Heart of a Traitor

1: Helen Armstrong

I'm named after Helen of Troy. I knew that before I knew anything else. My mom claims I was named such because of the original Helen's beauty and grace, but also because the name means "a shining light". My mom has always been convinced I'm going to do something epic with my life, that the story of Helen Lee Armstrong will be told to my great-grandchildren, that there will be actual stories written about me. She's always said it too hopefully for me to shut her down. But the truth is, I'm not special. I'm not a hero. And this isn't a fairytale.

...

I'm ten when I first meet my grandfather. His hair is wiry at the ends and there's a light in his eyes too bright for him to be completely sane, and yet something about him makes me calm anyways.

My mom makes me and my siblings—Jake, the older brother that's perfect at everything; and Lana and Lexi, the mischievous twins—come downstairs to greet him. Then she has my siblings go set the table for dinner. My mom takes a seat to me on the couch. My grandfather sits across from me. I get the feeling that they're about to tell me something.

"What do you know about Greek mythology, Helen?" My grandfather asks.

I look between them. Is this a trick question? Every summer since I've been in school, my mom makes me read a book on different Greek heroes and the conflicts they face with the gods. "It'll make you well-rounded," she always assured me. But I only do it to please her.

"More than the average person," I admit, which gets a laugh out of my mom.

"So you know of the gods and goddesses like Zeus and Aphrodite?" My grandfather presses.

I nod. "Amongst others."

"Who's your favorite?" He ponders. "Out of all the Olympians?"

I glance at my mom. Is my grandfather really here to swap opinions on the greek deities? "Artemis, I guess. If I had to choose one."

"Why her?" He wonders.

I shrug. "Because she doesn't let the world take advantage of her. Take the mortal Orion for instance. He wanted to take something from her that she saw as sacred, but she didn't let him throw her around. She sticks up for herself."

An approving smile ghosts my grandfather's face. "Interesting viewpoint, Helen."

"El," I correct automatically. "I go by El."

"Alright, El," he says. "And what of your knowledge of the greek heroes?"

"What about it?"

"Would you say it's sufficient?"

"I would say it's excellent." I don't brag about myself, but I'd been taught so much about the greek myths that I refuse to belittle myself about it for the sake of being humble.

"Favorite hero?" He wonders, then adds, "or heroine, of course."

"Theseus," I answer quickly, not having to think long.

His amused smile grows. "Why him?"

"He was brilliant," I say. "The Minotaur hadn't been killed before Theseus. It was an unstoppable monster--until him. He used his instincts and brain to help him survive the Minotaur and get out of the labyrinth."

"He used a ball of thread," my grandfather points out.

"So simple, right?" I wonder. "Then why hadn't anyone else thought of it?"

My grandfather is silent.

"Theseus was simpleminded, yes, but no one had yet to think of something like that. He was brilliant for being the first."