Part 2: Days Finally, Return

by ibeeHu

Summary:

Updated 5/9
Another Oath- Part 5 of 5
Finale of Part II of Heaven and Hell

Short sex scene (finally..)
Navani speaks with a familiar person.
Adolin realizes a terrible secret.
Lift is awesome at listening.
Kaladin has a moral dilemma.
Jasnah utilizes all her skills.

Part 2: Days finally, return
In-book Timeline - 100%!
What does love look like after three decades of longing? (Brakes off)
Most chapters have a sex/sexy scene.

Chapter 1: Interlude-I (M)

Summary:

Continued from Part I Prologue

Adolin/Shallan meet at a Tavern
Who doesn't like hats?
A shocking revelation

They agreed to meet at Adolin’s favorite winehouse/tavern, Jez’s Duty, still located in the Ten Rings. Kaladin would join them as well to help fill in awkward silences. A desperate request from the highprince considering the bridgeboy’s social disinclination.

Adolin arrived first alone. Most of the bar staff had changed in the past two years, and he wasn’t familiar with anyone, having shunned most social events, except for the occasional drink with his men. A few people bowed to the General when he entered; but no one cheered or raised cups. Still, he was in a happy mood and so he flashed his brightest grin at the barmaid. With his beard shorn, he was even more striking than before, his face more chiseled and refined with age. One of the women practically swooned.

“What I can get you, General?” she said blushingly brightly.

“Something violet please.”

“Expecting, company?” she asked, curious if company was work or pleasure. Fact was, the highprince’s marital status was not understood by the public. His wife hadn’t been seen in the past two years, and it was assumed by many that she had run off with another man. Or woman. In any case, it implied Adolin was a free man to pursue or be pursued. Even when he had his ugly beard, this beautifully handsome and powerful Brightlord continued to attract more attention than he intended. An advantage of winning the social and genetic lottery.

 “My wife and my good friend,” the studly man answered. Maybe my best friend? Adolin reflected how his relationship with Kaladin had grown in the past two years for many reasons. The traumatic events following the loss of the Contest, his separation with his wife, the restoration of Stormlight and the treaty with the true spren. His friend was there with him throughout all these events. More than his own- estranged- wife. It would be difficult to imagine his life without his favorite and only bridgeboy.

“Oh, how lovely,” the barmaid answered, her smiled displaced quickly by disappointment. She hurried to the back of the bar, not to fetch his drink, but to spread the gossip. Urithiru’s most eligible bachelor was off the table. Again.

When the barmaid returned with the drink, Adolin decided to strike a conversation as he often did in the past. The problem was he barely knew this person, and well, he had only one topic on his mind. His natural charm could only carry forward so much.

 “Do you think I should have brought a gift?” he asked without waiting for a response. “We haven’t seen each other in two years. But she’s even more beautiful than I remembered.” The barmaid looked around the tavern for someone to come rescue her. “What should I say to her? Would it be weird if I tell her ‘I still love you’? Is that too forward?” he droned on. The serving woman was eventually freeed when her would-be rival arrived.

 Shallan strode in. Adolin took a deep breath, then stood up to greet his estranged wife, hoping she loved him, even if it could never be as much as he still loved her.

---

Kaladin had asked Syl to discreetly check in on the situation. He thought it better not to be present during their reunion. A third person in a lover’s quarrel would not result in a good outcome for anyone.  He waited nearby around the alley for her report. Ready to come to his friend’s aid, if his heart were broken. Again. He sympathized with both parties though. Shallan was barely eighteen when she married Adolin, an arranged marriage no less. There was no doubt that they had loved each other.

But he keenly understood the need for freedom, the thirst for adventure. Marriage to a highprince, running a princedom, and raising a family would have taken it away. He recalled how it felt when he lost his ability to fly- it completely devastated him. And Adolin objectively was one of the most truly honorable persons Kaladin has ever known. He deserved to be happy.

Syl, currently only visible to Kaladin, zipped back from the tavern changing her form from a ribbon of light to uniform, a scout’s uniform of course, before landing onto the former bridgeman’s shoulder.

“How goes it?” Stormblessed asked.

