Disclaimers:

This is an AU about demigods who lived long before the PJO series takes place, if that's not your thing, I get it. We get some actual characters from canon in the third chapter, but this is primarily OC driven.

The Life of an Aristocrat

Helena Williams resembled her father in most key ways. Her pale complexion, her dark greasy hair, her tendency to use her hands when she spoke. Everyone told the young socialite so. None were wrong, per se, but the man that they compared her to was not her father.

Her mother had breathed a sigh of relief that no one thought anything other than that Henry Williams was in fact Helena's father - after all, why should they think otherwise when they'd been given no other reason to? Only three people in the world knew the truth-Helena, her step-father, and her mother, Mary. At least, only three important people. There was an entire camp and pantheon who could also say otherwise, but nothing they said could shake the Williams family out of their power and prestige in the East Egg.[1] Their manor was symbolic of their old money. One look at it and it was clear they were not to be trifled with.

So it didn't matter that Helena's father was the Lord of the Underworld, Hades himself. She kept her powers away from that half of her life, and despite her heritage, was widely regarded as one of the luckiest demigods to have ever lived, up until the day she died. Her life was as uneventful as could be for twenty-four years until the summer of 1908.

It was on one hot and stuffy Tuesday in the middle of a New York July that Helena found herself in the backseat of her family's Model T Ford,[2] overtaking the horse carriages that still dominated the streets. She was returning to the East Egg after a visit to camp. Officially, Helena had been visiting her mother's sister, which sounded much better to society than the truth.

Nothing of note had happened in the last week, the last month even, besides another proposal. Henry was very particular though-he wanted her to marry someone that was equal in standing to her. There wasn't much she could do to marry better - there were few men who were. He was willing, however, to take her opinion on the man into consideration. Neither of the stipulations had been met. The proposal had been rejected.

So Helena once again found herself dressing for another dinner party where she might meet her future husband. She figured she'd know him when she saw him, and so far, she hadn't seen him.

The dress she has chosen to wear to the dinner was made of light and airy pink chiffon. The Edwardian fashion of England, despite going out of style, was something Helena dearly loved,[3] so she wore the long trumpet skirts and extravagant hats with pride, even as they were snidely insulted.

"Helena!" her father said to her, as she made her appearance, from her quarters. "Are you ready for the dinner?"

"Of course. I'm sure the Buchanan's[4] will have something worth discussing."

They shared a laugh. The art of insulting through a compliment was one of their dearly loved pastimes, and unlike most families, father and daughter had a close bond.

"Be nice to young Buchanan of course." Henry warned as they exited the manor. "He might be worth something later."

Helena rolled her eyes. "Thomas Buchanan? I think not. Wasn't he running after that southern belle? What was her name, Rose? Lily?"[7]

"Daffodil, I think." he answered as they got into the car. "But yes, and Buchanan senior went through a lot of trouble to hush it up, so be considerate and leave that one alone. There's already enough material for two weeks of dinners and dances. Let them think everyone has forgotten."

She shrugged. "You know best."

The pair got back into the Model T. Mary Williams had deigned not to attend because of a headache. It was a short trip to the Buchanan's. About halfway there, however, they made an unexpected stop.

Helena had been appreciating the view when it was interrupted by the sight of a wild harpy and a young boy that it was attacking.

"Stop the car. I need to help a cousin." she muttered to her father. It was a code the two had to indicate she had demigod business to take care of.

"Stop the car!" he told the driver. The man dutifully pulled over, and Helena quickly exited the Ford, disappearing in its shadow over to where she had spied the monster and the child. Before the harpy realized what had happened, she pulled her hairpin[5] out, and it transformed into a dagger in her hand which was quickly stabbed into the bird-woman.

Helena brushed the monster dust from dress. "Hello."

The boy stood open-mouthed at the well dressed woman who had appeared from nowhere and used an accessory to kill the beast that had been harrying him.

She raised an eyebrow. "What's your name?"

"G-George Myrtle, miss."

"Who are your parents, George?"

"My-my mother's name is Rose Myrtle."

"And your father?"

"I don't know him, miss."

She clucked her tongue. "I thought not." She surveyed the child. He was maybe ten, with golden hair and a sun kissed complexion. His bright blue eyes shone with fear as he kept an eye on the knife in her hand. "Do you enjoy music, George? Or healing? Art?"

"I….I like music."

"Do you play?"

"I've never had the chance, miss."

"Is your mother nearby?"

"She's dead, miss."

"I'm very sorry, George. I know a place you'll be safe, though. Where you can play music, and meet other children. Somewhere I go often. I can't take you there right now, but if you go in…." she squinted at the sun, gauging where she was. "That direction." she pointed. "You'll eventually come across a large red farmhouse with strawberry fields. Tell a man named Chiron that Helena sent you."

"I….alright, miss."

"Actually, that might not be a good idea. Take this, in case another monster tries to get you first." she said, handing the boy her dagger. Give that to Chiron as well, and I'll get it next time I return. If you remember, you can also tell him that I suspect Cabin 7[6] for you."

