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Chapter Text

The bells across Kharbranth chimed softly as the wind blew through the city, carrying with it a multitude of laughing windspren and the sea smell off of the harbor. Adolin smiled as he heard it, looking up from his stitching momentarily to look out the window. It was a beautiful day, and he was anxious to be done with this project so he could go to the market. They needed a few things and he wanted to find a gift for Kaladin to celebrate his birthday, even though the other man would probably scoff and act like it didn’t matter at all. He turned back to the line of stitching he was working on, smiling as he thought of his husband. 

The move to Kharbranth - well, escape was probably a more apt description - had proven to be a good one. Kaladin had easily passed the entrance exams at the Great Concourse and was almost ready to be admitted as a full surgeon thanks to his years of preparation under his father as a youth. After floundering for a little bit, Adolin had decided to explore his love of fashion and became an apprentice to a local tailor. He’d found he had both a talent and a love for the work. 

Right now, he was working on a particularly unique yellow dress for a local noblewoman. He wondered what event she was planning to wear it for. Despite being a lighteyes, Adolin had never let his true identity become known in the city, and he was not considered of a high enough dahn to be invited to important social functions. Kaladin was respected as a professional, his slave brands inconsequential in a city where slavery was outlawed, but he was still a dark eyes. He’d never revealed to anyone that he was also a Radiant, and although Syl was bored, she found ways to occupy her time. 

“Oh, the stitching on that is most exquisite,” Danah, the tailor he was now a journeyman under, told him as she passed by. “Are those chickens?” 

“Yes, I’ve seen both these varieties in the past - they’re quite striking,” he told her. 

“Well, I do believe your client will be very pleased,” she smiled at him, her tan eyes sparkling. “I think you’ll be a full master before the year is out, Toh.” 

Adolin’s chest swelled with pride at the thought. It was strange, how leaving everything he had known - including his status as a second-nahn prince and a member of Kholinar’s royal family - had settled on him so easily. He missed his brother, Sureblood, and the feel of dueling in his shardplate, but here, away from the politics and the manipulation and the expectations he was truly happy. 

They hadn’t been able to keep their names, of course. Kaladin had simply shortened his to Kal, not an unusual name for a darkeyes of Alethi descent. Adolin, however, decided to play up his Riran heritage and called himself Toh after the uncle he had never met. The adjustment had been strange but after almost two years here, he answered as readily to the new name as he had to Adolin.

“I heard it was your Kal’s birthday,” Danah said. “After you finish that panel, take the rest of the day. I’m sure you’d like to do something special for him.” 

“Truly?” He looked up again and Danah gave him that motherly expression she so often did when he asked a silly question. 

“Yes of course,” she reached out and touched his cheek and then swept away, off to check on a customer who had just come through the door. 

Adolin finished what he needed to, and proceeded to gently tie off his work, letting the skirt of the dress fall back against the form it was on. He regarded it with a critical eye and then nodded. It was good. He grinned, grabbing his leather bag off the back of his work station and bidding farewell to Danah as he left out into the beautiful Kharbranthian day. 

Another gaggle of windspren passed by, and Adolin wondered what Sylphrena was up to. He was sure she would catch up to him in the market at some point to help pick out a gift for Kaladin. For now, he settled his bag more firmly on his shoulder and made his way towards the marketplace. They needed another thing of bread, and Adolin wanted a few spices. The two men traded off cooking duties and Adolin often tried new things when he prepared meals. He wanted something fragrant to put on the table as well, to spruce the place up a bit. Their apartment was austere but every now and then Adolin would add a little something to give it a more homey feel. 

True to form, Sylphrena flickered up to him as he wandered the stalls, alighting on his shoulder in her typical small woman form. Lately she’d taken to trying new fashions that she saw while she flitted about the city, and today she was wearing something that looked Azish in design. 

“You’re out early!” She said happily. 

“I’m putting the finishing touches on that yellow special order and Danah let me take off. She remembered it was Kal’s birthday.” He reached out to touch the fabrics on a stall claiming to be something exotic from the Reshi Isles. It wasn’t, but he didn’t say anything, just continued to move along. He collected the spices he wanted, tucking them into his bag, and then he stopped. 

“What’s wrong?” Syl asked, sensing his sudden tension. 

“I thought… I thought I saw a Kholin uniform,” he whispered. 

“Here? Why would a Kholin soldier be here?” She fluttered up and began to scan the crowd. 

“I’m sure they’re still looking for us,” Adolin whispered. “I’m the son of Dalinar Kholin - heir to the high princedom, cousin to the king. I can’t be allowed to just disappear.” 

“You’ve evaded them for this long,” she pointed out and he shrugged. 

“Hopefully it was nothing.” He glanced about once more and then continued his way through the throngs of people. He still didn’t have something for Kaladin and that was the primary purpose of his visit to the market. “Just in case though, go tell him to be careful when he leaves the hospital today.” 

“Ok - be careful,” she agreed and then she was gone and he was feeling oddly exposed. Their time in Kharbranth had been peaceful. They had stopped looking over their shoulders constantly after a couple of months and let themselves settle into a life that Adolin would never have imagined he could love. And yet he did. The simple domestic existence they had eked out here was the happiest Adolin had been since his mother’s death. He and Kal had married about six months after they’d arrived and kept a small apartment near the garment district of the city. It was just them and Sylphrena, but it was theirs and he would fight to keep it. He might not have his plate any longer, but his blade went wherever he did. 

He wandered through the booths, trying to keep his trajectory random in case someone was in fact following him, still looking for something for Kaladin. He was exceptionally difficult to buy for because he was a man who wanted nothing. Anything Adolin purchased him had to be functional in some way. Where Adolin would have loved a scarf or a new vest, Kaladin was oblivious to fashion and rarely wore anything other than a white button-up shirt and a pair of pants. 

He was looking at a row of belt knives when he heard the voice behind him. 

“Prince Adolin.” 

Adolin didn’t turn around. He didn’t flinch, didn’t show any reaction at all. His name wasn’t Adolin, he wasn’t a prince. He was Toh - a low-dahn journeyman tailor. He pretended he hadn’t heard, and continued to move along the stall. His eyes darted without moving his head, looking for a path of escape. If he summoned his blade he would draw attention. But he had to get away, get to Kaladin, run once more. He shifted down the table and turned, preparing to walk to the next stall when a hand grabbed his wrist. 

“Prince Adolin.” 

His reaction was instinctual. 

One…

Two…

Three…

Four…

Five…

Six…

Seven…

Eight…

Nine…

Ten.

His massive shardblade coalesced in his hand and he pulled out of the grip of whomever had laid hands on him, swinging the blade so that the point was just out of reach of their throat. The soldier froze, eyes wide, and Adolin snarled. 

“Don’t touch me.” He backed away from the man, shardblade still held in his direction. “I am not who you are looking for.” 

Obviously they both knew that for the lie it was. Adolin’s massive, unnamed shardblade was distinctive and recognizable, as was his own hair that he had stopped dying fully blonde some time ago. Adolin stepped backwards again and again. His blade had caused a commotion and people were moving away, giving him space as he tried to evade the soldier. But he was certain the man wasn’t alone and Adolin had no way of knowing where his companions might be. He whipped around again, dismissing his blade and running. 

Adolin wasn’t running out of fear. He knew he could take a handful of guards at once with his blade. But there were too many innocent people here, people who could potentially be grievously injured or even killed in such a melee. And so he ran. He needed to find either a safe place to hide or an open space where he could confront the men without worrying about civilians. He hoped Kaladin was able to hide, although with his hidden Radiant abilities, he could escape most any situation. 

Sylphrena was suddenly back with him. “There are more soldiers up ahead!” She warned, and he took a side alley to evade them. 

“Is Kal ok?” He asked, and Syl confirmed that he was currently with a patient away from the main concourse and there didn’t seem to be any other soldiers near him. Good. As long as Kaladin was safe he could take care of the soldiers. Then they would have to run again.

He knew of a park nearby, and headed towards it. The soldier was still behind him, and he could hear shouting from the other men coming from the direction he had evaded. He extended his hand and re-summoned his blade as he moved. 

And then he stopped dead. In front of him was Dalinar. His father was here. 

“Adolin.” His father’s voice boomed without him yelling and Adolin swore. His blade had dropped into his hand and he raised it without thinking. “Dismiss the blade son.” 

“No.” 

“Adolin, dismiss your blade. We have Kaladin.” Dalinar was completely unarmed and unarmored but he didn’t appear to be at all bothered by Adolin’s sword being pointed at him.

“You lie!” Adolin told him, remembering Syl’s words from just a few moments ago. “Father, just leave us be. Please. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“If you hurt me, my men have instructions to kill Kaladin,” Dalinar told him. Adolin snarled and moved forward, blade still extended. 

“You don’t have him,” Adolin spat and Dalinar frowned at him, crossing his arms. 

“He’s seeing a patient who lives in an apartment near the docks. The patient is one of my guards, as are several of the men who are loitering about the building. By now, they should have him in hand.” 

“Liar.” Adolin said, forcing his concern at Dalinar’s words down under a wave of anger. 

For almost two years he and Kaladin had been happy here. They didn’t have to acquiesce to social expectations or the constant demands of the war against the Parshendi. More importantly, they could be together without fear of retribution. They had hoped that the Kholins had stopped looking for them. For a long while it seemed like they had. But now his father was standing in Kharbranth, looking at him like years hadn’t passed since the last time they’d since each other. Since Adolin had helped Kaladin escape prison and the two had fled the war camps to be together.

“Wait with me, then. They’ll arrive soon and I promise you they’ll have Kaladin with them.” Dalinar motioned to a bench nearby. 

“I think I’ll stay here,” Adolin told him. 

“As you wish,” Dalinar shrugged and he went to sit by himself on the bench. Adolin considered leaving. Running towards the docks, towards Kaladin . But Dalinar watched him like an axehound and he didn’t dare. And so he settled himself on the ground, shardblade across his lap, and waited.

Chapter Text

The War Camps - The Shattered Plains - Two Years Ago

The sky was beginning to lighten when Adolin awoke, wrapped in the warmth of Kaladin’s body, Kaladin’s chest to his back, one arm draped over his side and holding him tightly in place. 

Adolin wanted desperately to sink back into the drowsy comfort that enveloped him. But he also knew Kaladin needed to get up and dressed if he was going to be standing guard outside of his room when the morning shift came to relieve him. He let himself bask in the embrace, in the feeling of being loved and wanted for just a few more minutes and then he rolled over to face Kaladin. He reached a gentle hand over and pushed the strands of black hair that had fallen out of the braid he’d slept in that night back behind his ear. 

“Kal,” he whispered. “It’s almost sunrise.” 

“Already?” Kaladin grumbled and Adolin grinned. Kal was so adorable when he was sleeping, not that he would ever dare use that word to his face. “We just fell asleep.” 

Adolin leaned forward and kissed Kaladin’s forehead gently. “C’mon, sleepyhead.” 

Kaladin opened his eyes and made a noise of great protest, pulling Adolin more firmly against him in an attempt to go back to sleep. Adolin loved seeing this part of Kal, the side that let himself be comfortable and vulnerable. It was hard to let go of it when they were forced to go their separate ways but, unfortunately, they couldn’t let anyone discover their relationship and that meant rising early on the nights Kaladin slept over with him. Adolin had tried to convince him that they could trust at least Teft with the secret to make things easier, but Kaladin said he wouldn’t burden his men with it. 

“What if I don’t want to?” Kaladin mumbled and Adolin’s chest felt tight. He wanted nothing more than to stay right here in this bed, to be able to just be together without worry. Unfortunately that wasn’t the reality of their lives and it put Kaladin at great risk if they weren’t discreet and careful. Neither man really knew how it happened - how they’d come together and found peace in one another, despite being surrounded by violence and deceit - but this was the one truly good thing in Adolin’s life.

“I promise to get mad at my guard tonight and make you switch off with them if you do,” Adolin offered and Kaladin huffed a sleepy laugh. 

“You can’t do that every night ,” he replied. “It will get suspicious eventually.” 

“What about if I just tell my father you’re my permanent overnight guard now?” Adolin proposed and Kaladin really did laugh then. 

“Ok, I’m getting up.” Kaladin finally relented, and he released Adolin so he could climb from the bed. “Although I would much rather stay naked in this bed with you.” 

“Kal, if you don’t mind, please don’t give me an erection just before you put on clothes and walk to out of my room,” Adolin whispered, leaning down to kiss him before sauntering away from the bed, intentionally rolling his hips in a way that he knew would draw attention to his ass. 

He heard Kaladin stumble from the bed and then he was being forcibly turned and pressed up against the wall so Kaladin could kiss him, very thoroughly. This was a side of Kaladin no one but Adolin ever got to see. He nipped at the other man’s lower lip and moved his now-hard cock against Kaladin’s thigh. “What did I tell you about giving me an erection before you left?” He whispered into the space between their lips. 

“There’s time,” Kaladin replied, pulling Adolin’s hips forward so they were pressed tightly together, the pressure delicious and so very far from being enough. Adolin shoved Kaladin’s shoulders, guiding him backwards and to the couch. The seat hit Kaladin’s legs and he fell backwards on it, Adolin climbing smoothly onto his lap as he did. 

“Well, in that case…” he reached between them and took their erections in one hand, squeezing them together and dragging a long moan out of Kaladin. “I’d rather be inside of you,” he said, leaning forward to speak in his ear. “But there isn’t time for that. We’ll have to do that later.” He teased as he dragged his hand lazily up and down their lengths. Kaladin’s head was tipped to one side, baring the long expanse of his beautiful neck and Adolin moved from whispering into his ear to nipping at the pulse point on his throat. Kaladin’s hips bucked upward and Adolin did it again.

