#kadolin
This is the new Kadolin ship name, right?
Kaladin
Jasnah
Wit
Dalinar
Shallan
Pattern (both of the posts)
Navani
Moash
Adolin
Heralds
Shallan: Can you Please stop fighting with your boyfriend right now?
Kaladin: That is literally your husband, not my boyfriend.
Adolin: You tell her, babe!
Fandom: Stormlight Archives
Pairing: Kaladin/Adolin
Spoilers: For WoK and WoR
Also on AO3http://archiveofourown.org/works/13169070/chapters/30119982
Links to Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3
Chapter 4
The empty stone wall didn’t budge under Adolin’s dark gaze but that didn’t stop him from continuing to stare it down. He was in a bad mood.
Usually, he would go out and distract himself. Spend time with the lighteyed lady he was courting at the moment. Invite her to lunch or dinner, if he had the time. Look at jewellery or clothes in the various stalls and shops throughout the busy camp. Visit the practice grounds and train with his blade until his hair was dark with sweat and his muscles told him to rest and whatever had soured his mood forgotten through the exertion.
Storm whoever it was for attacking him. Storm the bridgeboy for coming up with a plan that kept him safe but also a prisoner of his own quarters.
Thinking about the bridgeboy didn’t improve his mood by any means. In a way, Kaladin was the reason for Adolin’s bad mood.
Adolin left the wall alone and his displeased gaze fell upon the, by now replaced and very much poison-free goblet.
Rubbing his temples and making a conscious effort to stop frowning, Adolin exhaled slowly. At this rate, there was a headache looming in his near future.
8 hours previously
After his father left Adolin went over to his bed, tired and exhausted by the day’s events. Stripping down to his underclothes, he folded his uniform and placed it neatly on top of the dresser, his boots on the floor next to it.
The first thing he saw when he pushed back the covers was a long, dark hair, contrasting with the pale cream colours of the bedlinen. He picked it up with a scowl and let it fall to the floor.
He remembered the bridgeboy groping the sheets and crawling around on the mattress like some kind of axehound trying to find a trail. He should’ve found it hilarious. If only it didn’t make him feel like he missed a step and stumbled. Been thrown off-balance.
Dismissing the thought, he placed a thick piece of cloth over his bedside lamp, a clear goblet filled with spheres, and slipped under the sheets. They rustled softly as Adolin turned, trying to find a comfortable position. He burrowed deeper under the covers, curling up slightly, more for the comfort than because of the slight chill in the night air.
The clean smell of a freshly made bed registered, but it was mixed with something else. A subtler yet more pronounced smell. Richer and darker than the gentleness of fresh sheets, but no less pleasant. More tangy and salty.
Blood rushed to his face. Cheeks burning, Adolin cursed under his breath and shoved the sheet away from his face with a jerky motion.
It didn’t help much and Adolin felt mortified at somehow still being able to smell it. Clinging to his senses like some sort of haunting phantom-smell.
Turning onto his back, Adolin stared up at the dark ceiling, willing his hear to slow its beat.
Storming bridgeboy!
Breathing in and out through his mouth and resolutely ignoring the urge to further investigate the smell, Adolin fell asleep.
1 hour previously
No light filtered into his room, as it had no windows. Just like the majority of the soulcast barracks and buildings. Sometimes the soulcaster would add windows later. It was harder for people to sneak in that way, but if you asked Adolin it was storming annoying was what it was.
As it was, Adolin didn’t think about soulcast buildings or the time of day at the moment. His mind was still foggy, thoughts flowing slow like a trickle of water making its slow way across a surface.
Comfortable warmth surrounded his body and his muscles were relaxed.
His breath quickened in anticipation as he let his hand slowly travel down his body.
It had been a while since he had let himself linger in bed for some drawn-out pleasure in the morning. Usually, he would either ignore his hardness or work it quick and efficiently, more like running a drill than pleasuring himself.
Today he had no morning duties to attend to. Since he was supposed to be ill from poison and all that.
Fingertips ran over the well-trained muscles of his torso, stroking up and down. Exploring his chest, teasing for a bit before he grew impatient. He let a finger dip inside his belly button, relishing the ticklish sensitivity of the skin there, before finally allowing his hand to reach inside his undergarments.
At the first touch, Adolin inhaled sharply through his mouth, eyes closing in delight at the sensation that coursed through his body. Grip loose and caressing, slightly squeezing as he neared the tip. He worked himself slow and languidly, not wanting to rush his release. He let his thumb rub over the slit, smearing his slowly gathering wetness over the head. A shudder ran through his body as he squeezed more firmly, still keeping up his steady and slow pace. The motion of his hand encountered less resistance now, the evidence of his rising pleasure spread over the length of it.
As he grew closer to completion he bit his lip, wanting to keep any sounds to himself. He turned his face, burying it into the pillow as he squeezed just right and breathed in sharply through his nose. And promptly let go of his member, as if burned, as a distinctively tangy and salty smell filtered through his lust induced daze.
Between heavy breathes, Adolin let out a few colourful curses.
There was no way his bedding still held the bridgeboy’s scent.
Face burning, he groaned in frustration as his member gave an insistent throb. Just a bit more. He contemplated shortly if he should just continue. His thoughts stubbornly kept on returning to the captain of the guard. Predictably following the principle of thinking about something the more you didn’t want to think about it.
The warmth suddenly seemed stifling and Adolin pulled the covers back, pushing them to the foot of the bed as if they had personally offended him. His soft and lazy mood had evaporated like water left over a fire for too long.
He got out of bed, feet hitting the soft carpet covering the stone floor. The undergarments were restraining his hardness uncomfortably, reminding him with an almost painful throb that it was still there. He grimaced.
He would have been happier if it had started to flag as soon as his thoughts had turned to the bridgeboy.
now
After having paced for a good twenty minutes, Adolin decided that Kaladin had ruined his mood long enough. That the man in question had no idea about it nor was at fault didn’t matter. Being angry at the bridgeboy felt better than cursing his brain for recalling the phantom-smell or questioning why it had brought forth the smell in the first place.
