A/N: Tadaa! Another chapter! And it didn't take a year to finish! WOHOO! BIG WIN. No, but seriously.. what have I been doing? Silly me. Here's another chapter. I will pray to Odin and Thor and Freyja and Frigg and Ra and Athena and Allah and God and Avo and Skorm and my almighty Grandmother that it won't take a year to finish another chapter again! Peace, love and understanding!

Enjoy!

A Valiant Heart

Chapter XXXV

The following days were rather curious. The unsettling feeling of being watched did not seem to pass, day or night, and eventually, Mary had experienced that very same feeling. That was when Wolfsblade, Beck, Hammer and I decided it was time to change strategy altogether. The Hero, however, was the only one who knew of my personal anguish. If John realised I had told the Hero about him—or anyone, for that matter—he would expose me as Scarlet Rogue for the entire city. Now, that was indeed a hefty price to pay. Nevertheless, if it stood between the life of my best friend and the secrecy of my alter ego, the choice would not be very difficult to make.

Mary and I had barely begun working that particular day when I suggested I would teach her how to protect herself, should such a skill be needed.

Mary stared at me. "I beg your pardon? You want to teach me… how to defend myself? How do you mean?"

"Physically, of course," said I.

"You can do that?"

"Well, yes!" I knitted my brows. "I have fought a Balverine, you know."

"Yes, but I'm not strong and skilful like you, Ariana," Mary objected. "I would never stand a chance against John—I'm assuming this is about him?"

I sighed. "Mary, trust me, strength is not the key. Quickness of mind is."

Mary seemed puzzled.

"Let me put it like this," I started. "If you are, well, forced into an alleyway where a wall blocks the one way and John the other: what would you do?"

Mary thought about it for a moment before she nodded. "I would shout for help."

"Yes," I replied. "Shouting for help is a good thing. That is important. However, you have to remember that anything that could compromise his ambitions will probably be his first priority. It is very likely that he would try to cover your mouth before you could scream. Then what would you do?"

Mary sighed. "I don't know."

I nodded. "The most important thing is to never give up without a fight. Focus on his weaknesses: crotch, eyes, ears, hair, nose, hands… anything that hurts. Don't try to hit him in the chest, because that won't work. If he's got your arms and hands in a hold, use your legs and feet and mouth. Bite him, kick him, do whatever you can to get away."

"What if he…" Mary started silently, but did not finish.

"'What if he' what?"

Mary swallowed. "What if he catches me from behind? What if he pins me down on the ground?"

"You fight dirty," I answered. "Grab whatever you can; rocks, sand, dirt…" I then clenched my jaw. "I know it sounds frightening and I know it might sound rather impossible, but in the spur of the moment, you will be stronger than you think. Adrenaline is a powerful thing, Mary, but quickness of mind could be the difference between life and death. That's why I want to teach you some useful things."

She then nodded. "Yes, alright. But when?"

"Tonight," said I.

"Where?"

"Here," I replied. "After we lock up, we start."

"But we're not working tonight," Mary pointed out.

"Mr Wolfsblade won't mind," said I.

And so it was: after the evening's festivities, Mary and I remained in the tavern. I had told the Hero about my plan to teach Mary how to defend herself—a brilliant idea, according to him—and we began small. I taught her a few tricks and told her to do some physical training at any chance she got. Afterwards, I walked her home and then went to meet the Hero for my own training, followed by a few hours as Scarlet Rogue. My days were suddenly filled to the brim, leaving little to no time for anything else.

The Hero and I gradually advanced, both in training and in trust, and after a week or two I was certain I had never thought of Mr Wolfsblade as much as a friend as I did then. It was a peculiar feeling: ever since I learned his real name, I seemed to be able to see through the exterior. I had always known he was but a man of flesh and blood, but I had not been able to truly see it until now.

"How's Mary doing?" he asked when we were finished for the evening.

"Much better," I said. "She is getting the hang of it."

"That's good," he sighed. "How about you? How are you, truly? You seem so worried."

I sighed heavily. "I am worried. I'm worried about Mary, I'm worried about myself, I'm worried about the city… I won't stop worrying until we find John."

He grunted. "You're right. It's been more than a fortnight now… how can we even be sure he's still in Bowerstone?"

"I'm sure he is; you didn't see his face."

"No. No, I didn't."

"But we'll find him," I said determinedly as I prepared myself to leave. "I'll find him, and I'll make him pay for what he's done."

"Don't be reckless, Ariana," Wolfsblade warned and gently grabbed my arm. "We know very little of this. In fact, we know nothing of it."

I let myself gaze silently into his grey eyes for a bit longer than necessary, a mistake I was fully aware of; my belly began fluttering relentlessly. "But you have taught me well, have you not?"

He formed his lips around a word, but no sound escaped him. Instead, he diverted his eyes and cleared his throat. "Well, yes. But I still want you to be careful."