“Adolin.” 

Adolin could never get enough of hearing his name said in that way, in that voice, by this man. Everyone else knew that Kaladin was passionate, but they had no idea exactly how passionate he really could be. Or how needy. How he sounded when he begged Adolin to take him faster, harder… 

Imagining Kaladin beneath him, desperate for his cock and completely at his mercy drove Adolin to the edge and his climax hit him like a highstorm. He bit down on Kaladin’s shoulder as he came, and it only took a few more strokes until Kaladin was following him into the bliss of release. 

They sat there panting for a few moments, Adolin’s forehead pressed against the tender spot where his teeth had indented Kaladin’s tan skin, Kaladin’s head thrown back, his chest heaving. But the cooling mess they had made eventually urged them to move - Kaladin needed to clean up and dress and Adolin was growing chilly from the air that flowed in through the balcony doors across his sweaty skin. 

He helped Kaladin clean up and put himself in some semblance of order - fresh uniform, hair combed and pulled back, bite marks and bruises hidden beneath layers of cloth. They could do nothing about his kiss-swollen lips but no one had ever made mention of them before. He placed one last kiss on those lips and whispered “I love you” before Kaladin grabbed his spear and stepped into the hallway. 

“Captain Kaladin!” 

The call came from behind Kaladin as he was making his way from the Bridge Four barracks towards the training grounds to meet up with his men and lead them through their daily training exercises. Syl zipped around and landed on his shoulder, looking back at the men who had called out his name. “They’re King’s Guards,” she told him. “Not under your command.” 

That was odd. He didn’t have much interaction with the men King Elhokar had chosen to guard him and only him. He never put himself on duty with them to guard the king, so he was not well acquainted with any of them. He turned and smiled at them. “What can I do for you, officers?” He took them in - two lighteyes, probably of low dahn, given their rank and profession. 

“By the order of His Majesty King Elhokar, you are to be placed under arrest,” the taller of the two - still a head shorter than Kaladin himself - said. He had light amber eyes and ruddy blonde hair, indicating he probably wasn’t a full-blooded Alethi. That was becoming increasingly common these days.

“Under arrest?” Kaladin’s eyebrows pulled together. “On what grounds?” 

“His Majesty didn’t say. He instructed us to take you to the jail to await his pleasure,” it was the other one who spoke - a short, dark-haired man with a close-cropped beard and grey-green eyes.

“Kaladin!” Syl became frantic as she heard the words and felt his mounting tension. “What is going on?” 

He wished he could answer her but he truly didn’t know. What he did know was that he would not let some lighteyes lock him up for no reason. 

“I respectfully decline, until I am provided with a reason for my imprisonment,” Kaladin told them. “As a free citizen of Alethkar, living in the Kholin princedom, I have a right to know what the charges are when I am arrested. If you are unable to provide them, I am not required under the law to obey.” 

The two guardsmen looked at one another, dumfounded. Kaladin doubted they had two working halves of a brain between them and they obviously didn’t know what to do with someone who knew the law. Before they could collect their thoughts, he had turned and walked briskly - not running, but walking much faster than before - away from them, continuing on towards the training grounds. 

“Syl, go on ahead - let me know if anything is happening to my men,” he instructed. The spren gave him a nod and zipped off, looking for all intents and purposes like a mindless windspren. Kaladin continued his pace, knowing that the soldiers were following him - they couldn’t arrest him without presenting cause, but they also couldn’t risk him taking off. 

He knew Elhokar didn’t like him - didn’t trust him, despite Dalinar’s firm insistence - but dislike wasn’t a good enough reason to jail someone. He clenched his fists at his sides, attempting to exude nonchalance as he strode on. Syl came rushing back then. “There are guards at the training grounds,” she told him. “They’re not with Bridge Four though - they’re with Adolin.” 

Damnation. Suddenly everything became very clear in Kaladin’s mind and he took off at a run, not caring about the guards behind him, who began to shout for him to stop and picked up their own pace to try to prevent his escape. But Kaladin wasn’t trying to run away - he knew he was running towards even more guards, his heart in his throat. 

A contingent of king’s guards were standing along the center of the arena, blocking Adolin off from anyone else on the sands. Kaladin could see him as he entered the area, helm off, eyes wide and panicked. Most of Bridge Four was present and they came at him, all trying to talk at the same time. Finally, he raised his hands for silence, looking over at Adolin once more before turning to Teft. 

“What’s going on, lad?” Teft asked him. 

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “Elhokar sent guards to have me arrested but failed to provide them with what charges I was being taken in on so I politely refused. What is happening here?” 

“They say they are taking Adolin into ‘protective custody’, per the King’s orders,” Sigzil said. “He’s not to interact with anyone.” 

“Even us? We’re his guards.” 

“Even us,” Sigzil confirmed. 

Stormfather. If he hadn’t known it before, he did now. Elhokar knew . How he knew, and how much he knew, Kaladin wasn’t sure but he was absolutely certain the king knew about his relationship with Adolin. 

“Teft, walk with me, I need to talk to you. Sig, you’re in charge for now.” Sigzil saluted him and jogged off towards the other men, while Teft fell into step beside Kaladin. He moved purposefully away from Adolin and his guards. Finally, he spoke. 

“I think I know what this is about,” he confessed, turning to Teft. “I wasn’t sure until now. I haven’t been quite honest with you all…” 

“About your relationship with the prince?” Teft interrupted, and Kaladin’s eyebrows immediately pulled together in confusion. He opened his mouth to protest but Teft cut him off with a gesture. “Don’t worry, son, I don’t know that any of the others have put it together. But I’ve been around a while, seen a lot of people trying to hide liaisons that they shouldn’t be having - I know it when I see it.” 

Of course Teft had figured it out. Kaladin laughed, a sharp, humorless thing. “Well, in that case. I think Elhokar has learned of it, somehow. It isn’t illegal to be with another man, but it’s frowned upon. And it is illegal for someone of my uncertain social standing to be with an individual of his dahn. Even if he was the instigator for the whole thing, even if he forced me, the majority of the blame falls on me.” 

“Kelek’s breath, Kaladin. I wish I had been wrong,” the older man said. 

“I knew.” Kaladin said. “From the start, I knew it was a risk. I made my choice in that, Teft. I just don’t know how the king could have found out.” 

“You don’t think it was a member of Bridge Four, do you?” 

Kaladin shrugged. “I don’t want to think it was. But if you figured it out… who’s to say someone else didn’t too? The men, they know me best. They’re the most likely to notice something. Regardless, I think Elhokar knows. Right now he’s messed up by not giving his soldiers an official warrant, but he’ll change that soon enough I’m sure.” 

“So what do you need me to do?” Teft looked over at all the guards and a deep furrow creased his brow in concern. 

“If - when - I am taken into custody, you’re in charge,” Kaladin told him. “Don’t do anything stupid. I mean it - no attempts to break me out, no appeals to the king…” Teft started to argue but Kaladin cut him off. “Adolin will have the king’s ear. I have to trust he can get us out of this if it comes to that. And if not, well, I’ll send Syl along with a message if I change my mind.” 

“I don’t like this,” Teft murmured and Kaladin just grunted in agreement. 

“For now, we act like nothing is going on,” he finally said. “Let’s line up for drills. I’m sure one of the men who tried to arrest me has already sent word back to Elhokar for an official warrant with the charges, but it will take time to get it since he will need an Ardent to write it and to read it out when they come for me again.” 

Adolin stood still, hands clasped behind his back, watching his cousin pace around the room like a caged whitespine. His father sat behind him, looking tired. Adolin was seething. He had watched (forced to watch, he suspected) as Kaladin was arrested - charged officially with corruption of a lighteyes, fornication above one’s station, and attempted treason. That last one was a bit of a stretch, but Elhokar had thrown whatever he could think of at Kal to get him into custody and away from Adolin. 

“Where is Kaladin?” Adolin demanded finally. He heard his father sigh behind him and Elhokar whipped around, the expression on his face murderous. He pointed a finger at Adolin and stepped closer, until the tip of the finger was pressed against his chest. 

“You’re standing before me accused of fornicating with a low-nahn darkeyed man under your house’s command and you dare ask where he is?” Elhokar was flushed with anger and he looked at Adolin with fierce disgust. Adolin met his gaze levelly, blue eyes fixed on green. Dalinar shifted, the sound of the chair he was in protesting the movement seeming out of place in the room. Adolin didn’t back down from Elhokar’s glare, didn’t flinch at his tone or his gestures. 

“Son,” his father said, tone flat. “I really don’t think this is the time…”

“So when is the time?” Adolin snapped, looking over his shoulder and then back at the king. “After you’ve executed him?”

“He’s not going to be executed -” Dalinar started but Elhokar interrupted. 

“You will find out when and if I decide to tell you, and you’ll accept that not as my cousin but as my subject .” Elhokar spat and Adolin did flinch then - not from fear, but out of unconscious reaction to that last word. He’d never really considered his relationship with Elhokar - he was his king, yes, but before he had ever been that he was his cousin. Adolin found himself hard-pressed to think of him in terms of his title even now, years after his coronation. “As for you - you won’t be arrested or charged with any crime. Our house can’t handle the scandal. But you will be censured for acts unbecoming a prince of Alethkar, without further explanation.” 

“No.” Adolin was surprised when the word slipped out of his mouth. “Whatever punishment is to be given to Kaladin I wish to be given as well.” 

“Oh, for the Almighty’s sake, Adolin - be reasonable!” Dalinar stood up now, coming to face him as well. “You’re my heir - you’re third in line to the throne! You can’t just throw away everything for a guardsman!” 

“I will,” Adolin narrowed his eyes at the other two men. “I am ready and willing to renounce everything, if I have to.” 

“The man must have the biggest cock on Roshar to make our spoiled prince Adolin want to give it all away,” Elhokar sneered. 

“Says the man with the smallest,” Adolin countered and Elhokar’s expression turned to rage. He stepped forward, as if to challenge Adolin to hit him. Dalinar maneuvered himself between them then, forcing them each to shuffle back. 

“Stormfather save me from stupid young men and their pissing contests,” he muttered, and then he turned to his nephew. “Elhokar, he didn’t mean anything by it. Let it go. We don’t have time for this.” 

Adolin growled and turned away from them both, crossing his arms. He needed to get out of this room and get to Kaladin. As attractive as the thought of continuing to insult his cousin was, it wouldn’t get him anywhere except imprisoned as well.

“You will be accompanied from now on by my own guards,” Elhokar said. “You are not to interact with Bridge Four.”

“This is ridiculous.” Adolin huffed, looking out the window instead of back to the king and his father. “I demand the punishment being given to Kaladin.”

“No, you don’t get to demand anything, Adolin,” Dalinar snapped at him. “You’ll do as Elhokar says, for the good of our house, and be thankful for it.”

Adolin didn’t reply. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t change his position. He just stood, arms crossed, looking out across the war camp. Inside his heart was shattered, his worry for Kaladin a weight in his stomach that made him feel as if he’d swallowed rocks. He was going to find him, learn what punishment he’d been given. Get him out of wherever he was. And then…

Then they would leave. 

The thought crystallized like a passionspren in his mind. They would leave the war camps, leave Alethkar. He just had to figure out how .

“I would like to go to my rooms now, by his majesty’s leave,” Adolin said, turning to look at his cousin again.

“Fine. And you’ll stay there.” Elhokar commanded. Adolin gave him an exaggerated bow and then walked stiffly through the door. Two of Elhokar’s guards peeled off from the wall and fell into step behind him. 

“I’m headed to my rooms,” he informed them. “But first I need to stop by my brother’s quarters. They’re right next to mine, I’m sure you don’t mind?”

They looked at one another and shrugged, seeing no harm in him stopping to talk to Renarin. Fools. 

Adolin just hoped to the Almighty that his brother was there. 

Kaladin sat in his cell, his elbows on his knees and head in his hands. He hadn’t been surprised when the guards had returned with the official warrant, read out by an Ardent in front of all of his men. 

Corruption of a lighteyes, fornication above one’s station, and attempted treason

He wanted to laugh at them, to explain just how inaccurate the first charge was, to ask exactly how they’d determined he was attempting any sort of treason while he had the prince’s dick in his mouth. But no one deserved to know the details of what went on between him and Adolin except the two of them. Their relationship was theirs and it was too pure, too important to be paraded about in front of others in some sort of mockery of justice. It wasn’t just sex. It was shared burdens and soft smiles and a feeling of being home when they were together. 

It was love. 

Kaladin hadn’t realized it at first. He’d never experienced romantic love, never thought he would. His life was a series of tragedies and he didn’t think the universe would see fit to ever change that. But one night, as they lay together in Adolin’s ridiculously soft bed, Kaladin realized that he had fallen hard for the prince. He’d almost choked upon the revelation, and Adolin had laughed and told him he loved him too when he’d admitted it. 

How someone as perfect as Adolin had come to love him was a mystery but Syl had convinced him not to question it. She warned him when he was starting to self-sabotage and he was honest and upfront with Adolin about his own internal turmoil in a way he wasn’t with anyone else alive. And yet, Adolin still loved him. 

And for that, Kaladin was locked in a cell and, according to Syl, Adolin was confined to his quarters. She’d been spying on the conversation between the King, Dalinar, and Adolin and reported back to him once Adolin had asked to go to his rooms. 

