Chapter Text
"The Dustbringers were halted there, for their forces were limited in fully sworn Radiants. Many bonded spren saw fit to limit Division to those who had sworn the Third Ideal, like the Skybreakers. While others allowed their emotions to fuel their Surges to even greater heights. Iron discipline was the template of their Oaths, but not all held to them with such strict doctrine." - Words of Radiance, Chapter 22, page 4.
KALADIN left the king’s stormbunker exhausted, rubbing his eyes as Syl flitted around his shoulders. His captain’s coat hanging limply off his depleted figure, and a day’s stubble itched at his jawline. His freedom should have been simple. The return to army life, an easy thing to grasp. However, he’d never been an officer in Amaram’s army, and he’d never had such a heavy set of responsibilities. Guarding a king, a highprince, and their family. One family member in particular proved more difficult than most, somehow being more difficult to keep track of than the princling, Adolin.
That man stood leaning against a stone pillar now, just outside the doorway. And storms, he looked even more tired than Kaladin felt. Aroden’s stubble looked more like a short beard than midday shadow, and his storm-blue eyes stared out into some middle distance. After a meeting regarding the state of the Kholin army following the disaster at the Tower, it appeared the man had intended to say something to Dalinar, before standing suddenly and coming out here. Kaladin hesitated for a moment, before remembering to snap a crisp salute. This man was in theory a superior officer, even if his current rank was…muddy at best. He thought him somewhere between an Infantrylord and a General, though he himself was in theory a Brightlord of his own making, claiming the old branch of House Kholin’s lands before they’d settled in Kholinar. Light-eyed politics and preening, all of it. But Kaladin knew better than to stick his nose in that chasm for the time being.
“You’ve been disappearing more frequently, Brightlord, and avoiding the guards I’ve posted on you. If I may. The Assassin-in-White is still out there, and doubtless, the parshendi still want your head for the beating you helped deliver to them. Your weapons are valuable, and you alone have the expertise to produce them.” Kaladin said deferentially, eyes flickering to the ground exactly once before meeting Aroden’s again.
A pair of middle-dahn officers walked past them brusquely, giving Kaladin the barest nods of respect, and ignoring Aroden entirely. The quiet din of the Pinnacle echoed around them. Officers and porters milling about between assignments.
“I think we both know I’m more than capable of handling a few parshendi assassins, Captain.” Aroden replied quietly, turning to cross his arms and regard him with a closed expression.
“I…I don’t think it would be wise to rely on tricks, sir.” Kaladin responded, clasping his arms behind his back. Syl flitted away, nothing more than a glowing speck near his right shoulder. She’d been…cagey, lately. And was especially hesitant to materialize in meetings when the Brightlord was present, even if she knew Kaladin was the only one who could see him. She’d said something about refusing to stay in the same room as that kind of spren.
“It's not a trick we use though, is it? I killed a dozen Parshendi at a time with the snap of a finger. A power you…may be familiar with. Which Order?” Aroden asked, cocking his head to one side as he gave him a small smirk.
“Order?”
I don’t care what I’m a part of. Order or no. I just want to keep my men safe. And Syl.
“Yes, Order. I’m a Dustbringer, naturally, I heard about your leap across the chasm, though I was preoccupied and unable to witness it in person. So, are you a Skybreaker or Windrunner then? And why the secrecy? Dalinar would make you a third dahn and a Highmarshall if you revealed your nature.” Aroden continued, fiddling with the sleeve of his coat, now lined with black cloth at the cuff. The Smoke and Flame glyphs at his sleeve designating him as a member of the branch of Dalinar’s army that dealt exclusively with the explosive weapons he’d designed.
“I’d venture to guess it's a similar reason to why you haven’t revealed yourself, sir.” Kaladin whispered. Staring down the other man and taking a step closer.
Aroden looked up, somehow appearing more exhausted than before. Kaladin could see dark circles around the man’s eyes before he gave him a weary smile, with just a bit too much teeth.
“Yes…my brother can be many things. But…his judgement can be overwhelming. I…thought I was alone for years. I wanted to prove myself eventually. But…its that unnatural fear, isn’t it? To think someone can take what is precious to you. Even if you know it is impossible.”
I don’t just think it. I know it. Amaram took everything from me.
“That’s part of it, yes. But your family will be better protected if the Assassin-in-White doesn't know what guards them.” He lied, swallowing a grimace even as he said it.
