Blood of Olympus

XV-- Frank

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

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XV—Frank

Frank didn’t know what to make of their saviour.

There stood a woman, armed with an Imperial Gold sword and a slightly dented shield which bore a crooked carving of Medusa’s terrifying features. She wore a plumed helmet and full body armour, which was stained with blood. Her wavy black hair was slightly mussed up, as if she had just gotten into a tussle and her black eyes swirled with the contemptuous fire of a restless spirit.

Although the woman had just saved their lives, her cold glare made Frank wonder if this woman was indeed their friend or, really, their foe.

In a way that Frank couldn’t quite put his finger on, this woman vaguely reminded him of someone familiar.

Someone really familiar?

He frowned and shot a glance at Hazel, who seemed lost in her thoughts, thinking hard.

Who was this woman?

“Who are you?” Percy asked.

The woman raised an eyebrow and gave the son of Poseidon an unimpressed look from the corner of her eye.

“I am neither your friend nor your foe,” she replied, cryptically.

Frank’s frown deepened.

“If you aren’t our friend,” he questioned, warily, “then why did you save us?”

Frank swore that he had seen the slightest spark of interest light up in the woman’s indifferent stare as she turned to face him.

“Save you?” she scoffed. “From what? My gentle, harmless swans?”

With a wave of her hand, the rock wall she had raised slowly sank back into the water and the previously rabid swans came floating in gracefully and innocently—as if they had never attacked the seven demigods.

“Hold up,” Leo put up a hand. “Those monstrous things were yours? Why did they even attack us in the first place?”

“Attack?” the woman gave a sarcastic chuckle. “They were merely playing. What good are the Seven of the Prophecy going to be against Gaea and her giants if they are rendered helpless against a couple of simple-minded creatures?”

Percy looked ready to protest, but Annabeth took his hand in hers in a silent warning. The daughter of Athena then stepped forward, her stormy grey eyes narrowed ever so slightly in a critical glare, with an intensity that almost matched the strange woman’s own.