Chapter Text
Adolin
Adolin’s life has been turned completely upside down overnight and he is thriving.
He loves waking up in the middle of the night to feed Ev, those quiet moments with just the two of them, his son’s big eyes staring up at him with innocent curiosity. He loves holding him, rocking him as he walks in circles around the apartment, talking to him, jabbering about anything and everything even though he knows Ev doesn’t understand a word of it. He loves sitting cross-legged on the bed, watching the baby wave his tiny hands in the air, legs kicking wildly.
He’s smaller than most newborns since he arrived so early, but he has done well eating in the past week and he’s catching up quickly. Adolin’s very proud.
It’s over a week after Ev is born that Dalinar finally arrives back from handling the Azimir situation, and Adolin, for the first time in literal years, steps forward and pulls his father into a hug.
“Thank you.”
Dalinar, shocked, takes a moment to react, then wraps his arms around Adolin, hugging him back.
Unbeknownst to any of them, Dalinar, Navini, and Jasnah have been working diligently on a project over the last several weeks, one that explores new methods of instantaneous travel. They began after the whole fiasco with the spanreed failure and the inability to use the Azimir Oathgate forced Kaladin and Shallan to take drastic measures.
Taking into account how Shallan’s and Dalinar’s powers combined into something no one had ever seen before back when they’d first started creating those interactive war maps, and knowing that Light and the powers of surgebinding have started behaving in unpredictable and unfamiliar ways, they designed an experiment that let them combine Dalinar’s and Jasnah’s powers, a Bondsmith and an Elsecaller, to see the ways they could manipulate them into something new.
Jasnah is still unable to create an Elsegate on her own, but using Dalinar’s ability to open Honor’s Perpendicularity they managed to create something similar. As Aunt Navani explains it, Honor’s Perpendicularity usually appears where the Bondsmith who opens it is physically located, but when they combined that ability with Jasnah’s surge of transportation, not only did the Perpendicularity connect them to the other Realms, but in this version Dalinar could also pinpoint where he wanted it to let him out and in which realm, similar to how the Oathgates at Urithiru work but with much more flexibility.
Of course, it requires an Elsecaller of at least the Fourth Ideal (of which there is only one that they know of) and a Bondsmith that has the ability to open Honor’s Perpendicularity (of which there are only two, one being an insane Herald), so the new skill is extremely limited as far as availability. It is also apparently very temperamental, supremely exhausting on Dalinar’s part, and requires much more testing.
The actual science of it is beyond Adolin’s ability to fully comprehend, but he understands enough to know that his family somehow found a way around the corrupted Oathgate spren at Azimir, creating their own kind of Elsegate, and that Dalinar used that very new, very taxing ability to get him back here in time for the birth of his son.
He knows they didn’t originally design the experiment just for him, that there are more practical reasons for discovering a new, quicker way to travel in emergencies, but he also doesn’t know if he will ever be able to thank them enough.
Adolin cries when he hands Everin to his father to hold. It’s surreal, because he was so sure he’d never again be able to see his father as anything other than the man who murdered his mother, his son’s namesake, and while that still stings, will probably never not hurt, there’s something about seeing this brutal, indomitable warrior holding Adolin’s son so gently, eyes impossibly tender as he takes in the features of his new grandson, that makes Adolin believe in his redemption and the possibility of reconciliation.
Renarin is over the moon at meeting his nephew, all heart-eyes and awkward hands, and Jasnah is… Jasnah. Practical and polite, but Adolin can see her eyes soften, so he knows she’s more affected than she shows. Navani, of course, dotes on the boy as much as she does Gavinor, offering to babysit every time they see her.
One evening after Dalinar’s return Syl appears in their apartment with Pattern in tow, full-sized and carrying a thick piece of artist’s paper. Actually carrying it with her, walking up to where Kaladin sits with Adolin on the couch, a shy smile on her face as Pattern hums happily from the cushions near Adolin’s head.
“We made this for you. Well, for Everin,” she says proudly, holding it out to Kaladin. Adolin looks down as he takes it, curious, and Shallan stands from her own chair to come over and see what it is.
It’s a drawing. It’s nowhere near Shallan’s talent, of course, more reminiscent of a colorful collection of stick figures, but each of them is distinctive and recognizable.
