Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They’d all said it once already. Back when the three of them had gotten together not so long ago in that messy, broken but oh, so worth it way of theirs. They’d said it once already. As a reassurance, a declaration, as a confession. As an oath.

Their oaths, taken in the soft hours of moonlight in the presence of only each other and their sprens as their witnesses. It was imperfect, but so were they.

The first time had been difficult, but less. Not less real or less truth, however. It had been difficult, nearly impossible.

It was the second time that had been a confirmation. Of their fears, their care, their hopes.

And their love.

The first time it happened after the they’d gotten together had been a promise. Another reassurance.

Adolin woke up to the feeling of his bed dipping and someone getting up from it. He had gotten used to waking up at this time of night, late into the high rise of Nomon and it’s pale blue glow. He didn’t move, listening to the shuffle of cloths and quiet steps going around the room in a rhythm he was familiar with now. Kaladin wasn’t with them tonight. It was just the two of them, which meant tonight would leave him alone.

A shadow fell over the window, coming in the way of the moonlight. Adolin opened his eyes.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Adolin looked up, a bit surprised to hear his wife’s voice, expecting the sharp tone of Veil. But of course, there was no veil hiding his wife’s secrets from him anymore, it was herself who did it now. He knew that was unfair, she had shared with him far more than she ever had before. She stood as a silhouette against the soft light.

“It’s okay,” Adolin said, voice rough from sleep. “You didn’t wake me,” he lied.

“Well, just go back to sleep. I’m going to get some work done,” she said. He saw her put on her satchel, tucking spheres in hidden places in her cloths he knew intimately.

He hummed as he closed his eyes. “Don’t I get a goodbye kiss?” He never would have asked this to Veil before. The ruffle of swishing cloths stopped. Adolin opened his eyes again.

Shallan actually hesitated, looking away. Something twisted in his chest painfully. Before he could go back on his word and tell her he was teasing, or say he was too sleepy to properly enjoy it anyway, or some other excuse to badly attempt to mask the hurt, Shallan bent over him, her tangle of red hair completely curtaining the moonlight. She kissed him slow and deep, and despite his earlier hurt, he couldn’t help leaning into her.

It ended far too soon but he knew it had to. She straightened slightly above him and gave him a smile. He returned it easily. What else was he to do in the face of that smile?

She turned away then and walked towards the door. Adolin felt a sudden inevitability, as if the moment she closed the door behind him would be the moment he lost his chance; for what, he didn’t know.

He got up on his bed, dropping his feet to the soft rug.

“Shallan,” he called. She turned towards him at the last moment from the door, waiting expectantly. The sight of that bright copper hair instead of dark brown did not make this easier as he had hoped.

He opened his mouth, closed it, then smiled. “Good luck,” he said simply.

She smiled back, ducked her head in acknowledgement, then turned away and walked out the door.

Adolin sighed as it clicked shut, knowing he wouldn’t go back to sleep. Maybe he could find Kaladin. Maybe he would know what to make of this, that Adolin was lovesick for his own wife. He was a surgeon, wasn’t he? He’d know what was wrong.

But no, bridgeboy needed his sleep. Adolin wasn’t going to wake him just because he couldn’t say what he needed to. He exhaled softly, he’d thought getting together as the three of them was supposed to make this easier. But apparently, nothing in his life came easy.

“What do you say, Maya? In for some midnight training?” He asked, his voice feeling too loud in the silence now that he was alone.

I’m always ready.

Adolin smiled. He wasn’t alone tonight.

.

They were having breakfast, in their rooms in the Tower. He hadn’t asked her about a few nights ago and she hadn’t mentioned it either. He didn’t have the complicated emotions of a late night this time and he wondered what he’d been worked up about anyway. By this point, Adolin knew the worth of a simple moment shared between the warmth of a meal being just an excuse for the warmth of the company. Kaladin had woken up early, as usual, and had left without breakfast to go off for his day, according to Shallan. Apparently, Shallan had woken up when he had but had gone back to sleep. Adolin had been knocked out, with no knowledge of when anything happened at all. His time with the people he loved had managed to dull his sharp alertness of a battlefield but not so much that it was a liability during a fight.

Kaladin had gone with a promise of returning soon after checking on his men and patients with a peck on her cheek. Shallan had all but bragged about it teasingly. Adolin pouted like a child. “It’s not fair at all.”

Shallan shrugged, a gleam in her eye. It was good to see that mischievous look return again. It was good to have Shallan be herself after such a long time.

“Early chicken gets the worm,” she commented, picking up a piece of bread and tearing it in half.

“Shallan,” Adolin said, pointing his own curry-dripping bread at her, trying—and failing—to summon Kaladin’s unimpressed stare. He was grinning too much for it. “You rise the latest among us three.”

Pattern hummed from somewhere near Shallan’s sleeve and Adolin could swear that it was in affirmation.

“How dare you, I have work to do!” Shallan retorted, putting her free hand over her chest in mock offense. “Especially now that I can’t just have Veil do it for me. Besides, it’s you who is always giving the two of us lectures about using stormlight as an alternative for sleep.”

Adolin shrugged. “Fair enough. It is a habit you two need to break. Anyway, I’m not saying you shouldn’t sleep.”

It was true. Heralds only knew, sleep was the least of what the two of them deserved. That had been another problem after they’d decided to share a bed at night. All three of them were prone to having nightmares, although it was a rare occasion when Adolin had any. It wasn’t that much trouble to imagine what happened when one’s nightmares triggered another but they’d found a balance. They’d worked for it, like they did for everything else but Adolin knew they all silently agreed it was worth it.

Shallan only smiled at him and went back to her food. They ate in silence after that. Adolin shifted in his seat, suddenly feeling like he ought to say something more. The silence felt heavy between them. Perhaps, he was thinking too much about it.

He wished Kaladin was here. He and Shallan always managed to find one topic or another to talk about, or just bicker over nothing or exchange jokes with each other too fast for Adolin to understand. They worked well with each other, even if they didn’t see it. Adolin did, however. He saw a lot, contrary to what people usually thought about him. Shallan and Kaladin looked so good together sometimes, it made Adolin wonder what he was doing between them anyway.

But then Kaladin would catch his seemingly confused look and explain to him the joke with a roll of his eyes, grumbling about the terrible joke despite the twitch of his mouth or Shallan would turn to him to ask his opinion regarding a topic they would be arguing about, explaining it to him briefly or just simply ask him to play the mediator between the two when they were arguing over nothing and Adolin would get back to his drink with a smile playing at his lips.

They chose him. Almighty, they chose him. Two of the most wonderful, strongest, sharpest and kindest  people he knew—so amazing that they were Knight Radiants— and they chose him. Both of them. Sometimes he wondered what good he’d done in his life that he managed to get not one but two incredible people in his life. If he hadn’t known the Almighty to be dead, Adolin would’ve never gotten up from his knees in gratitude, burning a thousands glyphwards in thanks. But because he couldn’t be grateful to the Almighty, he’d be grateful to them instead. Adolin thought that was more appropriate anyway. He still had a difficult time believing this was all real sometimes.

He wished he could give everything they deserved to them both. But he knew that this was not how it worked. They were at war and he knew how close they came to losing everything every moment.

He still remembered the disorientation he’d felt when returning from Shadesmar, finding his home had been invaded and almost conquered behind his back and he’d have been none the wiser. That realisation—that any of this fragile, false sense of peace they found themselves in could be broken anytime—had partially been what spurred them to reach some other realisations of their own regarding each other.

From there, It had taken a lot of effort and strength to actually confess those realisations to each other but if ever asked, Adolin would always say that it was worth it ten times over. He frowned, hesitating, looking up at Shallan who was still absorbed in some thought.

He knew they were at war, and he knew that the time they had together was a luxury, he also knew that meant they should try to cherish it as much as they can but didn’t that also mean he should tell the people he loved that he loved them as much as he could? He shook those thoughts away. Surely, they knew already, they didn’t need to be told, much less by him who they were already doing a favour to by even being with him.

He felt a pulse of concern in his mind and knew it was from Maya. She was too far in Shadesmar from him to know his thoughts—away on a scouting mission—but he must have been thinking too hard for her to have sensed his feelings of unease. He tried to send back reassurance to her and from the lack of response, knew she’d gotten it. That was strange too, being able to share his thoughts and feelings with another directly from his mind. Not necessarily unpleasant, it was good to not have to explain everything for once to someone.

Perhaps it was him feeling sentimental today for some reason but he realised he had more reasons to be grateful in his life than he could count on his hand. Shallan, Kaladin, Maya, his brother and. . .

His deep thoughts were broken when Shallan got up from the table. Adolin looked up from his plate, startled, just seeing that he’d forgotten to finish his meal.

“You’re done eating?” He asked.

“Hmm?” Shallan turned back to him. “Oh, yes, I am.”

“I see,” Adolin replied uncertainly. He wondered what it was that nagged at him still. “Any plans today?” He asked, more in politeness than anything, but also because he suddenly found himself wishing for excuses to keep the conversation going. He cursed himself. He’d wanted to talk to Shallan over breakfast but he’d stupidly gotten lost in thought.

“Yes, actually,” Shallan replied simply. Adolin blinked, reminding himself what she’d just answered to.

“Can’t tell me about it?” He asked. It wasn’t an accusation or curiosity, just plain confirmation. She’d recently started telling him more about her work in the Unseen Court and the Ghostbloods but nothing that would compromise important information regarding her secret missions—for obvious reasons. He knew it took a great amount of strength for her to share things with him but she’d began trying and Adolin wasn’t going to push her for more. He still felt guilty from a few nights ago when he’d almost blamed her for her secrets. He’d been right to think she simply needed time.

She hesitated. “Not that. I will, when I return. I just want to do it first.”

He nodded simply, letting her know it was alright with him. “I thought you were going to wait until Kaladin returned,” Adolin continued, now sounding whiny.

“It’s okay. I’m sure he’ll be fine with only you being here,” Shallan replied, already wearing her satchel she kept ready for mornings. Adolin paused. Was it him thinking too much again or was that a note of. . . bitterness in her tone? Over what? For whatever reason? He knew he didn’t have the sharpest mind but he knew people—usually, at least.

He suddenly figured out why the quiet had felt so uneasy earlier instead of their usual comfortable silence. It was because it shouldn’t be so quiet when it was Shallan with him, because it shouldn’t be Shallan who lets a conversation drop, especially after someone just made their own point. She loved making her quips and retorts, leaving Adolin speechless in a way he didn’t mind at all.

Shallan was at the door now, considering their conversation over—if it could be called that.

Adolin looked after her, having nothing else to say now to keep her. Except one thing; the truth. He could hear Pattern’s buzz in his mind even when he knew the spren was leaving with Shallan.

He shouldn’t have need to tell her he loved her. Shallan knew. They’d married. They’d stayed together throughout their highs and lows. He’d said it before to her several times.

