TW: Mild body horror, weaponry, violence

There was someone in her room.

It was the first thought to greet Tigris as she came to consciousness. Before she could string together a thought, her hand was curling around the gun on her bedside table. Tigris launched herself out of bed, chilly morning air caressing her skin as she pointed the gun at the intruder.

"FREEZE!" Tigris bellowed, her bleary eyes still focussing. The figure yelped, and the sound was annoyingly familiar. A crash accompanied the sound, something metal falling to the ground.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" Roche shouted back, hands raised defensively, "Put the gun down! I swear you royals like giving me a heart attack."

"Roche?" Tigris quickly placed the gun back on her bedside table, rubbing her face. Roche's furious face came into focus. The girl's normally dream-like brown eyes were sharp with more anger than terror. She glared at the barrel of Tigris' gun accusingly

Tigris' cheeks warmed. "What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded, well aware that she was wearing nothing but a simple shift embroidered with frilly lace. Roche grimaced. She was wearing her old, torn rose gown that had clearly been mended down the front. Tigris' stomach flipped with guilt as she noticed the crude stitching. Her guilt only intensified when she noticed the upended metal tray of food laying on the ground.

"I'm here to wake you up. Seems like you didn't need help with that, though." Roche answered, her cheeks noticeably flushed. She raised an eyebrow at Tigris. "Did you forget that I'm your handmaiden?"

Tigris groaned, smoothing down her tangled hair. Right. Roche had saved her life.

Weak, measly little Roche.

She wasn't living that down anytime soon.

"Of course I remembered!" Tigris snapped, embarrassment flooding her cheeks. Roche smirked, bending to salvage what remained of Tigris' breakfast.

"Right," Roche drawled. Tigris' cheeks heated more. She turned away.

"Get out."

"No can do, my lady." How did Roche manage to infuse so much sarcasm into such an important title? "Apparently one of my tasks as a handmaiden is to prepare you for the day."

"I can manage." Tigris said tightly, "Now leave."

And Roche did leave, smirking all the while. Tigris realised why when she was brushing her teeth and heard the gentle patter of Roche's footsteps darting through the room. She repressed a groan and headed back out into her chambers.

"What are you doing?" Tigris snapped, watching Roche flitter from window to window, tying back the large, draping curtains.

"Letting in some light. Your breakfast is on your study." Roche called over her shoulder. Her lips were pursed as she made a lopsided bow to tie back the nearest curtain. Tigris facepalmed.

"You're doing that wrong."

"How would you know?"

"I've seen it done my entire life by more competent, temporary maids!" Tigris snapped shortly, storming over. She pushed Roche out of the way with her hip, correcting the bow. She ignored Roche's fascinated gaze as she fixed the curtains. When she was on the last one, she heard a gentle scritching sound. She turned to find Roche writing out something on a sheet of paper. "Are you taking notes?"

Roche blinked owlishly. "How else will I improve?"

Tigris groaned. "Listen. Just get out of here and go back to the library and do... whatever it was you did before becoming a maid. I can handle myself."

Roche's lips quirked with an infuriatingly patient smile. "As much as I'd like that, princess, I'm pretty sure your father will have my head on a pike if I don't complete his instructions. Now, if you're finished with your breakfast, we need to get you dressed."

"You are not dressing me." Tigris hissed, certain that her cheeks were hot enough to light a candle. Roche, for once, also looked embarrassed.

"But the king-"

"Roche." Tigris waited for her new, soon to be former, handmaiden to lock eyes with her, "My father's made a mistake. I don't need a handmaiden, certainly not if that handmaiden is you." The words were harsh, but Tigris was sick of the humiliation that had tailed her since last night. How was she supposed to be an adequate ruler if she couldn't even dress herself? The knights would mock her relentlessly.

For a moment, Roche just gawked at Tigris. Then her hands curled into fists.

"You really don't get it, do you?" Roche growled, baring her teeth, "I floated the idea of quitting, but your father made it clear that this wasn't optional. It's not a matter of whether you need a maid or not! Because if you cast me away, it's not you that will live with the disgrace of being fired from the royal household."

