She was scrubbing pots with boiled water when he found her. Night had fallen and the stars peeked out through the thick net of branches above their head. If Roche closed her eyes, she could pretend she was at Medea's grove. But the air didn't smell right, not like Medea's sweet scent that somehow filled the space of the sacred grove. And the stars somehow seemed duller, diluted by the turmoil of the day.

Tigris had been tended to and now slept by the fire with Ivie at her side. Roche was going to take the first watch. Last she'd seen, Ikaros had been settling in on the opposite side of the fire, withdrawn but intent. She'd expected him to be asleep by now. It was why she was startled when she heard his feeble steps crunching through the autumn-hardened mud as he crouched next to her beside the stream.

"Need help with that?" he asked, his voice gentle and kind. Somehow, that irked her more.

"No," Roche mumbled, careful to keep her voice neutral, "I'm fine, thank you."

Ikaros hesitated. He was barely visible in the darkness, save for a flash of his golden skin and a shift in the shadows that was his inky hair sweeping over his shoulder.

"I could..." he paused again, waggling his fingers. Roche felt his inkblood filling the air, the wild scent of it stinging against her nostrils. She shoved away the sensation.

"I'm fine," she bit out. All she could see when she heard his disused voice was a splotch of bruises on her mother's cheek. She remembered the exact pitch of her mother's cries at night, weeping over the man who would never come home.

The moments stretched on. Ikaros didn't move and Roche felt her blood boiling.

"You know, you could probably use your own inkblood to do it," Ikaros whispered after a moment. Roche clenched her jaw. Why couldn't the man just leave her alone?

"I can't," she answered diplomatically, like Tigris would have wanted her to, "I'm not strong enough."

Ikaros shifted in the darkness with surprise. "You most certainly are. I saw how you fought those bandits, you have enough power for a pot scrubbing incantation."

His inkblood filled the air, sweeping over her skin and probing at her inkblood. Roche was up on her feet, primal instincts launching her away from the man. Her inkblood shredded through his in a vicious wave.

"I thought I told you not to touch me," Roche hissed.

Ikaros' wide eyes seemed to glow in the night. He held up his hands instantly. "I'm sorry," he said, "It's a way to check the strength of your ink. It used to be common practice between inkbloods."

Roche bit back a growl. "Well, I'm not comfortable with it!" she snapped.

"Right. I'm sorry," Ikaros lowered himself to the muddy ground beside her, not seeming to care about how the frigid muck soaked into his trousers. His eyes were earnest as he summoned a light with a simple twitch of his fingers. A pale grey orb of ethereal luminescence bobbed between them, washing out the whisper's golden skin into something ashen. His hand fell to his side as he cocked his head, gazing at Roche curiously. She squirmed under his watchful eye.

"You still don't like me, do you?" he murmured after a beat. Roche felt a muscle in her jaw tick with a blend of discomfort and ire.

"I appreciate what you are doing for my lady," she answered honestly, mindful of Tigris' orders.

"But you dislike me," Ikaros narrowed his eyes at her face, "Have I wronged you somehow?"

"No," Roche answered curtly, standing up quickly. Her mind was fixated on the image of her mother's beat up face. Her inkblood frothed to life. "I really must be going. I have first watch."

Ikaros furrowed his brows. "I don't understand," he murmured, and each word grated on Roche's nerves, "I know I said that inkbloods and whispers are not kin, but you... you are the closest thing to kin I have left. There aren't any others like us left who have considerable ink running through their veins."

The words strained at Roche's emotions. She turned away, moonlight dancing over her skin. She longed for the tranquility of Medea's grove.

"So do you expect us to be friends? Allies?" Roche asked coldly. She felt the man flinch. Good, a vindictive part of her mind whispered, he deserves it.

She heard him lean forward. "You don't trust me?"

The words, said so innocently, snapped the tight control Roche had over her emotions. She whirled around, inkblood bubbling to the surface.

"Of course not!" Roche snapped, pot gripped like a sword in her hands, "I know precisely who you are."

"Who I am?" Ikaros repeated. His confusion sounded so earnest that Roche scoffed. He was an excellent actor.

"Someone who turns his back on the people who need him," Roche hissed, "Someone who would beat the defenseless."

Ikaros' eyes widened at the vehement accusation. "What?" he gasped, "Beat the... why would you... what... I don't understand."

Roche seethed. "Don't play dumb." she hissed, "If you even think about hurting Tigris that way, whisper or not I will-"

"Wait, wait, wait. Who do you think I beat? I've never laid a hand on anyone!" Ikaros asked, breathless. Something in Roche's mind fractured with rage, distorting her vision.

Roche towered over him. "I know you have. I saw the aftermath of your touch. I'm from a village called Brikui. Perhaps you recognise it, or who lives there?"

The whisper went perfectly still, a statue in the feeble starlight. He gaped at her, cataloguing her features in a new light. She saw the realisation hit him like a physical blow, rocking him back.

"You... you..."

"My mother," Roche said evenly, "Is Elena."

Ikaros stared at her, gawking openly. His eyes began to shine. Roche couldn't tell which emotion was flashing across his features in the dark.