“Did you draw this?” Adolin asks Syl, shocked, and she nods, twisting from side to side happily.
“I’ve been practicing. Pattern helped me with my technique.”
In the picture, a figure that is clearly Shallan stands on one end in a flowing blue havah, scribbles of bright red hair reaching down to her waist. Kaladin is next, tall and regal in a Kholin blue uniform, holding what looks like a bundle of blankets in his stick arms with little lines of black and yellow poking from the top that surely represent Ev’s hair. Then Adolin, with a broad cartoon smile on his face, wearing his military uniform with the added touch of a flowing golden cape.
Next to Adolin is Maya as she appears in Shadesmar, criss-crossing green vines easily discernable on her figure, and then Syl herself, colored bright blue and wearing her own Kholin uniform. Then both Pattern and Testament, also in full-form, symbol-like faces bold and dark, standing tall with hands joined between them.
They all know Syl’s been practicing being more solid in the physical realm, experimenting with how she can interact with objects and people, but apparently she’s been holding back on how much progress she’s actually made over the last five months. She tells them now about those times she and Pattern would disappear, how they would go to their favorite hiding place, a sheltered little nook in the back corner of the library, and they’d practice her writing skills and eventually her drawing, which she says she mostly learned by watching Shallan sketch and from Pattern’s helpful instruction.
Kaladin wipes his eyes before offering the picture to Adolin. He takes it, his own eyes wet as he stares at his stick figure family, floored by the care and effort so clearly put into this simple piece of art.
Kaladin stands and tries to hug Syl despite her still being mostly incorporeal. He thanks her for the beautiful gift and she gives him a kiss on the cheek. Adolin follows suit, and her lips on his cheek feel like a gentle, affectionate breeze.
Shallan gives her own tearful thanks and offers to lacquer the drawing, which Syl and Pattern immediately take her up on. The spren observe the process excitedly as Shallan walks them through the steps, and Adolin pulls Kaladin into his side on the couch as they watch, the Windrunner’s head dropping to rest on his shoulder.
The first time Kaladin brings the baby down to the Bridge Four barracks he nearly incites a riot.
The men and women practically fall over themselves to see the new Prince (and oh, the face Kaladin makes the first time someone calls Ev a Prince is something Adolin will never forget). Adolin grins proudly, gloryspren flying around him in a loose halo, as Kaladin passes their son over to his old crew, and Shallan takes mental picture after mental picture, determined to remember and record every single person’s expression when they get to hold their captain’s newborn child. Maybe she will give the finished sketches to each person as a memento, or maybe she and Kaladin and Adolin will keep them, memories of how loved their child is even in his first days.
Several of the men are unsure about holding Ev at first but Kaladin shows them how, guiding their hands into the correct position to support the baby’s head, cool and confident, just like he taught them to handle a spear, so long ago. All of them are unbearably gentle, tough men and strong women now with their sharp corners softened by tenderness. A few of them even get emotional, Drehy and Leyton and Lyn and Skar’s eyes shining suspiciously, Sigzil excusing himself after his turn holding Ev to go wipe his face off in the corner, and Lopen breaking into loud, unabashed tears as he rocks the tiny human, grinning happily and telling him how excited his “Uncle Lopen” is to teach him all kinds of jokes and fun tricks while everyone else groans at the Herdazian’s proclamation, laughterspren and joyspren swirling around them despite all the grumbling.
The first month is a period of recovery. It feels to Adolin like his entire world exists right here in this tower, like nothing else outside of it matters anymore. He knows the war is still going on, knows that his father and his men and others are still fighting, still working hard to win some kind of peace for humankind, but right now he can’t see past the beautiful little family he’s somehow a part of.
Once again he finds himself grateful to his father, who has, without being asked, placed Adolin on temporary leave of duty, making sure his men are taken care of and that they have the leadership they need in his absence.
Shallan remains at the tower as well, and seeing the way she’s taken to baby Ev, standing in front of the balcony windows every morning with him in her arms, rocking from side to side and singing Veden lullabies with a swirling audience of joyspren, Adolin falls in love with her all over again. Her happiness shows in the way she carries herself, the lightness of her step, the quickness of her smile. Seeing her embrace motherhood is breathtaking.
