A/N: Well... I'm sorry. But I'm here now, and to be honest, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. There aren't that many chapters left (in my mind). However, I'm not going to make any promises, because I don't know whether or not I can actually keep them. I'm doing my Master's right now, and I might be starting my PhD this fall, so I have a lot going on. I won't give up on this, nevertheless. That is for damn sure! For now, consider this a late Christmas present!

Enjoy!

A Valiant Heart

Chapter XXXVI

It was the night after the encounter with John. The Hero and I had just finished our training, and I had been terrible the whole evening. My inattentiveness had not gone unnoticed and the Hero had very considerately tried to comfort me. After all, he knew what had happened and told me not to fret.

"She just needs some time," said he. "It is rather difficult for her to understand straight away. All these years… she needs to figure it all out by herself. She will come around, trust me."

I sat down and let out a deep sigh. "I know. I just feel so terrible for not telling her sooner."

"I know you do." He joined me in the grass, a bit closer than necessary.

I, on the other hand, did not move away. "She has avoided me for the entire day! I went by her house, but she wants nothing to do with me. I broke her heart, Wolfsblade, and I don't know how to mend it."

"There is nothing to mend, because nothing is broken." He carefully moved a lock of hair behind my ear. "She will need time, however, to comprehend. She admires you, and knowing that her dearest friend has been the Protector of Bowerstone all this time can't be an easy thing to wrap one's head around."

I sighed again as I allowed myself to lean into him, placing my head on his chest. I felt his breath quicken, but he soon adjusted and gently wrapped an arm around me. The longing I felt in my heart grew rapidly with each day and I welcomed Mr Wolfsblade's gentle touch. I welcomed it as much as I desired it.

We sat quietly for a moment, gazing at the stars and falling into each other's blissful breaths. There, I could stay forever. Only the cold was my enemy now. Spring was casting winter into oblivion for this annual, but the winter cold fought back bravely. When I started to shiver, Mr Wolfsblade stirred.

"You are cold," he said. "You should go home. Get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow."

I did not argue with him, but neither did I agree. As we strolled back to Old Town side by side, I found myself not wanting to leave him. It was a peculiar sensation, one that I had not experienced before. Surely, the sensation of a fluttering belly and blushing cheeks was nothing new, but this was. Every day that passed, and every night of practice with the Hero, new light was shed on the man. The more time we spent tête-à-tête, the more I learned to know him—to truly know him. It was as if he changed with the seasons. We had already gone through so much, that we started on a very different level than most strangers: we were no strangers at all. I had learnt to know that Thomas Sparrow was humorous yet serious; spontaneous yet organised; romantic yet blunt. He enjoyed stories of the Heroes of the Old Kingdom and that he one day wanted to travel the world. Things I had never known about him despite having known him for quite some time were now revealed to me. It then occurred to me, that whilst I had known and somewhat fallen for his wickedness, I had never truly seen his virtues. I knew of his generosity, his passion and his loyalty, but I knew nothing of his person, the man behind the fame and the fortune. When we said good night that evening, it took us longer than usual. It was evident we both felt the change in our dynamic and even though neither of us mentioned it, we did not want to say good bye that night. In the end, we had to. Like a gentleman, he kissed my hand before we parted ways. Admittedly, I did turn my head after him once he had gone.

Mother was quite upset once I entered the house. Had I been working all this time? Had I been with a boy? Why did I never tell her anything? It was as if her own daughter had become a stranger to her. I reassured her that she did not need to worry about me at all, but mother would not abide.

"You must understand that I worry about you, Ariana!" cried she. "Don't you think I haven't noticed that you are out of bed some nights? Where are you? I could tell your father, but I will give you one last chance to tell me the truth. I want no more lies."

I was stunned and did not upon my life know what I would tell my mother. That I was training with the Hero? That I was secretly a masked protector at nights? That I was in the pursuit of a dangerous criminal who wanted me dead? Indeed, no. I could not tell her that. Of course, I could lie and tell her that I spend my nights with Garrett, but something prevented me to speak the words. That would be the most sensible thing for me to do, yet I could not tell her so.

"Well?" mother urged me.

