ᴾʰᵒᵇᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ [ᴶᵃˢᵒⁿ ᴳʳᵃᶜᵉ]

iv.

Jason gave the dark-haired boy an impressed smile, "No wonder they made you praetor."

"Percy just has to be famous wherever he goes," Aza teased, grinning when the boy scowled at her. From across the table, Octavian looked up from his plate and bitterly muttered, "Which means we now have three praetors. The rules clearly state we can only have two."

"On the bright side, both Jason and I outrank you, Octavian. So we can both tell you to shut up." Aza couldn't cover her laugh, and beside her, Jason reached around the two girls to give Percy a fist-bump. Reyna cleared her throat, and the daughter of Phobos immediately realized she was the one who was really in charge. "We'll have to figure out the extra praetor problem later. Right now we have more serious issues to deal with."

"I'll step aside for Jason," Percy shrugged, his bottom lip sticking out slightly as he turned to face the blonde, "It's no biggie. So you're Thalia's brother, huh? Wow - you guys look nothing alike."

"Yeah, I noticed," Jason rolled his cerulean eyes and Aza had to stifle a chuckle, "Anyway, thanks for helping my camp while I was gone. You did an awesome job."

My camp? Aza bit her lip, a heavy feeling settling in her gut - she forgot, quite often, that she and Jason were from two different words. Too often, she found herself thinking he was a son of Zeus, and that he belonged at Camp Half-Blood. What if they had to pick sides? Aza would side with her Camp in a heartbeat, and she had a feeling Jason would do the same.

Annabeth cleared her throat importantly, and Aza shook her head as if to clear her thoughts, straightening her back when she saw the dark storm in her best friend's eyes, "We should talk about the Great Prophecy. It sounds like the Romans are aware of it too?"

Reyna nodded, "We call it the Prophecy of Eight. Octavian, you have it committed to memory?"

"Of course," Octavian sneered in the girl's direction, rolling his eyes, "But, Reyna-"

The dark-haired praetor left no room for argument, "Recite it. In English, not Latin."

Octavian sighed but complied none-the-less, and in a nasally, dry voice recited, "Eight half-bloods shall answer the call. To storm or fire the world must fall-"

"An oath to keep with a final breath," Annabeth finished, "And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death." Aza didn't know why the blonde blurted the rest of the prophecy, but she frowned when the Romans regarded her with a curious glance. The boy with the buzz cut, Frank, leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, raising a brow, "Is it true you're a child of Min - I mean, Athena?"

"Yes? Why is it such a surprise?" Aza had to agree - honestly, she was used to people questioning her parentage, not questioning her blonde-haired best friend. Octavian scoffed, "If you're truly a child of the wisdom goddess-"

"Enough," Reyna's coffee black eyes burned into Octavian's cloudy blue ones, and the boy suddenly looked like a kicked puppy, "Annabeth is what she says. She's here in peace. Besides, Percy has spoken highly of you," Reyna's eyes moved to meet Aza's, "both of you. You are the daughter of Timor - Phobos, I mean, correct?"

Aza nodded, "The only child."

Reyna's eyes sparkled, "I have never met a child of Timor, nor has anyone still living in New Rome - though I have heard stories of their... power." Aza couldn't tell if the praetor meant that in a good way or a bad way.

"Don't get Aza talking," Jason rolled his eyes and he pinched the girl's bicep playfully, causing Aza to glare at him, before her eyes settled back on Reyna, who watched the interaction with cautious eyes, "If her head gets any bigger, her body will collapse."