“What do I do, Syl?” He asked his spren, who was sitting beside him on the stone bench, legs dangling over he edge. 

“I don’t know,” she whispered, tone solemn. 

“Can you pick locks?” He looked over at her and she shook her head. 

“I’m not a Cryptic,” she sounded disgusted at the request and Kaladin’s expression turned curious. “You might call them liespren,” she clarified. “They’re terrible, horrible spren. But they can pick locks.”

Kaladin sighed. “Can you keep an eye on Adolin and Bridge Four for me?”

“That I can do,” she agreed. 

“If you need to reveal yourself to Adolin… I give you permission,” he told her as she prepared to leave. 

“Are you sure?” She cocked her head to the side and he nodded. 

“To be honest, I should already have told him about you, about the bond,” he admitted and Syl smiled. 

“I promise I won’t do it unless I absolutely have to,” she assured him, and then she was gone and Kaladin was alone with nothing but an aching heart and his own thoughts for company.

Chapter Text

Kharbranth and the Shattered Plains - Present Day

The walk from the concourse to where Kaladin’s patient was laid up was a long one, but he didn’t mind the trek. Too often these days he felt as if he was letting his physical abilities slip as he focused on his studies. He trained with Adolin regularly but he still felt like he should do more, so the exercise was welcome.

Syl had zipped away from him saying something about meeting Adolin, and he smiled, knowing that the two of them were up to something. He was happy that they got along so well, even if it often resulted in some scheme that he had to go along with. They were the two most important beings in his life and he could be content as long as they were happy and safe.

To his surprise, Syl returned to him a short time later. 

“Adolin thinks he saw Kholin soldiers,” she said, fluttering around him anxiously. “At the market.”

“Is he sure?” 

“No. But he wanted me to warn you so you can be careful,” she seemed agitated, moving constantly, unable to keep still. Kaladin looked about himself, taking in the crowd that was a normal part of traveling through the city. It would be fairly simple for a soldier or two to hide among that throng of humanity. 

“Ok. Tell him I’ll be careful. Let him know where I’m headed. Keep an eye on him,” he told her. She nodded and then she was gone once again, back towards Adolin. 

He looked around one more time, his long-unused soldier’s instinct kicking in as he assessed the people around him. Nothing seemed amiss so he continued towards the docks and the patient he’d been sent to attend to.

Kaladin knew something was off the moment he walked into the small apartment where his purported patient was said to be. It was too quiet and he wished he hadn’t sent Syl back to Adolin. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and entered the room. There was indeed someone lying in the bed, and Kaladin went to them. He’d been told it was a man who worked on the docks with a bad infection from a cut on his leg. 

As he approached the man he didn’t smell the familiar sickly sweet scent of infection, but he did smell sweat and dirt. An infection bad enough to prevent someone from coming to the clinic should be odiferous, but he couldn’t make assumptions without looking. 

“My name is Kal, I’m a surgeon here to look at your leg,” Kaladin introduced himself as he knelt beside the cot. The man looked at him and his face wasn’t sheened with sweat, his eyes not clouded with fever as they should have been. Kaladin frowned but the man obediently began to move the blanket up in order to reveal his left leg. Kaladin set his bag down and moved toward the limb, immediately noticing it didn’t show any signs of a cut, let alone infection. He turned to look back at the man, when his arm whipped out and grabbed Kaladin’s own. 

“Kaladin Stormblessed,” the man said, sitting up as Kaladin took a small breath of stormlight and wrenched his arm free of the grasp. “You are hereby under arrest for your escape from the jail in the Kholin war camp of the Shattered Plains, kidnapping of Prince Adolin Kholin, and subsequent defection to Kharbranth.” 

“I am not that man,” Kaladin said, and the “patient” gave a sharp, humorless laugh.

“Sure, and I’m the Stormfather. You’re rather identifiable, wouldn’t you say, Kal ?” He gestured to Kaladin’s forehead, where long-healed slave brands were just visible beneath the bangs he wore in an attempt to hide them. They meant nothing in this city where slavery was outlawed, but he still wasn’t fond of walking around with them showing. 

“Alethkar has no authority here,” he countered, eyes darting for an escape route. There was a window nearby, if he could get to it, he might be able to lash himself out. The man noticed his glance and shook his head. 

“I wouldn’t try anything if I were you,” he said. “Prince Adolin is already in custody. The Blackthorn isn’t above using him as leverage to make sure you come with us.” 

Adolin. 

The name stopped his thoughts of escape in their tracks. He would never intentionally endanger Adolin, and would do anything possible to protect him. He swallowed and then Syl was there, telling him that Adolin was indeed in the park near their home with Dalinar. Would he really hurt his own son to get to him? He couldn’t take that chance. It was obvious from the fact that this was happening - two years after the pair of them had fled from the war camps - that capturing them was of great importance. Dalinar might love his son but he had been infuriated by their relationship and by their flight from the Shattered Plains. If he was more Blackthorn than Dalinar he certainly would harm Adolin to get to Kaladin. 

The soldier - Kaladin assumed that’s what he was - had both of his arms now and was chaining them together. He swallowed hard at the bile that rose in his throat at the feeling. He’d told himself he’d never be chained again, never allow himself to be. But this was for Adolin - his husband, the man who had willingly thrown away his nobility just to be with him. If he could do that, Kaladin could endure this. Syl was anxious, moving rapidly around him as he was led down the stairs and out into the street. Two other men joined them as they walked, and Kaladin hated himself for being drawn into this trap. He should’ve been more careful, left as soon as he hadn’t smelled infection or seen fever on the man. 

He’d failed. Failed to protect himself, but more importantly, failed to protect Adolin. He tried not to look at the people who stared out their windows and doorways at him, to pretend this wouldn’t be the talk of the entire city by the end of the day. 

When Adolin saw Kaladin being brought into the park with shackles, his heart dropped to his stomach. “Father, why is he chained?” He shouted, dismissing his blade as he got to his feet and angrily moved towards Dalinar on the bench. “He’s not a slave, he’s a free man, unchain him.” 

“He’s a criminal, Adolin - he escaped from prison and fled custody.” Dalinar told him, voice flat and face expressionless. “Criminals belong in chains.” 

“No, no - please .” He went to his father’s side, gripping his forearm and looking at him, expression pleading. “He can’t be chained - he was a slave. You don’t understand, it will destroy him - please.” 

“And what do you propose instead?” Dalinar finally looked at him and Adolin shook his head. 

“Just don’t, please. No chains, no rope - I swear he’ll cooperate as long as you let him be with me,” he told his father, and Dalinar considered him for a long moment before he nodded. 

“Fine. But keep him in line. If he steps one toe over it, he’s dead - do you understand?” Dalinar pointed directly at him, and he swallowed and nodded. The soldiers marched Kaladin over to the two of them and Dalinar instructed them to undo the shackles. As soon as they were off, Adolin pulled his husband against his chest and held him tightly. Dalinar looked as if he wanted to say something but stopped himself. 

“Kal, don’t fight with them, ok? I know you want to - I know you. But the only reason you’re not being bound is because I promised my father that you’d cooperate,” he whispered as they embraced. He felt Kaladin tense and then he sighed and nodded. Adolin knew he wouldn’t like it but he’d do it because he asked. 

“Now, we will be taking you back to the Shattered Plains. It’s a long trip. We’re going to allow you to go to your residence and pack your essentials for travel. Do not attempt to escape, do not do anything stupid. Get your bags and be cooperative,” Dalinar told them. “If you don’t, I won’t hesitate to use violence. With both of you .” That last was said for Adolin’s sake. He had no doubt the threat was real.

They drew glances as they were ushered to their apartment. He and Kal were recognizable and they were well-known in this part of the city. No doubt their being escorted through the streets with a contingent of obviously Alethi guards would cause talk. Adolin wished he could leave a note for Danah, so she knew he hadn’t abandoned her and his work, but that was impossible without being able to write. Kaladin knew glyphs - it was important for his work as a surgeon - but that wouldn’t be enough to express what he wanted to say.

They lived on the third floor of a building not far from Danah’s shop. It had windows facing the port that were often left open so the wind could flutter through their home. Guards stood outside the doors but Dalinar entered the residence with them, dashing any home Adolin had of getting Kal to lash them out the windows and running. 

“Get your things and be quick about it,” Dalinar ordered, crossing his arms over his chest and standing in front of the door. 

“We should have gone further,” Kaladin lamented quietly as they entered their bedroom. “Kharbranth is too close to the plains.” 

“Kal, be reasonable. We went all the way north before we came here. We thought they’d given up. There was no reason for us not to think this was a safe place,” Adolin told him. 

After their initial escape, they had gone north to Kaladin’s hometown of Hearthstone. They’d traveled quickly after Kaladin revealed his radiant abilities to Adolin, and they’d managed a few weeks of peace there before the Kholin soldiers caught up with them. They had then gone north into Herdaz, then west into Jah Keved. Eventually it seemed that they’d escaped - no further pursuit was coming for them, and they had decided to go from their hiding place in Vedenar to Kharbranth so Kaladin could study.

Adolin felt sick about being forced to leave. He was truly happy here, and Kaladin had relaxed and opened up in a way he’d never expected to see. They had found satisfaction in the humble life they’d built together. And now here was Dalinar demanding he return to Alethkar, to the constant political scheming and endless suffering that he’d willingly left in the past for the man he loved.

Kaladin was packing medical supplies, because of course he was. Adolin would see to their clothing as soon as he fetched the most important thing in the entire world to him - their copy of the marriage certificate they’d been given when they’d spoken their vows to each other. He rolled it up and tied it shut, tucking it gently into his bag. 

Once they had packed some sturdy clothing, some medicinal supplies, and their travel gear - bed rolls, blankets, and the like - they returned to Dalinar. He simply took in the bags they were holding, nodded once, and turned to leave. Adolin looked around sadly one final time before he followed Kaladin and his father out the door.

Dalinar set an unrelenting pace on the trip back to the Shattered Plains. Unlike their previous journeys, Kaladin couldn’t use his stormlight abilities to transport them and so they were forced to ride. Kaladin hated riding. He didn’t trust horses and he didn’t like knowing that the creature he was sitting atop could make its own decisions. Adolin had offered to ride with him but Kaladin politely declined. He already suffered enough indignity being watched by soldiers while he took care of his bodily needs, he didn’t need them to think him completely incompetent riding in front of Adolin so he didn’t fall off. 

Despite Adolin’s admonitions, he looked constantly for a path of escape. 

“Kal,” Adolin whispered to him on an almost nightly basis, when they were given dinner and allowed to sit together and talk. “Stop. The second we try anything my father will kill one of us. Since you can heal yourself, it’s most likely to be me.” 

Kaladin huffed. He knew Adolin was right. He might have his abilities - not fully understood - and Adolin always had his shardblade, but the king had loaned every set of plate and blade he had for this mission. They couldn’t take all of them, especially as out-of-practice as they were. He grunted and took an angry bite of bread. 

“We will get through this,” Adolin assured him, and Kaladin wished he could feel as confident. But as soon as those shackles had clamped around his wrists, he’d felt the bubbling presence of the wretch inside of him. So long buried in the happy, domestic existence he’d been living, the wretch was eager to surface and drag him into darkness. “Kal, look at me.” He lifted his eyes to look into his husband’s. “I promise you, we will go home again.”

“Adolin is right,” Syl said. She was settled on the edge of the bowl of stew he held in his hands. “You’ve come through worse, Kaladin. You’ll get through this too - you aren’t alone.” 

“I love you,” Adolin said, reaching over to touch his cheek lightly. “Nothing can change that. I’ll get us home.”

Kaladin grunted and leaned slightly into the touch. They were lucky that they were allowed to talk, to touch and to sleep side-by-side. They weren’t allowed to kiss or hold one another at night, but this soft touch was tolerated for a few seconds before their current guard cleared his throat. Adolin pulled back and Kaladin ached at the loss of connection. 

After weeks of travel, Adolin and Kaladin found themselves side-by-side in the king’s office. Adolin had been furious when he saw that they intended to tie Kaladin’s wrists to the chair’s arms after he’d spent the entire trip unbound, and insisted he be tied as well. When Elhokar and Dalinar saw, they were frustrated but they didn’t demand he be untied. 

“Two years. We’ve been searching for you for two years . Do you know how many resources had to be diverted from the war to find you?” Elhokar finally said, after looking down at them both for a long moment in silence. 

“You could have just let us go,” Adolin snarled. “You didn’t have to continue looking - it was pretty apparent we didn’t want to be found.” 

“There was no way I wasn’t going to find you,” Dalinar told him, tone cold. “Do you know how it looked, for my heir to take off like you did?” Adolin didn’t answer, he simply looked at his father, expression angry. “Not only did you disappear, but you did it with a darkeyed guardsman! It undermined us, made us look even more weak than we already did.” 

Kaladin was looking down at his lap, silent. Adolin wanted to hold his hand, to reassure him that he wouldn’t let anything happen. But even if they weren’t tied up they wouldn’t be allowed to do such things. Not in front of Elhokar. Dalinar had allowed them to be together in small ways while they traveled, but there was no way the king would permit such things. 

“And then we find you and you’re living as a low-dahn tailor married to a darkeyed man!” Elhokar sounded furious and Adolin looked at him with fury of his own. 

“I was happy ,” he snapped. “ We were happy.” 

