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Scarlett's Tale	By : lotusbalm Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Het - Male/Female Views: 5322 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to the Pirates of the Caribbean. Disney owns it. I make no profit off of this and no infringement is intended.

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Scarlett's Tale

By Tiri Lotus

Summary: Inspired by a painting inside the Pirates of the Caribbean ride in Disneyland, this is the tale of a redheaded noblewoman's descent into piracy after being sullied by a pirate and then auctioned off as a lowly buccaneer bride.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This idea has been rolling around in my head for quite a few years and the other day I was suddenly possessed to finally sit down and start typing it out. I've always loved the character that the imageneers at Disneyland had created of 'Scarlett,' the over-the-top gorgeous redhead who is being auctioned off in a scene in the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. There's also a painting in the ride of the same enchanting redhead, but she's changed into this impish looking pirate who does as she pleases and I've always been tempted by the story that's going untold there.
So this is my version of Scarlett. Hope you enjoy as I pay homage to the original character from the Disneyland ride! I mention the 'Scarlett' that is presented in the PoTC movies, but in my story she's just a Tortuga wench that copies the original Scarlett's look because of how infamous the curvy redhead is.

Scarlett's Tale

Chapter 1

The sun soaked into her deeply tanned shoulders.

Shoulders that, in a different life, had been a delicate cream porcelain.

For a moment Scarlett drifted into gossamer thoughts of when the fairness of her pale skin had seemed to have mattered. Lace parasols as intricately designed as snowflakes and shawls as soft as the finest Egyptian cotton had once sweetly protected her once-soft shoulders from the sun's harsh rays. Her shoulders, now golden and lithe, mostly went bare these days, and when they were covered – it was with shawls ratty and frayed from a combination of the salt-spray of the ocean, sun-bleaching, and the daily grind of being a pirate wench.

And oh what a grind it was being a pirate wench at this current moment, Scarlett thought, as she indelicately took a gulp of air while eye-ing the gallows. She was next to hang. The inky black 'P' tattoo on the inside of her wrist chaffed against the rusted iron cuffs clinking her hands behind her back.

Scarlett had definitely seen better days. But she also noted, rather morbidly, that she had almost most definitely seen worse days than this as well. Depending on one's perspective, and all that.

“Bring up the next one!” a scratchy, Cockney-accented voice shouted out. A minion of the East India Trading Co. who had bartered his freedom by ratting out on his fellow miscreants, no doubt.

Scarlett was roughly pushed up the rickety steps by one of those crisp white-wigged Royal Navy officers. She haltingly went up the last remaining weathered steps with an exaggerated sway to her luscious hips, giving her derriere a flounce so the Royal Navy officer behind her could get a good view of her tattered, ruffle-laced bottom, which she knew quiet well peaked out of her indecently short skirt at the right angle.

'Kiss. My. Arse... Because this will be the last you'll be seeing of it,' she silently thought as the predictable wolf-whistles and catcalls immediately erupted from the dingy and depraved prisoners from behind her.

The dirty faced and greasy-haired man who had called for her to come forth gave a despairing shake of his head when he gave her a good once-over and recognized who she was. “Not Scarlett,” he whined. “Hangin' Scarlett would be like destroyin' one o' the Seven Wonders o' the World.” Several of the ill-fated prisoners grunted their agreements with 'Aye!', 'We loves the redhead!', and 'Such a waste of perfect booty!'

Scarlett felt her heart warm a little to the prisoners. She gave them one of her most breathtaking smiles – the one she knew made even the most roguish men turn into stuttering schoolboys - while she tried to see if she recognized any one man in particular...

Nope. Not-a-one. But, then again, Scarlett had known so many filthy rotten scoundrels throughout her young life that it was sort of hard to keep 'em all straight. Her flaming red hair and ample assets had kept her a very popular wench throughout the Spanish Main afterall...

Scarlett's musings were abruptly cut short when she was led to stand over the trapdoor that would give-way on the platform once the noose was round her neck.

“A pirate is a pirate,” the Royal Navy officer said condescendingly to the crowd, as if talking to small children. He callously un-cuffed her and then whipped the looped rope round her head, pushing her infamous scarlet red locks out of the way so the rough rope was against the skin of her neck.

The Town Clerk started to read her crimes off of an official looking piece of parchment.