Forcing himself to relax, Adolin grabbed his fashion magazine and sat down in a chair. It wasn’t a new magazine or one he hadn’t looked at before but, being confined to his quarters, he had little else to do.
The drawings inside the magazine were coloured and showed detailed sketches of various shirts, trousers, jackets and even shoes. They were not necessarily drawn by masters of their craft but that didn’t mean they were bad. A lot of artists felt that drawing fashion wasn’t their calling, instead turning to make studies of plants and animals or travelling to different countries to capture the contrast to their own culture and landscape.
While Adolin had little knowledge about art, he could still tell that the drawings in the magazine were very well done. The articles of clothing depicted had a feeling of substance to it and it was easy to tell whether the fabric was heavy or thin. The people wearing the clothes were often drawn without faces but Adolin preferred it that way. He would feel a bit odd scrutinising pictures of people he didn’t know, especially in public.
The coloured pages of the magazine were filled with faceless people wearing mostly frilly clothing in all sorts of fabrics and colours. The page he currently looked at showed a light blue shirt that looked playful with the ruffles at the collar and the wrists, but also showed off the form of the body underneath. The shirt was a bit tight but not as much as to stretch.
It would surely be another one or two years at the least before the war ended and Adolin could lay his uniform aside and freely decide what he wanted to wear. It wasn’t that he disliked the uniform and it suited him rather well, or so he had been told on multiple occasions. But wearing the same outfit every day for so long was frustrating and annoying, especially since wearing the latest fashion was considered good form even in the Shattered Plains. But also, when going out to dinner or shopping with whomever he was courting at the moment. Most ladies complimented his looks in the uniform, but half of them later complained about him never wearing anything casual.
The pants in the drawing were a bit tighter than the military standard ones he was currently wearing and looked like they were made from thinner material, with the way they followed the outlines of the legs so closely. He was sure the ladies would appreciate it, if he wore one of those, especially with one of those shortened coats over it.
A knock on the door forced Adolin away from his appraisal of the clothes. The door opened after Adolin gave permission to enter and he could see a tray with food and something to drink before the person carrying the tray became visible.
His appetite all but evaporated and his stomach lurched. Retreating behind the cover of his magazine, Adolin hoped his face wasn’t as hot as it felt.
There was no reason to feel embarrassed, he told himself. But it did very little to let him forget about this morning. That was precisely the reason he didn’t think about anyone specific when pleasuring himself. Not that he had thought about the bridgeboy. Not really. That had been an unfortunate accident. The most unfortunate and tragic accident of his life but he would not let it make him feel miserable or awkward. He refused. Even if that decision didn’t necessarily make him feel better. But being a soldier, he had faced far more embarrassing situations. Namely when he was wearing Shardplate on the battlefield and had to relief himself.
“Why are you here this early?” Kaladin looked about as thrilled about being here as Adolin felt. At least they could agree on something.
“Dalinar gave the order for me to guard you until the threat is found.” Adolin felt a fool. His father had told him the very same thing last night. It also seemed reasonable that the bridgeboy would get his food. The less people knew about the ploy, the less likely it was people found out that Adolin was in perfect health.
“It’s not like you can stand guard all day and night.” As Kaladin set the tray with dishes on the table he glanced at the fashion magazine, then at Adolin and raised a brow. Adolin refused to react to the provocation.
“No, I can’t, but I can guard you twenty bells each day before I need some rest.”
Slightly perplexed, Adolin watched as Kaladin plucked a spoon from the tray and started eating a few spoonfuls of the two dishes that were placed in bowls as if that was a normal thing. One seemed to be the spicy porridge the kitchen prepared for Adolin most days. The other bowl held some pickled fruit.
“Don’t be ridiculous! Even if you have more stamina, you can’t tell me you can properly train with me or fight with that little rest.” He stared as long fingers plucked a piece of fresh bread and salted meat before putting it in his mouth and chewing slowly. “Are you now also my food taster or do you not get enough to eat, bridgeboy?”
Swallowing the breakfast, Kaladin looked up at him. “Since your last food taster is still recovering from food poisoning and I don’t know your new one, I thought it important to check again. And you’re right.” Adolin thought he had heard wrong. “It’ll be difficult to do my best with that little rest. I don’t know how well the Stormlight can compensate.” Kaladin frowned. Or rather, frowned even more than he did already. Kaladin seemed to ponder about the problem as he sniffed at the drink, Adolin guessed it was herbal tea by the smell, before taking a sip. He shoved the tray in Adolin’s direction, indicating that it was safe to eat.
As Adolin picked listlessly at his food with a second, clean spoon, and ate a bit of the porridge, he watched as the bridgeboy took a few steps towards the middle of the room before stopping and turning to stand guard at the door. He guessed the bridgeboy had wanted to search his rooms again before remembering that he had just done a thorough search last night. But Adolin could understand the sentiment. He would rather actively do something instead of standing around and waiting for something to happen as well. He understood the urge to act instead of standing still.
“You could always shorten your shift,” Adolin prompted, tired of waiting for Kaladin to come to the same conclusion. “Your men do a good job as guards.” Kaladin’s face brightened slightly at those last words.
Honestly, his father might have told him to guard Adolin personally at all times, but the bridgeboy couldn’t be taking that literal, could he? Judging by Kaladin’s plan of guarding him all day except for four bells to rest, he seemed to be taking it quite literal.
“Alright, but I’m still going to taste all your meals. I don’t trust the new food taster and I don’t want to risk my men getting poisoned.” Adolin hummed in agreement as he emptied the cup of tea. That meant Kaladin would be his guard throughout most of the day still, perhaps with a small pause after dinner as to not draw attention when Adolin made his way to the chasm. If the disguise arrived. Perhaps, with it, they would be able to go into the chasms earlier tomorrow.
