Archive of Our Own ^beta

Adolin smirked in amusement, watching Kaladin struggle with his mount. Easily guiding Sureblood with a light touch rein to neck, he followed at a walk.

"Having some trouble there, Bridgeboy?"

"Storm off!"

Relaxing in his saddle, Adolin watched with mild curiosity as Kaladin wrestled with Dreamstorm. The mare was bunny hopping, sideways, along behind the rest of the hunting party. Try as he might, the former bridgeman could not straighten her out. He had gotten to be a decent rider, Adolin admitted that much, but there was a big difference between riding a well-trained mount, and riding a green one. Adolin was starting to worry that maybe Kaladin wasn't ready for this.

Tapping his helmet, which was strapped to his saddle's cantle, he leaned towards Kaladin. "Sure you don't want a hand? Or at least a helmet? We make all the kids wear them," he remarked casually, heeling Sureblood into a faster walk to draw alongside the other horse.

"I can...handle it," Kaladin ground out, hands fisting the reins tightly. With each jerk of Dreamstorm's head, he was pulled partway from the saddle, only to flop back down each time he reined her back in. It was a never ending battle.

"Sure looks like you can. Well, I'll be up ahead,” he commented, clucking to Sureblood to get the stallion to trot.

"Storm you, Princeling! Get back here!"

Adolin smirked to himself, turning back. "Did you say something?" And damn, Kaladin looked good, face slightly flushed with exertion and a trickle of sweat running down his temple.

"It's your...storming fault...I have to ride this thing! So you can stay—!"

Well, that was true. It had been his idea that they start getting Dreamstorm out more. The mare was never used for more than short scouting missions, and never ones that saw action. So, Dalinar and Jenet had agreed to take her along today for experience.

"You're the one who volunteered to ride her," he retorted, shrugging. "I would have done it."

"It's my job...to keep you alive," Kaladin muttered. "Riding this thing...is not conducive to...that."

Adolin laughed. How touching. "No, but I'm a better rider. Now, turn her nose in to your knee."

He was rewarded with a glare, but Kaladin did as instructed, tightening the left rein and tugging Dreamstorm's nose to his knee. The mare stopped her hopping, turning a tight circle instead.

"Better?"

Begrudgingly, Kaladin asked, "Any other pointers?"

"Do that whenever she fights you too much. They go where their heads go. Usually."

"Great, we'll be walking circles all the way there."

"I hope you have a good stomach." Kaladin sent him an annoyed look, so he continued, "You will get dizzy."

Adolin left Kaladin to wrestle with his mount for a moment, glancing ahead to check on the rest of the hunting party. His father was leading it, mounted on Gallant, and four Bridge Four members heeled him, on mounts of their own, as an honoured guard. The king rode at his side, mounted on a bay stallion.

Behind them rode two score of guardsmen, all heavily armoured. Word had reached Dalinar's ears of a whitespine nest that was tormenting passersby to the area. Unable to leave the matter alone, he had ordered a dispatch to deal with the problem.

Then the king had gotten wind of the situation, and insisted on seeing the monsters for himself. So here they were, with far more troops than were strictly necessary; nearly fifty people, to deal with one whitespine and her offspring. Adolin himself had also pressed to come on this mission, arguing that a Shardbearer would be useful against the tearing might of a whitespine. Two full bearers was probably overkill, but better safe than sorry, especially when one bearer was Elhokar.

Adolin's father certainly did not seem bothered by the large group as he rode up front with the king, the two conferring quietly. Adolin himself had every right to ride with them, but he preferred to stay with the captain. He was more entertaining.
Adolin was also coming to realise how much he both enjoyed Kaladin’s company, and enjoyed looking at the man. Kaladin was one of the finest fighters he had ever met, and he was honourable, both of which were reasons enough to like the man. The fact that he was enjoyable to look at was only an added bonus.
...perhaps Adolin should have felt some guilt over how he felt about Kaladin, but he really did not.

"Storming horse. My own two feet are just storming fine..."

Adolin allowed himself a small, amused smile. Maybe, in hindsight, this was not the best first field mission for the mare. Oh well. He trusted that Kaladin could handle himself.

"You guys okay back there?" one of the bridgemen asked, reining back to check on them.

"Just...fine. Storming...fine."

"I'll keep an eye on him," Adolin called, no lack of amusement in his tone.

"You don't have to do that, Brightlord—"

"But I will," he said, turning back to Kaladin. By some miracle, the guard captain was still in the saddle.

The bridgeman hesitated a moment longer before nodding and riding to catch up with the rest of the group.

The day was hot and humid with the onset of summer. Rockbuds retreated quickly as they passed by, and grass whipped back underground. The sun burned down, roasting Adolin in his plate. Infuriatingly, Kaladin barely seemed fazed by the heat, despite the unending battle with his mount. Or perhaps because of; he had other things on his mind.

An hour later, Adolin was still roasting, but a sweat-soaked Dreamstorm was finally walking normally. Her roan coat was blacker than usual, a lather of white foam built up on her shoulders.

Adolin sent him a proud smile. "I don't know if you got her under control, or just exhausted her..." The glare he received was not amused, but Adolin just met it with a grin.

"Leave it, Princeling. And come on. I can't protect your father and the king from back here, and I can't leave you back here alone."

With a sigh, he rode up beside the captain. "You know, you'd make more friends if you weren't constantly ordering people around." Especially those above his station.
...though there was something almost...charming about the attitude.

