TW: Bl00d, fighting, w3apons

That night, Roche didn't wake up Ivie or the princess for their watch shifts. She sat with her father by the fire, explaining her tales to him in full. She no longer felt ashamed to see herself in him. She laughed when he pressed her with exuberant questions, when his eyes widened in wonder like hers and when he edged away from the fire when it crackled loudly, just like her. He listened to her studiously, absorbing every bit of information.

When Roche had finally finished, drained of words, he leaned back, mulling her story over.

"Well," he murmured, "I know it seems ghastly, but Verita and Leinos were quite talented to conceal your inkblood the way they did. That ritual is ancient, the records on it are sparse."

Roche snorted. "That would never stop Verita. If there's a record of something, she knows all about it."

Ikaros smiled warmly. It felt like he'd given her the sun on a platter. "That she does," he told her, tipping his head towards her thoughtfully, "Still, I'm surprised she even tried it. That ritual was originally a punishment of the highest caliber for criminal inkbloods. It was meant to seal away their connection to words and communication. The targets were often left hollow, empty shells. Verita and Leinos must have modified the spell heavily for it to have not killed your infant form."

A shiver ran down Roche's spine. "It sounds permanent." she noted, leaning towards the fire. Ikaros frowned.

"Yes, it should have been," he mused, staring at his daughter in fascination, "Yet somehow your inkblood broke through. Whatever triggered the breaking of the runic restraints must have been powerful indeed."

Roche felt a memory tickling the edge of her mind. She pushed it away, unwilling to revisit the traumatizing memory of her getting her inkblood. "Could it be because I'm the Ala?" she asked hesitantly.

Ikaros pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Let me meditate with my ink tonight. Perhaps the answer will become clearer."

"And how to break through the restraints," Roche muttered. Ikaros glanced up at her in alarm.

"Are you sure you want to do that, my child?" he asked gravely, "Their enchantment has kept you safe for this long. To remove it might make your inkblood visible. You might put yourself at a greater risk. And ask someone who has been chased by the king, I must tell you that it is a great risk."

Roche's heart panged at the words, Her father had spent countless years in a cave for his abilities. She knew the danger of unlocking her true powers and yet...

Her gaze drifted to the sleeping princess and something in her chest loosened.

"I must," she murmured, "I am the Ala. I need to protect Tigris. I've been in the castle under Verita's tutelage for four years. I've learned many incantations, yet my strength continues to fail me. I'm supposed to become one of the most formidable inkbloods to exist. I cannot protect my lady if I do not become who I am supposed to be."

The small speech left her breathless. Ikaros considered her words carefully for a moment. He heaved himself to his feet after a beat.

"Alright," he murmured,, "Let me ask my ink. Get some rest, I'll take the next watch."

Roche obeyed jubilantly, feeling buoyant joy as she snuggled into her bed roll. She turned onto her side, watching through slitted eyes as her father lowered himself to a crouch before smoothly shifting into another position, balancing on one leg. His arms circled around his head, and his inkblood thickened the air.

His face was more peaceful and calm than Roche had seen it be over the past day. She wondered if that's what she looked like when she used her inkblood.

"Goodnight, Father," she whispered, so quietly that she wasn't sure if he heard the words.

But words were all they knew. Her father smiled, spreading his arms like wings. A warm rush of lulling inkblood blanketed her like a warm hug.

"Goodnight, Roche."

She fell asleep smiling.

-------

She felt like she was riding the clouds as she skipped beside her horse that Tigris had ordered her to donate to Ikaros. She didn't even argue, she was happy to lend her mare to her father.

Her father.

Her father who wasn't the asshole she'd feared he was. It felt like giving herself permission to like the man. She was more than happy to do so. The more she watched the whisper, her respect and pride for him grew. She watched him use his inkblood to easily pack up his things and wipe every trace of himself from the campsite with a wave of his weather hand. He was strong, and he had the same dry humour that Roche tended to favour. He quipped with Tigris guardedly, smiling proudly when Roche snorted.

Tigris seemed amused at Roche's change of heart and rode ahead with Ivie, giving Roche time to acquaint herself with the whisper.

As they approached the more bandit infested parts of the forest, Roche paused to silently cast out her inkblood and erase every footprints in the hardened mud.

Her father glanced at her in surprise for a moment, his breath hitching. His eyes darted to the unaware princess up ahead as Roche hurried to catch up.

"You must be careful," he warned her with no small amount of worry, "If your princess saw that..."

"It's fine," Roche assured him, silently twining her inkblood around her arms in proof, "Tigris never notices."

Ikaros lifted a brow. "Really," he asked, a bit uncertain, "Never?"

"She's a bit thick," Roche replied with a cheeky smile, "And it helps that most of what I do is silent and invisible."