“Roselyn Fane – also known as 'Scarlett,' 'Red Handed Rose,' 'Mary Magdalene,' 'Red Ruby,' 'Sea Nymph,' 'Aphrodite's Pearl,' (the listing of assumed identities went on for a while) - for your willful commission of crimes against the crown, you will be hung by the neck until dead. Your crimes include: prostitution,” he started pointedly. “Arson, pilfering, perjury, forgery, consenting before God to a false marriage of convenience, and piracy,” he spat the last word out with venom. “May God have mercy on your soul.”

See, usually, right about now, Scarlett would have a snappy come-back ready for a sourpuss such as he, but at this moment she was too preoccupied with the fact that this was it - the jig was up – she was going to die.

In a matter of moments, as it were. She sucked in an unsteady breath – oh Gods it would be one of her last – and prayed to the Powers that Be that someone up there (whether it be Heaven, Paradise, Mount Olympus, Atlantis – whatever the hells bells it was up there) would indeed have mercy on her blackened soul.

The men near her backed away in preparation of her hanging. The Navy Officer who had led her up the steps gripped the lever that would trigger her decent into death.

'It's me, God. Roselyn. Just Roselyn. Not all the veiled monickers I go by. Just Roselyn. Remember me. Please,' she prayed with closed eyes as she prepared to fade from this world.

“Hold it right there!” said a Royal Navy officer just jogging on to the scene. He bent over at the waist when he reached them, dragging in lung fulls of air and waving around a parchment perfectly folded over and sealed in wax stamped with the elegant royal seal of the crown of England. “There's been a change of plans!” he gasped.

Scarlett's eyes shot open in surprise and relief at the interruption. However, as she inspected the newcomer, her black kohl smudged green eyes narrowed. She steadied the man's hands as he waved them about while he spoke. They were darkly tanned hands with long dexterous fingers, and they wove about in a strange, dreamy and oddly graceful way which was characteristic of only one man of the many, many men she had ever known.

It was Jack Sparrow.

She didn't know whether she should be relieved or if she should start praying for both of their blackened souls now.

She decided to just be a spectator to the scene and let it unfold as it was meant to. She was already at the noose. Things couldn't get any worse even if Jack's dramatic rescue attempt failed. 'Cept Jack could be hangin' with her. She could think of at least five crimes he was committing right at this very moment. She watched Jack ramble on in-eloquently and yet eloquently at the same time, as was his trademark. It was beyond her how he had managed to stash his mangy mane of hair into that pompous white wig.

…And his face was different yet recognizable to someone who knew Jack as...intimately as Scarlett knew him. His eyes were a bit rounder, and his lips thinner – not to mention that he completely lacked his trademark facial hair.

It had to be a glamor. Most likely it was the doing of that voodoo witch women Tia Dalma. That witch woman knew Jack rather intimately too, Scarlett thought bitterly. But Jack had seemed to put a lot of thought into this rescue attempt, and Scarlett had been buying a specially brewed potion from Tia Dalma for years as it were, so she really couldn't hold a grudge against the wicked captain and the witch woman...

And Jack had glamored his facial hair away just for Scarlett. Even if it was temporary - if one were privy to the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow on a personal level, one would know with no uncertainty that Captain Jack Sparrow did not do special favors for just anyone – especially favors that involved changing his rugged and manly appearance. Scarlett understood that this was a sign that he held some form of regard for her. And that was sort of sweet now, wasn't it? Perhaps if they lived through this she wouldn't slap him.

“By order of the Royal Crown, this maiden shall serve a different sentencing for the crimes she has committed... It seems she has friends in high places, if you know what I mean,” disguised Jack said as an aside to the Royal Navy officers with a smirk and a lascivious wink.

The Royal Navy officer who had pushed her up the steps quickly snatched the letter, opened it, and read its contents. With a grim line forming on his face he handed the letter back to Jack. “Very well. Release her,” he instructed the greasy-haired minion.

In a state of shock and awe, Scarlett barely heard the gleeful shouting of 'Hooray!' from the crowd and the grinning minion as he said he'd be saving up for a special visit with her once she had served her lighter sentencing. The rope was suddenly gone, and just like that - she was free.