The Ancient Daughter shook her head. “Remember that time Hobber needed someone to look after his pet axehound, and I volunteered us for you?” Kadalin wrinkled his nose at the memory. His eager spren-friend continued, “I was worried Scarp needed to go to the vet because he waited at the entrance and kept looking at the door every few minutes.

“The sound of her whimpering still haunts me… That bad?” the bridgeman said. If Syl, who was far from an authority on romance, understood how pitiful Adolin was behaving, Kaladin would have to find time in his schedule tonight and tomorrow morning, to console his friend.

“Maybe worse. He creeped out the barmaid, asking for relationship advice. She just arrived though, so I’m going to head back.” Syl transformed back to a ribbon of light and zipped away.

Kaladin thought, well at least he’ll get closure. Maybe he’ll move on. Though he had his doubts. Adolin, despite how he occasionally denied it, was still very much his father’s son. Both determined to obsessively love only one woman their entire life. It fit the Blackthorn’s profile as much as it did the Deadeye Savior. Their taste in women was almost identical except for the physical attributes. Smarter than them, curious and witty- eschewing foolish Alethi traditions. In an odd turn of events, between the two young men, Kaladin’s personal life was more stable now. Though the missions to Braize and Ashyn would undoubtedly stir trouble for all of them in some way.

---

“A glass of violet for me too,” Shallan requested from the waiter who was now serving them. “I thought Kal was going to be here?,” she asked her husband. Legally, they were still married. An annulment was too messy to pursue given the general chaos within the Vorin church prior to her departure.

“He said he would.” Adolin looked at the wooden tabletop at the circular pattern that moved like a ripple in a cistern. “Pattern, would you mind checking on him for us?”

“Mmm…” Pattern said with a familiar hum. “I sense he and his spren might be close by. I will return shortly.”

Shallan raised her knee in her chair, then casually draped her elbow over it. “If you wanted to talk alone, you could have just asked me.” She then held her chin with her gloved fingers, inspecting him closely with her bright blue eyes. “I wouldn’t have refused you.”

Adolin found himself wishing he could summon Maya to support him. The conversation with his wife felt like a duel, one in which he was likely to lose. He missed those sessions, talking to his former Blade before a match, though it was decidedly a one-sided conversation. Somehow without words, her presence always soothed him.

And next he realized he was staring, as his father had done with his aunt. Was the color of her hair always so brilliant? And her eyes? She wore her hair loose and had left the hat elsewhere. The fiery red waves cascaded across her shoulders, contrasting dramatically with her cobalt blue top. They both opened their mouths to speak at the same time but were interrupted by the arrival of their drinks.

“Two violets.” The waiter bowed. And an eerie silence followed despite plenty of other tavern patrons present. Even if they whispered, a scribe would have been able record every word in their conversation from across the room.

As she reached for her cup, Adolin grasped her hand. “Can we talk somewhere else? More private?” he asked.

He felt that what he really wanted to tell her would be better said in complete privacy. Coincidentally, she thought a private setting would be better too.

“Of course, dear,” Shallan answered with a smile. “But it’s blasphemous in some places to leave poured wine on the table.” She took a sip and downed the rest in one draught, ending with a satisfied, Ahh. “Let me know if you need help finishing yours?” she teased.

He did not. Though he needed all the help he could get, which included the alcohol for himself.

---

“We can head over to my place,” Shallan said as they exited.

“You have a place?”

“While I’m not opposed to roughing it outside, I do generally prefer the comfort of a room with my own bed,” she answered. Then added, “It’s only temporary.”

Temporary until you leave? Or temporary until you return home? To me?

Adolin found himself blushing throughout the conversation. The usually affable and expert casual conversationalist had transformed into a nervous tween hanging out with their crush. He was having trouble finding the right words.          

“Have you had to do that a lot? Rough it?”

“Somewhat. It’s all relative,” she said matter-of-factly.

They walked in awkward silence as Shallan led them towards the lifts, keeping to a proper distance apart.

The lift was empty, and the silence even more unnerving, so Adolin tried.

“I..I liked your hat.”

A clumsy start.

“Excuse me?”

“You had on a hat earlier. At the meeting.”

