Harriet Branwell met Boreas during a horrible blizzard on a visit to Quebec. Originating from London, she was hardly used to the weather, and ended up getting stuck in traffic, cars packed in like sardines, she stayed in her vehicle, completely, utterly frustrated. Luckily, Boreas came to her aid. He gave her no alias. He simply appeared in her car and introduced himself. No lady would ever converse with someone who had made such a rude entrance, but alas, his charm was irresistible. She fell to it quickly. Boreas cleared the snow, miraculously, and persuaded Harriet to take them out. Reluctantly, she agreed, still in awe at the fact that a Greek god decided to pop in her car. She was beautiful though, Harriet herself couldn't deny that.
After the date, Harriet broke every one of her morals and had a one night stand with Boreas, even worse, he impregnated her. Did she care? Of course! Being a proper, socialite, well-mannered, and reasonable was all she was, what would she say when she got back to London? Nothing. She couldn't possibly say anything, so she stayed in Quebec, and eventually met a man months before Camille'd be born. They later married. How lucky could this woman get?
She returned to London with a wonderful husband and beautiful daughter, the perfect family, but of course, nothing gold can stay. Her mother and step father were killed in a fire, Camille was fortunate enough to be saved by one of their maids. Later, Camille's aunt, Tina, received custody of her.
She grew up as her mother would've wanted her to do. A lady. Nothing more, nothing less. Growing up, she was put through the rough life of a higher socialite. Her aunt took her to every gathering, and made sure she didn't falter in anyway, for if she did, shame would be put upon her and her aunt and uncle. Harsh realities, with such glamorous exteriors.
When she was 12, she was attacked by a Hellhound, to her fortune, her uncle was a demigod himself; a child of Hermes. He quickly defeated the Hellhound. After that incident, he made sure Camille was properly trained. A week after, she received a package from her father, a pale blue parasol, and a pair of bracelets. Her uncle revealed their true intent. Behind the glamour of accessories were weapons built to kill. The parasol's tips were razor sharp and were made of with Celestial Bronze. Its true form was a sword of icy blue color. The bracelets transformed to wind wheels. Never again would she touch a weapon. A lady would never do such a thing, no. Her uncle told her of her father's origin, what she was, and the dangers she would face.
Sadly, her uncle, William, made sure she learned to fight. Though, she did so with scorn, ruthlessness; not because she was angry she had to fight, but because so much pain came with the burden that ran in her veins. She was a powerful fighter, she was filled with wrath and pain, but such a pretty face showed no such signs.
When she was 17, a powerful wave of monsters attacked. Her aunt, bearing the gift of the sight, witnessed the whole scene. The gruesome, bloody attack. A pack of Hellhounds had seized them on a stroll through the park. They tore William to shreds. Camille refused to fight. No. A proper lady would never do such a horrible thing in front of her family, but the sight of her uncle being torn to pieces snapped her views for a moment. She quickly fought off the pack, every movement, stab, maneuver, and slice filled with pain and true, pure wrath. Never again would this burden hurt her. After she brutally murdered every last of the hounds, she turned to see her aunt, completely awestruck, dumbfounded, and heartbroken. A complete mixture of emotion in one, melancholy expression. Her expression closed, and she looked at Camille with complete scorn. She yelled at her, bashing her with insults. William wouldn't be dead if she had came.
With prior knowledge of Camp, given to her by William, she hastily ran from the park. Dress splashed with the blood of the damned. She ended up coming across the Hunt. Artemis and her oddly volatile lieutenant attempted to recruit her, but once learning of the rules she must abide by, she quickly refused. Marriage was a step she would come across later in life. Sadly, Artemis offered her a place at camp, to which she accepted. She quickly had her escorted to Camp in her chariot.
Upon arriving, she made a decision. Never would she pick up her weapons. Never would she use her powers. No, no. She will not have this life.