“I will be escorting her to her holding cell while her passage to England is arranged,” disguised Jack said smoothly, taking her by the arm.

The Royal Navy officer dismissed them with a nod and turned to the next sorry soul who was to be hung. As Jack and Scarlett casually started to walk away Scarlett started to feel her conscious weighing her down with every step further that she took. She knew the person who was to be hung next. It was a beggar woman. She was sweet and harmless – just a bit touched in the head, not enough to be dangerous but just enough not to be able to function in normal society. Mostly she spent her days in a serene stupor, telling people who passed by her the color of their auras.

“Jack,” Scarlett whispered, all the emotion rolling out with just that one syllable.

He sighed heavily. “Fine. I'll do it. But I'll not be doing it because I've grown some sort of concussion or conclusion or conscious – or whatever that word is that good, law-abiding women and eunuchs like to say they have.” (Scarlett and he both knew he knew which word was correct.) “I'll only be doing it because that strapping, powder-puff of a gentleman offended me so. He forgot one of my personal favorite nicknames of yours... Red Hot Poke,” he said with a rakish grin and a waggle of his eyebrows.

Nope. She was so going to slap him after they saved these people.

She stepped on his foot with her heeled boot. “Lecherous cad,” she said sugary-sweetly while she commandeered one of his Royal Navy issued guns. They both pointed their weapons at the unsuspecting officers in perfect synchronicity, shooting each of the seven officers in quick succession. She at least aimed for their legs.

“Run!” Jack commanded all of the flabbergasted prisoners as the officers went down. They didn't need to be told twice. Chaos broke loose, with bullets whizzing through the air from the officers whose wounds weren't extensive enough to keep them preoccupied. Jack took Scarlett by the arm again and high-tailed it out of the gallows. They ran for the docks, where the Black Pearl awaited its captain. “Get in, get in, get in!” Jack bellowed, lifting her up by the rump as she started to climb the rope. Scarlett felt a pinch and she glared at Jack over her shoulder while Mr. Gibbs pulled her the rest of the way up. “Butterfingers,” Jack explained, unrepentant, as he was helped up by his first mate as well.

“My arse,” she replied.

“Yes,” he said, beaming out at the chaos ensuing on shore as they set sail. “The finest I've ever purposefully pinched.”

Slap!

It was long overdue after all.

“Ow,” Jack said, gingerly touching his reddening cheek. “Now come on! I couldn't possibly 've deserved that one! I just saved your life!” he said, pulling off the wig and shaking out his mane of snarled, ornament-filled hair. “Is this your way of tellin' me you need more 'slap' when we play 'slap 'n tickle' in my quarters?”

She ignored that last remark. “Thank you, Jack. You're my hero,” she said with an ironic smile.

“You are very, very welcome, Love. Any time. Repay me,” he said, shrugging his shoulders like he was a wholesome do-gooder, “however you see fit... In my bed...on my captain's desk...a table...against the railing...in the poopdeck.” He scrunched his brow at that last one. “Maybe not the poopdeck. It lacks a certain je ne se qua, don't you think? But then again – that's all up to you. Like I said. Repay me. However. You. See. Fit.” He emphasized these last words by vigorously polishing his sword. A bullet whizzed passed him.

Scarlett tried to scowl, but a smile cracked through and she threw her head back, laughing.

“There's my Roselyn,” he said with a satisfied smile, coming over to give her a hug. They were far enough away from shore that it was alright to relax now.

She welcomed his embrace, feeling an undeniable warmth and gladness to hear her real name from a familiar voice. She liked Scarlett – the name was a symbol of her liberated life as a pirate – but sometimes on those lonely nights when all her customers were long gone and she was all alone in her bed she wished to still be that sweet, delicate girl Roselyn; the fresh-faced maiden who had all the world on a string and many, many high-class suitors lining at her door.

But then there were moments like this, she thought, as Jack Sparrow pulled back slightly from their embrace so that he could get a good look at her. Moments when she was in the arms of the man who had both been her salvation and damnation - and these moments were good, too. If a little bitter-sweet.

“As breathtaking as ever, my sweet,” Jack said as he wound a finger around a lock of her rich red hair.

Scarlett pursed her plush lips and stared at him through her thick, dark eyelashes. “The same goes to you. Though I do rather fancy you better with your beard,” she said as she stroked his smooth chin.