“You’re third in line for the throne of Alethkar, Adolin! You can’t just run away and hide from your responsibilities,” Dalinar argued. They’d avoided speaking about the events that had preceded their flight from the Shattered Plains, and their marriage, while traveling. “Obviously we will have to have the marriage dissolved. That can’t stand…” 

“You’ll do no such thing,” Adolin spat at his father. “It was witnessed and affirmed by Ardents in Kharbranth. It’s legal and binding. I brought the certificate with us.” Elhokar looked sadly over at Dalinar. 

“He’s lost his mind,” Elhokar said. 

“I said you’ll do no such thing!” Adolin raised his voice, and he saw Kaladin’s jaw tighten as he clenched it. He knew Kal wanted to say something but he wouldn’t let himself slip. Adolin had the freedom to speak - Kaladin did not.

“Adolin, obviously you can’t remain married to Kaladin. You’ll be a Highprince, someday. You need a proper spouse.” 

“I have a proper spouse! And I will not be highprince. Name Renarin your heir - I don’t want it.” 

Dalinar ran a hand over his face, obviously exasperated. Elhokar let out a deep, put-upon sigh. Adolin glared at them both. Apparently figuring that Adolin was at the moment a lost cause, Dalinar turned to Kaladin. 

“I expected better of you, Kaladin,” he said. Kaladin looked up then, meeting Dalinar’s eyes. “Sleeping with my son was one thing but then convincing him to run away and marry you?” Kaladin’s eyes were angry, but he didn’t reply. “Before I may have been able to convince Elhokar just to imprison you, but this… you’ll have to face execution.” 

“No!” Adolin pulled against his restraints. His voice broke as he repeated the word, tears now beginning to form in his eyes. “No.” 

“Cousin, please. You’re making a fool of yourself.” Elhokar crossed his arms as he looked down at him, elegant face disgusted. 

“Duel me.” He choked out, looking at the king. “I challenge you to a duel, King Elhokar. If you win, you can execute Kaladin and I both. If I win, we return to Kharbranth and live out our lives the way we want.”

“Absolutely not,” Dalinar responded. “Executing you is not an option.” 

“I won’t live without him,” Adolin looked at his father. “If you execute him and don’t kill me, I’ll do it myself.” 

“Oh for storms sake, Adolin. This is ridiculous.” Dalinar’s face was growing red and angry. Adolin breathed deeply and reminded himself that he was no longer a child and he no longer feared his father’s wrath. He was his own man. “Guards!” Dalinar’s shout alerted two guards who were standing outside the doors, and they responded immediately to the call. “Please take Kaladin to a cell for the time being.” 

“No!” Adolin shouted again. He feared being separated from his husband, worried that something would happen to him while he was out of sight. He continued to scream as the men untied Kaladin and led him out of the room. 

“Calm down, Adolin. Stormfather, you are acting like a child,” Elhokar said to him. Adolin watched the door close behind Kaladin with a sense of deep loss.

“I hate you. Damnation take you, Elhokar Kholin - if you kill him, I will do the same to you before I take myself out,” he growled, turning his attention back to the men in front of him, and Dalinar looked like he wanted to punch him. Adolin hadn’t said who he meant the threat for, and he realized it didn’t matter. He’d kill them both if they touched Kaladin.

“Dalinar, fetch a surgeon. I think Adolin needs some rest. Thankfully he’s already restrained so he shouldn’t fight us too much.” Elhokar looked down at him and Adolin spat on him. “Oh, by Ash’s eyes Adolin, enough !” The king swung his hand out then, smacking Adolin smartly across the face. “If you were anyone else I would see you punished for that. Be grateful you are my cousin and that earns you some grace, but know that you’ve almost run out.”

Dalinar was soon back with Elhokar’s personal surgeon and the last thing he remembered was giving one last look of betrayal to his father before he drifted into a drugged sleep. 

When he awoke, he was in his own bed in the war camp. He had a headache from the sedation and his mouth felt dry. He blinked rapidly, and tried to sit up, but the motion made the room spin about him. He lay back down and groaned, pulling a pillow over his face. He had to pull it together so he could find out where Kaladin was. This felt far too familiar, so much like the night they had escaped the war camps two years ago after their relationship came to Elhokar’s attention. 

Dalinar came to see him a few hours after he had awakened, bringing with him a tray of food and jugs of both wine and water. Adolin accepted only water, and refused to leave his bed. His father gave up trying to get him to come sit at the table and took a seat there himself. 

“Son, what is going on with you?” Dalinar asked him. He looked older, more weary. Adolin took a drink of the water before he answered. 

“What’s going on with me? Father, your soldiers snatched me out of what I now consider to be my home and my life, dragged me back here to a place I no longer want to be and a life I do not want, and then you imprisoned my husband under threat of death. I’m not sure what is confusing to you about my current state,” he said, tone flat. 

“You never expressed any desire to abdicate your position as my heir in the past,” Dalinar noted and Adolin shrugged. 

“That was before Elhokar tried to arrest Kaladin. I don’t think you understand that I will give up everything for him, even though I’ve already done exactly that,” Adolin met his father’s eyes. “I love him and I was happy with him in Kharbranth. Just let us go back, please.” 

“Kaladin is a criminal…” Dalinar started but Adolin cut him off. 

“Why? You act like I had no say in the decisions we made. To have sex, to run away, to get married - I chose all of those things. Kaladin didn’t force me to do any of it. I wanted it.” Adolin pointed at himself, emphasizing the words “ I wanted it .” 

“I don’t know, Adolin - that’s just how things are.” Dalinar’s voice softened just a bit. For the first time since they were reunited, his father’s facade of anger and indifference slipped a little and Adolin thought maybe he could get through to him. 

“That’s not good enough.” 

“Son, please… see sense. There’s no way Elhokar isn’t going to order Kaladin executed. He is probably going to punish you in some way too. The best thing you can do right now is just cooperate with him.” 

So much for the fleeting thought of peaceful resolution. Anger flared in Adolin and he threw back the covers, lunging out of the bed at his father with a feral sound. Dalinar tipped backward in his chair and crashed to the floor as Adolin came at him swinging. Adolin landed on top of him, landing a punch to his face before Dalinar gathered his wits and fought back. Adolin was screaming almost incoherently about what he would do if Kaladin was put to death, desperately trying to land another blow on his father. The commotion got the attention of the guards outside the door, who rushed in to pull Adolin off of the highprince. 

Adolin was panting, face flushed with fury, and Dalinar’s nose was bleeding. The guards held Adolin back and Dalinar looked into his eyes, expression dangerous. Any previous sign of affection was gone. “If you continue to behave like this you’ll be in a cell too,” he warned. Adolin snarled at him and Dalinar turned and left the room. 

When the adrenaline faded and the soldiers were gone, Adolin slumped to the floor and sobbed. He pulled the blanket off of his bed and covered himself in it. He had spent the past two months as they’d traveled wondering how his father had found them, wishing for a way to escape. He’d also considered murdering his father and the soldiers more than once so that they could run, again. Farther this time. Maybe Elhokar would give up if Dalinar was dead. He hadn’t done it, of course, but he almost regretted his inaction now. 

Actually, he did regret it.

Storms, was he really regretting not killing his own father? 

Would Dalinar hesitate before killing him if it was in any way beneficial to his own ambitions? 

Adolin had never thought he or Renarin had inherited the cold, murderous side of Dalinar that had allowed him to conquer and pillage so ruthlessly as the Blackthorn. But he found himself feeling more and more like the most effective way out of this mess was by spilling blood and he realized with a start that he wanted that. 

He wanted his father and cousin to bleed, to hurt, the way he was hurting right now. He hated them both, wanted to watch the light bleed from their eyes, to dispose of the only men who stood against his happiness with Kaladin. 

The realization made him sick to his stomach and he curled in more tightly on himself. Perhaps he really was the son of the Blackthorn.

Perhaps he could use that to save them both.

Chapter Text

Two Years Ago - The Shattered Plains

“I would like to go to my rooms now, by his majesty’s leave,” Adolin said, turning to look at his cousin again.

“Fine. And you’ll stay there.” Elhokar commanded. Adolin gave him an exaggerated bow and then walked stiffly through the door. Two of Elhokar’s guards peeled off from the wall and fell into step behind him. 

“I’m headed to my rooms,” he informed them. “But first I need to stop by my brother’s quarters. They’re right next to mine, I’m sure you don’t mind?”

They looked at one another and shrugged, seeing no harm in him stopping to talk to Renarin. Fools. 

Renarin looked up from the wooden box he was fiddling with as Adolin entered his quarters. 

“Adolin? What’s going on?” Renarin asked, immediately reading Adolin’s mood in that way only he was able to do. Adolin looked over his shoulder to ensure the door was closed behind him, and then came close. 

“Ren, I’m about to tell you something that I need you to just accept,” Adolin whispered. “Captain Kaladin and I are together - in a relationship. Elhokar found out about it and had Kaladin arrested and he put me under the watch of his own guards. He wants me in my rooms and has restricted my access to anyone outside of his immediate authority.” 

“What do you need from me?” Renarin set his puzzle block aside and looked at him, face serious. Adolin was immensely grateful for his brother at that moment. He didn’t waste time asking irrelevant questions or making observations. He just got right to the meat of the matter. 

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” Adolin asked, and he set about laying out his plan. 

“Guards! Guards, help!” A few minutes later, Adolin began yelling from inside Renarin’s room, dashing to the door and yanking it open frantically. “It’s Renarin - he’s having one of his fits! We need a healer!” 

One of the guards looked into the room, seeing Renarin’s outstretched arm and hand flailing from the other side of the sofa. “Go,” he said to his companion, who nodded and took off down the hall to fetch a healer. 

“I need help to get him into a safe position,” Adolin said. The other guard stepped into the room, moving to go to the seizing prince. As he passed by him, Adolin grabbed a nearby portrait of their mother that had been framed in a heavy silver and whacked it onto the back of his head, knocking him down, unconscious.  

“Renarin, let’s go!” He called. Renarin stopped his fake attack, getting to his feet and locking the door before yanking it closed behind himself and his brother. 

“The servants’ passages,” Renarin suggested. It was a good idea, better than fighting their way out of the building, and Adolin nodded. There was one down the hallway, behind a long hanging banner, and they ducked into it, trying to ensure the fabric covering wouldn’t sway behind them. They slowed their pace once they were in the hidden corridors, winding their way towards the kitchens. The servants looked at them curiously, and Adolin moved over to the Kholin family cook - a delightful old Herdazian woman named Enna who had taken the position early in their time in the war camps. 

“My Prince!” She lifted her hand and patted him on the cheek as he approached. Adolin smiled at her. 

“Enna, if anyone comes in asking for Renarin or I, can you tell them you haven’t seen us?” He asked. He had a great relationship with the woman and hoped it would be to his benefit today. She grinned and stepped back. 

“And what does Enna get from this arrangement, hmm?” She raised one eyebrow and Adolin shook his head affectionately. 

“Renarin can ensure you get anything you want for the kitchen,” he told her and she made a noise of consideration. 

“Chull head?” She asked. He looked over at his brother, who looked squeamish but nodded. 

“Chull head it is. Thank you,” he pulled her in for a hug, garnering him a surprised squeak from the matron, and then stood back. “Thank you,” he repeated.

The two of them slipped out the kitchen door into the small rockbud garden just outside it. 

“Is there a highstorm this evening?” He asked his brother as they slipped quietly from shadow to shadow. There was a commotion in the keep behind them and Adolin knew their escape had been noticed. Renarin shook his head.

“Next one is in two days. What’s the plan now?” Renarin asked him and Adolin grimaced. He hadn’t really thought that far ahead but they needed to be quick - as soon as Dalinar realized Adolin had fled the keep he’d send reinforcements to the jail to keep him from reaching Kaladin. 

“I… don’t know,” he admitted. 

“Ok, the jail guards likely haven’t been given any instructions about me, yet,” Renarin said. “So I think I’m the better candidate to actually get into the place.” 

“But you can’t fight your way through the guards,” Adolin pointed out. They were making their way past the first row of buildings just beyond the keep. Once they got into the more crowded areas nearer the market they could make better time. “And how are you going to get back out of the building once you get Kaladin free?” 

“I can find out where he’s being held. Hopefully there will be an external wall you can cut through with your blade. I’ll get the information and get it to you. But first you need to hide.” Renarin looked around before moving to another patch of shadow. Darkness was falling quickly, giving them better protection against being spotted. “Go to Bridge Four.”

“That’s the first place they’ll look,” Adolin looked at him doubtfully. Renarin nodded.

“It is, which is why you’ll take your time about it. Hopefully the guards will be there and gone when you get there. Then you’ll ask them to help you get the supplies you need and to help you hide in the chasms.” 

“The chasms?” Adolin swallowed hard at the thought but his brother nodded emphatically.

“Those men were able to train with the spear in secret in the chasms, to become the close-knit unit they are now. They know them and they’re comfortable in them. They’ll know what to do. And you have a shardblade for safety.” Renarin stopped behind a nearby building. Adolin snorted.

“One man without plate is going to die if they meet a chasmfiend, shardblade or not,” he said, remembering the day they’d gone hunting with his cousin the king and been attacked by the creature they were supposed to be killing.

“Then be careful,” Renarin replied simply and Adolin rolled his eyes but he didn’t argue. He didn’t have a better plan and Renarin was brilliant in his own way. He’d just have to trust his brother's mind.

Kaladin was surprised when he heard footsteps coming towards his cell. It was the first time anyone approached since he’d been brought in and he assumed it would be the King or Dalinar. He was shocked to see Renarin Kholin coming down the hallway. 