“Oh that. Well, keeping shade is very important. On some planets, the sun is downright murderous.”

“How many have you traveled to?”

“Four, not including here. But mostly stayed on two.”

“I’d like to hear about your adventures, when you have the time.”

“Actually, I’m thinking about writing a book. A spy novel. Under a pseudonym of course. Have to protect identities.”  She then grinned. “Maybe Kaladin can read it to you.”

That should had him laughing. But he was too storming nervous.  He blushed even more brightly at her smile. And instead, another awkward silence followed.    

A clumsy end.

---

They finally arrived at her place, which was in fact, the same one she had first moved into when they had first arrived Urithiru. The space had been turned into a rental room after she vacated it, not surprising as Sebarial remained its owner. The man never a lost opportunity to put money in his pocket.

“Sebarial’s renting out single rooms? I doubt Aunt Navani would have approved of this.”

“The queen has plenty of other things to worry about,” she said while turning the key. “But travelers need a place to stay too. Not every residence should be made permanent.”

It was clear the conversation was not going well, but still, he had to try.

“At least the door has been upgraded. Though I promise you my knocking skills have vastly improved,” he said as he closed and locked the door behind him.

As he turned back, suddenly, his back hit the door, and her fingers ran through his hair as she pulled his head down for a kiss. Her tongue pressed against his, but his body was frozen. He held his arms to the side, not wanting to start this right now. She gave up and pulled away, planting her heels back to the ground. But still pressed her body up against his.

“Shallan, I want to talk.”

“And you’re doing a fine job of it. But I thought I was the brains, and you were the muscle.”

 “I mean it. I want to have a discussion.” He put his hands on her shoulders and searched her eyes for reason. They were so blue. So beautiful. Bright and clever.

She then placed her hand over his crotch and held it there.

Leaning close, she asked in a low breathy voice, “Are you sure that’s all you want?”  And began to lightly kiss him across his perfectly sculpted jawline.  When she neared his ear, she whispered. “If we can’t agree on it, maybe you can keep talking. And I’ll be the muscle.” She began to stroke him through the fabric. Adolin gritted his teeth. He tried breathing. But he didn’t push her away.

“Shallan…”

So his words faltered and his resolve along with it. It’s been two years. Maybe he wasn’t a resilient as his father, but the difference was he already had a taste of it - the intimacy, the sex, and he desperately wanted to be with her in every way.

Adolin seized the back of her head and finally answered her kiss, tongue pressed up against hers. Passionspren cascaded around them like tiny fireworks. Shallan removed her hand and encircled her arms around his neck, pulling deeper into the kiss, while Adolin switched to her waist and back, tightening their embrace. Still kissing, hungrily devouring each other, he then lowered himself to lift her into his arms, and she encircled both legs around him. She’s small and lithe, and he’s a stereotypical Kholin, storming strong and hardy. He could have done it with just one arm. They continued kissing as he carried her over to the bed.

There they paused for the clothes to come off. Boots and socks were thrown off to the side. Adolin tore off his jacket, while Shallan worked on his shirt.

“You still know how to sew right?” she asked after a few buttons clanged onto the ground.

The tension finally broken; his nervousness peeled off the at the same time his shirt did.

“I’ll give you my answer, once we have an actual conversation,” he said with a smile.

She stared at his chiseled body, messy hair that never failed to deliver, beautiful face, signature goofy grin. And beyond all that, the most caring soul. The most gorgeous person she will ever know. Gorgeous in every way. And he truly loved her. Her plan might fail.

Back as the charming seductress, she said, “I see you are intent on punishing me then. You’re not going to be able talk or walk after I’m done with you. I may never get my answer.” And then she undid his belt.

 “If I’m not walking out of here, that means I’ll be your prisoner. That works for me if it means you’ll talk to me. But can I ask you now, why am I the only one getting naked?” he said as his trousers fell to the ground.

“I’m just verifying your identity. You know, typical spy stuff.” She motioned for him to turn around. And there it was - his birthmark, right behind his left thigh. His extremely muscular thigh next to his extremely sculpted gluts. Shit. She was going to fail.

“Working out?”

“Lifting weights in my spare time.”

She whistled. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

“She has red hair and blue eyes, and I really like her hat.”

