Andromeda was ignored.
It was the curse of the middle child, to be forever overlooked, forever misjudged, forever compared, forever ignored. And what a pair to be sandwiched in between, she grimaced.
Beautiful, bold Bellatrix, the eldest. Fierce and proud, she was feared more than she was loved, but it didn't matter. People were drawn by the animal magnetism that radiated off of her, her aura pulling them in like moths to fire. And just like the fire she will burn them all, Andi thought with savage glee. Some girls just want to watch the world burn. Some girls want to do the burning.
And pretty-as-a-picture, Narcissa was the baby, with porcelain smooth skin, creamy as milk with those sparkling sapphire eyes. Her grace and poise charmed everyone who met her. The boys wanted to be with her, and the girls wanted to be her. Pretty, perfect Narcissa with the pretty, perfect life. Andi sometimes found her nauseating, and she knew Bella did too, at times. Their eyes would catch as Cissy drizzled cool, calculated flattery into empty heads, andher gleaming blues would sometimes betray to her sisters her haughty amusement. But that was only because they knew her well, and faux flattery really was tiresome to hear, but of course, that was only if you knew it was all an act. Yet she reels them in, and they come to watch her play the perfect princess.
And where does that leaves me, she wondered. Not quite as stunning as Bella, not quite as cultured as Cissy. The middle child. Average? Mediocre? Mean. The mean. Ha.
So Andromeda waited. It doesn't really matter, she decided. I will hold them together while I can, and they can have their time now. When it all goes up in flames, well, the last one standing wins the throne.
I'll be queen someday.