A/N: Fair warning – a few graphic visuals here. Nothing too disturbing. Depends on your imagination really.

The sun beat down on her back as another day dawned. One filled with hard labour, deprivation and complaints.

Most of which came from the servants.

Mammy, Pork and Prissy were reluctant to throw away their lives as house workers. Scarlett tried to accept their pleas but warned them that if they didn't work, they wouldn't eat and if they didn't like it, they were free to leave Tara.

To even consider such an idea was blasphemous. They couldn't leave their family now. Where would they go?

The old times were gone and there was none of the old ways where they could move to another family.

The Southern notion of hospitality was still in place but finances were not as they were. Folk now had to rely on themselves to ensure that work was done.

Even if they could find some respite, they would probably end up doing the work of a field hand.

Why go through all that to experience the same result?

No, they would stay and do the work Miss Scarlett prescribed.

But they didn't like it.

Scarlett turned a deaf ear to their grumblings and concentrated on the day when all of this would be a bad dream.

The hard work gave her focus and determination to strive and not whither.

Great balls of fire – she was Gerald O'Hara's daughter!

Didn't that count for something?

She would not cling to the old days and the old ways. They were dead the day that Fort Sumter was fired on. To cling to them was nonsensical, foolish and a waste of energy.

Scarlett did not have that luxury.

XxX

Each morning brought the same list of chores, most of which were tedious and formerly unknown to the Southern Belle. They involved:

Tending to the animals.

Finding food for them all.

Picking cotton.

And that was only the beginning.

Water needed to be gathered, there were patients to care for, cooking, cleaning…

A fraction of these would have been enough to send anybody into a fit of despair or into the realms of unconscious .Scarlett had begun to hoard her share of food until the evenings as the nights when her body was crying out from exhaustion – her mind was not.

It tormented her, twisting her thoughts and trapping her in her own sorrow.

Every night she relived the return to Tara.

Her mother was dead and in death, her corpse was deformed, hollow and it smelled of the dead soldiers they'd brought to the hospital. Of course, having been unmarried, she was not permitted to nurse. But she was given the task of washing the bloody bandages and soiled sheets. She'd heaved every time she thought of it and woke up shaking.

Life was nightmarish during the day. She couldn't let the nights be the same. She'd lose her mind!

XxX

Some weeks after they'd returned, she'd gone about the County, looking for survivors.

She refused to dwell on the eeriness of the County. She couldn't permit herself to recall how bright life had once been. How charming and full of vigour.

How the men had hustled about her, desperate for her favours.

She'd toyed with them for a while before palming them off onto other girls, eager for their attention. She'd laughed then, safe in the knowledge that they were better off.

After all, none compared to Ashley Wilkes…

His name pierced her heart. To this day, she could not think of him without experiencing pain on any level. Yes, he'd rejected her but he had also claimed her heart in his graceful fingers. His darling grey eyes pierced her soul and made her believe that she was the only woman who would ever bring him happiness…

She stopped, the pain rising in her chest.

'No more!' Her heart declared. 'I mustn't think of him. He will never be mine. He chose another.'

How she hated Melanie then. And her baby. It was her fault she couldn't be in Tara earlier. Why did her relatives have to cause her so much trouble?

She should be with them! They were the ones who cared for her.

They should be the ones stuck with such a pathetic invalid and her brat.

Ashley's brat!

No, it was too much to bear.

Oh why couldn't this stop?

XxX

The Fontaines were generosity itself and Scarlett was glad that they would have enough to see them through to the winter.

After that though…

She shook her head refusing to think that far ahead.

There was too much to do!

XxX

As 1864 became 1865, a dull inevitability swept the County.

Many felt the War would never end.

They grieved over the waste of life.

They mourned their darlings and the loss of the lifestyle that they once took for granted.

No matter how much they wished, things would never be what they were.

That gentility was stripped from their very bodies. Their eyes were fastened opened and everyone, right down to the smallest child, would fear for the morrow and the torment it would bring.

There was one who did not consider such phantoms. She'd never cared to analyse those around her before, what good would it do to commence now?

The cow couldn't milk itself.

Eggs wouldn't grow feet and walk to the kitchen, or its remains.

Yes, Tara had survived the War but had laid host to the Yankees once more. Scarlett had been glad that she had rehoused the animals and confiscated any lasting treasures.

She'd never forgive herself if they were rediscovered adorning the ears of some Yankee white trash. Ellen would die of shame all over again.

Since that fateful morning when the Yankees set fire to the kitchen and their precious hoard of cotton, Scarlett's resentment had only intensified.

Where once Rhett Butler fuelled the fire in her heart nor did the Demons in Blue. Their very existence was enough to send her into a black mood.

Even Melly avoided her then.

'One day', she uttered to herself. 'One day.'

XxX

As April dawned, bringing word of General Lee's surrender, a sense of serenity replaced the dullness. The War was over!

Their lives could mean something again!

As Southerners celebrated and commiserated all at once. Scarlett began to make plans. They were on the edge of something wonderful and she would restore Tara's glory.

Even if it killed her.

That was her vow.

The War may be over but the Battle for survival was still in place. To the victor the spoils, or something like that, was what they said. Though who they were, she could not recall.

Yes! As God as her witness, both Tara and she would be Victorious.

That was a promise!

A/N: I feel like writing 'cue music' or something. So, what do we think?