The Business with Soulmates and Soulmarks

by maythestarslightyourway

Summary:

Percy wanted a break - to her ever-growing despair she didn't get one.
Instead, she got yeeted 2000 years into the past. Now she is involuntarily stuck with an ill-tempered, stuck-up soulmate and, on top of that, has to learn to deal with the dreadful misogynist conventions of ancient Roman society. - Oh, and slavery. Did you know slavery is legal here?

Chapter 1: Preface

Hello there! So, when I started writing this, I initially wanted to write an “Gaius Octavian aka Emperor Augustus/ modern original female character” time travel story. But then I realized that writing an “ordinary” female character from the 21st century would severely limit me in writing a badass female protagonist in the way that I wanted, if I wanted to stay somewhat historically accurate. (– That being said, it’s of course not impossible to write a “normal” female protagonist as a badass in an ancient Roman setting.) Instead, however, I decided to write a “Gaius Octavian/ female! Percy Jackson” ff. Additionally, I want to point out, that for the ancient Roman part of the story, I plan to mainly use the portrayal of Gaius Octavian that the series “Rome (TV 2005)” did of him.

[At this point I also have to admit that a sadistic little part of myself could not help but want to find out how cold, calculating and ambitious Octavian would clash with the chaotic, free-spirited, confident and willful personality of one Percy Jackson.]

Be warned, while I will use some historical accurate facts in this story, I will still be playing hard and fast with both historical facts and fiction. So, if you are looking for an one-to-one accurate portrayal of ancient Roman history, its society, the TV series or even the Percy Jackson series this is probably not the story you are looking for! :)

To finish this off I would, for one, like to say that I welcome any kind of constructive criticism you might have, but that I in no way condone hate. Also, please, do not plagiarize my story and try to copy and claim it as your own! I am, however, absolutely fine with someone being “inspired” by my story, in the, in my opinion, unlikely case that should ever happen.
Additionally, I would like to make it clear that I am writing this story solely for my own enjoyment and as such cannot promise regular updates. (Or perfect grammar, vocabulary and syntax etc.)

Also, I obviously do not own either the “Percy Jackson series” or the series “Rome (TV 2005)” – all rights go the original creators.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading! :)

Chapter 2: “How a perfectly shitty afternoon, became even shitter as narrated by one Perseas (Percy) Jackson”

Summary:

BTW comments and feedback are food for my weary writer's soul! :))

It would be wrong to say, Perseas, or rather Percy as she preferred to go by, reflected that today’s afternoon had been anything but an absolute disaster. She had, however, to admit that all things considered her life had, at the ripe age of 20 – to be 21 within days, finally slowed down for a bit. Slowed down of course being put in the context of her being a demigod daughter of Poseidon. – Being chased and chasing monsters and the like was still a regular occurrence, but Percy could proudly say that, in her own humbly opinion at least, she had become a real pro at handling these kinds of things.

Meaning she usually accepted reality (another monster out to try and attain esteem by slaying the most powerful demigod of her generation – and getting 5.7 feet of yummy demigod to eat on top of that), decided on a course to act on (slaying the annoying monster disrupting her peaceful daily life as quickly as possible) and took action as decided on before (slaying the monster, which at her age and experience usually only lasted a few minutes at a time). Afterwards she usually took a deep breath to calm herself and went on about her day as if nothing had happened at all. Usually repeating the mantra: “Do not let the negative aspects of your life consume the biggest part of your mind Percy, it’s not good for you and your psyche.”

So yes, Percy had, at this point in her life, many reasons to be proud of herself and her progress. She had -contrary to the belief of every teacher she had ever had - successfully graduated from high school (thank you Annabeth for the invaluable torture sessions you called tutoring) and had been studying Marine Biology at New Rome University for the last three years and would return to New Rome after the summer holidays to start her doctoral degree. Truth be told, Percy herself was the most astounded about this development.

Not in a million years could she have imagined ever getting a doctoral degree. And the greatest thing about it: no great or even small prophecy for her. Apollo being turned human (and later returning to godhood) had at this point happened three years ago and ever since he had (unsuccessfully) tried and failed to drag her into his – and Percy couldn’t stress the “his” enough- quest, she hadn’t heard even a peep about quests, or prophecies or other things that had, in the past, made her life literal Tartarus – pun very much intended.

So if you asked Percy life was good, life was bliss even – just not this afternoon. This early August afternoon with its blistering heat that made her want to send a quick prayer to Apollo and to ask if he could cool down for a bit to make life more bearable for the average mortal citizens of the east coast. Especially, since she was out and about hunting yet another monster that has recently been causing trouble near Camp Half-Blood and as the oldest, most experienced and currently also only available camper Chiron had asked her if she could go and take care of it. In truth, she suspected he only did so since he really couldn’t bear hearing any more wood nymphs complaining about a feral hellhound gnawing at their greens.

Percy, ever the helpful soul, had of course agreed. But not before thoroughly cursing Annabeth, Will and a great number of other senior campers in her mind. – She really couldn’t be blamed, could she? She had, after all, been getting ready to spend a rare, peaceful afternoon laying at the bottom the camp’s lake to escape the blistering sun (take that Apollo) while listening to some of her favorite podcasters with her waterproofed phone and headphones. The only thing Percy could say about lying on the bottom of a lake and enjoying a sunny day was that other people -those not being able to breathe underwater- were really missing out.

Anyways, back to chasing and slaying hellhounds. Having arrived on the edge of the grove that the hellhound supposedly had been hounding – Percy couldn’t help but grin at her own silly joke – she took Riptide in pen form out of her pocket and got ready to use the first step of her proven method of fighting monster: making noise until they came to you. “Hey, you little shithead of a three headed deformed dog-entity!”, her voice rang loud and clearly into the woods. Mentally she was already apologizing to Mrs. O´Leary for calling her kind impolite things, no matter how true they were.

Looking back, however, Percy should really have taken the time to think things through. A niggling little voice in the back of her mind that strongly reminded her of Annabeth was reminding her that ‘you should start to think things through before doing something seaweed brain, you really should. Just look at what happens if you don’t.’ In her own defense, monsters usually were fast and with murderous auras and generally out to kill her, so they didn’t really give her the time to stop and think things through.

‘Not everyone can fight and plan at the same time wise girl,’ Percy thought defensively, as she ran down the little hill, on which the grove was situated, a murdery hellhound hot on her heels. Though Percy had to admit that, in this instance, she would probably be doing a lot more slaying evil things, instead of running from evil things, if she had considered that all the greenery of the grove might obscure her view and severely impact her ability to see when and where her target would burst out of the woods and launch itself upon her person. Short spoiler: she hadn’t thought that far, the hellhound had caught her off guard and after a short scuffling Percy had decided that changing fighting ground would probably be to her advantage. Especially, since the hellhound monster that liked gnawing on greenery had turned out to be a fully-grown specimen of unusually large proportions.

So in the direction of the nearby beach she went. She jumped down the 7 feet cliff bordering the beach before deciding enough was enough and spinning around to face the hellhound. At the same time she transformed Riptide into its sword form. Mr. Overgrown-Hellhound (at least she suspected it was male) didn’t tarry long and soon enough one sword wielding demigoddess and overgrown hellhound stood face to face next to the tides of the Atlantic Ocean. “What’s up you overgrown fleabag, already given up? Did frightening little Percy scare you off?”, she taunted her opponent. ‘Stupid seaweed brains! Do you want to die?’, voice-Annabeth-in-her-head shouted at her. Mr. Overgrown-Hellhound growled enraged before coming at her at full speed, it’s mouth wide open ready to make a snack out of her. In the last minute, Percy jumped aside into the swallow ocean water, Riptide grazing the hellhound’s side. And so on they proceeded.

Scuffling back and forth, one scary hellhound tried to eat the yummy demigoddess on his menu, while Percy tried to land fatal plows with Riptide. Percy couldn’t help but wonder how much combat experience that thing had had in the past as it skillfully kept evading her more deadly attacks. It was without a doubt that this was the most annoying monster she had had to fight lately. “Oh, come on!”, she exclaimed as the hellhound fawned it’s tail in a way that a handful of sand landed on her face, momentarily blinding her. In the last minute she jumped back evading his sharp teeth that would have ripped her arms into shreds. “I’ve really had enough of this”, she growled under her breath, finally managing to remove all the sand from her eyes. With a fierce battle cry, she rushed at the monster and moments later plunged her blade through it’s stupid scull. Soon enough, all that was left of the overgrown dog was monster dust.

Panting heavily, Percy stumbled back and let herself fall backwards in the swallow sea water. Refreshing, nice, cool water greeted her. A happy sigh left her lips as she felt the water sooth her strained muscles and energize her sweating body. She momentarily closed her eyes before staring up at the cloudless picture-perfect blue sky. “No ones, ever going to hear about this,” she muttered. “It took me an embarrassingly long time to kill that…” A sharp stinging in her left forearm abruptly stopped her self-talk. Warily -she had gone through too much shit already today- she lifted her arm to check if the damned dog had left her with any wounds. – But then again, the seawater should have healed any wound by now? Instead, what greeted her eyes was worse, much worse. A distinctive mark, colored in blues, greens and golds, started to slowly take shape on her skin in the middle of the insides of her forearm.

“By all the gods no!” Percy quickly sat up onto her butt but knew better than trying to run – at this stage not even hacking off her arm would be enough to escape from what was coming now. With horror she could only watch as a fates-damned soul mark -she was about to get a freaking soul mark!!!- spread across her skin. “Please not me. Please not me. Please do not let it be me that gets yeeted through space”, she quietly begged. With her panic levels steadily growing, she could admit that at least her mark was turning out to be a real beauty with all its soft swirls and curves that might not have had any meaning behind it but still formed a beautiful distinctive and unique pattern. Had the mark not represented what it did, Percy would have even admired the forms the ink took on her skin. As it was, however, she only awaited with dread what was about to happen.

After all, everyone on the damned planet and their dog knew what a soul mark meant and what happened when one appeared. For one, soul marks were exceedingly rare in the 21st century. – Not that they had ever been not exceedingly rare, but scientist had noted that even with a steadily rising world population, soul marks themselves did not rise with it proportionally. (Take that wise girl! I know stuff!!!) Not that it made much difference in Percy’s opinion. Soul marks and the soulmates that came with them had always been the stuff of legends. They were -to Percy’s knowledge- any religion’s main argument as to why a higher power existed. How else could somebody explain that some “chosen ones” among humans would at some point in their life randomly grow soul marks that would yeet one of the two recipients of the exact same mark across space into the others immediate vicinity. Which often meant directly into the other person’s arms. Yes, shit like that actually happened.

After all, all the greatest love stories in the world -no matter the culture- were about soulmates. One of the most notable of them all: Romeo and Juliet. For many people -it is to be noted not for Percy- probably the most romantic story of all time. Two star-crossed soulmates, whose evil, evil families would rather keep them apart and defy the will of god himself, instead of letting them join in the holy union of marriage, eventually driving them into their tragic death. “Together in death, if not in life”, or with something like that does Shakespeare end his magnum opus (– thank you members of the Aphrodite cabin for that unnecessary information). Percy spits on Shakespear and his magnum opus.

She would rather live her life out peacefully after all the trauma her teenage years had wreaked upon her, instead of fearing being yeeted through space into the arms of a stranger that the fates had decided should be her perfect match. Her other half that is supposed to complement her perfectly in all and any ways – mind, body, spirit, heart, personality… – you get the idea. (The only good thing about soulmark and soulmates, Percy gleefully acknowledged, was that not even Aphrodite, Zeus or any other god had any say about them. Their creation solely lay in the hands of the fates and nobody ever had been able to figure out how exactly the minds of those creepy three old ladies worked.)

That being said, Percy also had to admit that the fates had never cared a bit about what she -or anyone else for that matter- wanted. They had only ever thrown shit at her and made her figure it out with little to no significant help. Considering this, she was not surprised when a queasy feeling started to spread in her stomach, while the world around her simultaneously started to grow hazy. Seems like she would, after all, be the one to be yeeted through space. The last thing that went through her mind, before the world went black was ‘Oh come on, all I wanted was to take a break on the bottom of the lake, is that too much to ask for?’

Chapter 3: “Meeting the soulmate… or rather an impolite trollop if she had ever had the displeasure of meeting one”

Notes:

Feel free to comment! :)

Being sucked through space sucked, really, really sucked. No matter that it only took seconds, it was enough time to turn over her stomach and besides the violent urge to vomit also gave her a nasty headache that made everything even worse. The next thing she registered was falling – it was a very short fall, truth be told, but it messed with her perception and her awareness of where up was and where down. A lot. Then, the stinging sensation of being hit into two places of her back (her lower back and upper back) at the same time. Percy instinctively reeled forward and then to the side, trying her absolute best to try and escape the pain and any other unpleasant sensation she was currently feeling.

Next, she knew she was lying face-front on a blessedly cold stone floor. She let her forehead fall onto the cold stone and closed her eyes, trying to fight the violent urge to vomit all over -as she now was able the note- shiny marble floor. The calming of her stomach took precedence to the yells and shouts she vaguely registered in the periphery around her. What did she care that her soulmate was in close vicinity or that she should probably try to figure out where exactly she was now that she had the alternative of lying on the most amazing cold floor she had ever laid on. After all, she didn’t want to make even more work for whoever was responsible for mopping the floor by soiling it with her vomit. Deep breaths Percy, in and out, in and out, in and out, in and out…

As her levels of nausea slowly declined, she became increasingly aware of her surroundings. And with that of the strange language people were conversing in now that the initial shock of her sudden disgraceful appearance started to fade. – It probably helped that she hadn’t moved a centimeter since landing on the floor in an effort to not embarrass herself even more by vomiting. She caught some words and phrases that, if she had been able to understand them correctly, would sound somewhere along the line of “nota animae” and “a diis benedictus” and “anima gemella” and “ut a Caesare expectatum est”. It sounded like humbug to Percy all the same. Weird people and weird languages apparently existed everywhere.

She suddenly noticed, as thanks to her being blessed (*cough*cursed*cough*) with heightened awareness due to her demigodhood that someone was lowering themselves towards the ground right next to where she was lying. For just a second, she considered chickening out and staying on the blessedly cold, most amazing floor she had ever met and just not face reality aka meeting her soulmate. (She couldn’t explain how, but she knew that the faceless person crouching next to her was her soulmate the same way she felt her heart beating in her chest and air fill her lungs. Besides, her newly formed soul mark was practically singing at the proximity of person carrying its identical twin.)

‘No,’ Percy decided, ‘I didn’t defeat Kronos singlehandedly (with help of other people, in truth, but who cares about details) just to chicken out when meeting a measly (yes, she was certainly being mean here) mortal.’ She was, for now at least, proceeding under the assumption that her soulmates was (please, please, please) mortal and not another kind of species that would bring about even more trouble for her. (Not that mortals themselves did not get into enough trouble on their own as well – *cough*climate change*cough*, but the point stands.)

Percy abruptly braced her hands onto the floor and pushed herself up without giving any warning beforehand. Then several things happened in quick succession at once: The back of head collided with the face of person crouching next to her with a painful sounding crack (now Percy really didn’t want to sound like a smartass, but she had been in enough battels and much too much experience with being injured, and from the sound of it she could tell that she had probably just unintentionally broken a nose… well she always aimed to make a good first impression. Her mama raised her right, after all.), people started shouting again and Percy lost whatever footing she was trying to find when getting up. Soon enough, she felt herself falling again. Backwards this time, which meant tumbling towards the floor – again - this time round landing atop her unfortunate soulmate, whose nose she had just broken. Presumptively, of course, one can never know, maybe she just bruised it without breaking it.

Now staring at the elaboratively ornated ceiling above her (there were pretty lotuses engraved in stone up there, whoever would have guessed. And look at all the colors, the owner must have an eye for colors), instead of on the cold stone floor, Percy reflected on the amount of rather awkward affairs she had had to experience on this day alone. ‘This better not become the norm,’ she thought in despair.
A low groan from the person below her altered her to the fact that she was still currently using whoever she had fallen on (her soulmate, it was her soulmate, gods!!!) as a cushion.

‘Alright now or never Percy,’ she hyped herself up, before pushing herself up and turning around to face the person below her. Now safely securing her weight on her hands and knees she got her first glimpse of the person, caged between her arms, lying below her. ‘Ok, he’s pretty,’ was the first thought that went through her mind. (It was to be expected really, soulmates were supposed to fit one another in every way, appearances included.)
And he truly made a pretty sight. – Broken and bleeding nose, which was rapidly turning from swollen red into blues and purples, left aside. His hair was cropped short and light in color, much lighter than her dark waves, and blond -with perhaps some reddish highlights. His skin also paler than her sun–tanned complexion. Oh and his eyes. His eyes were what struck Percy the most. Pale, incredible pale bluish eyes that seemed to look into her very soul the moment their gazes locked.

At this point it would probably be prudent to summarize her first impression of her soulmate as follows: He was pale colored but did in no way look washed out. Instead, his whole appearance was rather striking. He possessed intense, piercing pale eyes and an aura that made even Zeus’ glares seem like a weak imitation. And that, Percy could attest personally, as she had been on the receiving end of her uncle’s murderous glares more than just a couple of times, was an achievement in itself.

Pretty boys had always been her weakness, she quietly lamented. It was only fitting that the fates would torment her by giving her -generally very unwilling to engage in this soulmate bullshit at all- a soulmate that would have the ability to make her resolve crumble faster than ice melted in the sun. “Uh, hi there.” To her ever-growing mortification her voice came out sounding so high and squeaky it may as well have belonged to a pipsqueak. - She really wanted the ram, her face, into the nearest wall. Anything to escape the mortification that had taken hold of her entire being. When she dared glancing back down at her soulmate, she finally noticed what she had missed before: The barely contained ice cold fury glinting in his eyes. Seemed like he didn’t take to having his nose broken well after all.

‘You really know how to pick them don’t you Percy? You really do. Now go and apologize. And get off of him, for gods’ sake!’ Apparently, little-voice-Annabeth-in-her-head was back and going strong by pointing out the obvious to her. Then again Percy hadn’t thought about moving an inch, so maybe Annabeth-in-her-head had good reason for being present after all.

She quickly did just that – getting off of him – and crouched down on his side instead. “Sorry, uhm, for landing on you and, uh…. breaking your nose, also,” she tentatively finished and gifted him a, for her in a rather out of character fashion, timid smile. Only now did she notice something unusual about her soulmate -other than his pretty face and intense gaze (and his freshly broken nose): the way he was dressed. He wore a toga -with red stripe and all-, golden bracelet-thingies and sandals.

In short, he looked very distinctively roman with his short-cropped hair and all. “Oh, am I…” Percy trailed off as she finally, finally took the time to look around and take in her surroundings. “Am I in New Rome? Do you have Egyptian looking… stuff in New Rome…” She trailed off again. Things just didn’t make sense. Throwing a look over her shoulder she saw a what might as well have been a battalion of soldiers, dressed roman style. But they looked very much out of place in a building that looked like it belonged into ancient Egyptian times. And, looking back to the front of the big room, there were also people dressed like ancient Egyptians. Most notably a woman sitting on a chair-throne-thingy dressed like an ancient Egyptian queen – she like everyone else in the room was looking at the debacle unfolding in front of her with keen, dark eyes.

Now, Percy was in no way an expert, but everything in the gigantic room looked very professional. Like you-could-immediately-go-and-shoot-a-realistic-movie about Romans/Egyptians, if you just find the right actors to cast. “Or are you cosplaying?” She thought aloud, still confused about what was going on. While Percy was still floundering, her soulmate had apparently overcome the initial shock of having his nose broken (she really, really felt guilty about that) and had started to take action. Following a distinct, authoritative gesture of his hand two of the guys that were dressed up as roman soldiers stepped forwards as he pushed himself up from the ground. One of them handing him a cloth that he shortly pressed up against his nose to get rid of the worst of the bleeding.

To Percy’s surprise he then turned to the woman dressed like an ancient Egyptian queen and said some things to her in a measured and cool voice brimming with authority. The only problem was, Percy didn’t understand a word of whatever language he was speaking. But considering her surroundings she did have a better idea of what language it might be: Latin, most likely.

She had had some encounters with the language in New Rome. The issue was, however, that Percy couldn’t claim that she had skills in communicating in the language. The be exact, she knew next to nothing about it. Other than that it existed and was spoken by the ancient romans.
Mr. Soulmate-in-a-toga had apparently finished talking to -or rather threatening, as Percy got the uncomfortable impression that he really took the whole cosplaying act serious - the Egyptian queen and was now turning to her, still kneeling on the floor in the same position she had been in ever since she had awkwardly crawled off of him. Feeling his entire attention now turned onto her person, Percy became once more aware about how out of place she seemed compared to her surroundings.

But Percy could confidently say that she was no coward – never had been. As a matter of fact, the main grievances her peers had usually had with her were, for one, her recklessness and, for the other, her lack of respect for authority. Consequently, she raised her head up high and met her soulmate’s pale eyes head on while slowly lifting herself up into a standing position. She knew she stood out simply by not being dressed on theme. But still, people looked at her and her clothing as if she was an alien from outer space. As if they had never before seen a woman dressed with her dark hair, which was streaked with silver strands, braided down her back, orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt, blue jeans and stylish black combat boots. Percy firmly suppressed the urge to start fiddling with one of the nine (time really does pass quickly, doesn’t it) beads of her camp-necklace. On the side she noted with relief that Riptide had -like the good sword it was- returned into her pocket.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she nearly failed to notice that her soulmate, had yet again said - ordered, why does he take cosplaying so seriously, wasn’t it about time he broke character? After all, it’s not every day you meet your soulmate? – something to the two soldiers from before. Then he strode down the few steps of the podium, on which the Egyptian queen’s throne and another regal looking chair stood. - Was that the chair her soulmate had sat on before? Was it the reason why her back still hurt like a bitch? It must be. Oh gods, that can only mean one thing: had things worked out she would have fallen straight into his arms… (the urge to vomit returned in full force for just a second). He then walked towards the room’s entrance, which was lined with even more roman soldiers. To his credit, he still managed to walk regally even with his nose broken.

Percy blinked owlishly at the back of his retreating form. Was this dude ignoring her? For real? - the soulmate he had just met and not spoken even one word to? Even though she had held like an entire awkward monologue into his direction? (She might have broken his nose, but that was completely accidental, and she apologized, didn’t she? – He had understood, what she had said hadn’t he? Most people know basic English, right???) Was he fucking kidding her? Did he not even have the most basic of manners?

Before Percy had the chance to open her mouth and yell something profane at her rude soulmate’s retreating form, soldier 1 and 2 suddenly seized one of her arms each and started to move forward. (Their hold was not too rough, not painful at all, but still, rude to touch someone without permission.) She made ready to protest their treatment of her before she noticed that the soldiers were, as a matter of fact, attempting to drag her after her soulmate and to wherever he intended to go to. So she did -for once in her life- the more sensible thing and shut her mouth as they moved to get her and themselves outside. Still feeling much too confused and overwhelmed with the situation she threw one last desperate look over her shoulder meeting the eyes of the woman, dressed like an Egyptian queen, still sitting on her throne. She found no compassion towards her plight in the queen’s cool gaze.

