Ash

Lace Harding woke with a gasp. Just a dream. A nightmare. She was sure she would never get used to this. After the ordeal inside the Titan, her nightmares of being chased by her own shade had faded, and she'd hoped that would be the end of it. That she could go back to dreaming about strange things like tomatoes, and forgetting to wear pants, or Neve stealing her snacks.

Or the good ones. About Jericho. The ones where she could touch him without hurting him. Where they were happy.

But instead, her old nightmares had been replaced with a memory she didn't wish to keep reliving. Especially when it took such an awful turn.

With a heavy sigh, she untangled herself from her bedroll and stretched as she came out from under her little canopy. It was hard to tell what time it was in the Lighthouse, but she had a feeling it was still late. That most would still be asleep. Or shut in their rooms downing cups of coffee to avoid it.

Hopefully, Jericho wouldn't mind if she disturbed his rest.

She walked across the eerily silent courtyard, through the library, and to his door. Slowly easing it open, she peeked inside to just barely make out his form beneath the blankets, softly illuminated by the blue light of the fish tank that made up the far wall. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths as he slept peacefully.

Harding smiled at the sight, knowing that he'd been struggling to sleep on that sofa Solas had left in the room, and that he'd been much happier after the Caretaker anticipated his needs and somehow rearranged the room to accommodate an actual bed. He'd asked her why she didn't have one in her own space, but she was happy with her cozy little corner. It felt like camping. Like home.

She hated to wake him from his much needed, and well-deserved rest, but he had told her that she could always seek him out if she needed him, no matter the time.

"Jer?" she whispered softly from the doorway, careful not to startle him.

"Hmm?" A groggy, muffled voice sounded from within the blankets as a tousled and tired head lifted to squint in her direction. "Lace? Are you alright?" he whispered, his voice still thick with sleep.

"Sorry, to wake you… I just, had a nightmare," she mumbled softly. "Didn't want to be alone."

"Come here." Jericho shifted to make room for her, careful to leave enough distance that they wouldn't accidentally touch, and settling a spare pillow between them as she crawled into bed beside him. They had made a bit of a habit of this arrangement on nights when one or both of them couldn't sleep well on their own.

She gave him a sad smile as she looked at the accommodations and sighed, making herself comfortable amongst the soft pillows and blankets. Different, than what she was used to, but not unwelcome.

"Sorry, I know it's not ideal…" Jericho muttered, noticing where her eyes had fallen. "But I figure it's better than sleeping apart all the time."

"It is," she nodded. "And I'm gaining more control every day… so it won't be forever." Eventually, once she could get a handle on her lyrium powers, and was able to touch him freely without fear of poisoning him, they could finally remove this barrier between them, and maybe every night could be spent together.

He smiled softly and laid back down, turning on his side to face her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Lace rolled over to face him as well, settling her hand on the pillow that separated them. "The nightmare? It was awful… different. Than the ones from before."

"From before the Titan?" he frowned, brow creasing with concern.

"Yeah, in those, I was being chased, or hunted… those stopped." Her nose wrinkled a bit. "This was like… a memory. But wrong somehow."

Jericho brought his hand to rest beside hers on the pillow between them. "What happened?" he asked softly.

Closing her eyes, she sighed and tried to collect her thoughts. "It was that moment, when I was trapped and all I could feel was the rage. When I almost lost myself…" She suddenly grew quiet.

"What went wrong?" Tentatively, he brushed his fingertips lightly against hers, waiting for any sign that he should pull away. When none came, he left them there. A small comfort to let her know he was there.

"You weren't there," she whispered. "There was no one… I was alone with all of that pain and anger. I waited. I knew you were supposed to be there, to tell me to remember myself." A faint sniff betrayed the hurt she was trying to suppress. "Then the cavern caved in and everything went black. That's all I can remember."

"Lace, I know nightmares like that are overwhelming, and painful. I've had them too." With a deep breath, he let his outstretched fingers caress hers more intentionally, desperate to offer even the slightest bit of comfort when all he wanted to do was hold her close. "But I'm here for you. Always. I promise I'm not going anywhere."

She watched their hands apprehensively for a moment, smiling when she realized she was still in control. "You're sweet, Jer." Looking up to meet his serene blue eyes, she blushed. "How did you know what to say? To save me?"

"I didn't," he admitted as a small flash of worry crossed his features. "I was terrified for you. Every bit of magic I know failed me in that moment. I didn't know anything that could separate you from the Titan's grasp… all I could do was hope that words would get through when nothing else could."

"You're Lace Harding. You're more than this rage." She repeated his own words back to him with a sad smile. "That was hard for me to believe at the time. But you knew exactly what I needed to hear."

The smile he gave in return was fragile as his voice fell to a whisper. "I know what it's like, to lose myself to rage. Be consumed by it. I couldn't watch that happen to you."

"You've never really talked about… I'm sorry, you don't have to." Lace's gaze was apologetic, but still curious.

"It's alright," he assured. "Being possessed by Rage… it felt like I was burning, from the inside out. I only wanted to destroy everything around me, everything that was hurting me. Watch it all go up in flames…" Jericho's voice trailed off. Something haunted remained in his eyes. "Is that what it was like for you?