"I have friends."

"The rocks in your head don't count." Kaladin glared at him. "Oh come on, that was funny!"

For a moment, Kaladin seemed to be staring at air, then the former bridgeman shook his head. "Spoiled princeling..."

Adolin chose to take that as a compliment.

"Come on, we're falling behind." Kaladin muttered, nudging Dreamstorm into a trot. The mare chose that exact moment to bolt.

Adolin froze, dumbfounded, as the blue roan galloped away from the party, sending up a trail of dust in her wake with one frantic guardsman clinging to the pommel of the saddle. Ahead of them, the party halted, turning to look. Adolin reacted then, giving Sureblood his head and galloping after the runaway. Behind him, Dalinar shouted something, but Adolin didn't look back.

Dreamstorm had gotten a head start, and she was fast, but he was confident that Sureblood could catch her. His stallion has the advantage of height. However, he quickly realised, Dreamstorm had the advantage of not carrying a man in Shardplate. They were gaining ground, but not quickly.

"Adolin!" he slowed, glancing back as his father galloped up on Gallant. A quick gesture drew his attention to the hunting party, which was suddenly hot on the tail of a small beast—small being relative. An adult whitespine reached the chest of a grown man. A young one still easily reached his waist.

Adolin nodded his understanding, pointing to Kaladin. Dalinar hesitated only a moment before nodding, turning back to charge after the hunting party. If the young one was here, the mother might be nearby too. They would track her down while he rescued Kaladin.

He turned his attention back to the chase at hand. Brief though the exchange had been, Dreamstorm had gained noticeable ground. Leaning low over his Ryshadium's neck, Adolin really gave Sureblood his head, revelling at the way the stallion surged forward, legs eating ground in massive strides.

Dreamstorm began to slow as Kaladin got her back under control, veering to the right as he tried to force her into a circle. It wasn't working, at least not as intended, but the mare was slowing slightly as she struggled against the bit.

Relieved, he began to slow Sureblood, glad to see Kaladin had gotten her under control. Bridgeboy wasn't the worst rider ever. Really. He wasn't.

Second, maybe.

Dreamstorm screamed, a sound of anger and pain. Sureblood stopped dead, head up and ears pricked as he searched for the threat. Adolin only had a moment to be thankful that he was on an intelligent Rhyshadium, and not a normal horse, before Dreamstorm had bolted again.

The mare's flight was not smooth like before, as she veered frantically side to side. Adolin didn't know what had happened, but he urged Sureblood on, and after only a moment's further hesitation, the stallion bolted after them.

As he closed on them, an easier task now that their flight was so erratic, Adolin realised that Kaladin had very little control over the mare's head—had his rein snapped? That seemed plausible. Unfortunate, but plausible.

"Kaladin!"

"Busy...here!"

He got alongside them on the left. Now that he was this close, he could clearly see that both of the reins were flapping uselessly. The bit had snapped, leaving Kaladin with no control over the mare, and Adolin with little to grab on to.

He didn't care. Adolin reached out, holding out a hand to Kaladin. If it wasn't for Dreamstorm's erratic flight, he might have tried to herd her in, but with how she was running, they were as likely to collide as it was to succeed. So he reached for the captain, gesturing frantically. Such a move was foolish and daring, but in shardplate, Adolin was not too worried—at least, not for himself.

Blessedly, the stubborn fool reached back, catching Adolin's gauntlet-covered hand. Guiding Sureblood closer, he went to pull Kaladin onto Sureblood when Dreamstorm bolted right.

Swearing, Adolin let go. In plate, he would have yanked Kaladin clean off the horse if he hadn't, and even despite the quick release, the captain was tugged half off the mare. Then Dreamstorm started bucking.

Unsurprisingly, Kaladin tumbled off the side, hitting the ground hard on his left arm. A painful crack accompanied the thump of Kaladin hitting the ground, and Adolin reined in sharply. Dreamstorm forgotten, he all but threw himself off Sureblood, letting the plate absorb the landing as he hurried to bridgeboy's side.

"Kaladin! Bridgeboy!" he yelled, stumbling to his knees beside the fallen man.

To his relief, Kaladin groaned. The crack he had heard probably hadn't been his thick skull, then. Reaching out a hand, he hesitated to touch Kaladin. Thankfully, the decision to act was taken from him when the man rolled over, letting out a pain grunt as he did so.

"...good to see even a rock can't break your thick skull," he tried weakly.

"Wish I could...say the same for my arm," Kaladin grunted. "Is there any disfigurement?"

"Huh?"

"My arm!" Kaladin gasped, then muttered something that sounded suspiciously like storming, useless princelings.

"Oh, uh..." He took a moment to look the man over. Uniform torn and dirtied, a bleeding cut on his cheek...and obvious discomfort in his left arm, but nothing blatantly out of place. "You look to be in one piece."

Kaladin grunted. "Don't...feel it. Storms, my arm hurts," he grumbled, sitting up. Adolin stayed silent while the man did a quick survey of himself. He had some mandatory first aid training, but nothing like bridgeboy's.

"Bruises and cuts, mostly," Kaladin finally assessed. "Nothing serious except my arm. Spiral fracture of the humerous, I think."

"Can you move your fingers?"

The look Kaladin sent him could have curdled milk, and Adolin found himself chuckling. "Sorry, sorry. Couldn't resist."

"Make yourself useful and help me splint it, Princeling," Kaladin muttered.

