Burn Your Kingdom Down
Summary: She had always said she craved power above all else. She had never truly meant it until now. Takes place after last week's episode. Mellie-centric. One-shot.
Disclaimer: The title comes from the song, Seven Devils, by Florence and the Machine. Do not own anything.
Enjoy and reviews are always appreciated.
The vodka was good. It was rich. It burned. A delicious fire soothing the flames in her heart while igniting the ones in her stomach.
Mellie Grant had hated vodka. When she had been young and innocent, the smell alone was enough to make her feel sick. She didn't know exactly when she acquired the taste for it. All she knew was that, sadly, she was no longer young. Definitely no longer innocent. And vodka had suddenly and unexpectedly become her drink of choice. It dulled the pain and slowed her thoughts. It erased the bad and heightened the good. It made her feel untouchable. Powerful.
Power.
She had told her husband that the one thing she desired most in the world was becoming its ruler. She meant it too. There was no hesitation in her answer, no pause. Becoming the president of the United States, holding the world in her grasp, was the one thing she wanted with great desperation. She was confident in her answer. She was sure. She was scared out of her mind.
She was scared because there was nothing but certainty in her voice, in her heart. She had declared her need for power countless of times. She had thrown around her desire as a threat, a bargaining chip, a weapon. Everyone knew that Mellie Grant, First Lady, was unstoppable. Everyone knew that Mellie Grant, First Lady, was determined to hold on to the power she had. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And, oh, she had been scorned. Everyone knew it. Nobody understood it. She had always said she craved power above all else. She had never truly meant it until now.
Because she wasn't just Mellie Grant, First Lady. She was Mellie Grant, jilted wife, grieving mother, a victim, a survivor. She was simply Mellie. Mellie, who had fallen in love with a charismatic man whose ambitions rivaled her own. Her husband had worked his way into her life, displacing her goals and dreams, until her heart was only filled with him. They had been so happy, so in love.
Then everything changed.
All it took was one violent, rainy night for her world to flip upside down. The happiness faded. The love dimmed. She supposed that room had finally been made for her goals again. So she stood by her husband as he became president of the United States and took comfort in her own newfound power.
Then her love became someone else's. Olivia's lover. Olivia's love.
She wasn't about to let herself look like a damn fool. Another Hilary Clinton. Another duped wife. So she focused in on that power. She had nourished it, made it grow, felt the desire for more intensify. It was far more dignified for the staff to look at her with fear and admiration than with pity.
She's so power hungry. She's ruthless. She's crazy. She's a bitch.
Better than being a pathetic fool.
So she pretended that she, indeed, wanted the power. She let them all believe she was ruthless and crazy and a raging bitch. But at night, rejected and lonely in bed, she allowed herself to face the truth. She didn't want power. Or at least not as much as she led everyone to believe.
But then Olivia went missing, abducted and being auctioned off like an object. Fitz was a mess trying to keep from crumbling. Andrew was a lying bastard. Her daughter was away. Her son was with the angels. She had sat with Fitz, his arm around her, his eyes gazing into hers. He wanted Jerry back. But that wasn't possible, so he wanted Olivia. More than anything in the entire world, he wanted Olivia.
Then he asked her what she wanted. She wanted a lot of things.
She wanted her son back in her arms.
She wanted her husband to love her.
She wanted for the rape to have never happened.
She wanted her innocence.
But he had asked her what she wanted that was possible. Attainable. It was then, when she looked into his eyes, that she realized that there was nothing possible for her to obtain except power. She and Fitz couldn't recapture the love they once had. Jerry was gone. Nothing was possible except retaining and expanding power. So she told him. He didn't seem to be surprised. He had heard her say it hundreds of times. But he didn't realize that, this time, it was different. This time it was true, completely and utterly true. When Andrew threatened her, a fear had gripped her chest. He had the means to take away the only thing that was still possible for her to have. With her reputation tarnished she would have nothing. No husband, no son, no power.
So she said it. And, beyond all doubt, she meant it. It was a scary thing to comprehend.
Scary because she really was ruthless. Scary because that's what her soul had dwindled down to. Scary because there was no room for happiness or love. Scary because she had taken a liking to vodka. Scary because she just no longer gave a damn.
She sighed, resting her head against the back of the couch, feeling content for the first time in years. Just like with the vodka, she had acquired the taste for power. She felt liberated. No longer a cast-off wife. No longer a broken-hearted mother. No longer desperately hoping for things that just were not possible.
She finished off her drink. It burned. She smiled.
Mellie Grant, queen of the world, had a nice ring to it.