Notes:

I used a translator for this, so if any Latin genius out there knows better than the translator and I & finds some mistakes, please let me know!:

nota animae = soulmark
a diis benedictus = blessed by the gods
anima gemella = soulmate
ut a Caesare expectatum est = as expected of Caesar

Chapter 4: "If life gives you lemons, go and make some lemonade… or whatever it is that they usually say”

Notes:

A longer chapter than usual, with probably also more mistakes than usual. (I am honestly not entirely happy with this chapter, but I decided to post it anyways.)
I am going to read over this again at a later date when I have the time!
Otherwise, please enjoy! :)

No matter how it had initially raised her hackles Percy felt an undying gratitude to the two soldiers holding her up as soon as her knees started to buckle when disbelief and denial slowly started to spread through her whole being. Her whole body started to feel heavy as if it suddenly weighed tons. Percy didn’t want to believe that what was directly before her was real, no matter that all her senses screamed the opposite at her.

Initially she had assumed that as soon as she and her escort would leave the big, Egyptian looking hall of whatever set (move-set? cosplay-set? – does something like that even exist, did she even care? No, definitely no.) they were currently on that she would soon spot signs of modern civilization. Because, come on, it was kind of impossible for there not be any signs of modern civilization. You would have to be in cult and hundreds of miles away from any kind of modern settlement for that to be realistic. And even then, Percy couldn’t imagine that anyone could escape the clutches of 21st century globalization completely. But as soon as soldier 1 and 2 had dragged her outside and down the cobbled way, which was lines by rows and rows of even more roman dressed soldier people, she got to see something that she had, so far, believed to be impossible – even for her rather fucked up standards.

Now Percy had had to -by her own admission - live through and see a lot of bullshit. She had to see her mother dissolve into dust because of an overgrown bullman, she had met a half-horse-half-man in a wheelchair, she had met literal gods, had held up the sky and exploded a literal volcano, seen the wonders of Camp Jupiter and New Rome with her own eyes and travelled through the sea of monsters. For gods sake, she had even survived literal Tartarus. But had she imagined she would ever be presented with the view she now saw.

Percy forgot about everything the moment her eyes soaked in the surrounding landscape: there was a bustling metropolis lying next to a bay which led to the blue, blue sea. There were people here –‘great observation seaweed brain, incredible observation, really’, voice-Annabeth couldn’t help but comment- and buildings and colors, so many colors… and everything looked like something straight out of an archaeologist of ancient history’s wet dream. There were great temples to gods foreign to her (in majority the Egyptian kind most likely), prick houses with flat roof and crowded markets and people dressed in colorful clothing. Many of them in what she imagined to be ancient Egyptian style, others in styles completely unknown from her. These people had probably arrived from places far away. (After all, didn’t that one person look distinctively Indian?)

Still dazed Percy lost her initial train of thought as her escort lurched her forwards and down in the direction of what she now saw to be a harbor. A harbor with a gigantic fleet of roman war ships. ‘Now that,’ Percy thought to herself, ‘is a fleet New Rome could follow in example.’ Whie the stress still got to her, her brain then proceeded to methodically analyze the boats’ design critically. ‘There is much to improve’, she internally critiqued, ‘they propably can’t keep up with the Argo II in any way – the flying part left aside completely.’ Focusing on ships -something closely connected to one of her father’s domains and something that she could control with her powers- really helped her deal with the overwhelming confusion and raised stress levels (aka panic) she currently had to deal with as the realization that this might actually be what she suspected it to be filled her with dread.

Now Percy might never have been the smartest cookie in the jar, but she was in no way stupid. And sadly, she also wasn’t as oblivious as Annabeth often joked. She was very much capable of putting two and two together if indisputable facts were presented before her and the situation called for it. Because no matter how dedicated or fanatical a group of people (or cult) might be they would not be able to create what was before her stretching to the far horizon without even the slightest hint that they were living in the 21st century. Which really, all facts considered, the language, people’s attitude and the city’s style and ambience, the fleet before her and perfectly authentical mixture of cultures, could mean only one thing.

‘I should have figured,’ Percy lamented quietly, ‘that I -like always- would have to be the exception. I can never have easy and normal things.’ Who else but her would be cursed with a glitched soul mark that would not just yeet her through space -like it had happened to literally everyone else she had ever heard of- but also through time. And it most likely was a one-way trip like all soul mark yeets were. There just was no plane here for her to hop on and return back home to Manhattan like everyone else would do have done. And soulmates were outside of the gods’ jurisdiction. Even in the unlikely case that they were inclined to help me they literally couldn’t.

Also the one that had once controlled time was no other than the most evil grandpa of all time, Kronos. And he was currently imprisoned in Tartarus. Percy wasn’t delusional: Kronos wasn’t an option, never had been. And the fates? Well, the fates had her exactly where they wanted her to be, didn’t they? They, as no one else would have that power, were after all the ones to put her here.
Percy wanted to hysterically laugh and cry at the same time.

Looking back she then most likely proceeded to go through most of the five stages of grieve faster than you could say Chiron-is-a-horse-in-a-wheelchair. She might have clung to denial longer if her life hadn’t been what it had turned out to be. But then again Percy’s whole involuntary life motto was practically: “Weird stuff generally happens to me and I am usually left to figure it out on my own.”
And sadly, soul marks, were also fact and not a fever dream someone had at some point made up. ‘But I really wish it was one, I really do.’
After all, how difficult was adding the factor of time to the equation of how soulmates and soul marks worked for the literal daughter of a god? It was as easy as breathing, truth be told. It just wasn’t as easy to accept.

So yes, Percy did leave -as reluctant as she was- denial behind for now, before a wave of burning anger threatened to consume her whole. But she quickly snuffed the anger out also, anger did nothing. It only meant a waste of precious physical and emotional strength, and she had a feeling she would need all the strength she could get in the next few hours, days, weeks, months…. years. Percy abruptly decided to leave the stage of bargaining out –because let’s realistic, who was there to bargain with? At this point in her life, she knew that hardly any god/titan/higher being would help even if they could- and jumped straight into the numbing feeling of depression. And acceptance – well acceptance wasn’t something she wanted to think about, not now, maybe not ever.

If she wasn’t feeling so numb, she would probably have noticed that they had finally arrived at their intended destination. Slowly, so very slowly, did she finally raise her head up to watch her soulmate’s back disappear in the insides of one of the ships.
Oh, they were in the harbor that the roman fleet anchored in. (The sea’s proximity made her whole body sing – it ousted at least some of the numbness in her body.) It made sense really, her soulmate, after all, looked Roman not Egyptian. Her escort then also made ready to enter the ship with her. They dragged her up the gangway onto the deck and then into the ship’s belly.

There they eventually entered a room that might have functioned as something like an ancient roman command center? Percy really did not know, but it was her best guess.
To the other side of the room -opposite from the entrance- there stood a desk nailed to the floor with a lathed stool. On top of it there laid scrolls upon scrolls and a number of thingies that looked like writing utensils and wax tables. (They wrote on those also, didn’t they?) To summarize, the whole room would have fit right into New Rome, but it had a much more “original” touch. Makes sense really since this was maybeee -part of her brain was still in denial after all- the original, original, original. Like there has never been something more original than the original itself, right? … But she was digressing.
She also noticed three lavishly adorned and made-up loungers – ancient roman style, of course, upon one of which a man lied. Also dressed in ancient roman style. Basically, everyone and everything in the room was ancient roman besides herself.

Percy noted that the man didn’t get up to pay his respect -or whatever it was that romans usually did for their important members of society-, so he probably was also an important member of their society or rather very close to Mr. Soulmate-that-looks-even-more-important-than-all-the-others. Instead, he stayed on the lounger and raised an eyebrow at Mr. Soulmate’s broken nose and her presence before throwing a questioning look at her soulmate’s back. (Really, his back was the part of his that she had become the best-acquainted with. That said a lot about his personality, it really did. Rude.) Mr. Soulmate-who-we-shall-not-talk-about had by now reached the desk at the other side of the room and was facing the ship’s wall. He was still not looking at either her, the man on the lounge, soldier 1 and 2 that were still keeping her up or even Roman-general-looking-guy that she now noticed had entered the room after her.

Guy-on-the-lounge then threw a look at Roman-general-looking-guy to probably get more information about the situation at hand (meaning her - he probably wanted to know what was up with her), as Mr. Soulmate still didn’t deign to speak. Instead, he preferred standing straight while clasping his hands and quietly staring at the ship’s wall. Roman-general-looking-guy quietly murmured something into the direction of guy-on-the-lounge who straightened up in surprise before his curious gaze fell upon her person. Percy stared right back. (Truth be told he looked like he wanted to dissect her like a particularly interesting insect. Percy shuddered. The guy seriously gave her the creeps. Not to yourself Percy: stay away if possible.)

Whatever moment her and guy-on-the-lounge were having fell short, however, when her soulmate issued a short command and soldiers 1 and 2 suddenly let go of her arm. This resulted in an unprepared Percy undignified sprawling on the floor. Percy groaned low in her throat and distantly noticed the soldiers retreating from the room leaving only the four of them back. Once Percy managed to sit back onto her behind, she noted that her soulmate had finally turned around again and that she now had three curious pairs of eyes upon her person while still sitting on the floor. Percy decidedly stayed where she was as her momentary track record of staying on her feet was extremely low.

“So, none of you actually speak English, right?” She eventually decided to break the silence that was slowly becoming suffocating. Percy could swear that Mr. Soulmate’s cool, clear eyes became even colder as she spoke. (What was his problem?) “Uhh, you guy are Roman right…,” she thought out aloud, “so…” She trailed off before trying again. This time around in ancient Greek. “Can you understand me now?” All of them continued staring at her and none of them answered, so Percy continued floundering. “How strange. I swear I once heard many Romans were actually able to speak Greek,” she mumbled. “That is problematic, makes things even more difficult, uhh…” She didn’t get to continue as Mr. Soulmate interrupted her in fluent, perfectly pronounced ancient Greek: “We do understand you. So, tell me, where are you from. The language you first spoke is not one I am familiar with.” Percy lit up. “That’s awesome! You have no idea how bad this day has been so far, finally something is working out for…”

“Where are you from?” Her babbling from the floor was rudely interrupted by her soulmate’s cold, unfeeling voice. She blinked. “Excuse me? You just meet your soulmate and all you are concerned about is where I am from? Have you ever heard something about small talk? You know, playing nice before getting down to business? And what about your tone? Has your mother failed to teach you to treat others with respect and kindness?” Agitated, she jumped up from the floor. Balling her hands to fists she glared at the man in front of her. At the back of her mind, she registered that her anger had resulted in the surrounding sea becoming turbulent. The waves were now crashing into the ships’ wooden panels, which resulted in the ship swaying heavily from side to side. As she noticed that all three men in the room had trouble staying upright, she took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down.

‘It wouldn’t do,’ she told herself, ‘to sink all these ships and drown their inhabitants with them just because one person on board has no manners.’ Straightening her back and raising her head to look her soulmate straight into the eyes she graciously decided to be the bigger person: “Alright, I am willing to forgive your initial, unfounded rudeness, so let us forget this and start anew.” She made a short pause before continuing. “My name is Perseas Jackson, but I prefer being called Percy. What may I call you?” She stretched out her arm for him to shake her hand and waited. And waited. And waited. While waiting she registered the shock her soulmate didn’t quite manage to hide from his face. She still did not understand what was there to be shocked about. “What? Is it not custom for your people to shake hands when meeting someone?” she asked. (She could have sworn that ancient Romans did the whole shaking hands thing as well.)

The silent standoff would have continued had a sudden giggling from guy-on-the-lounge not interrupted them. (To his credit, considering his red face, the guy really looked like he had been trying his best to hold it in but ultimately failed to do so.) Now he was convulsing on the lounge, hand pressed against his mouth, trying to make as few noises as possible before giving up and straight up gasping for air while his whole body shook from laugher. Wiping tears from his eyes, he said something to Mr. Soulmate before he lost himself in laughter again. At this point, her soulmate looking thoroughly pissed. His eyes frozen over, his face as if carved from stone. He then turned back to her and finally deigned to answer her even though it still looked like every word he said pained him to speak. “My name is Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus, son of Gaius Julius Caesar. Senator of Rome.” How he managed to appear as haughty as he did while doing so was a mystery to Percy. Then what he said caught up to her: “Caesar? As in Gaius Julius Caesar, who conquered Gaul, who became dictator of Rome? That Caesar?” Percy was sure, the horror she felt was visible on her face. “Indeed.” The pride and smug feeling of superiority was visible on his face. “My honored great-uncle, who became a god upon his death, that adopted me as his own and made me his heir.”

Now, as said before, Percy wasn’t the smartest person alive. She knew little about history and most of the things she did know were force-fed to her by wise girl.
(Other things she knew came from monsters she encountered that liked to gloat or complain on and on about the heroes they killed or were killed by, before she sent them back to Tartarus. Believe it or not but most of the history stuff they told her actually stuck.)
But some important figures she did know about. And she had the horrible feeling that she also knew the one standing right in front of her.
Least of all, because of a horrible, terrible, bad, bad person called Octavian - late legacy of Apollo and once augur of Rome, who got his name from the one and only Augustus, destroyer of republics (at least the ancient Roman one) and first emperor of Rome.
Who was, to Percy’s limited knowledge, the one and only adoptive son and heir of one Gaius Julius Caesar, who also conquered Gaul and later became dictator of Rome.

Percy’s left eyelid involuntarily twitched as the waves in the harbor rose up again.

Notes:

I have been thinking about how much background information I want to give about the story and I think I am going to limit my additional input regarding spoilers.
I will probably answer questions if I believe that they won't spoiler the story too much, but otherwise I will hold back.

Regarding the Egyptian queen - I believe if you know a little bit about Roman history during emperor Augustus' time you most likely know that there is only one person that she could possible be. She will, however, not play a large part in the story. - Sorry, not sorry. :)
And about the two men in the room with Octavian and Percy - let's just say that Octavian was known to have had two close friends that he relied on during his lifetime. That might be a helpful tip. :)

(Also I really hope I am not again mixing up stuff or forgetting anything.)

Chapter 5: “Being locked up in a cabin sucks, sneaking out is fun and satisfying - Scaring off your soulmate equally so”

Notes:

My longest chapter so far! :)

Hope you enjoy & I'm always happy about comments!

Percy woke with a start. They were moving. Not the typical boat-rocking-from-side-to-side but actually moving forwards. Sailing towards the open Mediterranean Sea. Fisting the pillow (not the comfiest but she had had worse) below her she took a few deep breaths to calm down her racing heart. Instead of calm, however, deep seated despair slowly wormed its way into her chest. It hadn’t been a dream - none of it. She shortly screwed up her eyes before opening them again. Her face a tapestry of anguish. She really received a soul mark and got yeeted through space and time, straight into the unwelcoming arms of a soulmate that had, so far, been intolerable. She felt the surrounding waters react to her distress. They started churning for what felt like the 50th time, ramming into the sides of the ships. ‘Calm down Percy, get a grip. This is not the time to let your emotions result into others getting hurt.’ A few more breaths and the waters calmed down. A deity would still feel the initial tension in the air, but not the bunch of mortals she was on board with. They, as so often, stayed ignorant to the supernatural happenings of their surroundings.
Tucking the unpleasantness of the last few minutes since waking up away, Percy sat up on the cot she had been sleeping on and shortly replayed the happenings of before she went to sleep.

All things considered, things after her initial conversation with her soulmate had progressed very quickly. Percy could proudly say that their awkward, tension-filled talk had not turned into a full-blown screaming match. That did, however, not mean that any of the present issues had been resolved. Quite the opposite, their conversation had gone somewhat like this after her soulmate (the future emperor Augustus) had recovered from whatever he had been shocked from (Percy still couldn’t quite figure that part out):

Percy: “So to repeat that, your adoptive dad is actually Gaius Julius Caesar that went down in history for centuries to come for the stuff he did? How funny, would have never guessed… hahahaaa… (this is so fucked up)”

Octavian (not wanting to get her at all): “Yep. Yep he is. I am so proud to be his son. My great-uncle was amazing and he chose me as his heir.”

Percy (still exasperated and freaked-out): “So I am assuming we are somewhere in the Roman empire? (Btw you don’t by any chance know a guy called Jesus, do you? Just as a note on the side.)”

Octavian (prattling on): “Yes indeed, as of now, as I just won the great battle of Actium and Mark Anthony is dead and Cleopatra my prisoner, Egypt finally took its rightful place as a province of Rome. I know how awesome I am, you needn’t tell me. (And who is Jesus, do I need to know something about that?)”

Percy (awkward laughter): “(Haha. No, no. No worries. Jesus – who even knows the guy, just some unimportant dude I heard about at some point….) Wait did you say Cleopatra… Was that Egyptian queenly-dressed woman Cleopatra? Cleopatra VII, last queen of Egypt? That Cleopatra? And Mark Anthony is dead?!?!”

Octavian: “Yes, the coward committed suicide instead of facing Roman justice. He truly betrayed our beloved Republic. (Bombastic side eye from Percy, ‘Beloved Republic? Yeah, sure...’) And Cleopatra shall now accompany us to Rome. There she shall be presented to the people of Rome during the great, awesome triumphal procession I am already planning. We shall leave Alexandria soon. It does, after all, take quite some time to travel from here to Rome.”

Percy: “Alexandria, with the lighthouse and library and everything? That Alexandria?”

Octavian: “Yes that Alexandria there is hardly any other city, as great as this one, called Alexandria. Now let’s move to more important topics. Where did you say you were from? You must just be a barbarian from the way you dress. I am truly cursed, being soul bonded to an ignorant, barbaric wildling from some uncivilized country.”

Percy: “Yeah, thanks for insulting me and everyone I know. And I’m from the far, far west. A country you probably never heard about before. ”

Octavian: “Do tell, I am curious what I shall have to fraternize with in the future?”

Percy: “Fraternize? And did you call me a ‘what’? Dude, you really know how to charm panties off, don’t you? And it’s America.”

Octavian: “America? Never heard before. (Under his breath: ‘The gods curse me I am truly stuck with a barbarian.’)”

Percy: “Yeah, I heard that you know…?”

Octavian: “None the less, the fates have spoken. You must come with me to Rome as soon as we set sail in the morning. We are now (a look revulsion on his face) bound for forever. I just need to make sure that Cleopatra and her two kids come with us. I was so nice and didn’t murder them (except for her eldest son with my father Caesar, of course, he obviously had to die. Can’t leave any challengers alive after all).”

Percy: “… bro”

Octavian: “Yes, I agree. Now dude that-and-that (Percy didn’t remember his name) will show you to your cabin. You will remain there until we set sail.”

(At this point, it should probably be mentioned that guy-on-the-lounge was still giggling like a maniac and Roman-general-looking-guy looked like he wanted to melt into goo and become one with the floor while Percy and Mr. Soulmate aka Octavian were facing off.)

Neither guy made a peep when Octavian then proceeded to kick her out of his command center and ordered some servant to get her to the cabin that had apparently been prepared for her. (Only much, much later did her head catch up with the fact that it was not some servant, but a real-life, honest-to-gods slave that had shown her to her cabin. And oh, the horror she felt upon that realization…)

Percy wasn’t impressed by the cabin, at all. There was really not much to be seen in there (just a cot with a folded blanket & pillow and a little niche-like table with a chair to sit on). Percy, however, suspected that, considering she was his soulmate, she had actually been give a somewhat nice place to stay. So with a “Who would have guessed, he can actually be nice.” to herself, she let herself fall backwards on the cot and started staring at cabin’s ceiling. She was tired. No, not just tired. She felt a bone-deep exhaustion. The day had just been horrible and draining.

From being woken up at dawn by Annabeth to help water the strawberry fields that needed an extra amount of water during the hot summer months (while having a daughter of Poseidon in camp helped a lot with their little draught problem, it also resulted in her getting less sleep), then being shooed out of camp by Chiron to hunt a monster in the blistering August heat and getting a soul mark and everything that followed after that… Percy closed her eyes. It had become evening already, she knew. After all, the sun had been in the process of lowering itself on the horizon when she had entered the ship. Normally she would have protested her soulmate’s treatment of her more, but she figured tanking energy by getting rest was more important, for now.

And really, the morons brought her, a daughter of Poseidon (not that they knew that, and Percy would be very careful about spreading that knowledge), on a damned ship! They were just asking for her to kick their ass by bringing her on board. It was here that she was at her strongest and most powerful. And it was also the place where she felt a little more at ease in this new, frightening and unknown world. Being rocked directly by her father’s domain she knew she was as safe and relaxed as she could get at this moment. Then the drowsiness firmly took hold of her and before she knew it her eyes slipped close as Morpheus took her away.

This, again, did bring her back to the present, where she had just woken up on the now moving ship. Did she sleep through the night? She suspected so, I wouldn’t be the first time that she had slept a solid 12 hours after an exhausting day. Had her captors (and yes, soulmate or not that was what she would be calling them from now on) really left her alone for 12 hours? She frowned. Then her gaze fell on the table on the other side of the cabin. On it there stood a bowl of water with a piece of linen cloth and next to it a tunic made out of light material, which was colored in pale green and plain brown sandals. So someone had come into the cabin while she was asleep, after all. Creepy, but what had been left behind was appreciated. Truth be told she was still absolutely filthy from the (as she assumed for now) day before. She stood up (gods, she hadn’t even bothered to get off her combat boots yesterday) and made her way towards the offering.

She splashed the water onto her face and then tried to clean the herself as well as she could. (In reality she would only have to shortly jump into the sea to get rid of all the dirt, but as she was momentarily not planning on revealing her status as a demigoddess that was sadly no option. So she made do with the bowl of water.) Still, she didn’t bother to use the piece of cloth to dry off so but let her water magic to the job, so there was that. Then, after shortly thinking about it, she started to strip out of her jeans and camp Half-Blood T-shirt, as in the dim light of the cabin, she had noticed that the T-shirt was ripped at the one side and her jeans filthy. (Jumping in the sea would also help with the jeans but as she was trying not to stand out too much it was not an option.) And wearing the tunic, she hoped, would also help with blending in a little bit.

Only then did she notice that under the tunic there was also a loincloth and what she figured had to be some kind of bra (basically a strip of cloth to support her breasts). After a second, she also went about changing out her modern underwear with the one before her. (It took her a while to get everything on correctly, but hey, she might as well start getting used to this type of clothing, right? After all, the chances of getting home were an estimated – 95%. She felt like bawling her eyes out, but she decidedly pushed the feeling away. Probably not the healthiest way to deal with it but not the time and place.)

Afterwards, she decided against wearing the sandals and left on her boots. She also made sure that her camp necklace was tightly secured around her neck and took Riptide out of the pocket of her jeans. Huh. For a moment she silently stared at the bronze quill in her hand. It seemed that in the last 12 hours or so her sword had decided to go with the times, literally. Because she could have sworn that in the queeny-looking woman’s palace (because thinking back it had been a palace once they left the great hall) it had still been a pen. “Are you kidding me?” she whispered. “Are you trying to break my heart baby? How am I supposed to write with a fucking quill?” It gave no answer – obviously.

A considering look appeared on her face. She laid down the quill on the table and rebraided her hair. Then she proceeded to wrap her plait into a pun at the back of her head and stuck quill Riptide through it using it as a hairpin. Feeling the pun with her hands she grinned. “Congratulations baby you are now the first sword in the world also functioning as a writing utensil and hairpin at once.” She then quickly folded her old/ own clothes, laid them neatly on the table and swore vengeance upon anyone who would try take them away from her.