"Fine, fine." Reaching over, he helped remove Kaladin's jacket and roll up his sleeve. At Kaladin's direction, he slit the sleeve along the shoulder seam and pulled it off the arm. The bruising was already starting, and globs of blood were clotting on the elbow.

Working under Kaladin's surprisingly knowledgeable direction, he quickly fetched and whittled a stick to use as a splint. Then he began shredding the sleeve to use as a wrap.

"Adolin."

"I told you, I'm getting them as even as I can," he muttered, annoyed.

"Adolin, does that look like a highstorm to you?"

That got his attention. Swearing, he tossed the knife down. "Gimme that arm, Bridgeboy. This'll have to be enough."

They hurriedly got the arm bound, and then Adolin stood, calling for his horse. Sureblood had wandered a short ways away, stalking grass. The white stallion trotted over, glancing east with a snort as he did so. Now that he was really looking, Adolin noted that Sureblood looked tense, too. He knew what was coming.

"I need you to carry us both," he said quietly to the stallion. Dreamstorm was long gone, and even if she hadn't been, he wouldn't have trusted that mare.

"...you want me to ride that beast?"

"You can stay out here, if you want."

Kaladin grunted, and Adolin took that as agreement.

Glancing to the horizon, where the band of darkness was growing, well...darker, Adolin swore. "Enough wasting time. Come here."

Kaladin hesitated, dragging himself over with some reluctance. "...he's...storming huge."

Adolin rolled his eyes, though Kaladin did have a point. For a shorter person with two working arms, Adolin would have just mounted and used plate-boosted strength to pick him up. But the captain was storming tall, making that impossible. So, plan B it was.

Tapping the stallion's barrel, just behind the girth, he said, "Bow." Obediently, Sureblood got down on one knee, his other leg stretched out before him. Not giving Kaladin a chance to protest, Adolin wrapped an arm around his hips and, carefully, lifted him up.

"Storm it, Adolin...!"

"You want on, Bridgeboy? Stop fighting!" he grumbled. It wasn't too bad in plate, but out of it, he imagined the thrashing would be a real nuisance.

He thrust Kaladin onto the horse, just behind the saddle, then mounted himself before Kaladin could complain more. Thankfully, Bridgeboy was as worried about the impending storm as Adolin, because the man stayed silent after the one complaint.

Sureblood stood, then. An arm latched onto Adolin's waist while Kaladin swore at the shifting. Holding the reins with one hand, Adolin grabbed Kaladin's arm, helping to steady him.

"You okay?"

"Storming fine! Now where are we going? We won't make it back before that storm hits."

Unfortunately, Kaladin was right. There was no way Sureblood could beat that storm, especially not with two riders, one of whom was in plate.

"There's a rock ledge over there." He pointed.

"Towards the storm," Kaladin said flatly.

"You have a better idea?"

No arguments. Good. Holding the reins in his right hand, Adolin wrapped his left arm around the arm clutching his waist.

"Princeling..."

"Don't need you flying off the horse's ass," he responded, nudging Sureblood into a gallop.

Kaladin grunted in what Adolin read as an unsettled way, arm tightening. Adolin clung to him just as tightly, neck-reining Sureblood towards the outcrop, where they could hopefully seek shelter.

It took them nearly half an hour to reach the shelter, stopping several times to walk while Sureblood caught his breath. Despite the breaks, the stallion was blowing heavily and lathered in foamy sweat by the time they arrived. They didn't stop, though, cantering along the edge, seeking shelter.

"There!"

He stopped Sureblood, following Kaladin's gesture. A cave. He hadn't dared hope, but there it was. Steering Sureblood over towards it, he ducked as a branch whipped by, driven by the wind. An instant later, icy wind slammed down, hitting his plate and head with the force of pebbles dropping from the sky. It fell uncomfortably into his plate, but he stubbornly refused to but his helm back on. If Kaladin had to be out completely exposed in this, he could forgo a helmet.

They hurried along as the rain began coming down in sheets, obscuring the cave from their view. Luckily, once they were alongside it, it was hard to miss it. Dismounting, he helped Kaladin down, shoving him, gently, towards the mouth.

"Princeling...!"

"Go, Bridgeboy! I'm fine."

"Kalak's ass you are."

"It's not big enough for Sureblood." Ten heartbeats. "He needs shelter too."

Kaladin swore. "Adolin..."

"I can't leave him." The blade formed in his hand and he stepped up to the cave mouth.

"Let me help." Stubborn man. One armed, what could he do? He was not going to let Kaladin get hurt more because of him.

"You can help by getting to shelter."

"Need I remind you, I'm the bodyguard..."

"And I have shardplate. A shardblade. Two arms. Go, Kaladin." Please, for the love of...

"At least put your helmet on."

Grabbing it, he slammed it on, shoving Kaladin inside afterwards. The man ducked his head and went, though not far. Good enough. With his blade, Adolin worked quickly to heighten the roof. Rocks tumbled to the ground as he cut into the ceiling of the cave, smacking off his plate. One hit hard enough to leave a crack, stormlight slowly leaking out.
He didn’t need to make it much higher, just enough for Sureblood to be able to lift his head while inside. The stallion could lower his head and lay down, but if the roof was not high enough for him to lift his head, he would be unable to stand up again...

But that storm was raging. A rock crashed to the ground two feet from Sureblood, spooking the stallion into backing a few steps away, head up and nostrils flared. He sped up. At least the laws of nature sided with him, making the rocks he cut tumble to the ground without any muscle required.