And none of it mattered.

When faced with an impossible decision, always make the choice that helps you sleep at night.

Funny to have Zahel’s words echo in his mind at this moment, the ardent who Adolin could never imagine going to for love advice. But then, love was a little like war too; he was learning.

And Adolin didn’t want to live with regret in either.

“I love you,” he said. Shallan froze with her hand on the door handle. “You know that right?” He asked.

She turned towards him with an almost shocked expression on her face which told him that she did not , in fact, just know that. Maybe she did. Maybe it was different to let yourself believe it sometimes.

Adolin was an idiot. He stood up, crossed the distance between them with two long strides and pulled her in his arms.

“I love you,” he whispered again, repeating it as if saying it enough times will make her believe him, until it settled in her mind like a rock through mud.

“I love Kaladin,” he said, “and I love you.” He said it like the fact that it was. He remembered saying these exact words to her before. It didn’t matter. He’d say it tens of times if he had to, because he wanted to, because he could.

“I love you, Shallan, so much that—both of you—storms, I don’t know how to even tell you.” Because how did you tell someone everything you felt for them when you felt so much? How did he explain the warmth every time he saw her or Kaladin? The complicated swirl of emotions every time it started to settle on him that this was real. He was here. He was with them. He was happy.

She still stood frozen in his arms for a moment before he felt her wrap her own arms around him, her hands fisting in his shirt on his back. She trembled as she exhaled shakily, breath ghosting over his chest where her forehead rested. He just held her, quietly, not expecting any response. They stayed like that for a long moment, whatever Shallan was about to leave for apparently forgotten, just in each others’ arms and this time, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable or uneasy, it just was. Because there were no more words unspoken anymore that were stuck in his throat, weighing him down.

“How?” She whispered it so lightly he almost didn’t catch it.

He was about to ask when she lifted her head, looking at him, tears in her eyes. Her expression contained everything from disbelief, uncertainty and fear to relief, gratitude and a little bit of bewilderment.

“How can you still. . . ? After everything you know. . .”

“Shallan,” he said, a little dazed that he even needed to say so, but he did, so he would, “the more I know about you, the more it makes me love you.”

And that was true as well. The more he learned, of everything they had been through, everything they had had to do, after everything life threw at them, they stood back up. They chose strength. They chose life. They chose love. Chose him. Was there any single thing in this world that was more wonderful than that?

She seemed shocked by his words. How could she not know? Then she gave him a wet smile and he knew he would do anything to just be able to keep that expression on her face.

“You’re insane,” she said, nuzzling her face up to his shoulder. He chuckled as he held her tighter.

“Maybe,” he said in a sing-song voice, “but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She kept looking at him, tears finally falling as her eyes squinted from her smile. Adolin saw the moment the doubt emerged again, her smile wavering, then fading as she looked away from him.

“You. . .” she began, trailing off. Adolin kept quiet, giving her time, not saying anything.

“You’re a good man, Adolin. So is Kaladin. Both of you. . . I don’t think anyone in Roshar could call the two of you bad people. You- you’re compassionate and caring and kind . And Kaladin- you know him. Stubborn bridgeboy, honourable to a fault, protective and honest - and-. . . I’m. . .” He saw the fear take hold. Her hair started bleeding into blonde and Adolin’s heart broke, if he had said it sooner, could he have protected her from her mind?

But it wasn’t his place to. He just had to be there. He wanted to explain, to tell her every single reason he loved her until he ran out of breath and ran out of life because there were so many. But knew that right now she didn’t need an explanation. She just needed him. It still felt strange to think of it, that someone like her could need him but even if she didn’t, he would be there anyway.

“I love you, Shallan,” he repeated, saying her name on purpose. She had stiffened in his arms but hadn’t pulled back. Radiant would have stepped away. “Despite everything, because of everything, because you’re wonderful. I love you, I always will, and that will never change. Same with bridgeboy, loving him will never mean I love you less and you know it.”

Her hair bled back to copper with a shaky exhale. He ran his hands through them, untangling the wild curls as he did. She melted into him and he just held her.

“You and Kaladin are good for each other,” she muttered. Adolin laughed, still holding her. He’d never thought he’d hear this before.

“You know it’s the same thing Kaladin says about us two all the time,” he answered to her quizzical look at his laughter.

“And it’s not true? We’re not good for each other?” She asked, a bit of her previous mischief returning as she asked him a question he knew she’d worded as a trick. Well, he might not be the sharpest sword in the ring but he knew his wife. He also knew there was genuine doubt in her tone.

“We are. I know you’re good for me,” he confirmed, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. “But we’re better with Kaladin around, even if he tries his best to convince us otherwise sometimes.”

She looked away from him. “You don’t understand, I’m not. I’m not good for. . .”

He took her chin in his hand and made her look back at him. He needed her to know.

“I understand enough,” he said, staring into her trembling eyes. “You’re sounding exactly like him and you know how stupid he sounds when he says stuff like that.” She smiled then and he smiled back. “Did you just call me stupid?” She said. Adolin chuckled, pulling her back in.

“I love you, Shallan.”

He heard Pattern hum from her sleeve and wondered if this was something he had needed to say himself. After all, he could afford to learn from the Lightweaver he loved. He knew she still didn’t believe him. He could see it in her eyes, the look she sometimes got, as if she wasn’t herself, wasn’t anyone Adolin recognised. It worried him but then she kissed him and he kissed back, trying to pour every emotion into the action he couldn’t put in his words. He beamed at her when she pulled back to look at him and he saw that look retreating to wherever it went when Shallan overpowered it. He pressed his cheek on the top of her head, feeling fiercely proud.

“Thank you,” she whispered, genuine gratitude and a little bit of amazement in her voice. Adolin smiled into her hair.

Chapter Text

Adolin walked through the halls of Urithiru with purpose in his steps. He revelled in the warmth of life in the Tower, remembering the first few weeks where the echoes of silence and cold had haunted him wherever he went.

Now, he stopped in front of the door to Kaladin’s room, taking a deep breath, bracing himself. He half hoped Syl would come out to talk to him, tell him about the situation. But she didn’t, so he knocked softly.

He only got silence in return, but he knew Kaladin was in there by some instinct. He knocked again, more insistently. He was halfway convinced about just barging in when the response came, so quiet he almost missed it.

“Come.”

Adolin opened the door and entered. The room was mostly dark with a few small spheres lighting up a corner. Kaladin was at his desk, sorting through some papers with glyphs on them. He sighed in relief; so it wasn’t too bad. He knew that sometimes  it got so worse that Kaladin couldn’t even bother to get up from his bed, but bridgeboy was stubborn and he always pulled through the thick of it.

Didn’t mean Adolin was going to let him do it alone though.

“Not right now, Adolin. I’m busy,” Kaladin said without turning to look at him.

“What are you doing?” Adolin asked, noting Syl’s absence. Maybe she just hadn’t chosen to show herself to him. These days she kept herself visible almost at all times, so Adolin had gotten used to her constant presence.

“Sorting through these reports Sigzil made for me, and some other papers from my group sessions,” Kaladin replied. Adolin nodded. Kaladin had still chosen not to return to the battlefield, despite Dalinar’s offer but he kept track of the events regarding the Windrunners anyway. Adolin thought that was the right decision, he didn’t want Kaladin to go back to the way he was before he’d left for Shadesmar, deteriorating but still worked to the bone. He disagreed with every other decision his father made but had to agree that Dalinar had done the right thing for Kaladin. Besides, Kaladin had found his place with his group—had impossibly made a place there. Adolin knew he was doing important work there, and it was just as important for Kaladin as for anyone else.

He gave Kaladin a once-over, noting the dark circles under his eyes, the slight tension in his jaw.

“Well, that’s a shame. I thought we could have a spar together,” Adolin said idly. He did want to spar with him as much as he wanted to do it to provide him a distraction, truthfully. But he didn’t know whether Kaladin needed it anymore now that Adolin knew he was keeping himself rightfully busy. He knew that Kaladin often took over more work than he could handle just to stay away from his thoughts, so that was something he needed to be wary of as well.

“Sorry, I can’t right now. Some other time,” came Kaladin’s clipped response. He still wasn’t looking at him. The decision made itself for Adolin right there; they were having a spar. But he had to be careful not to force him into it.

“Why not? It’ll take your mind off the work and it’s a good day out,” Adolin offered, leaning himself against Kaladin’s desk instead of sitting at his bed.

Kaladin’s room was small and while he mostly stayed with them in their shared quarters or his family or just with his men in the barracks, he sometimes spent the night in his personal room—mostly when he got one of his moods that made him pull away from everyone else.

“Because I don’t want to spar with you, Adolin. I want to be alone,” Kaladin snapped, looking up at him finally with a frown. Adolin knew he didn’t mean the words—he never meant anything he said when he was feeling bad—but they still stung slightly. Something about it must have shown in his expression, because immediate guilt passed over Kaladin’s eyes and he raised a hand towards him. Adolin took it, squeezing slightly.

“I’m sorry, Adolin. You shouldn’t be here. I’m not going to be good company today.” Kaladin’s voice was soft now, tone apologetic and regretful.

“Frankly, Kaladin, I think it’s a little unfair,” Adolin said. Kaladin gave him a confused glance, hand still in his.

“What made you think we only want to spend time with you when you’re good company?” Adolin asked in explanation. Kaladin’s confused frown deepened. “Isn’t that how it works?” he asked.

“No, besides, if Shallan was here, she’d tell you that you’re never good company, so it’s okay. But since she isn’t here, you have to imagine some quip from her yourself.”

This made Kaladin smile slightly, looking down.

Success. A little at least. Adolin didn’t know how to take his mind off his dark thoughts like Shallan did, but in her absence he could at least remind him of her. Besides, he knew Shallan wasn’t in the mind to deal with Kaladin’s problems right now. It worried him but he knew she could deal with it. He’d said what he had to. Now he had to be there for Kaladin.

“I don’t think I could. Coming up with something as clever and unpredictable as her would be impossible,” Kaladin said, looking fond as he did. He looked to the side, as if listening to someone. So Syl was present. Adolin wondered why she hadn’t shown herself to him. He didn’t mind. Even spren needed their privacy.

He smiled at Kaladin teasingly. “I’m going to tell her you called her unpredictable.”

Kaladin looked up at him, then his smile faltered as he broke his gaze. He took his hand out of Adolin’s and crossed his arms on the desk, frowning at them intently, papers forgotten.

“I’ll be fine, Adolin. You don’t need to worry about me,” Kaladin said quietly.

Adolin squeezed his shoulder from where he stood, noting the tension in his muscles. It still felt strange to feel only smooth skin under the fabric of his shirt instead of the knotted scars he knew Kaladin had; those had healed along with his brands. Kaladin looked a different man without them, softening his features. The healing of the brands seemed to have taken a burden off his chest that they didn’t even know about.