“Ah, that,” he said warmly, cozying up to her even more now that she was being receptive-like. He pulled out a tiny pebble that had been on the underside of his tongue and his features suddenly morphed back to normal. “It was all for the cause. Couldn't let me favorite girl go to the gallows. This neck 's too precious,” he said, running one of those perfectly tapered and utterly devious fingers of his down along the skin of her golden neck and trailing it down to the curves of her breasts.

Feeling a wave of an age-old familiar feeling – true desire – reawakening in her being, Scarlett gave in for a moment, pressing her chest forward to accept his attentions. But as she did so she was met with dozens of pairs of eyes as Jack's buccaneer crew openly stared at them. They all looked new. 'Cept for Mr. Gibbs.

She lightly pushed against Jack's chest, hopping out of his personal space. “Oh how you flatter me so, Jack Sparrow,” she said flirtatiously, putting on a show. It was what she was good at. She was a performer, after all. “But we all know you say the most splendid things when you're after a pretty piece of flesh. Aren't you going to introduce me to everyone?”

Grasping at the air where she had once been, Jack turned to see her graciously introducing herself to the buccaneer crew – though it was superfluous because Scarlett truly did have a reputation just as infamous as Jack Sparrow himself. In a strangled voice he cut in, “Crew, Scarlett. Scarlett – crew. Everyone's good and introduced now. Savvy? Now,” he said, his voice taking on a deep, intimate quality. “Why don't we go into my cabin and,” he said, saddling up to her again and nodding his head in the direction of his cabin. He nimbly walked his fingers along her arm. “Catch up on old times. It's been ever so long since we've...connected.”

Scarlett grinned as she turned away from Jack and shook hands with a crew member who had a particularly egg-shaped head and a mouth full of brown teeth. This was how it always was between her and Jack. An ebb and flow of the volatile, tender, and oh-so-passionate. They knew their roles in this game of cat and mouse well. They'd been playing it since she was a tender maiden of sixteen.

The worldly pirate wench had seen twenty-five summers now.

“Hmmm...I dunno,” she said flippantly, curtsying to a wee little man. “I'm a bit weak with hunger at the moment, and after I've been fed I'd love nothing more than to get into a bath of scalding hot water to scrub off the grime of that wretched place,” she said, referring to the gallows of Port Royal, Jamaica.

“Splendid!” Jack said, wrapping an arm around her. “My cabin just so happens to be the destination for all of your needs and my desires!”

Scarlett shook her head and laughed at Jack's uncanny knack for unique witticisms. “I will see you all later,” she promised the buccaneer crew over her shoulder. They all made despairing sounds, not wanting to be deprived of the gorgeous redheaded beauty. She winked and blew them all a kiss. The midget tottered about weakly, almost fainting from her dazzling charm.

Scarlett quickly found herself in the captain's cabin, pressed up against the solid oak door that Jack had just closed behind them. Jack's kohl lined eyes smoldered as his gaze met hers. “How's about we kill two birds with one stone and I feed you grapes while you dally in the bath, my sweet tender morsel?”

“Why, Jack, we are in a hurry, aren't we?” Scarlett said with a grin. She wasn't letting on that she too was anxious to feel his flesh upon hers. She coquettishly ran her finger along the dark purple scalloped edge of her corseted bodice. The swell of her breasts pressed high within the gravity-defying cinched fabric. His eyes fell to the delightfully distracting flesh. Scarlett watched his eyes darken to almost black with an animalistic hunger.

“'S been over a year since I've had you,” he said. His voice was deep and roughened with barely restrained desire.

Scarlett's coy stare fell to a point on his chest. Her words were deceptively light. “That's not what I hear. Word has it that you've had many Scarletts up and down the Spanish Main.” She'd met one of her dopplegangers. A rather scrawny and sour-faced woman in Tortuga who bickered along with a woman who called herself Giselle. The thing about being an infamous pirate wench is that it attracted a lot of starving girls (and men) to take on her visage and pretend to be her.

“To me you are Roselyn,” he said, directing her gaze back to his by lightly putting a finger under her chin. His dark brown eyes looked almost soft in the filtering firelight from the candles burning in his dark cabin. He continued thoughtfully. “And to that same end there is no other Roselyn - just as I know that, no matter how many men you lay with, there is no other Captain Jack Sparrow,” he finished with a grin filled with gold teeth, leading her to his bath.