"Adolin... please..."

"Just about done..."

There. He dismissed the sword, and raced inside to begin shoving the larger pieces of rock outside. Kaladin joined him, throwing the smaller ones out. There was just enough room for the horse to stand in the mouth with his head half raised. It was better than nothing.

Calling Sureblood in, Adolin pulled off his helmet sank to the ground, catching his breath. Now that he wasn't moving, he was freezing.

"We should look further in."

Kaladin shook his head. "We don't know what lives in here. I don't want to find out."

Right, that made sense. He hunkered back down, shivering even despite his plate. He was soaked through, and he was pretty sure there were pools of water in his boots. Storming miserable...

"D-do you...think your father..."

The hesitation in Kaladin's voice was weird. He looked over, only then realising how badly his friend was shivering.

"They'll be fine. We were further out than they were, and they probably noticed the storm before we did." He truly hoped.

Kaladin nodded, good arm wrapped around his legs as he huddled himself for warmth. He looked...pathetic. Dark curls stuck to his face, and rivulets of water trickled down his face and neck. Adolin probably didn't look much better.

He began removing his armour. The cold plate wasn't doing much to hold warmth, in fact it was downright cold, and so he needed to get it off. Kaladin watched him, frowning.

"You're safer i-in it."

"I'll freeze to death in it. And so will you," he muttered.

Thankfully, plate came off faster than it went on, and he was soon dropping the last piece to the ground beside him. Not giving himself a chance to rethink his earlier decision, he moved closer to Kaladin, awkwardly clearing his throat.

"Hey, uh..."

Kaladin grabbed him first, good arm wrapping around one of Adolin's—Almighty, he could feel the man's shivering. "We...n-never speak of this..."

Adolin said nothing as he wrapped his free arm around Kaladin. His own shivering wasn't much better, and the two simply clung to one another for a time, desperate for any warmth as the icy air gusted in through the cave mouth.

"You're...freezing...Princeling."

"Like y-y-you're any b-better."

"It's my j-job to see you home...safely..."

Adolin rolled his eyes. "You're...impossible."

Kaladin looked over at him, and their eyes met for a long moment. They reached a wordless agreement in that moment. Weathering the highstorm safely would mean nothing if they wound up dead from hypothermia.

Tugging his own shirt up over his head, Adolin draped it across his back, using it as padding where he leaned against the wall. Kaladin had shrugged off his own coat, and was struggling to get the shirt over his head with one broken arm. Adolin wasted no further time in helping him.

Adding Kaladin's shirt to his own, he then draped the uniform coat over Kaladin's shoulders and stomach like a blanket. It was a testament to how uncomfortable the man was that he only protested minimally. Wrapping his arms around bridgeboy's waist again, he felt Kaladin settle back against him. The man's arms settled in atop his own, huddled together under the wet jacket. Neither said a word.

Finally, the cold began to abate. Not fully, but enough to still most of their shivering. No longer quite so concerned about freezing to death, Adolin allowed his mind to process everything that had happened.

It had seemed so silly, at first, Kaladin struggling to ride an obstinate horse, but had escalated into something so much worse. Despite his reassurances to the captain just a little while before, he was worried about his father and the rest of the hunting party. At least he and Kaladin were alive, however, and Sureblood was safe and sound. They would make it home safely. He had to believe the rest of the party would, too.

Then there was the small matter of the fact that he was huddled under a uniform jacket, shirtless, cuddling an equally shirtless Captain Kaladin...and he really didn't mind. Maybe even liked it a little. He knew it was stupid to enjoy something like this while their lives were in danger, but Kaladin was warm—sort of—and solid. If it took being caught out in a highstorm to live out this... fantasy of his,well...there were worse ways to spend a highstorm. A dangerous sentiment, perhaps.

"Someone talk," he finally muttered, wanting nothing more to do with his thoughts.

In true Kaladin style, the bridgeman grunted. Not an annoyed grunt, however—amazingly, he was learning to interpret those—but more a questioning one.

"Tell me about how a former bridgeman learned medicine so well."

Silence. Adolin wasn't really surprised, but he was a little...disappointed. From the little he had gathered from Bridge Four, he gathered the man wasn't much of one for talking about himself.

"I was more nervous bonding with Sureblood than I was duelling for my shardblade. My father took me to meet the Ryshadium years ago, and I...honestly, I'm not sure I was as scared the day Sadeas betrayed us as I was that day."

"Really? You were less scared after being abandoned and left to die than you were meeting a horse."
Kaladin’s words were more a statement of disbelief than a question, but he answered anyway, "...yes," he admitted. "I wanted one to pick me so badly, and when Sureblood did—Kaladin, it was the most amazing moment of my life, when he walked over to me. They pick their riders, and to be chosen by one...you can't understand the feeling."

Kaladin was staring off to the side, a slightly distant look in his eyes. After a moment, he sighed, blinking. "You might be surprised."

Adolin had no idea what that meant, but he let it go. Kaladin wouldn't explain if he asked, anyway.

Kaladin looked aside again, then he shook his head, asking, "Your shardblade. Everyone else names theirs. Why didn't you name yours?"

"...long ago, when it was created, the blade had a name," he confessed, "whatever that name is, I don't know it. Instead of changing its name, I just accept that I don’t know its name."

Kaladin fell silent, glancing to the side yet again. Then he shrugged. "That's...actually a decent sentiment, Princeling."