“Sounds like a catch, but don’t you want…” An illusion began to flicker over her, changing her hair from red to dark. Tan skin…

“Shallan, stop. Please. I want to see you. The real you.” He took a step closer to her, placing his hands on her shirt and waited for her response.

She sighed, then lift her arms above her head, so he could pull the top off.

“You know some of us don’t have the spare time to lift weights,” she said as she then unfastened her own belt.

“You could grow an extra arm and I’d still love you.” Adolin fiddled with her top undergarment. He’d never seen this kind before and wasn’t sure how to unfasten it. “How does this work?”

“I’ll get to it. But I’d bet if that arm were growing out of my head, you’d run away scared.”

“No, I’d just have to find you a fancier hat.” She laughed. How he missed hearing it. How he missed their silly conversations.

“When did you develop a hat fetish?” she asked, as she undid her bra.

“Today,” he said concisely.

She was naked now as he was, and he took a moment to admire her – her delicate petite frame, now fuller all around, including her breasts and hips. The extra weight looked good on her more matured body, though she still retained that childish roundness to her face. Fiery red unruly hair. The softest lips. Beautiful whether two-armed or three-armed. Hat or no hat.

Shallan looked away as his eyes roamed with arms folded arms across herself.

“As you know, I don’t have any identifying birthmarks. But you could ask--”

“I could ask you about our first date?” He gently grasped her folded arm and pulled it to the side. “Or about the first time you told me you loved me?” And did the same with the other one. “Or about the time you farted and blamed it on me?”

She blushed of course. “You must have me mistaken for someone else. That was certainly not me.”

He then encircled his arms around her and held her tightly, “No, there is no one else, Shallan. And I don’t need to ask any questions. I know when it’s you.”

Adolin ran his fingers through her hair and pressed his mouth once more against hers. Cradling her head in one hand, still kissing, he scooped her up with his other arm and lifted her onto the bed. Shallan grasped his blonde and dark locks with both hands, relishing the feel of it between her fingers, recalling memories, wanting nothing more than to be with him. But she had a plan.

 Lying on top of her, he whispered, his breath hot and heavy, “Tell me what you want, Shallan. Tell me what you need.” He continued kissing her along her face and neck while groping her breasts.

“I want…” She practiced her breathing as he had once taught her, as he continued touching her. “I want...” She stopped his motions, taking his face in both hands, so she could look at him directly. Staring at each other full of lust, she said, “I want you to stop talking and fuck me already.”

The curse word took him by surprise. He had never heard her use that word before, in that way. Though, Adolin wasn’t brilliant like her, he wasn’t dumb either. He knew this was a trap, and her words and actions were intentional. But he wasn’t going to give up on them. His resolve was often as strong as his father’s.

Wordlessly, he reached down to guide himself into her. He entered her carefully, trying to read her reaction, but her eyes were closed, brow furrowed, as if she were concentrating. Wordlessly, he pushed into her, and she tilted her pelvis, raising her knees to take him in fully. When he did, she gasped, and he lowered himself to kiss her, but she placed her palms on his chest to stop him.

Taking in a few deep breaths, she reopened her eyes and said, “On your knees. I want to admire those muscles. And I want to watch you while you fuck me.” Wordlessly, he grimaced ever so slightly at her curse again, but it didn’t stop him. The angle was terrible, so he lifted her hips up to him, which startled her. And then, he began moving.

“Adolin!” she cried out. Fuck it felt good. And he was barely doing anything, just gently rocking, holding her with both hands by her hips, pushing into her. Leering at her. Pressing inside her, in just the right spot. And then it happened as it often had. Shallan threw out illusions when she got closer to her climax.

The first time was on their wedding night. She had never otherwise been able to get there on her own. Dozens of images of him in various poses, scaled to the size of a sheet of paper, appeared, clothed and unclothed with a few images of them together, in ways they had never been. Her fantasies, her desires in full view. Fortunately, he had been more astonished than shocked, and it had not interrupted his motions. She hadn’t believed him at first, as her eyes had been closed. But then she saw it for herself soon enough, when they went at it again.