"And I will be, I promise. Now, good night." I took his hand in mine and gave a comforting squeeze before I left him on the field. The fluttering was still raging through my belly, causing me to curse through gritted teeth. "You are pathetic, Ariana! Stop it! You made your choice, now live with it!" It was a frustration that had been building up inside of me for the past few weeks, a frustration with myself and my indecisiveness; I did not know how I felt, about anything anymore. I did not know how I felt about Garrett, about the Hero, about myself, about my life… big questions had recently started to circulate inside my head, questions about what I wanted to do with my life and what I was doing with it. Garrett had been generous in his depictions of the world lately, awaking a desire inside of me I did not know existed. I wanted to see the world, that much I had always known, but I did not know the desire to do so would be this strong at the modest age of barely nineteen. My life had just begun, and yet I felt this inscrutable fear that I would not experience all the things I wished to experience in life.

My soul was restless.

Perhaps the thrill of lurking danger was the only thing that kept me from losing my mind and perhaps that was the reason I time and again kept wondering to myself whether or not Garrett was the right choice. He was indeed an explorer at heart, but he was not an adventurer; he was full of fight and spirit, but he fought with words, not with swords; he was intellectual and deeply philosophical, but he was not weathered and hardened by life. Wolfsblade, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. While he was not as travelled as Garrett might have been, nor as fond of politics, he certainly was hardened by life and loss. A young man had once torn the head of a Balverine with his bare hands and thus claimed the name of Wolfsblade as his own. The very same man had later spent ten years inside a prison, working for the man he sought to kill, his sister's murderer; he had passed through the Veil of the Dead and returned, stronger than ever. It was hard to ignore the peculiar curiosity the Hero awakened inside of everyone he met—including me—and it was easy to compare any other person to him, which was horribly unfair.

I had gone through the same things over and over in my own mind, and yet, none of it seemed to make any sense to me. I was as uncertain as ever.

The days went by. Soon enough, they turned to weeks. The Games were soon coming to an end and John had still not been found. I was not even certain he was still in Bowerstone. Mary and I continued practicing and I had taught her how to use a knife, and to my surprise, she was quite good at using it. It was evident she felt much safer with her newly acquired skills, which in turn made all of us feel much safer as well. At least, we did not have to worry about her being defenceless.

But one day, Mary acted rather curiously. She had been awfully quiet the whole day and when our shift was over, she barely said goodbye before we parted. Knowing this was quite unlike her, I confessed my worries to Mr Wolfsblade. In return, he promised to keep an eye out for anything suspicious. After some consideration, we decided not to practice that night, but to keep the city safe.

As soon as the dark fell, Scarlet Rogue was allowed out onto the streets. I kept to the rooftops, as always, but I was not as interested in the whole of the city as I was in Old Tow—Mary's house, in particular. It looked serene; a candle was burning in the kitchen, shadows moved slowly back and forth, and as the clock struck ten, the lights were put out and the house seemed to fall asleep. I kept my eyes on the house for another hour or so, but it did not seem to stir. Eventually, I decided it was time to move along, but just as I was about to slip into a dark alleyway, a hooded figure came rushing from Mary's garden. Alarmed, I followed.

The figure was not that of a man, and as it passed underneath a lit street lantern, I thought I could briefly see a brown lock of hair peek out from underneath the hood. The woman then headed towards one of the abandoned warehouses, spied around for witnesses and then entered. I knew there was a latch on the roof leading to a loft, so I snuck around the building to climb up a ladder. It was a rather tall building but I hurried at much as I could. Once atop the roof, I quickly found the latch and slipped into the loft as quietly as I possibly could. I landed in soft hay, and below, I could hear hushed voices.

"I hope you weren't followed," said a man. To my horror, I recognised the voice as none other's than John's.

"I wasn't." The female voice belonged to Mary.

I had to collect myself before I did something regrettably reckless and slammed a hand over my gasping mouth.

"Do you have what I asked of you?" John asked.

"There will be no deal," said Mary, her voice barely trembling. "I will not be frightened by you anymore."

John laughed. "Sweet girl, I think you've misunderstood. You give me what I want, and I don't hurt you."

"I won't do it, and if you think you can force me, then know that I am on very good terms with both the Hero and Walter Beck, the soon-to-be Champion. I will tell them of your wicked plan, whatever your plan is, and then you will be sorry!"

Suddenly, my heart skipped a beat. What were they talking of? What plan? Carefully, I climbed towards the edge—I could see nothing from where I was. Mary had removed her hood. She looked rather calm, but I could see she was holding her body in the same position I taught her to when using a knife, so at least she had been clever enough to bring it with her. John was tense as he paced back and forth without taking his eyes off the girl.

"You want to tell the Hero, do you?" he asked mockingly as he stopped his pacing.

"Yes, and why should I not?" Mary answered. "Give me one good enough reason not to, or else you will face the gallows in the morning—if you're lucky."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk… empty threats are fruitless, sweetheart." He resumed his pacing. "I thought I told you what would happen to you if you didn't do as I asked?"

"I will not be afraid," said Mary. Her voice had started to shake, only a little, and her stance had weakened.