Stepping back, she took a deep breath. “All done,” she muttered. Looking around in the cabin one more time, she decidedly turned towards the door and murmured: “Time to get out of here.”
The next step was obvious: Picking the lock. Or rather picking the bolt that locked her into the room. It was easy, really. She only removed Riptide from her hair with one hand, while holding up her braided pun with the other hand, stuck the quill through the little empty space between the door and the doorframe and pushed up the bolt. And as soon as that freedom was hers.

Stepping outside the cabin, after having tucked Riptide back into her hair, she first looked to the left then to the right, unsure in which direction she should go. Sue her, but she didn’t plan as far as to what she might want to do or where she might actually want to go once free. After playing a short “eenie meenie miney mo” her finger pointed to the left and she decided that was where she was meant to go. Her ship magic did allow her to know very nook and corner of the ship, and thus she knew that left also lead to the exit of the ship’s belly. Percy didn’t waste any more time and scurried down the corridor.

Surprisingly enough, Percy wasn’t stopped once while making her escape out of the ship’s belly. (Alright, she may have nearly run over a soldier and a servant, but they escaped with no more than a fright.)
Not that she had really felt trapped under deck, quite the opposite. She felt as happy and welcomed as one could feel in a new place. The ship’s presence (think of it like spirit that you can feel but not see) hummed happily in the back of her mind, as it welcomed her with open arms – metaphorically of course. Percy could say that it -and its fleet of brethren sailing by their side- would happily drown all the Romans for her if only she asked. Truth be told, Percy had never before met such a welcoming to her and disloyal to its owners (the Romans) bunch of war ships before. But then again, seafaring hadn’t been New Rome’s fortitude either. So if anything, Percy was the least endangered person on board right now. She held all the cards, even if no one but her knew it besides her.

With light steps she finally sprinted up the final few steps leading on deck. Like a dying person struggling for air, she launched herself out in the open and landed with a purposefully loud bang on deck. She was immediately hit with fresh, salty sea air and the light of the still rising sun. (So she had been right, she had slept through the night.) She blinked. Everyone near the entrance was silently staring at her. On soldier person had been so startled he had even dropped the bucket he was holding.

Percy straightened up, not making eye contact with any person in particular, and confidently strode towards starboard (the right side of the ship). No one stopped her as she laid her hand on the ship’s railing and stared back at the metropolis, which they had apparently left behind not so long ago as it was still visible on the horizon. Percy took the time to soak in the picture the city made. The city she now knew to be Alexandria. ‘Wise girl would have killed to see this,’ a sad little voice in her read remarked. She could still make out the city’s famous lighthouse.

Starting at the coastline, Percy found herself wondering if she would be returning to the city in the foreseeable future. She might not be a history freak, but she would love to take her time to explore it. Percy remained there leaning against the ship’s railing, staring out on the Ocean and towards the city that was disappearing on the horizon. The salty breeze playfully tugging on the strands of her hair that had escaped her braided pun. Standing there she could happily say that she lost track of time.

(Simultaneously she also felt the “discreet” stares aimed at her direction. The soldiers aboard seemed to eye her with barley hidden curiosity in their eyes. Some of them with more weariness, others with a touch of disdain, but all of them had an underlying sense of awe on their faces. – Probably because of the soulmate thing, definitely because of the soulmate thing. During her time in New Rome, she had learnt that soulmates were a thing that Romans honored and revered like hardly any other. But still, she was left alone, so she wasn’t complaining about the stares.)

That was until she heard someone awkwardly clear their throat to her left. Turning around she was confronted with the sight of Roman-general-looking-guy standing there looking like a lost puppy. “Good morning,” Percy greeted in ancient Greek, without missing a beat. “Good morning, my lady,” the guy answered in fluent, if not accent free Greek. He even gave her a little bow. “A pleasure to meet you. As I did not have the opportunity yesterday, I wanted to introduce myself to you now. My name is Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa, general of Rome.”

It was cute how he stood there. Percy grinned and instinctively knew that at heart this guy was a good one. She had a feeling they would get along splendidly in the future. “Please, general Agrippa, call me Percy, I really am no lady. And it is a pleasure to meet you as well.” After a short pause she added: “I am surprised that we are already on the open sea. Queen Cleopatra must have been quick with coming on board.” For a second Agrippa screw up his face. “Ah well…” He hesitated for a second. “It was last evening, after you had already retired my lady (and wasn’t that a nice way of saying she had been locked up) that she took her own life. After that unfortunate incident we saw no more reason to delay and set sail.”

Percy’s brain short-circuited. Cleopatra was dead. (She should have figured, really. Octavian had told her yesterday that Mark Anthony was already dead.) This meant the struggle for power over the Roman empire was over, wasn’t it? From now on, Octavian would remain its uncontested ruler till his death. – Or so she had once heard wise girl ramble on about it.

Percy was about to open her mouth, when jerk nr. 1’s voice aka her soulmate interrupted her. Again. (It was becoming a theme, wasn’t it?) “How did you leave your cabin?” His voice so cold it could freeze over the Sahara, demanded nothing but absolute obedience. (Well, not if Percy had anything to say about it, that was for sure.) Plastering on a fake smile she whirled around to face Mr. Grumpy that was coming up to them. Guy-on-the-lounge following a few steps behind him (and ups, his nose looked like he had run into a truck and lost the fight. Percy felt a twinge of guilt).

“I sneaked out, obviously.” Mr. Grumpy’s scowl deepened, “When I give you a command, you are to follow it. When I say you are to remain there, you are to remain there until I say otherwise. I am your soulmate and thus the head of your household, you are to do what I say.” Percy’s eyes flew up to her eyebrows. (Whatever guilt she had been feeling about his broken nose disappeared all at once.) While she was well aware that ancient Roman society was deeply patriarchal, she would rather jump back into Tartarus before letting anyone treat her than less than their equal. Mr. Soulmate include. Forcing her voice to remain pleasant but also firm, clear and loud, her back straight and head held high she replied: “I suggest to you, that you take back what you just said. I will not be talked to in this tone. And also, write this behind your ears: You do not command me, I say what I want, I do what I want, and I go where I want. You will treat me with respect and as no less as your equal. Is that clear?” She paused. “Of course, the same will hold true for my treatment of you.”

Percy was aware that everyone on board that had heard was gaping at her. Sad as it was, it was very likely none of them had ever seen a woman stand up for herself like this. Well, Percy was very happy to change that.
If it were physically possible there would probably be fumes coming out of her soulmate’s ears and nostrils. Fury shined brightly in his eyes. Percy was aware that, just now, she had probably insulted more than just his pride. By openly questioning his authority she had made him look like a fool before his men. In most other situations she might have thought about showing more consideration, but this was her life, her autonomy, freedom, independence and equality that he was trying to undermine. There would be no mercy from her side in this case.

(And she also knew that the outcome of their current standoff would very much define what their future relationship would look like. She refused to be in a relationship with someone that treated her as less, so if she did not win this altercation -however unlikely that was- she would leave and not look back.
Which would mean that she would be completely alone in this world. Not that Octavian had been good company so far, but he was a link, something she could hold on to, when nothing else remained.)

Octavion threatening stepped closer to her. Not being intimidated she also took a step towards him. They were now chest to chest, face to face. She craned her neck (curse him for being a head taller) to meet his gaze without flinching. (A part of herself couldn’t help but notice how good he smelled; she cursed herself for that.)
She then saw him raise his right hand. Oh no, oh hell no, she would not be hit. Before his hand could come in contact with her face, her fingers firmly wrapped around his wrist and stopped it from moving any closer to her left cheek. Gripping his wrist firmly she growled: “You will not lay your hand on me. Not now, not ever.” Stepping even closer so that her chest touched his she hissed, her breath fanning on this cheek: “Do you understand?”
Octavian’s face contorted into a mask of fury. Hoho, it seemed like playtime was over. (Well good that Percy hadn’t been playing from the beginning.)
He harshly ordered something in Latin and Percy noticed how some of the soldiers around stepped closer. Getting ready to detain her. Percy cursed under her breath. She abruptly shoved Octavian away from her, resulting in him stumbling backwards before he found his footing again.

Percy also took a few steps back. The soldiers soon stood in a half circle around her front, the ship’s railing at her back. Agrippa, who apparently had left her side a while ago, Octavian and the third guy whose name she still did not know stood behind the half circle of soldiers surrounding her. The rest of the crew had stopped pretending they had not been watching them all along and were now shamelessly staring at the debacle unfolding in front of them.
Percy threw a look at Octavian only to see that her soulmate had now an arrogant look on his face, a dark smirk playing around his lips. Feeling secured in his victory over her.

“You will learn,” his voice rang over deck, “that here in Rome, my word is law for you. I am your soulmate, thus I am also the head of your household, and you will obey me, when I decide to rule over you.” Now it was Percy’s turn to feel unfiltered fury rise up in her. How dare he! He had no right, no right at all. He only had power, and he was currently trying to use it to subjugate her.

It was too bad for him then that she had also access to power. Percy decided then and there that hiding her demigodhood was no option. (Her godly heritage (her father) and the powers that came with it were the only significant leverage she had against him.) If he dared threaten to treat her as no more than property, then she saw no reason why she should not dare threaten to drown him and everyone else on board in the sea. (Just for the record: her morals had gone out of the window for now.) The sea started churning.

Relaxing her stance, she looked Octavian straight into the eyes. “You may not see me as an equal Octavian (she saw how he bristled at the casual way she addressed him), but you will still treat me as one or you shall live to regret it.” She let the silence between them linger. “Or rather, you and everyone on these ships shall die to regret it. I might, however, leave one or two of you if I feel generous.”
He started laughing at her. Well, she could not blame him, he did not yet know what was before him. “And pray tell,” his voice full of mocker, “how would you go about killing us all?” Percy gifted him a cold smile, “You should learn not to underestimate others, just because they do not look like much, Octavion. It might become your downfall.
Let me tell you this: The sea is large, terrifying and unpredictable and most of all it does not like to be restrained.”

As the soldiers surrounding her charged at her, after her soulmate gave scoff and short nod with his hand, the sea rose up. A massive wave suddenly loomed behind her. A few of the soldiers, the smarter ones, stepped back, fear and uncertainty in her eyes. Percy scoffed before she let the wave crash in the half-circle of soldiers standing around her. They didn’t stand a chance. They were thrown back at full force. Some of them even crashed in the railing on the other side of the ship. Percy was careful not to let any of them tumble into the sea. That would, after all, be a death sentence and she was out to make an example of them not actually kill them.
Straightening herself she then stepped closer to her soulmate, her smile dripping with saccharine scorn, as she noticed that he and his two friends instinctively stepped back from her after her little display.

“Please,” her voice as sweet and kind as waves rolling on a beach during a picturesque summer day, “let me introduce myself again. I am Perseas Jackson, daughter of Poseidon.” Her eyes flashed with cold fury. “And I will not be chained by anyone.”

Notes:

So just to clear some things up:

1. The year is 30 BC at the beginning of August. Very easy to figure out if you look up when Cleopatra died.
2. My stupid ass initially thought Octavian was 27 around that time, until I did the calculation again and I figured out that he is actually 33. Not gonna lie, I had a short crisis. Then I decided to just roll with it (and I was gladder than ever that I had aged up Percy to 21). However, after that revelation I felt obligated to tag "Age Difference" so I did just that.
3. Believe it or not, but the biggest reason I made this a soulmate fic is because I couldn't imagine another scenario in which Percy wouldn't get fed up with Octavian immediately and leave him standing then and there to go and look for other places and people to live with. - Now she has a good reason to stay. For now at least. :)

Chapter 6: “Rome: the city that stinks – or Percy thinks that the sewage system isn’t quite working as it should”

Notes:

New chapter already!
As always, I'm happy about comments! :)

Looking back, Percy had to admit the rest of their trip to Rome had been… weird, for the lack of better words. For one, every now treated her like glass. As is she would break (or rather break down and drown them all) if only the slightest thing displeased her. (Everyone was very, very quick to accommodate her when she asked for something – not that she was being a spoilt brat or whatever, usually it was just water or food and on one rare occasion she asked for another dress as she after a week felt she had worn the pale green one for far too long. - Octavian never said anything to it. He simply watched her with his pale, cold eyes. So good news for her, he no longer tried to detain or order her around. He just watched and let her be. Creepy.)

The soldiers, on the other hand, were looking at her with fear in their eyes – now knowing that she was much more than she initially appeared to be.
But even more present than the fear was the awe, reverence and sheer, plain worship that they now regarded her with. It unsettled her. Deeply. They were no longer looking at her like a person, they were looking at her like something higher than them that they couldn’t quite grapple. It was horrible, really. She would rather have been treated with continuous mistrust and distain for being a foreigner and so obviously not Roman.

It got so bad, they would randomly stop and stare at her as if expecting her to suddenly grow another head. The initial hushed voices and stolen glances that she had noticed when she had first entered the deck, got worse by 153%. In their eyes, she was no longer simply the soulmate of the man that led them, but an entity of unknown powers of her own. Percy figured that uncle thunderbolt would be jealous if he saw how the humans seemed to worship her as if she was more than a plain, old demigoddess. Not that she cared. As a matter of fact, the thought of Zeus’ displeasure was one of the only things that brought her something akin to happiness in this situation.

When the stares got too much -which was basically always- Percy would abscond to the furthest corners of the ship. Just trying to get as far aways from them as possible and utterly failing every time. The only real refuge she found locked away in her cabin. (But sadly, spending time in the tiny little space threatened to drive her even crazier than the stares did. After the first time she tried it, staying there for something other than sleeping was simply no longer an option for her.) It came to the point that Percy simply walked up in the railing, climbed on the top of it and then took a step forward and to let herself fall into the sea. – Just to get some peace and quiet of her own.

The first time it happened she heard panicked shouts from above. They did not know she could breathe under water and probably feared that she had killed herself. Pettily Percy simply used the water to further propel herself away from the fleet and let them believe just that for the next few hours. (Their wide eyes once she returned hours later by letting the water push her up on deck, only to touch down completely dry, was truly comical. On that note, she also pretended not to notice the relief in Octavian’s eyes once he came running (sorry walking dignifiedly) to see her having returned. – He was probably just happy to not have lost his prisoner aka a potential asset to use for his own gain.)

When letting herself drift near the bottom of the sea she often wondered if her father would bother to show up now that she was alone and in his domain. He didn’t. Go figure. Percy knew the chances of him being aware of her existence were close to 100%. After all, she had very loudly announced herself as his daughter -going as far as evoking his name- to the Romans. Names had power and she had said his on board of a fucking ship. She figured that he must know of her existence but still chose to ignore it. Typical god. (Truth be told, she had probably been lucky her father hadn’t smithed her on the spot, when she had proclaimed herself his daughter without him ever acknowledging her as such before. – She was unclaimed to his knowledge, at least. Future Poseidon had very much claimed her. But Percy did not yet know how this younger, wilder, more unpredictable version of her father would go about treating her existence. It was also possible that she would never be claimed.)

Drifting down there, never too far from the fleet of ships, but still too far away for the mortals to see, she was finally able to enjoy peace and quiet. Musing upon the latest happenings she also let herself wonder if the gamble of revealing her demigodhood would pay off. She had taken a risk. A major one. She remembered that Hazel had once remarked that during the end of the Roman Republic/ the early years of the Roman Empire there had been next to no demigods out there. In modern times no one knew exactly why that was, but the gods had obviously taken a step back from the mortal world. It was astounding really. After all, neither her father nor Zeus had been able to keep it in their pants even when a great prophecy was threatening their very existence.

But other than that, the one thing that unsettled her even more than the soldiers’ reverent gazes or the gods’ suspicious absence was her soulmate. Percy hated to admit it, but he truly was a man unlike any other that she had met before. And that was to say something considering she had met a great deal of unusual men.
She had noticed that since revealing her godly parentage the way Octavian considered her had changed severely. About 180 degrees. It unnerved her in a way few other things had ever done.

He no longer looked at her with obvious disdain and resentful resignation to his fate, but with careful calculation. He looked at her like a newly discovered asset that he was just figuring out on how to use to his best advantage. A chess piece that he planned to position in the way that was most advantageous for him and his goals. And sometime, just sometimes, she imagined seeing short flashes of triumph and satisfaction in his eyes. As if he finally had all that he ever wanted in the balm of his hands. (And thinking about it, he did, didn’t he? He was now the most powerful man in the entirety of the Roman Republic (or could it already be called Roman Empire?) with no more contenders to challenge his power. And at the zenith of his success -the defeat and capture of Cleopatra- the fates granted him a soulmate, something that would make his favor by the fates and gods visible to all. The only problem had been her being a barbarian and uncouth. But -to a major extent- now even that issue had been resolved. Who would care if said soulmate was a barbarian or not, if she was so obviously of divine blood?)
All of it, it made her skin crawl and want to throw up.

It was so very obvious that he wanted something from her. To be exact, he wanted many, many things from the way he looked at her. She had hoped to gain leverage by revealing her powers and she had, to an extent, but at the same time she feared that she had jumped into a game of power she didn’t know how to play.

Octavian didn’t play fast and hard, he played quietly, in a near invisible way and most importantly in the long term. ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither did Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus become emperor in one. It took years, decades even but he secured his family power for the next century.’ Percy thought to herself. ‘And the only reason his dynasty fell was because his successors went batshit crazy – literally batshit crazy. So in the end, it was a miracle (or rather his long-term impact) that his family remained in power for so long. Considering this, he didn’t just do a good job securing power, but a really, really good job.’

And while remaining underwater helped her escape the stolen glances of her crewmates, it didn’t keep troubled thoughts out of her head. Floating on her back, she knew she was driving herself crazy by overthinking. – And really, it wasn’t fair, none of it was. – She had already lost everything and now she would have to play a game of survival with her own soulmate, also. A soulmate that was scheming and plotting on how to use her for his own gain without consideration for how she felt about it. ‘We were supposed to get along like a house on fire,’ she lamented quietly, ‘not get into each other’s hair all the time.’
But, as always, the fates had spoken and Perseas Jackson would never get nice things for free.

As the days slipped by and their journey north-west continued Percy felt them move closer and closer towards Rome. (Her built in water-powered GPS system really came in handy at times like these.)
They sailed around the southernmost tip of Italy and shortly dropped anchor at the ancient city of Messina to stock up provisions. The city laid on the easter part of island of Sicily. And it was separated from mainland Italy only by a strait that the city had gifted its name: The Strait of Messina. Maecenas - that was the name of dude she had once simply referred to as guy-on-the-lounge - apparently a close friend and advisor of Octavian, unnecessarily informed her that Octavian and Sextus Pompey – some other guy he had once fought for power – had, in the past, carried out several battles on in this very strait. Octavian had won, of course. Percy rolled her eyes at that.

(The city itself, Percy didn’t really bother exploring. She was contented with wandering around in the harbor, pretending not to notice the regiment of soldiers that her soulmate had apparently ordered to follow her around without asking her beforehand.)
Anyways, they set sail again after only half a day and went further up north along the coastline.

And then, one morning, the city of Ostia appeared on the horizon. As she was told – this time by Agrippa, nice guy that he was (much more pleasant than Octavian) - the city was also called the port of Rome as it was located at the mouth of the river Tiber and only 16 miles southwest of Rome.
Once they anchored Percy was informed that they would apparently leave behind about half of the warships. They would remain in the military harbor lying near Ostia. Only the other half would travel upstream with them to Rome.
(You know just enough ships to carry all the stuff Octavian took from Cleopatra as spoils of war and soldiers that he needed for his triumphal procession. - Typical Romans.)

Oh, and let’s not forget the ships full of grain that had accompanied them from Egypt. According to Maecenas (he liked to unnecessarily blather a lot), Rome was still recovering from a terrible fame that risen because Mark Anthony had held back shiploads of grain from Egypt to force Octavian to his knees during their latest and final power struggle. (It was much like during modern times. The ones at the top of society fought their petty games of power and the ordinary people were left to suffer.)

To summarize, Octavian was out to make a good impression on the people of Rome. (Completely in the spirit of: true power lies with the common people, they are just not supposed to ever figure that out.) Or, as the Romans themselves said, “panem et circenses” (bread and games) to keep the people contained, occupied and contented. The aristocracy of Rome obviously knew better about keeping the plebs (ordinary people) happy and benign than the French king did during the revolution that would eventually cost him his head. He obviously should have read more history books - might have saved him his life.

While Percy admired Osia from aboard the ship, she didn’t get to see much of this city either (besides the harbor, some parts of the lower city and the beach – for ancient standards it was a pretty awesome city and probably an amazing place to live if you were part of the upper class – I mean living was generally awesome when you had the money, so that was kinda obvious), as Octavian was apparently eager to get to Rome as soon as possible. So off they sailed and upstream the Tiber they travelled towards the beating heart of the Roman Republic? / Empire?

(For the ordinary citizens, Percy figured, it would probably be safer to say Roman Republic as Octavian would not ever admit that he was in the process of transforming the ancient Republic into a one-man-(and it may hurt, but as far as she knew there would never officially be a woman in charge)- empire. He would instead invent the fancy new word “principate” and till his death pretend it wasn’t as good as the same word as kingship.)

Percy enjoyed the journey upstream as much as she had enjoyed the rest of it since Egypt. Which meant that for one, she was generally happy to be near water, but also anxious to get away from the soldiers that were worshipping the very ground (uh boat) she was walking on. And, for the other, she really wanted to escape the cold, calculating gaze of the soulmate that was still doing staring at her and not much talking.
So when the city of Rome, and what she imagined to be a step closer to freedom, came into sight one evening, the first thing she wanted to feel was relief.
Instead, her face contorted as the disgusting smell of shit and waste hit her nostrils. Her horror grew as she realized that it was no other place than Rome, the capital of the world, the city poets would write verses about for centuries/ millennia to come, the place where world history had been and would continue to be written, that the unbearable stench came from.

Abandoning her place at the railing of the stern (the back side of the ship) she speed walk to the bow (front of the ship) where the newly-dupped trio from hell - Octavian, Agrippa and Maecenas – stood. (She knew Agrippa was too sweet to be referred to as such, but he still was part of their group, so he could suck it up.) They were also gazing at the approaching city. “You do not honestly expect me to live in this literal place of shit in the foreseeable future, do you?” she addressed Octavian directly.

Her soulmate turned towards her, his gaze cool, like always, but his voice neutral (her revelation had really done a number on it, hadn’t it? He had been much more… restrained and deliberate in his interactions with her ever since he found out who her father was):
“During the summers, no – the city is known to turn into a unbearable hole of heat and disease and we will thus retire to my villa at the Gulf of Naples – as all those that can afford it do. For the rest of the year, yes – Rome is the center of Republic and as such the only place worth being.” Percy stared at him for a second. Her face was full of disbelief. “And how am I supposed to survive this smell? Are you honestly telling me I am supposed to live in a place that smells like shit? (At this point Maecenas tried and failed to hide his grinning face behind his left hand.) Don’t you people have something like a sewage system?” Octavian’s face remained frozen over. “We do; we are not barbarians. (Percy scoffed at that.) But the countless wars of the past have left not enough time and money for sufficient upkeeping and renovations of the system. Besides, it would be impossible to get rid of the smell completely, anyways.”

She admitted it, she was being a spoilt brat about it, but Percy did not like this. She did not like this at all. Not that New York City didn’t have its own… unique smells, but not even near to what she was currently smelling. But Percy knew there was nothing to be done about this in the immediate future, so she simply kept the scowl on her face and turned back to looking at the approaching city. This time standing next to her soulmate.

