I feel like it's important to mention that Scarlet's lore has changed with what little i have spoken about her. So here's a small summary to flesh her out more!! ❤️
Honourable tags to my friends, who are a part of this combination of our AU's and headcannons; @fairchilds-glasses @arweeniehutjr @picklesxtra
Her full name was Scarlet Elizabeth Valentine, twin sister of Tiffany Valentine and older sister of Cassidy Valentine. She was labelled as the curse, despite not being rebellious and problematic out of the girls. This was simply because her mother wasn't prepared to have two children with her miserable excuse of a husband, who in the end left them when Cassidy came along. She's a good example of certain people who shouldn't have children.
Sadly, she grew to be terrified of her own sister and her boyfriend, forced to keep quiet about the murder when she wanted to cut contact with Tiffany completely. But since they let her keep their childhood home and the money from their mother's savings, she just threw herself into finishing school, trying to get a degree and taking care of Cassidy.
Despite this, Scarlet still loved her mother and did everything to earn her love and attention, being the more responsible out of the 3 sisters, nurturing, kind and acting as the older sister, even though she was technically sharing that title with Tiffany.
Tragically, when Chucky and Tiffany murderd their mother, Scarlet refused to see reason as to why Tiffany had done it, justifiable or not. Scarlet was heartbroken and defended what little honour that woman had left.
Then, out of nowhere in November 1988, Tiffany hands Scarlet, her daughter Rachel, begging for her to take the baby in after Chucky is shot and killed. Scarlet seeing her chance to start anew, skips town and runs away to Philadelphia and goes by her middle name Elizabeth, works as a barista and meets Lou Fairchild, the local hunter and gets married to him not long after, taking on his last name to hide her identity.
(intentionally mirroring @fairchilds-glasses 's original AU)
Important note; she never got that degree she wanted but found herself in a good position at a daycare as an assistant instead. She also really wanted to pass Rachel as Lou's biological kid, and almost everyone around them believed it since they're redhead/gingers.
But Lou knows about her past and such because she had opened up about it to him.. huge mistake, because he grew to resent Rachel after Scarlet falls ill due to sickness and passes away, now stuck with this poor kid.
Thank you @datvcompanionweeks for hosting! (Previous prompts: Day 1)
A diptych. History has a way of repeating itself and scouts often see things other people miss.
(Or Harding gets a front row seat for two emotional break downs caused by the Dread Wolf. ~3,000 words.)
I.
Night watch along the approach to Skyhold was generally a quiet affair. Fire at your back, quiet conversation with the soldiers on patrol, maybe a book or a snack to pass the time.
Harding didn't get assignments like this anymore. She had proven herself invaluable in the field, acting head of the Herald of Andraste’s own vanguard, setting up base camp and collecting reports for Inquisitor Lavellan and her companions as they chased rifts and demons around Ferelden and Orlais.
Tonight, however, Harding had been feeling magnanimous when Derry begged for a favor. His wife and kids had just arrived in Skyhold and he really wanted to be with them as they settled into the fortress. There were worse ways to spend the night, and Derry had thrown in some fancy cheeses in exchange for taking his watch.
Harding was considering how best to enjoy her “thank you for taking my watch” bribe when movement in the distance caught her eye. A solo rider, coming in fast. Grabbing her spyglass, Harding waved a hand signal at the nearest soldier and tried to make out whatever details she could. The horse wore barding marked with the Inquisition's symbol. The rider was cloaked, but it didn’t take long for Harding to make out who it was. After all, she spent a lot of time watching the Inquisitor come and go when out in the field.
But why was she riding back to Skyhold alone in the middle of the night?
The soldier Harding signaled had come up to the scout’s side and was squinting towards the rider. This far out and lacking a spyglass, he didn’t seem to recognize who it was. “Trouble?”
“I’m not sure,” Harding said. It didn’t look like anyone was following the Inquisitor. No obvious signs of injury. She considered raising a formal alarm, but if the Inquisitor wanted the troops mustered, there were alchemical and magical signals she could use that would be visible from even further away than she was now.
Something was off, something Harding couldn't put her finger on. Collecting more information before waking up the entire fortress seemed prudent. “Wait here and wait for my signal,” she told the soldier.
Grabbing a torch, Harding jogged down the trail. The Inquisitor had slowed her horse, though she looked agitated, holding her shoulders stiffly as she turned her head to the side. She looked like she was considering galloping off in the opposite direction as Harding approached. “Inquisitor? Is everything alright?”
She didn’t answer, though her grip on the reins tightened.