"And you think it's not a disgrace for the future ruler to have a bumbling girl who can't even tie a proper bow or hold a sword dressing me?" Tigris retorted. Roche's eyes flattened to slits. Tigris expected her to shout, to do something that would be worthy of dismissal. But Roche took a deep, shuddery breath that seemed to calm her. She straightened her spine and clasped her hands.

"It's clear that neither of us like this arrangement." Roche said simply. The lack of ire in her voice threw Tigris. She blinked.

"Duh."

Roche's eye twitched. "But it's clear that we can't escape this."

"Like hell we can't!"

"But," Roche interjected, her eyes narrowing at Tigris, "I can try staying out of the way as much as possible, if that's what you'd prefer. You just need to tell me when to back off. You are a princess, after all. Telling me when to quit has always been your thing, even when I wasn't your maid."

Tigris rolled her eyes. Roche stood unmoving. So she's stubborn, Tigris noted silently. Well, it was clear Roche wasn't leaving any time soon. And despite all the sass in Roche's voice, she seemed genuine enough. Tigris bit back a scathing reply, dragging a hand down her face. If she delayed another second, she'd be late for her morning meetings with the knights.

"Fine," Tigris bit out. Roche grinned triumphantly, and Tigris already regretted her decision. "Get that stupid look off your face."

"What look?" Roche asked innocently, smirking. Tigris rolled her eyes.

"Whatever."

"Well, your breakfast is over there." Roche pointed to the study, "Have a bite while I get everything else ready." She began walking across the room. Tigris felt a flash of surprising relief. Considering the time, she would have skipped breakfast to get dressed in time.

Roche was still walking towards her bathroom. She pulled open the door and blinked at the tiles and porcelain in surprise.

"Roche?"

"Mhm?"

"My closet is on the other side of the room." Tigris sighed, gesturing to the engraved mahogany doors next to the study, where she was currently perched upon to eat the breakfast pastries. Roche slammed the bathroom door shut, cheeks red.

"Right. I knew that." Roche stammered, tripping over her heels in her haste. Tigris sighed again.

Today was going to be a long day.

Roche finally laid out a slender, pale yellow gown that Tigris actually approved of. It was speckled with a few jewels, but not excessively so. Roche unlaced the back of the gown, holding it out and looking away while Tigris removed her shift and stepped into the rich fabric. Roche's hands were thick and clumsy against her back as she laced the corset backing and slotted in the numerous buttons in place. Tigris ground her teeth in irritation. Roche pulled out the chair in front of the large dresser. Tigris sat back, looking at the tangled mess that was her hair. She noticed Roche chewing her lip and tilting her hair contemplatively as she examined Tigris in the mirror.

"Roche?"

"Mhm?"

"Do you even know how to do hair?"

Roche blinked, biting her lip harder. She grabbed a jeweled accessory comb from the dresser. "Sure I do."

Before Tigris could warn her, Roche inserted the comb into Tigris' long, light, red gold hair. The princess' eyes watered as Roche pulled the comb back, yanking on her scalp. There was a small snap, and Roche lifted the comb out of Tigris' hair with bewilderment. It had snapped in two.

"No you don't!" Tigris snapped, grabbing the pieces of the comb before Roche could try to use them again. She jerked the drawer open, pulling out the appropriate brush and hair creams. Roche stepped back with a sheepish smile as Tigris began to properly brush her hair.

"Sorry," Roche said quietly, fingering her own short hair, "I... haven't had much practice." Her sudden meekness was infuriating.

"I'm sure. You look like you just rolled out of bed with that hair." Tigris griped. Roche blushed furiously.

"I did."

"Of course you did." Tigris sighed, steepling her fingers. "As per our agreement, now is the time for you to back off."

Roche nodded, holding up her hands complacently. Tigris tried not to let the extra set of eyes unnerve her. Roche was disturbingly silent as she stood there, just watching Tigris work a detangling serum through her waves.

"So, what's on my schedule today?" Tigris asked, trying to break the silence. Roche startled, much to Tigris' amusement, but quickly straightened.

"You'll be attending a council meeting first thing. Then you'll be training the knights. You'll be preparing the patrol routes and organizing shifts. Then it'll be time for lunch. Then-"

"There's more?" Tigris whined, yelping as her brush got caught on another tangle in her hair. Roche winced sympathetically.

