Medea

Some say she wasn't born evil. After all, no child is born a sinner, right? It wasn't her fault, it was never her fault. It was her family. It was all because of her family.

And what a family it was.

Her father had always been an absent, abstract figure in her life. He was simply... never there. More akin to a concept in her mind, than anything real, tangible. His only want in life: pleasure. That's all he ever wanted, all he sought. And perhaps, any other female would have been hurt or offended by such egoistical behavior,. But not Mother. If anything, it rather suited her well. She didn't want nor need a male whose only use was to breed. She did all the work after all, no? She carried the pups in her belly, she birthed them, raised them, fed them. It was all her. All her. Two litters. Eight pups. Her blood ran through them.

She did so much for them. Makign sure they grew up strong. Powerfu.

It was only right they proved they were worth the effort.

Medea would never truly now how her older sisters were raised. How Mother was with them. Because she was born amongst the second litter. And in that litter... there was also Caliadne.

Mother had always been tough with her kids. But not with Caliadne. The girl was born frail, lethargic, but her red eyes and pristine white fur made her a creature of otherworldy beauty. The girl was perfect in Mother's eyes. Her fragility was due to the fact that she had given part of her soul to save another in the womb, the lack of melanin her evidence. Grateful, Mother said, they should all be grateful to her. She had saved them, given them new life, so they would be born strong and healthy.

And nothing, nothing the rest of them did could ever compare.

Medea knew she was lacking. As much as she hated to admit it. She wasn't smart like smart like Eris, or cunning like Epione, wasn't strong as Psyche. She had her own sharp brain, yes, but it was masked by others. And Mother only praised those whose masks shone brighter than the others. What did Medea have?

She looked at Caliadne. Cali had neither strength nor brain, yet she was white and she was beautiful. Medea was dark. Darker than most of her siblings, perhaps the darkest of them all. Did that make her ugly?

For a long time, she believe it did.

But how could she allow the world to see such a weakness? How could she allow Mother to see her as anything but beautiful and strong? So she lied. She wore her weakness on her sleeve, donned her prettiest mask and told the world she was the most beautiful of all. The one sculpted by the Divine itself, the most worthy of praise and adoration, the most perfect creature in this world and the next. A being of excellence, she was. Proud and glorious and beautiful. She lied. Lied and lied and lied...

Until one day, those lies became the truth. The only truth she had ever known.

With a massive egomania and narcissistic complex, Medea grew up caring only for the one that truly mattered - her. Spending time fretting over others' misfortunes was time wasted. Death? Hah. It suited them rather well, foolish creatures, all of them.

Medea didn't care when the split tore the island. Years later, she didn't care when the Alpha died and the Tundes pack split again, this time into three. When the time to make a choice came, she and her sister Parthinia - the only sibling she thought worthy of being in her presence - shared a knowing look. They would both travel to the east...

Until they acquired a blessing for themselves, and became worthy of the Red Queen.

Then... They would travel North.