She was silent for a moment, thoughtful. "Yes, kind of. But less like burning. It was hot, but more like the heat from something… deep within the earth. From the stone. Not fire."

He nodded in understanding. "I thought it might be something like that." Slowly, he let his fingers thread between hers. Still safe. "But you're so much more than that anger."

Lace stared at their nearly entwined hands and smiled.

Jericho followed her gaze to their hands before raising his eyes to study her face. Your compassion was one of the first things I noticed about you. When we met." His words were soft, full of something like awe. "It's something I needed in my life. Why it was so easy to become your friend. And one of the many reasons I fell for you." Why I love you. "I didn't want you to lose that."

"Aw, Jer." Her eyes crinkled at the corners when she looked up at him, her smile soft, happy. But a worry still lingered in her eyes. "But… sometimes… I still feel angry. And I don't know what to do with it."

"You can let yourself feel it, Lace," he reassured. "Express it. Talk about it. Write it down. Scream about it if you need to." He closed his fingers, fully taking her hand. "But it doesn't have to control you. You don't have to be consumed by it."

Her eyes glowed blue for a just a moment, but she quickly gained control, watching Jericho to make sure he hadn't been affected. "Thank you," she whispered. "For being here."

"Of course, Lace. Always." He smiled. Her eyes were growing heavy. She was calm, sinking back into sleep. He squeezed her hand.

Sleepily, she murmured, "do you think it's okay to fall asleep like this? I don't want to let go."

"I think so," he whispered. "I trust you, Lace. Get some rest, I'm right here."

Her eyes drifted shut. "Sweet dreams, Jer."

Jericho pressed a gentle kiss to her hand wrapped in his. "Goodnight, Lace."

@davrinsleftpectoral @woundedsoul12 @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @chaosherald @jenn2d2 @hedwigoprah @sorcerousadventurer @zennihilation @serialsforbellara @mushrooms-x-moss @jukkaricity @himluv @biowaredisasterbisexual @mageofquandrix @littlemissgeek8 @kogarashi-art @himluv @serensama @necromanticsoul @pixiedurango @maagisterpavus @angelsndragons @wolfmoonwildflowers @curiouswisp @picathartidae @rooks-dagger @notyourmamasdeerbat @thatgaymerguyb @handsignals @julie-spirit-finn @the-archons-moustache @dudewheresmynug @tevivinters @lycheecatee @viagosbrother @mikilavellan @redaresss

"Are you my very best friend?" a small tinny voice had asked, at odds with the rough plastic 'stone' and shiny jewels rendered in plastic with a degree of detail she had never seen in a toy. The replica golem's eyes, collar and armor gems always flashed red in time with her voice. "Of course, silly," Lace had answered, smiling and hugging the doll tight. She had always felt a connection to the doll, even when her mother had told her it gave her the willies something fierce. "We'll always be best friends!"

"Well, that promise didn't last," Lace looked down into the box she'd pulled out from under her childhood bed, wrapped up in string, packing tape, and for some reason, a very length of red ribbon. She supposed that even if she didn't want any chance of anyone opening the box, she had still wanked Rinka to look nice while she slept.

If Rinka did ever sleep. There was no world where Lace could think of her as a mere toy, when she had been so much more. Even now, she could hear that voice in her mind. Encouraging. Loving. Supportive.

Filled with rage.

"I just need you to help me understand, sweet pea," Lace had looked up into her Ma's big eyes and had just withered. Instead, she had looked down at her shoes, splattered with blood that had just started to dry. She hadn't known how to answer, how could she? Rinka had always done the talking. "Tell me what happened, Lace," she had felt her Ma's gentle touch under her chin and had looked up again too fast. Too defiant. But Ma had just frowned, and kept her gentle hold in place. "I have to explain things to Murdoch. He's waitin' on your words before judging." "Rinka said—" "Lace, no," Ma's eyes had hardened as they shifted to the small golem held in her arms, and had gone back to her own. Softer, but with a stone behind them that Lace had learned meant no funny business. "I thought that Rinka would be a good friend for you when I was busy, honey. But even I can't keep Redcliffe Estates in tip top shape when you break the nose of the building supervisor's son for no reason. You did have a reason, sweetheart?" "He's just so mean," Lace had remembered wailing, but her voice had been strange in her throat. Almost like two voices. "He pushed me and— then.. and my dress at school. The pencils! And he was going to burn Rinka!"

Staring back at her was the doll. It had the smell of old plastic now, like slightly sweet melted rubber. The jeweled armor and eyes, once glittering rubies in her imagination, were dull with ages, and small scratches on the surface. The glow from inside long since burned away. The telltale dust of corroded batteries splattered along the bottom of the box, staining the cardboard the deep reddish brown of dried blood.

But they'd removed the batteries from the doll. And the controller.

Lace almost reached forward to be sure as her stomach clenched as her own blood ran cold, but pulled her hand back as footsteps approached.

"Did you find it?"

Ma looked at her from the door, a bit more gray and a lot more relaxed than she remembered her from when she was little. Her eyes fell on the box, and Lace could see her sigh, and just the smallest bit of tension clinging to the corners.