"It gets better after lunch. It's mostly just training for you. And then you get to visit the market and," Roche paused to check the stack of papers she'd previously used to make notes, "Forge relations with local merchants. I think that's the noble way of saying 'buy what you want'."

Tigris snorted at the quip and Roche flashed her a small, almost shy grin before Tigris realised she was laughing at a joke from Roche. How pathetic. Tigris rolled her eyes at Roche's amusement.

"So are you going to be following me around all day?" Tigris asked as casually as she could, carefully arranging her styled waves. To her relief, Roche shook her head.

"Not all day. I have things to do as well like cleaning this place up, doing your laundry that I'll do before and after you wake up. But during the day, I'll do whatever you'd like me to do. It's up to you." Roche replied, fidgeting. An idea sparked in Tigris' mind. One that made her gleeful.

"Up to me?" she purred. Roche blanched.

"Uh oh."

"Well, in that case, Roche, it looks like you and I are going to be having a lot of fun today." Tigris replied sweetly, fluttering her lashes.

Roche's groan echoed off the walls.

-------

"You're doing better than my former maids have." Tigris cheerfully proclaimed, bring her broadsword down again. Roche went flying back on the impact against the shield he held. She stayed on the ground, her clothes peppered with bits of mud and grass. The maid had traded her patched up gown for a pair of trousers and a training vest. Tigris had found a few practice pieces of plate armour to spare, and they were now fastened tightly across Roche's chest, matching the rusted helmet on her head, masking her expression. Tigris almost wished she could see her face, but all she could see was Roche's hazel eyes through the thin slit in the helmet. Currently, Roche's eyes were screwed tight in pain. She stayed flat on her back, splayed out against the muddy backdrop of churned grass.

"Oh really?" Roche groaned, "Do you knock all your maids on their asses?"

"Usually with the first blow." Tigris replied, "You lasted three, that's impressive."

"Impressive enough to stop?" Roche asked hopefully. Tigris smirked.

"Not even close. Get up!" She kicked at Roche's worn boots.

Roche whined, climbing to her feet. Tigris could hear the scowl in her voice as she asked, "Why swords?"

"What?"

Roche nodded at the glimmering broadsword currently clenched in Tigris' gloved hand. "You have guns to fight with. They're quicker and you can stay further away from your enemy. I've looked through the ancient records for Verita before, and swords were used ages ago, before the second dark age."

Tigris hid her surprise. She hadn't known that Roche had even researched a thing. She thought that the books Roche read involved fairies and dragons and childish things that matched her wide, faraway eyes.

"You saw what Lord Luctus did to Aodh's bullet, right?" Tigris hefted her sword, letting the sunlight cast over it in warm, rippling beams, "Inkbloods are wily. They can perform incantations to stall time and stop bullets, but it'll take a lot of energy and concentration. A gunshot can be ignored, with training. But a sword fight in close quarters would break the strongest inkblood's concentration."

Roche's eyes held a strange gleam under the helmet. Tigris pursed her lips. It seemed that Lord Luctus' attempts had scared her new handmaiden more than she'd thought.

She couldn't decide if that was pathetic or a testament to Roche's bravery.

"Well, if you think you can distract me for any longer, you have another thing coming. Shield!" Tigris barked. Roche's eyes widened, and she barely managed to raise her dented shield before Tigris swiped her blade down. Roche stumbled, but didn't fall.

"Sword!"

Roche hastily flung her sword arm out, yelping when Tigris twisted her sword. Roche's sword was wrenched out of her grasp, spearing into the ground.

"That's cheating!" Roche huffed, eyes flashing. She pulled off her helmet, scowling at Tigris, "You didn't teach me defense against disarming techniques!"

Tigris rolled her eyes. "I'm the one who's training here, not you!"

"Yeah, well, I've never even held a sword in my life. Forgive me if I can't duel with you like a seasoned warrior, my lady." Again, Roche somehow managed to inject more sarcasm than socially acceptable into the title. Tigris couldn't stop her smirk. She whacked Roche's chest with the flat of her blade.

"Then it's a good thing that you have to do what I say. Pick up your sword and put your helmet back on before I cut your hair even shorter."

Roche groaned, hoisting her shield. Tigris sank back into a defensive position when a servant boy raced through the muddy field, waving his hands as he ran.

"My lady!" he called, panting as he got closer, "King Romulus has summoned you."