Still, as Kaladin was intent on telling him, the oaths didn’t fix them entirely. It didn’t matter to Adolin, he was going to stay with them through whatever journey they needed to take to heal themselves.

“You should leave,” Kaladin whispered, turning away from him.

Adolin was about to respond in refusal when he heard a feminine sigh. He turned his head to look at Syl, in her full form, sitting on Kaladin’s desk and dangling her legs.

“No you shouldn’t, Adolin. He’s being stupid,” she said to him. Adolin smiled as Kaladin scowled at her.

“I’m fine, Syl. I told you, it’s not so bad that I can’t be alone. I’ll reach out to someone if it gets worse.”

“Does that mean Adolin can’t be here anyway?” Syl retorted. She huffed in a way that told him they’d had this conversation before.

“You heard her,” Adolin muttered. Kaladin glared at him in a way that said, you stay out of this, princeling. Adolin grinned in response.

“You don’t want him to go, admit it.” Syl pointed at Kaladin accusingly.

“Bah! Storming spren,” Kaladin grumbled, turning away from both of them, crossing his arms. Adolin smiled, a little relieved as well. He honestly hadn’t known if Kaladin wanted him around or not and this was as good as an admission he was going to get out of him. He threw a grateful glance at Syl, who smiled at him conspiringly. She was wearing a Bridge Four uniform and her luminous light was warm in the otherwise dim room.

“Fine, I’ll spar with you,” Kaladin declared. “If it will make you both get off my back.” He stood up abruptly and started moving out of the room. Adolin stood straight as well, but caught his arm before he could walk out.

“Kaladin, I want to spar with you, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he said. Kaladin hesitated, looking away.

“No one’s going to force you in this, bridgeboy. We don’t want to,” he added. He hoped the deeper meaning would get across. This wasn’t just about a spar, but Adolin didn’t want to give voice to the other things, afraid of what he’ll get in return.

Kaladin met his eyes, then nodded with a sigh that deflated his shoulders. Adolin didn’t know whether he understood or not but Kaladin looked at him again, this time determined.

“Let’s spar, Kholin.”

They found an empty sparring ground away from the public. Adolin knew Kaladin didn’t like having an audience to their bouts. Adolin could understand, though he didn’t mind if a few soldiers found motivation by looking at him doing something he was going to do anyway. Anything to get morale up—Roshar knew they needed it.

Kaladin stood at the other end of the ring. He was wearing a simple white shirt and brown pants today. He gathered up his hair, a small hair tie caught between his teeth. He tied up his hair hastily, though a few strands fell to frame his face even before he finished tying. He huffed and pushed them back with a hand, though they didn’t stay where they were kept. Kaladin’s hair were as wild as he.

Adolin covered up a smile, his heart skipping a beat in his chest at the sight. He wondered how he’d gone so long without knowing he liked Kaladin, it was so storming obvious now that he’d already realised it. He shook his head, he’d long since stopped trying to make sense of matters of the heart.

“Ground rules?” Kaladin asked.

“Let’s keep it simple. Practice weapons, no shards or stormlight,” Adolin responded, picking out a wooden practice sword. Kaladin nodded, taking his own wooden spear with a blunted metal end at the tip to make up for the weight.

They both walked up to the ring and fell in stance wordlessly. They’d sparred together enough times by now to know each other, falling into a familiar rhythm easily. It had been a while since they’d done this. The war with Odium’s forces consumed both of their times, each busy in their own responsibilities. So Adolin relished in whatever time together he could get with any of them.

They circled each other in the grounds, neither making a move first. Kaladin seemed to be looking better already as compared to when he’d been cooped up in that dark room. Sunlight did a lot of him, Adolin had found.

He smiled, letting the familiarity of windstance take over him. He had missed this.

Kaladin had known from the moment he’d waken up today, that it was going to be a bad day. He still had them but they were easier to fight now. It had taken him several moments to convince himself to get out of his bed. Several more to dress, or eat, or do anything else at all.

Some days, being with others helped, made him forget even if the guilt of forgetting, or relishing in what he had consumed him later. Other days, being around others only overwhelmed him, until he brought the mood down of everyone else around him.

He hadn’t known what kind of day he was going to have today, so he had kept to himself, promising Syl that he would reach out for help if it got too bad.

But Adolin had found him before that. He always did. Storming man. Warmth bloomed in his chest, pushing off the darkness somewhat.

You will be warm again.

He circled Adolin in the ring, twirling his practice spear in his hand. He already felt better than before—Adolin had that effect on people. A part of him still wanted to pull back, turn Adolin away, go back inside and hide. Kaladin ignored that part of himself with effort. He had spent enough time losing a battle against his own mind that he could sort through the right and wrong moves.

Syl twirled around him and his spear once before shifting to her full form and standing at the side of the ring, watching them curiously. Adolin didn’t seem like he was planning on making the first move, despite his windstance.

Kaladin exhaled softly. And charged at him. He didn’t waste time doing test lunges or swings and went fully into it from the start. For Adolin’s credit, his eyes only widened slightly for a fraction of a moment before he was meeting his attacks head on. They usually went slow in the beginning, momentum building with each attack until they were both left panting. Not today. If Adolin wanted a spar with him, Kaladin would give him a spar.

He stabbed near his shoulder, which Adolin parried expertly and swung at his torso. Kaladin spun his spear and blocked it, wood clattering with wood. Adolin used the momentum of his blocked blow to swing at his legs. Kaladin leapt back but didn’t pull away, going in again with a swipe at his neck. Adolin leaned back at the last moment, just in time to block a stab directed at his chest. He slid his sword along the length of his spear to deflect it and stabbed at his side. Kaladin blocked it by bringing his spear to his side then spun it immediately to hit his legs. Adolin dodged to the side but the spear slid past his thigh in a swipe, not hard enough to hurt. Kaladin might be feeling fierce today but they had sparred enough times together to not do any unintentional damage to each other.

“Mark,” Kaladin said, “to me.”

He realised he was panting. Adolin nodded. He was out of breath too. He easily fell into the rapid rhythm with him, not faltering once. This was the quality of windstance, it was made for adapting, for quick strikes and fast lunges. But it used broad strokes that flowed into one another, it was not made for close distanced exchanges. Kaladin knew all of that now only thanks to Adolin himself.

Adolin must also be thinking what Kaladin was, because he shifted into flamestance instead.

Kaladin nodded at him, skipping backwards on light feet without taking eyes off him, giving him a moment to adjust to the stance. Then he lunged again and their rhythm began anew.

Kaladin liked the feel of the wind parting around his weapon. While some shardblades were big, they weren’t long and flowing like his spear was. He could twist the spear any way he liked. The feel of the shaft twirling in his expert hands was something he could not have with a sword.

Kaladin thought of everything that had happened in his life and it’s connection with the spear. He had given up on fighting to become a surgeon as a child, then gone and become a soldier anyway, not to fight, but to protect; now that he knew everything he did— felt everything he did—he wasn’t sure he would have made the same choice. He wasn’t sure he could choose between the two. He didn’t see why he had to. Not anymore.

He thought of his men, all of them, who had taken strength in learning how to fight from him, most of them had ended up dying anyway, their strength hadn’t saved them. Kaladin’s strength hadn’t saved them. But he liked to think that they appreciated being given a chance, because he thought they deserved it.

Adolin feinted to the left, then slashed at his exposed side. Kaladin sidestepped the attack, then countered with a sweep.

He thought of the invasion that had recently been thwarted. He thought of Teft, whose death still ached like a raw, aching wound. He thought of all the common people who flocked to him sometimes with gratitude in their eyes, everyone who had seen him fight The Pursuer. They had seen him fight when no one else had, did that not make him foolish in their eyes?

They had all seen him fail, fall to his knees in front of the broken body of his friend he was supposed to protect, kneeling in front of another friend he had failed a long time ago. Why did they still have hope in him? If so many people could, couldn’t he do the same for himself?

He glanced towards the side where Syl still stood. He had half expected her to get bored of their fighting and fly off in her curiosity but she watched them—him—intently. She smiled at him encouragingly, perhaps sensing his thoughts.

Kaladin thought of his final fight with The Pursuer. He barely remembered how he had killed him. Everything after Teft’s death had been a blur of pain. He remembered jumping after his father, who he had almost lost to the very same gravity Kaladin commanded. He did not want to feel as he had done back then. He knew that he might in the future again.

He thought of Adolin, always coming back to him, despite his worst days. Of Shallan, who made the burden less heavier with a few words. If he had known back then that he would feel like this with them as he did now, would he have jumped off the Tower to finish himself off? Made a different choice? Would it have mattered to him?

Did it matter now?

Adolin’s practice sword connected to his ribs in a strike that he was too slow to block. Adolin smiled, far too bright to be smug.

“Thats a mark to me,” he said.

Yes it did.

Syl flew in around him in her spren form, spinning around his spear and his head, laughing. Kaladin continued the spar, any thoughts of leaving it halfway fleeing now that he had started. Once he would have resented Adolin for forcing him to feel better, now he felt nothing but gratitude. Spars and katas were usually supposed to take your mind off your thoughts, distract you, until you were singlemindedly engaged in whatever activity you were doing. But Kaladin found himself thinking more as he fought, letting instinct take over. His thoughts drifted but his body never faltered. Adolin must have realised his mind was elsewhere because he had shifted to accommodate to this new pace instead of the rapid strikes they were having earlier, now falling into the cadence they usually had while sparring.

Kaladin’s spear slashed near Adolin’s arm, passing harmlessly instead of cutting, but it was a point. He hadn’t done that intentionally but apparently he fought well enough even without paying attention.

“Mark to you,” Adolin said.

Kaladin didn’t stop to pull back like he usually did whenever a point was scored. Neither did Adolin.

Swearing the fourth ideal had been the most difficult thing Kaladin had ever done in his life. Perhaps because it affected himself more than it did others around him, made him confront a truth he had been avoiding since he had been old enough to think. After swearing it, however, he had managed to let go of some of the guilt he carried, if with effort only. It had been what had convinced him that he deserved to heal, deserved to fight against his mind. That he was not wrong for wanting peace, for wanting life.

Kaladin pulled back, circling Adolin again. Adolin frowned but let him instead of chasing or cutting off his retreat.

If Kaladin felt good, he was not undeserving of it.

But the people around him did not deserve to be pulled down with him just so he could heal. Kaladin should have to do it himself. Alone.

He straightened out of his stance, eyes still on Adolin. “I yield. You win.”

Adolin broke out of his stance as well in shock. “You can’t yield! You were winning.”

“I just did,” Kaladin said, turning away.

“You were winning!” Adolin repeated.