When they docked at the harbor directly attached to the lower city (smaller than Osia’s but still impressive for its time) Percy, who still hadn’t gotten over the city’s smell, could at least admit that the bustling metropolis before her had a unique charm of its own. The ancient city of Rome was a living, breathing example of startling contrasts being able to coexist next to one another.

High above, she saw the magnificent temples and buildings that made up the skyline, coexisting with dilapidated skyscrapers (obviously still much smaller than their modern counterparts) that the plebs (the common folk of Rome) rented out. The streets were cobbled but still soiled with dirt of all kinds.
The sight inspired both a sense of wonder and disgust in her. (Probably more disgust due to the smell that she was still very much aware of.)

Once they had arrived, Percy didn’t waste any time making her way towards the port side (left side) of the ship that had already been tied to the wooden landing stage they had docked on to. She supported herself with her right hand on the ship’s railing before throwing her legs over it and jumping down on to the wooden planks below.
(Completely ignoring the resigned look she noticed Octavian throw at her. Yeah, she had gotten the message that he disapproved of her methods long ago.)
She landed right in front of a startled dockworker, that nearly dropped the box he had been about to lift. She gifted him an apologetic smile and apologized for startling him in Greek. (He looked like he didn’t understand a word of what she had said, but the was about the principle of it, wasn’t it? – She had apologized.)

Only when it became apparent that she intended to walk up the landing stage and disappear somewhere in the lower city -yes, she knew that she had no idea about the city’s layout and would probably get lost, but she also really needed to stretch her feet, and it wasn’t as if there wouldn’t be any soldiers following her around if the worst (her getting lost) came to pass- Mr. Soulmate’s cool voice stopped her. “Perseas.”
(Over the last few three weeks of their journey he had taken a page out of her own book and stopped using any kind of formal form of addressing her. (Not that he had really done so in the beginning, either.) The only problem was that while Percy had told him more than once to stop addressing her with her full first name, he simply refused to do so – it made her loathe him even more)

She abruptly stopped walking but refused to turn around and face him. “Yes?” she asked, while trying and failing to keep the annoyance out of her voice. (Wanna bet that he would likely try again to order her around?)
“Night will fall soon; it is best to delay any kind of…” he paused and let the words coated in obvious disapproval linger on his tongue, “excursion you may have planned to another day. We shall retire to my villa on palatine hill this evening. Come along.”
This time she made no effort to conceal her loud sigh as a way of making her own displeasure known, but she also turned around and joined Octavian. (She might not like it, but he had a point there). He, for his part, had by now left the ship with Agrippa and Maecenas. Both of them lingering just a few steps behind him like the good, loyal dogs they were.

Octavian stopped before a sedan chair that seemed to have been prepared for him. (Rich Romans didn’t like walking it seemed.) It was large enough for two people to fit in and was carried by a total of 8 strong-looking men dressed in plain togas. ‘Slaves,’ a horrified little voice in her head whispered, ‘they are slaves.’
While Percy was still having an early-life crisis over the revelation that she was confronted with real-life slavery that was considered perfectly legal in this place and time, Octavian was busy bidding farewell to both Maecenas and Agrippa.
Still in a daze Percy nearly missed when Agrippa also wished her a good evening. But since it was Agrippa -the nicest guy Percy had met so far in this place- she managed to quickly return the sentiment before doing the same with Maecenas.

Before she knew it Octavian had -and she was too out of it to notice that he was being what could be considered nice - drawn aside the curtains the surrounded the sedan chair and ushered her into it. He then sat down opposite her and leant back, his contemplating gaze upon her face. The sedan was lifted up after Octavian shortly knocked his knuckles against its roof and off they went.

The ride to Octavian’s villa went by like a fever dream. Percy did her best to avoid eye contact with him (and stop thinking about what the people carrying them were considered as in this time), whose gaze never left her. All throughout the ride. It was as unnerving as Octavian so often tended to be. Any kind of noise from outside was muffled by the curtains surrounding the sedan and as the minutes passed by the silence between them became suffocating. But Percy refused to say a word and Octavian seemed happy with simply staring at her. (Did he blink? He had to have blinked at some point, right? There was no way his eyes would survive him, never blinking. Right?)

“Don’t you have something else to do other than stare at me?” she finally blurted out. “As a matter of fact,” he calmly answered, “right now I do not.” Percy screwed up her nose: “You hadn’t thought that perhaps I would find it uncomfortable to be stared at like this?” He looked at her for a second, his head tilted, “Oh, believe me, I am aware that staring make you uncomfortable. After all, in the past few weeks you were always eager to escape into the sea whenever my men’s stares got too much for you.”

Perca gaped at him (ignoring what his statement implied about how much he had been watching and observing her lately). “So, you do know, and you are still trying to make me uncomfortable on purpose?!” He shrugged his shoulders. A smirk on his face. – The gestures completely out of place when considering the usual stern stance, he preferred to hold himself with. Percy gaped at him some more before scowling. Deciding that she had had enough she turned away from him and refused to talk to him for the rest of their trip. (Yes, it was beyond childish, but she really, really didn’t care.)
Octavian, for his part, accepted her silence with only a raised eyebrow and quiet grace. – That pissed her off even more.

When they finally arrived at their destination the torches hanging on the mansion’s entrance had already been lit. After they had been lowered to the floor Octavian basically floated out of the sedan chair with practiced grace while Percy stumbled after him with the dignity of a rhino in a porcelain store, cursing lowly under her breath. The man that awaited them at the entrance -apparently a messenger had been send ahead to inform the villa’s keepers of their immediate arrival- was introduced by Octavian as someone called Posca. A former slave that had been freed by Octavian’s great-uncle/ adopted father in his will. Now he was working under the employment of Octavian. “Everything has been prepared the way you asked it to be, dominus.” The man gave a short bow to his employer. He then shortly glanced at Percy, who had come up to stand on Octavian’s side. The curiosity in his eyes barley hidden. “Including the domina’s chambers.” (Only after a heartbeat did Percy realize that he was referring to her.)

“Good, that is good.” Octavian nodded. He then turned to look at Percy’s form. “You will be shown to your rooms.” he said. “And I am sure you would also like to take a bath and eat dinner before retiring for the evening. I will see you in the morning.” Percy raised an eyebrow at this, but eventually only nodded. She felt more than just filthy after sailing for three weeks straight with barely a break and bath to take in between. And something to eat sounded divine as well. With Octavian’s approval Posca beckoned the two young girls that had been standing somewhere behind him over – they were about Percy’s age or even a bit younger- and instructed them to take her to the chambers that had apparently been prepared for her. With a short, plain farewell to Octavian (she would have preferred to say absolutely nothing to the jackass, but urgh the manners her mother had taught demanded otherwise) she followed the two girls down the hallway, leaving him and Posca standing there in the doorway.

Notes:

And just for the record:

1. I really don't care what Posca was actually doing in the series at this point in time. I simply made it so that he was already in Rome before Percy & Co arrived! :)
As announced before, I am playing fast and hard with facts and fiction.
2. I actually did a little bit more research for this chapter, I'm so proud of myself. :))

Chapter 7: “How the savior of Olympus threw a temper tantrum and became an involuntary homewrecker in one go”

Notes:

Have I ever mentioned that I absolutely loathe proofreading?
Because it always takes ages, only for me to later find more mistakes once I go through a chapter again when I already posted it. It's true torture.
– That wasn’t an indirect request for a beta-reader, no worries. :)

And my chapters are getting longer and longer – honestly, I don’t know where I take the motivation from right now.
Also, this chapter title is my personal favourite so far! :))

[And just a warning: there is some mentions of disassociation - incorrectly used!]

Percy woke slowly. It wasn’t a peaceful waking, but it was a calm one.
One that created only one feeling in her, while she motionlessly stared at the ceiling: tranquility.
She knew she wasn’t disassociating, but perhaps she was experiencing something similar -something that was more peaceful.
For how long she laid there motionlessly, without feeling the need to move, she didn’t know. (And she didn’t really care to know either.) With her eyes she traced the simple patterns that made up the ceiling of the room she was lying in. She laid -for the first time in weeks- in a fluffy, cozy, comfortable bed with an abundance of pillows.
(Was it common for Romans to use that many pillows or was it just her bed? - She didn’t know how to feel about remembering that she had once lamented to Octavian about how much she missed her fluffy, in-pillows-suffocating bed from back home. – She decided to not think about it too deeply, as she didn’t want to think about strange, strange things such as Octavian being nice (urgh), first thing in the morning. Or about how he would have been able to pull this off in the short time that it took them to travel from the harbor to the villa.)

Speaking of mornings, Percy slowly pushed herself up. Then she was sitting upright in bed, the blanket she had covered herself with last night slipping down to her legs. She stared out of the open window to her left. (Had that been open last night also? Had it? Has she actually missed an open window -a glass window at that, who would have thought? Had she been this tired? She tried to remember – and utterly failed.)
She then saw -considering the position of the sun- that it probably was closer to midday than to morning. Sighing quietly, she threw her legs over the edge of the bed. She remained sitting there for quite a while, holding onto the edge of the bed with both her hands, staring at the sunlit marble floor, her long, unbound hair curtaining her face. It didn’t matter that she had probably slept close to half a day (12 hours) or even longer. She was still exhausted. But it was more an exhaustion of the mind and soul, rather than an exhaustion of the body.

She simply… she didn’t have the will to move. What would she do out there? Face her new reality? A reality she didn’t want? There simply was nothing out there for her. She had lost everything. She didn’t want to move… she wanted to disappear. She wanted to stop feeling… she wanted the world to stop moving. How could the world keep moving, when for her it might as well have ended?

Percy let herself fall back onto the bed; the back of her left hand pressed against her eyes. (She knew that her soul mark -the one she had mainly avoided looking at since she first got it and with it the mess she was currently in- on the inside of her forearm was thus pointing towards the room’s ceiling. She knew it didn’t deserve the aversion she felt towards it. (Not that the mark had any feelings.) It was after all a true beauty with its blue, green and golden swirled patterns.)
She closed her eyes; opened them again. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes. This time she didn’t try to stop them from falling. For the first time in close to a month -it had really been that long since she arrived, hadn’t it- she let herself cry. She didn’t cry loudly. She didn’t sob; she didn’t even move. She just lied there and silently let the tears run down the sides of her face, till they finally disappeared in her hairline.

She cried because it was all too much. (The tears flowed even quicker after she remembered that she must have turned 21 at some point during the last 3 weeks. – And she hadn’t even remembered. So preoccupied had she been with dealing with the (permanent) situation she had found herself. And there hadn’t been anyone to remind her, either. There had been no one to celebrate with her – no blue birthday cake handmade by one Sally Jackson for her… she quickly pushed that thought away. It would only hurt more.)

Additionally, she felt that she had not had a real moment of peace in the last month. Not even when she had drifted in the depths of the sea. (There had always been this fear. The fear of her father appearing.) She wouldn’t have been able to bear it - him not recognizing her, attacking her, treating her like a stranger.
(She didn’t want to admit it, but she had been clinging to this stupid little hope that perhaps her father might become a contestant in this new life of hers - where nothing else felt certain anymore.) She knew she would not find the father she had known before in this time and place, but she still hoped for something… something better, something or rather someone that might give her security…

She had no idea how long she lied there, silent as a statue, just letting the tears flow. Not ever making a sound. Only after a long while did she sit up again (after the tears had slowed down) and wiped the remains of her emotional outburst away. She sat straight again, waiting. Still staring into space with red eyes and a bloated face.
Only when she was certain that 95% of the evidence of her ever crying was gone, did she push herself up and stood for the first time this day. (She felt even more exhausted than when waking up - but who cared. She had really needed a good cry, after all. For the moment at least, the weight of all that had happened to her lately felt just a little easier to bear.)

She took a deep breath and then decidedly made her way to the door that led out of the chambers she had been given. To do that she needed to walk through another room adjoined to the bedchamber that at first glance gave the impression of being a Roman sitting room. It did, after all, have a lot of lounges and low tables and so on. (But what did Percy care to know.) Other than the door that led out into the hallway there were two other rooms adjoined to the sitting room. (She had felt no need to explore them yesterday, and she didn’t feel one today, so she just didn’t.)

Percy pushed open the doors leading to the hallway.
And jumped back into the room just as sudden. (She would deny till the end of her days that a frightened little squeak had left her mouth. She would.) Laying a hand over her racing heart she, she stared at the woman standing opposite to her - in the hallway- in disbelief. The woman, possessing mouse brown hear and wearing a simple tunic made of coarse fabric and a plain hairstyle – her hair was pulled back in a pun at the back of her neck - recovered quicker than Percy and before she knew it she was bowing to her. Then there was more shuffling and suddenly there were three additional women standing next to the first, all four lined up in a row and dressed in much the same fashion. They were also bowing to her. Distantly did Percy note that none of the women wore shoes. (Percy then remembered that she didn’t wear any either. Welcome in the club.)
For a moment all five of them remained standing motionlessly. Internally, Percy was freaking out. (What was going on? What was this situation? Why were these women here? How long were they here? Had they been waiting for her? And if yes, for how long? The whole night? – Percy sincerely hoped not.)

A very intelligent “Uh…” left her mouth. The woman she had first seen, tentatively opened her mouth after what felt like an awkward eternity of Percy staring at them like a dumbstruck moron. The four girl?/women? -they seemed her age or a bit younger- remaining standing in front of her with their heads towards the ground, their backs bend. “I hope you had a peaceful rest, domina,” woman number one said in fluent, accent free Greek. (It took Percy about five seconds to realize the woman was referring to her, when saying ‘domina’.) Not wanting to look even more moronic than she already did, she quickly pulled herself together.
“Yes, totally. I totally slept uh.. peacefully, yes that was that…” Percy trailed off again. “Can I help you four with something?”

Still not raising her head, number one answered with a quiet and submissive yet clear tone: “By orders of the dominus we are here to serve you, domina.” She paused. “In whatever way you might need us to.” (It took Percy another five seconds -yes, she admitted it, she was a bit slow this morning- to realize that ‘dominus’ was Octavian.) “Octavian did tell you that?” she asked.
The women managed to hide it quite well, but Percy saw them flinch at the casual way she addressed Mr. Soulmate.
(Percy filed that information away for later.)
She would probably have fought this -her getting attendants or whatever they were to her “by orders of the dominus”- more, hadn’t the four women in front of her seemed like a bunch of frightened little rabbits. (She had this inkling that they would probably have even more reason to be frightened if she rejected their service. – Urgh, Romans and how they treated people.)

She sighed heavily, crossing her arms in front of the soft sleeping tunic she had put on after the amazingly, refreshing bath she had taken last evening -before falling face first into her fluffy new bed- and casually lent against the doorway. “Alright, alright,” she sighed, “none of that bowing. Come one, straighten up ladies… on that note, I hope you all understand me…” she trailed off. “We do, we all speak Greek.” number one assured her, still bowing. (They all had apparently still not dared to stand straight. Percy’s eyelid twitched. She would have to have a very, very serious talk with Octavian.) “Alright ladies (Percy saw them flinch at that, also) up with you.” – They finally did just that and Percy relaxed for a fraction. “And please,” she gifted them an encouraging smile, “call me Percy.”

They looked as if she had suggested they jumped into a pit full of venomous snakes (with that kind of venom that promises a slow and painful death). Number one shifted nervously. Percy sighed tiredly. “Yes, what is it? Just say it I won’t be mad.” Number one hesitated answered: “Dominus warned us you might have… unconventional ideas domina, and that were under no circumstances allowed to call you by anything other than your proper title.” (Percy’s eyes flashed, her muscles tightened. It seemed like she would have to have a great number of very, very serious talks with Octavian. He could shove all that shit up his ass.)

Seeing that she was fighting a losing battle, she relented – for now. Getting the impression that continuing to stand in the hallway would be even more awkward she quickly ushered the women into her chambers. There she let herself fall on one of the lounges in her “sitting room”. Crossing one leg over the other and her arms over her chest she started at the four women. They had, in front of her, automatically lined up in a row again.

“So,” Percy awkwardly broke the silence, after it became apparent that none of the women would. “Since you are apparently stuck with me, what are your names?” She looked at them expectantly. Number one -so far, she seemed to be the leader of their little group- hesitantly started (Octavian must really have put the fear of the gods in them, for them to continue to behave like this): “My name is Vespuna, domina.”
The others soon followed with equally meek voices. Apparently the next woman - blond hair and hazel eyes - was Germana -yes, she was really named after the part of the world came from (Germania, in the 21st century known as Germany)-, the one with dusky skin was Ephira (from Numidia) and the last one, apparently much like Vespuna from Greece, was called Gamella.

Percy then inquired of them what attendants usually did for their mistresses as she had 0,00 ideas what she was supposed to do with them. Was she supposed to send them into a corner (they had looked absolutely terrified when Percy had offered them to sit down on one of the other lounges – Ephira even looked close to fainting. So no forcing them to sit down, it was.) and leave them there until they could retire in the evening to go to sleep? (That honestly sounded like a horrible way to spend the day. She at least knew that she would go crazy if she were confined to such an enclosed space for that amount of time. Shitty ADHD.)

After some encouraging Vespuna (she would really have to work on making the women more comfortable around her) had named things such as keeping her chambers clean, helping her with any kind of correspondence she had (yeah fat chance at that, as if she would ever willingly write someone a whole ass letter just because she could) or helping her get ready. At the last mention Percy perked up.
Not because she was so keen on someone helping her get dressed, but truth be told, she still hadn’t completely figured out Roman clothing. And from the disapproving looks Octavian had sometimes thrown her (and his consequential muttering to himself) on their sea journey she figured that she had probably butchered the correct way of wearing the tunics she had been given more than once.

So Percy politely asked them to help her with just that. From the bewildered looks they had subtly thrown towards each other; they were probably not used to having the word “please” thrown into their direction. (While the women were still busy being puzzled, Percy desperately trying to ignore the truth that was becoming more and more obvious. – Concerning the girls’ status in ancient Rome, of course. Or rather, their absolutely lack of status in this godsforsaken (no, not really, the gods were very much present, but Percy still felt that the term was fitting) city: They were slaves. She gulped heavily.)

Soon after, Percy was busy staring down at her hands with a faraway look in her eyes, while sitting on a comfortable stool in front of what would probably be best described as an ancient Roman vanity. It even had a mirror - primitive as it was. It was a hand mirror, made of polished silver, at least Percy suspected it was silver. (She had great fun trying to make out her blurry face on it.)
The girls helped her into a plain dark blue tunic that she had chosen. (She only felt comfortable with them helping her as she wore a loincloth and a bra-thingy.) It was pinned on her shoulders with silver broaches and belted around her waist. Lastly, she also got some leather sandals – when Ephira brought them Percy stared at them for a second before accepting the woman’s help with putting them on. (During their sea journey she had firmly refused any footwear other than her beloved combat boots, so this really was new territory for her. And that had been for more than three weeks. – A distant part of Percy noted that it had become September already. Before she could again despair over how long she had already been away from home, she quickly pushed the thought away.)
Percy had to admit, compared to modern day sandals they looked a bit silly in the way they were tied, but they were comfortable and well-made so she saw no reason to complain.

When the women then tried to put her hair up in an elaborate hairstyle -they even brought out a primitive curling iron to try and curl her hair (Percy nearly got agonal respiration when she saw that thing, thinking for a second that they intended to murder her with it)- Percy vehemently refused. She had no interest in ruining her long locks with the probably much too hot thing. She also refused any kind of cosmetic they offered her. She instead braided her hair into a straight braid that she laid over her left shoulder and left her face bare. (At this point she noticed the women’s curious, awe-struck looks towards her soul mark (she had expected nothing less, it was after all the stuff of legends – no living person in Rome had probably seen one before), but she said nothing as they were thankfully very discreet about it.)

Riptide went into a little pouch that was fastened to her belt. The women the way she dressed herself with puzzled gazes. – They probably did not know of other noblewoman that forewent any kind of jewelry, make-up or elaborate hair styles.
(Don’t misunderstand her, they didn’t argue her choices. They literally bowed down to her every whim - it disconcerted Percy much in the same way the soldiers’ worshipful gazes had – so there wasn’t any kind of discussion about whether or not she should wear or use something. They just quietly offered everything to her and quickly took all the things away once Percy had shaken her head to indicate a clear “no”.)

Seeing them so extremely accommodating and submissive over the course of their interaction made her unbelievable sad.
Percy knew she could do very little to actually free them from their plight. Slavery was an inherent part of ancient Roman society. To really do something about the practice Percy would have to start a full-blown revolution. And the likelihood of that revolution -even with her, a demigoddess, leading it- being successful was more than low. After all, none of the slaves in the empire were trained fighters (well except the gladiators, of course). Besides, Percy was more than tired of war.
But that also didn’t mean that Percy would just sit by and do nothing. At least not in her own surroundings. She could start slowly. By, for instance, demanding of Octavian that he freed the four women before her sooner rather than later.

Once Percy was fully dressed and ready to go, she asked Vespuna if they could show her around the villa. (Percy only saw advantages in knowing the layout of the place she would most likely be living in in the foreseeable future. – Besides, escaping (if that ever became necessary) was also much easier if you knew what a place looked like.) The women readily agreed. (Not that Percy had expected the opposite.)
Vespuna one step and the other women three steps behind her went off.
They all insisted on accompanying her as they were instructed by Octavian (absolute twat that he was) to never leave her side and also vehemently refused to walk next to her, since, apparently, that was less than appropriate.

Vespuna then showed her where the other bedchambers of the manor were. They obviously didn’t try and get closer to those. Apparently, Mr. Soulmate’s were just down the corridor. Then they visited the dining room, the kitchen -at Vespuna’s quiet suggestion they didn’t actually go in there, apparently, the staff was very busy preparing lunch- and the Atrium (a little front court that had a little rainwater pool in the middle, whose purpose was to cool off the house on hot days).

When they were about to leave the Atrium Percy suddenly saw a ghostly figure floating on the other side of the yard. From her time in New Rome, she knew exactly what that was. A Lar, the household spirit of this villa.
These spirit were, in Percy’s opinion, some of the most obnoxious beings that she had ever had the displeasure of meeting. They were nosy, sticking their noses into everything and anything that happened in their allocated house -since, as far as they were concerned, everything in their household was their business- and obnoxious in their want for order and propriety in their domain. Which was basically the whole house and the grounds adjoint.
They didn’t tolerate one misplaced sock. (Not that the Romans had socks, lucky them. Made it much easier to not misplace or lose them.)

Percy quickened her step and basically ran out of the Atrium before the Lar could see her. (He would instinctively know that she was a demigoddess and thus able to see him. And once that happened, she wouldn’t -ever again- have a moment of peace.)
Vespuna, Germana, Ephira and Gamella exchanged confused looks but didn’t question her sudden hurry. Then Vespuna showed her where the servants’ (slaves’) quarters, Octavian’s study (Percy did already know that she would avoid that place and its owner like the plague) and the library were.

(At this point it should probably be mentioned that the whole villa was a work of art. Beautifully made frescos, marble floors, ceilings ornated with simple patterns, statues made of white stone and tall pillars keeping the whole structure standing. Percy was suitably impressed. When she told Vespuna so, she was quite surprised when the woman informed her that her soulmate apparently had simple tastes for a Roman patrician and that his villa was much plainer than those of many other aristocrats.
In this instance, Percy agreed with Octavian (not that he would ever hear that from her) that sometimes less was more. She imagined the villa would appear gaudy if there was more unnecessary decoration.)