Kaladin has good days and bad days, as he always has. They were told to expect it with the sudden absence of hormones, everything still left in his body tapering off back to pre-pregnancy levels. It’s like a kind of withdrawal, which makes sense.
Lirin also told the three of them that a large percentage of mothers experience an extended period of depression after giving birth. The supposed reasons vary, from feeling useless to the sudden strangeness of being alone in their body again to exhaustion and general malaise. Regardless of the reasons, Lirin wanted to be very clear with them that there was a distinct possibility of this happening with Kaladin, and, of course, he was correct.
Adolin will sometimes come in from another room to find Kaladin just sitting in a chair, silent and unmoving, staring out the window with glazed eyes. Adolin, heart hurting, will wrap the Windrunner in his arms and they’ll watch the sun set, and then he’ll coax Kaladin into bed, where he can press himself against the other man more fully. Shallan will feed the baby and rock him to sleep in the bassinet they keep by the side of the bed, and then she’ll cuddle up with them, the two of them holding Kaladin tight in their arms until he finally gives in to sleep.
It’s not every day, and Kaladin is often able to push through it and function normally, but Adolin can see how much he’s struggling and it breaks his heart. Lirin tells him there’s not much he can do and that usually it passes with time and support, but that Kaladin has always been somewhat of a special case when it comes to sadness.
They have one particularly hard evening where Kaladin is nearly unresponsive, worrying them both so much that Adolin actually reaches out to Lirin and Hesina. They come immediately, though there isn’t much more they can do for Kaladin than what Adolin and Shallan have already tried. They end up leaving an hour later with a promise to check in the following morning, making sure to tell Adolin on their way out, eyes full of worry, to not leave Kaladin alone tonight.
He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. He and Shallan stay near Kaladin for the rest of the night, showering him with patience and love and physical touch, the latter of which Adolin thinks is at least partially for their own benefit. He stays awake through the night and into the morning, unable to sleep, staring at Kaladin’s strong profile in slumber, chest tight and aching.
Kaladin seems better the next day, still down but less catatonic, and Adolin’s worry eases some as he watches Kaladin and Shallan share a bowl of fruit during breakfast on the balcony.
Throughout the day Adolin wracks his exhausted brain for some way to help Kaladin, and eventually he comes up with an idea he thinks might work to improve the other man’s mood.
Exercise is something Kaladin missed sorely during his pregnancy, especially in those last few months, and by all accounts he’s completely cleared to resume whatever kind of training he wants to do, though he hasn’t, mostly because of a combination of not wanting to miss out on even a second with baby Ev and him just not feeling up to it. But working out his body might be a good way to help clear his mind and reset. It always helps Adolin feel rejuvenated, so hopefully with Kaladin the effects will be similar.
He asks Kaladin that evening after dinner, as they’re all relaxing in the living area.
Adolin is laying on his stomach facing Ev, who is wiggling around miserably on his belly on the rug in front of him. He seems to hate the position, despite how necessary both Hesina and Navani insist it is for a baby’s development, and he makes small, angry noises every time he attempts to lift his head up and fails.
Adolin takes pity on him and rolls him over onto his back and Ev coos happily at the change of view. He’s started to smile recently, real smiles, not just gas, and Adolin practically melts every time he is able to draw one out.
“Do you want to spar with me tomorrow?” He asks as he tickles one of Ev’s soft little feet with a finger. Ev kicks at him and Adolin smiles.
“Spar?” Kaladin asks distractedly.
He’s sitting next to Shallan on the couch, head tilted back onto the cushion while he watches her sketch a portrait of Ev sleeping in his bassinet.
Adolin boops Ev on the nose and chuckles as the baby tries to grab at his finger, reactions jerky and slow.
“Yeah, spar. Go down to the training area and move around a bit, work some muscles that haven’t been used in a while.”
Kaladin shrugs, gaze still on Shallan’s drawing.
“Sure,” he says, and Adolin takes it as a win. Hopefully getting his blood moving will help some with the listlessness. Maybe reintroduce old hobbies.