"Thanks, I guess?"

Silence again. What a talkative man, bridgeboy was.

"My father. He's a surgeon."

It took Adolin a moment to take the non-sequitur for what it was, but when he did, he found himself grinning. "That explains a few things. You learned from him."

"I did. I was his apprentice."

"How did you wind up a soldier?" And not a surgeon.

"War."

"Surgeons are as valuable as soldiers."

"My training wasn't complete."

"...it could be. I'm certain my father would—"

"No. This is my path now. It's too late to go back."

Kalak's breath, did he actually sound sad about that? Unconsciously, his grasp around Kaladin tightened. "We have plenty of surgeons who could teach you."

"I can't turn back now," he said quietly.

Not really understanding, but respecting that this was something Kaladin felt strongly about, he let the matter drop. He had just learned more about Kaladin in a few minutes than he had in months working together. He would be satisfied with that for now.

Silence fell over them once more, neither having anything to add to the sound of the howling wind. At the cave mouth, Sureblood lay on the ground, clearly preferring the floor to ducking beneath the ceiling. The horse looked as uncomfortable as they were.

Cold, wet, and tired. The howling wind, teeming rain, and cracking thunder made sleep impossible, and neither had much to say.

"At least we won't go thirsty."

Kaladin scoffed. "Are you always so storming positive, Princeling?"

"You have enough doom and gloom for both of us. I might as well try and stay cheerful." Though sometimes it was damn hard.

"...Adolin."

Giving Kaladin a squeeze, he leaned forward, resting his chin on the man's shoulder. "You're allowed to be happy, you know. In fact, I'd like to see that."

"A delusion. I'm never happy."

"I've noticed. You could be, though, if you'd let yourself."

"You're too optimistic."

"You're too pessimistic. It just makes us a good match."

Kaladin stiffened at that, turning to catch Adolin's gaze. "...a good match?"

Adolin shrugged, mentally cursing himself for the poor word choice. This topic was probably inappropriate. And dangerous. There was too much skin, and not enough...inhibition.

"Someone has to be happy for you."

Kaladin really stiffened at that. "And that's you?" There was an edge to his tone that Adolin couldn't place.

"Why not?"

"...you're acting...weird, Princeling."

"You're weird every day. At least I know how to smile."

"I can smile."

"Prove it."

Kaladin scoffed. "Adolin..."

"Prove it. Smile for me."

To his surprise, Kaladin did. It was weak, it was mostly forced, but it was a rare smile. On a whim, Adolin leaned forward and kissed it.

Kaladin stiffened further still. Pulling back, Adolin muttered, "If you get any tenser, we'll be able to use you as a wood plank."

"What are you doing?" Kaladin demanded.

"Trying to cheer you up," he said honestly, meeting Kaladin's gaze steadily.

"You? You really think you can...?"

"I'm trying."

This time, Kaladin let him kiss him, though he made no move to return it. With a disappointed grunt—learned from Kaladin—he pulled back. "...Bridgeboy?"

"You're a storming prince, Adolin. I'm a darkeyes."

"Isn't it you who insists that shouldn't matter? My father told me what you said to him."

"Adolin..." He waited. "Laral. I know my parents wanted me to marry her. We were second dahn. It could have happened, if the whole world hadn't storming turned on us, but I never wanted to be stuck in a marriage like that, a marriage where I would forever be outranked by my wife."

"Good thing I'd make a poor wife." Heralds above, had he just said that?

Kaladin quirked an actual, amused smirk at that. "See? You can laugh," he teased, hugging Kaladin. Had he really found this so awkward before? Now it just felt good. Warmer, if not quite warm, and...close.

"That wasn't a laugh."

"Okay. You can be an arrogant git. Better?"

That smile widened, and Adolin gave in to the urge to kiss him again. This time, Kaladin responded. Adolin grinned against his mouth, running a hand up the other man's stomach.

"This is a terrible time for this."

"I see nothing better to do."

Kaladin grunted, but the man finally shut up when Adolin kissed him again.

~

The storm was finally letting up and the riddens settling in. Kaladin dozed weakly in Adolin's arms as the blond stared outside. Compared to the howling of the storm, the lightening rainfall was almost pleasant to listen to. Adolin let his own eyes close, feeling content.

~

It was full dark when Adolin awoke next to Kaladin prodding him. His eyes opened, catching the darkeyes' features in the glow of stormlight provided by his shed plate.

"Kal...?" he asked groggily.

"Shh, Princeling. Listen."

The quiet urgency in Kaladin's tone drew him to full wakefulness. Glancing around, he frowned. What...? There!

His pulse increased. In the glow of stormlight, he caught sight of a terrifying figure further in. As tall as a man, it prowled nearby, claws clicking off the rocky floor.

"Get to Sureblood, now," he ordered Kaladin. Ten heartbeats.

"Princ--"

"Go!" He shoved Kaladin as his sword misted into being.

The whitespine lunged, and Adolin barely forced it back with a deft strike. Behind him, Kaladin hadn't moved. Insufferable man!

"Kaladin!"

A strong hand grabbed his left arm, dragging him. "Not without you."

Together, they backed away. Sureblood, thankfully, had already left the cave, and was kneeling on the ground just outside the cave mouth. Kaladin stumbled onto the horse first, swearing in pain. Adolin didn't care. Leaping at the creature, he forced it back, severing a fang and two spines. Then he raced for the stallion, jumping on.