“Rumour has already spread that you have fallen ill and people are gossiping whether it’s a normal illness or something else.” Adolin was pleased to hear that. Trust the rumour mills to spread whatever they heard far and wide in a matter of hours. A doctor they trusted to stay silent had been send into his quarters before his father had left last night. It was almost worth admiring how fast some people spread rumours.
“That’s great. Let’s just hope that keeps anyone from attempting to maim me for a while.”
He dismissed Kaladin, gaze lingering on his retreating form in consideration. With those long legs, the current fashionably slightly tighter trousers with their thinner fabric would work splendidly for the bridgeboy.
Notes:
Well, if we’re being honest Adolin’s bed probably would not have any of Kaladin’s smell, unless Adolin’s mother was an axehound, but I couldn’t resist writing this chapter. And since Adolin is still in denial about finding Kaldin attractive but I still couldn’t resist writing something like this you’ll just have to bear with me here. Direct any complaints you have towards Adolin, he’ll collect those and burn me on a stake with all the letters of complaints bc he isn’t so happy about the scenario I put him in.
Btw would you be interested in a chapter that has Kaladin’s POV? I’ve already written a bit ahead bc I won’t have as much time over the next few weeks, so the next two-three chapters are Adolin’s POV. I had actually planned of changing POV throughout each chapter, like the beginning of ch 1 indicates but I kinda just stayed in Adolin’s…
Hope you enjoyed the story so far! <3
Next week: the author is gonna make fun of some of her plotholes by pretending it’s the characters fault.
Please tell me if you encounter some bad grammar or other mistakes or give a shout if you would be interested in beta-reading the story!
Fandom: Stormlight Archives
Pairing: Kaladin/Adolin
Spoilers: For WoK and WoR
Also on AO3http://archiveofourown.org/works/13169070/chapters/30119982
Chapter 3
They fell silent and Adolin continued to watch the bridgeboy work. Although he was watching he wasn’t really watching out for Kaladin to do anything suspicious. Should he be more distrustful of the man? After all, he had always been suspicious of the man before. Bu that had been because he had been certain that the bridgeboy was hiding something and he had been right.
Adolin suddenly remembered Kaladin’s missing sleeve on the night of the assassination attempt.
“That night, the Shardblade cut you, didn’t it?”
Kaladin grunted in affirmation. “It did, but it turned out Stormlight can also heal the damage a Shardblade does.” Adolin raised a brow. It sounded like Kaladin hadn’t known about that fact prior to fighting the assassin either and still, he had faced a Shardbearer without hesitation. It assured Adolin to know that the bridgeboy’s bravery didn’t stem from his powers. Men that could only fight when they were confident that nothing would happen to them were men Adolin couldn’t trust fighting side by side with. Not that he wanted to fight side by side with this insufferable man. But it was good to know who he was working with a bit better.
Adolin eyed his father’s goblet. Kaladin had already checked it for any poisoned needles and tried a bit of the drink, but hadn’t found anything. Adolin doubted there was anything else placed in his father’s rooms. But better safe than sorry.
The whole attempt seemed half-hearted. Just like the attempt a few days ago, where his food-taster got to experience the effects of a mild Blackbane poisoning. Granted, placing a poisoned needle in his room was way more serious and required more planning, but the consequences of being caught or found out were far too severe for its goal to only be his temporary incapacity. Who would be stupid enough to risk their lives just to make him sick for a few days or weeks?
Adolin pinched the bridge of his nose. His thoughts kept returning to his opponent of the next duel. Parodin, a hot-headed young man who had challenged him a week ago. His family had been very displeased with his rash decision. It was no secret that Parodin wasn’t the most skilled at duels. His shards were basically already forfeited before the duel started. It would be no surprise if his family tried something to get the duel cancelled. Losing both plate and blade in a simple duel would be devastating.
“I didn’t find anything suspicious, but I need to check your quarters again.” Adolin was startled from his musings and frowned.
“You need to search my room again? You think someone somehow managed to get in past the guards to place more poisoned needles?” Well, the storming man’s paranoia prevented him from being poisoned so Adolin supposed he shouldn’t be complaining.
“I didn’t check everything yet. Perhaps they placed more than one needle in your room, I need to search your mattress and sheets. It would be easy to place one in any of them.”
Adolin heaved a sigh of long suffering. “Fine, let’s head back.” Of course the bridgeboy needed to search his bed.
They informed Hobber that the room seemed safe and left instructions to inform Dalinar about it when he returned from his meeting, before making their way back to Adolin’s own quarters.
The servants they encountered on the way didn’t seem overly interested in them, so Adolin guessed news hadn’t yet travelled far. Rumours would spread soon though, when questioning was done people would start gossiping. Kaladin eyed everyone they passed with suspicion, probably ready to stick his spear into them if they made a wrong move.
“Perhaps it would’ve been wiser to let the public assume the poisoning had been successful,” Kaladin began in a low voice when they reached an empty part of the corridor. “Maybe it would keep them from making another attempt to harm you since their goal doesn’t seem to be your death.” Adolin hadn’t thought about that but he couldn’t fault Kaladin’s reasoning.
“You know, that’s actually not a bad idea, bridgeboy. Your skull seems to contain a brain after all.” Kaladin’s scowl told him that his humour was not appreciated.
“Hopefully I’ll grow lucky and become deaf so I don’t have to listen to you any longer, princeling.” The grumbled reply made Adolin snort.
“News about it have not travelled yet, so we could still pretend that it was successful. Though that would make sneaking out to train in the chasms even more difficult.” Adolin waited until they reached his room and closed the door before continuing. “I’d have to talk with my father about it first but I think it would work. I also might have an idea what this whole thing is about.”
Kaladin stopped his determined stride towards Adolin’s bed and turned towards him. “You know who might be behind it?”
