Important!

As some of you might have noticed, I've started editing some of my stories once again. Correcting some of the worst mistakes in this story has become my newest goal, so it might be some time until I update it once again.

I only hope that once I'm finished, 'The Travelers Future' will be better than it is now.

nariai

This is my first PJO fanfiction and I hope you will enjoy it. The characters might seem OOC; for example Nico wont be gay but bisexual (I don't have anything against homosexual people, it will just fit better with my plot). There will be other changes, which will be explained later in the story. I decided to write a SI story, because there aren't many of those for PJO. If there is anything you do not like, you are welcome to PM me. I would appreciate it if you would leave a review.

Warning!: In this story there might be some mentions of incest, sexual references or death of characters.

This story was inspired by AriesOrion and her story Princess of the Sea.

Disclaimer: I don't know why everyone in writing those because, well, this is a fanfiction website, so I obviously do not own PJO.

Summary: Death gained a whole new appeal the moment I became a daughter of Hades. Self-Insert

Edited on the 14th of September 2016

Edited on the 6th of October 2017

Chapter 1

Being Reborn

"I'm not afraid of death; I just don't want to be there when it happens."

― Woody Allen

I remembered reading a lot in my previous life. Books with different genres ranging from fantasy, romance and adventure to thriller, horror and tragedy.

My brother used to say that I had read more than the rest of our family put together.

He wasn't wrong.

There weren't many things we could do in our small town and I preferred staying inside our warm house instead of facing the harsh climate outside more often than not.

As such, I spent most of my time devouring books as it was my favorite pastime. I only allowed a handful of things to interrupt it.

Animes and fanfictions being highest on that list. My friends and their rather reckless 'adventures' weren't too far behind.

One of those adventures had a rather deadly end when it came to me.

Back then, when I was still a seventeen-years-old girl who lived in a small town in Russia, I had oftentimes made rather stupid choices. I had been a dreamer whom possessed a laughable amount of naivety.

At that time, I had been called Nadia and there had been nothing I wished for more than to escape my rather mundane life in our small community. I had wished to move into a big city, study at a University and travel around the world. Different cultures interested me, especially the Japanese one.

I should have looked more into mythology, especially the Greek and Roman one.

Though, it's not as if such knowledge could have prepared me for what was to happen to me in the future.

Nothing could have, really.

Dying and then being reborn wasn't something anyone expected, especially when it happened during a night out with some friends.

My parents often liked to complain about me having my 'rebellious phase' and behaving like a complete brat. Just like my brother, they weren't wrong.

Like any other child—And, no matter how much I had liked to deny it, back then I had indeed been a child.—I had defied my parents at the most inopportune moments. So, when one day my friends invited me to a party, I did not even stop to think about how much of a bad idea sneaking away would be.

Following the horde was the last mistake I made in my first life.

One of my friends had been a little bit of an addict. That evening she had bought some 'good stuff' from one of her friends and decided that we all just had to try it. Only my best friend and I denied. Unfortunately, she found our decision making skills lacking and chose to mix some of her dubious drug into our drinks.

There is one thing I was forced to learn very intimately that night.

Drugs and alcohol do not mix well.

I was not quite sure why I died; was it poisoning or an overdose?

The cause of my death was luckily a secret and it would hopefully stay that way. Some things were just better left unknown.

Besides, I remembered enough to forever hate that time of the year.

It was on a cold winter night that Nadia Ivanovna Dostoevskaia died. The exact date being December 11th 2013.

That day my story should have ended, but the truth was that it had just begun.

(...later, I would realize that I did not remember everything from the time after my death, but if I had to pinpoint the moment when I started to gain a semblance of self-awareness, then it would be inside...my new mother's womb...

...

...I wasn't completely there, of course...

...

...

...even my new heritage did not make this second body of mine strong enough to accommodate the mind of a teen inside an embryo or even an infant...)

There wasn't much I recognized during the time following my death, only two things stood out.

First, I wasn't alone.

Second, there was some weird shit going on with my 'body'.

(...This odd warmth certainly wasn't supposed to course through what I thought to be my body...)

I am ashamed to admit—With all that I have read about it I should have noticed the truth sooner.—that it was only at the very end that I realized what was going on.

It was only on the day of my rebirth that I finally understood what was happening.

I will spare you the gruesome details because I am sure you do not want to know them, but let me tell you, being born is one of the most traumatic experiences one can have.