Lastly, the women led her to what would be Percy’s favorite place in the villa: The garden. A small smile appeared on her face when she saw the little pools of water surrounded by greenery and gorgeous flowers. The birds were chirping in the surrounding trees, giving the garden an even more idyllic atmosphere. Percy walked to the edge of one of the pools and remained standing there for quite a while. Simply soaking in the atmosphere.

Percy would have loved to enjoy the quiet rippling sounds the water made for longer, but then her and her companions were suddenly no longer alone in the little garden.
A pretty woman holding herself upright with quiet dignity, modesty and pride rounded the corner. She wore her chestnut brown, curled hair in an elaborate updo. A crown thingy upon laid on updo that in turn fixated a long, translucent, light-green veil that she wore over her head.
Her green tunic was beautifully decorated and following behind her was an entourage of attendants. She looked the very picture of what Percy imagined a proper Roman noblewoman look like.
But as the distance between them closed Percy noticed the dark circles under her eyes. The plain exhaustion that seemed to weigh the pretty lady down. Not even her dignified demeanor could hide it.

Percy, having many other things in her head and not caring one bit about who the woman might be, simply settled for gifting the lady a polite smile and little nod once she was close enough (look at that Octavian, she did have manners!) and then turned back to admiring the pool.
Trying her best to enjoy the peaceful atmosphere, which she knew stood in stark contrast with the bustling city behind the villa’s walls.
But her peace didn’t last. Suddenly the woman stood in front of her. Blinking in confusion Percy stared down at the other woman, which stood at half a foot smaller than herself.
(She also noticed that all four women accompanying her suddenly seemed to shrink into themselves. Weird.)
Turning her attention back to the women, she noted that she didn’t like the haughty gaze the lady examined her with. The woman’s hooded eyes were obviously looking down at her. And if there was one thing Percy didn’t like it was bullying – not that the lady was currently bullying her, but she had an aura similar to a bully.
She was suddenly overcome with the feeling that she and the one standing before her were not on the same wavelength (pun very much intended).
Just seconds later her feeling was proven correct.

“Are you the one named Perseas?” At least, the lady got straight to the point. And her Greek was excellent. Percy could appreciate those two things if nothing else.
“And what if I am?” Percy asked. “Nothing really.” the woman was obviously trying to stare her down and make her cower.
Percy nearly started laughing at that. She had faced titans, giants and even her uncle the great thunderbolt himself and neither cowered nor bowed.
The little noblewoman did not stand a chance at ever intimidating her. If anything, she reminded Percy of a little kitten trying to raise her hackles to appear larger than she was. Not taking the bait, Percy stared right back into the woman’s eyes, going as far as raising one eyebrow in amusement. (The woman bristled. Percy had to stop herself from chuckling at that.)

But at the same time Percy had met too many foes (big and small) to know not to underestimate someone just because they looked small and harmless. She had a feeling the woman had the potential to become -if not a dangerous adversary- a persistent thorn in her side. At the very least.
She felt the likelihood of her ever liking the woman was very little, but her respect she could give the lady.

Then the woman’s next words made her world screech to a stop.
“I was only curious about the woman that the fates have decreed to be the one to carry the other half of my husband’s soul.” The lady was staring Percy straight into the eyes, daring Percy to oppose her words. Percy slowly blinked – she was in a sudden daze.
“Husband?” she repeated in disbelief. “Are you telling me that you are Mr. Grumpy’s wife? You married him? Voluntarily?”
The outrage on the woman’s face would have been funny had Percy not been so out of it.
“Such disrespect.” The lady hissed agitated. For a second, all pretense of politeness was gone from her face.
With a cool, condescending voice she continued to berate Percy. “It is true then. That the fates’ have been cruel enough to curse my beloved with an uncouth barbarian for a soulmate.” She inspected Percy’s getup with a disdainful gaze.
“True, you may take a barbarian out of the wilderness and dress them up as one of us, but you can never take the wilderness out of the barbarian. In the end, they will always remain as what they were born as.”

Percy probably should have been insulted by her words, but she was still reeling form the discovery that the son of a bitch aka her soulmate had been on one and the same boat with her for close to a month and not once thought to mention to her that he was a married man.
“Huh.” Was all Percy said in a daze while the woman continued to belittle her. – Well, at least she tried to do that. Percy didn’t even register half the things she was saying.

But then the lady gifted her a smile both as sweet as honey and as venomous as a snake. Percy instantly became wary.
“And,” wife-of-her-soulmate continued sweetly (she managed to hide the rage, she had briefly shown before, quite well now), “I heard the most interesting rumor about you.” “You did?” Percy asked blankly.
“Yes indeed,” wife-of-her-soulmate stepped even closer to her, probably trying to intimidate her.
“I heard you claim to be the daughter of a god.” Scorn filled her face. “The audacity. You, a backward barbarian (yes, Percy knew the lady was trying to insult her, but the insults didn’t hit - so how was she supposed to feel insulted?) claiming to possess divine blood. As if any god would lower themselves to be with a woman of the likes of your mother – she was certainly no better than a whore.”
Alright Percy took it all back, the woman knew how to make her feel insulted, after all. Deeply insulted.
As far as Percy was concerned, the lady could try and insult Percy herself all she wanted, but Sally? Sally was to be left out of it.

Sudden rage twisted Percy’s face. She stepped forward, forcing the woman backwards. “You can insult me all you want, you hussy,” she snarled in Greek. Her face millimeters away from the other woman’s. “But -and that is not up for discussion- you leave my mother out of it.”
She balled her hand into fists on both sides of her body, in an effort to keep from laying hand on the woman. “Do. You. Understand.” Her face a mask of fury, her voice lowered into a inhumane snarl, Percy knew that the waters in pools besides had started to churn and that the ground under her feet - it had started shaking.
Next the villa’s walls also started to tremble, threatening to collapse.

(In the distance she heard the people of Rome’s panicked screams. They obviously weren’t spared from Percy’s fury either. Not that she cared at this very moment. As far as Percy was concerned, they all could go and die right along the hussy in front of her.)
Apparently, the bitch who had just insulted her mother had noticed as well that Percy wasn’t playing around anymore. Her wide, terrified eyes slowly trailed to the quivering floor before her gaze rose up to again look at Percy’s face.

“Do. You. Understand.” Percy snarled again. Her whole body shaking the lady quickly nodded.
“Good.” Percy relaxed her body for just a bit and the ground stopped shaking, the water stopped churning.
“That is good,” Percy repeated, “very good.” She shot the woman a humorless smile. It was full of teeth. “Just remember, if you ever dare smear my mother’s name again, you won’t like the consequences. Believe me.”

With flourish she then whirled around to her new attendants, gifting them a sunny smile, before quietly examined them: They looked shaken, blank fear on their faces, shivers in their limps.
Ephira and Gamella were barely holding themselves up.
Vespuna managed to put up quite the mask, hiding her fear well. But her eyes, they betrayed that all she really wanted was to turn around and run far, far away.
And lastly, Germana. Germana, who had been quiet and unassuming so far, looked ready for a fight. - Oh, Percy would like that one. She smirked.

“Well ladies,” this time they were too shaken to startle at her addressing them this way, “off we go, shall we?”
She turned away from her attendants and made to breeze past wife-of-her-soulmate. Then she decided otherwise and stopped to look at the shaken woman from the corner of her eye.
“By the way, what are you called, lady?” The lady in question looked at her like a deer in the headlight before whispering, “Livia, Livia Drusilla.”
Percy nodded, an unconcerned look on her face. “Well then Livia Drusilla, I would say it was a pleasure to meet you but I’m afraid that would be a plain lie.”
Percy scrutinized shaken Livia Drusilla for one more moment before striding past her.

While walking, she threw a look over her shoulder to study her attendants for a second (all four of them were already scurrying to follow her) and called back to them:
“Let’s go and find my wayward soulmate. He has some explaining to do, don’t you think so?”

Notes:

And just to make this clear, this story does not really focus on bashing Livia Drusilla or something like that. She obviously doesn’t like Percy and since the story is mainly from Percy’s POV Livia will appear antagonistic.
I do, however, want to make it clear that I do not intend to completely hate on her in this fic. (But she won’t be nice either, I assure you.)

You have to imagine: Livia just found out her husband has a soulmate. – Before Percy turned up she was (one could argue) the most powerful, influential woman in Rome by default of being Octavian’s wife.
Now things are no longer as easy for her as they once were.
So it’s no wonder she is extremely emotional after just having received the news and consequently she also lashes out on Percy when she coincidentally meets her right after. (Not that any of this is fair to Percy, of course.)

Chapter 8: “Percy meets the in-laws – she makes a good first impression (not)”

Notes:

Just some words at the beginning:

1. For all the people that comment: I really, really appreciate your comments and they always motivate me to keep writing. But as it stands now, I just won’t manage to answer all of them.
I’m sorry about that, but I assure you I read and appreciate all of them!
(Though sometimes I might, of course, miss one or the other comment.)

2. At this point, I have read more than once that I should do more paragraphs. And I don’t know if all of you noticed, but I tried to improve on that – and I will continue to do so.
I admit, I still find it weird to do because that is not at all my usual style of writing. – I prefer doing very long paragraphs with very long sentences.
(Though, believe it or not, I have been making a conscious effort since the beginning to make my sentences shorter.)
Also, I will probably never be the person to instinctively do one-line paragraphs or one-sentence paragraphs (there will be some expectations, of course).

Now, if some of my readers are really suffering from some kind of reading disorder (I hope that is the correct way of saying it) and really have trouble reading the story, then please tell me this explicitly in the comments and also tell me explicitly what I can change to make it better for you.
Because if a person really needs it, then I am willing to adjust my writing.

But if it's just about preferred ways of reading stories (like preferring longer or shorter paragraphs – I know on a phone reading is more handy with shorter ones that is why I already adjusted my formatting for a bit) and not really about struggling with reading, then I am unwilling to give up even more of my writing style.
(That sounds way more dramatic than I want it to, but the sentiment remains the same.)

[And I hope it is clear that I mean none of this in an offending way - it’s just where I stand at the moment.]

Anyways, I hope you enjoy!!! :))

Percy didn’t waste any time storming (yes, she was kind of angry, sue her for walking a bit quicker than usual) through the villa’s hallways towards where she now knew Octavian’s office to be. (Now, don’t misunderstand, Percy didn’t know for sure that she would find her soulmate there, but it was as good a place to start looking as any other.)

While rushing through the villa servant, attendants and the occasional guard jumped to the side once they saw her approaching. (If she hadn’t been as furious as she was, she would probably have felt a little bit sorry about scaring them the way she did -and making the four girls run after her in high speed-, but right now regret and shame were the last things on her mind.)

Once she reached the wooden doors that made up the entrance to Octavian’s office she abruptly stopped before it as two guards were guarding the doorway on both sides.
She crossed her arms before her chest and ignored her panting and wheezing attendants coming to a halt behind her – they obviously didn’t possess bodies as trained as hers. (Not that a great number of mortals could keep with Percy. More like a handful if at all. She was, after all, a trained warrior, a war veteran and had the advantage of having the superior physique of a demigod.)

She glared at guard 1 and 2. (At a much later point in time she would find out that the two men were part of the Praetorian guard. The only guards that was legally allowed to be armed in the city of Rome. Traditionally they were tasked with protecting the consuls of Rome – later during the times of the Roman Empire (that had technically already started with the defeat of Mark Anthony and Cleopatra) they were the Roman emperor’s official guard and became a powerful political force of their own.)

Making herself tall she demanded, “Let me through to see”, here her voice took a bit of a mocking tone, “the dominus of the house. I need to speak to him. Urgently.”
Guard 1 answered in broken Greek without even looking at her. Both of them preferring to stare straight towards the other side of the hallway.
(Well Percy can’t blame them for being good at their job, can she?) “The dominus is in a meeting. He is unable to receive any visitors at this moment.” (So, Octavian was in the office, good for her.)

(Also, Percy was getting more and more impressed by how many Romans seemed to be able to speak Greek. Made her life much, much easier. Still, she would have to ask Octavian for a Latin teacher. And fast. She didn’t want to depend on others to communicate with the broader population of Rome. So even though the very thought of asking Octavian for anything made her skin crawl she would swallow her pride to do just that. Just this once. ‘Be pragmatic. Know when to pick your battles,’ voice-Annabeth-in-her-head whispered to her.)

Having minimally calmed down, Percy raised an eyebrow. “While I admire your dedication to doing your job properly, I really need to insist to see him. Step aside. Right now.”
This time guard 2 answered. “We cannot, I apologize domina.” (The amount of people automatically calling her ‘domina’ made her sick. Probably due to the way she was dressed. – like a noblewoman.)
Percy let out a deep sigh, she started a the ground for a moment. Her shoulder sacked. She then waved away Vespuna who meekly tried to advise her to simply wait until Octavian was finished with his meeting.
(Most likely well-meant by her, but Percy had a point to make and a reputation to uphold. In no way could she let Octavian live under the delusion that it was alright to keep her in the dark about important -very important- things. – Such as him having a wife. No way.)

“Alright,” she sighed, “I can respect that you are determined to do your job. Considering this, I promise you that I will only unarm and incapacitate you and try to keep your injuries to a minimum.”
At this point, guard 2 let out a snort of laughter. Percy sighed again. Deeply.
She cracked her knuckles and stretched her neck.
(Well, they most likely hadn’t seen many women capable of fight in their life, and they were elite guards. Few would probably be able to actually defeat them in battle – thus, Percy would them forgive for the slight.)
“Girls,” she called out to her attendants, “step back. This might turn ugly rather quickly. I’d rather you don’t get hurt.” Vespuna opened her mouth to protest. Percy narrowed her eyes. “Now. That is an order.” (Really, she would rather not order them around, but even less did she want them to hurt.)

After she made sure, that the four had really stepped back and that there was now a sufficient amount of space between them and her, she got into a fighting stance. She grinned at the guards that slowly adopted weary expressions. Noticing that she was actually serious about what she had just said.
Soldier 1 put his hand on his sword. “Please domina, we really don’t wish to fight …”
“Nope,” Percy put a mischievous grin on her face, “too late for that.” Then she charged at them, full speed.

Looking back, the fight really had been a disappointment. (Thinking logically, she shouldn’t have been surprised. So far in her life she had mainly fought fellow demigods, monster or -you know- titans, giants, gods and rarely ever humans. So it shouldn’t have been a revelation that compared to all of them mortals would be weak and easily defeated opponents. – After all, they didn’t have the superior strength, speed or reflexes demigods were “blessed” with to increase their likelihood of survival. Considering all the monster out to make a meal out of them.)

It was a walk in the park to rip number 1’s sword out of his hands and bash his head against the wall (he would only a have a little concussion, Percy promised) and then disarm and put down stunned number 2. Maybe even easier than number 1 considering he busy was standing there with an open mouth. Utterly stunned.
Putting her hand on her hips she stared down at the defeated guards. “Well, that was disappointingly easy,” she sighed. (She ignored her attendants that had huddled together to the sides. All of them with different degrees of shock and fears on their faces. Percy did feel a twinge of guilt for all she had already put them through in the single morning they had known one another. – She would have to do something about that later.)

She then raised her left leg to push open the now-unguarded doors with her foot. Hard. Really hard. (Let no one ever be able to claim that she didn’t know how to make a dramatic entrance.) The doors banged against the office walls (loudly).
Holding her head high and keeping a pleasant expression on her face she stalked into the office.

The sigh that greeted her was… unusual. Or at least, not what she had expected. She had believed that she would find Octavian with some fellow stuffy, old senators, acting all high and mighty. Instead, she found him sitting behind his -in scrolls drowning- desk. Standing before him were two Roman noblewomen. (At least from the way they were dressed – not that Percy of all people was an expert on that.)
One of them -the younger one, with blond hair holding a cup with most likely wine (typical Romans, drinking this early)- was sitting in one of the two chairs on the other side of his desk.
The older one -with deep red hair, streaked with the occasionally greys- was standing in front of the it (the desk, that is). Both of her hands braced against it. Seemingly agitated and read to demand stuff of Octavian. – She very much looked like Percy’s kind of person in this moment.

Upon her dramatic and loud entrance all three parties turned around.
(Her attendants, she noted, decided to remain outside without being told to do so – probably for the best.)
The two women looked sufficiently frightened by her entrance. On Octavian’s face, however, only mild annoyance was visible. (Percy felt a bit miffed at that. Had she become this predictable to him? Or was he just unscareable? She really, really hoped not.)

“Oh my,” Percy exclaimed loudly, “and here I thought perhaps I might find you in a tryst with some other lady. How disappointing.” She sighed dramatically. “I really thought otherwise. You know,” her smile took a sharp edge, her eyes narrowed, “considering you seem to have been making a habit out of withholding information -important information- from me.”

“Perseas,” her soulmate greeted stiffly, his left hand clenching the edge of his desk (she was very happy to have noticed this little detail) “I am assuming all of this has been your doing?”
Putting an innocent look on her look on her face, Percy asked, “Your guards, you mean?” She demonstratively looked back towards the doors. Both of them visibly laying -and groaning in pain- before the entrance. She looked back to Octavian and gave an innocent little shrug at the pissed off look he threw into her direction.
(Percy was sure: If he had been a less dignified person he would already have facepalmed out of frustration.)
“You might have to find new ones. I took them out before I was able to say ‘uncle-thunderbold-has-a-stick-up-his-ass.’”

Just then a loud clap of thunder cut through the sweltering (it’s Rome, it’s still hot at this time of the year) autumn air. All three other people in the room (even Octavian though he managed to hide it quite well) flinched. - So her uncle already knew of her existence, good to know.

“Perseas,” Octavian hissed through gritted teeth. “Are you trying to kill us all by offending the gods? Apologize, now!”
Percy sighed heavily -she was doing way too much sighing today. “Yes, yes, so sorry dearest uncle. Won’t happen again, I promise,” she yelled up towards the office’s open window behind Octavian. (Don’t tell anyone but she crossed fingers while saying that.) The sky grumbled one more time before finally going quiet.

After nothing happened for another 3o seconds Octavian and the two ladies visibly relaxed. Soon after, Octavian turned back to glaring at her. The two women just looked wary. (She had apparently managed to get on their bad side by being blasphemous. – By ancient Roman standards of course.)
Percy sighed before slinking forward to the side of Octavian’s desk. They were now only three feet apart from each other. Her heart gave a traitorous little flutter, before she decidedly squashed it. Not the time.
“I apologized, didn’t I? It’s all in the past now, so don’t look so prissy and pissy, Octavian.” He just continued glaring - probably already thinking about new security protocols (which meant more soldiers following her around) with the aim of keeping her from regularly getting into more trouble.

Percy sighed again. “Listen, I came here for a reason, so let’s forget about – you know that,” she said while shortly tilting her head towards the window and the sky outside. Octavian kept his death-glare on.
“So, as I was saying:”, she took a deep breath, “Withholding important information. Bad.” She raised her index finger as if she was reprimanding a little child. “Very bad,” she repeated.
“The earthquake,” Octavian interrupted her again, “was that you? Trying to collapse my villa? Might I remind you that it wouldn’t be just me facing a sudden housing crisis if the villa collapsed?” (Percy didn’t believe for a second that Octavian didn’t own many other properties in Rome, but she got his point. So she conceded.)

“Yes, yes,” bracing one hand against his desk, she dismissively waved with her other, “that was me, sorry not sorry about that. Because believe me, in the end, it all ties back to that problem of you withholding important -very important- information from me. So listen.”
“Listen?!,” with barley contained fury in his voice Octavian finally pushed himself up. He now towered a head over her. (Screw him and his height.) He took a step towards her. Trying and failing to intimate her. (What kind of problem did these Romans have with trying to intimidate others?)
“Perseas, you nearly destroyed a major part of Rome!!! And you want me to listen?,” he shouted.

Right then and there, Percy’s anger also returned in full force. “Yes, I want you to listen!” she shouted back.
“A wife, Octavian? You have fucking wife and not once in the last month you have considered informing me about it? Are you for real? What kind of shit is that?”
“It was inconsequential,” Octavian huffed.
“Inconsequential? That’s what you call it?” Percy hissed in disbelief. “A whole fucking wife and you consider it so inconsequential that I had to find out by running into her in the garden and her… Oh, let’s not even talk about her. She called my mother a fucking whore to my face! That’s why I nearly destroyed your precious villa, write it behind your ears!” Panting heavily, she glared at an equally furious Octavian.

Their standoff continued for a few more tense seconds -could have been minutes- with them silently glaring at one another. Then Octavian sighed heavily, dragging his right hand through his short-cropped hair.
“It was inconsequential from the very beginning, Perseas.” He repeated in a still tense, but somewhat calmer voice. “According to Roman law all and any marriages are null and void as soon as a soul mark and soulmate are on the table. I didn’t even have to hand in a divorce paper to court. Livia Drusilla will soon depart from the villa, never to return.”
By the end of his speech he had collected himself again and his voice had returned to its usually cool and distant tone. He sounded as if none of it truly mattered to him and was as he had said – inconsequential.

Percy stared at him in disbelief. Her anger somewhat toned down. “Is this really how you want to talk about it? That is -or at least was- your wife. How can you talk so coldly about someone you have spent your life with for… I don’t know how many years???” She threw her hands in the air in disbelief. “Not that she seemed particularly nice…” she trailed off, grumbling to herself.

Octavian sighed in annoyance. “Nine years.” “Nine years?” Percy repeated. “Nine years and all you say is ‘inconsequential’,” her tone was mocking.
Octavian slammed his hands on his desk. “Let me handle my matters as I see fit, it is no business of yours, Perseas.” A warning in his voice. Percy opened her mouth again… only to close it. He had a point there; it was none of her business, no matter how much she disagreed with his way of handling it.

“Fine,” she huffed. “You are right.” To her great surprise -and also to the two other women’s (that had stayed quiet, so far, and silently followed their argument with wide eyes)- Octavian huffed a little laughter.
“You? Saying I am right? I never thought I would see the day.” he snorted.
(At this point, Percy’s mouth had fallen open. Was her grumpy, conceited soulmate with a stick-up-his-ass actually making a joke?)

The moment didn’t last long. Octavian soon looked ready to return to business with a, “None the matter. We should…”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Percy raised one hand, interrupting him. “First I want your solemn oath that you will no longer withhold very important information -which also concerns me- from me.” Octavian threw her a murderous look.
(The younger, blond woman hid a giggling behind her hand.)
He gritted his teeth. “Fine, only as long as you promise not to destroy my city (Percy raise her eyebrow at the way he addressed Rome as ‘his’ but said nothing) in your little fits of anger. – And” he continued, “you will attend daily lesson with the Latin teacher I arranged for you. I will not have my soulmate embarrassing me by being unable to speak a word Latin.”

Percy rolled her eyes. “Fine, it’s a deal.” (Octavian looked surprised at how quickly she agreed – well, none of the things he demanded were outside of her own interest, so really, what would she have to argue against?)
She stretched out her hand for him to shake. He took it and his warm hand slipped into hers. She ignored her fluttering heart (screw this soulmate thing for making him appealing to her) and shock it.
(Annabeth would be proud of how adultly she had managed to resolve this conflict.)
Then she stepped back, cleared her throat and crossed her arms before her chest as she became increasingly aware of the audience they had had during their little spat.