Ikaros tilted his head curiously, his dark curls spilling to the side. "Silent? Is it not usually silent for you?"

"No," Roche replied, confusion filling her, when Ikaros frowned, "Isn't that how it normally is for you?"

Tigris chose that moment to fall back to check on them. She glanced between Roche and the whisper, her brows lifting. "She isn't bothering you, is she?" Tigris asked with fond exasperation.

Roche scowled. "Why do you assume I'm being bothersome?"

"Because that's all you usually are,"

"Roche is perfectly fine, Princess Tigris," Ikaros interrupted before Roche could retort with something that would probably get her locked in the dungeons, "She was simply curious as to how I cast my enchantments."

Tigris cast Roche a surprised look. "You? Aren't you terrified of inkblood?"

"I am not!" Roche's cheeks turned hot as her father shot her an inquisitive look. "And I just noticed that Ikaros doesn't have to speak to use his inkblood. All the regular inkbloods who've tried to kill you usually shout something before they use an enchantment."

"Well, I was born in Irulia. I studied with the inkbloods and whispers there at one of their academies." Ikaros said.

Academies. There had been academies for inkblood, once. Longing opened up within Roche, a hole her inkblood nestled in and cried. Ikaros looked wistful for the place, his fingers twitching at the memory. The fresh scent of ink filled the air, and Roche watched the dark streams lovingly curl around the whisper's neck in silent comfort.

Tigris looked uncomfortable at the blatant display but didn't say a word. Ikaros mindlessly twined the ink around his fingers, his ghostly voice filtering through the air with a steady, lulling cadence.

"Irulian inkbloods don't usually use verbal incantations," Ikaros demonstrated by wiggling his fingers, letting inkblood dip and weave over his knuckles like a disappearing coin, "We use movements."

Fascination filled Roche. "There's different ways to use inkblood?" she asked curiously.

Ikaros nodded. "Those from the Faultless kingdom typically use- used verbal incantations," he amended, glancing at Tigris uncomfortably, "Your castle's library used to be filled to the brim with spellbooks dedicated describing verbal incantations. Meanwhile, in the Tselts they used dances. Their concerts used to be revered for the displays. Irulians focused on rhythmic steps and various movements, like I use. Though some women would use songs or even whistles. Shultans did the same with a mix of dances and song. Once I met a remote Shultan who used a series of tongue clicks. He was a powerful man." A faint smile flickered across his face at the memory. "He taught me much."

Tigris watched, her expression indecipherable. "Are there really so many ways to use it?" the royal asked, her voice neutral.

"It is. There once were hundreds of ways to access inkblood, just as there are hundreds of ways to communicate with one another. There used to be celebrations that people would come from across the world to watch. I once saw a man lift the entire crowd without moving or saying a word. Another danced with their lover and managed to turn day to night." Ikaros' voice was faraway with longing that Roche felt so intensely it hurt, "It was beautiful."

Tigris blinked in surprise at the sentiment colouring the whisper's voice. A thoughtful look crossed over her face. "I didn't know," the princess admitted quietly.

Ikaros' wistful smile faded, as did his inkblood. "I don't expect you to," he murmured, albeit a bit stiffly, "Most of the more unique practitioners are dead."

Tigris pressed her lips together awkwardly. She nodded at Roche briefly before urging her horse forward to catch up to Ivie.

"Strange princess," Ikaros murmured, staring after her, "She has wisdom and an ear that her father never had."

"She's destined to be the greatest queen the lands have ever known," Roche reminded him with a small smile, "A balancer of fate."

He cast her a surprised look. "You really do believe in her, don't you?"

"How could I not?" Roche asked, "After a day with her, can you tell me that you don't feel it? How she is change incarnate? She questions everything she's been taught and will risk everything, all for the sake of her people. I have full faith in her."

Ikaros grinned. "That is true, Ala." he said the moniker teasingly, fondly, and Roche's cheeks heated. She smiled shyly.

"Well-"

Roche is cut off by her inkblood seizing in her veins so sharply that she sucked in a breath. At the same moment, there was a rustle in the trees. Tigris froze, her eyes sharply scanning the bushes and trees lining their path.

Before the princess could even shout a warning, there was a whistle in the air. Ikaros cried out, flinging out his hand. An arrow stopped inches away from Tigris' face, falling to the ground harmlessly.

Bandits poured in from the trees. Roche only had a second to recognise them as the ones who had chased her to Ikaros' cave. Their eyes latched onto her for a moment before they shifted course towards Tigris.

"Get them all! The king will pay royally!" the lead bandit shouted.

Tigris and Ivie unsheathed guns, shooting down the first bandits to rush from the trees. Their bodies fell like puppets with their strings cut, but there were simply too many of them.

