Andromeda = The Chained Maiden

Pegasus = The Winged Horse

Constellations tell a story. They are engrained into the myths and legends of the world. They tell the history, both triumph and loss.

Prolog:

Spring 2005

Adam "Top" Dalton had returned home safe after finishing his first overseas tour and needed the quiet peace of his uncle's farm. The routine labor of tending to the farm chores: feeding the chickens, mucking the stalls, and tending the vegetable garden his aunt kept at the back of the old farm house soothed his mind and calmed the anxiety of being home and away from the constant action he had grown accustomed to over the previous eighteen months. It also reminded him of the few fond memories of his childhood.

It was a snowy early spring morning, his uncle had gone to town and his aunt had gone to work at the local hospital, when there was a knock on the front door. Adam had just finished pouring his first cup of coffee and set it down to glance out the window to the left of the door. A young girl with dark brown hair and a pale pink knit hat on was shuffling her feet looking nervous. His nerves tingled in anticipation for a fight after spending too many months in a hostile environment, but realized he was stateside and a teenager here didn't necessarily mean hostile.

Pulling the door open, "Can I help you?" he demanded in a tone that gave little room for interpretation. He was in no mood for company or someone trying to sell something.

"Hi, I'm looking for Adam Dalton, does he live here?" she was looking up at him with blue eyes that were so similar in color to his father and his hackles rose in response.

"Whose asking?" His grip tightened on the door knob ready to slam the door in her face.

"I'm his sister," she confessed twisting her gloved hands together. He was clearly making her more nervous, but she continued to meet his eye.

"You are not my sister," He responded immediately. He immediately regretted giving away who he was, another sign he needed to be left alone.

"You're Adam?" Her face brightening before looking into his eyes and seeing the hostility. Immediately, she stepped back, gripping the strap of her backpack tighter.

"You are not my sister." He insisted even as the more he looked at her, the more he saw his own father.

"I'm Andrea Dalton, but everyone calls me Andy. My father and your father are the same." Her eyes showed any hope she had at a friendly greeting was fading fast.

"My father is dead. So how do I know if you are telling the truth?" he demanded crossing his arms across his chest.

She pulled the cream-colored mittens from her hands and stuffed them in her coat pockets before reaching into the backpack on her shoulder and pulling a folded piece of glossy paper from its depths. She carefully unfolded the picture and turned it to show a woman with blue eyes and the same dark brown hair holding a screaming newborn and his father, bent proudly around the woman and a twinkle in his eye. He was smiling, and his eyes looked clear enough to know he was sober.

"Right after I was born, he told my mother that he had been cheating on his wife with her and that was why he wouldn't marry her. He didn't believe in divorce, but his relationship with her had not meant to turn into a lifetime commitment in the form of a kid. My mother was heartbroken and raised me on her own." She explained this with clinical detachment and when he looked at her, he could tell there was more to the story. He could also tell that there was an edge of resentment at her father abandoning her.

He debated internally about inviting her in and turning her away. Dealing with family drama was the last thing he wanted during his leave, but there was little use in denying they were related. Clearly, she had done some research before coming to see him.

"Come inside, we'll talk." He stepped aside and allowed her the space to come in out of the cold and snow.

She walked through the door and made sure to scrape her boots free of as much snow as possible. Her dark hair clung to her cheek when she removed her coat and stuffed the pink hat inside the sleeve and handed to him. He hung it on the coat tree beside the door and lead her back to the eat-in kitchen with its large rectangular table with bench seats on either side.

"Do you drink coffee?" He asked as he reached into the cupboard for another cup. She nodded, and he poured the black liquid and left enough room for cream and sugar. He reached to grab the sugar before he heard her pipe up, "I take it black." Setting the sugar down, he smiled and set both their mugs down.

"You're probably wondering how I found you." Andy twisted her fingers in her lap and then reached to warm her hands on the coffee mug. She was looking up at him, but not quite able to look him in the eye now that she had made it in the front door.

"It was one of many questions." Adam studied her nervous movements and smiled a little to himself because it reminded him of his oldest sister, Claire.

"My mother passed away last week. I've been staying with my aunt, but she is battling cancer and doesn't have long." She explained again with that clinical detachment. Her coffee mug remained steady, but she seemed unable to look him directly in the eye as she confessed.

"Look I…" He interrupted already anticipating the request for help.

"I'm not asking you to take care of me. I know you already have two other sisters and that your other sister died because of our father. You don't know me, and you don't need me tagging along interrupting your family. I get it. I have taken care of myself this far and I will continue to do so." For the first time, she didn't sound nervous. She sounded defiant and even a little angry.

Adam smiled a little and looked at this girl in front of him, wondering what to say to make it easier on her. Andy was being brave enough to open herself up, but also knew not to expect much. He wasn't exactly in the best frame of mind to help someone discover themselves.

"So then, why did you come here?" It was the easiest question to ask her. It would probably give him the most answers.

"I am an only child, or so I thought, my mother's only sister is dying, and I have no one else. I was looking for family. I don't expect open arms given the fact that my mother was apparently our father's mistress. I'm not naive enough to believe that you won't throw me out of here once your questions are answered. I know that you probably don't want to answer questions about him and you probably want me to leave, but your mother probably raised you to hear someone out. I'm sure you're curious too." She said all of this with open honesty and her hands still wrapped securely around the coffee mug in front of her. Her blue eyes so similar to his own never left his.

Well, damn. He thought this wasn't going to be as simple as listening to her story and sending her on her way, ignoring his father's indiscretion and moving on with his life; looking at her, he knew that he couldn't ignore her. She'd pegged him, and she'd just met him. Somewhere deep inside, he added her to his list of responsibilities before he was even conscious that he was doing it.

"Okay, start from the beginning."

Notes: It has been literally 10+ years since I have written any form of fanfiction. Hope you all enjoyed.