Scarlett let him lead her. His words made her quiet and unusually submissive. She thought in silence as she let him expertly remove her garments. The stiff laces that bound her corset were undone and she breathed a little easier as the fabric grew lax and was removed. She was in nothing but her ruffled-laced undergarments, garters and her laced up boots. She came back to herself and posed coyly for Jack when she noticed he just stood there admiring his handy-work for a moment. She plucked his weathered tricorn captain's hat off his head and impishly put it on her own head as she posed.

The hungry look in his gaze only deepened. He determinedly closed the small gap between them and lifted her up by her rump into his arms. It was effortless as her long legs wrapped around his waist and her 'Never kiss on the mouth' policy went straight out the porthole window. Their tongues melded in a tantalizing rhythm that was so very familiar yet new every time their lips met. Scarlett tasted sea salt and coconut and rum on his breath, and knew from experience that she tasted like 'mangos and green horizons' to him. She tangled her hands in the black silk of his snarled locks and he speared one hand into her fiery red hair while his other roughened hand slid under her garment and his dexterous pointer finger slid into her silken entrance.

“Oh, you're so ready for me, Love,” he groaned.

She moaned into his mouth while he started a building rhythm. Hot spikes of pleasure and inflamed need were fanned within her and she took the lead by sucking on his tongue as if it was a different appendage of his. He ripped away from her mouth with a moan, slipping his finger out of her femininity and grabbing her rump with both hands again and rocking her intimately into his heavy erection, which was trapped inside the fabric of his trousers.

“Let's get out of our clothes,” she gasped. “Take a bath with me.”

“Mmmm,” he moaned in approval, setting her down so that he could slip her ruffled undergarment down her legs. When he got down to her petite booted feet he made a comment about having her while she wore these boots – and only these boots – after they were done with their escapades in the bath. She agreed with an amused laugh while she stepped out of the boot he had unlaced. Soon she was completely bared before him and he had this funny look in his eyes. Well, certainly a funny look for the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow. It was a look that he'd also had in his eyes when he'd taken her innocence when she had been a tender well-born maiden.

It was as if his eyes were branding her, searing the word 'mine' into her flesh... But she knew it had to either be her imagination or a trick of the sultry lighting of the cabin because Jack Sparrow was not the type to truly commit himself to a lass. Soon Scarlett's thoughts were lost in the tidal wave of lust again as Jack kissed her and let his hands roam along her unclothed body. It was like battling an octopus to get him to focus his attention on undressing himself so that she could feast her eyes on him as well. Finally when he was out of his heavy boots, trousers, long-coat and all other things hampering her from his dark-gold and tattooed body they melded together in the tepid water in his bath; both of them in too much of a hurry to boil water. They slid together in a pounding rhythm. The cold water sloshed around in frantic little tidal waves, splashing their upper bodies and puckering the peaks of Scarlett's nipples even further as pleasure collided into her body with every tantalizing stroke of Jack's manhood sliding in and out of her. Their breathing was harsh as they held nothing back.

Jack was right – it had been so very long since they had had one another. Being entwined in this excruciatingly pleasurable rhythm with him once again reignited a euphoria in her body that left her veins singing. The way he made her feel made her desperate for more, as if his pleasuring were a drug. She moaned as he pushed into the very furthest depths of her. The white-hot pleasure wracked through her body and tightened her femininity around him. She tumbled over the edge into ecstasy.

Jack's manhood throbbed in acute, agonizing pleasure as he felt Roselyn's sweet little quim tighten and flutter around him. More blood rushed to his straining member, engorging him to an impossible fullness. He pistoned into her at a punishing pace, relentless, as his goal was to drive her silly with pleasure. He attained his goal as her sultry moan turned into a scream of ecstasy and she quaked beneath him. Jack felt the tell-tale heated pulse start within his loins, the sign of his pending release, and his own deep groan of ecstasy melded with her scream as he curled her hips up to receive him fully as he lent down on her heavily and came. Liquid fire sizzled out from his pleasure center into his entire body as his release over took him. His groan turned into a satisfied moan of 'Roselyn' as torrents of his seed burst forth from his engorged member and filled her hot, tight, silken depths.