"I… I'm having some trouble sleeping some nights, so I take walks."

"Ariana, don't lie!"

I rolled my eyes. "What do you want me to tell you, mama? That I am with a boy? Is that it?"

"You're turning nineteen in a few weeks, you ought to have been married years ago." Mother was trembling in anger. "I married your father when I was sixteen."

"Mother, I am not having this discussion with you at the moment." Angered, I headed towards my room.

"Whatever happened with the Hero? As far I know he was ready to ask you to marry him before the ghastly ordeal with the Balverine, and he surely hasn't married anyone since then, and now that you're healed and—"

"Mother!" I gasped as I spun furiously. "I don't want to hear another word from you about marriage! Is that understood?"

"My dear, I am your mother! If anyone should speak of marriage with you, it should be I!"

"I am not interested in marriage. I do not want to be judged upon the conventions of my own gender, neither do I want my value as a person to lie within my looks! I refuse to submit to a man who cannot respect me for who I am; he needs to understand, respect and sympathise with the struggle I, as all women, must go through in life. When you find that man, I'll be willing to listen. Until then, I wish not to discuss it any further. I am tired. Good night." As I angrily headed up the small staircase, I heard my father come from his study, asking what the ruckus was all about.

Aaron peeked out of his chambers as I ascended the stairs. "Were you and mama fighting again?"

"It's only mindless bickering," said I. "Don't you worry about it. Go back to sleep."

"If you married the Hero, you'd have to leave, wouldn't you?"

"I'm not marrying Mr Wolfsblade, so there is no need to worry," said I comfortingly. "And if I leave here, I will take you with me."

"Mama and papa would be terribly sad if we left them," Aaron said.

"Indeed, but we must one day."

"I know that!"

I smiled. "Good night, Aaron."

The boy nodded and went back to his room and I sighed heavily as I entered mine. In hindsight, my night with the Hero might have been rather dangerous, because for the moment, both Aaron's and mother's words echoed in my mind, and the notion that Mr Wolfsblade was not yet married played mockingly in the back of my head. But of course I would want what I could not have—it was the bitter laws of this world. Terribly tired, I lay down on my bed. Perhaps Bowerstone would survive one night without Scarlet Rogue? I had not slept an entire night for weeks and I was now fairly confident that John would not try anything for some time. The finale of the Games was upon us, and to prolong John's evident plan was to prolong an eventual coup during the finale.

Tomorrow, we would be in the tavern all day, the Hero, Mr Beck, Hammer, Mary and I. Together, we were about to look through the drawings John was after and see what they were all about, if we could find them at all. Perhaps we could put our clever minds together and figure out how we were going to stop John and his men—and to find out if John was telling the truth, or simply toying with us all.

I fell asleep rather quickly once I put my mind to it. It was, however, a restless sleep, a diverted sleep, riddled with nightmares. I tossed and I turned throughout the night and once morning arrived, I had not slept more than a few hours at length.

Mother was still angry with me when I had my breakfast, but no one in the household spoke of it; father seemed to ignore our dispute and ate his porridge before leaving for work; Aaron took a piece of bread in his satchel and spoke only a few words before leaving for school; mother and I barely shared a look at all before I, too, left home for the day.

This day, the city had risen with the sun for there were only two days left of the Albion Games. In just a few short hours, this would all be over and the city would return to its mundane, yet blissful life. At least, that was what I hoped, for I was quite sick of all the people in town. I kept my eyes open and sharp, because despite the conviction that John would not venture into the light of day when he most certainly would know that all eyes would be on him, I could not dismiss the thought and the worry. Well inside the tavern, it was tense between me and Mary. I could not decipher whether it was because of our personal predicament or the very troublesome situation we all found ourselves in at this very moment. I sought for every opportunity I could find to talk with Mary alone, but it seemed almost impossible. So much people seemed to want our attention in the tavern that day, and on top of it all, we had to go looking for the drawings John was after. Were they even in the tavern at all? We did not know.