The illusions now in front of Adolin were more realistic than ever. Her skills had greatly improved. The figures moved, some spoke, others grunted and moaned. All of them engaged in some act with her. But none of them were him. Mostly men and women he did not know. With one exception.

He stopped.

“Why’d you stop, I was almost there,” she asked in a half-daze.

“You know why,” he said firmly, as he pulled her up, and at that same time it pushed him into her more deeply. She yelped. One hand held the back of her head while the other supported her back, her face now inches away from his. The images faded when her eyes opened and met his. They breathed for a moment together, desire still urging them on.

“Go ahead,” he said in a low voice. “Change me into the bridgeboy if that’s what you want.”  He kissed her lips. “If that’s what you need.” He sucked on her neck.

She caressed his head briefly, and he could feel her lips graze his forehead, but then she abruptly pushed him away completely. Sitting across on the bed from him, she closed her eyes and Stormlight misted gently around her. Adolin felt the illusion cast over him. Long black hair partly covered his eyes, lengthier arms, darker tanned skin. There was a substance to her illusions now. As if she had combined both surges and soulcasted the illusion to life. And he now inhabited the body of his good friend.

He looked at his unfamiliar hands for some time both astonished and shocked, while she stared back at him silently, wordlessly. Then, with those unfamiliar hands, he reached out to touch her, lighting tracing her cheekbones and jawline with long fingers. She did not recoil, but her body and face were frozen, rigid like porcelain. He leaned in and kissed her, but her lips did not part. He then tried laying her down and got kicked in an unpleasant location.

“Now that actually hurts…” he said in a strained voice, his own voice at least. The illusion had evaporated.

 “I’m…I’m sorry.” Hugging her knees to her chest, she hid her face.

He reached out again, with his own hands, and gently touched the back of her head. Then spoke to her softly, “Shallan, my love. My dear wife. Please stop this.”

I can’t, she thought. I don’t deserve to be any of those things. But her plan had failed, his love was too irresistible. She let herself slip. A little. The master Lightweaver lifted her head up but did not meet his eyes. Instead, she grasped his hand with both of hers. She admired its shape, noting the length of each finger, the outline of the green-blue veins, and traced the lines on his palm with her fingers. Then, she kissed it.

Adolin put his other arm around her and hugged her in an awkward embrace, her knees in between them. But he held her there for as long as she allowed.

Her plan might have failed, but like any good spy, she had a last means of escape, often desperate and likely to cause her harm.

After some time, she quietly said, “Let go of me. Please.”

He moved away from her and asked, “Can we talk now?”

“Nothing has changed since we last talked about us, Adolin. I’m not returning to Roshar. This is only temporary. We can finalize our separation now.”

“Married or not, I’d still love you. And maybe after this mission, I could go with you.”

“No, Adolin. Please don’t make me do that to you. This is your home.”

“I’ll make a new one with you, wherever you’d like.”

“You’re being foolish. There’s no way to make us work. We’ve already discussed this. I’m a spy. I can never have a home.”

“Will you at least let me love you, when you’re here?” He reached for her hand, but she withdrew.

“You know I’ve now been with more people than you have. It’ll happen again. I can’t always avoid—”

He grabbed for her hand this time and hugged it to his chest. “I know. I understood it before you left, and I accept that.”

She pulled her hand back and stood up from the bed.

“No, Adolin. You need to re-marry and have a legitimate heir. Renarin...” Renarin’s partner was Rlain a male singer.  “Renarin won’t be able to do it. Jasnah certainly isn’t. I’m not going to withhold that from your family.”

“Did you forget about Gavinor? He’s a Kholin too.”

Gavinor, Elhokar and Aesudan’s son, Gavilar and Navani’s grandson. Too young for others to comfortably ask if he had any preference.

“He’s not your father’s grandson.”

“No. He is our blood, no matter what they’ve said about him. He even looks like my father more than I do,” he said with conviction. “You’re using this as an excuse. Jasnah isn’t Dalinar’s daughter either. Adoption or surrogacy are options. But none of us care about that kind of legacy. Why can’t we just be happy, together?”

She walked towards the exit, still unclothed. Then spoke to him with her back turned, unable to face him. You must tell him the truth. Pattern had pleaded with her before the encounter.