"I'm a bit busy." Tigris pointed out crossly, turning to Roche, "You're the one who said I was scheduled for training. Did you mess up my schedule?"

"She didn't, my lady." the serving boy said before Roche could get a word in, "He says there's been a development and he urgently requires his children to be at his side. He's at the infirmary."

Tigris' mind leapt to Finn, sickly pale and struggling for breath. She sheathed her sword, grabbing Roche by the wrist. Roche stumbled over her boots, slowing them both down. Tigris clenched her jaw.

"Keep up, will you?"

"Sorry, this stupid helmet is impossible to see in!" Roche exclaimed, yanking it off her head. They raced through the muddy field, dirtying both their clothes. Tigris' mind was a whirlwind of worry as they sprinted into the castle. Her heart pounded in tandem with the beat of her thoughts, a steady stream of Finn, Finn, Finn.

Tigris' legs burned and Roche was sucking in large gulps of air when they finally made it to the infirmary. Tigris shoved open the doors, her thoughts collapsing into silence. She dipped into a hasty curtsy, relief blossoming in her chest. Finn and Aodh were already standing next to their father, both tall and healthy. Her breath whooshed out of her.

"My lord," Tigris greeted, trying to pretend that she hadn't raced all the way over, "You sent for me?"

The king pulled away from the small wooden desk tucked into the corner of the room near an assortment of plants with dangling leaves sitting in white pots and varying heights. Leinos straightened as well, bowing to Tigris.

"I did," the king confirmed, pointing at Leinos, "I need you and Aodh to organize the knights to send patrols out into the lower towns. We have reports of the Wailer's Curse in the town of Tribus."

The name tickled a part of Tigris' brain. She frowned. "Tribus? That's merely a five day ride from the castle."

"Indeed," the king mused. Leinos pulled away from the desk, holding out a communication device, a small sheet of paper sticking out of it. Not many places had these kinds of communication devices anymore considering their expensive nature. Most towns only had one. The castle had a few, one in communication with each head of every kingdom for information exchange. Up to Tigris' knowledge, Tribus only had one such device at the edge of the town.

"A former apprentice of mine managed to send me this information before he fell victim to the curse himself." Leinos explained as Tigris tore the fresh sheet of paper from the device. The document was a mix of somewhat blurry pictures and scrawled handwriting replicated in ink. The images were grotesque, even in black and white. They showed a long stretch of grasslands heaped with bodies in various stages of decay. Tigris swallowed seeing a hand sticking out of the masses.

Another image showed a child, face stretched into a ghastly wail that tugged at its cheeks and its eyes. The poor infant looked like a living, elongated skeleton.

"The notes he sent only confirmed my suspicions. The illness is spreading even quicker than we thought. It is the work of a powerful inkblood." Leinos continued.

Tigris glanced at her brothers.

"When did you receive this message?" the king asked, his face passive as he surveyed the document himself.

Leinos grimaced. "Merely half an hour ago, my lord."

The king pinned Leinos with a hard stare. "During the update this morning, you told me that the latest infections were at the Plagia garrisons. That is a two day horse ride from Tribus."

Leinos nodded, his face grave. "That is why I needed to inform you urgently, your majesty. This rate of infection is unnatural, even for the Wailer's Curse. There must be something accelerating the spread."

"Accelerating its approach to the Faultless City, you mean." a new voice corrected from the doorway. Tigris whirled, finding a somber looking Verita standing there. The old librarian dipped into a curtsy, her long black robes fluttering. Her arms were noticeably empty of any documents

"Verita," the king raised, bidding her to rise with a wave of his hand, "Have you found a possible cause for this unnatural spreading?"

Verita's eye twitched almost imperceptibly. "As you may recall, sire, a large number of the documents I had about the curse were destroyed by your order." she replied evenly. Tigris schooled her expression into neutrality as her mind burst with shock. Destroyed? How had Roche gotten her hands on those documents before they could be burned?

Finn and Aodh seemed to be wondering the same thing. They all turned their gazes towards Roche. The maid's lips twitched slightly, but she stared straight ahead innocently. Tigris found herself forcing away a grin. Roche, you sly dog.

"However from what I recall, the curse can be accelerated if the caster of the incantation begins travelling towards the target of the curse." Verita continued

The air went still. King Romulus' blue eyes hardened into ice, his cheekbones becoming stark with shadows.