Yeah, something was definitely weird here. Harding scanned the area, ready to drop the torch and take up her bow if she spotted anything amiss. “Is something chasing you? Are you injured? Do you need…”
The Inquisitor had finally turned her head in a way that allowed the torchlight to illuminate her face. Her starkly blank face. The light green Dalish tattoos, like tree branches reaching across her cheeks and up her forehead were gone.
Harding trailed off. She tried not to stare. She was absolutely staring. “Your markings, they’re…what happened?”
The Inquisitor, usually so serene, so unflappable, the steadfast leader of their organization, crumpled. Harding watched in horror as she hunched over, sobbing. It was lucky her mount was well trained. As it was, the horse side stepped a bit, tossing his head in reaction to his rider’s distress. The last thing they needed was the only hope Thedas had of closing the breach breaking her neck after being thrown off her horse.
Harding waved her torch towards the soldier she had left behind, signaling he should approach, then moved to get the Inquisitor off her horse. “Umm, Inquisitor? C’mon, let's get you down from there.” Sticking the torch in the ground, Harding awkwardly pulled the Inquisitor out of the saddle. She didn’t resist, didn’t react, and barely seemed aware of Harding’s presence at all as she folded in on herself on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest and continuing to cry.
Harding stood over her. She felt like she should say something, do something. Before she could sort out how to try and comfort her boss when she didn’t really understand what was going on, the soldier reached them, gasping once he took in what he was seeing. “Inquisitor Lavellan?”
He sounded terrified. Which made an awful kind of sense. Harding realized whatever was going on, they needed to minimize how many people saw the Inquisitor in this state. Everyone relied on her, pinned their hopes on her. Seeing her breaking down would do awful things to the morale in the Inquisition. It was doing awful things to Harding right now. She turned to the soldier. “Hey. Look at me, alright? I need you to keep this quiet and I need you to go find someone who can help.”
The soldier didn’t seem capable of taking his eyes off the Inquisitor. His voice was pinched and slightly panicked when he spoke “Um, who? Who should I get?”
“Try to find Solas or…”
“No!” The Inquisitor looked up at that, her eyes wide, her voice shaky. “No, not….he…”
Harding felt her stomach drop. Solas and the Inquisitor were close. Like, scandalously shared a tent in the field close. If they had fought or something, that would explain why she was so upset. It was also deeply uncomfortable to consider the Herald of Andraste, vessel of the Maker’s will, everyone’s salvation, being reduced to something so mundane as a broken hearted woman crying over a fight with her boyfriend.
They definitely needed to minimize who found out about this.
“Um, so not Solas. Dorian. Varric. Or Cassandra, or Cole? Anyone in the Inquisitor’s inner circle. Take the horse. And seriously, keep this quiet. We don’t want to cause a panic.”
The soldier nodded and saluted and almost tripped over his own feet as he turned to mount the horse and ride back towards Skyhold, leaving Harding alone and still unsure what to do.
The Inquisitor looked so small. Her sobs had quieted, but her shoulders still shook and she was all curled around herself in a way that looked really uncomfortable on the hard ground of the trail. Harding finally settled on crouching down right next to her, almost but not quite close enough to touch, and kept watch.
She wasn't sure if she would be able to or was permitted to offer comfort. The Inquisitor was always so professional. But she could make sure she was safe. That was part of her job.
Minutes passed in relative silence. Harding noticed when the Inquisitor stilled then went stiff, lifting her head off her knees and surreptitiously wiping at her face while looking around her like she was seeing where she was for the first time.
Her expression slowly smoothed and calmed and it was like watching an actor putting on a mask. Harding wondered if this was normal, if every time she had seen Inquisitor Lavellan with her placid perfect persona, if it was just that. An act, a show, covering all the same ugly awful feelings that everyone facing this crisis was struggling with. Just, when you're the person in charge, the symbol everyone else is looking towards, you couldn't really afford to show any of that ugliness, could you?
Harding had figured that out when the soldier had sounded so scared upon seeing their leader falling apart, when she herself had felt so unsettled by what she was seeing. The Inquisitor must have figured it out a long time ago.
That realization made Harding terribly sad. It seemed so unfair, even if she was Andraste’s Herald. People needed to fall apart sometimes, and to have people around who could help them pull back together. She started to reach out, to put her hand on the Inquisitor’s shoulder or something, but stopped. It still felt inappropriate. Too forward and too familiar and what if she just ended up making things worse?