This was a man who had inadvertently saved dozens of bridgeman lives with his weapons. Towards the end, before their liberation, runs spent running the cannons alongside borrowed Kholin troops had been safer than bridges ever had been. The men in blue and black had been kind, understanding, and freely shared their provisions with them during rests. Furthermore, the times Kaladin had seen Aroden, he’d shown them something close to respect. He likely did deserve honesty. But the only light-eyes he knew he could truly trust to keep his word at this moment was Dalinar.
“Well…I don’t feel comfortable disclosing my nature at this time either, Captain. When you do, we should do it together, and probably just to Dalinar. In the meantime, perhaps we could train in secret. Abrasion came to me quite quickly, but Division continues to prove troublesome. And doubtless we’d better protect the others if we knew each other’s abilities.” Aroden said, head inclined in offering.
“I’ve been too busy rebuilding a royal guard and dodging Parshendi arrows to get much practice with mine, I’m afraid.” Kaladin responded, nodding his head and starting to walk away, kicking up crem dust with each footfall. He’d hoped that would be the end of it, but the storming light-eyes followed him.
“The truth then, I…I’ve failed my family. As I always do. And…knowing there’s someone else? Someone who could be better than me? It helps to know I don’t bear this burden alone.” Aroden had crossed the distance between them quickly, and Kal realized he’d grabbed the sleeve of his uniform coat. Storm blue eyes bore into him, seeking…something. Understanding maybe? Solace? What did a light-eyes need any of those things for? Least of all from a dark-eyed spearman.
Kaladin realized exactly where they were then. Right in the middle of the storming main pathway to the Pinnacle. Light-eyed officers and marching bridgemen had to walk to one side or the other to get past them. Yet clearly, this man was so hurt in a way he couldn’t fathom, that he didn’t care about the impropriety.
Kaladin hated the fact that he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“I’ve failed too many men to count. Brightlord. It weighs on you, every single one. If I find a way to ease my own conscience, I’ll let you know.” He said cooly, gently peeling Aroden’s fingers off his sleeve.
He stepped away, back towards the barracks, breathing a sigh of relief before the Brightlord spoke a final time.
“Just Aroden. I never cared for titles. Every man I’ve trusted called me by my name alone.”
That wasn’t right. Light-eyes were supposed to be smug and superior, throwing away dark-eyed lives like they were nothing. Or at the very least worth three emerald broams. He trusted Dalinar in as much as he’d freed his men, and held true to his word to this point. But trusting another light-eyes? Especially this man, who commanded weapons so powerful they’d already made entire ways of fighting irrelevant?
“Aroden…yes, when I can find a spare moment…I prefer to train in the chasms.”
Aroden sat quietly outside the meeting room for an hour after his discussion with the Captain, then a few minutes more. He suspected that he was free to simply walk in unannounced, but found it impossible to do so.
He calls me brother…for the first time in years. And I greet him with failure.
A deeply personal failure. That was the worst of it. How could he even begin to explain? Dalinar’s boon, as near as he could tell, had been specifically to forget her, and Aroden had lied to himself for years that she still lived. To add insult to injury, he had no idea of Danlan Morakotha’s current whereabouts. He’d discreetly set out scouts from his own forces, black-sleeves loyal to him alone, but she was long gone. Likely days down the road south to the Frostlands, or looping back north to Kholinar. Frantic, and then methodical searches of his quarters had revealed nothing. He didn’t even know which organization she was working for.
Does Gavilar’s organization still exist?
He found himself wondering, ducking his head as he sat hunched on a bench in the hall. Two ardents passed in grey robes, fleeting over the Soulcast stone floors, blessedly, neither of them stopped to sermonize or judge, though the female did give him a quizzical look before continuing on.
“You must master these wandering thoughts. I surmise doing so may improve your combat efficiency.” Ember whispered in his ear, his anthropomorphic form perched on his shoulder.
Aroden took a deep breath that smelled like soot and regret, standing and stretching his legs. There was nothing for it. He owed it to Dalinar to let him know, regardless of the consequences. He opened the heavy doors with both arms, and found…the chamber empty. For all save the king, who sat leaning on the balcony railing. He overlooked the warcamps with an unreadable expression before his body snapped quickly to the sound of the heavy hinges.
Elhokar looked…worried. Eyes bloodshot and obviously swallowing a grimace as Aroden paused at the entrance.
“Apologies, my king. I was looking for…for Dalinar.”
Dalinar. Not brother not yet.
