Octavia Jacobs, 18 (Female Tribute from Aquila)
Nova Roma was a city of grandeur built on the bones of an empire, where marble columns reached toward the sky like the outstretched arms of gods long forgotten. The streets were paved with the history of a thousand conquests, every stone whispering tales of power and bloodshed. It was a city where beauty and brutality walked hand in hand, where the glittering facades of wealth concealed the gnawing hunger that lurked in the hearts of its people.
The skyline was a tapestry of domes and spires, their gold and copper roofs catching the first light of dawn, a promise of splendor that few could touch. Below, the markets bustled with the scent of spices and the murmur of deals made in hushed tones. This was a place where the rulers sat on thrones of opulence, pulling the strings of their grand puppet show, while the masses clung to the edges, praying for a drop of the wealth that trickled down like blood from a wound.
This was the vivid imagery passed down to Octavia from her grandmother who visited Nova Roma before the Dark Days. Before the period of rebellion and war engulfed the land. Octavia had never seen the city for herself no matter how vividly she could picture it. For when the rebels from twelve nearby towns had been conquered, they were held as prisoners within their walls, doomed to live and die in the same town for generations. Yet, that wasn't the only punishment the Senate at Nova Roma laid out for the rebels.
For seventy-four years an annual gladiatorial match called 'Lusus Mortis' had taken place. Two children, one boy and girl between the ages twelve and eighteen from each condemned town were chosen to compete. The lone victor, bathed in riches is granted citizenship into Nova Roma. Yet, of course the Districts were not willing to accept the slaughter of their children so easily. A small push was needed.
The Senate, in its insidious brilliance, had restricted food shipments again. They always did this in the days leading up to the Lusus Mortis, tightening their grip on the throats of the people until desperation choked them into compliance. It was their way of ensuring that each town would be more than willing to sacrifice two of their own, sending them off with prayers and curses in exchange for the hope of winning the Games and, with it, the promise of food—precious, life-sustaining food.
Octavia cradled her son close, her heartbeat a steady drumbeat against his tiny chest, as the muffled roar of the riot outside grew louder. The walls of her husband's estate, thick with centuries of wealth and privilege, could not keep out the fury of the crowd forever. They were hungry—starving, really—and the government's cruel games had driven them to the brink. She could feel the vibration of their rage in the floor beneath her feet, a palpable reminder of the powerlessness that gnawed at her.
Her son, barely three years old, whimpered slightly, his copper curls—so like hers—falling across his blue eyes. Those eyes, wide with fear, searched her face for comfort she could not give. Outside, the world was unraveling just as much as it was inside.
The sudden knock at the door was sharp, precise, cutting through the noise like a knife. She hesitated, then gently pried her son's fingers from around her neck, placing him in his crib. "Stay here, my love," she whispered, brushing a kiss across his brow. His eyes, wide and trusting, blinked up at her, and she forced herself to smile.
She moved through the silent halls of her home, her steps quickening with a sense of dread that had nothing to do with the riot outside. When she opened the door, the air seemed to still around her.
There, standing in the threshold, was her twin brother Valerius. He looked exactly as he always had—exactly as she did. Copper hair, like burnished metal in the dim light, and eyes the color of a storm about to break. It was like staring into a mirror, one that reflected back all her sins and secrets. Yet she also saw her son reflected back at her, the man he would one day become. It unnerved her as much as it delighted her that he carried so few features from his father.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Val's lips curved into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, and he stepped forward, crossing the line between the chaos of the streets and the cold, calculated safety of her home.
"Sister," he said, his voice as smooth and dangerous as the blade of a knife as he walked through her halls glancing in each room. Octavia didn't answer, gesturing for the housemaid to stay back. After a few moments he found what he was looking for, his face lighting up.
Val didn't wait for an invitation. As soon as he saw Drusus in his crib, he brushed past Octavia, his boots clicking on the marble floor with an eagerness that felt out of place amidst the tension.
"Drusus, my little man!" Val's voice, usually laced with sarcasm or seduction, was warm and genuine as he scooped the boy into his arms. "Look at you—getting bigger every day, huh? What's your mother been feeding you? Oh, wait," he laughed softly, a sound that held no real humor, "there's hardly anything left to feed anyone, is there?"