"She isn't good for you, Lace," her Ma had said gently as she sat her down on her bead. Murdoch had been firm, but forgiving. He was going to have a word with his son Alec, and they had both agreed that some apologies were due from the boy once his face wasn't quite so swollen. She had remembered feeling bad when Ma told her he couldn't even go to his birthday party at Nug E Cheese next week. "It wasn't wrong to fight back, I want you to know that. But when someone is down, you need to fight your own anger next." "Rinka said we needed to make sure he stayed down," Lace had looked down into Rinka's eyes, pulsing red, their glow barely visible in the bright room. "And it just made me so mad." "I know," Ma had given her a kiss on her forehead, and then slipped her arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. Her voice had been thick like the closed feeling Lace had felt any time she cried. "You must have been pretty scared."

"Yeah, right where I remembered her," Lace gave her a smile, the tug of something worrying at the back of her mind. "I'd almost forgotten. What made you remember?"

"Oh, Murdoch asked about her," Ma took the box from her hands, and put the lid back on, firmly enough that the edge of one corner tore a bit. "I guess Alec asked about it the last time he was home, said he wouldn't set foot back in the place, remodel or not, if she was anywhere nearby."

"Really? Not me? I'm the one who broke his nose in three places."

"No," Ma said, waving the box with a laugh as they moved into the hallway. All around, the place was either stripped clean, or furniture swathed in protective tarps, waiting for the workmen to come through for the big remodel starting tomorrow.

"Alec still swears it was Rinka. Said your eyes both started glowing weird and then she beat the Maker out of him with her tiny fists."

They do not know. The children of dust cannot know. We are stone. We protect. We are rage. WE ARE.

"What was that, Lace?" she shook her head against the ringing in her ears, the feeling of her braids swinging against her neck and shoulders like a pat on the back. Her Ma was at the door of the apartment giving her a quizzical look.

"Oh, nothing, Ma," Lace smiled, that cold place in her stomach just a distant itch. "Just looking forward to having you both at my place for a bit. I'm glad Redcliffe is finally getting spruced up."

"Both of us?"

"You and Rinka, of course!"

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——

"That was a nasty fall. You all right, Rook?"

Davrin sheathed his sword and jogged over to where Calliope was definitely not pouting, collapsed on a sand dune on Rivain's beach. Shoved off one of the ruins scattered across the shoreline, she'd had the wind knocked out of her mid-fight. Thankfully, Davrin and Harding had been there to clean up the rest of the mercenaries that had ambushed them, so she was free to catch her breath.

"I'm fine," She groused, sitting up. "Except for the fact that now I'm going to be gritty for the rest of the day." She scratched her head and scowled at the sand that started falling out of it.

Davrin huffed a laugh, offering her a hand to pull her to her feet. "We can call it quits, you know. It's not like that Warden cache is going anywhere."

With a gusty sigh, she accepted the offered hand. "Yeah but if we leave it too long, Isabela might yank it out from under u—ow!" She hissed as she rested her weight on her right leg. Apparently her unfortunate landing had more consequences than she realized.

"What's wrong?" Davrin was in her space immediately, hands under her elbows, keeping her upright. "Where does it hurt?"

"I'm fine," She snapped back quickly, pulling back from him, "My leg just didn't like how I landed. Just need to walk it off."

Davrin looked at her dubiously but didn't argue. "We should probably head back to the Lighthouse."

Harding jogged over, having finished her scan of the area to make sure there weren't more mercenaries lurking about. "What's this about going back to the Lighthouse?"

"Rook might have hurt her leg—"

"I'm fine Harding, Davrin's just being a worrywart." Calliope rolled her eyes. "The fortress isn't that far."

Harding glanced between the two of them, an uncertain look on her face. "Rook, maybe we shouldn't be scaling walls if you're—"

"I'm not made of glass! I can handle a little fall!" Pushing past them, she started making her way back up the beach, her ankle and knee twinging in protest with every step.

She heard jangling and clinking from behind her as Davrin jogged to catch up. "Yeah no, that limp is obvious. We're going to have Emmrich take a look at it. I'll carry you back myself if I have to."

He meant it as a threat to get her to turn around, but two could play at that game. "Promise?" She glanced at him sidelong, a teasing glint in her eye.

He raised an eyebrow at her for a beat of silence, then suddenly she was being lifted off the ground and cradled against his chest.

She squawked at the indignity, pouting deeper when she heard Harding's laughter from behind them. She hadn't expected him to take the bait.

More the fool she.

"Your armor is stabbing me in the side."

"Your fault for being stubborn. You're lucky I can't just sling you over my shoulder without hitting you with my shield."

"I wish Assan was big enough to carry me."

"You and me both."

xx. judgment - omana cousland viii. strength - garrett hawke xiii. death - russ lavellan xv. the devil - lorraine "rook" mercar

Keeping in my own tradition I’m posting trading cards on day one! I love getting photos of Harding but because she’s a wields a bow her action shots don’t often totally fit in the card shape 😔

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Masterpost for all the trading cards is HERE