The king raised a single eyebrow before stepping back inside, sinking into a chair and rubbing his eyes. From the balcony, the sounds of the warcamps echoed up from the crater below. Spearmen training. The occasional echoing boom of his men testing new loads for the cannons. Normalcy, or as near as there could be these days. A dull pang rang in his chest as he realized how much quieter it was. Thousands of dead had lessened House Kholin’s presence over the last weeks.
“He left a few minutes after you departed. Planning, he said, for Adolin’s next duel. My mother went with him. Though she wanted to speak to you at some point.” He took a small sip from a bronze cup beside him. Water, Aroden realized, instead of his usual wine. “It appears most of my family is content to make these decisions without my consent, or input.”
Aroden simply looked at the king’s hunched figure for a long moment. He was certainly not one to give inspiring speeches, and didn’t feel the picture of confidence himself at this moment. He found himself sitting down anyway, within arms reach of the king, simply present in the moment. Slowly, he reached for the pitcher, pouring himself a small glass of water and taking a sip. The liquid was refreshing, quenching a dry palette and making him realize he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a full meal sitting down. Before the Tower, certainly. He leaned back in the wooden chair and sighed.
“I…know something about awkwardness in familial relations.” Aroden offered weakly, mentioning Dalinar and Navani’s public courtship in the most delicate way he could. “Doubtless you heard the rumors, back in Kholinar, and here. Likely started again by Sadeas after I spurned him.”
Elhokar looked up, a hand fiddling with a piece of parchment on the oak desk. “Heh…it must be a family tradition of ours…desiring a brother’s wife. I never believed those rumors. In truth…I’m glad you had a friend in her while you did. Almighty knows…I did a horrible job of being your brother.” He finished with a quiet chuckle.
“Yes…you did, nephew.” Aroden teased, a small smirk crossing his face. “I never blamed you for it. You were the heir to a throne , while I inherited…what? A spit of land more rock than crem, three days ride from Kholinar? A few hovels? And the honor of knowing I was a stain on my father’s honor. Didn’t help that I spent more time coming up in the libraries than the training yard.”
Their age had always been an oddity. Ekholar’s and Jasnah’s both. He’d spent most of his youth on the Kholin family’s traditional estates, where their father had been quietly relegated after his injury. He’d only come to Kholinar in his gangly teenage years, and by then, distance and time had made Gavilar’s children strangers. He was certainly not someone either would care to look up to. Jasnah had ignored him since the day he arrived, and Elhokar had been cool—longing for Gavilar’s favor more than he wanted friendship with a bastard.
“Still…it was ill done. I’ve thought about our discussion quite a lot. From that night in the feasting basin. I want to be a good king. Better than my father. I want to pass on a whole kingdom to my son.”
Aroden drained his cup, pouring himself another, and suddenly wishing it was something stronger. An odd impulse he hadn’t lost, despite the Ideal he’d sworn a few days ago. He grasped the cup too tightly instead.
“The fact that you wish to be? Makes you a better king than Gavliar already. His charisma is what united the highprinces I think…and the threat of another…you know.” He trailed off, eyes in that same familiar middle distance. Odd, that when he thought of the Rift, he could still feel the flames. His grasp tightened over nothing, remembering the feeling of his palm prints melting off.
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt becoming familiar with my own nation. Its own laws and customs.” Elhokar said with his own smirk, reaching out suddenly to grasp Aroden’s hand. “After all, I’ve a Highprince of Justice who could truly teach me the Codes…if you wish it.”
A whole chull cart could have been driven through the silence that followed. Aroden swallowed harshly, eyes flicking to Ember’s current form, a single mote of ash near the chamber’s ceiling. He didn’t much know himself these days, and certainly didn’t feel confident in his shifting roll. He’d failed his family bitterly, himself, and even the memory of a woman he’d loved. But Elhokar’s hopeful gaze. So much like Gavilar’s—the brother who at one point anyway—had cared, and he answered with confidence that surprised even himself.
“Yes. I’ve got a copy of the Codes back in my chambers…we’ll begin tomorrow..”
Ekholar gave him a true smile, one that reached his eyes, one that Aroden eagerly returned.
The march to Dalinar’s chambers was the longest Aroden had ever made. Windsinger was dead. A dull loss that ached painfully whenever his thoughts turned to the poor creature. He hadn’t even been there when she’d died, and did not know the manner in which she’d passed on.
Another part of Evi gone, perhaps the last part.