“Well, not for sure but you know about the duel this week?” Kaladin grunted in affirmation. “I keep thinking about Parodin’s family. They were really displeased with him wagering both his plate and blade. Apparently, he has a bit of a gambling problem. It could be they tried to convince him to step back from the challenge and he wouldn’t listen. So, they’re trying to get the duel cancelled by other means.”
Kaladin seemed to consider this as he went to the bed and started petting and squeezing the sheets. Had someone told him a few months ago that he’d be watching a darkeyed bridgeboy give his bedding an intense massage, he would have suspected them of being Wit in a disguise. He could see the muscles underneath the blue Kholin-uniform shift as the bridgeboy moved his hands across the sheets.
“It makes more sense than anything else I can think of at the moment,” Kaladin began as he finally laid the bedsheet aside. “But if they want to cancel the duel wouldn’t it be easier to poison Parodin so he can’t participate in the duel? Why risk repercussions by going after you? It would be safer for them to incapacitate their own family member.”
“Perhaps in hopes of pinning it on the Parshendi? They already killed my uncle and people believe they tried to kill Elhokar as well. Maybe people then would start to believe that my whole family are potential targets and I was just lucky enough to survive the poisoning attempt.”
Kaladin started taking off his boots and Adolin just watched in silent suffering as he climbed onto the mattress and started crawling around on it. He told himself that it was for his own safety. It didn’t make watching the bridgeboy search for poisoned needles on his hands and knees any more comfortable. Didn’t the storming man care what he looked like? He wondered if it would be better or worse if Kaladin faced his way.
“It’s certainly worth investigating.”
After what felt like a small eternity, Kaladin finally got up from the mattress and turned towards Adolin’s dresser, eyeing it in consideration. Adolin stepped forward before he realized what he was doing.
“You are not going to grope my undergarments!”
“Don’t worry, princeling, I won’t be groping or fondling your undergarments.” Adolin saw Kaladin’s lips twitching in amusement and, to his horror, he could feel his face growing hot. “I’m merely going to check them for poison.”
“Is that really necessary?” He barely suppressed the urge to go stand in front of his dresser to protect the virtue of his clothes from the bridgeboy.
“Well, you could always continue wearing your current clothes. And don’t pretend like I want to search them. But it would be a good place to hide needles.” Adolin shuddered at the idea of not changing his clothes. What would the women think of him when he started to smell? Though if they went with the plan of pretending that Adolin had been poisoned that would be no problem.
The first drawer was opened and Adolin watched in mortification as Kaladin started petting every piece of clothing thoroughly. Adolin really, really wanted a cup of wine. He looked around his room. At the blank walls and ceiling. He really should hang something on the walls. Perhaps a map of some sorts. Or drawings of the stances and military formations. Perhaps a picture of some dangerous animal, a chasmfiend or whitespine. Adolin didn’t really like either of those options because they felt like the expected things. He wanted a space where he could breathe and take a break from his duties and calling. He was interested in fashion but that was not something he could hang pictures of in his quarters.
Eventually, his gaze drifted back to Kaladin. As he was trying to ignore that the bridgeboy was currently examining every piece of underclothing he owned, he remembered Kaladin’s nickname.
“Stormblessed.” Kaladin grew slightly tense around the shoulders and Adolin knew that he was on the right track. “That isn’t a name you gave yourself but one your men gave you, isn’t it?” Kaladin grunted. Some men should just be born mute because they obviously didn’t want to hold a proper conversation and the ability to talk was wasted on them.
“Why did they give you that name? Because of your powers?”
Kaladin was quiet for a few moments, obviously considering how much he should tell Adolin.
“The nickname didn’t stem from what I can do precisely,” he seemed to hesitate a second before continuing. “But they do know about my abilities. I trust them not to tell anyone about it unless I give them permission.”
“Where did you get it then?” Adolin was even more curious now and chose to ignore the blatant reminder that Kaladin didn’t trust him not to tell anyone.
“Sadeas decided to have me strung up during a Highstorm to have the Stormfather judge me. Didn’t expect me to survive.” Kaladin shrugged.
“What?!” Adolin felt horrified just thinking about being left outside during a Highstorm. Of course, he knew that it was a punishment in some armies for the worst crimes but it wasn’t done in his father’s camp. He stared at the bridgeboy, who held one of Adolin’s smallclothes in hand, astounded that the man was still alive. Even knowing that Kaladin was far tougher and more resilient thanks to the stormlight he couldn’t help but stare, feeling a bit dumbstruck. Highstorms were strong enough to send boulders flying! It was no wonder the bridgemen seemed to revere the storming man.
“What did you do, sleep with his wife?” Adolin was only joking of course, but Kaladin still send him a look as if he had just accused him of something especially disgusting. Well, he guessed he kind of did. Sadeas’ wife was just as much of a snake as her husband. The two really did deserve each other.
“I tried to protect my men, but I made a mess of it.” Kaladin didn’t add anything more and Adolin didn’t ask.
Men trying to protect themselves and their own. It shouldn’t be something that could get you strung up during a Highstorm like some sort of example. If he could despise or hate Sadeas more he would.
Adolin imagined how satisfying it would be to tie Sadeas to a pole or string him up on a wall before a Highstorm. He wondered if it would be less gratifying than killing him with his blade since then he could witness Sadeas’ end himself. But the death through a Shardblade was too quick and painless for Adolin’s liking. Sadeas deserved to suffer.
“You could dress up as one of the servants. Put on a wig and use eye-drops to darken your eyes temporarily.” Adolin was startled from his dark musings.
“What in Kelek’s name are you talking about?”
“You said it would be even more difficult for you to sneak out to train if we pretended that you were poisoned.” Kaladin put Adolin’s underclothes back and shut the dresser. “Also, your undergarments are quite safe, princeling.” Adolin was going to throttle the bridgeboy.