"An inkblood is travelling to the Faultless City?" he hissed, hand drifting to his weapons belt. Verita pursed her lips.

"Unfortunately, that seems to be the case." Verita replied, bowing her head. The king's jaw clenched. He spun towards Tigris.

"I need you to gather your finest knights. They need to intercept this inkblood before they reach the city." he ordered. Tigris curtsied, antsy energy filling her limbs. Finally, she could do something about this curse that didn't involve reading.

"We'll ride out in an hour." she promised. Her father's eyes flickered.

"You will be staying here." the king said coldly. Tigris blinked, shock stirring in her.

"What?" she repeated, "I must go!"

"You can't risk yourself." her father snapped, stalking over to Tigris. He loomed over her, just an inch taller. His eyes were more frigid than she'd ever seen. Sizzling ire began to burn in Tigris' chest like a second heart.

"How will my men respect me if I cower in a castle while they risk their lives with an inkblood?" she hissed, "How can I sit here and let them risk their lives, being too much of a coward to risk my own?"

The king crossed his arms stubbornly, stoking the embers of her anger. "I cannot risk you falling victim to this curse, Tigris. There's no cure!"

"So I must risk my knights?" Tigris retorted, feeling her cheeks heat with her anger, "What type of leader would that make me?"

"A wise one!" the king snapped, his hand lifting slightly like he wanted to push her aside like an annoying gnat, "Have you considered who the target of this curse is? It is most certainly our family!"

"So the knights will be risking their lives for me?" Tigris scoffed. Her father's hand came down on her shoulder, as unforgiving as a gavel. He shook her.

"That's enough insolence from you!" he snarled, "I expected better from you, Tigris."

The words were like a bucket of ice water, dousing the flames of her fury. Tigris trembled, holding back the mix of helplessness and rage crashing through her veins. The king tore his gaze away from hers, stepping back.

"I will not risk losing this kingdom's heir. You will not be riding out. See to it that you get your best knights out of the city by dusk." the king ordered. He stopped walking a few paces away from her, his shoes clicking against the ground like miniature gunshots. "Is that clear?"

Tigris felt like she was burning. She could see the faces of the men she would send out, her strongest. The ones whose talents she'd cultivated, the ones who'd she'd ridden out with for hunts and patrols. She stared at the ground, picturing their warped faces in black and white, replacing those in the photos Leinos had shared.

Death wasn't an uncommon threat to knights. But Tigris never thought she'd be forced to abandon them. Especially not with a threat as strong as inkblood.

"Father," Aodh interrupted softly, "Perhaps I can ride out with the knights instead-"

"None of you are going!" the king shouted. The outburst was so loud and sudden that Tigris couldn't stop her flinch. "The knights will go! Do I make myself clear?"

His voice echoed off the walls. Tigris sucked in a long breath, her fingers curling into fists. She could hear a delicate, feminine voice in her ears, one she hadn't heard in many years.

A wise woman keeps her burning on the inside.

She dipped her head. It felt like the drop of an executioner's blade. The king's eyes were stormy and speculative.

"Excellent." the king's voice had softened, "I know it is not easy, but have faith in your knights. You trained them and they are strong. They will defeat this inkblood."

Tigris stared at the ground resolutely, shame clawing its way up her veins.

"I should go organize the knights that'll be going." Tigris gritted out.

The king nodded. He approached Tigris almost hesitantly. Tigris could feel Roche stiffening as he came closer, placing a hand on Tigris' shoulder much more delicately this time. Her skin crawled.

"Have faith," the king repeated, his eyes shining with a mix of satisfaction and devastation, "This inkblood will be dealt with soon. Your knights are strong enough."

Tigris hoped that would be the case. She glanced back at Leinos' document, abandoned on the floor, a strange rush of dread washing over her.

The faces in the photos stared back at her unforgivingly. Their mouths seem to twist and sneer with the words said by the familiar voices of her knights: your fault, your fault, your fault.

A/N: TLDR: Roche being a cheeky little shit while Tigris panics. The beginning of this chapter might have been one of the funniest scenes I've written in a while lol.

What did y'all think of the chapter? As always, I love to see any criticism so leave it in the comments below! Enjoy!