On January 28th 1931 a pair of twins was born. Nico and Nora di Angelo, the children of Maria di Angelo. The younger siblings of Bianca di Angelo. And most importantly, the titles by which we would be remembered for centuries: Son and Daughter of Hades, The Twins of the Underworld.

The day I was born, unlike my twin brother, I cried a lot. I was so shocked and scared that I just couldn't stop. Maria—my new mother—tried everything to calm me down, but it didn't work. There was nothing she could have done to help me.

I had died and proceeded to be reborn into some unknown place. With my rebirth came the natural inability to see and move freely. Even my hearing was muffled. Admittedly, hearing better wouldn't have done me any good, after all, I did not speak Italian.

I believe my mother had almost worried herself to death that night. She probably thought I was sick.

After all, I did cry until I passed out.

The next time I woke up, I was laying inside a crib besides my new brother. Hid presence was surprisingly comforting and I did not mind the touch of my older sister either.

Although I always pretended to be an adult, the choice for my next course of action disproved that.

Denial could be such a wonderful thing.

My first hypothesis was that I was high from the drugs the other girl must have put into my drink.

The second one was that this was just a dream and I would wake up soon.

But that did not happen because even a few week later I was still there. And there was also the fact that everything was too detailed for it to be something measly as a dream.

After a few months had passed, I was forced to grudgingly accept that I had been reborn.

Each day spent in this new place seemed to make my situation even worse. Weird things kept on happening, a good example being the shadows always surrounding us. Sometimes, I thought that I could will them to move.

Then there were the names of my new family. Individually they meant nothing, together they were painfully familiar to me.

Nico di Angelo, Bianca di Angelo and Maria di Angelo. All names that I was familiar with.

I had read them in a book.

Percy Jackson

What were the chances of me being reborn as a demigod? As a daughter of Hades? I would like to think that they were minimal.

Thus my never ending denial continued. Accepting my rebirth was one thing, acknowledging the fact that I was now a part of a fictional world was a whole other matter.

My whole family being named after some book characters prompted my first excuse. Telling myself that these names were just popular in Italy wasn't too hard.

When I noticed that everyone looked like those characters, I just thought of the fact that all Italians had dark hair.

Those weird things my siblings or I sometimes did. Oh, I was just being paranoid.

And so I continued living. Weeks went by and nothing changed. Being a baby was one of the most humiliating things ever. Luckily, my mother took personally care of us or I would have been embarrassed even more. Imagine some stranger constantly seeing you naked or cleaning you after you did your business.

Lovely.

In those weeks I spent with my new family, I also learned to love them.

My mother, Maria, was such a sweet thing. She was the best mother one could ask for. Caring, nice and in possession of much more compassion and understanding than I would ever have.

Then there was my older sister, Bianca. She was almost two years older than us. I did not know what was considered to be normal for children her age, but she seemed to be quite intelligent.

And lastly there was my twin brother, Nico. He was probably the most important out of them all. Though his young age made it impossible to gauge his true character, his soothing presence still helped me through the slight depression I went through in my first few weeks in this new world.

I also noticed a few odd things as the days slowly progressed, among them that us three siblings were the most active at night. The darkness gave us comfort, but I tried to ignore that to the best of my ability.

I became quite good at ignoring things or people.

Often, when we couldn't sleep, our mother would put us into a big bed together. She secured the sides with pillows so we wouldn't fall off the bed. It was those nights that I enjoyed the most. Nico and I would lay besides each other and Bianca at one of our sides, embracing us.

After a few weeks that was the only way any of us could fall asleep.

The three of us shared some kind of bound. For example Bianca was once in our garden and hurt herself. I knew that she was hurt without seeing her, and so did Nico. We could literally feel her pain, so we cried with her. Other times Bianca would immediately know that we were hungry or needed something else. She would lead or mother into the nursery and tell her exactly—or as exactly as a not even two years old could—what was wrong.

I was aware that our connection wasn't normal, however, I once again I chose to disregard it.

And so the days continued with our mother taking care of us and us siblings spending almost all the time together. I believed that only strengthened our bound.

There were only a few things that I disliked about that time. One of them being the inability to take care of myself. The other was the language barrier. In my previous life I never learned Italian, but I grasped everything pretty fast.

It most likely had something to do with my infant brain. Learning a new language should not have been so easy, nor should the most mundane games been as interesting as I now found them to be.

A blessing from the gods.

(...the irony was laughable...)

We lived in Venice, Italy. It was the time before World War II and I feared for my family. Migrating into the USA was one of my goals nowadays.

