Disclaimer: I don't own Scandal.

AN: Before I formally begin my author's note, I just want to warn everyone that this story is not for the faint of heart. Racial slurs will be used, there will be violence, and some things may be hard to digest. So if you're the type that doesn't like to read things like that, I wouldn't go any further. Anyways, for those of you who still want to read my story, I say thank you. For those who are familiar with my work, welcome back. Let the journey begin...

Prologue

1845 Richmond, Virginia

"Snap the peas just like I showed you, Olivia," her mother, Greta, told her again, teaching her seven year old daughter the correct way.

Greta was a very beautiful woman and her light skin spoke of her mulatto heritage. She had high cheekbones and full lips that she passed down to her daughter. Her hair was more curly than kinky and she had the prettiest singing voice that Olivia had ever heard. Many of the men, including some of the overseers, had taken a liking to Greta, but she had chosen Eli, a strong man that was an excellent father, worker, and husband.

"Yes, mama," Olivia responded, snapping the green vegetable perfectly.

"Good, now just pick up the pace. You have to be the fastest so that Mrs. Grant will pick you to work in the house," her mother told her.

That had been all Olivia had been hearing lately. She had to be the best at snapping peas, setting the table, washing the floors, and she was even learning how to sew so that she could work in the big house permanently and not in the fields with the others. Her mother always told her that since she was pretty and was lighter than some of the others that would already give her a leg up, but in order to a be in the house and never have to feel the end of a whip, she had to be the best. And so she was because she had seen firsthand what happened someone didn't do their task right.

As they sat at the workers table in the back of the kitchen, they quickly completed their task, knowing that there was still plenty to do before sundown and they were to head back to their quarters. That was Olivia's favorite part of the day. While their cabin was small and there was upwards of fifteen of them that had to share, it was the one time of day she didn't have to work. She got to see her father, often tired from a hard day's work in the field chopping tobacco, but he always made time to tell her stories of freedom. He would tell her tales of a place called Canada in the north where slaves didn't have to work for the white man and how one day, they'd go there. He gave her hope.

They were prepping dinner when young master Fitzgerald came running into the kitchen. He was just a year older than Olivia and she thought he was cutest boy she'd ever seen. His eyes captivated her and the fact that he was kind to her made her infatuation grow. When she was younger, they would play together but then came the time for Olivia to start working and the line between coloreds and whites was drawn. His father had a reputation of being the harshest slave master in Virginia, something that he was extremely proud of. He showed no mercy and the nooses that hung from the trees were testament to that.

"Greta, I'm hungry," Fitzgerald announced.

"Well dinner is in the oven so you'll just have to wait or you'll spoil your supper," Greta told him, a slight smile edging at the corner of her mouth.

She had practically raised Fitzgerald herself, being designated his mammy from the time he was born. Mrs. Grant didn't take to motherhood so she pawned her responsibilities off onto Greta. Many women of privilege did that and many of those men that the slaves raised turned right around and became the harshest overseers and plantation owners. Just look at Master Grant. He was raised by Olivia's grandmother and when she was no longer of any use to him, he sold her dirt cheap to someone that was even worse than he. Greta just prayed that Fitzgerald didn't turn out the same way.

"Okay," he grumbled, a forlorn look on his face.

Just before he could leave the kitchen, Greta slipped him a freshly made biscuit with a piece of ham. He smiled gratefully then ran off to do whatever it was he was doing before. Olivia watched the entire exchange, somewhat jealous of the relationship her mother had with Fitzgerald. Whenever she had complained of hunger pains in the middle of the night, her mother told her to get used to that feeling because it would never go away. She didn't yet fully understand the extent of slavery, she just knew that for some reason, she had to work and white people didn't. But she was going to learn real soon.

"Fitzgerald, come out here!" The sound of Master's voice made Olivia jump, terror racing up her spine. She had heard that tone of voice before and knew that something bad was about to happen. "The rest of you niggers, get out here now!"

Master was a big man with the same color eyes as his son, but Big Gerry's eyes didn't hold the same light. No, he was cruel and rigid man that never smiled and was known to punish his slaves at the slightest of indiscretions. He once whipped a man because he referred to him as 'sir' and not 'master', and as he did so, made the other slaves watch and take not of this lesson in respect.