"You're her daughter?" he rasped, "Did she..."

"She never married. Never moved on," the words were flowing out of her in a torrent. The pot slipped from her hands that clenched into tight fists as she stalked closer. "She only ever wanted you and your love, but for the life of me, I can't understand why. You left her while she was pregnant. Do you know what they called her, an unmarried pregnant Irulian woman on her own?"

Ikaros flinched back, his hands skidding into the stream. Icy water splashed his face, but he didn't look away, soaking his hair with crystal-like drops. He looked ghostly in the grey light of his enchantment.

"Pregnant?" he whispered, his voice trembling like it was a glass vase that could shatter at any moment. "She was pregnant? With... with..."

"With me," Roche confirmed, his awed tone breaking the haze of fury that clouded her mind. The man gaped at her, and she slowly informed him. "I am your daughter. But I do not claim you as my kin. Not after what you did."

"What I did? Oh gods, what did I do? I left her..." Ikaros shook his head, his words coming out in breathless puffs. He buried his face in his shaking hands for a moment before drawing his gaze up to hers. Roche was shocked out of her anger when she saw nothing but wonder in his eyes. "My daughter. You're my daughter."

Roche's eyes burned. "Don't call me that." She turned to leave. "And don't you dare tell the princess about our relationship."

"I won't!" Ikaros' voice was frantic, "Please, Roche. Daughter. I didn't know! I didn't know about your mother!"

Roche snorted. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that? I remember the day she tried to visit you."

"Visit me?" Ikaros repeated, absolutely dumbfounded and hopeful all at once. He sank back on his heels, drenched in river water and shivering. "She tried to visit me?"

Roche's remaining anger evaporated at the genuine bewilderment of his voice. "You didn't know? She left one day and told me she had something important to tell you. She came back beaten. I thought..."

"That I did it," Ikaros breathed, his eyes widening in realisation. He lunged forward, grabbing Roche's hand. The contact jarred her. His hands were cracked and wide, as warm as a sunning stone. "Roche, I don't expect you to believe me but I swear on the inkblood within me that I never saw your mother that day. I haven't seen your mother since the day I left her. I thought it would be safer for her if I left her alone, so that Romulus wouldn't incriminate her. If I'd known what she was going through-" his voice choked off brokenly.

Roche's mind spun as the world reoriented itself. "I don't understand. Who hurt her?"

Who's ass do I need to kick?

Ikaros bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. "Did she tell you where she was going that day?"

"She said she was going to meet you where she always had. She said that if she didn't return to send a letter to the city and tell Verita that." Roche muttered, the memory vivid in her mind. The colours of her mother's bruises stood out to her starkly, even years later. Blues and purples, yellows and greens, like a meadow of agony.

Ikaros gasped suddenly. "Oh! I think... your mother might have gone to our old house. The one we lived in while we stayed in Irulia. I went back to visit once to see if she'd settled there. I was informed that your mother had gone to Brikui and that the new owners were rather violent traditional men." the whisper's eyes were sorrowful as they lifted to meet Roche's, "I'm afraid they wouldn't have taken kindly to a young, unwedded woman on her own chasing after her child's father. I'm so sorry, Roche."

Roche heaved in a breath, sinking to the ground. Their hands were still clasped, and neither of them wanted to let go.

"Oh gods, I was so wrong," she breathed. Ikaros' face split with a shaky, hesitant grin. His light enchantment glowed brighter, pulsing like a star.

"As was I. You are my kin. You are my daughter."

Roche swallowed, tears burning her eyes fiercely. "And you're my father," she croaked.

Ikaros laughed in disbelief, sweeping forward to hug her. Roche leaned into the embrace, a tear running down her cheek. She was so glad to be wrong.

"It was so exhausting hating you,"

"I'm happy to disappoint," Ikaros replied jovially, pulling away. His cheeks were tearstained, and a broad smile split his face. "Tell me about your mother. Why are you not with her?"

"She's fine," Roche assured him quickly, "She's doing well now that I'm not around. My inkblood was putting us both in danger so she sent me to Verita a few years ago to learn to control it."

Ikaros settled back, his light enchantment growing brighter with his interest. "Your inkblood," he murmured, glancing at her bare arms, "Do you have a concealment enchantment on you, like me?" He swept a hand down, and a wave of inkblood rippled across the air, coating Roche's skin.

"No," she answered, smiling shyly when his eyes widened in shock, "It's a bit of a long story."

"We have time," Ikaros told her, looking half stunned still as he clasped her hand, "Daughter, we have all the time in the world. I won't miss another moment, I promise."

Roche smiled. This time, she didn't push away the title. She leaned back.

"Well, Father. Apparently, Leinos and Verita had a trick up their sleeves when my mother showed up to the castle..."

A/N: HERE IT IS!!! Hours late, ik. Sorry, I have not had a moment to post all day, this is literally the first time I've sat down in five hours 💀 I hope this chapter makes up for the wait. 

Yayy, Ikaros isn't a jerk! :D What do you think of the big reveal and the truth?

As always, happy reading!