“Renarin?” He stood and walked to the bars of the cell. He and Adolin’s brother weren’t close but there was something earnest and genuine about him that Kaladin liked. Syl went through the bars and fluttered around the prince.

Renarin walked to the cell and looked behind him before he spoke. “Captain,” he greeted. “Are the men treating you well?” 

“They’ve mostly ignored me,” Kaladin admitted. 

“Good.” Renarin glanced over his shoulder again. “Adolin told me everything. He’s left the keep and is hopefully hiding right now, with some help from your men.”

Kaladin grunted. He wasn’t going to chance asking where Adolin was hiding and having it overheard. “So why are you here?” 

“Just wanted to check out where you were staying,” Renarin gave him a sly grin. “Make sure you’re comfortable and being treated well. It’s the least I can do for my brother since he can’t come himself.”

“I think they’re planning something!” Syl exclaimed and Kaladin had to stop himself from biting out a sarcastic reply. 

“Thank you,” he responded, inclining his head to show he had gotten the subtle message. 

Renarin considered the cell behind Kaladin and then pointed to one of the walls. “Avoid that wall. I heard it gathers a lot of condensation from the outside at night.” Kaladin nodded. “I’ll let Adolin know you’re well.”

“Appreciate it,” Kaladin replied, and Renarin turned and left back the way he had come. As soon as he was gone, Syl zipped around his head excitedly. She had told him about Adolin’s confrontation with his father and cousin but had left when Adolin had asked to retire to his rooms. Apparently she should’ve stayed with him.

“It sounds like they’re planning to break you out!” She made a motion like a small child jumping up and down excitedly, which looked odd with her hovering in the air. 

“Go,” he told her. “Find Rock, ask him where they’re hiding Adolin. Then go to Adolin and see if you can find out more about the plan.” 

“Reveal myself?” She asked, and he nodded. 

“This time, I think you have to.” 

Adolin did not like the chasms. They were unsettling, although they were hauntingly beautiful in the fading light. Lopen, the one-armed Herdazian man, was with him and Adolin had been amazed to watch him climb down the ladder into the cavernous fissure. 

“So you and the Captain, huh?” Lopen asked. There was no judgement in his voice and Adolin wasn’t surprised by that. These men loved Kaladin and they were fiercely loyal and protective of him. They’d never be mad about something that made their captain happy.

“Yeah,” he replied. 

“You love him enough to do all this, gon? Seems pretty drastic.” 

“I love him more than anything,” he told the other man. “If the only way I can be with him means giving up my inheritance and running away, so be it.” 

It was the most honest thing he’d ever said. 

Adolin didn't quite know when the love had happened, but he knew when it'd started, at least in part. 

He and Kaladin hadn’t started out on friendly terms. Kaladin disliked and distrusted lighteyes and Adolin had a hard time getting through his shields and disliked his father’s instant trust in the man. They were at best tolerant of one another, until that evening they went out on patrol.

Adolin had fallen, the ground beneath him giving way unexpectedly. He’d been knocked unconscious and when he awoke, Kaladin was sitting beside him - a fire blazing nearby, the wound on his head neatly stitched and bandaged. The other men who had been with them returned to camp to relay what had happened and Kaladin’s promise to return with Adolin - alive and mostly well - the following day. 

During the course of that long, frigid night, their relationship had shifted. They’d needed to huddle close to one another for warmth, lacking the appropriate gear for an overnight in such low temperatures. He’d learned that Kaladin’s father was a surgeon and he’d been the man’s apprentice until he’d joined Amaram’s army. That was why he’d stayed behind with Adolin while the others went back - he knew how to tend the head wound and watch for signs of concussion and other injury. 

They hadn’t slept. Kaladin hadn’t wanted Adolin to do so after he’d hit his head and he stayed awake talking with him until the sun began to rise and they could begin their journey back. They were met halfway by another patrol with a pair of extra horses for them - Adolin had gratefully climbed on the back of one and laughed as Kaladin refused and continued to walk. 

After that, it seemed they’d been able to see each other for the men they really were, beyond the facade each of them wore to survive. They’d become friends and then lovers and then they’d realized they were in love. It’d been so natural, like breathing air. 

And now they were being forced to flee to protect it. 

“Well, if Kal likes you and you make him happy, then Bridge Four is here to help,” Lopen said, smiling over at Adolin as they sat on a pair of boulders tucked beneath a ledge just outside of Dalinar’s camp. 

A lone wind spren flitted by, and then circled around and came back to them. 

“Sylphrena!” Lopen called out, and Adolin was confused as the windspren became a ribbon of light and rippled over to him. “How’s my goncho holding up?” 

To Adolin’s amazement, the windspren shifted shape again, this time becoming a tiny woman in a flowing, girlish dress with long hair. “Renarin visited him,” she told Lopen. Adolin’s eyes went wide. The spren had spoken! And seemed to be conscious of the world around it. “He wants to know more about the actual plan - obviously Renarin couldn’t say much.” 

Lopen looked over at Adolin, and laughed. The girl spren drifted over to him. 

“My name is Sylphrena.” She introduced herself with a smile. “I’m an honorspren, bonded to Kaladin.” 

“Bonded?” 

“It’s called the Nahel bond, the bond that gave the ancient Radiants their powers.” A shiver ran through Adolin at the mention of the Radiants. “Kaladin doesn’t possess such abilities, yet. But he does have me, which means I can help.” 

“I have so many questions,” Adolin managed to say and the spren - Sylphrena - shook her head. 

“No time. But Kaladin will explain everything once you’re safe,” she said. He nodded. 

“Yeah, okay,” he knew she was correct - right now they needed to get out of the camps. 

“Teft, Skar, and Drehy are finding you supplies now,” Syl informed him. “Rock is packing food. Once you’re ready I’ll let Kaladin know you’re on your way.” 

Kaladin had actually been dozing off when Sylphrena finally returned, deep in the night. He yawned hugely and ran a hand over his face as she woke him. 

“They’re coming!” She told him. 

He jolted up from the bed, moving away from the wall Renarin had indicated, and waited. 

The waiting was the worst part. He couldn’t help worrying that Adolin would be spotted, that whatever disguise they had planned wouldn’t work and he’d be taken into custody. Or that the guards wouldn’t be fooled by whatever distraction they had planned. But he knew Adolin - knew every part of him - and he had to trust that he would get to him one way or another. 

It took more than an hour before he heard banging on the wall outside his cell. Almost simultaneously there was some sort of ruckus in the direction of the jail’s entrance, drawing the guards’ attention both inside and outside of the building. Then there was motion at the wall and the massive blade of Adolin’s shardblade sheared easily through the rock of the prison, low to the floor. 

Adolin carved a hole just big enough that Kaladin could shimmy through it, after throwing his meager blankets onto the rock outcropping that served as a bed to help cover up his escape. When he was out, they pushed the block back into the space and ducked quickly across the street into the dark of an alley as the ruckus at the front of the building continued. 

“Kal!” Adolin pulled him into a fierce embrace as soon as they stopped. When he stepped back, Kaladin noticed all of the black had been colored out of his hair and his eyes were brown. He was dressed in simple laborer’s clothing and smelled faintly of sweat and decay. They couldn’t stop for long, but needed to get their bearings before continuing on. 

“Where are we headed?” Kaladin asked. Along with Adolin were Skar and Drehy. 

“Sebarial’s camp,” Adolin said. “We can hide there until we can get some reliable horses and find a merchant’s party we can travel back towards Alethkar with.” 

Movement between the camps wasn’t simple, especially at night. During the day, messengers went between the craters, along with merchants and sometimes even the nobility and their soldiers attending meetings and visiting friends. Sebarial’s camp was the furthest from Dalinar’s, the southern most camp and the most welcoming of strangers due to his business-friendly policies. It was a sensible place to hide, if they could get there. 

“Won’t your father search every camp?” Kaladin asked, and Adolin shrugged. 

“Skar and Drehy are going to rent the room,” he said, indicating the other two men. “Our names won’t be associated with it. We come in the back way so no one sees us, stay in the room at all times until Bridge Four lets us know the search has died down or there’s a party traveling away from the camps. One or the other of them will drop by the pay the bill periodically.” 

“And we’re getting there how?” 

“We’re soldiers,” Skar said. “Got ourselves a couple of Cobalt Guard uniforms and some makeup to cover these,” he motioned to their Bridge Four tattoos, “we’re going to be searching for the prince too.” 

“That gets you and Drehy past the guards as long as they don’t recognize you,” Kaladin pointed out. “But what about us?” 

“We hide in the chasms,” Adolin put in. “We’ll meet up with them further south, with Syl’s guidance.” 

“You met Syl?” 

“Yeah,” Adolin took his hand and squeezed it. “I have questions. But for now let’s get out of here, huh?” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Kaladin agreed. 

The patrols were thick along the road between Dalinar’s camp and the surrounding two or three directly to each side. They knew when Kaladin’s escape was discovered - suddenly there was a great commotion behind them as the alert was raised. They stayed close to the chasm wall, using only one sphere each to light their way as they moved. Adolin felt a little more settled in the chasms with Kaladin beside him, following Sylphrena’s lead away from Dalinar’s crater to the south. 

“I know they,” Adolin gestured upwards, meaning the soldiers from the Kholin camp, “won’t follow us down here. I just hope something more sinister isn’t on our trail…”

“Chasmfiends rarely come this close to the camps,” Kaladin assured him, as if Adolin wasn’t aware. It didn’t mean he wasn’t still terrified of the idea. “And Syl will let us know if she spots anything unusual.” 

Adolin looked over at Kaladin, his face illuminated by the shifting light of the spheres they each held for light as they traveled. “Tell me more about her,” he said. “About Syl, and this bond the two of you have.” 

“She started following me on my way to the Shattered Plains, soon after I got this,” Kaladin gestured to the shash brand on his forehead. “At first I thought she was just a particularly annoying windspren. She didn’t have the sort of personality and ability to think for herself that she does now… It was actually Teft who figured out that I was somehow using stormlight to heal myself. It’s why I didn’t die when I was strung out in that highstorm.” Adolin hummed. “Since then I’ve learned how to control the healing, and some other things that I can do with Stormlight.”

“So you’re… a Radiant?” Adolin’s voice trembled a bit, and Kaladin shrugged. 

“I’m honestly not sure how it all works, and Syl’s memories are scattered.” He looked down the long chasm that the spren had disappeared down a few minutes before. Adolin simply nodded and kept moving. They didn’t have time to stop - their plan rested on them reaching Sebarial’s camp ahead of the searching soldiers, and their path was anything but straight. They wound eastward and back north, southwest once again. Adolin would never have been able to navigate it without Sylphrena. 

“Do you really think this will work?” Kaladin asked him doubtfully after a few minutes. Adolin sighed, running a hand through his hair, and looked up at the sky in an attempt to determine the time. 

“Honestly, I don’t know,” he finally replied. “But we have to try. I can’t just give up - won’t just give up. If it all ends in disaster at least I will know we tried. And my love for you is worth trying everything .” He reached a hand out to rest on Kaladin’s arm, stopping him and making him turn to face him. “Kaladin, if we do manage to escape… will you marry me? Speak oaths in front of an ardent?” 

Kaladin gazed at him with his deep brown eyes, which shimmered with emotion. He swallowed and nodded, one side of his mouth pulling up in a small, tender smile. “I would love that.” Adolin’s own chest filled with joy at the words but there isn’t any more time to bask in the moment, and they turn in unison to continue down to the fissure. 

Kaladin didn’t trust how easily they’d reached Sebarial’s camp and the inn where they were going to hole up to wait until they could escape the Shattered Plains altogether. Adolin told him not to overthink it, happily stripping off his dirty clothing as soon as the door closed behind them and beginning to wash himself with the water in the basin near a wardrobe with a cracked mirror on the front. 

Still dubious, Kaladin double checked the lock and then sat down heavily to remove his own boots. Neither of them spoke as they went through their ablutions - ridding themselves of torn, sweaty, dirt-covered clothing, washing faces and hands and more intimate areas where sweat had collected during their journey, cleaning their teeth and brushing out their hair. 

Finally, exhausted and with nothing else to do, they climbed naked into the bed and curled up against one another. 

“Damnation, Kal - I honestly thought I’d never see you again,” Adolin admitted, pulling Kaladin closer so their foreheads were touching. He tangled their legs together and looked into Kaladin’s eyes, expression soft and affectionate. 

“I don’t like this,” Kal whispered in response, touching the skin just beside Adolin’s eye, running his thumb along the rim of it. 

“My eyes?” Adolin asked, and Kaladin nodded. 

“I prefer their natural color,” he said. “Your hair too. The black is part of you. The blue is part of you. I hate that you have to hide yourself.” 

“I’ll do it as long as I have to, for you,” Adolin leaned in then and pressed a kiss to his lips. “We’re going to escape, Kal. I promise.” 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, princeling,” Kaladin replied, and then he shifted his hand from the side of Adolin’s face to the back of his head, bringing them more closely together for a deep and passionate kiss. He rolled his hips forward, pressing their sensitive flesh together in invitation and Adolin made a noise of eager assent. Kaladin moved then, shifting so that he was straddling Adolin, who now lay on his back, looking up at him with those foreign dark eyes. “For now, I think it’s time to celebrate our engagement properly,” he whispered, desperate to quiet his worry for even a few minutes. 