“No, I wasn’t. You win, Adolin. It’s over.” Kaladin started walking towards the weapon’s shelf to put away his practice spear. Adolin caught the crook of his elbow to stop him, making him turn back.

“Fight me, Kaladin.”

“I won’t,” Kaladin frowned, “look, I enjoyed the spar but it’s over now.”

“If you enjoyed the spar then why did you end it?” Adolin asked, looking at him with a challenging eye. Kaladin broke his gaze, sighing.

“You don’t have to do this, Adolin,” Kaladin said, meeting his eyes again with teeth bared in frustration.

Adolin let go of his arm, looking surprised. “Do what?” he asked.

“You don’t have to do—“ Kaladin gestured vaguely, “this,” he finished. “You don’t have to come running every time I’m having a bad day. You don’t have to cheer me up when I’m refusing to think right. You don’t have to pull me out of my room to spar with you.”

His grip tightened on the spear, each word twisting his stomach tighter as he said it, but he had to.

“I appreciate it, I really do. But you don’t have to. Neither you nor Shallan. It’s not either of your responsibility.” He looked away, ignoring the look Syl was giving him. But she was choosing to stay silent.

“So stop acting like it is,” he finished with a whisper, unwilling to look Adolin in the eyes.

“Kaladin.” Adolin grabbed both his shoulders, practice sword clattering to the soft ground. The force of his name being spoken with such weight made him turn to look at him again. His breath hitched to see the sheer determination he found in Adolin’s eyes, as if this was the real duel for him to win.

“When will you understand that we want to?”

“What?” Kaladin asked, genuinely confused as he stared into Adolin’s eyes. Once, their colour might have meant something unpleasant for him. Now they compelled him, beckoned at him, pulled him in. Made him want to listen because they were so genuine and so open. Inviting.

“We want to. Both of us. We like it. We like being able to help when we can. I like it. I want you around. I want to be around you.”

The sincerity was unbearable, so Kaladin looked away. “You shouldn’t,” he said simply.

“How do you know what we should or shouldn’t want? What right do you have to decide it for us?” Adolin’s voice was slightly raised now, more demanding. Kaladin wanted to smack his hands away, pull back, turn away, run. Hide. Instead he squeezed the spear in his hand and rooted his feet to the ground.

“Because I know myself. I know better,” Kaladin snapped, glaring back at Syl who was giving him a stink eye.

“No you don’t,” Adolin snapped back. He was gritting his teeth, perhaps in frustration. Great, he had come here to make Kaladin feel better and he was already starting to feel frustrated himself. This was exactly what he had meant earlier.

Kaladin regarded his words and he wanted to growl in frustration himself. Storm the man, but he was right. Kaladin didn’t know himself. He didn’t know anything.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“When will you get it through your storming thick skull that we want you?” Adolin demanded, pushing his shoulders slightly.

“We want you, Kaladin. We chose! We made the choice, and you can’t take it from us! You may make the choice to not want us but you can’t make us not want you! It’s our choice! And we chose you!”

Kaladin turned towards him sharply. How could he think he didn’t want this?—want him, them? Kaladin pulled back, making Adolin drop his hands. He turned away, then threw his spear to the ground with a frustrated snarl.

He sighed, his energy escaping him suddenly. He didn’t turn towards Adolin again, instead walking to the side to sit at the small bench besides a water barrel, fuming at the truth in Adolin’s words.

Adolin watched him walk away with a helpless vice gripping his heart. Had he said too much? Too forcefully? He did not want to overwhelm him. But experience with Kaladin had made him quickly learn that he needed a more firm approach as compared to Shallan. It wasn’t that he didn’t need gentleness but when he got like this, it was difficult to convince him sometimes by being gentle.

He walked slowly towards him, standing in front of him where he sat. Kaladin didn’t look up for a moment, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing a thumb over his his knuckles.

Kaladin had a mole on the back of his hand, under his thumb. Adolin wanted to kiss it, like he had done so many times before, but he held himself back. After a moment, Kaladin looked up at him, brows furrowed but eyes defeated.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he said, looking to the side. Adolin wanted to interrupt him, tell him he had nothing to be sorry for, but he kept himself, letting him continue.

Kaladin sighed again, rubbing a hand over his forehead before bringing it back down again. “It’s not that I do not want this. I do, I really do. It’s. . . the best thing that ever happened to me in my life. I want this. I want,” Kaladin swallowed, looking up, “you. Both of you.”

He glanced towards the side, perhaps towards Syl, then back at him. “I just. . . don’t know if you should want me.”

Adolin smiled slightly, clenching his hands to keep them towards himself. He didn’t know how Kaladin felt about touch yet.

“We want you anyway, bridgeboy. I want you.” Kaladin smiled slightly at him. Adolin took a deep inhale, because he didn’t know the kind of reaction he was going to get after this.

“I love you, Kaladin,” he said.

Kaladin looked up sharply at him, eyes widening. A sudden wind blew across them gently. Kaladin stared at him for a moment before turning away, shoulders tensing.

“So you’ve said before,” he muttered.

Adolin’s heart throbbed with emotion. He raised a hand and took Kaladin’s cheek in his palm, rubbing his thumb along his temple. He relished in the freedom that he could do this now. Provide comfort with touch and contact instead of just his words as he used to. He could reach out and touch Kaladin instead of only dreaming of it in wanton hours of the night.

“You deserve love, Kaladin,” he whispered.

Kaladin flinched. Adolin almost dropped his hand but Kaladin caught it, hesitating but leaning into slightly.

Kaladin squeezed his hand but turned away from it reluctantly, but instead of dropping it he brought it low in his lap and kept holding it, as if needing an anchor to Adolin.

Adolin sat down on the bench next to him, liking the feeling of Kaladin’s calloused but warm hand around his own. He waited for Kaladin, feeling like there was something more coming, but Kaladin didn’t reply for a long while, so Adolin continued.

“I don’t think,” he said, catching his attention again, “that there is anyone in this world that deserves love as much as you do, Kal,” he said, softer than intended. He had always believed in what he was saying now. It was only recently he had the courage to say it, however. Because it needed to be said. Because Kaladin needed to hear it. Believe it.

Kaladin looked down at Adolin’s hand in his, as if just remembering he was holding it. He reluctantly let it go but Adolin let it stay in his lap, kind of hoping he’d hold it again, missing the warmth immediately. That had been nice. Kaladin looked at him, eyes trailing off again.

“Kaladin,” Adolin said, “whatever your brain is telling you right now? It is not true.”

“How do you know?” Kaladin asked, not as a challenge but sounding like he genuinely needed an answer.

“Do you trust me, Kal?” Adolin asked instead. Kaladin gave him a slight smile, the look in his eyes so soft that it made his breath catch in his lungs.

“I trust you,” he whispered.

“Then trust me when I say this; me and Shallan, we are better with you around. We’re happier. You’ve affected our lives for the better since you came into them. We want you in our lives for as long as they’re there.”

Some of his words were the same as his oaths he’d given to both Kaladin and Shallan, so were his reassurances. Because some of Kaladin’s doubts were also the same. They had both given him tens of reassurances. And Adolin would give him more if he needed it. He could tell a thousand what-ifs were playing in Kaladin’s mind right now but he knew Kaladin was strong enough to shut them down on his own.

He stood up slowly then, took Kaladin’s jaw in his hand much the same way as before and leaned over him. Kaladin looked him in the eyes and leaned forward as well, never breaking eye contact, lashes fluttering slightly, eyes hooded as he closed the distance.

He hesitated at the last moment, gaze dropping to his lips before looking away. Adolin leaned in and caught his lips in a kiss. Kaladin kissed him back immediately, melting into it.

Adolin loved kissing Kaladin. He kissed so differently than Shallan. Kaladin’s kisses were both of a surgeon and a soldier, precise but gentle, adapting but not insistent.

Adolin relished in the softness of his lips, the taste of his mouth. Until he tasted salt. He pulled back, horrified to see tears on Kaladin’s cheeks.

“Kal?” he asked, frantically wiping them with his thumb. Kaladin looked down at himself with shock as well.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“No,” Kaladin shook his head. “No, it’s not your fault. You did nothing. I’m—“ A sob tore through his lips, shaking his shoulders. He looked surprised at the sound he himself made, as if it had escaped his throat without permission.

“I shouldn’t— I don’t know why I’m—“ he sobbed again, tears falling freely now.

“I’m happy— I really am—“ he stopped trying to speak, letting his body shake with the force of each gasping sob.

Adolin wrapped his arms around him fiercely, as if to shoulder the force of them for him. Kaladin tensed immediately but Adolin knew him long enough now to wait until he relaxed, then crumpled in his arms as he wept, for a long time until his sobs dissolved into tremors, his tears shifted to quiet sniffles. Adolin felt a warmth around him, a. . . barely there weight. He looked up and found Syl wrapping her translucent arms around both of them. He smiled at her as he cradled the back of Kaladin’s head against his chest.

“Feel better, bridgeboy?” He asked gently, thankful for the privacy of the training grounds they had chosen.

“Yes, actually.” Kaladin sounded surprised, his voice shaky from the crying. “I’m sorry for that, I didn’t. . .” he tried pulling away but Adolin held him in place, then loosened his grip if he really did want to pull away. Kaladin reluctantly stayed. Adolin smiled, brushing his fingers through Kaladin’s hair, ignoring the wet spot on his shoulder from Kaladin’s tears.

“I don’t know what came over me. I haven’t cried like that in. . . I don’t even know. . .”

“It helps sometimes. You obviously needed it,” Adolin said simply, relieved that Kaladin was feeling better.

He felt Kaladin shift, then he was wrapping his own arms around Adolin.

“I needed you, princeling.”

Chapter Text

Adolin Kholin did not like being alone. If he said this out loud to anyone else, they would surely tell him that he rarely was. That was another thing. He liked to surround himself with people, and people generally liked being around him, so it all worked out. He knew people. Every person was a little like a duel. Once you learned to read the tells, the signs, the body language, you could win anyone over. It had taken him a while to perfect his technique but Adolin was nothing if not persistent, both in the sparring grounds and in the court of the King. But it had taken him a long while to understand when he started feeling alone while simultaneously not being alone.

It was when a drink was in his hands and his friends were raucously laughing around him, gossiping about one topic or another. Jakamav with his arm around Adolin’s shoulders and a pretty girl in his own arms, by now Adolin couldn’t tell which one he saw in his memory whenever he remembered every time he felt alone. It was when a drink was in his father’s hands and he dissolved into a drunken mess, just like the image of a glorious war hero his mother had painted in Adolin’s mind dissolving and bleeding into this new image of his father. But he reminded himself his father was grieving. They all were. It was normal. He would go back to normal.

He did go back to normal, but something had decidedly changed. His father had become a better man, a man of honour —the kind of man his mother had told him stories of. But that feeling still caught him sometimes. When his father fell to his visions, talking of something Adolin couldn’t understand, witnessing something he couldn’t reach. When his people left him one by one as his father’s reputation deteriorated.