Scarlett gently came back to earth as Jack's rhythm slowed to a sweet tickle as the last spurts of his seed filled her. She relaxed against the tub and stroked the snarls of his hair, which shone with droplets of water. He relaxed into the softness of her body, his lips curling up into a purely masculine smile of satisfaction. “The sweetest little rose blossom in all the seven seas,” he said, his voice a rough and tantalizing timber from the sex. He was still inside of her, and she felt him elongating once again. “How does the most sought-after maiden in all the land stay so tight?” he asked on a ragged breath, his rhythm building once again. “You truly are blessed by the love Goddess Aphrodite as the gossip-mongers tell it, Love.”

Scarlett threw her head back as the ebbing of pleasure reignited inside of her. Wry musings sounded off in her head. 'That, Jack, is because my reputation precedes me on all accounts. My life as a pirate wench allows me to be off to wherever I fancy, getting paid to lay with men throughout the lands of the Spanish Main – but I've only ever slept with one man. You. 'Course you'd never know that because all those men who have paid me to sleep with them think that they've had me and that's where all the gossip comes from. Like a siren's call they come to me and they think that they've crashed into my shore – but it's all just a lucid dream. But again, how could you have ever known that? I'm certainly unwilling to tell.'

The most sought-after wench raked her fingernails down her lover's back. She knew well that it turned him on. He hissed in pleasure and picked up his pace. “I'm not the only one whose blessed between the two of us,” she whispered into his ear, referring to his virile-ness.

He chuckled darkly and pistoned into her even harder. They stayed locked together for hours, undulating in different positions. All of which he had taught her. But again – that was something that he would never know.

The crew heard every cry of pleasure in their captain's cabin and that certainly enforced her fabricated reputation. She stayed on the Pearl with Jack for four weeks before she felt it was high time to be on her merry way again. This was how it always was. Girls got jealous of her because of her popularity among the men and some little birdie would end up whispering into an authoritie's ear Scarlett's exact location. She felt enough time had blown over and told Jack to let her off at New Providence. He did not appear to like this suggestion in the least because New Providence was a rickety shanty-town of an island that pirates went to to have massive orgies.

“You know you're welcome to stay on The Pearl, Love,” he suggested quietly, as he gazed out at what seemed an endless expanse of crystal blue waves of water. He turned to look at her as he said the next bit. “You can stay on as my--” But at her narrowed green gaze he turned back to look over the railing. Good. She didn't want to hear him delegate her to one of his crew men. Because she knew that's all she'd ever be to him. He was like the rolling sea. An endlessly fluxing and never settling expanse of wonder. She supposed a bit of his personality had rubbed off on her because of all the years of knowing him. She felt the itch to move on.

'Course that could also be because – and she would never admit this even to herself - that the longer she stayed with him the more she didn't want to leave.

“Right,” he said, a grin forming on his face as he looked at her again. The setting sun cast a gold glimmer around the edges of his form. “What was I thinking trying to keep a free spirit like you confined? We'll make a stop at New Providence. I've been denying those sorry sods of the most radiant angel to touch down from heaven, haven't I? Not that they deserve such a creature as you. Not that I deserve such a creature as you. But then again – pirate. I'm obsessed with treasure.”

Scarlett nodded, as if she was able to follow along. She didn't see how treasure had anything to do with his little soliloquy. Probably just an embellishment to his pretty words he waxed on every woman he came across. “Thanks, Jack,” she said, brushing his arm as she made her way over to play Pirates' Dice with the crew.

His eyes followed her form as she walked away, a brief glimmer of something that looked a lot like somber flashing in his eyes. But then again this was the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow, so more than likely it was just a trick of the waning twilight.

Scarlett got off the ship with black sails at her stop. She wouldn't see Jack again for quite some time. There were stories she heard here and there of his doings that she was sure were sensationalized. Helping a blacksmith save his lady love, the heart of Davy Jones, the Kraken, dying and coming back to life, the Goddess Calypso... All purely sensationalized like her own reputation she was sure of it. That is, she thought it was all poppycock - until she got into her next spot of trouble and came across Jack again. Something in his eyes had changed...

To be continued...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Feedback is gladly welcomed! :)
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Scarlett's Tale