But it hurts so much. And so, she switched to being a knife and said impassively, “I’m a murderer.”

He left the bed now too, to reach her. “It’s not that simple. You do what is necessary. Like we all do.”

“I..” her voice wavered, but she had to say it. She needed him to give up on her. And she knew this would work, and all she had to do was to accept this pain. Again. She deserved it.

“I…killed our baby, Adolin,” her voice and the spren that feasted on her betrayed her emotions. “I killed her.“ Agonypsren, upside-down faces carved from stone, twisted and faded in and out across her form.

“What?” Adolin stood still. He winced as the shockspren temporarily blinded him, yellow triangles flashing brightly before in the dark. “I don’t understand---"

“That’s the truth.” She turned her head slightly, enough that he could see tears rolling down her cheeks.  “You can’t be with me.” Her shaky hand found the doorknob. ”Please find someone else. Do that for me.” Wearing an illusion over herself, she then vanished.

He ran out of the room to chase her, though he remained unclothed.

“Shallan, wait!” But she disappeared into the crowd in her disguise.

People in the hallway shrieked and hands went over children’s eyes to preserve their innocence. Still, Adolin, lingered there, searching for her.

A older-looking officer in a Bridge Four uniform approached the stricken man.

“Son, you need to return to your quarters,” Skar said. “Whoever you are looking for is gone. And you are scaring the children.” A few of the onlookers, women and men, were ogling too. “And attracting too much attention,” he added.

---

Syl had left them alone just before they entered her room. As always, she was curious, but Kaladin had told her that it was disrespectful to spy on moments of privacy. She wasn’t sure what to report to Kaladin. The hat conversation in the lift could have gone better, but they were in the room for some time before she grew tired of waiting.

She transformed into an axheound wearing a tiny hat on her way back to her good friend. Humans always made things way too complicated. A pity. Wasting so much time, in their very short lives trying to work things out. And then she suddenly stopped, poofing back into her usual self. A petite woman only colored in shades of blue, small enough to fit into your palm. One day he’ll eventually die too. It then took about two seconds for her to shake off that worry. He’s still alive now and she shouldn’t waste any time moping. She should just enjoy it all while it lasts.

Notes:

It's heavily implied that Shallan will become a Worldhopper. I can't recall exact in line in RoW.
I'm crossing my fingers that Sanderson's doesn't just kill off Adolin to make it easier for her to leave. He has mentioned he hadn't really thought to develop him as a character.

Chapter 2: Miracles

Summary:

First half from the end of Word of Radiance- mostly Navani's perspective.
Battle of Narak
Finding Urithiru
My brother-in-law is a Bondsmith
Female problems
Gemheart

Notes:

Epigraph TBD
Will likely add 10 day count down once SA5 published

Navani picked up a large satchel filled with dozens of gruesome weapons or dozens of remarkable tools, depending on what would happen in the next few minutes.

Across the tarp from her, he pulled a messenger horse to a slippery stop and shouted through the rain, “Navani! I need a miracle!”    

Storming man! What does is it look like I’m doing?

She quickly cooled down her misplaced annoyance and instead simply shouted back, “Working on it!”

It truly wasn’t his fault she was feeling touchy. As an Alethi wife of a highprince, she had practically lived in the warcamps, but she had never been this close to the battlefront. To the screaming of men as they died. She was already moving as fast as she could.

“No time for working. Execute your plan. Now,” he said next.

And then she glared at him, if only for a moment. It was childish of her, she knew it. As their commander, it was entirely within his authority to treat her as he would any solider. But she had lived as a queen for decades and had grown too accustomed to being the one giving orders, with very few positioned above her. If it had been Gavilar, she would have simply bit her tongue. Though he wouldn’t have even asked for her help. More likely demand that she hand over her technology to his military men to adapt. Dalinar respected her and constantly sought her expertise in politics, scholarship and of course fabrials. Their cause required combining all their strengths. Who knows what she might have accomplished if her dead husband had fully supported her work during his lifetime? And now she was feeling cross with the brother for asking for her help to save them. For trusting her. For believing in her. Foolish old woman.