“You want me to dress up as a servant?” Adolin felt incredulous. It didn’t matter that it was a good plan for sneaking out unnoticed. But the idea of him, the heir to the Kholin household, to dress up as a darkeyed servant was just too much. “Wait, there are eye-drops like that?”
“I,” Kaladin emphasized, “don’t want you to dress up. Nor do I want to train with you. It was merely a suggestion.” Adolin exhaled slowly. He would not get into another argument. He would not.
“Where would I even get a wig and those eye-drops you mentioned?” It would be even more suspicious if someone found out Adolin had acquired a disguise. It would just beg people to try and find out what he was up to.
“I could probably get them for you by tomorrow afternoon,” Kaladin said, only hesitating slightly.
Adolin narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t say I was agreeing to the plan.”
“Well, I’ve yet to hear you come up with a better one, princeling.” The storming bridgeboy actually sounded exasperated. As if he was speaking to some stubborn kid. Adolin scowled. Kaladin scowled back. “I was only trying to help. For all I care you can spend the time until the duel locked up in your room looking at your fashion magazines!”
Adolin threw his hands up. “Fine! Then try and get the things, bridgeboy!” He frowned, realizing something. “How are you going to do that without attracting attention yourself?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“Yes, it is. People are going to talk if the captain of the Kholin guard buys drops to darken one’s eyes.”
Kaladin seemed to consider his point, before obviously deciding that Adolin was right, no matter how little he liked the fact.
“One of my men is a Herdazian.” Was all Kaladin said. As if that explained anything to Adolin.
“And?” he prodded.
“He has like a hundred cousins throughout all the camps. Honestly, I doubt they’re all related but they’re quite resourceful.” As he was talking, Kaladin began to look around the room with a thoughtful frown. Probably trying to find anything else he should or could examine for poison.
The fact surprised Adolin. He’d never thought much about any of the Herdazians he saw working around the camp. They all looked quite similar in his opinion, kind of like Parshmen. Huh. They’d make great spies.
“Alright, then I’ll leave that task to you.” Kaladin gave a non-committal grunt. “If you’re done checking my room, leave a message for my father. Say he should come here when his meeting ends.” The bridgeboy looked at him with a mix of alarm and anger.
“Not because of that.” He could guess what Kaladin was worried about.
Perhaps telling his father about Kaladin’s powers would be better, the right thing to do. But Adolin had already given his word that he would only tell Dalinar if Kaladin gave him a reason to or consented to it. Gaining Kaladin’s trust bit by frustrating bit was more important at the moment.
The uncertainty that flickered over Kaladin’s face, before being replaced by his usual stoic face, made Adolin sigh. Getting the bridgeboy to trust him enough to tell him everything he knew would be a test to Adolin’s patience. And patience wasn’t his strong point when it came to the man.
“Have I given you any reason to doubt my honour?” Perhaps he should offer Kaladin to remain until his father returned. But Adolin really needed some time to think about everything that happened.
Kaladin shifted his weigh, uncomfortable and uncertain but not wanting to show it. “No.”
“What good would it do me to lie to you now then?” The bridgeboy seemed to have a higher opinion of chulls than of Adolin.
After mulling what Adolin had just said over he finally nodded and levelled Adolin with a look he couldn’t quite place.
“Alright.” Kaladin made his way to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Two of my men will be stationed outside your door throughout the whole night.”
Adolin nodded farewell and sat down heavily in his chair as soon as the door closed behind the bridgeboy. He ran a hand through his messy black and blond hair and leaned back, sighing softly as his muscles began to relax. He hadn’t noticed how tense he had been. The tenseness probably stemmed from Kaladin always seeming to be on edge, always ready for some danger to spring forth from the shadows and always suspicious of everyone around he didn’t know not to be a threat.
Staring blankly at the wall, Adolin remembered the moment the bridgeboy had seemed to breathe in the stormlight and the parts of his skin visible to Adolin had started to glow. In his shocked and then angry state, he hadn’t been able to fully appreciate how fascinating it had looked. Aside from the Assassin in White, he had never seen anything like it. And back then he had been too busy trying not to die to pay attention to it.
The only similar thing Adolin could think of was shardplate. The way the stormlight streamed from the cracks in the armour and the wisps of it twisting and curling before vanishing. In a way, he supposed it was some sort of armour for Kaladin. Protecting him from harm and making him more resilient, much like Shardplate did. But it was also a weapon which made the bridgeboy even more deadly and capable than Adolin already knew him to be.
He remembered one of the shash on Kaladin’s forehead.
Dangerous.
He considered the bridgeboy’s panic and worry over others, especially lighteyes, finding out. They’d probably fear him, thinking about the Assassin in White and his rumoured powers. Kaladin hadn’t saved any of their lives personally. They didn’t know him. They would just see a darkeyes in a high-ranking position with powers they didn’t understand. The shash saying dangerous on Kaladin’s forehead a fitting label for them. It would be easy to convince other people in power and the public of the bridgeboy being a threat that needed being taken care of if they didn’t find a way to secure the power for themselves.
Adolin sighed. It would not come to that, he reminded himself. Even if he had to tell his father about it, Dalinar wouldn’t pass the information on. Once again, he wondered what it had been Kaladin had told Dalinar. And which of his father’s friends it had been about.
The door opening suddenly startled Adolin out of his seat, a small burst of adrenalin accompanying his surprise. He had dozed off. His hand was already outstretched, ready and waiting for his Shardblade to form from mist.
Dalinar strode in, steps hurried, a serious and worried expression marking his face. Adolin let his hand fall to his side, his stance turning relaxed as he inclined his head in greeting.
“Are you alright?” Dalinar’s eyes roamed over his body, ascertaining that there were no visible injuries.
“I am alright, father. The- “ he stopped himself from saying ‘bridgeboy’, his father did not like it. “Captain Kaladin noticed something was wrong before I had any chance to be in danger.” Dalinar nodded, apparently already having received a short report about the incident on the way here.
“I was told there was poison placed in your goblet.”