She had been her horse. A poor choice for a mounted fight in truth, but a sacrifice he’d happily made, unconsciously at least, to keep a part of her close. Dalinar sat behind his own desk, obviously trying to focus as Navani read him the latest casualty reports. Always growing longer these days. Those most severely injured were finally passing of wounds that had festered, and many more had been maimed by Parshendi attackers and thus could no longer return to frontline duty.
Navani sat up first, giving him a glare that could have cut glass, slowly folding her writing tablet shut, one hand resting atop the other, her safe hand sleeve covering both. Dalinar looked up next. Aroden didn’t see judgement in his eyes, but his blue eyes made it clear he had little patience in them. This wasn’t the Blackthorn…but in some ways it was worse. The judgemental brother from his youth, who thought him a pitiable creature at the best of times, and The Stain on House Kholin’s honor at the worst.
“Breathe. In and out. These things tend to work out better if both parties remain calm.”
Ember whispered in his mind, settling as a hazy wisp of smoke near the window in the corner.
“Danlan Morakotha has been suspiciously absent from my team of scribes, Aroden. Her father writes via spanreed nearly every day at this point—” Navani started, when Aroden interrupted.
“She was a spy. For which party I don’t know.” Aroden said, perhaps a little too loudly. He stepped closer, but did not sit. He kept the chair between himself and Dalinar, not leaning or relaxing. Merely keeping a steady distance between them. He wouldn’t lower himself, and allow his brother to tower over him.
“And what would make you think that, brother?” Dalinar finally said, steepling his fingers on the desktop.
She disguised herself as your wife, in part. She used me to gather information that would mark you as insane.
“Copious questions about my weapons. Troop deployments…and insinuations that with rumors of your mental state…Alethkar would be better served with myself as highprince.” A partial lie. One that sat bitterly on his tongue. The final point had been Sadeas’ suggestion. Only, he found that he couldn’t reveal his true disgrace now. Not when, he realized, Dalinar couldn’t remember Evi in the slightest anyway. He ignored the little whisper in his mind telling him that was the easy way out.”She also attempted to seduce me. I surmised she was either attempting to improve Morakotha standing, or working for a third party. Unfortunately, she fled before I could act on my suspicions. She…may have stolen or copied documentation from your own chambers as well.”
Silence stretched in the room for a long moment, each of them processing the implications before Navani spoke carefully.
“Doubtless, she’s well into the Frostlands by now. We’ll send out more patrols as we are able, discreetly, and hope she doesn’t possess a spanreed of her own. In the meantime…Aroden, did you sleep with her?”
Aroden’s eyes widened, coughing in alarm.
“I don’t mean it as a question of judgement, only that…if she claims to be with child. It would have a claim, however weak, on House Kholin’s lands.” She continued carefully, setting her tablet down on the desk with finality.
A bastard…I may have fathered a bastard. Like me.
He nodded once, silently and closing his eyes. His breath caught hard in his chest. Another child, black of hair with storm blue eyes, always being judged for circumstances beyond their control. Always seen as a weakness of passion. He found himself…praying that it was not to be. Perhaps the first time he’d ever done so. His eyes remained shut. When he opened them, he realized that Dalinar had stood, and was moving the chair from between them, grasping him by both shoulders.
“If we were all judged by our weakest moments…well. I don’t know where we would be. All of us in Braize, certainly, and not the Emerald Halls when we pass.” Dalinar said, patting Aroden on the shoulder.
Aroden froze, locked up tight as his eyes locked forward and tried not to flinch. His eyes snapped to Dalinar’s as he took a hesitant step back. Recognition bloomed in Dalinar’s features as he realized he had overstepped, releasing his hold and grimacing.
“Nevertheless, you have my apologies. For all of it.” He rasped, stepping back and nodding once. A jerking motion that made his uniform collar catch against his stubble.
“We’ll keep it quiet. You’ll retain your position. I believe you were injured when she first arrived, yes? Addled in the mind. It stands to reason that she took advantage. For your sake, and our house. I know you wouldn’t intentionally betray us, Aroden.” Dalinar finished, stepping back around the desk with a quiet sigh. “Go, see to your men. Apparently some of the bridge crews are interested in becoming engineers. Also, in speaking with Elhokar, you’ll have no more issues in your Soulcasting requisitions. We’ll need your firepower to make up for the men we’ve lost in the battles to come.”
Sensing the dismissal, Aroden gave a shaky bow, turning to leave the room. He swallowed another unspoken truth. One he realized he hadn’t wanted to admit, even to himself.
He had been willing to side with Sadeas.
He had wanted the true Kholin standard to fly over his own forces.
And in his heart, he damned himself for it.