So the next morning he and Kaladin head down to the training ground after breakfast, and when they get there Adolin insists they start with a kata to stretch out neglected muscles and find their center. Kaladin rolls his eyes but agrees, and they begin with one that Kaladin has also done before, the one Zahel taught Adolin so many years ago.
Halfway through he’s already begun to see a change in the Windrunner. Kaladin stands taller, his eyes brighter, focus sharper as he holds one pose and moves to the next. The Windrunner seems to notice the change in himself, too, catching Adolin’s eyes and giving him a wry smile, and Adolin grins, happy to have helped even just this little bit.
Kaladin enjoys the kata so much that when they finish he asks Adolin if he can do a spear kata as well before they start sparring, and Adolin immediately tosses him a spear from the weapons rack, Kaladin catching it neatly and twirling it once before twisting it into position and lunging at the air, quick and deadly and beautiful.
It takes Adolin’s breath away.
He’s heard the story of the Chasm Kata from various members of Bridge Four, but hearing it is not the same as seeing it. He’s seen Kaladin do enough katas that he’s lost count, spear and sword alike, but he doesn’t think he’s ever seen him lose himself in it the way he does now. Scratch that, he knows he's never seen it. This must be what that first kata was like, down in the chasms, back when he was still a bridgeman, fighting every day just to survive and somehow inspiring an entire crew of men to follow him just by being himself.
He moves like the wind, smooth and flowing and graceful. Long limbs dance in and out of stances both practical and not, muscles pulling taut under the strain and releasing. The spear cuts through the air gracefully, and Kaladin spins it in his hands so quickly it’s just a blur, Adolin losing track of which end is which until it suddenly snaps into place again, perfectly balanced.
Kaladin’s movements eventually slow into something more akin to Zahel’s sword kata, more of a meditative stretch, and then he halts completely, face flushed and eyes bright.
“You doing okay there, princeling?” He asks with a smirk, eyeing the awespren circling around Adolin’s head.
Adolin’s face burns at being caught basically drooling over the man, but he grins, pushing the embarrassment away. This is his husband, he’s allowed to look.
“A little hot, a little bothered, but nothing a good, sweaty spar can’t fix,” he says, chipper.
And Kaladin throws back his head and laughs, exposing his neck, sweat beading in shining droplets on his tan skin.
Well. If Adolin wasn’t drooling before he absolutely is now.
“Actually, you know what,” he says, striding up to Kaladin and yanking the spear from his hands before tossing it to the side. “Let’s take a rain check on the sparring.”
Kaladin’s eyes glitter as Adolin tugs him down into a heated kiss.
_____
Kaladin
Sometimes Kaladin looks at his life and feels like an imposter. Like he somehow tricked Shallan and Adolin into loving him, like he dreamed up the whole pregnancy and it was actually Shallan who carried Ev instead, and he’s still just the third wheel, waiting to be cut loose the moment they decide they’ve had enough.
And then there will be a moment, something simple and quaint, that somehow has the same effect as a shardhammer, just smashing into him with incredible force that this is real, this is his, and it’s not going anywhere.
This is real. This is his. It’s not going anywhere.
He’s living one of those moments now. Everin is in the basin in the bathroom as they wash the remnants of dinner from his face, his hair, his storming feet, and they’re all crowded together, he and Adolin and Shallan and Syl, just laughing at the fact that they’re having to wash the food out from between Ev’s toes.
His laughter fades but his happiness does not, and he watches as Adolin tries to get a hold of Ev’s foot as the little cremling keeps kicking and splashing water everywhere, squealing happily. He watches Shallan, who tries to help and just ends up getting wet in the process, and Syl, who is the cause of all the kicking, making more and more outrageous faces at the baby, making him shriek and giggle with joy.
He never could have predicted this is where his life would take him. Never could have guessed he’d have the love of not one, but two of the best, strongest people he’s ever known, and the friendship, the partnership, of a piece of divinity that for some insane reason believes he’s deserving of her.
He loves them all so much and the thought of losing them still terrifies him enough that sometimes it freezes him in his tracks, but he’s at a place now where he’s determined to trust people, especially those close to him, when they tell him they love him and want him around, that they’re not going to leave. It’s hard, because he knows better than anyone how life can change in a second, especially now, when war is so close to them. But he tries to believe it anyway, because living in fear has never worked for him, and he wants to be better now, has to be better.