“Yes,” Adolin gestured towards the table. “Apparently whatever poison was used reacted with the metal and that was how it was noticed in the first place.”
His father’s already serious face darkened further, the lines of his face becoming more pronounced. “I do not know why they would try so hard to harm you instead of me, but-“
Adolin cut in before his father could continue with whatever monologue was to come. “Father, I don’t think this is about the move against the other Highprinces or about politics at all.” Well, that came out far more confident than he felt about his suspicion.
Dalinar levelled him with a sharp gaze.
“Whatever poison is placed on that needle,” he gestured towards the table once more for emphasis. “It would not be enough to kill me unless I already was sick or weakened, even If it was Blackbane or Backbreaker Powder.”
“How can you be certain of that?”
“Captain Kaladin was trained to become a surgeon before joining the army, as you probably already know, he examined the needle and made an educated guess.” It wasn’t a complete lie. The bridgeboy had examined it by accidentally poisoning himself with it.
When Dalinar only nodded, obviously trusting the bridgeboy’s judgement, Adolin went on and told him about his suspicions regarding Parodin’s family having something to do with it.
“I don’t know, son,” Dalinar began after Adolin had finished. “It is certainly a possibility and I will look into it, as I agree with the attempts so far not seeming to have your death as their goal.”
“We could just pretend that the poison was discovered too late and that I’m seriously sick and weakened by it. Until I make a miraculous recovery on the day of the duel.” Hiding from danger like a coward usually wasn’t Adolin’s style but it would be stupid to invite any more attempts on his health so close to the duel. Gaining more shards was too important. If he was right there should be no more incidents like the last two after he beat Parodin and won the shards.
“That is a good idea. Even if the goal isn’t to kill you, if we can minimize the danger, we should do so. However,” Dalinar went on. “I still want the captain to guard you personally until we know who is behind it.” Those last words were spoken with finality and left no room for argument. His father knew very well that Adolin didn’t have much love for the bridgeboy. Little did Dalinar know that tonight Adolin had no intent to argue with his father about having to spend time with Kaladin.
Notes:
well, that chapter turned out way longer than planned…hope you enjoyed it, guys!
I apologize if it got a bit cracky, I have a hard time holding myself back from turning to total hilarity, especially since my last fics were all crack.
The image of Kaladin petting Adolin’s undergarments with a serious and concentrated expression was too amusing an idea not to put in here. Tag it as “shit I think about while at uni instead of concentrating on the lecture about victorian novels”. Also, let me tell you how satisfying it is to write trashy fanfic while your prof talks about some of the greatest books of the victorian era. It’s like writing ‘fuck you’ in calligraphy.
Anyway, the next chapter should be done by the end of the week and might or might not involve me having a bit of fun with Adolin. Or should I say tormenting him a bit. He’s definietly very displeased with all of it and it’s the bridgeboy’s fault.
Fandom: Stormlight Archives
Pairing: Kaladin/Adolin
Spoilers: For WoK and WoR
Also on AO3http://archiveofourown.org/works/13169070/chapters/30119982
Chapter 2
“Why didn’t you?” Adolin ground out between clenched teeth. He really wanted to drive his fist into Kaladin’s nose again. Would he have used his full strength if Dalinar had been close to death with no real chance of turning the fight into his favour? But hadn’t that been the case all along? His father’s survival had been as much luck as skill. That and the fact that the assassin hadn’t seen them as threats and not used his full strength. Adolin didn’t want to think about what would have happened if the Assassin in White had attacked them using his full strength, but the ‘what if’s’ were like a loud noise in a cave, echoing for ours whenever he thought about it. He doubted he or his father would still be here in that case. He had been helplessly stuck onto the ceiling. He wondered what would’ve been worse, having to watch his father die, unable to help, or knowing Dalinar had to watch is son die at the hands of the man that already robbed him of his brother.
Adolin’s fury was matched by a determination to do anything to prevent a catastrophe like that from happening, should the Assassin in White return.
He could see Kaladin’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, he opened his mouth and closed it again without speaking. Adolin’s scow deepened.
“I am afraid of people finding out about what I can do.”
“So afraid that you couldn’t do your job, what you promised to do, to the best of your abilities?! You might have saved our lives by pushing the assassin along with yourself out the window but if my father hadn’t caught the blade beforehand, instead of letting it split his skull in half there would be nothing left for you to protect because you chose to hide your abilities!” Adolin knew he was raising his voice and possibly alerting any nearby guards or servants but he couldn’t care about that at the moment. He couldn’t care about anything else over the seething anger making his head pound in rhythm with his heart.
Kaladin opened his mouth as if to reply. Probably to deny that he wouldn’t have let Dalinar die, but Adolin didn’t let him speak.
“I don’t care whether or not you want people to know, but you should have told my father about it. You say you won’t be as helpless again should the assassin return? But if you can’t bring yourself to trust my father with this,” Adolin wanted to gesticulate at Kaladin’s now slightly less glowing form and perhaps punch him again for good measure but found his hands still firmly stuck to the ground. “If you can’t bring yourself to tell my father about it, how can I believe you when you say you’ll do your best to protect him?”
“I want to trust him, I want to trust and believe in Dalinar fully, but I can’t let believe and hope guide me. Not again.” For the first time since Adolin met the storming man, Kaladin seemed his age. Younger than Adolin. A young man with brands on his forehead that were put there against his choice. Scarred by the cruelty and corruption of the world. He seemed fragile. It made Adolin feel uncomfortable. His anger was sniffed out like a candle in a Highstorm and he cleared his throat in a useless attempt to dispel some of that uneasiness.
“My father sacrificed his Shardblade for you and your men, he made you a captain! What more do you expect him to do?” He wished the glow around Kaladin’s body was stronger so he didn’t have to see the pain in his face or so he could pretend it was an illusion cast by the Stormlight. He was glad when a glimmer of anger emerged onto the bridgeboy’s face at his words.