The Inquisitor - Keara, her actual name was Keara - didn’t say anything, but must have caught the movement out of the corner of her eye. She glanced at Harding and shot her a small, tight smile, as if Harding were the one in need of comfort and that made it all the sadder and all the worse.
They stayed there in silence until Dorian and Cole arrived. Harding stood up and moved to the side, trying to get out of the way. She was immensely grateful that there were people here now who were better equipped to help. Dorian went to the Inquisitor immediately, helping her to her feet and keeping much better control of his face when he got a good look at her than Harding had. “You were going somewhere with Solas tonight,” he muttered, frowning slightly.
The Inquisitor started tearing up again and Dorian immediately folded her in a hug. “Oh, I am going to kill him.”
Cole hung back, looking between Harding and the Inquisitor. “He hurt her. He didn’t want to. The love was barbed, getting too deep to pull out without pain and the last time someone loved him it changed everything. He doesn’t want her to be another regret.”
He then looked at Harding, smiling. “She knew you were here. Embarrassed, but grateful. So alone but not alone and it was enough.”
“Right,” Harding said, shifting her weight. “Good? I’m going to get back to my post, but I guess let me know if you need help. I’ll catch up with you later, Cole.”
Heading back to the lookout, Harding tried to sort through the uneasy tangle in her chest. She had done what she could. Kept things quiet, kept the Inquisitor safe, sent for people who were actually the Inquisitor's friends and would hopefully be able to help her. She also trusted Cole. If he said just being there helped, then that was something.
She just wondered if she should have - or could have - done more. Particularly after, once the breach was closed and the truth about Solas came out and Harding continued to work with the Inquisitor and her shrinking inner circle. There was a hollowness to her. Cracks in the mask and carefully hidden bleeding scars, and Harding wasn't sure if she could ever have done anything to prevent it, but she knew what taking on the role of “Inquisitor” had cost and she resolved to really get to know anyone else she worked for or with. Good and bad, she would see the people and not the position, no matter how important or untouchable. She hated seeing someone hurting and she hated not being able to help.
She also knew she would never forgive Solas.
II.
Elation. Utter, glorious, relief from the all consuming stress of the past few weeks washed over Harding as they pulled Rook out of the Fade prison. It didn't fix everything. They still had to rescue Bellara. They still had to stop Elgar'nan and Solas. They were still mourning Davrin and Assan, but it was a start.
Rook looked like she was in shock, staggering as Taash and Emmrich steadied her and Neve released the tear in the Fade. Lucanis was teary-eyed, staring at Rook as if he feared she would be whisked away a second time. He stepped forward, reaching for her and whispering her name.
Rook recoiled, jerking back out of Taash and Emmrich’s hands, away from Lucanis. She scrunched her eyes shut and fisted her hands in her hair, shaking her head. “No,’ she muttered. “No, no, no - not again. Not him. Get out of my head. Get out of my head!”
And then Rook, can-do, anything is possible, always making a joke in the face of minor inconvenience and existential horrors alike Rook stumbled to the ground and started screaming and Harding was a decade in the past, watching another fearless leader falling apart.
Everyone else froze. Of course they did. Nothing prepared you for the stark reality that your leader, your hope, was just as fragile as everyone else.
But this time, it wasn't a distant symbol shattering in front of her, it was her friend, everyone's friend. And Lace Harding was a decade older and a decade wiser, and had been determined from the beginning to do everything she could to keep Rook from ending up like the Inquisitor, lost in her role and dying in pieces without anyone noticing. Ignoring the licks of veilfire that were flaring around Rook, Harding kneeled in front of her. There would be no waiting around for someone else to help this time.
“Rook,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “Amara. You're safe, with your friends. Back in the lighthouse. We need you to talk to us, though. Tell us what’s wrong.”
Rook had frozen when Harding said her name, but was still a ball of tension, breathing way too fast with her eyes screwed shut. At least she had stopped screaming. “This isn't real,” she whispered. “None of this is real.”
The stomach dropping sensation in response to Rook’s words was familiar too. Harding heard Taash cursing behind her and the mages muttering something to each other. Lucanis had followed Harding's example and was also crouched down, but didn't move any closer to Rook. He had probably noticed the same thing Harding did, that reaching for her had set this off and Harding really hoped they weren't going to have a second breakdown to deal with in a moment.
Harding took a breath and made sure she was calm when she answered. “It’s real. We think you've been stuck in the prison Solas built to trap the Evanuris. I don’t know what you saw there, but this is real.”
Rook didn't move. Didn't reply. The veilfire still flickered around her.