Roche rallied her inkblood, rushing to the edge of the fray. She stood behind Tigris, who had been pressed back a step by a bandit who hadn't been shot down by her spray of bullets. He wielded a wickedly sharp sword, swinging it towards Tigris' neck.

Roche batted away his blade with a flare of inkblood. Another bandit lunged for Tigris' side, and Roche silently tangled his legs together, letting him fall unceremoniously to the floor. Tigris turned, slicing his neck open with her sword, gun abandoned by the fresh onslaught of close quartered bandits.

Sweat beaded on Roche's brow. The number of bandits was thinning, but there were still so many of them. Ivie was gracefully slicing through as many as she could, ducking beneath sprays of bullets to dispatch the weaponised bandits. Tigris moved like a river, fluidly slicing down multiple bandits with barely a glance. But even she was tiring. They needed something quick and fast.

Ikaros' inkblood spewed past her, a tidal wave of power. His ink sank into the backs of a ring of bandits charging Tigris' exposed back, and they folded over instantly, twitching and moaning as if they were trapped in nightmares.

Tigris spun around, gaping at the fallen bodies. She glanced up at Ikaros in surprise, and Roche's blood froze as she caught a flicker of motion from the bushes behind her.

She shouted in warning, but knew Tigris would be too late. Her hands were up in an instant, her body lunging forward, an incantation bubbling to life on her lips.

"Drenn meotus,"

A deafening crack split the air, and the trees around Tigris began to fall like dominoes. The princess stumbled to the side, inadvertently dodging the blade swinging for her. Her assailant, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. The tree crushed his body with a wet crack, smacking into another towering trunk as it fell. Roots tore out of the ground, spraying Ivie with mud and pinning the knight's assailants to the ground. Some of them still lived, and Ivie made quick work of them.

The trees continued to fall in a thick ring. Roche panted, bending forward tiredly. Ikaros' inkblood melded with hers, speeding up the collapse of the forest around them. Roche watched Tigris leap back into battle with the cowed bandits. She was so relieved that she barely noticed a blur in the corner of her vision.

Roche spun around, ducking instinctively under a brutally curved blade. She rolled to the side, fear squeezing her chest like a vise when she recognised the face of her assailant. The leader of the bandits sneered, smiling. He had several teeth missing, and his jaw was crooked. Roche had a moment to think, looks like he's been in a lot of fights, before his knife arched towards her again. She rolled to the side, popping onto her feet quickly.

"The king'll pay nicely for you," the bandit jeered, lunging forward. Roche darted back, glancing towards Tigris. The numbers had finally evened out, and Tigris would be fine on her own.

Roche, however, wouldn't.

"Pweros muinor," she hissed, and the bandit dropped his blade, cursing as it melted into a puddle of molten metal. Roche took the moment of distraction and turned, charging into a dead sprint. The scenery blurred around her, adrenaline making the world overly sharp as she dodged trees and bushes. Heavy steps thundered around her.

Her mind raced. Tigris had told her that she was a fast runner, one of her few athletic qualities. She was smaller and lithe too. She had a chance at outrunning him! She just needed to get far enough-

A whistle pierced the air. Roche ducked on instinct, sprawling across the ground. A dagger grazed the top of her head, leaving a line of stinging pain. She flipped over onto her back, scrambling to get out of the way when a burly body crashed into her, pinning her down. The bandit's face was shiny with sweat that dripped onto Roche's cheek. Disgust mingled with her terror as he leaned his face towards her, angling his dagger against the side of her throat. His breath was muggy and foul.

"One more trick, and I'll slit your throat," he breathed. Roche swallowed, racking her mind. Even if she threw him off her or made him let go, the blade would slice her open like a fish.

The bandit smiled smugly. "Not so mouthy now, are we?" he mocked. Roche's blood boiled.

Before she could think of an incantation, the bandit's mouth opened again. But he didn't chortle or jeer at her again. Instead, he choked, spraying her with a warm gush of blood. Visible inkblood looped around his body, dragging him to the side and safely away from Roche's neck. She scrambled upright, gratefully dragging in a fresh breath of air.

Ikaros stood behind the body, a sword of inkblood held tightly in his hands. He crouched over her, holding out his hand to help her up. His face was furrowed with concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Roche nodded, smiling as she grasped his hands. Her vision began to focus on his face.

"Thanks to you."

Ikaros smiled, leaning forward to help her up. Then, strangely, he froze. Roche belatedly registered the sound of a wet squelch, skin yielding to steel. Time slowed, thick and gelid around Roche as her eyes met the whisper's. His lips curved with her name. Then he sagged to the side, the wooden handle of a dagger sticking out of his back.

A/N: ...sorry? I swear, I'm not going to maim and injure everyone Roche cares about 😭

As always, happy reading!