It was there when people started flying about him like skyeels in the wind, visions were painted in the air more artfully than the women in his court could, injuries in battle started meaning nothing with just a touch of stormlight. And Adolin was there. Everything changed. And Adolin was there to see it all unfolding like a duel he was and wasn’t part of, both a player and the audience, useless as both.

He knew he wasn’t ever truly alone. He had people. He always did. And he liked being around others, he lived for being surrounded by his loved ones. He had his brother, quiet, observing but smart Renarin, who always saw more than people thought. He had his blade, his faithful friend he spilled his heart out to. His trusty companion, always in his hands in his moment in need—whether that meant a swing in a battlefield or a one-sided chat in a quiet closet. A true friend. True but always silent.

And. . .

Then the feeling was there when Adolin lay next to Shallan, waiting for someone who was not his wife get up from their bed to go somewhere Adolin couldn’t reach again. He never dared follow, never dared ask her to return, never dared beg her to stay. It wasn’t his place to. Not when he sat with her, reminding her of his acceptance as he watched her splinter into pieces Adolin couldn’t gather into something real for her.

It was there when he watched Kaladin, standing straight and regal but the haunted look in his eyes betraying him, taking his friend away from him a little each day to somewhere dark and dangerous. When he caught the moment he realised he hadn’t seen the Windrunner in Almighty knew how long, but did know that it was with intent from the other’s part if he slowly started isolating himself. Stupid bridgeboy—he’d think with a smile that stung something more than just his cheeks—Kaladin had never managed to make himself invisible even as a guard, silent in the corner but always commanding attention without even meaning to and now he disappeared without Adolin noticing? Retreating into himself with the purpose of vanishing from the corners of everyone’s minds. But Adolin would find him, bring him back in front of his eyes, because he never vanished from his heart. He never dared touch, never dared ask more than he had the right to, but he was there. He always was. Sometimes, it worked.

He was here now, in a Tower that pulsed warmth like a living and breathing creature, with a sword that was still his friend and talked back to him, with people who were there for him. Adolin. Not just Highprince Kholin.

With Kaladin and Shallan who he could now touch and ask to stay, who would let him and remain with him until he needed. But he knew he couldn’t keep them forever, they were destined for something more than Adolin could give. He knew they were better than they were before, they’d found a way to help themselves before Adolin had for them the way he’d promised them he would. He was happy for them, and proud. He really was.

So, then, why was the feeling still there? Why was he still alone when he wasn’t?

Would he still feel it if his mother was. . .

A rush of a hot, simmering fire. Bubbling in his chest like a pot of boiling water, prowling in his mind like a beast of rage, hitting him when he was off guard like a stormwall. He tried not to touch it, lest he scald himself. But what he didn’t want to acknowledge was that he was already burning. The fire was a flash of lightning in his mind every time he saw his father and where everyone else saw the Bondsmith, the King of Urithiru, the Champion of Honor, Adolin only saw the Blackthorn, the man he was the son of.

The man who had put this fire in Adolin’s heart all those years ago in a city he never revisited. The lightning passed, but the fire never did. It only spread in Adolin’s body the way it had in the homes of the innocents, until it had reached his mother, who had borne his father’s fire in her scorched hands like the hearth of a home she tried to create, even as it burned her up from the inside out.

He sat in another secluded corner he’d managed to find so he could wait out until the fire snuffed out again. He’d let it get out of control again. This time the lightning had been a highstorm in his mind until the fire had emerged in the form of a torrent of words that had singed his mouth more than it had the heart of the one they were directed at. He’d thought letting out the fire would help get rid of the heat inside him but it only spread more.

He should’ve known. His body wasn’t a hearth of kindly warmth. He was the son of the Blackthorn.

Maya was silent now but he could feel her comforting presence. He never condemned her presence in his mind and he did not do so now. He never would. Even when she tried to cajole him to talk in a way he recognised all too well from he did with others. His mind had been singed out from his words, too charred to process her words, let alone form a response.

He didn’t have the preparation rooms of his duelling arenas anymore, and the quiet, uninhabited rooms had all found a use after the Tower came alive. But he’d found a place anyway, one of those closed off rooms that only activated from a fabrial, the kind Kaladin had reportedly used during the invasion. Any other time, he would have worried his aunt would know he was here through the Sibling, now he just let himself simmer in the bitterness that Navani was something he wasn’t as well. It was unlike him and it was also impossible to feel both pride at his aunt and resentment at the same time, yet here he was. It seemed the anger had finally given way to some other emotion to take hold in his heart.

Adolin grit his teeth. He didn’t know whether he wanted to rage to return so it could snuff out his misery or for his anguish to overpower him until he couldn’t feel anger again.

Shallan banged the door to the room with all the strength and urgency she could muster.

Peace, Shallan. Radiant chided and she forced herself to calm. She reached inward to Radiant but only got a sense of strength from her. Traitor.

You can do this on your own. She took a deep breath at Radiant’s words and suppressed the urge to bang the door again.

At moments like these, she wished she could have Veil emerge again, just so she could at least blame the bad manners on her. But that wasn’t right, she had decided to take responsibility.

Hey. Veil said pointedly in her mind. It had been a relief to know she wasn’t entirely gone but Shallan couldn’t muster a smile at the moment.

The door swung open so fast she felt the whoosh of air. Kaladin stood tall before her, haggard and alarmed. And shirtless.

Interesting . Veil mused languidly.

Focus . She snapped before Radiant could, harsher than intended. She knew Veil was only trying to put her at ease by trying to distract her, but it didn’t help to know that her attraction was her own now. It didn’t need not be anymore, they were courting Kaladin now.

Kaladin put his broad hands around her shoulders, snapping her out of the conversation she was having with herself.

“Shallan, talk to me. What’s wrong?” Kaladin asked, voice strained.

She shook her head slowly, not having meant to alarm him, blushing over her own thoughts, even now after everything. “Nothing’s wrong. I just can’t find Adolin.”

Kaladin looked at her a moment more, perhaps trying to discern her thoughts. Well, good luck to him there. Not even Shallan could do it with herself.

“He’s… not with me,” Kaladin said slowly, straightening as he retreated his hands from her shoulders, looking back at what Shallan presumed was Syl, although she couldn’t see her.

“Well, I can see that,” Shallan snapped, the forced smile on her face coming out more like a harsh sneer. Kaladin glanced at her but otherwise didn’t seem upset by the outburst.

He ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair with a sigh, suddenly looking more exhausted than before. She wondered if it was her wonderful effect.

“He’s a grown man, Shallan. He can go anywhere on his own if he wishes,” Kaladin said.

Shallan hesitated, not sure if it was her place to tell. But no, Kaladin was their partner now and he deserved to know, especially considering she was asking him for help. And she’d rather say something she shouldn’t than be regretful later she hadn’t.

“He had a fight with his father,” she said.

That snapped Kaladin into attention. He straightened immediately like he’d been jolted, eyes sharpening into focus, any traces of sleep seeming to evade him instantly.

“He came in our rooms to tell me but then said he needed to go. That was half an hour ago, I’ve been looking for him ever since,” Shallan explained.

“Did you check in with Renarin?” He asked, straight to business, turning and going in his room.

“Yes, I sent Pattern there. He didn’t know about the fight but said he’ll look.” She’d sent Pattern to look around the tower while she’d come to find Kaladin after that.

Shallan followed him in but stayed close to the door. Even after they’d started courting, she hadn’t been in his room like this alone before. It was nice to not have to fight Veil for control at the mere chance of something suggestive being a possibility. Even Kaladin barely stayed in his room anymore, letting them convince him to stay with them. It wasn’t that difficult to imagine why; his room was depressingly utilitarian, with a bed, a desk with papers and glyphs, a hook for his uniform coat at the door and a single small window that let the wind in. She was just glad he wasn’t sleeping in his parents’ quarters tonight. They were lovely and always welcoming but she didn’t want to have to explain this to them right now.

“His usual places? The sparring grounds, the stables?” Kaladin asked. Shallan simply shook her head at him and watched him draw his lips to a line.

He began putting on his shirt, rumpled and slightly wrinkled. She missed the view but they had more important things to do. He left the top three buttons open and instead put on his coat—not bothering with his waistcoat—with a militaristic swiftness, clearly used to dressing quickly and in the dark. Still, it was the most unkempt Shallan had ever seen him wearing his uniform. She wasn’t sure why he still wore his uniform when he’d refused to take back his title as Highmarshal but it seemed he’d found a balance, same as she had. He looked like he’d been asleep. She felt a minor prickle of guilt for waking him so abruptly, grimacing lightly. Kelek knew he needed his sleep most out of anyone but the guilt was quick to pass in the face of her worry.

He hesitated, glancing away for a moment.

“. . . the wine houses?” He asked. Shallan fidgeted, crossing her arms. She had considered it and she’d checked their regulars but had avoided going to… other ones with less than stellar reputations. She felt foolish now, she should have let Radiant do it instead of fleeing to Kaladin but Radiant wasn’t known for her affability around bars and drunkards.

“I did,” she nodded, “but not all. I was hoping you’d have seen him somewhere.”

Kaladin turned towards her fully, somehow still managing to look composed and commanding in his rumpled clothing and clear worry—Radiant was thoroughly impressed, not for the first time, and it wasn’t easy to impress Radiant.

“I don’t want to consider this a possibility, but did you see anything else odd around the Tower? I doubt we have to worry about security breaches anymore but anything is possible. . .” He trailed off. Shallan felt a twist of worry at the implications. Of course, she’d thought about it. Or rather, Radiant had, which was what made her come to find his help instead of doing it alone in the first place. They’d already made the mistake of believing the Tower invincible but it had been invaded not too long ago. She doubted the Fused would try anything so soon after their recent failure but if something happened to Adolin. . .

She didn’t know which possibility she preferred; that Adolin was off somewhere being upset or that he was in danger. She decided she preferred neither. Adolin was good at handling his feelings, and handling those of everyone around him, which was why she hadn’t really given thought to his relationship with his father, thinking he’d talk to her when he was ready. She’d had her stuff to deal with back then. She grimaced now, Adolin had had a lot to deal with regarding her too. She felt irritated that she had to come find Kaladin for help. Adolin had helped her through a lot, she’d thrown a lot at him recently and he hadn’t even blinked. She should be able to help him now on her own.

Kaladin was moving out of his room now, talking quietly, no doubt to Syl. She followed him outside. She was being unfair on him. She could accept that now when she made a mistake. He was their partner now, both of theirs and she should let him help, especially if it meant better for Adolin and Kaladin had the right to know.

Even if it meant it only proved that they were good for each other and she was. . .she was. . .