Drusus giggled, his small hands reaching for Val's hair, tugging at a curl with the innocence only a child could muster. Val didn't seem to mind; in fact, he relished it, lifting the boy higher into the air, spinning him around as if the world outside wasn't burning with hunger and anger.
"Uncle Val is here to make sure you're safe, you know that?" Val murmured, pressing his forehead gently against Drusus'. "You and I, we've got plans, little one. Big plans."
Octavia watched her brother with a mix of unease and impatience. Val's affection for Drusus was real—there was no doubt about that—but she knew him too well to believe this visit was purely for family. Val never did anything without a reason, and that reason was seldom simple.
Finally, she stepped forward, her voice cutting through the playful banter like the crack of a whip. "Val, enough."
He looked up, still holding Drusus, his expression softening as he met her gaze. But there was something else there too—something darker, lurking just beneath the surface.
"Why are you here, Val?" Octavia's tone was sharp, a reminder that she was not just his sister but a woman who had long ago learned to navigate the dangerous waters of their world.
Val sighed, his playful demeanor slipping away like a mask. He handed Drusus back to his mother, ruffling the boy's hair one last time before turning to face her fully.
"Isn't it obvious, sister?" he said, his voice now edged with the seriousness that matched the gravity of the situation outside. "I came to talk about the Games. And our roles in what's about to happen."
Octavia's eyes narrowed as she stared at Val, her voice sharp with urgency. "What do the Games have to do with us, Val?"
He hesitated, his gaze drifting to Drusus as if the boy might provide an answer. Finally, he sighed, the weight of his words hanging heavy between them. "I've heard whispers, Octavia. The volunteers from our district… they've all dropped out."
Octavia's heart skipped a beat. "Dropped out? Why?"
"A nice payment, I'm told," Val replied, his tone careful, as though navigating a treacherous path. "Enough to make them forget their so-called duty."
A cold dread crept into her veins, freezing her where she stood. "Is it my husband?" The words were barely a whisper, a question she already feared the answer to.
Val didn't meet her eyes. "I can't be sure. But not many people have the motive or the means to buy out volunteers at the last moment."
A bitter laugh escaped Octavia's lips, her hands tightening around Drusus as though he might slip away if she didn't hold on tight enough. "Then pay them more," she demanded, her voice breaking on the edge of desperation.
"I tried," Val admitted, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "But they know they have the upper hand. They're demanding far more than even I could afford. And besides—your husband threatened to kill them if they didn't accept his offer."
Octavia's gaze hardened, the reality of her situation pressing down like a vice. "Of course," she murmured, her voice hollow. "My husband has hated me since the day we married, I should have seen this coming."
Val leaned closer, his voice a soft warning. "With us gone, Drusus would be the only heir to the Vella fortune. Until he turns sixteen, your husband would control everything on his behalf."
Octavia's legs felt weak, and she sank into the nearest chair, her mind racing. The cold realization settled over her like a shroud—she should have killed him before he had the chance to do this to her, to them. The thought was dark, twisted, and yet, in that moment, it felt like the only logical solution she'd failed to see in time.
She bit back tears, her hands trembling as she held Drusus close. "What do we do, Val?" Her voice was barely audible, the strength she usually commanded slipping away like sand through her fingers.
Val's silence was deafening as he moved behind her chair and followed her gaze out of the window to the commotion outside. "I don't know, Octavia. For the first time, I don't have an answer."
Octavia stiffened as the front door swung open with a deliberate creak, and Lucius stepped inside. His presence filled the room, commanding attention with the effortless authority of a man who knew he was in control. He wore his usual mask of refined composure, his lips curling into a smile but his eyes flashed with anger.
"Ah, Val," Lucius said smoothly, as if greeting an old friend rather than the brother of the woman he'd shackled to a life of misery. "What a pleasant surprise. I didn't expect to find you here."
Val's grip on the back of a chair tightened, knuckles whitening, but he matched Lucius's smile with one of his own, just as cold, just as sharp. "I wasn't aware I needed an appointment to visit my sister and nephew, Lucius. Surely family is always welcome in one's home?"