Navani waved workers away from her location and began shouting orders to her engineers. Rocks eventually fell into the chasms, and dozens of tarps jumped fifty feet into the area, held up by an invisible force, uncovering the improvised pavilions for the next phase of their attack.  

“Move!” Dalinar commanded. “Archers forward!”

As the archers ran into their positions, Navani saw the strained faces of those men up close, anxious and eager to aid their comrades, but powerless in the rain.

She was all too familiar with that feeling of helplessness. It clawed at her each time her men marched off to war. In fact, she had thrown herself into this very fabrial project after the Assassin had nearly succeeded in murdering one of them again. And all she could do was to get out of the way, run for cover, and pray for a miracle- which came in the form of a lowly dark-eyed former slave. She hadn’t known what to make of the captain whom Dalinar frequently spoke of with such admiration. And that was the night she resolved to like the lad, despite his disrespect for decorum. He seemed to have a knack for saving her men, including what he later did for Adolin at the dueling arena. Admittingly, there was a resemblance between the man she loved and the boy she tolerated. Poor manners and a tendency to brood. Though she could distinctly recall Dalinar laughing often in his youth. But for all her ability to create fantastical designs, Navani had a hard time picturing the young bridgeman’s face held in anything other than an angry scowl. It was as if all the pain and burdens of a middle-aged warrior had already been beaten into him.

She looked for the scowl she knew best, but even after she spotted him, it was too difficult to make out his features in the rain under the darkened sky. The fabrial floodlights were working, but they casted shadows as much as they brought light depending on where one stood. He had asked her for a miracle, and that was enough for her to understand his state of mind. Things were growing desperate. Men he knew, his comrades-in-arms were dying. She could not fail them.

Dalinar swung from his horse and jogged under one of the pavilions. Navani followed him, carrying the large sack over her shoulder. She then removed the water attractor fabrial from her bag and carefully placed it on the ground. A large glowing garnet was suspended within a delicate wire lacework. She required the dexterity of her fingers to make the fine adjustments, and so she wore a glove over her safehand. It worked well enough, though if there wasn’t a chance that the battle-hardened men around her would swoon at the sight of an uncovered left hand, she would have gone commando. Because there was a real chance that this new invention could cause harm if not configured correctly. As such, she had decided to see to it herself. No need to risk her engineers. They would be needed to fix the design if it didn’t work as planned. But she had to get it right. She could not fail them. She could not fail him. Especially now that she had finally acquired the ability to be useful – in battle.

After flipping a switch with her freehand, the machine turned on, and she took one step back. Then warned Dalinar with folded arms, “We really should have had more time to test this. Attractors are new inventions.”  She leaned in to better observe the device in action, then said, “I’m still half afraid this thing will suck the blood out of anyone who touches it.”

Before he could grab the back of her cloak and pull her away from the possibly blood-sucking creation, then scold her for shortening his lifespan by a few years, she gave him the miracle he asked for.

Water quickly started to pool around the thing, as the fabrial pulled moisture from the air. One miracle created through science, she thought. Delivered in full.

Roion’s archers began prepping their bows, and soon after arrows flew over the chasm into the Parenshdi forces surrounding their beleaguered comrades.

“Good,” Dalinar said, watching the arrows fly. “Very good.”

She stood up, smiled briefly at him, and saw the tension melt a little from his shoulders. He had told her that this could help significantly, but she knew its limitations and repeated them to him, as any adviser would.

“The rain and wind are still going to make aiming the arrows difficult,” Navani said. “And I don’t know how well the fabrials will work; with the front of the pavilions open, humidity is going to flood in constantly. We might run out of Stormlight after just a short time.”

Ultimately, she trusted him to make these decisions. Battle tactics were his domain.

“It’s enough,” Dalinar said as he pulled her close with one arm. A gesture more than that would have made his troops uncomfortable, and they needed their focus to avoid hitting their allies, so that was all she could expect. But he finally answered her previous smile with his own and told her, “You did well.”

He then called out, “Ready my horse!” Exchanging her for that beast of a horse of his.

She watched as the Blackthorn charged out of the pavilion towards the battlefield to aid in the retreat and save more men. Navani found herself thinking back to a recent memory. He never answered her question. And who would protect you?