Octavian also looked ready to bang his head against the wall, as soon as he realized that they had been watched during the entirety of their spat – it stood quite in contrast with his usual demeanor.
(Seconds later Percy would realize that it was probably even more uncomfortable for him because of who the two women watching them were to him.)
Octavian stood straight again, utterly composed. As if the little red flush on his cheeks, just now, had never been there in the first place.
“Mother, sister,” his cool voice rang through the office, “let me introduce you to my soulmate, Perseas, daughter of Neptune.”

Percy’s jaw dropped. ‘Mother? Sister?’ Then the shame hit. ‘Oh gods, what kind of first impression did I just make on my in-laws?’ she inwardly despaired.
“Perseas,” Octavian continued, he nodded towards the two women, “this is my mother, Atia of the Julii (the imposing woman with red hair) and my sister, Octavia of the Julii (the pretty blonde with the goblet of wine.)”

While Percy was still busy gaping, Atia straightened up. With an appraising gaze that might have made Kronos cower, she looked at Percy. From top to bottom and up again. “This creature, you say,” her lofty voice rang through the office (Percy suddenly understood where Octavian must have gotten it from), “is your soulmate and a daughter of Neptune, of all things. A real-life demigoddess, yes?”
She sniffed: “She doesn’t look like much.” Atia then turned toward Octavian – Percy softly breathed out in relief (Octavia threw her a sympathetic glance. She must have been at the receiving end of Atia of the Julii’s disapproving looks more than once in her life.): “But she certainly knows how to dress you down. If nothing else that, at least, makes her easier to tolerate and less pretentious than this vain creature Livia, you just had to insist on marrying.”

“Uh, thanks?” Percy awkwardly replied. Ignoring her completely, Atia continued. “But really, Octavian. Did it ever occur to you how it might look that you informed us, your only family, only today about this new -at this point she dismissively gestured into Percy’s direction- development? Really, the neighbors were talking about it, before I knew. Do you want to tell me that you didn’t consider that your soldiers might gossip? How could you? You embarrassed us for all of Rome to...”

Octavian interrupted. “Enough of this mother. I informed you as soon as I saw fit. And the only business of mine you need to concern yourself with is which I see fit to you inform you of.” He paused. “And only when I inform you of it. So ignore your neighbors and whatever gossip might say.”
Percy thought he could have formulated that a bit politer, but then again Atia did give the impression of being a woman that stuck her nose into things that were none of her business. So she could see that Octavian might -over time- have gotten fed up by her behavior.
“And as I am the master of this household and you and Octavia are in my care you are to obey my every word.”
(Alright- and out of the window went whatever sympathy Percy had shortly felt towards him.)

Octavia scoffed. Octavian’s head snapped towards her. “Do you have something to add, sister mine?” His cold voice a warning in itself.
“No, nothing to add, brother.” Octavia’s purposefully even voice sounded through the room with false calm and submissiveness. She took another sip from her wine. (Percy inwardly cheered for her.)
Octavian examined both now silent women for a second longer -Percy just watching with raised eyebrows from the sides- before nodding. “I am glad we all have an understanding.” (‘Yeah, and what an understanding that it,’ Percy sarcastically thought to herself.)

“Now to the other reason I called upon you and Octavia today, mother. The triumphal procession to celebrate the liberation of Rome from the Egyptian seductress and the successful restoration of the Republic, -” This time it was Percy that couldn’t stifle the snort. (Successful restoration of the Republic, yeah sure.)
Octavian threw her a short, sharp look, but unlike Atia and Octavia he didn’t bother reprimanding her – Percy found it suspicious that he didn’t even try but also saw absolutely no reason to complain about it.

“Both you shall be present,” he turned back to Atia and Octavia, “we shall present a united front. Now that propriety and decorum, instead of the immorality, excess and lecherousness of the last few decades, shall finally return Rome, it is more critical than ever that you, the women of my family, embody these virtues to the public. I expect you to be at your very best behavior.” When he received no form of protest from either woman he turned to Percy.
“And you Perseas, I also have something to ask of.” He addressed her with a tempered voice. “Under normal circumstance, it would be my wife that would preside over the celebrations with me. But as the latest events have left me without a wife, I am facing a bit of a dilemma. I would ask you, as my soulmate, to be there with me instead.”

Percy titled her head to the side. “You want me, someone that speaks hardly a word Latin, at your side in public? Didn’t you accuse me of being a barbarian just a few weeks ago?”
“A misstep on my part.” Octavian smoothly replied.
Percy snorted, “Tell me, Octavian, is that an apology?”
His expression didn’t change at all. “If that is what you want to interpret it as.” he offered in return.
Percy considered for a few more seconds, before answering:
“I would rather not. Currently, I don’t know the next thing about Roman society. (Well that was kind of a lie. She did know some stuff about Roman society from her time in New Rome. But then again, no matter how determinded New Rome was to imitate ancient Roman society, they were still unable to replicate it 100%. A lot of stuff in New Rome was much different from the era she had travelled to. Slavery, for instance.) Aren’t you the one always concerned with me embarrassing you? Just tell whoever asks that -oh I don’t know- I have come down with a fever or something like that. Besides, I have really no interest in being the newest amusement for Rome’s people to gawk at.”

To her great surprise Octavian accepted her words. (He most likely was really concerned about her embarrassing him. Why then had her in the first place? She didn’t know.)
“Very well,” he nodded,” but don’t think you think you will be able to drag out your introduction to Roman society for much longer.”
Percy rolled her eyes at that. “Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled.

Octavian then turned back to his silently watching mother and sister. (Though, truth be told, both ladies looked like they had a lot of things to say and were simply compelled to hold back at the moment. - Probably because the biggest twat in all of Rome was currently in the room and being all grouchy.)
“Mother, Octavia. Since you are both here already, I would like to invite you to take your lunch with us.” They agreed easily.
Before leaving the room Octavian tried to offer his arm to Percy - like an old English gentlemen.
Percy stared at him and his arm for three seconds before blurting out bluntly, “Thanks, I’m sure you are trying to be nice or whatever, but I can walk on my own.”

For a second, a short flash of annoyance was visible on Octavian’s face before he graciously nodded. (Seriously, by now his supposed niceness was more than just freaking her out.)
He thus strode ahead of them towards the doors. There he glanced at his two disgraced Praetorian guards that had by now managed to get to their feet. They were swaying. Badly.
“Get those two to the Medicus. I will deal with them later,” he ordered a nearby servant that quickly bowed and hurried to execute Octavian’s order.
(By now, Percy’s four attendants had rushed to her side. Trailing a few steps behind her.)

Octavian had already set in motion again and was walking down the corridor towards the dining room. Percy, his mother and sister followed after him.
While walking he shortly looked over his shoulder at Percy: “We should hurry, there is someone I would like you to meet at dinner, Perseas.”
His steady gaze remained on her person a moment longer. “After all, I just swore a solemn oath that I would no longer withhold important information from you. I intend to start making good on it right now.”

Chapter 9: “Percy finds out she is a mom & duels a Lar called Perticus”

Notes:

No idea where this monster of a chapter came from, but it is here now. (It took me literal hours to proofread this thing.)
So please rejoice, read and comment! ;)

(Also, I noticed that I wrote plural “Lares” in the last chapter, even though I meant to write singular “Lar”.
I am very sorry about that; I already corrected it. I literally didn’t realize my mistake until I started looked for the plural form…)

Following Octavian warily through the hallways of the villa Percy was surprised that they didn’t move towards the triclinium (the official dining room), but towards the atrium (the place she had only narrowly evaded the Lar (household spirit) in just hours before).
Once she had asked, Octavian explained - very patiently, he can apparently do that- that the triclinium was only for official occasions such hosting other noble families for dinner and that the immediate family usually dined in the atrium.
Percy gulped. – Gods, she really didn’t want to run into the Lar again. She could already see it. It would end badly – for herself.

The closer they got to the atrium the antsier Percy became. She fidgeted around and went as far as to cling to Octavian’s upper arm -crushing his brownish and golden tunic and toga under her fingers- once they stood before the entrance to the atrium.
(Octavian raised a skeptical eyebrow at the for her very unusual behavior. He was obviously trying to figure out what had her so strung up.)

“Are you alright, Perseas?” He calmly asked her as she continued to cling to his upper arm.
If she weren’t as tense she would probably have died out of embarrassment for her behavior.
No way was she more scared of a Lar than of all the monsters, gods, titans, giants she had faced before.
Only – they usually didn’t have immediate accessibility to her home (because even though it did not yet feel like home, she was resigned to the fact that that was what the villa would be to her from now on) and bedroom.
(And thus the ability to frequently and continuously disrupt her sleep and chatter on and on to her about one or the other thing that had they wanted to change in the villa.

“Yep, yep…,” she muttered. Still clinging on to him she slowly peered past Octavian into the atrium. Her gaze flitted over each nook and cranny of it. There was no one and nothing unusual or supernatural there. After three more seconds Percy finally relaxed. Her whole body sacked down in relief. Her hands were still clinging to Octavian’s upper arm. She now consequently put her whole body weight on him, threatening to drag him down with her. Octavian quickly stabilized his footing to prevent just that.
Percy -noticing what she was doing - quickly let go of him. And stepped back. “Ah, sorry about that…,” she gave him an edgy half-smile.

At his continuously skeptical look she quickly surveyed the atrium again, still finding nothing out of place. Maybe lunch wouldn’t be such a disaster after all.
(She would later curse herself for probably jinxing it in this very moment.)
Straightening herself, Percy gave the three -Octavian, Atia and Octavia- a short, awkward laugh. “Well, nothing unusual there, right?” She quickly corrected herself, “No that I would have expected anything unusual, of course!” None of the three looked like they bought it.

Not being able to stand the awkwardness any longer Percy quickly cleared her throat and made to enter the atrium. Octavian and the others followed. Now that Percy had relaxed for just a fraction, she was able to discern the changes that had occurred in the open room since the last time -just a few short hours ago (maybe less? She had no idea how much time had passed.)- she had been in there.
The most notable change were the chaise lounges (the Romans usually used them for eating) that now stood next to the little pool of water in the middle of the room. And then there were of course the low tables before lounges. Overflowing with foods of all kinds. (Percy saw some vegetables, fruit, cold meats, wine (of course there was wine, it was the Romans they were talking about here) and so on. – Some servants?/ slaves? were still busy bringing in more stuff to eat.)

Also, around the little arrangement, there stood an abundance of (what were most likely) slaves a bit off the side. Percy had little idea what exactly they were supposed to do there, but she would soon find out.
Standing there, floundering (she had no idea how seating arrangement worked in ancient Rome) Percy was -for once– glad when Octavian directed her to one lounge. Out of her depth, Percy sat down on it – believe it or not this was kind of her first official eating experience in ancient Rome (New Rome still had rules but was kind of less strict about it). Since on the ship eating had been a much more informal activity and yesterday’s dinner she had taken alone in her room.
Octavian took place on the one beside her and Atia and Octavia on the ones opposite of them. Only the fifth chair lounge -to Percy’s left - was still free.

Then -once Octavian made a gesture with his hands- the slaves stepped forward. All of them with bowls of perfumed water and towel thingies in their hands. (Oh, they were supposed to wash their hands in these bowls, right?) So like the others, Percy did just that. Wash her hand and dry them off.
(While doing that she noted that person serving her looked more nervous than the other slaves (she still felt like throwing up when thinking about it) did.
Had the slave heard of her temper tantrum? Or more like felt it? Or was he just unsure because she was new? And not because rumors of her being a demigoddess had supposedly been flying around?
Percy still felt disgruntled about that being the chase.
(But then again, could she honestly have expected that the soldiers would not gossip once they had returned to Rome?)

Percy thanked the slave with a smile. He nearly dropped the bowl, before hastily bowing and walking back to his place near the wall.
(Had he understood her - speaking Greek - or was he just startled at being smiled at?)
“There is no need offer thanks to a slave,” Octavian’s cool voice interrupted her musings. Turning back to him and the others, Percy noted that they had already been served and begun to eat.

Octavian himself was currently eating some cold meat. -He ate with his fingers, as was custom for the Romans. (They didn’t possess forks, yay to that.)
Percy gifted him a sickly sweet smile.
“Well, that may be the case here in Rome, but I assure you among my people it is considered rude and impolite to not thank someone when they assisted you with something.”
She let her words linger for a bit longer in the relative quiet of the atrium before continuing, “You know, just like slavery itself is considered most barbaric and uncivilized in my country.”
(Never let it be said that Percy didn’t know to hit where it hurt.)

Octavian paused in taking a sip from his goblet of sweetened wine.
Octavia snorted in her own goblet of wine and Atia was about to open her mouth. Octavian was faster.
“Your people and customs are in the past and far away from Rome, you might do well to remember that Perseas.”
(By now Percy was considering the possibility that Octavian had developed some kind of fetish for her name as he never left out a single opportunity to use it. It gave her the shivers.)
Percy continued to smile pleasantly. “Oh, I know that very well. No worries. I get reminded of it every second of the day. No matter how much I wish for the opposite to be the case.”
(Distantly Percy noticed that she was starting to speak just like them. Fancy and old fashioned. It just reminded her of how long she had already been here.)

Atia finally (it looked like she had already been holding it far too long for her taste) managed took the floor for herself:
“I am curious though, Perseas – that was your name, wasn’t it?” (Percy nearly laughed at that purposeful flounder – as if there was any chance that Atia hadn’t already memorized her name. Octavian had said it far too often in her presence for that not be the case. Seemed like her new mother-in-law (please note the sarcasm here) was out to make her life more difficult on purpose.)

Still, Percy went along with it. She nodded in confirmation and Atia continued in her lofty voice.
“Octavian dearest told us; you were from a place called ‘America’ (she totally butchered the pronunciation). I must admit I have never heard of it before. Now where may that place be found? And oh, please (a sharp bite in her voice – like mother, like son it seemed), tell us a bit more about it.”
Atia leant forwards, clearly interested in hearing Percy’s answer. But it wasn’t just her. Percy noted that both Octavia and Octavian seemed to have perked up, also.
(Octavian probably because she had shown herself very elusive during their sea journey – after all she spent most of her time in the sea and deflected most of his questions regarding her origin.)

Percy took a sip of her own goblet of wine -she was 21 now (she was still depressed about not having celebrated her birthday), so she wasn’t committing any crime, ok. She was stalling.
And promptly pulled a face after the wine hit her taste buds. Grimacing, she put the goblet back down and finally looked towards Atia.
“Well, it lies in the far, far west. Very far west,” she emphasized. “But I’m afraid you wouldn’t be able to reach it. Even if you travelled for a thousand years.”
(It would take more like 2000 years.)

Atia gave her a look of disbelief. Her noble face slightly contorted, her voice aiming to dig deeper:
“A thousand years? Now that, I find hard to believe. It takes at most a month to travel from here to Egypt. Just how far away is your home supposed to be?”
Percy couldn’t suppress a genuine look of melancholy from appearing on her face.
“Too far away. So far away that I most likely will never be able to return to it.”
Her voice was empty, her gaze haunted. She stared down at the floor, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

But before anyone else could interrupt -or unsettle her even more- she continued. Purposefully lightening her countenance.
“But well, let’s move on to less sad matters.
Believe it or not, but my country also is a republic (here she threw a snide a look towards Octavian, very well aware that the only thing left of the Roman republic was the name itself. - And not in small part due to the man resting next to her.), much like you have it here in Rome.”

“A republic, truly?” Octavia now asked. “I must confess I have not heard of many other places that have implemented a republic as their form of government.”
Percy smiled at her. A genuine one. Octavia had seemed kind so far.
“Yes, we are. But as I said before, I am not surprised you have not heard of use before. The distance you know…,” she dismissively waved with her hand at this point. Trying to deflect from that part.
“We vote for our leader all four years. And you know, literally anyone that is a citizen of the state has the chance to run for the office of the president – that is what we call our leader.”
“Anyone? Truly?” Octavian interrupted her little speech. Percy raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes,” she repeated, “anyone that is a citizen of the state and was born and grew up in the country. And I have to admit,” she continued, “we had our own problems with things such as slavery and women being unable to vote in the past. But we luckily resolved all these problems some time ago.” (The – for the most part – she deliberately omitted.)

Octavia looked at her in disbelief. “Women are allowed to vote?” she asked stunned. “Oh, we can only dream of such things here in Rome.”
“Octavia.” her misogynist asshat of a soulmate interrupted in warning. Octavia rolled her eyes at him but shut her mouth.
(So far, Percy didn’t like the power dynamics in this family, she didn’t like them at all.)
Unimpressed Percy continued, “Yes, they can. You know, we have something called human rights that…”

Percy’s passionate tirade would probably have gone on for quite some more time
(under Octavian’s increasingly disapproving glare - but what did she care for his opinion on the matter) if a voice hadn’t interrupted her.
“Dominus,” an old woman standing in one of the entrances to the atrium -her silver-grey hair pulled back into a pun- called with a bow, “I brought the her. As instructed.”

Percy had exactly two seconds to wonder who “her” was.
Then -following the older woman’s gentle coaxing- a little girl stepped out of the entrance’s shadow.
She couldn’t have been older than 10. She wore a long plain white tunic with a woolen belt around her waist and leather sandals.
Around her neck hung a crescent shaped necklace on a leather strap.
Her blond hair was braided around her head and her light-green eyes wide open.
Percy noted that after the little girl’s eyes had shortly flittered over all four people lying around the table, they settled on her form especially. Their eyes locked.

As Percy got entangled into a starting match with the little girl, Octavian sat up.
He dismissed the old women -who slunk back into the shadows of the hallway- and called (ordered) the little girl to him:
“Julia, come here. There is someone I would like for you to meet.”
Julia -that was apparently her name- obediently walked towards her soulmate and stopped by his chair lounge.
Octavian cooly examined the girl for a moment before pushing the little girl into Percy’s direction.
Percy continued staring, slowly chewing on a grape. Perplexed about what was going on.

“Perseas, I would like you to meet my daughter, Julia.”
Percy chocked on the grape.
She slapped her right hand in front of her mouth to keep from very undignifiedly spewing her mouth contents all over the little girl and Octavian.
– Not that Octavian wouldn’t totally deserve it, but the newly dubbed Julia decidedly didn’t.
Percy continued chocking. Trying and failing to clear her throat.
She coughed heavily, her hand still tightened before her mouth. By now tears had started to escape her eyes.

Octavian sighed. It was a deep sigh full of exasperation and annoyance.
He reached towards the table in front of him and soon enough a goblet of wine was pressed into her hand.
Percy croaked out a “thanks” and greedily lifted it to her mouth. She took deep gulps (the taste of the drink now irrelevant to her chocking ass) until it no longer felt like there was a frog stuck in her throat.
Slamming down the goblet on the table she lifted her head towards Octavian (tears still clinging to her lashes) and croaked out: “Daughter, die you just say daughter?”
“Indeed,” Octavian confirmed, his face unchanged (the asshole).
His next few words even more shocking: “Julia, this is Perseas. Your new mother.”
Percy choked again. This time on her own spit.
Octavian continued – undeterred, “Or more accurately said, your new stepmother.”
He gave a light shrug with his shoulders. “But who care about these unnecessary details.”

Percy stared at him in disbelief.
“Me? Ever bothered to consider that I might care about these ‘unnecessary details’???” She then hissed, “is she Livia’s?”
Octavian looked at her as if she was stupid. (Fuck him, how was she supposed to know?)
“She is the daughter of my former wife Scribonia,” he finally responded. Percy threw her arms up in frustration: “Just how many wives have you had so far?”
Octavian -the ass- didn’t dignify her with an answer (later he would confess that Livia had been his third!!! spouse – Percy felt the violent urge to strangle him).
Instead he expectantly looked at his little daughter.

Contrary to Percy, Julia apparently knew what he wanted and gave Percy a little bow:
“It is a pleasure to meet you lady Perseas. I will be in your care from now on.”
Percy continued to gawk. This was all happening too fast for her taste.
(Over Julia’s head she then threw Octavian a stare that promised him both future pain and misery for throwing this onto her without warning.)
She turned her attention back on Julia.

And promptly melted. As she examined her closer, she realized something she had missed before: The little girl was nervous. Very nervous.
(An immediate feeling of compassion took hold of Percy.)
While Julia obviously did her best to keep still, her little hands still fidgeted at her side. And Percy also noticed how hard it was for her to stand straight and still.
Her wide eyes nervously tarting between Percy, her father (Octavian -the ass- had his usual cold and distant look on his face. Offering exactly 0 emotional support for the little girl) and the hallway. The one into which the old woman had disappeared into.
(Percy haphazardly guessed that the old woman was Julia’s caretaker.)

Percy suppressed her coo at the last minute. Instead, she managed to gift Julia a welcoming, warm smile.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Julia,” Percy softly greeted the girl – trying not to scare her off. “As you father -she shot Octavian a venomous look there- already told you my full praenomen is Perseas. But please call me Percy. It’s what my friends and family call me.” (The last part was very much directed towards Octavian – he never called her as such.)

After the initial introductions were completed, Octavian then directed (ordered really – it astounded Percy what a warm and caring father he was – note the sarcasm here) Julia to sit down on the empty chair lounge on Percy’s left. Julia did just that.
(While Julia walked towards the lounge Percy saw her gifting a timid smile to Octavia. She also greeted Atia (it was a very cautious greeting).
– No matter that the woman was her grandmother, at first glance there didn’t seem to be any kind of affectionate relationship between the two of them.
Percy’s heart broke for the little girl that seemed to be neither close to her father nor grandmother.
(Her relationship with Octavia, at least, appeared a bit more heartfelt.)

Percy’s wanting to coo at the little girl instinctively returned once she saw how Julia struggled to get onto the chair lounge – she was just too little.
And once she was finally on top her little feet dangled down on its sides. She timidly started staring on the ground. (Percy melted – she wasn’t usually the most maternal person out there, but Julia seemed to ignite something similar in her.)
Octavian soon rekindled conversation in the atrium, not paying his daughter any more attention.
While he was then busy talking with both Atia and Octavia (some stuff regarding his triumphal procession), Percy quietly laid on her lounge. Taking one or the other bite of food but mostly preoccupied with stealing glances at Julia. (She was still reeling from the unexpected discovery of her existence. – Her soulmate really was a work of art.)

To her surprise she noticed the little girl doing much the same thing. Stealing glances at her that is. Her, her new stepmother.
(And that was another can of worms, Percy didn’t quite feel ready to open. She was a freaking mom. – Well, more like a stepmom, but still - a mom all the same. At freaking 21 years old. Oh gods, this was going to be disaster. She didn’t know the first thing about children. Well, she had sometimes trained new demigods at camp but how could that compare to actually raising a whole child?)

When Percy saw Julia reaching a plate full of grapes -and utterly failing to reach it due to her short arms - Percy quickly took the plate and offered it to Julia.
Julia shortly froze, before shyly took for a single grape from the plate Percy was offering. Percy smiled warmly at her and Julia meekly smiled back. (Gods, the little one was shy.)

[What Percy -preoccupied with making Julia feel more comfortable with her presence- failed to notice was Octavian. Observing their interaction with keen, calculating eyes. His brain already continuing to scheme and plot.]