Lucanis shifted next to Harding. “Rook -”
That got a response. Inhaling sharply, Rook opened her eyes and looked from Harding to Lucanis and back. Her face scrunched up, like she was going to cry or start screaming again.
So it wasn't the reaching for her that had been the problem. It was something with Lucanis. Harding caught the devastated look on his face and knew he had picked up on it too. Hoping she was right and this wasn’t about to make things worse, Harding reached over and grabbed Rook's hand, holding it tightly and pulling herself closer, forcing Rook to focus on her face.
Rook stared at her. There were tears streaking down her face and she opened and closed her mouth a few times before whispering “...Harding?”
Harding kept her grip on Rook’s hand. “Yeah.”
Rook’s hand twitched in hers. The veilfire sputtered and died down. “You’re…this is real.”
“Yeah.”
Rook flung herself forward, almost knocking them both prone. Harding pulled Rook into a tight hug. She could feel her friend shaking, her tears wetting her shoulder, and could see the questioning concerned looks on the others’ faces. Words messily spilled out of Rook, halting and strained. “This is - you’re real. But Varric wasn’t, he died and I didn’t - Solas made me think he was still here and now. I - I can’t do this. He’s still in my head. Now it's Lucanis - I can’t do this, I can’t.”
“Wait,” Harding said, pulling back a bit so she could see Rook’s face. Her eyes were wide, twitchy and manic as she glanced at Lucanis and flinched away. Harding could see him processing everything, though he seemed frozen in place, unable or unwilling to risk upsetting Rook more. They had known Solas was in Rook’s head, but the idea that he had been making her see Varric, making her think he was still alive, that was awful. There was absolutely going to be some messiness to deal with coming out of that. The other part, however, seemed like something they could fix right now.
Harding moved slowly, making sure she kept one of her hands on Rook as she deliberately reached to the side and grabbed Lucanis by the shoulder. “Lucanis is real too, Rook. I don’t - Varric died during the ritual and whatever Solas did after, we’ll figure it out, but Lucanis is right here.”
Rook gaped at Lucanis, eyes going impossibly wider. “I saw you die. I…” she reached out a shaky hand towards Lucanis and he took that as the permission it was and scrambled towards her, pulling her into his arms.
Harding stood up to give them some space. Rook was definitely crying again, but this was different. Tears of relief, of things being put back together, not of things breaking apart. Lucanis was glowing, wings a ghostly cloak curving around him and Rook both as Spite made his presence known too.
Elation. Exhaustion. This wasn’t exactly the reunion they had all hoped for, but Rook was home and seemed to believe it and Harding found herself strangely glad that her friend didn’t feel the need to hide that she was hurting.
“Blood magic,” Neve said, terse and angry, rubbing her forehead as she came to stand next to Harding. “I should have realized something else was there.”
Emmrich still stood on the other side of their small circle, looking at Rook through a field of green light suspended between his hands. “We know Solas is powerful, Neve,” he said, solemn and weary. “If anything, we should expect things to get past us.”
“Solas is an asshole,” Taash muttered, wrapping their arm around Harding. “Hey. You were really good at that. Helping Rook. That scared the shit out of me but you just dealt with it.”
Harding shrugged, smiling. “Just helping a friend,” she said. “I kinda wish I didn’t have any experience with this kind of thing, but…besides, Rook did the same for me, with the Titan stuff.”
“Yeah,” Taash said, tightening their arm around her.
And this didn't fix everything. Rook, still shaky, still clinging to Lucanis, was asking about Bellara and Davrin and Harding knew that would be just the next in a line of awful conversations they needed to have.
But Harding would see this through and do everything she could to make sure her friends made it to the other side in one piece.
And maybe before this was over, she'd have a chance to let the Dread Wolf know exactly what she thought of the hurt he had caused.
I remember when I finished GTN for the first time, when John tells Harrow that it's impossible to get Gideon out without destroying her...
I remember thinking he was a big fat stinky liar.
Now, having read the three available books... I just put it together. John is the one who told Harrow it was impossible to bring Gideon back, but who exactly put her back in her body?
Oh yeah, JOHN!
Lying piece of stinky shit. The lyctor gang had the right idea.
I started writing Delayed Harvest, my trans Kakashi fic, thinking it would be at 3k-4k words when I finished it. How a fool I was. I’m nearing 6k now and I think it’ll possibly be 6.8k-7k when I publish it.
Why it’s taking me so long to write it, besides the written expression disorder, is because I had several weeks of writer’s block. I did edit the fic during the block and had my beta reader go through what I had written so far. The fic wasn’t dead, just moving a bit slowly is all ^–^