She panicked, immediately wanting to let Veil take over, but felt a distinct sense of shame at doing the same thing again. She was better, she would do better.

You said oaths. Radiant reminded her, and he confirmed them. Be strong.

That was true. Adolin still loved her, even though he was better off with Kaladin, logically and Radiant did put more credit into oaths than they were due, she didn’t understand that oaths were nothing unless you meant them. But Adolin was just like that, his heart could hold more love than possible.

You can do this,  Veil reminded her and she nodded in agreement.

“I’ll look around the Tower, maybe fly out to get a better view and Syl will do the same. Whichever one of us finds him first will send their spren to tell the other.” Kaladin said, and she nodded at him, feeling relieved despite herself that she had him for help.

“But Shallan. . .” He said, looking pained, “we can’t rule out the possibility of danger. If we can’t find him, we’ll have to ask Navani to check in with the Sibling, maybe even report to Dalinar.”

She took a shaky breath and nodded. She still didn’t think it was a likely possibility but she supposed she couldn’t fault Kaladin for considering it. He’d lived through the invasion, and not too long ago. If they reported it to Dalinar and it turned out being nothing, then Adolin wouldn’t be happy, but he’d understand. He always did when it came to them.

“I’ll search the rest of the bars, ask around. You go search the Tower,” she told him. He gave her a critical eye. “Are you sure?” He asked, sounding concerned. He knew Veil used to have problems with drinking. She would have been irritated if he didn’t sound genuinely sincere. Storming man.

She nodded at him reassuringly. She was better suited for this anyway. Even though she’d have to do this as herself instead of Veil now. Kaladin wasn’t an expert at subtlety and these places were usually hostile to direct approaches. Besides, one look at his uniform—his face, really. Kaladin had a reputation now, even if he didn’t know it—would empty any bar immediately.

They separated and she sent a silent prayer to Paliah knew who—anyone who was listening.

The room was entirely dark, not a single window but Adolin had a lamp of spherelight, casting odd shadows to the smooth strata of the walls in every colour. Shallan would have paid attention to that sort of thing. She had memorised every pattern in the strata when they’d moved to the Tower and had told him about them all. She’d tell him of the same thing twice sometimes but he never corrected her, content to listen to the words he’d heard before. He smiled despite himself, staring straight ahead. That was before her mind had overpowered her will too much for her to be herself.

Maya sent a pulse of warmth in his chest and it was so different from the heat of his rage that he sighed. Her fire never burned him, it always warmed, even before she could talk and he knew her to be really there.

He didn’t summon her as a blade now. He didn’t need to anymore to feel her presence. It was tempting, to have something in his hands to occupy him—he thought he understood Renarin now who always kept his box with him to fidget with—but he didn’t dare summon her. He didn’t want to have a weapon in his hands right now. He shouldn’t.

The thought of Renarin filled him with the same, strange mix of pride and regret. His brother had all grown up, no longer needing Adolin. He never had, really. Renarin was stronger than people thought. But Adolin had still been with him anyway, it was what he did best.

“What do I do, Maya?” He whispered. His voice sounded hollow in the utter quiet of his dark hideout. Maya immediately sent a pulse of warmth in return, eager now that he had finally said something to her. Adolin felt guilty for shutting her down earlier. She was always there when he needed someone to listen, even before she could talk.

Your anger is rightful, Adolin . Maya said in his mind, her voice stronger. It was good to hear her, he should’ve talked to her earlier.

But I don’t like the effect it has on you.

Adolin scowled, anger flaring again as if in direct contradiction to her words. He didn’t reply for a long while.

“I’d like for it to have an effect on him for once,” he muttered.

He perked up as he heard a voice outside his hideout. People rarely came and went this way but Adolin hadn’t paid attention to any voices outside before. It was that this voice was distinctly familiar, deep and masculine.

“. . . I’ll think of something. I need to find him first,” he was saying. Adolin felt a jolt when he realised who ‘him’ was.

“I don’t know! I just have to make sure he’s safe first.” Kaladin was right outside and most likely didn’t know Adolin was in here by the looks of it. He was apparently talking to Syl, though he couldn’t hear her responses. He knew Syl could simply fly through the wall and find him here if she knew. He focused on Kaladin’s words then, wondering why he would think Adolin wasn’t safe. But, of course he would, Adolin wasn’t Radiant. He would either only disappoint people or worry them, just because he chose Maya.

Go, Adolin. Tell him you’re here, s he whispered. Adolin half stood up but then sat back down again, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them, wrapping one arm around. Kaladin sounded worried, but he needn’t be. He would forget about him eventually if he stayed silent.

Storming bridgeboy. Who was he kidding? Kaladin would run himself up a wall looking for him, but then, Kaladin would do that for anyone. He clenched and unclenched his fist. He’d had a habit of summoning and unsummoning Maya in the past, and while she’d told him it didn’t hurt her anymore, he didn’t want to bring her over to the physical realm just because he couldn’t control his nerves.

“We can’t afford another invasion, Syl.” Kaladin’s voice was a little distant now. Adolin’s eyes widened. Storms! He hadn’t even thought the panic his disappearance could have caused and to Kaladin, of all people, who still kept an army dagger on him at all times despite having Syl since the Fused invasion.

“I can’t afford. . .” Kaladin’s voice trailed off and Adolin didn’t know if it was simply because he couldn’t finish his sentence or because he’d gone far enough away for him to hear the rest of it.

Don’t be an idiot, Adolin,  Maya said, but she sounded exasperated. Her words made him scramble up. He touched the glowing ruby on the wall from his side and it slid open smoothly. He blinked, feeling a little disoriented as he stepped outside.

He looked around. Kaladin was just turning a corner away from him.

“Kaladin!” He yelled. Kaladin snapped his head towards him, hand going to his side as if to summon Syl.

“Adolin!” He yelled back in surprise. He rushed over to him and grabbed him by the shoulders, looking him up and down. “Where have you been?” Kaladin asked. The worry in his voice was so evident that it almost made Adolin wince. Storms, he was an idiot.

Kaladin turned to look at the room Adolin had just emerged from. He saw his brows knit together in a frown and Adolin could tell he was going through all the possibilities in his head. Adolin didn’t have the heart to tell him that there were no attackers he was hiding from and he was just a coward who was hiding from himself.

He looked back at him, hands still on his shoulders, squeezing slightly. “You’re. . . alright?” Kaladin asked uncertainly, and Adolin wanted to kick himself for making him feel worried.

“Yes, Kal. Everything’s fine, no surprise invasions,” he exhaled softly. Kaladin scowled, giving him another appraising look before he straightened and turned to his side.

“Syl, can you please let Shallan know I found him and he’s okay?” Kaladin asked. Syl manifested from thin air in her full form, glowing blue and wearing a Bridge Four uniform. Adolin felt another wave of guilt as he thought of Shallan. He’d all but fled from her after spooking her in his emotions. If the state Kaladin was in was any indication, she’d be just as worse.

“Of course,” she cheered as she looked at him but even she sounded relieved. “You gave us quite the scare, Adolin.”

This time, Adolin grimaced.

“I’m sorry, Syl. I didn’t mean to,” he said, still looking at Kaladin who kept scowling. Syl nodded and gave a meaningful look to Kaladin that Adolin couldn’t discern before she flew off.

Kaladin turned towards him finally and Adolin waited for what he had to say.

“Come on, let’s sit down,” he said. Adolin blinked. He’d been expecting some more worrying or at least some awkward questioning.

“What?“ he asked.

“It looks like you’ve found yourself a nice spot,” Kaladin gestured to the room beside him.

Adolin did want to sit in the spot he’d found again. He did not want to go back, face the world just yet until he hadn’t found his usual energy back. He stepped into the room but hesitated.

“Are you sure? It’s pretty cramped in here,” he asked, turning to Kaladin. He knew the man’s disliking of confined spaces, for good reason. He was a Windrunner and it was almost an insult to trap a man so one with the winds. But other than that, there was his past history as a slave.

Sure enough, Kaladin’s shoulders tensed, hitching up fractionally but he stepped in the room. He put a hand on a garnet vein in the wall.

“Sibling, can you make sure no one disturbs us here?” Kaladin said.

I am the master of this Tower.

Adolin jumped at the voice. It was neither masculine nor feminine and he couldn’t make out a distinct source for it. But he could swear the Sibling almost sounded annoyed.

Very well , they said, and then went silent. The door remained open. It was a small comfort but good enough for Kaladin.

They both sat together at the far end against the wall, where Adolin had been alone a moment ago. Kaladin remained silent for a while. Then, ever the forward man, he went straight into it.

“What is bothering you?” Kaladin asked, nodding towards him.

“Nothing,” Adolin said automatically, then realised how false that sounded and tried for a smile. According to the expression on Kaladin’s face, it didn’t work as well as he’d hoped.

Adolin sighed, turning to stare at his front. “I just needed some time for myself. That’s all,” he said. Kaladin nodded slowly.

“But something is bothering you as well,” he replied. It wasn’t a question.

“If Shallan sent you here then you probably already know,” Adolin said. He hadn’t meant to say it in the detached tone he did.

“You had a fight with you father,” Kaladin said, grimacing.

Adolin waved a hand. “It’s nothing you need to worry about, bridgeboy. Tell me, how’s your work going at the clinic?”

Kaladin threw him a look. “It’s going well enough that it doesn’t need to be the topic of our discussion right now.”

Storms. He was getting better at reading him. Kaladin exhaled slowly.

“I’m sorry, Adolin. Tell me if you don’t want to talk about it,” he said, looking at him. Adolin hesitated, hand twitching to summon Maya for comfort but he held himself.

“But,” Kaladin continued at seeing his reluctance, “someone very wise once said to me, that talking about your problems helps. Even if you don’t get any solutions.”

Adolin smiled. “Using my own tricks against me, bridgeboy?”

“I learned from the best,” Kaladin returned his smile with a small one of his own. He seemed reluctant about this as well. The realisation made Adolin appreciate his effort all the more.

He turned again, breaking eye contact. “I did have a fight with my father,” he said, “but that’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

Kaladin nodded. “Do you want to talk?”

Adolin hesitated. “I probably should,” he sighed. “Storms, Kaladin but you’re right. I just. . . I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about him, but it’s storming difficult when he’s— right there.”

“It can be difficult to talk,” said Kaladin. He folded one leg and rested his arm on it, the other leg stretched out in front of him. There was an understanding in his words and it was comforting for Adolin to know that he did understand. A bitter part of his mind might have told him that Kaladin—honest, forgiving, passionate Kaladin—might have judged him for his resentful feelings. But he knew that Kaladin was just too good for even that. He wasn’t a man who never struggled to make the right choice, perhaps it was because of that which made the choice he made so worthy in the end.

“It’s not even a big deal,” Adolin said, waving a hand. “It was only a quarrel between him and I. There are more important matters to think about.”