Olivia quickly dropped the sponge she was using to scrub the floors and raced out into the front yard with her mother. She saw the others coming in from the fields and the other women pouring out of the house to see what Master was calling them for. As she got closer, she saw. It was her father, his arms tied behind his back and his feet bound together so that he couldn't move. His face was bloody and his body was stripped naked and heavily whipped. Two of the overseers were dragging him to the hanging tree while the other one prepared the noose. Her mother saw at the same exact time and she let out a harrowing cry for her husband. She rushed forward in attempts to get to him but the other slaves held her back, knowing that if she went any further, she'd be dead within five minutes. One of them whispered in her ear and Greta turned to see Olivia standing by herself. She went to her daughter and began praying, knowing there was nothing else she could do.

"It seems we have a brave nigger on our hands," Master Grant bellowed. "This nigger here thinks he can stage a revolt, thinks he can get together a group of my property and flee. Well, you thought wrong. Anything to say for yourself?" Master Grant asked, kicking up Eli's chin with the tip of his boot.

Eli set his jaw and looked straight ahead, his pride emanating from his body. Olivia watched in horror as Master kicked her father again, this time with more force and blood and spit flew from his mouth. "I asked you a question, boy, and I want an answer." Then crouching low, he asked again, "did you think you could run away with my slaves and not think I would find out about it?"

Eli remained silent, spitting out a tooth and continuing to stare straight ahead.

"Hang him," was all Master Grant said, spitting on Eli before standing back up. "Let this be a warning to anyone who thinks they can run away and there not be any consequences."

They slipped the noose around her father's head then proceed to hoist him up onto the barrel that was right below the tree. Eli began to recite the Lord's Prayer, "Our Father, which art in heaven, hallowed by thy Name…." Her mother was screaming and tears were running down Olivia's face. When he finished his prayer, he turned to his family and told them how sorry he was and that he loved them. Then he held his head up high and went silent to wait for his fate.

"See Fitzgerald, this is what you're going to have to do when niggers disobey," Master Grant spoke to his son, getting closer and closer to the barrel that was preserving Eli's life. "You give them a home, you give them food, you let them work for you and this is how they repay you. Well, I have no tolerance for the animals that think they can just walk away."

Just before he kicked the barrel over, Greta grabbed her daughter and shielded her away. Then Olivia heard the sound that she'd never forget. She heard the barrel fall, the noose tighten, and her father's neck snap. Her mother's cries were drowned out as Olivia retreated into herself, trying to transport herself to Canada, to anywhere but here.

"Anyone who was thinking of doing the same, I have plenty of rope," Master Grant warned.

Olivia heard someone retching up the contents of their stomach and peering around her mother's back, she saw it was Fitzgerald, hunched over and physically ill for what he just witnessed. Master Grant walked over to his son, laughing, and told him to stop being such a pansy. Then he slapped him hard across the face and told him to get in the house. Master Grant followed behind his son and everyone let out a sigh of relief that no one else was going to die today.

"Don't just stand around, get him down then get back to work," The head overseer, Cyrus, yelled then took out his whip so that everyone knew not to drag their feet.

AN: I usually try to stay away from hard topics, but this one has been on my mind for a little bit. I'm a huge slavery, civil war, and civil rights enthusiast. There's something about those eras (really it's just one era that was continuous) that intrigues me. I've been looking for a good historical romance that features a black woman and a white man that fall in love under less than great circumstances and while I found a few set in the 40's and 50's, I personally haven't been able to find one set in slavery times. (If anyone has read such a book, let me know in a review). So I did what any practical person does, write it myself. This is just a prologue, a testing of the waters to see how it will be received so let me know in a review what you thought.

P.S: For those who read my other stories and are thinking, "how are you gonna start another story and you haven't even finished the one you have?", you're right. But I just needed to get this out, and I promise I'll finish the other two soon and will try my hardest not to let this fall by the wayside.

P. P. S: What the hell Shonda? How much more are you going to put on Fitz? I mean really? The next thing she's gonna say is that he's single handedly responsible for recession, knew Osama Bin Laden on a first name basis, and is causing global warming. Having him kill her mother was just overkill, and it looks like next week she's gonna have him screw Mellie. I mean, damn, give the dude a break.