He set about taking Adolin apart, bit by bit. He started with the sensitive skin just beneath the prince’s ear, biting and sucking at it until a bruise began to blossom as a result of his ministrations. He did the same again and again down the length of his pale neck, making Adolin whimper beneath him. That whimpering turned into a low and needy moan as Kaladin’s lips found the hard nub of one of his nipples. He brought his other hand up to the opposite pectoral to roll that one between his fingers as his tongue teased at the other. Adolin had exceptionally sensitive nipples and sometimes Kaladin wondered if he could make him climax simply by overwhelming him with the sensation of his hands and mouth on them. 

But not today. 

Today he needed to feel Adolin, and so he discontinued his licking and sucking of the man’s nipples and moved lower, kissing along the smattering of blonde and black hairs that led from Adolin’s bellybutton down to his straining erection. He kissed the tip of it, just the gentlest brush of his lips across the sensitive slit, and then swung himself off Adolin and the bed. Adolin whined, but quieted when Kaladin pressed a quick kiss to his lips before he went to their bags. He rummaged in one of the bags, pulling the medical kit Bridge Four had included from his own barracks room out and extracting from it a small vial of oil. It wasn’t the usual sort they used when they had penetrative sex, but it was a simple burn oil that would do the job. 

He crawled back over top of Adolin, who had reached down to stroke himself lazily as he watched Kaladin move across the room. 

“You really brought oil?” He asked skeptically, and Kaladin chuckled. 

“No, but my men were thoughtful enough to send a first aid kit along that happened to have a suitable alternative,” he responded, moving back down until he was settled between the other man’s legs and batting his hand away. 

Adolin groaned as Kaladin took his hard cock into his mouth, head falling back against the pillows and eyes closing. Kaladin hummed around him as he situated himself so he could simultaneously open himself using the oil from the vial. 

“Oh, Kelek’s breath - the sight of you right now,” Adolin’s voice was hoarse, broken on the force of his arousal and the pleasure Kaladin was giving him with his mouth and tongue. He had opened his eyes and looked down to see him, mouth stretched around his dick, fingers plunging into his own ass. 

Kaladin was able to open himself quickly, drawing stormlight to ease the process. He slowed his attention on Adolin to keep him from coming too soon and withdrew his fingers. He lifted his head, and gave the tip of Adolin’s dick one last lick before he moved again. Adolin’s chest was heaving, skin blotchy with his arousal and eyes almost black with the fake brown of their color and the dilation of his pupils. Kaladin lifted himself onto his knees and reached between them to guide Adolin’s member into himself as he sat back onto it. 

A moan punched out of him as he seated himself fully down, and Adolin’s hands found their way to his hips. He took a few deep, steadying breaths and then began to move. Adolin’s hands guided only slightly, and soon they were rocking together in a familiar rhythm. Kaladin bit his lip as he rode Adolin hard, finally giving into his own desire and grasping his own aching cock in his fist to stroke it in time with the motion. His mind was wonderfully, delightfully blank as he lost himself in love and lust and pleasure. 

Adolin said his name like a prayer, soft and reverent, and Kaladin leaned forward to capture his lips in a bruising kiss. Adolin’s left hand drifted up and tangled in Kaladin’s hair, tugging gently and making Kaladin moan against his lips. 

“You take such good care of me,” Adolin whispered. “So, so good to me.” 

Kaladin whimpered then. Such talk always made him feel like he was falling to pieces, bringing him closer and closer to release. Adolin knew it, and continued to praise Kaladin as they both chased their pleasure using one another. 

Kaladin broke first, falling over the edge into orgasm with a grunt, leaving hot streaks of white on Adolin’s stomach and chest. Kaladin’s ass clenched and Adolin made a strangled noise, thrusting again and again until he found his own climax.

They stayed there in their shared bliss for long moments, each man riding out his own sensation, until the spend between them and inside of Kaladin began to grow uncomfortable. There was no need for words as Kal rolled off of Adolin and let him get a wet cloth to clean them up with. Adolin was gentle and attentive, kissing Kaladin as he wiped his chest and stomach and the lower regions of his body. When he was finished, Kaladin pulled the covers up around himself and waited until he finished washing himself and returned to the bed. 

They wrapped their bodies together again, naked skin hot where it touched, smelling of sweat and something muskier. 

“I love you,” Adolin said, pressing a kiss to the top of Kaladin’s head, which was tucked underneath his own chin. 

Kaladin returned the sentiment and then took a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to fall asleep before his worries returned.

Chapter Text

The War Camps - The Shattered Plains - Three Years Ago

“I still don’t know why Dalinar wants you to accompany us on patrol,” Kaladin complained, looking over at Adolin, who sat astride a normal horse beside his own shifting animal, looking for all the world like he spent every moment of every day on horseback. Kaladin hated how comfortable the princeling looked while he shifted and fought against the reins of the animal underneath his own weight. Couldn’t the man be bad at just one thing? “My men and I are perfectly capable.” 

Adolin shoved his mop of hair back from his forehead and shrugged. “I know he trusts you, bridgeboy. But he wanted me to get a feel for things beyond the camps. Probably sent me with your patrol specifically because he trusts you.” 

Kaladin grunted. The patrol was eight men - the two of them, Skar and Drehy, and four others from the recently freed bridge crews. They were supposed to spend the day making their rounds and be back by dinner. He didn’t want to spend all day with Adolin Kholin, but he could manage it. 

“You going to be ok there?” Adolin asked as Kaladin’s horse shied to one side, leaving him cursing it and pulling at the reins. “You’re being awfully hard on her mouth. Relax your grip, she’s dancing like that because you’re giving her confusing signals - you’re telling her to go left and right, to go and to stop, all at the same time.” 

“I’m fine ,” he snapped in reply, even though he clearly wasn’t. He hated horses, didn’t trust them as far as he could throw them. But he wasn’t about to admit it. “Let’s just get on with it.” 

The group started off. Skar and Drehy were laughing behind him, doing their best to bring the other four into their conversation. Kaladin liked to bring the two of them on patrols because the men from other crews seemed to take to them, increasing morale and cooperation among the larger body of new soldiers. The patrols rarely came across anything concerning, but Kaladin enjoyed having the freedom to go beyond the camp, and knowing that the men he left to handle the day’s duties could do them without his supervision. He hated that he couldn’t just walk, but horses were faster, allowing them to cover more ground in one day. Normally he was in good spirits when it came to patrol. 

Normally he didn’t have Adolin storming Kholin along with him, trying to talk with him and correcting his seat in the saddle. He ignored him with every bit of willpower he had, which wasn’t terribly hard considering how much concentration riding without embarrassing himself took, but the other man still insisted on trying to create conversation. 

They’d been riding for several of hours, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, when Kaladin called them to a stop. They would need to turn back soon anyway, and he’d rocked in the saddle, making him wonder if his girth had loosened. It felt like he was tipping to the left - ironically, the direction that took him away from Adolin and his incessant chatter. He dismounted and led the horse over to some scrubby shade, tying it there and getting out his water skin. 

The men stretched and rubbed at their backs, laughing and talking as they took a break - eating whatever they’d brought with them, drinking water and seeing to their horses’ needs. Kaladin pulled out the leather strip he’d tied his hair back with and refastened it, then checked the girth on his mount. It had loosened, so he quickly pulled it tight again and looped the straps back through. 

“This is boring,” Sylphrena complained. “You never do anything exciting anymore.” 

“What, like almost get myself killed running bridges?” He replied and Syl shrugged. 

“At least that was exciting,” she said and he rolled his eyes. He pulled out a ration bar and took a bite of it, preparing to go talk to Skar, when he heard a shout and a noise like falling rocks. 

“What was that?” He called out, and the other men all got to their feet and rushed in the direction of the noise. They found Adolin on the ground, partially covered by dirt and rocks, unconscious. He was bleeding profusely from a deep cut in his head. Kaladin looked around, and then up, noticing that the embankment they were standing by seemed to have given way. He wasn’t sure if Adolin had been standing on it or below it when it happened but that didn’t matter right now. 

“Get the rock off of him - don’t move him,” he commanded, and then he went around to check the head wound and palpate the prince’s neck to ensure it wasn’t broken. Damnation, Dalinar would execute him if he came back with a crippled or dead Adolin. So Kaladin set to work ensuring that that would not be the case. 

Adolin awoke to a throbbing pain in his head. He opened his eyes and regretted it, immediately shutting them again and opening them more slowly the second time. The light that had hurt him hadn’t been from the sun, but from a fire. The day was slowly shifting to night, and evening was dark and chill upon him. He groaned a bit and tried to move. 

“Take it easy, princeling.” Kaladin was beside him then, helping him sit up. Adolin put a hand to his aching head and felt a thin line of stitches just below his hairline. 

“What happened?” He asked. The motion of sitting up had made him a bit queasy and he closed his eyes, swallowing against the pain and the bile threatening to rise up from his stomach. 

“The outcropping you were standing on or under gave way,” Kaladin answered, voice low and gentle. “You hit your head pretty hard on the way down. Probably concussed.” 

Adolin didn’t remember falling. He recalled getting off his horse and going up to the top of an embankment to look out across a clearing and then waking up now. “Damnation my head hurts,” he groaned. 

“I have some herbs to help with the pain,” Kaladin said. “I couldn’t give them to you until you woke up. Let me heat some water.” 

They were situated in a curve of rock, and Kaladin had put a horse’s saddle blanket under his head, which Adolin scooped up now and used to lean against the stone. He watched with bleary, aching eyes as Kaladin heated water and mixed in some herbs from a pouch in his saddlebags before handing the cup over to him. 

“Sip it slowly. It will help with the nausea too,” he instructed. 

“How’d you know I was nauseous?” Adolin asked, sipping some of the hot liquid and grimacing at the taste. 

“I saw your face when you sat up. You went green and your throat bobbed like you were fighting not to vomit.” Kaladin sat beside him. Adolin didn’t think the other man had ever been so close to him voluntarily. The herb water tasted sour but it was soothing his roiling stomach. 

“Where’s everybody else?” 

“Hopefully back at camp,” Kaladin had brought his saddlebags over with him and was rummaging in its pockets. “I told them to go back and inform your father of the accident, and that I would see you home safely tomorrow.” He pulled out a small, stoppered bottle and popped off the top, putting the pad of his index finger over the opening and tipping it up to coat his fingertip in the oily substance within. “Let me see your head.”

Adolin tipped his head towards Kaladin, and he dabbed whatever was in the bottle gently across the stitched line of Adolin’s wound. 

“What is it?” He asked. It smelled pungent but not bad. 

“Keeps rotspren away,” Kaladin replied, re-stoppering the bottle and stashing it back in the bag. 

“You have an entire infirmary in there,” Adolin noted, trying to raise his eyebrow but stopping when it tugged on his stitches and made him wince. “Did you do these too?” He motioned at the offending lines of thread and Kaladin gave a curt nod.

“Yes. And I never leave camp without medical supplies. You can thank me by not dying before I can get you back to Dalinar. Do what you want after that.” 

“Oh, c’mon bridgeboy, you’d miss me if I was dead,” Adolin teased. The herbs were definitely helping ease his headache and he could never resist an opportunity to rile the other man up. He made it too easy. 

“And what about you would I miss, precisely?” Kaladin looked at him. “Your incessant chatter? The overpowering stench of your cologne? The way you flirt with everything on two legs?” 

“Oh, are you jealous because I don’t flirt with you ?” Adolin winked and Kaladin rolled his eyes. “I happen to think I am a joy to be around.” 

“That’s because you don’t have to be around yourself,” Kaladin pointed out. 

“Ouch. Well it’s not like you have a sunny disposition, Captain Sad Face. Someone has to make up for all of the gloomy energy you spread around.” Adolin watched as Kaladin’s hand dipped back into his bag and came out with what was obviously a roll of bandage. 

Kaladin didn’t reply. He moved onto his knees then and began to apply the sticky cloth to his forehead to cover the deep gash. His touch was gentle and he seemed confident in what he was doing. 

“How’d you learn about all this, anyway?” Adolin inquired as Kaladin began re-packing his things. “The medical stuff.” 

“I’m going to sit close to you. It’s getting cold and we don’t have proper supplies. We’ll have to use the saddle blanket and each other to keep warm.” Kaladin informed him. Adolin didn’t object - it was the most sensible thing to do. “I need you to stay awake until morning. Can you do that?” 

Adolin really didn’t want to do that, but he made an affirmative noise. “Good.” 

They got situated, as close to the fire as they dared, sides pressed together with the makeshift blanket thrown over their laps. It was getting chilly and Adolin was thankful for the warmth. 

“My father is a surgeon.” 

“What?” Adolin looked over at Kaladin, confused. 

“You asked how I knew about medicine,” he reminded him. “My father is a surgeon. I was his apprentice, until I ended up in Amaram’s army.” He was looking down at his hands, as if considering their conflicting uses. 

“Why’d you leave?” Adolin regretted asking as soon as he’d spoken the words. He and Kaladin weren’t friends, and he didn’t have any right to know more about his history. But he needed to stay awake. That meant he had to keep talking, to the least talkative man on the face of Roshar. Kaladin was quiet for a long time. He dropped his hands and turned his gaze to the fire. 

“I was exempt from the draft, because of my apprenticeship,” he answered softly after what seemed like hours. “But my father had gotten on the citylord’s bad side. After he failed to save the life of his son after a whitespine attack, Roshone decided to take one of my father’s sons in retribution. My brother, Tien, wasn’t exempt. He was also only 13 and seemed much younger, much more innocent, than that. I went to keep him safe.” 