Their silent interactions continued over the course of the dinners.
Octavian keeping both Atia and Octavia entangled in conversation with him. – Percy really didn’t mind as this left her more time to concentrate on Julia.
At one point Percy broke the silence and asked Julia about her day.
Julia visibly lightened up and but at first was hesitant to start talking.
But as continued coaxing her and their conversation dragged on she became more and more enthusiastic and animated.
Percy for her part didn’t mind one bit that she hardly came to word except for pressing for more details and asking more questions.
(She had this nasty little feeling that the adult in Julia’s family (namely her father – yes, Percy was pointing all fingers towards Octavian in this case) hardly took the time to listen and spent time with her.)

While Julia was still busy telling her all about her literary education and which proses she had lately written and read, Percy also found herself wondering about the relationship between Livia Drusilla and the girl.
The little girl hadn’t mentioned her once. - Percy got the feeling Julia would not mourn Livia’s departure much.
Percy later asked Julia after her age. She was nine. ‘Nine,’ Percy pondered.
‘Octavian has been married to Livia for nine years also. Just how old was Julia when her parents got divorced?’

Over the course of their conversation Julia also mentioned her caretaker Veritas. (The old woman that had escorted her to the dining room.) She was, apparently, responsible for just about everything in Julia’s life.
Reading between the lines of Julia’s innocent chattering, Percy also found out that neither Livia Drusilla nor Octavian had ever shown much personal interest in Julia.
(Other than her education that included just about teaching her on how to become a proper mother and housewife. - Percy. Was. Pissed. Off. When. Hearing. That.)

Now Livia Drusilla’s disinterest she could somewhat -but not really- understand.
As “the lady of the house” Livia might have been in charge of seeing to Julia’s most basic needs, (which in Roman terms meant to ensure that she was clothed, fed, provided with other basics and proper caretakers) but she was not -and had never been- Julia’s true mother or blood relative. Just her father’s wife.

Which then brought Percy to Octavian and the ice-cold fury she currently felt towards him.
Apparently, Julia saw him mostly at mealtimes – and even then, he hardly talked to her. And her mother, Scribonia, the girl confessed, she hadn’t seen since her birth.
Which meant Julia did not know her birth mother, at all. Literally, not at all.
Julia didn’t even know what she looked like in person, since in Rome, the children automatically always were considered the property of the father.
Mothers usually had 0,00% custody.

Percy was fuming.
The water in the little pool in the middle of the atrium started churning.
(Yes, Percy knew that she had lost her temper quite often since she had arrived in this time. But, apparently, the Romans just had a talent for infuriating her – Her twat of a soulmate, obviously, holding place number 1, so far.)
Percy was just getting ready to jump up, drag Octavian -who was till conversing with his mother and sister- into the next room and scream his ears off, when suddenly a loud, obnoxious interrupted her quiet fuming.

“Aha, I knew I wasn’t just imagining it! So there has been a new divine presence in the villa since last evening!
Young lady, don’t you know it is beyond rude to not introduce yourself to your hosts -or in this case the Lar- of the house?”

Percy abruptly froze on her chair lounge.
Her head ducked, her body flat on the lounge, not moving a single muscle.
She instinctively forgot her anger and started praying. Praying very, very hard -to which god exactly she didn’t know- for the Lar to not notice her. For her to become invisible. She -as was always the chase- had no such luck.
Because suddenly there was a translucent, portly, elderly man dressed in plain tunic hovering next to her head.
“Young lady, don’t tell me you are as rude as to ignore me. I was able to smell your divine blood from the other side of the estate. The hiding is over.”

He unwaveringly blathered on:
“Oh, you will not believe how ecstatic I am that there will now be someone in the house I am able to directly communicate with.
Oh, how much easier this will make my work!
You have no idea how jealous my fellow Lares will be that I, of all Lares, will have a mortal that will help me communicate my woes directly to the dominus of the house. Oh, all the urgent improvements in this household I will finally be able to make!”
Percy was still praying for him to not notice her.
- For the Lar to just ignore her and float off to some other part of the villa.

But no such luck.
“Young lady!” the Lar spluttered. “I am talking to you! Now you might be Neptune’s spawn -really the fishy smell (Percy felt quite offended by that description – she did not smell fishy) makes it quite hard to mistake your parentage for anything else- but don’t you think I will tolerate such disrespect!”
“Lady Perseas?” Julia timidly interrupted Percy’s frantic praying.
She had obviously noticed that Percy was no longer paying attention to her the way she had before.

Percy smiled awkwardly.
(She noticed that Octavian, Atia and Octavia had also interrupted their talk. Now paying attention to her and her unusual -well, more unusual than usual at least- behavior.)
‘Just pretend everything is fine and he will go away. Just pretend everything is normal, Percy and maybe he will go away,’ she inwardly told herself.
“I’m sorry Julia, I was just a little lost in thought. Please go on.”
She tried to give the little girl as kind a smile as possible. The little sweetheart deserved nothing less.

Julia eyed her skeptically but then opened her mouth to continue.
At the same time the outraged voice of the Lar rang through the atrium – tragically, unheard to anyone in the room, but Percy of course.
“I will not stand for this young lady! I will not be ignored like some long-forgotten spirit!” (Well, he kind of was exactly that, but Percy would certainly not be the one to tell him so.)

And so, the plates started flying.
First, it was the already half-empty silver plate covered in cold meats. As if by magic it suddenly lifted and flew straight towards Percy – at full speed.
Thanks to her demigoddess reflexes Percy was able to roll of the chair lounge and onto the floor before the plate could hit her body. It flew straight over her head against the wall.
Right next to the slave that had helped her out with washing her hands.
He jumped back - terrified.
Next thing Percy new, the room had descended into panic.
(Octavia had fallen off her lounge in shock and Atia and Octavian had quickly jumped up.)
The attendants in the room were already seeking shelter as four members of the Praetorian guard stormed in the atrium.
They had been altered by all the noise – ready to defend the consul (Octavian) with their life.

They needn’t have worried.
After all, it was only Percy, the enraged Lar threw at plate after plate.
(Not that they were able to see him and as such would have been quite useless in the altercation that followed, anyways.
- They only saw plates hovering in the air before being thrown into her direction.)

To Percy’s rage, one of the plates nearly hit the shell-shocked Julia.
If she hadn’t thrown herself at Julia, shielding her with her body it might have hit her on the head.
Hard. Concussion-inducing hard. - Or the impact might have caused a worse injury, even.
Percy quickly pushed the terrified little girl under the chair lounger. There she would be safe for now.

“Will you stop,” Percy roared at the Lar that was hovering in the middle of the room.
“You could have seriously hurt her. She could even have been killed! How out of your mind are you?!”
“I will not be ignored!” the furious Lares screamed back.
“I’m not ignoring you now, am I?” shouted Percy.
All the while, she continued to duck and evade the plates the Lar didn’t stop throwing at her.
(Food was flying through the air and Percy already pitied the poor soul that would later be tasked with cleaning up the whole mess.)

“Perseas, what is going on?!” Octavian’s angry voice cut through the chaos.
(He, his mother and sister stood -relatively safe- off to the other side of the room with the servants/slaves that hadn’t yet fled the atrium in panic.)

“Your fucking Lar is having a fit, what else do you think is going on?” Percy yelled back.
By now she was seriously contemplating using Riptide to -if not kill- serious hurt the Lar. Then at least, he would have to stop being a menace.
“My name is Perticus, you will address me by my name and title as is proper, young lady! And I want an apology!” the Lar howled indignant.
“Fine, fine Perticus, sorry for ignoring you!” Percy shouted back.
“It’s Lar Perticus!”
“Fine!!!” Percy seriously wanted to stick Riptide through his translucent body.
“I apologize to you, Lar Perticus. Now stop endangering the people in this room!”
In a last-ditch effort she added, “You are seriously displeasing the dominus!”

The plates abruptly stopped flying.
Percy breathed out in relief. She noticed that the Lar was now throwing anxious glances towards an angry Octavian.
“Me. Displeased the dominus you say…” he muttered to himself.
(Oh, so the Lar did care about what Octavian thought of him.
- Seriously, it seemed accurate that jackass number two would only defer to jackass number one.)
“Yes,” Percy repeated, pointing with her finger at Octavian, “the dominus is very, very displeased with your behavior right now.”
While the Lar was still fretting over her words, Percy's eyes pleaded with Octavian to play along.
(Luckily, he immediately got what she wanted and did just that. - He didn’t even have to fake his supposed displeasure, since it was very, very real.)

“I am indeed very displeased,”
Octavian hissed towards the empty space where he – probably - suspected the Lar to be.
(Not hard to guess anyways, since, for one, it was the space Percy had been yelling at and, for the other, the place where all the plates had been flying from.)
The Lar gods-honestly whimpered.
Percy gritted her teeth in annoyance. But she pressed on: “And the dominus very much now wants you to be a good Lar, Perticus, and for you to go do your duties properly. At best, on the other side of the villa.”
Percy glanced at Octavian again. Octavian, for his part, stood there regally as if he had been having the situation under control from the very beginning and wasn’t just following Percy’s lead: “Go Perticus,” he echoed her words, “I do not wish to see you in the next 24 hours.”

Perticus whimpered once more before hurrying to carry out Octavian’s orders.
All the while muttering apologies and concessions - even though Octavian obviously didn’t hear a single one of them.
He then - finally – disappeared through the wall behind him to gods-know-where in the villa. (Not that Percy cared she just wanted him far, far away.)
As soon as he had completely disappeared from Percy’s sight her shoulders sacked in relief. Then the exhaustion settled in.

“Gods, just why haven’t I been able to catch one fucking break lately?” she groaned, hiding her face in her hands.
In two steps Octavian was by her side. “How do you always manage to cause trouble, no matter where you go or what you do?” he hissed at her.
Percy was too tired to get into another fight with him. So she just settled for an exhausted and resigned: “I don’t know, it just has always been like this. It’s not as if I mean to get into trouble.”

Octavian made to answer -somewhat calmer yet still agitated- but a quiet, high-pitched whimper interrupted him.
It took 3 seconds for Percy to realize what was going on. “Good gods, Julia!” she exclaimed in horror.
In a heartbeat, Percy was on her knees next to the chair lounge she had pushed Julia under before.
Percy’s heart squeezed at the sight Julia made: The little girl was cowering at the lounge’s very back, against one of its legs; her short arms hugging herself, silent tears dripping down her cheeks.

“I am so sorry, sweetheart,” Percy apologized, “if I had known that he would lash out like this I would never have ignored him, I swear.”
But it was only after a lot of gentle coxing from Percy’s side that she finally able to persuade Julia to come out. – The little girl then promptly threw herself into Percy’s arm. Squeezing her tightly.
Kneeling on the floor, Percy held her just as tight. Regret spreading through her whole body. (This was all her fault, wasn’t it?)
When she tried to get up, Julia refused to let go. So Percy just settled for lifting her up and propping her up on her hip.
(Percy really felt she didn’t deserve Julia’s apparent trust in her, as she was -in part- the one responsible for frightening her.)

Percy then turned to Octavian. He stood there quietly - watching his soulmate carry his child in her arms.
Percy raised a questioning eyebrow at his staring.
When he said nothing, Percy offered to take Julia bathing.
“It might help her calm down,” she whispered to Octavian - daring him to oppose her. (After all warm baths had always helped Percy calm down as a child, but then again that might have had to do with who her father was…)

Octavian didn’t argue, so Percy didn’t waste any time exiting the room.
Gifting apologetic smiles to both Atia and Octavia -both of them looked shaken from their first real encounter (if you didn’t count her uncle’s short temper tantrum) with the supernatural- on her way out.
Percy really hoped that she hadn’t completely ruined her chances at an amicable with them in the last few hours. (She wanted to kick herself.)
– Was it even possible to make a worse first impression on your in-laws than the one she had managed to make today?

Out in the hallway and being led (by her terrified four attendants) towards the villa’s private baths (apparently only the richest Romans had private ones) Percy sighed, shook her head and forced herself to stop pondering over it.
(What was done, was done. There was no use in crying over spilled milk.)
She then looked down at Julia who was still clinging to her and stroked her over the head.
Right now, she had more important things to do, anyways.
Like making sure Julia would be alright.

Notes:

So if it wasn’t obvious yet: Octavian isn’t really what we would nowadays call a good father...

(And yes, I know, historically, Julia grew up to be very different from how I am currently portraying her in the story, but remember: Right now she is just a shy, little girl neglected by her family. (In the story, at least.)
– And I am not exactly being 100% accurate with anything in this story, so there is that.)

And I have been so excited to finally introduce Julia! :))

Chapter 10: “Of half-witted Praetorians, unintentionally guilt-tripping Teachers and confounding Soulmates”

Notes:

Hello there everyone!

I know I have been gone for quite a bit, but I am back now with an (extra long) new chapter! :)

Also, I just wanted to let you know that from now on I most likely won't be able to update as quickly as I did when I started this story.
(The last month has been really busy for me and I fear that won't change much in the near future!)

[Just a warning: I also describe some dyslexia in this chapter and I am quite sure I don't do the actual disorder any justice, so just be warned, I am certainly being inaccurate in my description!]

Anyways, I hope you enjoy! - (and forgive any mistakes I might have made...)

Also, thank you all so much for the lovely comments you left last chapter :))

The next day Percy was woken by a knock on her door. She groaned – deeply. Then she rolled to the side and pulled one of her pillows over her head and tried to drown out the noise. But the knocking continued. Insistently. She clenched her hands to fist and took in a deep breath through her noise.

She was absolutely incensed. (Don’t blame her, ok? She couldn’t help it - she never had been and never would be a morning person.
Anyone who somewhat knew her was aware of this one rule: Never, ever wake Perseas Jackson in the early morning or she will make sure you will live to regret it.
- Usually, she would then be aggressive and grouchy for, at least, the next five hours and make it the person-who-woke-her-up’s problem.)

Now thoroughly pissed off she opened her eyes and glared at the window on the other side of her room. Then pushed herself up. Supporting her weight on her hands she suddenly became aware of the little body still sleeping next to her.
She blinked a few times – nope, the body was still there.
She thus concluded that it wasn’t just a hallucination she was suffering from. (Not that that would have been unusual for her when she was only half awake.)

Keeping her body still, she quietly stared down at Julia’s sleeping form. (How the little girl was able to sleep through the loud and insistent knocking she had no idea.)
Staring blankly down at Julia the memories of last evening suddenly rushed back in.

To Percy’s greatest displeasure she remembered everything very clearly – even the part where is got beaten by a fucking Lar of all things and needed Octavian’s!!! of all peoples help to get out of that particularly unpleasant situation.

As her memories told her she had first left the dining room, Octavian and who the fuck knows else behind. Soon after, she had arrived in the villa’s bath.
And bathed (with) Julia. Which had been an ordeal, truth be told.
For one, it had been a fight to get Julia to let go of her. (- The frightened girl had clung to her like a baby monkey.) And Percy had only after what felt like a literal hour managed to persuade her to let go of her only to have Julia then refuse to actually move into the pool.

In the following, Percy had spent another half an hour (her nerves had been positively fried at this point) sweettalking Julia into undressing and entering the pool which she had only succeeded at once Percy had get into the pool with Julia.

(Throughout all of this Percy had done her best to ignore her four cowed attendants standing off to the side. As well as all the other slaves and people that had been in the room. – So what if they saw her naked. Ancient Romans were quite the opposite of prudish, when it came to their bodies – weren’t they? Percy would just have to suck it up and get used to it. “Fake it till you make it,“ would be her go to philosophy until she was actually comfortable with other strangers seeing her naked body. – When in Rome do as the Romans do or however that fucking saying went.)

So in summary, last night had been an absolute disaster.
By now a part of her had given up on quietly fitting into Roman society. Her plans of somewhat keeping down her head had also gone up in smoke.
(Percy decidedly refused to acknowledge the little unpleasant, niggling voice in her head that pointed out that she would have failed to blend in anyways. Even if one disaster after the other hadn’t occurred. – Her morals and beliefs were just too different from the ones Roman society held dear.)

Percy sighed. Sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes she then quickly went over the rest of the evening:
Julia had taken a bath - check, Julia got out of the bath without letting go of Percy - check, Percy too tired to care had magically tried off herself and Julia - check, gotten dressed and just taken Julia to her room, where both of them soon passed out on her bed – also check.

Yes, that had been about it.
And now here they were. The next dawn had arrived, and some people were being absolute assholes by knocking on her room’s door during this ungodly hour. Percy stared down at Julia’s dozing form once more, before decidedly throwing off her blanket (taking care that it didn’t land on Julia) and jumping on her feet, making her way towards the door.
Her stance aggressive – if they were looking for a fight she would most definitely give them a fight.

As silently as possible she ripped open the door (she was still mindful of the sleeping Julia) and hissed a very quiet and aggressive “What?!” at the startled looking pair of Praetorian guards standing in front of her. – The audacity the two of them had to look so shocked by her appearance. THEY were the ones that had woken her this early.

When one of them made to open their mouth and say something she quickly put her index finger in front of her mouth and shushed him, baring her teeth at him while doing so.
She stepped outside of the room, forcing both guards to step back. Then quickly closed the door behind her to minimize the possibility of waking Julia up.

Percy crossed her arms on her chest. Decidedly feeling unimpressed by the Praetorians that were quickly turning red in their faces as they became aware of her state of undress.
(So Romans in these times weren’t prudish in the bathing facilities where everyone was prancing around in their birth suits, but they were very much flustered when she stood in front of them in her nightdress?
Percy shook her head in disbelief – What was it that the one French guy in that comic book series had always written: ‘They are crazy, these Romans’ or something along that line?
Percy found it to be very accurate in this instance.)

“What?” she repeated as neither of the guys said anything, glaring at them. She was still feeling grouchy and not very awake at all.
The left one finally got himself together: “Domina!” he exclaimed, his head bright red, his eyes flittering back and forth as if he didn’t dare keep his gaze for too long on her nightdress-clad form. “By orders of the dominus it will be our honor to, from now on, serve as your personal guards.”
They saluted.

Percy scoffed. She should have guessed. Really.
“Yes, of course.” She crouched. “I do so love the dominus’,” she practically spit out the last word, “tendency of so magnanimously asking me about my opinion and wishes before making decisions like this one. His consideration in such instances also makes it quite impossible to accuse him of being an overly controlling asshole. As occasions like this prove, he is much too thoughtful for it.”

She sneered. As Percy was too busy fuming over Octavian yet again trying to dictate her life, she failed to notice the increasingly uncomfortable expressions both guards wore on their faces.
(Truth be told, she was surprised that Octavian was apparently able to assign two guards of the Praetorians that were traditionally only responsible for guarding senior officers of Rome to her person.
– But then again he already was Rome’s unofficial sole ruler wasn’t he? What was there that he couldn’t theoretically do? – Except of course, openly admitting that Rome was no longer a republic.)

After sulking for a few more moments, she conceded.
“Fine. Fine. Fine!” She threw her hands up in defeat. “Then do whatever he told you to do and follow me around all day, or whatever.”
She threw them a challenging glance before continuing, “but don’t you dare expect me stint myself just to make your job of trailing me like two guard dogs easier.”

She sniffed once more, before suddenly, a considering and suspicious look appeared on her face. “Dare I ask what it was that the two of you were to be punished thus?”
Under her scrutinizing gaze they shifted uncomfortably in their place.
Then the first one made an attempt to flatter, “It is an honor to serve you, domina. It could never be a punishment.”, while, at the same time, the second one much more bluntly stated: “Yesterday, we were soundly beaten by you when guarding the consul’s office. The dominus decided we should be taught a lesson, since we shamed our order greatly by prevailing less than a minute against your martial prowess.”

The guards looked at each other in discomfort, not having expected to give different explanations simultaneously.
Percy looked at them more closely, now realizing that both of them had seemed familiar after all. So they were guard 1 and guard 2 from yesterday. Now the vague sense of déjà-vu she had gotten made much more sense.
Percy let the uncomfortable silence (on the guards’ side) in the hallway last a second longer before bursting into laughter.

Wiping tears out of her eyes, she grappled for air.
“Well,” she giggled, “I am just imagining his face when he told you that.”
She started laughing again, until she finally calmed down. “It very much seems like something that he would do. – Petty twat that he is.”
(Like always she pointedly ignored her opposites’ uncomfortable expressions while she was shittalking Octavian. – It really was starting to suck that everyone she had met so far was too afraid of Octavian to even make the slightest negative comment about him. His ego was big enough as it was.)

“Well,” Percy finished, “it seems like we are, for the foreseeable future, stuck with one another. Soo… what are your names?”
The first one then proceeded to introduce himself as Mellus Valentinus with a salute. The second one followed with a Vespasus Aelius. Percy nodded, contended to just to just roll with whatever was happening. (Experience had taught her that sometimes in life it was just better to stop trying to control everything that was happening around her and go with the flow. – Makes life much easier and less stressful.)
Then informed them that she would get dressed for the day and sardonically added that if possible, she would prefer for them not to watch her change.
Both hastily agreed, seemingly eager to not make things more awkward than they had already turned out to be.

While they remained outside of her rooms – guarding her or whatever it was they were supposed to do - Percy went inside.
Her attendants that had -as if by magic- appeared to assist her with getting ready were already inside. (Also, their continuous presence was starting to give her claustrophobia, she would have to do something about that.)
There was no way that she would stand them always being with her. Nuhu. She was a fully-grown woman. She needed her personal space. Octavian would have to accept that.

As Percy then went through her daily toiletries, hygiene – whatever of it was possible with the means available to the ancient Romans – and got dressed the newly dubbed -just because she felt like it- Laurel (Mellus Valentinus) and Hardy (Vespasus Aelius) were waiting outside, probably staring into thin air.
The truth was, Percy did feel somewhat sorry for them being assigned to her, but at the same time she couldn’t bring herself to give a fuck about their misfortune. – They were the ones to have chosen this profession, and she had bigger problems than worrying about whatever comfort or discomfort she would be causing them.

Percy decided let go of that topic for now and instead focused on the present.
The one where she was just getting finished with getting dressed and Julia, who had - after waking up - so far remained lounging on Percy’s bed, staring at her getting ready with wide eyes, was shepherded towards her own rooms by her old caretaker Vertias.
Before leaving the room Julia quickly ran towards Percy and stopped half a foot in front of her, hesitating.
Percy instinctively guessed what the little girl wanted and grouched down to her height opening her arms for a hug. Julia, in turn, squeezed her tightly before letting go and running to the waiting Veritas’ side, following her outside.

Percy there, crouching for a few more seconds, staring forlornly at the door through which Julia had just disappeared through. Only then did she get on her feet again.
It made little to no sense to her, the way Julia had instinctively clung to her from the very moment she had met her. – Well, that was somewhat a lie. Percy had some good guesses as to why Julia behaved the way she did.

1. Percy had protected her from Perticus’ wrath and now felt the little girl felt she was safe with her.
2. Julia had, as Percy had gotten the impression so far, in her short life, not been given a reliable, present parental figure.
( Well expect Veritas perhaps, but she was a slave and -as disgusting and wrong as it sounded to a person of the 21st century- as such not regarded as a full person. Julia must have figured out early on that Veritas was neither a safe nor an acceptable figure to regard as a parent.)
3. Percy had given shown her unconditional kindness and attention from the very beginning.

And meeting Percy must have aroused the hope in Julia that she would finally, finally have the chance of having a reliable, present and loving parent the way every little child secretly longed for. (It was heartbreaking, really, how starved for attention and love the little girl was that she would cling to a virtual stranger in such a way. – Well, alright. Octavian had introduced Percy as her stepmother, so Julia must have assumed Percy was fair game. Which wasn’t totally wrong.)