Not something easily done, but mayhap not as unattainable as some might believe. Maria di Angelo, despite her status as a single mother to three bastard children, had a lot of money. She wasn't buying new things every day and our house wasn't the biggest either, but she was a woman in the early 1930s with three children out of wedlock and a obviously stable if dubious income.

Our little family should not have been this well off.

I always had to stop these thoughts because they could lead to questions about my new father. Facing that burning house wasn't something I was ready to do just yet.

And so the weeks changed into months. It was quite boring and repetitive until everything changed when Nico and I were five months old.

When one of the most life changing events of my existence happened, it was still dark outside, but morning wasn't too far away anymore. By that time our mother had already given up on trying to separate us for sleep. We were laying on the big bed in our favorite position.

Even I was asleep.

And yet, something was there, urging me to wake up.

And so I did.

My siblings must have felt a similar sensation because they followed not far behind.

Above us stood a man. He seemed to be in his early twenties. Dark hair and eyes matched perfectly and his pale skin only made them more striking.

I had never seen someone so handsome before.

There was something otherworldly about him. The man did not seem, no, could not be human. The moment he entered the room the air became thicker, his aura filling the whole area.

Powerful wasn't the proper word to describe him.

The shadows also behaved weirdly. They clung to him even more then they did to us. I should have been afraid that very moment. The man wasn't human, I was sure of that. It was something that even I could not deny.

At his side, I felt safer than ever before. His power seemed to embrace us, protecting us like a shield.

I felt warm, giddy and so very happy.

For the first time in this new life—No, ever.—I felt whole. With my siblings and that man in the room I felt as if I needed nothing more in life.

" Papa?" It was Bianca who broke the silence. She looked uncertain, as if she was seeing a ghost.

The man's lips curved slightly and his eyes seemed to soften. He reached out with both of his hands and picked the small girl up.

"Daughter." His voice was deep and strong, yet there was also a lot of affection entailed in this one word.

Only a few seconds later I finally registered their words.

Papa? Daughter?

That couldn't be.

And yet, I could not bring myself to panic as I watched the man kiss Bianca's forehead. Then he placed her on the bed and his eyes fell upon Nico and me.

They softened a little more. "Twins. I have been blessed with twins."

By the time he finished his sentence I was already sitting up. Even though it tired my young body, I managed to do it in record time. I couldn't stop myself from reaching out to him with my small arms.

The curve of his lips got slightly wider as he picked me up. In his arms I instantly cooed at him and touched his face with my small hands.

"Nora, my youngest." He whispered, almost breathlessly.

A small whimper interrupted our moment and as we both looked down we saw Nico copying my action. He was sitting on the bed and reaching out to us with his small arms. The man adjusted hid hold on me and picked him up.

He looked at my brother, with love in his eyes. "Nico, my son."

Kissing our foreheads, the stranger sat down besides Bianca. "I am Hades, little ones, and I am your father."

The world seemed to stop moving for a moment, then it continued spinning thrice as fast.

I knew what I had to do to save my family and to save myself. I would not let our father abandon us. This may have sounded naive, but what other choice did I have? Not only were we three demigods living together in close proximity, no, we were three demigod children of Hades, one of the Big Three. Our little entourage would attract monsters like honey attracted bees.

We could not afford to lose our father, no matter what. He was our best chance at survival. Besides I could already feel a kindling of love for him starting to burn inside of me. A life without him was not an option.

However, for now the nightmarish future I had once read about held no meaning because we were all together. Hades—No, our father.—was laying in the middle of the bed. Bianca and Nico snuggled into each of his sides and me on top of him.

I tried to stay awake, to force myself to spend as much time as I could with this man whom I had met that day for the first time, yet felt as if I had known him for my whole both lives.

Despite my resistance, sleep soon embraced me.

It was in the early morning hours that our father started to move, ready to leave. None of us wanted that. Our small fist grabbed his clothing with all the strength that we had.

No, he couldn't leave us.

Hades' reassurance allowed us to relax. "Do not worry. I'll come back soon, little ones. "

And come back he did. It was two days later that he came. Once again our mother did not see him. He might have actually done it on purpose.

This conclusion should have angered me more than it did, but the relief of seeing him again was too big for me to even care about 'small' details like that.

In the days leading to it we were all a little antsy. I trusted my father, even without knowing him, but I still feared being abandoned by this God.

When he came that night we practically threw ourselves at him. Then we laid down in my new favorite position and he told us tales about his life and Greece.

I wouldn't let anyone shatter this.