“Such as?” Kaladin raised a brow.

“Such as the war, the Ghostbloods. Shallan and you. Storms, here I am moping over a disagreement with my father. Other people have it worse than me. You have had it worse than me.”

Kaladin frowned. “That’s not right.”

“Yes, it’s not right. There are other more important things I could be spending my time doing than think about my father—“

“No, that’s not-. . .” Kaladin shook his head. “I mean that it’s. . . you shouldn’t think like that, princeling.”

“What do you mean?” Adolin said, raising his brows.

“Just because some people struggle more doesn’t mean. . .” Kaladin trailed off, then frowned as if realising something.

“But it’s true,” Adolin said, growing frustrated. “I could be doing more. I should be doing more. Everyone is contributing so much to the war effort. Storms, more than half the war effort is built upon Radiants. I should at least—“

Kaladin cut him off by putting his hands on his shoulder. There was a worried expression on his face as he studied him. Adolin fell silent at his gaze.

“Storms, Adolin. You shouldn’t say that. You… you sound like how I do sometimes.”

Adolin stared at him in surprise.

“You,” Kaladin continued, “can’t say that you’re not doing enough. You are perhaps the only man who is doing more than enough.”

“What?” Adolin asked, genuinely dumbfounded.

“You just recently risked your life in Lasting Integrity so you could give more people a chance to become Windrunners,” Kaladin said.

“And I only ended up succeeding in making it worse—“

Kaladin held up a hand, cutting him off. “You really are sounding like me,” he said, “and you know what you call those kind of thoughts of mine.” Kaladin gave him a weak, hesitant smile.

Adolin sighed in resignation. “I say that your brain is lying to you.”

Kaladin’s expression sobered again. “I’m not shutting down your arguments you have against me—against yourself,” he said. “I’m just saying that—. . . hmm,“ he looked away with a scowl, cutting himself off.

“Uh,” Adolin began, eloquently, unsure of what to say. Kaladin held up a hand again as a sign to wait. “I’m just trying to tell you. . . storms, I need a moment to gather my thoughts,” Kaladin cursed.

Adolin watched his frustrated expression as he ran a hand through his hair, eyes trailing off to the ground as he thought of what to say. And felt. . . fondness.

Kaladin hadn’t even thought of what to say to him yet, but the effort alone was starting to make Adolin feel less miserable than before. Kaladin wasn’t naturally predisposed to this. He was blunt—if honest—straight forward and oblivious as a chull. But he cared. Kaladin might not be the most emotionally expressive person out there but when he noticed anyone he cared for feeling down, it became immediately his concern. That more than made up for any other shortcomings.

Kaladin inhaled slowly, looking back at him. “You,” he began, “are not like me.”

Adolin covered up a wince. He already knew he was nothing like Kaladin. He wasn’t the perfect son for his father, the caring leader, the fierce protector. He wasn’t the glowing Radiant everyone looked up to.

“You do not need a reminder of all the reasons you should keep going for,” Kaladin continued, completely unaware to Adolin’s line of thought and saying completely different things to what Adolin had been expecting him to say.

“You’re already doing much, much better than me in regards to that,” Kaladin said. Adolin blinked. He was doing something better than Kaladin?

“In fact, I look up to you when it comes to things like that. You make it look easy, Adolin. But I know it mustn’t be.” Kaladin looked at him, expression softening.

Adolin opened his mouth to say something to that, anything to disagree. But he came up short. What could he say to that?

“I think,” Kaladin said, “it’s only fair you have to take a break sometimes from being your obnoxiously optimistic self.” Kaladin gave him a small, crooked smile, the one that tried to tell him it was a joke. Adolin smiled back, silently telling him to continue.

“That being said, I do not agree with you when you call yourself insufficient in any way whatsoever,” Kaladin said. He pointed a finger at his chest. “You are a strong man in your own right, Adolin Kholin. I. . . have a lot of reasons to be grateful to you. I would not be able to be here with you if it weren’t for you.” He then paused, giving him a moment to add his thoughts, perhaps already expecting an argument in return.

Adolin only huffed with a humourless smile. “You don’t count. You see the best in everyone, Kal,” he said.

“That’s untrue,” Kaladin said, tilting his head. “I didn’t see the best in you when we first met.”

Adolin snorted.

“And I didn’t see the best of anything in someone like Amaram,” Kaladin insisted. Adolin stayed quiet, mind drifting to another thought at the mention of Amaram.

“How did you do it?” he asked quietly. Kaladin grunted in confusion. “How did you let go of your anger?” Adolin asked, turning to him. Kaladin regarded him with a thoughtful expression.

“It wasn’t easy,” he said. Adolin nodded. He knew full well how difficult it had been for him and Kaladin had every right to keep his hate, his anger and pain. Instead, he’d walked away a better man.

Kaladin turned away from him, resting his head back against the wall. “I didn’t want to do it,” he said. “I wanted to feel rage, to feel anger and hate.”

Adolin was shocked by how seen he felt by those words. He had said to Shallan that he didn’t want to even think about his father. Told her he didn’t want to fix things between them.

“Because if there wasn’t anger. . . there was pain.” Kaladin swallowed thickly, looking away. Adolin straightened, realising his mistake. Storms, he hadn’t meant to bring up past memories. He knew how difficult it was for Kaladin already.

“There was fear and hurt. And anger was the safer emotion,” Kaladin continued before Adolin could take back his question.

Whatever protest he had died on his lips when Kaladin turned to look back at him. There was still an echo of all of those emotions that he spoke of in his eyes, already felt and faded, but still present. Still there.

“But Adolin, I had to let myself feel them. I couldn’t turn away forever. I didn’t forgive Amaram.” He shook his head. “And I don’t think I ever will. What he did is still wrong, no matter how guilty he felt for it later. Perhaps he might have even changed to become a better man if he had made a different choice later,” Kaladin said, looking away again. “But I had to accept that I could not take away his choice from him. I didn’t forgive him. But I let it go.”

Adolin chuckled wetly, feeling a strange tightening in his throat. “What’s the difference?” he asked.

“Forgiving him would have been for him.” Kaladin gave him a rueful smile. “Letting go was for myself. I could not forgive someone who did not think he made the wrong decision.”

Adolin stared, feeling like his breath had been stolen from him by the force of Kaladin’s words. Kaladin was here, telling him he understood. All of Adolin’s shameful, ugly emotions he was afraid to show to the world and someone like Kaladin understood. And he shouldn’t have been surprised. Why shouldn’t someone like Kaladin understand? It was what made him so strong. He felt every dark, twisted thing his mind could conjure, and he got up to do the right thing anyway. And now he was telling Adolin what the right thing to do was. What the right thing had been for him. What could be for Adolin as well. It couldn’t get any simpler of a solution than this.

But. . . Adolin wasn’t Kaladin. If he was, it would not have been a problem in the first place. He chuckled, tears finally falling.

“You think I can do that?” he asked. He felt guilty to think he was comparing his father to someone like Amaram. For all he was angry at Dalinar, he. . . didn’t hate him. He never could. Perhaps it would have been easier if he could. Storms, it would make it so simple. This was something that not even Kaladin had felt. Amaram had given him no reason to not hate him.

“I believe,” Kaladin said, “I spent quite a while telling you how strong I think you are. If someone like me can do it, Adolin.” He grabbed his shoulders. “Then so can you.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Adolin asked, letting his tears fall freely, staring into Kaladin’s eyes for some sort of salvation he could find.

“You will,” he said, “if you want peace for yourself, Adolin. You will want to.”

Adolin let out a shaky breath to keep from fully sobbing. Kaladin’s words basically meant there was no easy solution. Adolin would have to be his own salvation. And Kaladin, of all people, knew about picking yourself up on your own when no one else could.

“You really do believe in me, huh bridgeboy?” he asked, his voice thick now. “Even though Dalinar was the first lighteyes who believed you.” He sniffed, but didn’t reach for a handkerchief in his pocket yet. He wanted to keep this moment for a while. Perhaps if he could suspend it in a painting like Shallan did, he would have done so already. It wasn’t anything special, anything grand or joyous. But he felt it was important anyway. For what, he didn’t know.

“Dalinar wasn’t the first lighteyes who believed in me, princeling,” Kaladin said. Adolin looked up at him in confusion to see his expression. Kaladin was smiling at him, something almost fond in his expression. It tightened the grip around his heart only further and he suppressed another sob.

“Then who?” he asked in confusion, voice hoarse.

“You, Adolin,” Kaladin said it like it was a fact so obvious he wasn’t sure how Adolin didn’t already know. “It was you.”

“Me?” he asked, incredulous. Everyone knew how much Kaladin had respected— still respected his father. Dalinar had given Kaladin a good reason to as well.

“You believed in me first,” Kaladin said quietly, almost a whisper. He squeezed his shoulder tightly. Adolin stared, mouth open slightly. He supposed there was a truth in those words. He remembered standing in front of everyone he knew just to throw himself in prison for Kaladin. But it had felt so obvious back then. He didn’t understand back then how they could have thought it wrong. How they could have disputed him on it. It was—. . .the right thing to do.

Huh. He supposed he could do that as well.

Kaladin got up, standing at his full height, looking down at him still with a smile. The light of the sapphire spheres behind him almost washed him with a silver halo around his form. Adolin looked up at him, staring, still a little dumbfounded.

There was almost something. . . mythical in the way he was. He looked like a Herald in his prime, looking down at humanity and extending his magnanimous hand towards the beaten, the broken and the forgotten. If Adolin had ever seen this image of him along with the murals of the other Heralds, he would not have batted an eye.

Everyone thought Kaladin looked magnificent in a battlefield with a spear in his hand, but there was something else in him when he was like this. This was who he truly was, whether in a battlefield or out of it. Adolin supposed this was how he turned Bridge Four into something from the myths as well.

Maybe he could do the same to Adolin.

“You coming up, princeling? Or do I need to haul you out myself?” Kaladin grinned. Adolin smiled back. He reached up and grabbed onto a calloused but firm hand.

And let himself be pulled up.

Kaladin stepped out of the dark, cramped room, instantly feeling better than before, his shoulders loosening fractionally. Any other time, he might have been frustrated because of it. But right now, he didn’t have the heart to mention how he never wanted to come back here again when he stared at the outline of the wet tear tracks on Adolin’s face, shimmering slightly under the light of the spheres in the hall.

Stormfather, even crying as he was, Adolin looked like he’d purposely shed tears as if he knew how good he looked even with them. For someone like him, it could look intentional, but Kaladin knew it wasn’t.

Even if he storming looked beautiful.

And also because he knew Adolin had needed it. Kaladin had to remind himself again that Adolin wasn’t him. He didn’t look for the openness of the sky and the winds buffeting his face whenever he started feeling down. Adolin was nothing like him, so why couldn’t he look for something opposite when it was his turn feeling sad? Kaladin had worried at first that it was his own effect. Sometimes at the darkest hour of the night when he laid awake staring at the ceiling, he worried that he was going to plague them both with his own darkness. That if they spent long enough with him, they’d become like him.

