Blood of Olympus

XIV-- Frank

Disclaimer: Don’t own PJO or HOO. . . Rick Riordan does. . .

Hi, guys!

I have EXACTLY two hours to write this chapter before I am whisked off to another musical rehearsal, when I usually take 4-5 hours to write ONE chapter—yes, I invest much of my life into writing. . . :)

So, the clock is ticking—READY, SETTY, GOOO!

This chapter is dedicated to MelLuvsYou! This is another one in my long line of late dedications—HOPE YOU LIKE IT! <3

This chappie’s shout-out goes toooo. . .

Glazerzzz!

Thanks for reading and commenting! :)))

Okay, let’s get this going, shall we?

Read, comment, vote and FOLLOW! <3

XIV—Frank

Frank had always been intimidated by Reyna.

Actually, no—scratch that—Frank had always been scared of Reyna.

So he was pretty relieved that it was Octavian, and not him, that was the one on the receiving end of Reyna’s most smouldering glare yet.

Frank was surprised that the augur hadn’t been incinerated into a pile of ashes by now, because looking at the murderous expression that was on Reyna’s face was like staring into a fiery, red-hot inferno.

“Octavian!” she snapped.

The legacy of Apollo jumped in his saddle.

“My orders were to withhold attack until I return.”

Octavian was quick with his contemptuous retort.

“Your orders became invalid the second you set off on your death quest to the ancient lands. You have broken one of our oldest laws, and you are no longer praetor. It has been decided by the legion as a whole—majority rules.”

Reyna didn’t seem shocked, instead, she took the news with her usual air of indifference and coldness—she swept the clustered Romans with an impassive gaze.

“Romans, stand down!” she ordered.

“Romans, don’t move!” Octavian fired back.

After a moment of hesitation in which the soldiers looked between the daughter of Bellona and Octavian, who shot the legion with a withering narrowing of his eyes, the Romans stood still.

They didn’t move.

They didn’t listen to Reyna’s orders.

Octavian flashed her his signature smug smirk.

She shook her head ever so imperceptibly, in utter disgust.

“I may have lost my praetorship, but my fool’s quest was successful--”

Murmurs bubbled up from the Greeks, while the Romans stayed quiet, but eyed each other with skeptical browraises, and uncertain glances.

Frank, himself, was in awe—Reyna had actually done it. . .

Then he remembered something else—

“—although one of us didn’t make it to Camp Half-Blood as planned--”

Frank took in a sharp breath, ‘Nico. . .’

“--I have brought the Athena Parthenos with me.”