After many futile attempts, I finally succeeded in secluding Mary from the others long enough to have a well-needed conversation. I had followed her to the cellar, and even though I, myself, had rather disturbing memories of difficult conversations in that particular cellar, I could not deny the privacy the cellar provided. "Mary," said I once the cellar door was closed behind us, "I believe there are things we need to discuss."

Mary was silent and let her gaze drop to her shoes while crossing her arms over her chest.

"I am sorry," I sighed. "I lied to you, and that was wrong of me. But you have to understand, I didn't want—"

"You didn't want people to know," Mary finished. "I know. But Ariana…" She raised her eyes to me. "Why?"

I wanted her to understand without me explaining it to her, but indeed, Mary was not the same as I. Her life was preoccupied with dreams of a loving husband and children, dreams women were expected to have. I, on the other hand, dreamed of other things. My views on life were very different, and my expectations too. "When the Hero left," I began, "I felt as though I had no other choice. I never thought that I, a peasant woman, could become what I am today, but as the years went by and my deeds grew bigger, I realised that I couldn't stop. I had created something that was worth holding on to, don't you agree?"

"But why keep it a secret?" Mary asked.

I shook my head. "When I put my mask on, I'm not Ariana the Tailor's daughter any longer, I am Scarlet Rogue. It's not me, Mary. By Avo, I'm not even sure Scarlet is human! I wanted her to be more of an ideal, existing amongst the shadows. I don't want the fame and I don't want the credit. I want people to feel safe even in the darkest of hours, because I want them to know that Scarlet Rogue is always watching." I saw that Mary was listening, although she might not understand my firm beliefs. "Look at Mr Wolfsblade. He's powerful, yes, but flawed. He is but a man—Scarlet Rogue is an idea. She could be anyone, really, and still be just a shadow."

"It's an amiable thought," Mary finally said, "but you will take it with you to your grave. People are simple minded. By Skorm, I know I am. Everybody thinks Scarlet Rogue is just another Hero. They don't know she's just like them—or, you're just like them. How did you plan on planting the idea in people's minds if they would just continue believing she is a Hero like Mr Wolfsblade or Hammer?"

I despised when Mary was wiser than I, when I had to admit defeat, because she was indeed right and I had never thought about it in that way before. "I don't know. All I know is that Scarlet Rogue emerged from the need of a Hero, and grew into what she is today by being a mystery. And a mystery, she will remain."

"You've put yourself in danger so many times," Mary continued. "Don't you ever think about your poor mother? Or father? Or Aaron? What if you would have died out there? Killed by a ruffian, or a Balverine?"

Slowly, I nodded. "I think about them every night I'm out there. But I also think about all the people I've saved through the years. I know what I have been getting myself into, and I have been ready to face Death many times in my life. I've always had a conviction, though, that I was meant for something greater than being murdered by a bandit." I took a step closer to her as I spoke. "I don't know what that is, but I'm sure I'm not there yet. I still have many years ahead of me, or she has."

"You're not making any sense."

"No," I sighed. "I suppose I'm not, but the truth of the matter is that as long as Scarlet resides in the shadows, whether she is a commoner or a Hero, people will believe she remains there, always watching. I want her to still be there, even after I'm gone."

"But how could you have kept it a secret? You must be exhausted?"

Those words lured a smile out of me. "My reward has been the expression of relief on the people's faces when they've been saved by the elusive Scarlet. Exhaustion holds nothing against that."

"And the Hero?" Mary asked. "Has he always known?"

I laughed, coldly. "No, indeed not! He found out after an unfortunate encounter. Mary, you would not believe the resentment he held for Scarlet Rogue before he knew it was I! Scandalous! Even before he knew it was I hiding behind the mask, he knew she was no Hero, and he was infuriated. Not because a commoner risked her own life—no!—but because someone stole his thunder! A woman, no less!"

"Was that why you hated him so?" she asked, seemingly intrigued.

I nodded. "It was. You know of the contempt I held for the man even before he came back from the Spire, but by Avo, how I hated him once he came back!"

"And now?"

I smiled. "There is no hatred. Not anymore. He has helped me by training me, and by keeping my secret." I sighed heavily and reached out to grab her hands in mine. "Mary, my dearest friend, I know how this must have hurt you. I know I haven't been the friend you wished me to be, and I know that I should have trusted you, that I should have told you already from the start. I know all that, and you have all right to be angry with me. But I beg you, understand my reasons and please, don't tell anyone about this."