Lucius's gaze flicked to Octavia, a glimmer of something darker lurking beneath his polished veneer. "In our home, Val, even family should respect the boundaries we set. This is a house of order, not chaos."
Val's smile widened, a touch of mockery creeping into his voice. "Order? Is that what you call it when you keep me at arm's length? I've hardly been allowed to see them since—well, since the day you claimed my sister as yours."
Lucius's eyes narrowed slightly, though his tone remained light, almost conversational. "With good reason, Val. We wouldn't want your… nocturnal activities and, shall we say, varied companionship to tarnish the sanctity of this household. After all, Drusus is growing up fast. He's at that impressionable age."
Octavia felt the tension in the room tighten like a noose around her throat. Val and Lucius were circling each other with words as sharp as blades, each veiled insult a cut designed to draw blood without leaving a mark.
Val chuckled softly, a sound devoid of warmth. "Ah, yes. The sanctity of your household. Such a shining example of virtue, Lucius, when it's not built on manipulation and control. Tell me, how much does that virtue cost these days? Enough to buy off volunteers for the Games, perhaps?"
Lucius's smile didn't falter, but his eyes darkened, the briefest flicker of irritation betraying him before he regained his composure. "My concern, as always, is for the well-being of my family. I would do anything to protect them—from anyone, even those who think their blood ties give them free rein."
Val's gaze was steady, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "And here I thought family meant something more than a contract. But I suppose we all have our ways of showing affection." He gave a dismissive wave of his hand.
Lucius stepped closer at this, his voice dropping to a silky murmur. "Indeed. And some of us know that true affection sometimes requires making difficult decisions. For the greater good, of course."
Octavia's heart pounded in her chest as she watched the two men, each word exchanged between them a deadly dance of civility. The air was thick with unspoken threats, their venom wrapped in pretty, polite phrases that left no room for doubt—Lucius knew what Val was insinuating, and Val knew exactly what Lucius had planned. Yet neither would drop the pretense, the mask of pleasantry that kept their game in motion.
She forced herself to stand, stepping between them before the tension could spiral into something irreparable. "Enough," she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. "This is not the time for these games."
Lucius's smile returned, softer now, as if her presence alone had diffused the situation. "You're right, my dear. There's no need for hostility among family. Val, you're always welcome—so long as you respect the rules of this house."
Val inclined his head slightly, the ghost of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Of course, Lucius. Rules are meant to be respected… until they're broken." He turned to Octavia, his voice softening. "Take care, sister."
As Val moved toward the door, Octavia felt a wave of helplessness wash over her. The polite venom of their exchange had left her trembling, and she knew that beneath the surface, far darker currents were at play. When Val paused in the doorway, casting one last look back at Drusus, she saw the unspoken promise in his eyes—he would not let Lucius win so easily.
Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that time was running out, and that neither her wit nor Val's defiance would be enough to save them.
Octavia's pulse quickened as the door clicked shut behind her brother, leaving her alone with her husband. The carefully constructed façade of their conversation shattered Val's absence, revealing the truth she had long dreaded. She turned to face him, her voice tight with tension. "Is it true, Lucius? What Val said…did you rig the Games?"
A cruel smirk washed across his lip, a mocking laugh escaping him as he moved closer. "Oh, Octavia. You still trust that madman of a brother? Val is insane, always has been. He's spent his life chasing shadows and stirring trouble. You'd be a fool to believe anything he says."
Her eyes narrowed, refusing to let his condescension sway her. "Val may be erratic, but his mind is still sharp. He's never lied—not to me, at least. And you… you're the one who taught me to trust no one."
For a moment, Lucius's expression darkened, the mask slipping just enough to reveal the cold, calculating man beneath. "Very well, if you insist on the truth." He straightened, his tone turning icy and matter-of-fact. "Yes, I rigged the Reaping. You gave me what I wanted, an heir, and now I intend to secure our future. Val doesn't deserve the Vella fortune. He's a liability—a thorn in my side that I've finally decided to remove. With you alive, the last surviving member of the Vella family, the fortune would pass to you before our son…what use would that be?"