Sureblood spun and ran.

Kaladin was in the saddle this time, Adolin clumsily trying to stay on the horse's rump. Grabbing the cantle, he clutched it for dear life, sword long abandoned, and prayed Sureblood could outrun that thing.

"How fast is it?" Kaladin asked, speaking his thoughts aloud. The man looked pained, good arm clutching the pommel of the saddle as he twisted to look back at the cave.

"Hopefully not this fast."

"You should have kept your plate on."

"I'd be dead from hypothermia, and so would you."

Kaladin grunted. "And we might wind up dead anyway."

"Might is better than would," he countered, reaching out with one arm to grab Kaladin around the waist.

"...right."

Thankfully, the whitespine didn't seem interested in pursuing them. After the storm, chances were it just wanted easy prey. Adolin would take what small blessings he could.

"We'll have to go back for your plate."

"Preferably with a set that's being worn."

"Right. We left half of our clothing behind, too. Can a princeling go back without a shirt?"

Adolin shrugged. Preferably not, but returning without his plate was infinitely worse. "Not much choice now. I'm not willing to fight a whitespine, unarmoured, for a shirt."

"Two."

"Huh?"

"Two shirts."

Adolin stared at him, then grinned. "Was that almost a joke?"

"...no?"

Adolin elbowed him gently. "Right. Of course not."

Kaladin just grunted.

~

"Do I want to know why my son and the captain of my guard rode back into my camp, missing both a valuable horse and invaluable suit of plate, without shirts?"

"Nice to see you too, Father."

Dalinar just frowned, and Adolin sighed. "Not even a little happy to see me?"

Dalinar shook his head. "Of course I'm beyond relieved to see you back, son, but without your plate..."

They resided in Dalinar's rooms, lounging on the plush furniture with glasses of wine. Captain Kaladin joined them, sitting uncomfortably, his arm in a proper sling.

Upon arrival back at the warcamp, Adolin had been swarmed by soldiers and guards, such that it was not long before Bridge Four showed up. They were given clothing and raced off to the surgeons' compound to be tended. Adolin had few wounds, but he refused to leave until Kaladin was properly seen to.

...for some reason, Kaladin has seemed reluctant to let them set his bone properly, but it had been done, and not without a few guardsmen stopping by to clap him on the back. One even brought Kaladin a change of uniform. By the time the arm was tended to, Dalinar had arrived, two other members of Bridge Four in tow. It was hours before they finally left the medical compound, and by then the sun was coming back up.

That had not stopped Dalinar from calling a quick meeting, just himself, Adolin, and Kaladin. Infuriatingly, Renarin stood guard outside the room.

"Tell me the whole story."

Glancing at Kaladin, Adolin shrugged and did so, leaving out a few...choice bits, but otherwise telling the truth, even about the unorthodox cuddling through the highstorm. Dalinar did not so much as blink at that; soldiers learned to do what they had to in order to survive. He was, however, understandably upset over the abandoned plate.

"I...understand the situation, but we need to retrieve that plate."

"I volunteer to personally lead the mission to retrieve it."

"No, Captain. You need to give that arm time to rest. My surgeons tell me it was quite a bad break."

Kaladin frowned, but did not press the issue.

"I'll go out with a set of king's plate, if Elhokar will loan it to me." Little doubt of that. "And yes, Bridgeboy, I'll bring guards. As many as you want." He owed him that much.

Kaladin grunted. "If you're going, so am I."

"No, Captain. If I have to forbid it, I will," Dalinar warned. "You're off-duty with that arm."

"Then you won't miss me if I follow him on my own."

Adolin blinked at the obstinate statement, but he found himself smiling, touched. He covered it with an amused grin. "I'll take him, Father. We both know he's too stubborn to listen anyway."

Kaladin scoffed, but didn't argue.

"Captain, if you--"

"With all due respect, sir, it's my fault this happened. I would see it fixed."

Dalinar sighed. "Very well. If Adolin is willing."

"I am, Father. Who knows, maybe we can even find Dreamstorm for him."

Beside him, Kaladin winced.

"Go tomorrow, then, before another highprince gets it in his head to go looking for your plate."

Adolin nodded.

"If I may, sir, how did the rest of the hunt go?"

Dalinar shrugged. "We killed the one we found, then spotted the highstorm. We rode back, searching for you on the way, but we had little time to dally, so we hurried back, hoping to meet you both here. I worried when you never made it back, but here you are now."

"Nobody was hurt?"

"None, Captain. A clean kill."

Kaladin nodded, seeming relieved.

"...you two look tired. Go ahead and get some rest."

Bidding farewell to Dalinar, they slipped out. Outside Renarin stole a quick hug that Adolin returned willingly. They walked a short distance, talking, then Adolin stopped. "You off duty yet?"

"Well—"

"Go ahead, Renarin," Kaladin said. "I'll take over."

"Father said—"

"It's fine, Renarin. I still have my other guards."

Renarin hesitated, then nodded. He looked tired; he had probably been up all night, fretting. With a clap to his brother's shoulder, Adolin bid him get some sleep.

"So, you mean that about taking over for Renarin? You gonna stand guard outside my room while I take a nap?"

Kaladin met his eyes. Adolin read that look like a woman devouring a book.

"Then come on."

They reached his room, and taking a deep breath, Adolin shoved open the door. To his joy, Kaladin followed.

"Captain—?"

"It's fine, Teft. The prince and I need to discuss a patrol later."