Mary looked down on her hands that were held by mine and nodded slowly. "I am just trying to wrap my head around the fact that my colleague, my best friend and my… well, my sister, is a Hero."

"I'm not a Hero."

"Yes," she said, and for the first time today, I spied a smile on her face. "Yes, you are."

We embraced each other for a long moment before we both sat down and had a long conversation about everything that had anything to do with Scarlet Rogue. She was burning with curiosity and I happily answered any questions she had. It was a relief to be able to tell her everything, and for once, there were no secrets between us. She asked me for the truth about mine and the Hero's relationship, and I told her all. The only thing I did not tell her, was the Hero's real name. It was not because I was uncertain I had the right to share it, but because I strangely enough treasured it. It was such an intimate secret, and I knew that the only one I would ever tell, would be him.

Patrick was the one who came to fetch us. He was displeased that he had to go all the way down to the cellar to look for us and had to miss the ruckus and excitement happening inside the tavern. He was endlessly curious about what we had been doing all this time, but both Mary and I held secretive smiles and said nothing.

The rest of the day was riddled with work. It was evident that our establishment, though fine, could was not build for as many customers as were packed inside the tavern that day. When the night shift barmaids arrived, Mary and I had no chance of going. We all had to run in turns into Stephen's old office to see if we could find the drawings anywhere, but we never had enough time to look through it all. If we did not look through the same piece of paper thrice each, we found neither locks nor keys. While running in and out of the office, there were constant head shakes and deep sighs and as the afternoon past us and evening presented itself, we were growing more and more anxious. If anything were to happen during the games, anything that had anything to with the city drawings, we had no chance of preventing it beforehand.

Mr Wolfsblade were constantly distracted by noblemen from around the country while trying to find his way to the office, and I saw through the crowd how hard he fought to excuse himself and just as he successfully parted from one nobleman, another one demanded his attention.

In the crowd, I suddenly saw Garrett wave at me, and even though I felt relief in seeing him, there was a foreboding knot forming in my stomach and I could only decipher it as guilt. He embraced me reassuringly before planting an innocent peck on the cheek. He felt worried that I might be working too hard and wanted to ask if I would like to join him for dinner. I had not even realised how intolerably hungry I was at that point. I did nothing good by starving, but I had a quest I needed to finish before I could do anything. An idea struck me at that very moment.

"Garrett," said I, "if I asked you to do something that is quite important, you would do it without hesitation, would you not?"

Garrett furrowed his brows. "Of course. Anything."

In relief and excitement, I kissed him. I cared not that it was in a crowded tavern at night, but as our lips parted I felt burning steel eyes from across the room and the knot in my belly grew tighter. I gathered myself and explained to him in hushed whispers what I was looking for and where he could find it. He had a serious look to his face as he stoically nodded and headed up to the office; I trusted his abilities to be careful and thorough in his search. I managed to tell the others that we had an agent, that Garrett would do the searching for us, and for the first time in the evening, we could all focus on what our primary tasks were. Mary and I finished long after our shift ended, but when we finally could take our aprons off, we both sighed in sweet relief. Hammer and Mr Beck were not quite as occupied by nobles as Wolfsblade was, but they had had their share of nosy and attention seeking noblemen and women that night. In one final desperate attempt of somewhat synchronise our relentless search for the drawings, we quickly met in the pantry. The three large warriors crowded the small space and kept knocking down loafs of bread and wrapped hams from the shelves, leaving Mary and me to depserately trying to save the pottery and glass to break.

"So?" Wolfsblade asked. "Has anything been found yet?"

We all shook our heads buI suddenly spied Garrett through the small opening in the doorway as he was looking about by the bar for me. I quickly excused myself and headed out to ask him if he had found anything, but his face was unfavourably sour. "Well?" I asked him carefully.

He sighed deeply as he shook his head. "I looked everywhere and I swear to you, if there ever were any city drawings in that office, they're long gone by now."