John noticed her insecurity and took a step towards her with a grim smirk. "Where does this come from? I like your new feisty self."

With a gasp, Mary pulled a knife and took a step back. "Don't come any closer!"

John chuckled in surprise. "Well, well, you are daring!" He moved forward again, but Mary was faster. A quick movement of her arm caused John to roar in pain as he put a hand on his shoulder where her knife had sliced him. The wound, I could tell, was only a fine one—the knife had barely broken the skin—but fire lightened John's eyes. With the back of his hand, he struck the girl down. The knife skidded across the floor.

I could not wait for another second and jumped from the loft, landing just behind Mary. Not bothering drawing my sword, I leaped over the fallen and startled girl, and swung a fist towards John. He did not try to evade me and received the blow without much grace.

Groaning, he nearly fell to the ground. "You little bitch, where did you come from?!"

"Call me what you wish, you coward, but you have laid hand on Mary too many times now! It is time for you to pay!" I forced my leg out as a projectile and the sole of my boot hit the man in his chest, making him reel backwards. He landed on his back, clutching his arms around his torso. His breath was shallow, his knees were raised. Blinded by rage, I pulled my pistol, cocked it and aimed it at his head. "You're a vile, abhorrent, evil man! I should spare us all the misery and kill you right here, right now!"

"S-Scarlet Rogue?" Mary's quiet chirp petrified me. She did not know it was I, Ariana.

Without taking my eyes off John, I softly told her to stay back.

"Don't do it," she pleaded. "Please, Miss, don't do it! He should face a trial!"

John's face twisted from pain and despair to scorn, blood seeping from a corner of his mouth. "'Miss'? Oh, so you haven't told her then, have you?"

I clenched my jaw. "You can't escape me now, John. Stop it with your games, I will have the truth out of you before morning."

"Truth? You are scolding me about truth?" he spat. "Isn't there something you would like to tell that girl? Your best friend?"

I tightened my grip around my pistol, leaned in closer, more determent than ever to kill the man, when Mary said, "what do you mean?"

John and I gazed hatefully into each other's eyes as he replied her: "Scarlet Rogue, my sweet Mary, is in fact your dear friend Ariana. Didn't she ever tell you? And she is supposed to be your friend? Best friend, even? Tsk, tsk, tsk. Hiding a secret that big? That is not what I call a 'best friend'."

My otherwise so steady hand was trembling; my heart was hammering violently in my chest; my throat was drying—understanding as Mary might be, this was perhaps too much for her.

A tense silence hung heavily over the three of us before Mary's painful whisper broke it, saying, "Ariana?"

My breath was heavy as I said nothing. John's cruel smirk widened, and I angrily gripped the pistol so tight, my knuckles whitened.

"Is it true?" Mary asked, just as silently.

I kept quiet for another moment while bitter tears stung behind my eyes.

"Is it really you?" Her soft voice broke into sobs and I heard her rise.

I clenched my teeth together so tightly, I thought I would crack them. I did not want to show myself vulnerable in front of John, lest he would win.

"Why won't you speak?" Mary cried.

I bit my tongue, but in vain: I could no longer keep my remorse to myself. "Mary, I'm so sor—" In that brief moment of weakness, my focus had shifted and John took advantage of it. Kicking my pistol out of my hand, he managed to rise from the floor and escape through a barred window. I sprinted after him, through the window and out onto the streets of Old Town, but he had already disappeared into the night. I ran for a mere minute before I knew there was no point in doing so. John had escaped me. Disappointed, I hurried back to the warehouse, but Mary had already gone. I desperately looked for her as I once again ran through Old Town, but she was nowhere to be found. In the end, I turned to the Hero's house, to tell him that John was still in Bowerstone and that there was a plan, a plan Mary had been dragged into and that she might be in danger.

I arrived at his door and banged loudly, hoping it at least would be loud enough to wake Shadow and make him bark. The door, however, was opened almost immediately. I was faced by Mr Wolfsblade, only in his nightshirt and breeches.

I took a shallow breath. "Mary might be in danger! We have to find her!"

"You'd better come in," said he softly, much to my surprise. He stepped out of the way, revealing Mary sitting by the table.

I stared at the girl who would not look at me. "Mary?" I breathed as I crossed the threshold and removed my mask. "Mary, are you hurt? How is your cheek? Did he slap you hard?"

"I'll manage," she said hoarsely.

"Mary told me about the encounter and John's plan," said Mr Wolfsblade after shutting the door.

"He's after some drawings of the city," Mary said, still not looking at me. "He said Stephen had them in a drawer in his office at the tavern and that they are probably still there. He wanted me to retrieve them for him, lest he'd hurt me again. He never said what he wanted them for, only that it would show us all."

Mr Wolfsblade sighed heavily. "I believe we were right, Ariana. They might be planning something, something big. It might even be a coup. I say it is time to be offensive."

Tears stung behind my eyes as I looked at the girl by the table, but I took a deep breath, straightened and nodded. "I agree."