But now it felt selfish to think that Adolin couldn’t just have his own problems to deal with that had nothing to do with Kaladin.

Adolin paused outside the room, stepping into the hall, looking thoughtful.

“I will consider all of what you’ve said, Kaladin,” he said.

Kaladin wasn’t even sure if he’d said anything substantial. He’d just answered the questions Adolin had had, and shared some painful details about his own past. He wasn’t sure how listening to him speak about his life could have helped Adolin with his own. He’d fumbled with his words, and had barely managed to even let them out. Besides, he’d some things that he knew others said to him all the time, about suffering being not a comparison, about reality and perspective, truth and pain. He didn’t want to think about it yet, not with Adolin being his focus. Thankfully, Adolin didn’t seem to have caught it, or he would have surely called him out on it.

Stormfather, but it was still difficult to talk about his pain. But it felt easier knowing it was Adolin who was on the listening end. The man already knew everything, and Kaladin knew him well enough to know he’d never judge him for his failures, even when he had every right to.

Storming man.

Adolin tilted his head, frowning slightly, making no attempt to wipe the tears off his face. Kaladin had the urge to do it for him, frowning at the want to erase all signs of his sadness, but he held himself yet because Adolin looked like he had something else to say.

“But. . .” Adolin continued, hesitantly, then his expression grew firm. “I will not promise that this has convinced me to forgive my father yet. I’m sorry, Kal. I know that this was not what you wanted to hear.”

Kaladin scowled. He didn’t like the effect this disagreement had on Adolin, and he found it difficult to take sides between the two of them. But that didn’t mean he just wanted Adolin to give up and forgive his father only because of Kaladin and not because he felt it was the right thing.

If anything, Kaladin knew exactly what it felt like to have a stubborn father who you disagreed with. He grimaced, feeling sympathy with Adolin.

But before he could let Adolin know of any of this, he continued on, seemingly letting out all thoughts in his mind as if he couldn’t stop now that he’d started.

“I can’t just let go of this like that. I know I should, and I will at some point,” Adolin said, looking determined.

Good. It was a good look on him. This was how Kaladin knew him to be.

“But I can’t forgive someone who hasn’t asked for it yet,” he said.

Kaladin nodded slowly to let him know he accepted it. Adolin needed time, that wasn’t something Kaladin could fault him for.

“I promise I’ll try though.”

Adolin was looking at him now with a soft smile on his face, the fond look in his eyes a sharp contrast to the tears on his cheeks. Kaladin felt uncomfortable under that adoring gaze, as if Adolin felt some reason to be grateful to him.

So he cleared his throat and bring the subject back at hand. Storms, he wished Syl was here with him. But he’d sent her away not just for himself but because he wanted her to be with Shallan.

“I’m not asking you to just forget about it all and let go of this matter, Adolin,” Kaladin said, “It’s not something I would. . . suggest, actually.”

He suppressed a wince at the words, remembering all those days where the struggle to not care about what happened had left him feeling nothing at all. He felt a jolt of panic at the idea of Adolin—wonderful, sunny and kind Adolin—feeling something like that. Someone like him could never deserve something like that.

“You wouldn’t?” Adolin asked, sounding genuinely confused.

Kaladin firmly shook his head. “I might have, at some point. But not anymore. I know what having your father stubbornly refuse to acknowledge your point feels like, princeling.”

He did grimace, now, thinking of a lifetime spent disagreeing with Lirin until recently, where their wills still clashed sometimes, but at least now they both managed to make an effort for it not to.

Adolin chuckled softly. “I forgot all about that. Guess I was worried for nothing, bridgeboy.”

“Worried about what?” Kal asked, frowning in confusion.

“No, nothing,” Adolin shook his head. “I just suppose now you know where I hide when I’m not annoying you. Feels bad to know that I’ve let it be revealed that I’m not feeling like irritating you all the time.”

Kaladin felt the need to press him for what he’d been about to say, but decided against it. It didn’t seem important. Besides, he recognised the deflection for what it was. For all Adolin thought he wasn’t as clever with his words as Shallan, he was quite the diplomat.

Still, Kaladin thought there was the hint of something true hidden underneath his words. He wasn’t just going to let the princeling go away with it now.

“I told you, I don’t blame you for needing to rest between all the princely stuff. It would get rather tiring to deal with annoying me.”

“Never, bridgeboy. I never get tired of you.”

Kaladin hid his surprise at how serious Adolin sounded, feeling the back of his neck heating up at the intensity of his words.

Kaladin paused, reluctant to bring the topic back to the difficult part, but feeling its need to be done. “Look, princeling. I. . . really am, grateful to you, for everything you have done. I don’t blame you for having unpleasant moments every once in a while. Stormfather knows I’m an expert at being unpleasant to be around,” he said. He saw Adolin about to respond to that, but didn’t give him a chance yet.

“I’m just saying that, I. . .understand if you ever want to have some time alone for yourself in the future. But,” he paused, hesitating.

He tried again, hesitated again, then cursed himself inwardly on how difficult this was. How did Adolin say things like this all the time without a problem? It felt like pulling a knife from his chest.

No, Kaladin knew what pulling a knife from his chest felt like. And he was decidedly sure that this was more difficult.

Adolin was waiting patiently now, though. Kaladin couldn’t just leave him hanging.

“But,” he continued, steeling himself. “If, ever in the future, you feel the need to hide just because you’re not feeling yourself. . . don’t,” Kaladin said simply.

“Shallan would agree. We don’t mind the company of a prince who’s not cheery all the time,” he continued, “and I-. . . I want you around, too.” He mumbled that last part, feeling his cheeks heat up so he looked away, but he was sure Adolin caught it, if the mix of surprise, fondness and that gleam in his eyes was any indication.

Kaladin was glad he had that look on his face again, even if it came at his expense.

“What was that, Kal?” he asked teasingly.

“I want you around, Adolin,” Kaladin said more firmly, seriously this time. “I have far too much to be grateful to you for you to think I wouldn’t want you present when you’re not able to provide your usual energy.”

“I’m grateful to you,” he repeated, feeling emotions rise within him. “I’m grateful and I. . . I love you,” he whispered that last part, surprised by the surge of feelings within him.

Adolin looked equally surprised, as if not expecting to hear something so close to Kaladin’s heart. Kaladin scowled. Adolin Kholin was not a man who deserved to feel surprised at hearing something so true. He deserved someone who could say these words as easily and often as he wished.

Kaladin wasn’t able to, not that easily. But he could try.

“I really do love you, princeling. I. . . Stormfather, I’m. . .” he trailed off, feeling overwhelmed by how much he felt.

“Kaladin?” Adolin asked tentatively. He’d placed a hand on his arm, as if anchoring him and Kaladin realised he needed it. He let himself lean a little onto him, no longer ashamed at the simple act as he might have once had.

Adolin held him more firmly without any complaints at all.

“I love you,” Kaladin said, taking his face in his hands, feeling weak in the knees from how much he could feel for one man. One man who Kaladin owed everything to.

“Kal, you’re shaking,” Adolin said instead, sounding mildly concerned.

Kaladin shook his head to dispel his worries. “I just need a moment, is all,” he said this, and immediately began to sit down on the floor. Adolin went down with him, now sitting at the entrance of the room in front of him, their legs brushing against each other.

Kaladin leaned forward and took Adolin’s hand in both of his own.

“I love you, Adolin. I. . . scare myself by how much I can care, have to care, sometimes. But not when it comes to you. Never when it comes to you,” Kaladin said, shaking his head again. “It makes perfect sense, when it’s you. I love you, Adolin. And it feels as natural as flying.”

He looked into Adolin’s eyes, never breaking eye contact, suddenly needing him to understand.

Adolin’s face went from shocked to understanding to something that was a mixture of flustered and soft. “I believe you, Kal,” he said, barely above a whisper.

He placed his other hand on top of both of Kaladin’s and squeezed tightly. Kaladin didn’t let go of his hand, but raised his own lower one to reach forward and brush the fresh tears spilling from Adolin’s eyes.

He wiped his face as gently as he could with his calloused hand and Adolin let him, never taking his eyes off of Kaladin’s face.

Kaladin felt the importance of this moment, not knowing what it was for yet, but he knew he would understand at some point. Still, he let himself be absorbed in the moment, mind present and not thinking of a thousand other things at once as it always did, with no one to witness the significance of what was going on.

It felt more special to him, knowing this moment was only between Adolin and himself.

When he leaned back, Adolin still didn’t let go of his hand, looking better already.

“I believe you.”

Adolin had pulled his appearance together after Kaladin had wiped his face of the tears as best he could. Kaladin could still see the effects of the moment shared on the prince—felt them himself—but Adolin put on a good mask of normalcy, greeting everyone he knew as they passed the halls, nodding at the servants who worked.

Kaladin still got surprised by how much effort Adolin put into seeing everyone around him, surprised by realising how much effort that must require. Kaladin himself had too much always on his mind to acknowledge the world at all times. He knew Adolin must too, but he tried anyway.

“I owe Shallan an apology, don’t I?” Adolin said, grimacing slightly, as the door to their rooms appeared at the end of the hall.

“Not really. She’s just going to be glad to see you, princeling.”

True to his word, the door opened before they’d even stepped up to it. Shallan emerged as if alerted to their presence from inside somehow, looked at Adolin approaching and her face broke into a relieved grin.

“Took you two long enough!” she exclaimed as she threw her arms around Adolin, who chuckled and held her easily, wrapping his own arms around her.

They both held each other for a moment and Kaladin watched them, allowing himself that one small indulgence before acknowledging that it was his cue to leave. They both must need some time for each other, and it was best he didn’t intrude. He’d done what he could to bring Adolin’s mood back to normal, the rest Shallan could manage herself.

Just as he was thinking this, still watching them, they both parted slightly as they turned to look at him simultaneously.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Shallan asked.

Kaladin winced, contemplating between apologising and leaving or finding some quip to say to her. He was courting them both, yes. But he still didn’t have a claim on their alone time. Besides, he’d overstayed already.

He decided it was just best to leave, ignoring the pang in his chest, but before he could, Adolin grabbed his arm. And hauled him in.

Kaladin suppressed a surprised yelp as both bodies pressed next to him, then strong arms were wrapping around him and Shallan threw one arm around his back, holding his arm, nuzzling her face into him.

“That’s better,” Shallan mumbled, her voice muffled.

Adolin laughed. “It really is,” he agreed.

Kaladin let the surprise wash away, relaxing into their firm grip. Slowly, reluctantly, he raised his own arms and wrapped them around both as well.

“It really is,” he grunted.