"...right, Captain."

Adolin closed the door.

~*~Here there be smut~*~

He was on Kaladin in an instant, the bridgeman barely turning to face him before Adolin had his hands on Kaladin's hips, tugging him close. It took the other man a moment to catch up, but once he did, Adolin was not disappointed.

An arm linked around Adolin's neck, and he jerked Kaladin closer still, enjoying the feeling of the taller man's body pulled flush against him. The good hand slid down to his shoulder, pushing Adolin back into the wall, never once breaking the kiss.

The hungry fervour was not what Adolin was accustomed to from mannerly nobles, but it was certainly not disappointing. Even one-armed, Kaladin managed forceful presence, and Kalak take him...it was making him hard.

"Problem, Princeling?" a hot voiced hissed into his ear. Oh, Almighty he...

Hips ground into his own, drawing a breathy gasp from Adolin, his own hips thrusting out in response. "Not a...chance, Bridgeboy..."

Hot lips found his neck, sucking hard on the sensitive skin. Adolin groaned, hands sliding into Kaladin's jacket, then up, under his shirt. The knobby scars he found there, which he had barely given a thought to the night before, gave him pause now.

"Not a...word."

Adolin agreed, leaving the matter as he drew his hands back. It was easy enough to shove Kaladin's jacket off, his broken arm not through the sleeve, but his shirt was going to prove troublesome.

"Just had to go and break yourself, didn't you?" he commented.

Kaladin retorted by biting his neck. Hard.

Adolin hissed loudly in pain. He should have been annoyed by that, but he wasn't. Right now, he failed to care if Kaladin left any marks.

Kaladin's good arm had moved to tackle Adolin's shirt, but he apparently got frustrated trying to get the ties open, and just fisted it instead, dragging Adolin closer. The prince found himself grinning at the obvious frustration.

"I told you. Should ha—"

Kaladin shut him up with a kiss, tongue shoving into Adolin's mouth in a decidedly possessive way.

Laughing to himself, Adolin pulled his own shirt up, breaking the kiss to pull it off and throw it aside. "Better?"

Almighty, the way Kaladin growled at him...

He kissed him again, and for several minutes they fell silent, tongues and hands exploring. Thoroughly. Breaking off the kiss, Adolin pressed his forehead against Kaladin's shoulder, panting.

"Damn, Bridgeboy..."

"Do you have—?"

The implication in the question was clear, and Adolin nodded. "Under the bed. Purple bag. Glass jar."

Kaladin nodded. Sending a warning look to Adolin, he growled a throaty, "Stay put," as he let the prince go and all but prowled over to the bed. To Adolin's immense surprise, he found that he wanted to do nothing so much as obey in that moment.

So he did, leaning against the wall and watching as Kaladin sank to his knees, one arm cradled to his chest, the other supporting his weight. Adolin stared quite openly at the man's ass as he bent over, searching, and quickly retrieving the olive oil that Adolin used as a lubricant—well hidden, of course, lest Dalinar ever...

No. Not the time to be thinking of his father. He could be a good soldier without being completely chaste. He was still a young man!

Kaladin got back to his feet. The bridgeman's eyes roved over Adolin's body, and the prince found himself sucking in a deep breath. Oh, Almighty, why was he so...so...

Kaladin glanced at his pants, and with a slight nod, made his wants painfully clear. Adolin met the man's eyes, brow quirked. "Not so fast, Bridgeboy, I'm no—"

Kaladin slammed the jar down onto Adolin's desk and closed the distance in two long strides. Hands found Adolin's hips, pressing him into the wall. "You're not what?"

The man had been a slave just months ago. He was a darkeyes, if a very high ranked one. Adolin was a prince. He swallowed anyway, finding the game to a massive turn-on.

"Nothing."

Belt first, then, he noted as Kaladin's hand found his pants, fumbling to get the belt open one-handed. Adolin reached down with the intent to help, but it seemed Kaladin had been successful. Before he could do much of anything, Kaladin had hooked a thumb under the waistband of his pants and shoved them down.

Adolin shivered as his remaining clothing was dropped around his ankles. Kaladin's hand grabbed his hip, tugging Adolin in close, and kissed him. The rough fabric of Kaladin's uniform pants rubbed against his skin. Annoyed, Adolin reached out, hands pushing Kaladin's hips off his own just far enough to tackle the bridgeman's belt. The man's shirt would be left for now, because frankly it wasn't worth the effort to get it off over the splinted arm.

He got the belt opened much more easily than Kaladin had, shoving the man's clothing down. He wasn't given a chance to take an eyeful, however, as Kaladin pressed right back in.

This time, hot skin met hot skin, and Adolin moaned, hips bucking forward.

"Give me a hand with the jar," Kaladin growled against his lips, reaching over to grab it from the desk table. Adolin obliged, twisting off the cap and holding the jar out to him.

It was hard to do much with Kaladin's prominent erection pressing into his abdomen; his own rested against Kaladin's thigh. His hands slid down the man's sides, to his hips. Then he reached around, grabbing the other's arse and tugging him closer. The gesture was reward with a groan of pleasure from his partner.

"Turn."

Adolin was going to protest, but catching Kaladin's eye...he obeyed, telling himself it was to help. Kaladin only had one arm, after all.

A hot body pressed flush against him, the captain's knee shoving itself between his own legs to force them apart. Kaladin's lips found his shoulder, sucking on the skin there. Adolin let out a long, shuddering breath.