"Walk in that direction until I find a red farmhouse, tell Chiron that you, Helena, sent me, give him this knife, and tell him you suspect Cabin 7. I...I don't understand."

"Chiron will know what to tell you, George. I really need to go now. Stay safe."

Helena bent down and picked a wild daisy that was growing before stepping into George's shadow and reappearing next to the car.

"Thank you for stopping so I could pick this flower, it's just beautiful!" She said, mostly for the driver to hear. She wasn't in the mood to use the Mist, and it seemed to suffice. He restarted the car, and they continued on to the Buchanan's.

The dinner party was sufficiently dull. Buchanan senior kept making his son speak with Helena and Helena several times gave short answers or changed the subject. Soon enough, Helena managed to retreat into a separate parlor to take tea with the other ladies, and the only interruption came when a maid told her that her father was leaving. She asked if she could perhaps be taken home by one of the other ladies, which he obliged, and her friend Dotty enabled.

An hour later, Helena went to take a turn about the garden. As she was admiring the lovely blooms, she noticed in the trees a few birds with unusually shiny beaks and eyes. She got closer, trying to determine their species, when they swooped down at her. Her eyes widened in realization, before quickly closing, and throwing up her hands over her face to protect herself from the Stymphalian birds.

Helena swore colorfully under her breath. As they passed over her and turned to make another pass, she reached for her hair pin only to remember she'd given it to the boy.

"Fine." she muttered. "I guess we're doing it this way."

Just as they were about to hit her, she fell into the shadow of a hedge she was standing in, reappearing behind the flock as it shot forward, surprised by her sudden disappearance. As they swooped around, they squawked, finding her again.

As best she could, she picked up her skirts and ran toward the road, leading them away from the manor where they would be heard easier. They were on her again in no time. Instead of disappearing into another shadow, she threw up her hands and the ground in front of her shot up into a wall of obsidian and stone that several of the birds slammed into, but more than half were able to swerve to the sides and regroup. Another shove, and the wall fell forward onto them, crushing them. It left about fifty in the swarm, and they were coming for her.

She cursed another time. She was already exhausted, she hadn't had a chance to recover from using her powers. From one of her hat decorations, she pulled a square of ambrosia she hid, and swallowed it, throwing the hat aside. Just as the birds were about to hit her, she summoned a pillar of the stone that shot up underneath her. The birds swerved to either side, but she threw her hands out to her sides, and the column underneath her did the same, mimicking the crossguard of a sword. Even more birds hit that, and fell.

Helena dropped the stone, which fell down onto the birds. There were still some coming, and she was breathing hard at this point. Ambrosia or not, she was completely out of energy, and she had no weapons that could kill them but blunt force. She was breathing hard, her head was buzzing, her vision was spinning, and there was a distinctive high pitched whistle that wouldn't go away. The noise of the party was so distant, like she was swimming and it was above the water.

As the last few came for her with vengeance in their shiny eyes, Helena began backing up. She faltered as her feet hit the road, and glanced to see if anyone was coming, the movement of her head causing a swath of vertigo and nausea to wash over her. She kept retreating.

A few more steps, and she fell backwards, her legs giving out from underneath her. They dive bombed her. Time seemed to slow down as they got closer. She tried to drag any energy up from the earth, all the way from her father's realm below her. It was a feeble effort, but she felt something, some rush of clarity. For a moment, her head stopped spinning, her hearing cleared, her vision was no longer blurred. With a final effort, she channeled everything she could toward the monsters.

A sort of vortex, something she'd never seen before, opened up and swallowed the birds as they flew toward her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Helena realized that she had summoned a shadow. The thought sat idly, somewhere in the recesses of her brain, as everything settled back into the dull haze. Everything felt weaker, dimmer, slower.

Hours later, the body of Helena Williams was found in the middle of the road. Officially, she was hit by a car, and her funeral was not even open to her friends. The explanation puzzled doctors, she had no wounds to suggest that. But how could one explain that a human had quite literally stopped her heart from the overuse of shadowy magic? The young socialite's funeral pyre burned at camp, surrounded by cousins, half-siblings, and two mortals.

…

"Welcome, hero, bound for Elysium."

Two years later, a soul drank from the Lethe and was born again.

Thank you to by beta-reader colmathgames !

Footnotes:

[1] A Great Gatsby reference. Old money lives in the East Egg (while new money in West Egg)

[2] While the Model T was a car at this point, it was really only accessible in 1908 New York to upper class families, which in this case is true.

[3] If you would like lovely historical fashion, check out Bernadette Banner on YouTube

[4] Also a Great Gatbsy reference. The Buchanan's are the family Daisy married into.

[5] I would recommend image searching, 'historical hairpin' as they are much larger and are much easier to visualize transforming into a dagger, or honestly even being a weapon themselves, than a bobby pin.

[6] Helena suspects George is a son of Apollo, and to her credit, she's right. It's also worth noting that George does make it safely to camp.