“You lighteyes have taken everything from me! This,” Kaladin gestured towards his chest, “is the only thing I have left. I can’t let it be taken as well! I can’t stomach another betrayal.”
“My father won’t betray you!” Now that he no longer wanted to choke the life out of the storming man, he felt exasperated at Kaladin’s words. Dalinar was very likely the most honourable man in all of Alethkar. How could the bridgeboy not trust him after what his father had sacrificed to Sadeas after the betrayal? What man would’ve given a Shard to his enemy?
When he finally spoke, Kaladin’s voice sounded raw, as if he had a hard time saying the words aloud.
“I told Dalinar something. I was convinced to trust him with something that happened. But he didn’t want to know about it. Didn’t want to hear anything bad about another lighteyes. It was my mistake. I was well aware they knew each other. I knew they were friends. I should really know better by now.” Kaladin’s bitter smile looked more like a wavering grimace.
Adolin wanted to deny it. Wanted to stand up for his father. But he couldn’t do so with a clear conscience. Would his father believe a darkeyes that saved his life; a person he promoted to captain without knowing him for even a month or a friend of the same rank, a friend Dalinar had known for far longer? Adolin knew what the answer would be for himself.
He didn’t know what he could possibly say to that. Accuse the birdgeboy of lying? No, this was probably the longest they had ever talked and Adolin felt like Kaladin was telling the truth. Or at least what he felt was the truth. Adolin wasn’t willing to just blindly trust whatever he said. He wanted to ask what the bridgeboy had told Dalinar but it would be a useless question. They didn’t like each other, let alone trust, so what reason should Kaladin have to tell Adolin about it? He probably already regretted saying what he did. Maybe Adolin could somehow ask his father about it without appearing too suspicious
Adolin closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. He sighed. His evening was supposed to be him relaxing with a glass of yellow wine, not have an emotionally exhausting conversation with the bridgeboy while nearly straddling him.
“Alright. Let’s just assume you had a good reason not to tell anyone about it, not even my father. Or do the best you could,” Adolin took a steadying breath because that part was what bothered him the most and was almost enough to send him tumbling into another rage. “Even though the Stormfather knows how irresponsible that was! What now? I know what you can do.” The bridgeboy’s expression turned a mix between worried and angry and Adolin hastened to add, “I’m not going to tell my father or anyone, unless you give agree or give me reason to. But, I have conditions. I want you to tell and show me everything you can do and know. And I want you to train with me. If the Assassin in White returns or someone else with powers like that comes along I need to be able to fight.”
Kaladin was the perfect training resource for this. And the only real solution for Adolin to learn how to fight against people with the power of Stormlight. He couldn’t risk Kaladin running away or something like that if he told his father about what he found out. There was no doubt that, if Kaladin felt threatened by the truth coming out he could just vanish. Though Adolin doubted the bridgeboy would leave his men behind. But he still could not risk it. He needed Kaladin’s cooperation. Of course, should the bridgeboy give him reason to doubt his loyalty that was a different story entirely.
“Alright.” Was the only thing Kaladin replied, apparently remembering his grim and brooding nature. His customary scowl was already back in place. At least Adolin now had seen proof that the bridgeboy hadn’t been born with that perpetual frown.
“But first, you are going to free my hands from whatever you did to them.” Kaladin looked almost amused hearing that demand, lips twitching, before seaming to realize the position they were in. Storms! How could the bridgeboy have been unaware of it until now!
Kaladin inhaled sharply and Adolin watched as Stormlight drifted from his hands to Kaladin’s mouth. It looked fascinating. If he hadn’t been in such a ridiculous position, Adolin would ‘ve remained rooted to the spot for a few moments longer just to watch the Stormlight drift from Kaladin’s mouth. As it was he hurried to scramble up, resisting the urge to punch the storming man again.
Adolin flexed his fingers, relieved to finally be able to move them again. He ran a hand through his hair and moved toward the table with the wine because he really wanted something to drink before remembering the goblet and the poison that led to this revelation in the first place. Adolin frowned. He had completely forgotten about the poison.
“Are you alright, bridgeboy?” It was probably a useless question but it didn’t hurt to ask. Kaladin seemed startled by it.
“I didn’t know you cared, princeling.” Adolin scowled. Look what came out of him trying to be nice. Kaladin scowled back. The storming man seemed to be alright if he could be this insufferable again already.
“Forget it! If you die from poisoning I’ll just tell them to chuck your corpse down a chasm, your stench alone is going to keep any Chasmfiends away from the area.”
Adolin took a seat and gesticulated towards the other chair, motioning for Kaladin to sit down. Kaladin seemed to hesitate for a moment before getting up from the floor and sitting down almost opposite of Adolin. As they scowled at each other, Adolin asked himself how in the world the two of them could possibly work together. Adolin didn’t know how long they had been scowling at each other before Kaladin looked at the goblet with the poisoned needle and started speaking.
“Who would poison you? Dalinar is more of a problem to the other Highprinces.” Kaladin’s eyes widened in sudden realization, he jumped out of the seat. “Someone could’ve placed poison in Dalinar’s room as well!”
Adolin stood up, growing worried as well, although it was unlikely his father had even been to his rooms yet.
“My father should not be back in his quarters yet, he has a meeting that will probably go well into the night.” The two looked at each other before hurrying out of Adolin’s room to check Dalinar’s quarters. They passed Teft and Drehy and Kaladin stopped shortly to inform them about the current situation and left orders to question anyone who had access to Adolin’s room.
“The poison used wasn’t lethal, although the small amount that entered my bloodstream had a very strong effect in a short amount of time,” Kaladin began as they rounded a corner. “I don’t think it was meant to kill, merely incapacitate.”
“How would you know?”
