spin off of my Octavian fic where he has a little brother, you know, the one appropriately titled Little Brother, except this story is based on the events of Blood of Olympus

They didn't have a body to bury. They didn't have anything to bury. There was a memorial service, but no grave. It would be a waste of money to bury an empty casket. Octavian's mom was crying, but she'd always been a good actor. She'd never cared about Octavian, she loved her other son, but not Octavian. Alexander however was distraught. He'd never known his older brother, but he'd always wanted to. He'd been kept from Camp Jupiter, protected from how much of a freak his brother supposedly was. As if Octavian being an augur would somehow hurt him. The words they'd said about him before the service had been so bitter and angry and mean, they made Octavian out to be a monster. And though people from Camp Jupiter glared at the pictures of the blond augur, the person leading the service begrudgingly attempted to make him sound like a hero. The pictures painted of Octavian were confusing and made Alexander's head spin. He'd so longed to learn the truth about him, so longed to meet his brother and find out who he really was. Alexander was convinced that his brother was no monster, but simply a broken and abandoned teenager and Alexander, who loved helping people, had desired to be the so called monster's friend, and family. He'd been sheltered all his life from his brother's freaky power. He hated how mean his parents were when they talked about their eldest son.

"He can't be that bad!" He used to protest whenever the subject was brought up-usually by him.

"I want to go to Camp Jupiter. I want to meet him." He'd beg, at least once a month, his curiosity growing with each day. Well now he couldn't. He wouldn't never meet his brother. He would never be able to discern the truth. People seemed to hate him, but, from what Alexander had gathered, no one had ever tried to be his friend. Alexander wanted to be his friend, but he never had the chance.

The funeral made him bitter and upset at his family and at both camps. Alexander saw the truth. Octavian had been sad, Octavian had been desperate. Everything had been taken from him. Alexander didn't think it was fair Octavian had been isolated because of his ability, and he felt like he understood why Octavian had done what he'd done. He'd wanted friends, wanted respect, wanted to save his camp and be a hero. And he did what he thought would accomplish those goals. He'd be so desperate for something to go right that he'd let himself be tricked by Gaea. Octavian had been misunderstood.

A bit mad, but for the most part misunderstood.

And now he was dead.

And no one would get a chance to understand him, to reach out a hand and save him. Someone could have saved him. But no one ever did. Because he was the augur. Because he was different. Because he was bitter that his parents had abandoned him. He could have been a good guy. He could have been a hero, but instead, he was dead.