Adolin’s heart hurt when he heard that last line, spoken with so much sadness that it was obvious Kaladin had not been able to do what he’d set out to do. He couldn’t imagine losing Renarin, the person he loved most in the world, that he’d spent so many years protecting from Dalinar’s rages and disappointment. “Storms, I’m sorry,” he whispered. He meant it, and he felt a little badly about his own behavior towards the Captain. He had obviously been through a lot that he didn’t know - hard things, bad things if the slave brands were anything to go by. What had Adolin been through in his life other than the loss of his mother that could possibly compare? 

“I don’t need your pity, princeling,” Kaladin’s response was unexpectedly terse and Adolin frowned. 

“It’s not pity,” he said. “I am sorry. I have a little brother that I would do anything to protect too, if you’ve forgotten.” 

“I haven’t forgotten. Renarin reminds me a lot of Tien, actually.” Kaladin looked at him then. “That’s why I like him better than you.” That made Adolin laugh, which then made him wince. The herbs had helped with the pain but that didn’t mean it was gone entirely. “Are you alright?” 

Kaladin had instantly shifted back into medic mode at Adolin’s pained expression, but Adolin waved him off. 

“It’s fine,” he assured. “I’d love to lay down and go to sleep though.” 

“Once you’re back at the camp tomorrow you can sleep as much as you want,” Kaladin told him and Adolin sighed. Of all the people to be stuck out in the wilderness overnight with - when he can’t even go to sleep to pass the time - it had to be Kaladin. Curmudgeonly, stubborn, unpersonable Kaladin. It might not be so bad if Adolin’s head didn’t still ache and he wasn’t so exhausted but it did and he was. 

“Why are you so hostile towards me?” Adolin didn’t think he would ever have actually asked had it not been for the concussion but he did wonder. He had, admittedly, been mistrustful of Kaladin in the beginning, when Dalinar had first brought them on as guards. But he’d moved past it, or was trying to. But Kaladin never seemed to give any ground. 

“I don’t trust lighteyes on principle.” Kaladin’s answer felt almost practiced, as if it was a motto he lived by. 

“But you trust my father.” It was a simple statement of fact. Kaladin shrugged. 

“Dalinar is different,” he replied and Adolin looked at him. He wanted to tell Kaladin what a bastard his father actually was, how he’d been after Adolin’s mother’s death, what he was like when he was in his cups. He wanted to remind him  of all the horrific things the Blackthorn had done during the war to unify Alethkar. 

“And you like Renarin,” Adolin pointed out. Another shrug, another statement that he was different. Adolin pinched the bridge of his nose and gave up. He’d never had to force people to like him and he wasn’t about to start with some dark-eyed guard Captain. 

Kaladin wished Adolin would stop asking so many questions. It was good that he was talking - it would help him remain awake until they could get back to camp - but he was being unusually nosy. The princeling was prone to inane chatter and Kaladin had learned to tune that out, mostly. But these were probing inquiries - questions Kaladin would rather not answer, or didn’t know how to answer. 

He didn’t really know why he was still so standoffish where Adolin was concerned. He had never done anything to him or his men, and he had helped that whore back in Sadeas’ camp. Although then he’d thrown a sphere at him and gave him an order like he was some sort of servant, just expecting to be listened to. 

But that was so long ago, now. He knew that the man who’d given aid to the woman was who Adolin really was - someone who was kind and compassionate to everyone regardless of social standing. And still he struggled to move beyond his initial dislike of Adolin. 

The other man had stopped talking and so he turned to make sure he wasn’t dozing off. He wasn’t, he was simply regarding Kaladin in the firelight with a somber expression on his face, the flames flickering in the blue of his eyes, making them dance with color. 

“You know why you keep him at a distance,” Syl said. She’d been remarkably quiet up until now and he just barely stopped himself from jumping at her interjection. 

“Don’t you dare bring that up again,” he threatened, voice low so Adolin wouldn’t hear.

“Why not? It’s true. You’re attracted to him and it scares you.” The little spren danced around the fire, and then flew close to Adolin’s face as if examining him. “He is handsome.” Kaladin sighed and tried to ignore her. Of course, in typical Sylphrena fashion, she didn’t stop just because he wasn’t answering her. She had that in common with Adolin, actually. “He wants you to like him.” 

“And how exactly do you know what he wants?” 

“I have eyes.” She huffed. “That’s also how I know you think he’s cute.” 

“Adolin Kholin is not cute.” He rolled his eyes at her and she laughed. 

“Oh? And what word would you use?” 

He chose not to answer her, but did turn to the man in question. “How is your head? Any more nausea?” 

“Head hurts but not as much. My stomach is fine. Actually, I’m hungry,” Adolin answered and Kaladin nodded. 

“Good. Unfortunately we don’t have much in the way of food,” he pulled Adolin’s pack over to them. “Unless you have something? I didn’t want to go digging in your bags.” 

Adolin did have a couple of ration bars, so they each ate one and then Kaladin moved back to lean against the stone, shifting closer to Adolin as the cold of the night crept in. He wanted to sleep too, but it wouldn’t be safe or fair to Adolin if he did. So, he broke the silence, looking up at the sky. 

“I don’t mean to be hostile,” he said. Adolin made a noise that was clearly disbelieving, so he continued. “It’s hard for me to trust. I didn’t even trust Dalinar, in the beginning. I kept expecting to end up back with Sadeas, expected Dalinar to regret giving away his blade for a ragtag group of slaves and debtors.” He could see Adolin turn his head toward him in his peripheral vision, but continued to look at the sky. “I don’t get to have good things, Adolin. Something always takes them away from me. I can’t just… be friendly like you.”  

He did look at Adolin then. Syl wasn’t wrong - Kaladin found him incredibly attractive. Even dirty, exhausted, and bruised like he was now, Adolin was beautiful. It wasn’t something he was used to feeling and he hated that he felt it towards a lighteyes. Not just any lighteyes, but Dalinar’s son, his heir. He left that part out and hoped it didn’t show on his face. He was already extremely uncomfortable with how much he had just admitted. 

“I can’t relate but I can understand,” Adolin replied. “And I’m sorry, for being so unwelcoming at first. My father had been acting so erratic, and then he gave up his blade for a bunch of slaves… I was worried about him and unjustifiably suspicious of you.” 

Kaladin simply grunted at that but Syl was smiling on his shoulder. It felt like something had shifted - like the two of them had found some common ground - and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. But if it made getting through this night easier, Kaladin would take it. 

The War Camps - The Shattered Plains - Approximately 2.75 Years Ago

Adolin loved the days he got to train with Kaladin. It wasn’t a regular thing, as much as he’d like it to be, but when he did get the chance it was exhilarating. Kaladin was unnaturally fast, and pushed Adolin to his limits. He was still uncomfortable with the sword but he’d never seen anyone so good with a spear or a quarterstaff and now that they were on good terms, their training sessions were more intense as they developed a friendly rivalry. Each man wanted to best the other, and then hold it over their head until the next round. 

Today the training was hand-to-hand, an even match for the two of them. What Kaladin had in longer limbs, Adolin had in heavier weight. They stayed upright for a long time, neither one able to quite get enough leverage to drop the other to the sand. 

Adolin slid to the side, trying to bring his arm up to wrap around the back of Kaladin’s neck, both of them slick with sweat. Kaladin growled, ducking the attempt and trying to bring his foot up behind Adolin’s knee and get him to the ground. Adolin grunted but kept his balance and pushed back, trying to find an opening to duck Kaladin’s guard and get a firm grip on his waist. 

“You know,” he huffed out as Kaladin blocked him, “you’re hurting my reputation by being so good.” 

“It’s not my fault you have an audience every time you train,” Kaladin replied, gasping for breath as he did so. 

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t invite them,” Adolin moved again, attempting another takedown by going to Kaladin’s legs. Kaladin made a noise, clearly disbelieving, but wasn’t distracted by the conversation. Kaladin was fast, but his speed wasn’t necessarily an advantage when it came to grappling. He tried to move to wrap Adolin’s waist and Adolin took the opportunity to bring his weight downward and catch Kaladin off-guard, finally managing to get him down on the sand. 

His moment of celebration didn’t last long, as Kaladin flipped them so he was pressed against Adolin’s back, draped over him as he attempted to take his arms out and push him fully onto the ground for a winning pin. Adolin writhed, doing everything he could to get Kaladin’s not-insubstantial weight off of him while not losing his own balance. He pressed back with his lower body and that’s when he felt it. He heard Kaladin suck in a breath and pull back, and then the weight was gone and so was his opponent. 

Adolin got to his feet and saw Kaladin was retreating toward the changing rooms. He followed, not too quickly, but fast enough that he entered the room on the other man’s heels. 

“Adolin, please leave me alone,” Kaladin muttered without turning to look at him. Adolin could see that he was pressing the heel of his palm furiously against the hard length of his erection, which had caused his sudden flight from the training arena. 

“Kal, it’s not a big deal…” Adolin said. “It happens. Especially when there’s adrenaline and sweaty bodies pressed together.” 

“Oh, like you’ve ever gotten hard while wrestling someone?” Kal looked over his shoulder, obviously angry, and Adolin laughed. 

“I definitely have,” Adolin admitted, shrugging. “Like I said, it happens.” Adolin stripped off his training clothes, baring himself down to his shorts, tossing the dirty garments into a nearby hamper. 

“Well, can you just let me take care of it?” Kaladin sounded almost frantic. Adolin moved closer to him, slowly, trying not to scare him. He reached out and gently took the hem of Kaladin’s shirt in his hands, pulling it up and off. He gestured for him to do the same thing with his pants, and when Kaladin was disrobed to his liking, he took a long, lingering look. 

A sudden flood of heat ran through him, pooling in his groin, making him want like he hadn’t in a very long time. The look on Kaladin’s face, the way his breath caught when he looked at Adolin in return, stirred him to action.

Adolin pressed Kaladin back against the wall, eyes locked on his, breaths coming short. Kaladin’s eyes were dark, darker than normal, pupils dilated with desire and he didn’t pull away from him. While Adolin had intended to be the one to initiate the kiss, Kaladin surprised him by leaning down and pressing their mouths together fiercely. Adolin groaned in response and reached out to pull them closer together. Kaladin seemed happy with that arrangement. Adolin used his leg to push Kaladin’s apart, slotting himself into the space so that his suddenly aching cock was caught between himself and the other man’s thigh. 

Oh, Almighty . 

Kaladin groaned at the feeling, and pushed his hips forward to gain more friction. Adolin felt almost giddy and he probed with his tongue, pleased when the other man opened his mouth and let him deepen the kiss. He tangled his hands in Kaladin’s dark hair and focused on the feel of Kaladin’s lips beneath his own, his tongue in his mouth, his hard erection against his thigh. 

They broke apart then, dragging in ragged breaths as they looked at one another. Adolin licked his lips and, boldly, dropped one of his hands to rub against Kaladin’s cock through the fabric of his pants. Kaladin’s head dropped back against the wall and he moaned, hips involuntarily moving forward, seeking more. 

“Kal,” Adolin murmured. “Let me take care of you.” He squeezed, gently, testing the waters. Stormfather, he wanted to taste Kaladin so badly. “Please.”

He saw Kaladin swallow hard and then he gave a jerky nod, closing his eyes and nodding again, more firmly. Adolin grinned, other hand dropping from Kaladin’s hair to his waist, as the other moved up to mirror it on the other side. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of Kaladin’s shorts and tugged, dropping to his knees as he did so. He let the fabric drop to the floor, pooling around Kaladin’s ankles, and took in the sight before him. 

He’d seen most of Kaladin bare on a number of occasions - the long, lean muscle beneath tan skin and dark body hair, scars littering what seemed like every part of him. But Adolin had never seen him completely naked, had never followed the black hair that ran from his bellybutton down to a dark thatch of hair that surrounded his dick. Adolin tipped his head, resting his forehead against the other man’s thigh, breath ghosting over the hard member. His hands ran up Kaladin’s legs, brushing along his skin, up to his waist. He took one more look at Kaladin and then slowly took his hard length into his mouth. 

Kaladin jerked at the sensation, one of his hands falling to rest on Adolin’s head. Adolin stopped when he’d reached the base, nose buried in the coarse hair there, and then slowly began to move. As he pulled back, he brought his right hand over to join his mouth on Kaladin’s dick. Using both hand and mouth, tongue and firm grip, he worked the other man in a steady, patient rhythm. Kaladin’s hand clenched, fingers burying in his hair, urging him on. 

Adolin opened this throat in an attempt to take him deeper, tongue flat against the long vein that ran up the underside. Kaladin was beginning to push with his hand now, trying to control the pace, and Adolin growled. The sound made the other man gasp, hips thrusting forward, and Adolin shoved back with the hand still clutching his hip. Adolin might be on his knees sucking Kaladin’s dick, but he was the one in control here. He was sure he was going to leave bruises from his fingers but he didn’t anticipate anyone else would be seeing Kaladin fully naked anytime soon. Except, hopefully, him - again.

The other man was babbling now, something Adolin had never heard him do, repeating “oh, Stormfather” and “Adolin, damnation” and several other variants on the same notion over and over in between gasps and moans. Adolin’s own cock was heavy against his leg, still confined in his shorts, untouched and desperately hard. He ignored it in favor of Kaladin’s pleasure, which seemed to be barreling towards its climax, dick hardening even further, litany of words becoming increasingly incoherent. 