“I was trained to become a surgeon before I ended up in the army. Anyway, the amount of substance that can be put on a needle that size is miniscule. Even Blackbane or Backbreaker Powder couldn’t manage to kill a grown man, a child maybe, yes. Whoever planned this had to have known it wouldn’t be enough to kill you, only make you seriously sick for some time. Maybe if you suffered some illness or your body was weakened enough. My guess is that it was a Backbreaker Powder concentrate because of the fast and strong effects it showed. It would’ve paralyzed my body, made breathing hard and induced unconsciousness in a matter of minutes with a small possibility of choking to death if left lying on my back.” Adolin nodded, he knew about those poisons but not much beside the fact that they were lethal. Somehow, he wasn’t that surprised to hear that Kaladin had been trained as a surgeon. It fit the man and his overprotective nature.
“This attempt to harm you was better than the one a few days ago, but it’s purpose still seems to mainly be to incapacitate you.” Adolin agreed. The attempt a few days ago, when his food had been laced with a mild poison hadn’t even come as close to succeeding as this one. Apparently, the people trying to harm him and perhaps other members of his family hadn’t known that he had a food-taster.
Who would be stupid enough to make an attempt on his life with next to no possibility of it being successful? It made sense for the goal to have been merely to incapacitate him.
They reached his father’s rooms where another bridgeman, Hobber, guarded the door. Adolin had made a habit of learning all their names, he wanted to know who was tasked with protecting him and his family.
“Has anyone been in or out of this room since your start of the shift?”
“No, Sir!” Kaladin briefed Hobber on the situation and then both he and Adolin entered the room, closing the door behind them.
Instead of starting to look for any threats though, Kaladin started taking spheres out of the lamps. Adolin stared open mouthed at the storming man, utterly baffled.
“What in Kelek’s name are you doing?”
“I need to replace my spheres, they’re all dun.” Kaladin took out his pouch and put his dun spheres in the lamp. Adolin felt stupid for not realizing, he had just learned the bridgeboy could breathe in Stormlight after all. He started to walk deeper into the room intending to start looking for threats.
Kaladin grabbed him by the arm, keeping him in place. Adolin looked at him in annoyance.
“Let me look. You should not touch anything. It doesn’t matter if I get poisoned as long as I have spheres but it’s going to be a problem if you get poisoned.”
“Fine.” Adolin had to agree with Kaladin but it was frustrating not being able to do anything. He leaned against the wall and once more watched the bridgeboy carefully comb a room. Only this time he wasn’t annoyed at his thoroughness.
“We are still going to have a talk.” Adolin started after a while. Kaladin only grunted and continued inspecting everything, including the bedsheets.
“How long have you had those powers?”
“I’m not sure, but I became aware of them during my time in Sadeas’ camp.”
“How exactly does it work? You just take the Stormlight from the spheres and then you can do stuff? Can I learn to do it?”
Kaladin stopped inspecting the bed and looked at him, an unreadable expression on his face. After a moment, he turned his head back and resumed his task.
“I don’t think you can simply learn it, I’m not exactly sure how I works either.” Adolin knew that wasn’t the whole truth but he let it slide for now. Getting some answers was enough for now. Even if it bothered him it was better than nothing and he didn’t want Kaladin to close up now that the storming man talked.
“And what can you do with it?”
“It enhances my strength and speed,” Kaladin started to explain obligingly. “It makes wounds heal faster and poison or alcohol rather useless. I can make things stick together.” Kaladin looked up at him and flashed him the tiniest of grins. “As you got to experience first-hand.” It caught Adolin completely off guard. He was glad Kaladin had already averted his gaze again or he would’ve witnessed the Kholin-heir staring stupidly.
“If you do something like that again I swear you’re going to regret it, bridgeboy.” Adolin finally snorted.
“I can also change the direction of gravitation of an object or person,” Kaladin went on, not reacting to Adolin’s comment. “Though I only learned that was possible when I saw the Assassin in White do it. I’ve practiced but I’m not very good yet.” He sounded frustrated. “You said you want to practice with me, when do you want to start? I train down in the chasms.”
“Tomorrow, in the later evening, so I don’t stand out so much. I can’t have people talk about me going down there with a bridgeman if I don’t have a good reason.” Going to train in the dark, damp chasms with the bridgeboy sounded about as fun as spending the afternoon in a fresh pile of Chull dung. Adolin wondered if it was a worrisome sign that he felt excited about it.
Notes:
How do you think my story-scapegoat aka the attempt to poison Adolin is gonna end? Who did it? Was it an old assassin, doing his last job before retirement but confusing the targets due to dementia? Was it Adolin himself, trying to get Kaladin’s attention or one of Adolin’s old girlfriends trying to get revenge because Adolin looked at differrent pairs of boobs instead of her own? Who knows.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter!
PS: Stay tuned for Kaladi groping Adolin’s undergarments in chapter 3, though not in the way you might hope
Jasnah: Do you have any plans today?
Adolin: Yes actually.
Jasnah: That AREN’T just staring mournfully at Kaladin and sighing dramatically?
Adolin:
Adolin: no…
Teft: Are you in love with Adolin?
Kaladin, sweating: … no
Teft: Then why do you draw ‘A+K’ in hearts everywhere?
Kaladin: It stands for Anguish and Kaladin because we go together so well.
Adolin: If you were a vegetable, you’d be a carrot. Because you’re tall, delicious, and good for my eyes.
Kaladin: If I were a vegetable, I’d want you to pull the plug and let me die.
Adolin: This is to the loser who dared tell me that being gay isn’t a choice.
Adolin: You’re right.
Adolin: Being gay isn’t a choice.
Adolin, gesturing at Kaladin: IT’S A COMPETITION AND I’M WINNING! HAVE YOU SEEN MY BOYFRIEND?!
Adolin: Oh look, we’re standing under mistletoe!
Kaladin, glancing up: That’s not mistletoe Adolin, that’s a leaf.
*Later*
Kaladin, sitting bolt upright at 4am: Oh my god! He was flirting with me!