Because he has a son. He has Ev, the most perfect little human he’s ever seen, with his wild hair and his big brown eyes, his perfect smile and contagious laugh. He wants to be better for him, every single day. His mind still fights him sometimes, but he thinks he’s winning. Hopes he is.
Kaladin scoops the now freshly-clean baby out of the basin and wraps him in a towel, then takes him out to the living area while Shallan and Adolin change out of their sopping wet clothes. Laying Ev gently on the couch, he wraps a clean cloth diaper around him, then lifts him back into his arms so Kaladin can turn and settle himself into the soft cushions.
He props Ev up on his thighs, the four-month old’s chubby legs attempting and failing to hold his own weight, knees buckling, but Ev’s not discouraged at all. He laughs and lurches forward, trying to grab at Kaladin’s hair with tiny fingers shiny with saliva. He’s successful, latching onto a dark lock, and Kaladin winces, attempting to free himself with one hand as Ev screams with delight and tries to eat his hair.
“Why is it always the hair, Bud?” Kaladin asks woefully as Ev babbles happily, waving his spit-sticky fists in the air and pulling at Kaladin’s scalp sharply.
“Your hair must be pretty tasty,” Syl comments, sitting down next to him. He swears he can feel the couch dip slightly as she does.
“I highly doubt that,” Kaladin says, gently tugging at the strand until it slips free. It’s damp, which is gross, but he just tucks it behind his ear and smiles at Ev, who tries to headbutt him.
“Whoa there,” he says, and Ev giggles.
“He looks like you,” Syl says, not for the first time, leaning to put her face right next to Kaladin’s. Ev reaches for her and she sticks her tongue out, earning another laugh and several laughterspren, which draw Ev’s attention immediately.
“That’s a compliment,” Adolin says, leaning over the couch to kiss Kaladin on the cheek. Kaladin raises his eyebrows comically at Ev, who is once again going for Kaladin’s hair. The baby giggles, making Kaladin smile.
“Aunt Navani asked if we can do dinner tomorrow night,” Adolin calls as he walks back into the bedroom, presumably to put on socks; Adolin always complains that his toes get cold on the stone. Kaladin, on the other hand, thinks the coolness feels nice on his feet and prefers to walk barefoot around the apartment.
“Just us?” Kaladin asks, craning his neck to look at the bedroom door where Adolin disappeared.
“No, Renarin and Rlain will be there, and she asked if your parents wanted to join, too. She said they’re welcome to bring Oroden.”
Kaladin turns and smiles at Ev. “She wants to have a playdate, Rockbud,” he tells him. Ev babbles and Kaladin nods seriously, eyes wide. “Mhm. You and Oroden and Gav. You remember Gav?”
Ev sees Oroden all the time, since Kaladin has started working in the clinic again and he’ll often bring Ev with him at his mother’s request. She says he keeps her entertained when she gets bored doing paperwork. It’s a silly excuse, because she could just bring her own toddler to work if she really needed the distraction, but Kaladin knows this is obviously just a special thing between her and her grandson, so he lets her get away with it.
Usually on those days he’ll go back to his parents’ for dinner, and Ev and Oroden will pal around on the rug, Ev significantly less mobile but no less enthusiastic. The amount of drool he’s had to wipe off those toy horses is shocking.
They haven’t seen Gav in a few weeks, though, so it stands to reason that Ev has completely forgotten about his cousin, as young children will do if something is out of sight for more than thirty seconds.
Ev seems perfectly happy with the idea of a playdate so Kaladin nods at Adolin when he reenters the room with fuzzy blue socks on his feet. Shallan follows, her own feet slippered, and comes over to steal Ev away from Kaladin, lifting him up into the air to his great delight.
Adolin circles the couch, blocking Kaladin’s view. Before Kaladin can push him aside, though, Adolin reaches out and tilts his chin up with two fingers, leaning down to give him a soft kiss.
Adolin pulls away with a besotted smile, eyes stunningly blue, and murmurs, “I love you.”
Kaladin leans up just enough to capture his lips again, pressing them gently together for a long moment before separating.
“I love you too,” he says. He smiles.
This is real. This is his.
It’s not going anywhere.