Octavia's blood ran cold, the weight of his words pressing down on her like a physical blow. She struggled to keep her voice steady, but the revulsion in her eyes was clear. After everything she'd lost, the family she's seen executed in-front her, the man she should have trusted sort to destroy the little she had left. "You're a twisted man, Lucius."
He chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "Am I? Or am I simply the man you wish you could be?" He asked coldly. "Don't play the innocent with me, Octavia. I know you've thought about it—killing me, taking the power for yourself. You just didn't have the nerve to act on it. I did. You wish to be powerful yet you're cursed with the weak will of a woman."
Her breath caught in her throat, and before she could stop herself, the words spilled out. "I should kill you now."
Lucius's eyes flashed with a dangerous glint, but he remained perfectly still, his voice dripping with malice. "You could try, but I've already taken precautions. The authorities have been informed that I fear for my safety. If anything happens to me, you'll be the first suspect. And you know what that means, don't you? You'd be executed, and Val would still meet his end in the arena. Drusus would be left alone, with no one to protect him. No one but the vultures who would circle for his inheritance. You're smart enough to see that."
The room seemed to close in on her, the walls suffocating her with the weight of her powerlessness. Lucius had outmaneuvered her at every turn, and she could see the satisfaction in his eyes as he watched the realization dawn on her.
He stepped closer, leaning in until his breath was hot against her ear, his voice a twisted whisper. "You're trapped, Octavia. Just as I planned. Now, I suggest you compose yourself. The Reaping is soon, and you'll want to look your best. After all, appearances are everything in this town."
He pulled back, his gaze sweeping over her with cruel disdain before he turned on his heel and walked toward the door. His departure was deliberate, each step echoing his victory.
Octavia stood frozen in place, her heart pounding in her chest as his footsteps faded. The fear she felt wasn't just for herself, but for Drusus. She glanced at her son, still blissfully unaware in her arms, and a wave of dread washed over her. What if Drusus grew up to be like Lucius? Cold, calculating, cruel? What if he turned out like her, just the same deep down. Power hungry, ambitious but with the power a man was afforded in this Empire, he could do something about it.
She sank to the floor, her hands trembling. She had thought she could control her fate, navigate the dangerous waters of their world with cunning and intelligence. But now, she realized, she was as much a pawn as anyone else—trapped in a game she no longer knew how to win. And worst of all, her son's future lay in the hands of a man who had already proven how far he would go to maintain his power.
For once in her life, Octavia had no plan, no one to turn to. Yet she still felt a fire stirring inside of her, an anger, a stubbornness she had become so good at masking. Lucius wouldn't get the satisfaction of seeing her die, she would come home victorious. Then she decided to rob him further of his gloating by denying him of seeing her brother die. Lucius Jacobs would die long before either she or Val had the chance.
Hey! This is a joint entry into the Chaos Reigns series by myself and Carlpopa707!
For those who don't know, Chaos Reigns is a series of SYOTs where a group of authors are given the same 24 Tributes to work with but beyond that, they have free reign over the story they tell. There are traditional SYOTs, a SYOTs based on the TV Survivor (My Tribute Leo is in that one! ^_^), and now this addition.
As I'm sure you can tell, Nova Roma is our own spin on Panem. It's essentially Panem with even more Ancient Roman Razzle Dazzle. The City of Nova Roma is the center of a vast empire that spans the United States circled by twelve towns who, 75-years-ago rebelled against the Emperor. Now they must annually offer up one boy and girl between the ages of 12 and 18 to take part in the Lusus Mortis (The Hunger Games). Octavia is from 'Aquila' Nova Roma's version of District 2 one of the more wealthy towns in the Empire. You will be slowly introduced to the other towns alongside the Tributes so don't worry.
For transparency: This story acts almost as a partial SYOT. The story will follow six different Tributes while the rest are background characters. Octavia is one of the POVs characters. Me and Gaia (Carlpopa707) have decided on 4 POVs characters so far so we're not sure who the other two will be just yet.
That is all for this chapter! I hope you enjoyed it and stick around for more! Let me know what you think in the reviews! See ya!