Kaladin shifted behind him, and then a cold finger was pressing against his ass. It rubbed a few circles, spreading the oil, then began pushing in.

"You know what you're doing?" Adolin asked, voice breathy.

Kaladin grunted. "You pick up a few surprising skills in the army."

Interesting. Adolin left it at that, instead focussing on the sensations Kaladin's fingers were evoking in him. The cool oil was a stark contrast to his own, hot skin, and Adolin let his eyes slip closed, cheek pressed against the wall.

"Kal..."

"Princeling."

Storm him for sounding so collected.

Two fingers, then three, stretching him, opening him. Adolin's breath picked up, and he felt a strong spike of want as Kaladin's fingers brushed his prostate. He let out a soft, breathy moan.

"Like that?"

"...come on, Kal," he breathed, hungrily.

The hand was removed. Adolin held out the jar to him, and Kaladin took it. More fumbling, though Adolin couldn't see what he was doing. A dull thunk marked the jar hitting the desk again, and then Kaladin's good hand was on his hip again.

"You good?"

"Kalak's ass, yes."

Something much thicker than a finger pressed against him, and Adolin let out an anticipatory gasp. "Kal..."

"If you need me to stop..."

"You'll know it," Adolin promised, "now go."

Kaladin began pressing inside. It wasn't unpleasant, and he found himself pushing back, wanting more. The man pushed in steadily, but not hurriedly, until Adolin felt prickly hairs against the skin of his rear.

Kaladin's arm looped around his hips, pulling Adolin closer. The blond moaned softly, tilting his head to the side so Kaladin could suck at his neck, wordlessly waiting while Adolin adjusted.

"Go...ahead," he breathed after about a minute.

Kaladin needed no second invitation. He started off slowly, allowing Adolin to get used to it, but gradually built up the pace.

Adolin moaned softly, then more loudly when Kaladin hit that spot dead on. He could feel the captain's smirk against his neck. "Good, Princeling?"

Adolin grunted in response. Slipping a hand to his own dock, he took it in hand, and began stroking in time to Kaladin's thrusts.

"I think you can do better," he replied at last.

Kaladin, it seemed, did not need to be told twice. Bridgeboy began moving in earnest, forcing Adolin to strain with his free arm to keep from being slammed into the wall. Neither bothered trying to talk more, only the sounds of ragged breathing and skin-on-skin filled the silence.

It was not long before Adolin felt heat pooling in his abdomen. Making a quick decision, he released his own cock. No way was he finishing before Kaladin. At least, that was his plan. Try as he might, however, the pounding his prostate was taking pushed him over the edge before much longer.

Gasping, he thrust back against Kaladin. Kaladin sped up, riding Adolin through his orgasm. Moments before the stimulation got to be too much, Kaladin grunted in a way that was nothing like his normal grunts. A few more thrusts, and then stillness, silence save for their breathing.

The arm around Adolin loosened, but did not leave, and rough bites from Kaladin changed to soft kisses.

"Meeting over?"

Adolin snorted softly, turning back around to face the man. "Only if you want it to be."

"Meaning...?"

"Let's go to bed," Adolin whispered, kissing his cheek. “We both need some sleep before we go back out there.”

"My men—"

Adolin shrugged. Amazingly, that was all it took. Kaladin let him up, and Adolin strode to his bed, stopping briefly at the wash basin to clean himself up. Kaladin did likewise while Adolin climbed into bed.

~*~Here there be no more smut~*~

While his father didn't approve of excessive lavishness, Adolin still had a nice bedroom. A thick, blue rug kept the chill from the stone floor off bare feet. A few wall hangings added colour to the room, and a full fire, lit before they'd arrived, blazed in the hearth.

The sleeping area was partitioned off from a comfortable sitting area by a set of folding screens purchased, Adolin thought, from Shinovar. The sitting area contained a nice table, made from real wood, nothing Soulcast, as well as two sofas and a plush armchair.

They were on the sleeping portion now, which contained only a desk made from soulcast wood, and his bed. The screens blocked out sight of the door.

The bed was a comfortable thing, easily large enough for both of them, with a mattress imported from somewhere to the west—possibly also Shinovar. This room contained some of the only comforts Adolin had managed to convince his father to get in six years.

He sank into bed with a content sigh, pushing back the cotton blankets. Kaladin hesitated only a moment before joining him. Laying on his back, Adolin motioned for Kaladin to come closer. Bridgeboy did, laying down beside him. Kaladin draped his broken arm across Adolin's chest, snuggling against the man's side.

"Night, Kal," he said softly, running a hand through dark, curly hair.

Kaladin huffed softly. "Night."

~

They awoke early in the afternoon, and to say that it was awkward would be an understatement. Oh, not when they first woke up, but after. When they were up, dressed...and opened the door. Nobody said anything, but the looks...

"Try not to fall asleep on my couch next time, Bridgeboy," he said quickly.

Kaladin stared at him for a moment, then cleared his throat awkwardly. "Right, yeah."

After one quick, final glance, Kaladin hurried off. Adolin tried not to watch his ass.

They did ride out to retrieve the plate not long after. Kaladin did join them, on a much quieter gelding, but thankfully things went smoothly. The whitespine wasn't there, so they retrieved the plate without issue, making it home just before dark.

They parted at camp, Kaladin's men dragging him back to their barrack. Kaladin sent him a look, however. A look that promised more in the future.

Adolin wasn't complaining.