A/N: Well, I've started another story that may never be finished! Actually, this one might actually go somewhere, as I have much of it already planned out! However, I'm taking my jolly old time on this one so don't expect really frequent updates...at all. BTW, if you don't figure it out, this is told from Andromeda's POV. This prologue really just gives a general overview of Andromeda, so I promise that the chapters will actually have plots(!) readers gasp Yes, folks, I'm actually writing plot-having material. Who thought we'd see the day...
Prologue
I wasn't always this way. I wasn't always the black sheep of the family, the odd one out. At one time I was another picture perfect Black girl, too. I was brought up on the same family morals as my sisters, and had no reason to doubt them. My childhood was a fairly pleasant one for me at the time, though when I look at it now, it was disgusting. But those days are the ones I sometimes envy, the days I wish I could relive. When I was content not to stand above anyone, just to be another name on the family tree in gold embroidery as seemingly flawless as my adolescent character. Other times, those are the days I hate with a passion, knowing how puerile I was, how naïve, to believe every idea fed into my mind by those I idolized. When I lived by two simple words: tojours pur. Always pure. And in the eyes of my family, I was. I was pure; I was good, because I honored my family name. Though I did it unknowingly, simply acting the way I had been taught all my life, they were happy to have me that way; unrealizing, because if I didn't comprehend, if I didn't understand what I was doing, I couldn't dissent. It may seem sickening to you, but I was accepted, I was wanted, I was loved. However, love is an odd thing in the Black family, for the greatest love of all, is the love of superiority. And the Black name signifies superiority, so the greatest love of any member of the Black family was the love of themselves. But not in a conceited fashion, no, not the love of their physical self, but the love of their lineage, the love of being who they were. This, to most, would seem a good thing, being mistaken for respect of tradition, but when you're a Black, who you are is not always as wonderful as most believe...
A/N: I know, I know, revoltingly short. Don't worry, I'e got some nice long chapters planned! I'll probably post the next one when I get feedback for this one, or when I actually finish the next chapter, whichever comes first. Ciao, peepz!