A/N: New story! Yay! Also, my first multi-chaptered story. I want to clarify though, that this is more like a collection of short stories, an anthology. This first installment is only meant to be a brief introduction to Olivia and Fitz's new daughter. After this, the chapters will be much more interesting... at least I hope! ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own Scandal.

Arc One. Enter: Pretty Girl.

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The article's purpose was to comment on fashion styles for the upcoming fall. Nothing more. The picture that was included was only supposed to be a visual guide as to what the author was suggesting. "Do not be afraid to add a splash of color", "less is more", "layering is key", so on and so forth. Innocent. It was supposed to be innocent.

It was not, that meant, supposed to pose a threat to the free world. Because that would not be innocent.

However…

The dress featured in the article was a smooth alabaster white, absolutely arresting. With the faint shimmer and gloss of the fabric, it could've easily been lost amid a field of snow. The cut was a professional fit-and-flare, the neckline curving to the woman's collarbone and the bottom hem swaying just below her kneecaps. The fabric was comprised of thick, stiff cotton peeping out beneath a layer of fine lace, and while it was taut against the woman's torso, columns of impossibly long pleats began at the end of her ribcage. It was a gorgeous piece of work. However, it was not so much so as to distract from the wearer's own beauty.

The wearer of the dress, the woman in the photograph, was the true masterpiece. In mid-stride down the busy D.C. streets, donning both a four-month-old baby on her hip and a determined look on her face, this woman was stunning under the late summer sun. From her glowing ebony skin to the few ink black curls that escaped her ponytail to frame her face – she was the embodiment of maternal bliss. The protective hold that she had around her infant child revealed all the ardor that her face wasn't. It was clear that she loved her baby.

In this particular photo, the said baby's front was pressed against her mother's chest, her tiny head resting against her mother's shoulder. No one looking at this picture would be able to see the entirety of her small face, but what could be seen was still enough to upset the one Mellie Grant. A harsh sneer painted itself onto her well-manicured face as she studied the tiny being that, even at four months of age, was somehow powerful enough to influence the on goings at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

McKenna Marlöse Pope, born April 11th, was very much her father's daughter. With her warm hazelnut complexion and the beginnings of maple ringlets, she exhibited traits that were more telling of her European descent than they were of her Black. There were also those signature slate gray eyes that were bestowed upon her, serving as irrefutable proof of her paternal parentage. They were round and expressive, a halting contrast against her golden skin. It was as if this was the little girl's way of telling the entire world that her father was President Fitzgerald Grant III, dare anyone ever doubt it.

Though, doubting McKenna Pope's parentage was something that Mellie hoped the world was actually doing – and would continue to do for the next 5 or 6 years.

At present, the only people that knew about the existence of a lovechild between her husband and Olivia Pope were herself, Cyrus, and of course, her husband and Olivia Pope. There was also the likely chance that some of the Secret Service men closer to Fitz, like Hal and Tom, had drawn conclusions based on the snippets that they overheard every day. Maybe even the other staff members that were often in close proximity.

Mellie was both surprised and relieved that her children were two of the many people that appeared to remain oblivious to the existence of their… half-sibling (she still had difficulty addressing the infant as such). She was especially surprised seeing as both Karen and Jerry had seen multiple photographs of this baby in online articles and the like (apparently, Olivia Pope was some sort of DC celebrity, known for working on high profile cases for equally high profile people). Jerry's state of oblivion was somewhat excusable due to the fact that he was all of 9 years old. However, Karen was different.

Even at 13 years old, Mellie knew that her daughter was exceedingly receptive. Karen had never inquired as to why her parents were so distant toward one another, but Mellie knew that her daughter had to have noticed. She was too intelligent to not have. They were never the family to sit down and talk out their issues, thus, Mellie figured that her daughter must have adopted this habit of internalizing her problems. So even though she woke up every day only to be bombarded by more and more evidence of her parents' loveless marriage, she didn't say anything. Mellie was positive that unless prompted to do so, Karen never would.

Maybe the thought had crossed her daughter's mind, but her still too innocent 13 year old had dismissed it. Karen, though highly intelligent for her age, would not be able to fully understand the weight of the truth – if she had indeed contemplated it. Her father having a baby with someone that wasn't her mother would be inconceivable, silly even, in a 13 year old's eyes. Especially since they were still married. It was similar to kids imagining that they had superpowers, but knowing all the while that it could never actually be true.

"I think that she looks just like Livy."

"Nuh-uh! She doesn't look anything like Livy!"

"Says the boy who learned to dress himself all of 2 days ago! Those are definitely Livy's lips. And look at her nose! Liv's. Again!"

"But, she's just so…"

"What?"

"She's so… well, pale."

Mellie tore her eyes from the photograph and delivered a reprimanding look to her son. The three of them were in the back of the car and seated in the order of first herself, Karen in the middle, and then Jerry on the other side of his sister. Both of them were straining against their seatbelts, trying to see the latest photograph of whom they didn't know was their father's secret child.

"Jerry, Sweetie, don't call her 'pale'. Say that she is 'fair'," Mellie corrected with a tight smile on her lips.

"Why can't I just say 'pale'?"

"Because it sounds rude. Your father and I are raising you two to be polite and well-spoken children."

"Fine," she heard her 9 year old grumble in resignation. "She's 'fair'."

"That's much better, thank you," she responded with a curt smile.

Mellie handed Karen the photograph so that they could continue to fawn over "Livy's baby" amongst themselves. The two kids cried out in delight and immediately hunched over the photo as if they were dissecting it with a magnifying glass.

"When are we going to be able to meet her?" Karen whined in frustration.

"Yeah, dad promised that he'd get Liv to come see us soon…" Jerry grumbled.

Mellie looked down at the two children and took in their disgruntled expressions. Their dark brown eyebrows were furrowed and their tiny mouths downturned at the corners. As stoic a woman that Mellie recognized herself to be, it still unsettled her to see her children this forlorn. However, she'd rather they experience this kind of hurt over and over again as opposed to what would come when they finally found out who McKenna truly was to them.

"Liv's a very busy woman," was all that Mellie could conjure up to say. "And we are very busy people ourselves."

"She's always been a busy woman, Mother. But she somehow had time for us before. What's so different now?"

"She has a baby now, Karen. She's a new mother."

While Mellie knew that what she told her daughter was not a lie, she also knew that it was not necessarily true. Olivia wasn't distancing herself just because she had a baby. It was because she'd had the President of the United States' baby.

And that made all the difference.