The hand in his hair tightened and Kal gasped “‘m close” before letting out a long, deep moan. Adolin was ready and took him in without issue. Kelek’s breath - the thick, salty liquid was Kaladin’s release. Adolin worked him through the fullness of his orgasm and then pulled back, wiping his mouth and chin with his forearm before grinning up at Kaladin. The Captain was absolutely beautiful - sweaty, chest heaving, lower lip swollen and red from where he had bitten it in a vain attempt to stay quiet. 

Adolin stood, running a gentle hand down Kaladin’s hair, and leaned in to kiss him again. Then he turned and went to finish washing and changing. 

Kaladin watched Adolin walk away and blinked a few times to clear his mind. The man had just given him a mind-blowing orgasm, kissed him with the taste of his own release still on his lips, and sauntered off. What in the Tenth Name of the Almighty had just happened? 

He wanted to follow, offer to reciprocate - he’d felt Adolin’s own desire against his leg before he’d dropped to his knees - but he wasn’t sure he could move. He was having a hard enough time standing as it was. 

Adolin Kholin had just sucked his dick. Adolin. Kholin. Had just sucked his dick. 

Kaladin’s brain was having trouble processing the sentence. Maybe if he just ignored who had done it, he’d be able to think normally again. By the time he came around fully, Adolin had finished dressing and left. He didn’t even ask Kaladin for anything in return. 

“Are you ok?” Syl was there, looking at him with concern, and he realized he’d been standing against the wall, shorts around his ankles and fully bare, for an unknown amount of time. Storms, he was lucky no one had walked in. He yanked up the shorts and walked across the room to put on his own uniform, still feeling a bit out-of-sorts from the encounter. 

“Do friends normally do that for one another?” Syl asked once she realized he wasn’t in any trouble. Kaladin groaned. He and Adolin had, despite Kaladin’s reservations, become friends after their night together following the patrol. Dalinar had been so appreciative of Kaladin’s efforts to ensure his son came back in one piece he had invited him to dinner with his family and after that Adolin decided he had permission to befriend him. Once Adolin decided someone was his friend, there wasn’t much else they could do except allow it - he was like a force of nature just dragging people along in his wake. 

“No, that is not something friends normally do,” he told her, sitting down to lace up his boots. 

“Then why -” she started to inquire and he cut her off. 

“I don’t know,” he said, tone indicating he really didn’t want to discuss it with her. He couldn’t even begin to guess at the reason Adolin had seemed so eager to pleasure him, so desperate to take him in his mouth. “Kal, let me take care of you, please.” He could’ve used his hand, could’ve rutted against him until they both found release. Or they could’ve ignored Kaladin’s erection all together, even after their furious kiss. And damnation, why had he kissed Adolin in the first place? 

Well, he couldn’t change what had happened and Adolin had seemed pleased enough. He was going to try to shove this down and lock it away and never think of it again. 

That notion lasted only as long as Kaladin didn’t see Adolin, which was half a day. When he saw him again that evening, all he could think about was Adolin’s mouth wrapped around his penis, the taste of his own semen on his mouth as he kissed him, the way his lips felt against his.

“Oh, are you on my detail tonight, bridgeboy?” Adolin asked, raising an eyebrow at him when he opened his door to find Kaladin standing outside of it. “I forgot which day it was.” 

“Yes,” Kaladin replied, forcing himself not to look at Adolin’s lips. He knew Adolin was fully aware of the guard rotation and that was the reason he’d stepped into the hall in the first place. Adolin smiled and looked over at the other guard.

“I’m going to steal the Captain for a few minutes - I need to discuss a security matter with him,” Adolin said, and then tipped his head at Kaladin, who sighed, but followed. When the door closed behind them, Kaladin spoke. 

“What happened earlier?”

Adolin turned to look at him, running the tip of his tongue across his lower lip. It was distracting. Kaladin made himself look at a point just over his shoulder so he could keep himself focused.

“You needed some… help. I gave it to you. Not sure what’s so confusing about that,” Adolin finally replied. Kaladin snorted - help indeed.

“Providing help is assisting someone in carrying a heavy object or giving them your shoulder for balance if they need it. That was not help ,” he countered. 

“Did you like it?” Adolin inquired and Kaladin rolled his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure that was obvious.” 

“Then what’s the issue?” Adolin moved across the room and sat down in a chair, and Kaladin followed, although he remained standing. 

“Adolin, people don’t just do that for no reason.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the back of the other chair.

Adolin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Honestly? I just wanted to. I don’t get many opportunities to do that sort of thing, especially since my father turned us into social pariahs. I trust you, and you’re easy on the eyes. You had your little… problem, and I saw a chance to make you feel good and satisfy my own wants. So I took it.” He looked back at Kaladin then. “If you want to pretend that it never happened, that's fine.” 

“Why did you leave before I could give you something in return?” Kaladin inquired instead, not responding to the last part of the comment. In the military such favors were not entirely unheard of, but they were always reciprocal. Someone just wanting to provide pleasure to another wasn’t part of that. It didn’t seem logical. 

“Did you want to do that?” Adolin’s tone was serious. “Because I expected nothing from you. I just wanted to give you a little something, and sate my own curiosity about what you taste like.”

Oh, damnation. Adolin wondered what he tasted like? 

“I would’ve offered, yes.” He licked his lips and had to look away from the other man, feeling a flush creeping up his neck. He cleared his throat and turned back to Adolin. “Now it seems unfair, that you know what I taste like but I don’t know the same about you.” 

“Oh,” Adolin let out a long breath. “Bridgeboy, you can’t just say things like that. A man might get the wrong idea.” 

“And that would be?” Kaladin tipped his head and Adolin let out a laugh, throwing his head back in delight. 

“You’re not as innocent as you seem, are you, bridgeboy?” He finally said and Kaladin shrugged.

“If you want to find that out too…” he offered, suddenly feeling bold, “I’d be happy to show you.” The lascivious look on Adolin’s face at the suggestion was all the answer Kaladin needed. 

Somehow he’d apparently just fallen into a casual, sexual, not-relationship with the heir to the Kholin Highprincedom. 

The War Camps - The Shattered Plains - Sometime between 2.25 and 2.5 Years ago

Kaladin lay in the ridiculous plush comfort of Adolin’s bed, one arm thrown up over his head, the other clutched in the comforter he’d pulled up to his chest. Adolin was beside him, laying on his side so he could look at him, his hair a mess and lips swollen. He was staring up at the outrageous canopy that covered the bed, trying to bring his breathing and heart rate under control.

Adolin moved closer to him then, smelling of sweat and musk and salt, and Kaladin looked over at him. He was beautiful in his post-coital disarray and Kaladin’s chest tightened, a warmth moving up from his stomach and making him want to smile. He let the desire pull his lips upward and Adolin grinned in response. 

That flash of teeth, the joy in Adolin’s blue eyes, the way he beamed at Kaladin. This, all of it, felt like home. Like love.

Kaladin almost choked on the realization, beginning to cough. Adolin sat up, concerned, and Kaladin waved him off as he prepared to try to pound on his back. “M’fine,” he managed to croak out. “M’fine,” he repeated. 

“What happened?” Adolin asked as he stopped hacking. 

Kaladin looked at him for a long moment, considering Adolin’s face as if to memorize every curve and plane, every mark and freckle and the shape of his lips. How had he not realized before? He was completely and totally gone for this man. 

“Have you ever been in love?” He asked instead of answering. Adolin cocked his head to the side and considered. 

“I thought I was once,” he said finally. “A girl named Asana. But apparently she was using me to get someone else’s attention.” He shrugged and was silent a moment, before he spoke again. “Although, I might be now.” His expression was soft, and he licked his lips nervously. His eyes never left Kaladin’s though, and Kaladin saw exactly what he was feeling reflected back at him in Adolin’s blue gaze.

“Yeah. Me too.” Kaladin whispered and Adolin laughed. 

“Did you just almost choke because you realized you were in love with me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at Kaladin and still laughing. Kal scowled at him. 

“Shut up,” he said, but there was no heat to it. He couldn’t even keep scowling for long. They’d only just had sex - amazing sex, in fact - but the thick emotion between them made Kaladin desperate with need once again. He pulled Adolin down to him, capturing his mouth and kissing with every bit of feeling he had. Adolin wrapped his arm around Kaladin, drawing them closer together, moving himself so he was atop Kaladin, their hot skin pressing and sticking where it touched. 

Their several months of physical encounters had run the gambit from fast and hard to slow and deliberate, but it had never felt like this , like his entire world was wrapped up in his arms and nothing would ever be the same again. He was dizzy with the knowledge that he was in love, in love with Adolin storming Kholin , and that he was loved in return.

Storms. Kaladin felt like he might cry with the press of emotion, and he shoved his face into the crook of Adolin’s neck, breathing deeply. Adolin pulled back after a moment to look at him. “You ok?” He inquired, and Kaladin nodded. “I love you,” Adolin whispered, and the tears Kaladin had been holding back did fall then. 

Kaladin couldn’t get the words out, but he didn’t need to. He put it all into the next kiss, and Adolin made a pleased noise. Adolin’s lips trailed away from his lips then, along his jawline and his neck, simultaneously wiping the tears on the opposite cheek away with the pad of his thumb. Kaladin ran his hands down Adolin’s sides, nails dragging lightly, and tipped his head back to give him full access to his throat. 

“Please, Adolin - I need you,” he murmured. Adolin had just had him but he had subtly sucked in stormlight after they’d finished and he could absolutely handle going again. 

“Again? Kal, is that safe?” He looked up from where he had been laving attention on Kaladin’s nipples. “I could…” 

“It’s fine - I need it,” Kaladin whispered. “I promise it’s fine.” 

“Only if you’re sure,” Adolin’s tone was serious and Kaladin nodded. 

“Please.” 

Adolin needed no further urging. He kissed Kaladin on his breastbone, on his stomach, on the space just above the base of his cock, and then he rolled them so that he was behind Kaladin. Kaladin let himself be maneuvered, desperate for the connection. Adolin gripped his erection as he slid his own hardness once again into Kaladin. Kaladin’s body arched into the connection and Adolin kissed the back of his neck as he moved slowly. He took his time, attentive to Kaladin’s body and Kaladin felt the tears coming again. 

“Oh Kal,” Adolin whispered, the hand that had been stroking him in time with his languorous thrusts coming up to once again swipe the tears from his face. “My love, my gemheart…” 

“I’m ok,” Kaladin assured him. “Just… damnation . I love you.” He managed to say the words, filled with the almost buzzing joy of it, realizing that what they were doing now wasn’t just sex - it was making love. Adolin smiled against his shoulder and returned his hand to its former position, still gently rocking into Kaladin. It was simultaneously too slow, too fast, not enough, too much. Kaladin didn’t need much to find himself coming again, coating Adolin’s plush bedding in the sticky release. 

“You’re so perfect,” Adolin whispered in his ear, and he moved his grip to Kaladin’s waist, increasing his pace just a little so that he soon followed Kaladin over the edge into bliss, murmuring “I love you” as he did.

Adolin was exhausted but was finding sleep elusive. Kaladin had slipped into slumber some time ago, back to Adolin, snoring lightly. He wanted to press himself up against the other man like he had done when they’d made love earlier, but he couldn’t get his mind to turn off.

He’d thought for a while he was falling in love with Kaladin. It’d come along slowly and naturally and the fact that Kaladin felt the same way was overwhelming in the joy it gave him. However, it also brought with it a new set of complications. 

They had already been running a risk by fooling around with one another. While relationships between men weren’t illegal or even really frowned upon within Vorinism, his cousin King Elhokar was strictly against the idea. Even if that weren’t a consideration, their vastly different social standings was an even more pressing problem. Adolin had instigated their relationship at the start, that day he’d sucked Kaladin’s dick in the changing room of the training arena, but in the eyes of the law Kaladin would be considered the instigator. Their relationship was illegal from that standpoint and Kaladin risked imprisonment or death by continuing to be with him. 

Before, when it had just been physical and nothing more, it wasn’t as daunting. They could just stop if they thought someone was catching on. But now… 

Now there were real feelings involved. He’d never expected to fall in love with the Captain but emotions were funny like that and now there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to keep Kaladin happy and safe. He rolled onto his side then, considering the broad expanse of Kaladin’s tan, scarred back. He knew now how he’d collected those marks, and he hated the knowledge because it reminded him of how cruel the world could be to a man they deemed to be less than worthy. 

Well, it was too late now to take things back and Adolin wouldn’t change anything even if he could. He moved close to Kaladin’s back now, gently reaching out to trace the ridges of scar tissue with a gentle finger. Kaladin murmured in his sleep, but didn’t wake and Adolin smiled. This was all he needed - him and Kal, together. He didn’t need to be a prince, or a highprince - he just needed Kaladin. The thought was thrilling and terrifying all at once. He shivered, and finally did press himself up against the other man’s naked back, seeking warmth. He kissed the skin of his shoulder and draped an arm around his waist, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of the wind after a highstorm, electric and clean, that was so unique to Kaladin. 

He needed to stop worrying. They’d gotten good at hiding this thing between them and would continue to do so. If something ever changed that, they’d face it together when the time came. Because they weren’t just Kaladin and Adolin anymore - they were Kaladin and Adolin, a single entity, woven together by their souls .

He pressed his face into the crook of Kaladin’s neck and swallowed hard against the emotions roiling up inside of him. No matter what, he would never give this up. Not for Elhokar or Dalinar or the Stormfather himself. If it took him to damnation, he would go happily as long as Kaladin was by his side.