This in turn posed an internal dilemma for Percy. Don’t get her wrong. Julia sincerely seemed like a sweet and bright little girl that would be very easy to love.
The problem, however, was that in reality it wasn’t as easy as Percy just deciding to be Julia’s mother.

For one on a personal note, Percy had never -in all her life- felt the need to become a mother and have kids of her own. (And lucky her she grew up in the western world of the 21st century where no one could go and demand of her that she go and have some kids.)
And maybe she was the weird one for feeling that way. (Not really, she had always considered it her choice and her choice only. Fuck what everyone else thinks.)
She had after all met a number of girls -and boys also- that knew very early on in their lives that they definitely wanted to become parents one day. Some of them literally dreamt of it even.
Not Percy. Never Percy.

She had always answered any questions of that kind with a shrug of her shoulders and a “No idea, maybe one day”.
And her opinion on that hadn’t changed even after now meeting Julia. (But at the same time, she didn’t want to hurt the little girl’s feelings. – So what was she supposed to do? Just go with the flow?)

For the other, there also existed the problem of Julia’s actual living, very annoying, tantalizing parent called Octavian.
Not that he seemed to take much personal interest in Julia, but as far as Rome and the rest of the ancient world were concerned, he was the only one to have any say about her life.
And it would be scarily easy for him to separate Julia from Percy if he wished for them not to interact. – It hadn’t seemed as if he had any intention of that kind yesterday but how was she supposed to know what really was going in in that infuriating head of his?

 

Percy sighed and put that string of thoughts away also, as she tied her Roman sandals – to her great pride this time without help. (Completely ignoring the fact that it only took her about four tries for each shoe.)
Then -not losing any time- her attendants started hustling her out of her rooms, urging her down the corridor to gods’ know which part of the villa.
Laurel and Hardy seamlessly falling into step behind them as soon as they had stepped out in the corridor.

And so, it came that Percy was requested (cough*forced*coughed) into another -to her unknown- room of the villa, with the door closing behind her and Laurel and Hardy taking up their posts in front of the door. (They really took their job seriously, didn’t they?) Percy -secretly wondered what Octavian had threatened them with to make them behave so- finding herself face to face with a grey-haired, balding, elderly man with a kind and open face. He didn’t wear shoes either, marking him -as she now knew- as a slave.

He introduced himself as Eudoxus originally hailing from Greece and her new Latin teacher. (Part of Percy wanted to laugh at the hilarity of it. A fellow Greek teaching her Latin.)
And while Eudoxus soon proved himself as kind a man as her first impression of him had hinted at, it also became apparent that he was an absolute terror when it came to teaching.

No sooner had he forced her down onto a chair - it stood in the middle of the room with a desk in front of it and writing utensils (a stylus and a total of three wax tables) on top - than he started terrorizing her. For. Hours. On. End.
First he made a point of testing already existing knowledge about the Latin language. (Even though he had probably been told that she 100% incompetent.)

And herein laid the problem.
Because you see, Percy may have lied a bit about her knowledge about Latin.
But really just a little bit. In truth, it wasn’t even directly a lie, as in that she had said something that was untrue.
It had been more like… a lie by omission. – Did that one even count as a lie?
(For Percy own peace of mind, she decided no.)

Because as it was Percy had learnt just a little bit of Latin during her time in New Rome. Going as far back as to the point in time where her bitch of an aunt, also known as the queen of Olympus, had decided she had the right to steal her memory and drop her off with a crazy bunch of literal wolves that later dropped her off at Camp Jupiter.
The issue with that was, however, that after the whole debacle with the giants and Gaia (kinda) reawakening because of a bleeding nose Percy had kind of… neglected (read: avoided as much as she could) the language. As well as any language out there that wasn’t English or Greek.
(Especially while she studied at New Rome university. Not that she always managed, but she had made a real effort, ok?)

 

As in, she had done a great job of pretending Latin didn’t exist.
Because if there was one thing that she, Perseas Jackson, hated it was learning languages.
Her dyslexia and ADHS always made sure that she came out of it with an aching head, a bruised ego and foul mood.
(Spanish classes back in school for instance had always been a special kind of hell.)

And after about 4 years of decidedly evading all things to do with Latin it wasn’t even wrong for her to say that she had forgotten just about everything she had ever known about the language.
So when Percy went about life with the mindset that she didn’t understand a word Latin she couldn’t even be accused of having lied. Because in a way, it was actually the truth.

Eudoxus, however, had none of that.
Within the first 10 minutes of quizzing her he had apparently figured out that what he had been told about her nonexistent Latin skills wasn’t 100% true and latched on to it like a sucker fish to the glass wall of an aquarium.
From then on he absolutely refused to talk to her in anything but Latin, made her repeat vocabulary their tense and forms (urgh), grammar rules (double urgh) and exceptions of said rules (she was as good as dead at this point) and corrected her butchered pronunciation relentlessly until her head swirled.

He also made her write down everything she learned on wax tables after he noticed that she had difficulty with reading the stuff he wrote down.
And only a few, literal hours later (the sun was already sinking) decided that to finish off the lesson she should translate an “easy”, short text from Latin to Greek.
The worst thing about it was that he was so kind, understanding, patient and earnest while teaching her that she couldn’t bring herself to just get up and leave him standing there with his stupid Latin.
In other words: he was unintentionally guilt-dripping her into staying.

(Octavian did this on purpose. Percy just knew it. He must have chosen Eudoxus on purpose knowing that Percy was too much of a goody two-shoes to leave the genial, amicable man standing there. Left alone to face Octavian’s wrath for failing him.
Her soulmate was a monster.)

None the less, Octavian was a monster that acted very effectively and so Percy sucked it up and forced herself to sit still and concentrate for hours on end. For Eudoxus.
(Even throughout the translation of the “easy” text, that turned out to be not so easy after all.)

Much later Eudoxus examined the wiggly-written translation of the text Percy had written on one of her wax tables.
Meanwhile Percy was waiting anxiously for his assessment. When he finally nodded in satisfaction with a small smile on his face she could have kissed the floor in gratitude and joy.

Soon after Eudoxus dismissed her with genuine praise for her diligence and a reminder that he would be expecting her again tomorrow. Percy thanked him with a big smile on her face and literally ran out of the room, slamming open the doors, startling Hardy and Laurel who were still on guard dog-duty.

From there, it went to dinner -yes Octavian was actually forcing her to take every single meal with him and the rest of the family (which usually were just Julia and him)-, where even Octavian’s presence couldn’t put a damper on her good mood.
Percy could proudly say that she proceeded to give him a real fright when she hugged him tightly as soon as she spotted him and his punchable face.
So happy was she to finally have escaped Eudoxus and his lesson.

Sadly, that would be the last time for quite a few days -or rather weeks- that she would experience such great joy upon seeing him.
Octavian did, after all, possess this uncanny ability to drive her nuts like no other.
As a matter of fact, Percy found that the best way to deal with him was to avoid him altogether outside of mealtimes.
And for a while that plan worked out really well.

After all, Octavian was really busy with planning his triumphal procession, you see.
So Percy was -in part at least- free to do as she wanted for the next few weeks.
(Besides Latin classes of course. Those were kind of no-negotiable. Not that Percy had ever planned on negotiating them.)
It was, after all, in her own interest to learn Latin as fast and as well as she could.
She had zero interest in being dependent on Octavian in that way. And it would also, subsequently, give him more power over her than he already had.

Percy knew all too well that as a rule only the upper class of Rome knew how to speak Greek. If she ever went out and about (meaning: if all went bad and she had to escape Octavian and his mechanisms) into the wilds of the Roman Empire -yes that was an intentional quip towards the Romans that were always so proud about being much more "civilized" than the rest of the world- she wouldn’t even be able to communicate with its inhabitants.
Not speaking the language would, evidently, be an immense handicap out there and experience had taught Percy not to do handicaps if she could manage to avoid them.

During these peaceful weeks of avoiding Octavian, she spent much time with Vespuna, Germana, Ephira and Gamella. Getting to know them better.
With much effort from her side she finally got the girls to lower their guards for a bit.
Those had, after the whole happenstances with Percy nearily causing an earthquake and the Lar and so on, turned up sky-high.

(She was seriously proud of herself for managing that, even though she instinctively felt that they were still very much afraid of her. – It may have frustrated her, but at the same time she couldn’t blame the girls for being wary, either. She was, after all, half god and subsequently possessed considerate power. They would be foolish not to be afraid of her, truth be told.)

The four of them were now more comfortable with speaking at last somewhat freer around her after they realized that she would not only not punish them for it but also heavily approve of them doing so.
(That did as just mentioned, however, not mean that the underlying fear and that touch of awe of her had faded from their eyes.)

Now that some weeks had passed Percy wouldn’t go as far as to say that they were friends exactly -and a resigned little part of Percy was even halfway to accepting that maybe they never would be real friends. Not because they didn’t get along, but because of everything that stood between them in this time period. Social status, the power imbalance and heritage standing right there in the beginning of it all – but they were definitely friendly (they even seemed to genuinely like her) and Percy counted this a big win.

Always close by was the new silent shadow Percy had gained in Julia. (The little girl had made a habit of stalking her.)
If she weren’t so small, adorable and clumsily obvious about it would honestly have been creepy.
As it was, however, the little girl was often seen darting around the villa, whenever she wasn’t occupied with whatever womanly lesson Octavian forced her to sit through (expect literature and poetry which Percy knew she liked), looking for Percy.

One she found Percy she would usually do what Julia probably thought to be hiding behind the closest column (or wall) and peer past it to stare at Percy and whatever she was doing. Veritas usually remained a few steps behind Julia, watching her ward with an indulgent and fond smile.
Behind the column Julia would remain, ducking behind it and out of view whenever Percy would inevitably notice her and look in her direction.
This would go on until Percy called out to Julia with a purposefully gentle voice to ask her if she would like to join her.

Julia would then shyly nod and dart towards Percy to stare up in her with wide eyes full of hero worship.
Percy would always smile back but secretly feel uncomfortable under Julia’s wide-eyed admiration.
(She was -to an extent- used to it from back home, where she was an actual war hero. Having being part of two great prophesies. Both of which had set out to destroy her life only to have Percy defy them every time.
But even then, when younger campers, or the citizens of New Rome who -contrary to Julia- had had an actual reason to look at her with admiration had done so, she had felt supremely uncomfortable.)

Still, Percy had decided to leave Julia to her fantasies and imagination for now.
She would have to grow up soon enough and face the true cruelties of this world.
For now, Julia deserved to dream of being exactly like the Percy (or rather the role model) she had made up in her mind like every kid out there.

Also, Percy genuinely liked spending time with Julia, who had turned out to be an absolute treasure.
She was bright, curious, kind-hearted and sweet and Percy would never forgive Octavian for neglecting her so - as she personally suspected – just because of her sex.
(Disgusting as it was, females just didn’t have to same worth as males did in this ancient society – or any other ancient society, truth be told.)

During such instances in which Julia came looking for Percy, she often found her in the yard/ training yard of villa, where Percy had by now repeatedly succeeded in goading Valentinus and Aelius into sparring with her.
At first, the two of them had been notably hesitant to do so.
Probably fearing Octavian’s wrath. It had taken much persuading from Percy’s side to finally get them to do so.
(Actually, she had been reduced to both threatening them with bodily harm and promising them that she would personally deal with Octavian if he disapproved of what they were doing.)

Then finally, the two had conceded.
Whereas their sparring had first drawn many disbelieving stares and glances from the villa’s residences (for a great number of reasons Percy could imagine), they had -by now- become used to Percy taking up both her Pretorian guards at once.
And Octavian, who had undoubtedly immediately heard about what was happening, had to Percy’s great suspicion and satisfaction not uttered as single word about it.
( Well, never look a gift horse into the mouth, right?)

During these matches, in which Percy -sweaty and eyes bright with the joy of finally having a sword in hand again- usually beat both Valentinus' and Aelius' asses at once and yelled corrections at them, Julia was often found standing to the side, pouncing excitedly on the spot eyes wide with wonder and excitement as she intently followed the match.
(Alright, so maybe it was during these matches that Julia’s hero worship of Percy had started.
More than once had she caught Julia longingly staring at the sword in Percy’s hand herself. It gave Percy a great number of ideas, ideas Octavian would most certainly lose his mind over. But what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right?)

Then one day, Percy caught Octavian standing by a window overlooking the yard, observing her sparring against Hardy and Laurel.
Upon seeing him Percy nearly lost her footing. She caught herself last minute managing to avoid the hits of both Praetorians, but her thoughts were a rumpled mess.

Just what was Octavian doing here, watching them?
Once she had managed to end the fight by disarming both Valentinus and Aelius -they were improving really! … but also still far, far away from Percy’s sword fighting level- she looked up again only to find Octavian gone.
(Later on during dinner, neither he nor Percy mentioned the incident (or anything about how she was spending so much time with Julia lately – she took this as him not disapproving of it) and she put it behind herself. For now, content to continue avoiding him.)

But then the triumphal procession had happened,
(Not much to tell there. Percy slept till early noon that day since Latin class was cancelled and people (cough*Octavian*cough) actually let her sleep in and didn’t force her attendants to wake her. She then proceeded to spend the rest of the day eating, sparring and entertaining Julia with her water magic.)
with loud music and jubilant Romans that even over the walls of the villa she heard celebrating till late into the night.
And then, afterwards, to her horror, Octavian suddenly had something called a few hours of free time every day.

And to her greatest despair the insufferable twat apparently had decided to use that time to go and bother her with his unwanted presence whenever he could.

The first time it happened he found Percy lounging alone (well Hardy and Laurel were there in the background, but they hardly counted did they?) on a bench in the garden trying to decipher a scroll about … something (don’t blame her for still not knowing who wrote it or what it was about, even after trying for about 45 min, ok? Reading had never been her forte) that Eudoxus had given her to study and read through to practice her Latin out of class.

When he found her, she was holding the scroll away from her trying to make sense of the illegible mess that her dyslexia turned the Latin scripture into. (The letter were jumping up and down in front of her eyes.)
As she was squinting at the writing, her tongue sticking out as she was trying to concentrate, he suddenly appeared behind her, startling her with an
“Might I ask, what it is you are doing, Perseas? Because it most certainly doesn’t look like reading.”

(He spoke to her in Latin, much like every other person in the manor had done for about a week now. Percy had the sneaking suspicion that he had ordered Eudoxus to inform him as soon as her Latin had become somewhat coherent so that he could enforce a Latin-only policy around for all the people in the manor.
Even little Julia had stopped speaking to her in Greek. Octavian was – for lack of better words - forcing her to undergo a hard-core Latin crash-course for weeks on end.
She only reluctantly admitted that the results were speaking for themselves. - She had even started to dream in Latin. But usually only in her nightmare that more often than not featured Octavian as the main villain.)
Percy refused to admit that she nearly dropped the scroll. Then she scowled up at the looming figure behind her.

“Well, it may not look the part, but I am, as a matter of fact, trying to read.” She grumpily responded in broken Latin. (She might have been embarrassed every time she stumbled over the words, but she really, really wanted to get a grip on the language. For her own sake.)
“It’s just that I have what my people have taken to calling dyslexia – it basically means that the letters are jumping around before my eyes, which makes it 10 times harder for me to read than the average person.” She paused for a second. “This obviously makes learning a new language harder for me as well. And before you ask, no it’s not something that can be treated. You either have it, or you don’t.”
During her slow, fumbled explanation Octavian had remained pleasantly quiet.

Then, without a warning he, unprompted sat down right next to her. Percy immediately made to slide away from him on the bench. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. (His open(er) body-language and informal behavior stood quite in contrast to his usual controlled façade.) “Cease your dramatics, Perseas.”
Percy narrowed her eyes at him. “You are the one acting weird, don’t blame me for reacting accordingly.”

Octavian sighed exasperatedly. “If you wish for my assistance with reading this, you will have to move closer.” “Assistance?” Percy repeated in disbelief, “Are you seriously offering to help me right now?”
His stared back deadpan. “I just said as much. Shall I repeat myself so that your mind might comprehend it better?”
Percy bristled at this backhanded insult and against her better judgment proceeded to move closer to him, scroll in hand.

Octavian as it turned out was not a half bad teacher. Much like Eudoxus he actually had quite a lot of patience for her and her difficulty with reading.
At first, she unwillingly flushed in embarrassment every time she fumbled and stumbled over the words like a little child just learning to read (which was kind of an accurate description), but Octavian not once mocked her for her obvious troubles.
And as the minutes slipped by she slowly started to relax and before she knew it she had finished reading the last sentence.

A joyful smile spread over her face, and she beamed up at Octavian.
“I did it, I finally did it!” She happily exclaimed, before noticing how close the two had them had gotten while reading. She quickly distanced herself, her face burning red again.
She cleared her throat before sincerely thanking Octavian for his help -who would have thought that that day would ever arrive- before quickly darting away.
(She refused to call it running away from the awkwardness of it all, it was a tactical retreat alright?)

But Octavian’s strange behavior and apparent resolve to bother her with his unwelcomed presence didn’t stop after this incident.
Quite on the contrary. Percy soon found that she could hardly remember a day on which Octavian hadn’t imposed his company upon her.
It was quite often he silently joined her when she was spending time with Julia. (Which frequently happened to be in the garden of the villa. )
It was as if Percy blinked once and suddenly Octavian was sitting on one of the garden’s stone benches silently observing the two of them.

Julia, it seemed, also didn’t know what to make of her father’s abnormal presence in her sphere and tended to fall quiet upon spotting him. Not knowing how to react.
Percy, then, usually had to coax her back into whatever they were doing/playing to distract her from Octavian’s looming presence.

To Percy’s own surprise it took a total of 5 day for her to get fed up with his behavior. When she finally confronted him directly about what games he was playing now, he calmly reasoned that he simply wished to get to know his soulmate better now that he had the time.
Percy squinted suspiciously at him, not buying his reasoning at all, but finally conceded and dropped the topic.

(He was having ulterior motives, Percy was willing to eat a spoon whole if that wasn’t the case, but at the same time she also desired to get to know him better.
If only to get a better idea of what was going on in his plotting and scheming mind.
Not because he was soulmate and she wanted to get to know him better. Nuhu.)

Simultaneously, Percy suddenly found herself showered in (material) gifts by him over the course of the next two weeks. It was thoroughly vexing.
Percy felt that especially Gamella and Ephira were happier about all the jewels, dresses and accessories he gifted her. The total worth of all the finery she received made her head spin, once she asked.
(It was apparently enough to buy an entire separate villa. – She nearly got aneurism when hearing hat.)

Surprisingly enough, however, not even Vespuna found Octavian’s grandiose gestures out of the norm. When asked she looked at Percy strangely and slowly told her, as if explaining a child “The dominus is trying to woo you domina, as he should have done for a long time now.”

Percy snorted in disbelief when hearing that but dropped it since it was obvious that all four of her attendants were dead set on that outlandish theory. (Octavian, wooing someone. Or more specifically, wooing her, Perseas Jackson. The sun would rise in the west before that happened.)
No, no and no. Something else entirely was going on here, Percy decided.

“You are trying to lure me into a false sense of security.” She promptly threw Octavian on the head the next evening, while they were sitting on a bench in the garden enjoying the light of the sinking sun that beautifully reflected on the surface of the little pond.
Julia had long since disappeared somewhere in the shrubbery on the other side of the garden, collecting daisies.
(Percy tried not to think too hard about of the fact that to an unknowing outsider the three of them would, at this very moment, probably make the impression of an idyllic, little family.)
“And you wish to obtain my compliance and good will through material gifts,” she added.

Octavian ever so slowly turned his face towards her. His eyes -glimmering with the slightest hint of amusement- tracing her expression carefully.
“Is that the conclusion you have drawn?” he drawled.
“Well, little else makes sense.” Percy huffed. “Vespuna and the rest of the girls might have been deluded into believe you are doing just some plain old courting, but we both know your mind is far too cunning and eager to scheme to do something like this without ulterior motives.”

For a second Octavian’s lips twitched on the side, which on another person might have hardly meant anything, but for Percy, who had spent the last two weeks analyzing him as well as she could, it might as well have been a full-blown smirk.
(And wasn’t that a scary thought? Her knowing him well enough to correctly interpret his subtle facial expressions?)
He didn’t deny her accusations at all and instead suddenly changed the topic.

“Well,” he spoke, “there might be something that I would like to ask of you.”
“I would never have guessed.” Percy dryly hit back.
“You see,” Octavian continued undeterred, “your existence has been known to the broader public of Rome for quite a while now. And while I have, so far, successfully fended off any allusions made about you being introduced to society, I can only use the excuse of you needing time to settle in for so long.”

Percy turned back to staring at the unruffled pond in front of her.
“So I guess it’s finally time to throw me to the vultures?” she asked resigned.
Octavian huffed what could have been a little laugh. “I would not have described it with such dramatics, but yes, your Latin has become passable, and you continue to steadily improve. I believe it is better to get it over with now.”
Percy sighed. “Well, you are the expert. What will it be that I will have to endure?”

“Nothing exciting. A dinner party, in about a week (long enough for Percy to complete a crash-course about etiquette for noble Romans at dinner parties with Eudoxus, she knew). At the villa of a fellow senator of mine. His name is Titus Statilius Taurus.”

Percy couldn’t help smirking when hearing the the senator’s name before nodding.
“Well better to get over and done with it, right? People must have been asking a great many questions?”
She looked questioningly at Octavian. He held her gaze for a moment before nodding. “They have,” was all he said, and Percy gave him a pointed look, letting him know that she knew very well what he was doing:
Keeping information from her – and dare she say it; going as far as to purposefully isolate her from the outside world. That was after, exactly what he had been doing for the past few weeks.
(And the fucker didn’t even look apologetic about it as he met her judgemental gaze heads on.)

As it was, Percy had very quickly (after just about three days of being in the villa) figured out that Octavian was purposefully cutting her off from the outside world.
(No way, that she wouldn’t have heard something about the earthquake she had caused, or generally any other kind of gossip about her person that certainly existed out there if Octavian hadn’t meddled. – And while she had shortly made an attempt to get more information about the situation by asking the girls she had - as they only went stock still and distinctively pale in their faces - quickly dropped the topic altogether.
She knew that she would have her answers sooner or later, anyways. Patience would be the key in this case.)

So while annoyed by Octavian’s control mania she had, till now at least, been content to leave things as they were.
She had, instead, kept herself busy with familiarizing herself with her new surroundings and the time she was yeeted into from the insides of the relative safety and comfort of the villa.

Well, that was a little white lie, also. Percy had long since gotten nuts and feeling unbearably claustrophobic within the constraints of the villa and was just waiting for the right moment to escape.
And her patience had finally paid off: Her Latin was finally passable, and she was now attending a dinner party hosted by a name with the literal word “bull” as his surname.
Things would finally starting to look up for Percy after this, she just knew it deep in her bones.
(And if she would have to use a little force to get what she wanted, well that would hardly something new, right?)

But first, the dinner party (from hell) hosted by the man with the surname “bull” would be the order of the day.

Notes:

And believe it or not but "Titus Statilius Taurus” actually existed.

I was actually researching senators during that time period and cracked up when I read his name, so I just had to choose him as the party's host!

(Also just because I am curious: Can anyone guess the name of the comic book series I am mentioning?)