---           

Not long after, the gigantic horse and his rider returned to the center plateau, and the latter quickly slipped inside the triage station. It was Storming dark. But even with her eyes closed, she swore she could sense that dark horse looming nearby, glaring at her.

She ignored the beast’s evil gaze and thundered into the tent. There, she saw the wound on his shoulder.

That shoulder? Again?

And then pushed down her anxiety, before stalking up to him to take him by his good side, pulling him close. She would have preferred a full embrace, if not a kiss- even a chaste one. But there were too many eyes watching. Too many men who needed to see him as their military leader.

“No reprimand?” Dalinar asked.
“We’re at war,” she whispered. “And we’re losing, aren’t we?”

“Yes.” He whispered too, so that the archers nearby wouldn’t hear.

“You rode to battle when someone needed you. You saved the lives of a highprince and his soldiers. Why would you expect anger from me?”

“Because you’re you,” he said softly. He then reached up with his good hand and ran his fingers through her hair. That made her even more nervous, as if he didn’t care to keep up appearances. This was grim. This might be their last moments together.

But she didn’t understand why. She wasn’t one of his generals, so she asked for clarification, and hoped his answers did not reflect his expression.

“Adolin has won his plateau,” Navani said. “The Parshendi there are scattered and routed. Aladar holds. Roion has failed, but we’re still evenly matched. So how are we losing? I can sense that we are, from your face, but I don’t see it.”

“An even match is a loss for us,” Dalinar said. “If they complete that song, then as Rlain warned, that is the end.”

---

Though he believed that the Almighty no longer truly existed, Dalinar wanted to thank whoever or whatever poured in an extra helping of stubbornness into the woman before him. If not for that, he would have had her stay in the warcamps, where it might have been safe. At the very least, she could have remained in the command tent, more protected and further away from enemy lines. Instead, she was here with him. Fighting alongside him. In the end.

As he ran his fingers through her wet hair, he noticed how dozens of tiny water droplets lifted from those strands and floating towards her attractor fabrial. It glowed on a little pedestal, collecting water around it in a shimmering globe. It looked magical. A shining crystal ball. Though she would insist it was simply the work of science. She had accomplished so much in such a short amount of time. “Seducing” him, hammering away his decades of guilt. She fought for them relentlessly, unbothered by rumors, by uncomfortable sons and nephews, by critics from the Vorin church, though she was a religious woman. They would never know a time of peace together. Or a touch beyond a kiss. Though perhaps he should take the blame for that.

Can this really be the end?

NO.

This can’t be the end. Not their end. Not yet.

As long as he breathed, he would continue fighting for her. For all of them.

---

Navani wasn’t sure what to make of the quick turn of his expression from a grim scowl to that wistful tender look as he stroked her hair. It now changed back into his usual resolve as he replaced his shirt and coat and stood up. He’ll likely want an update at the command tent. Her work in the battlefield was done, and so she’ll follow him until he orders her to leave.

Suddenly, Highprince Roion burst into the tent, interrupting Dalinar’s attempt to speak to her before he left. And of course, the hysterical man grabbed him by his bad arm. Navani hadn’t slapped anyone in a long time. Her hand itched.

Before she could do anything, Dalinar towed Roion outside. And then shortly after, the rain picked up and became a full-blown storm. Cold and unforgiving. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed. Dalinar shouted towards the sky at an entity who no one else could see or hear. Though their commander spoke words, they were not understood by any of them. The Stormfather’s presence clouded everyone else’s thoughts but for one emotion. Fear. They cowered before him. Some knelt or crouched. Others simply laid on the ground, cradling their heads in their hands. A futile attempt to shield themselves from the spren’s judgement.

 Navani who had trailed behind Dalinar, held onto the back of his uniform coat, half- kneeling. She could only make out his very last word, magnified by the silence that followed.

“Please…”

She pulled herself up to a stand, and finally embraced him from behind, taking him under both arms. Others were still recovering near the ground, and wouldn’t see them anyway.

He let out a great sigh, then broke her hug to turn to her.

“I’m going to the command tent. Follow me?”

“Where else would I go?” she answered fondly.

---

As they neared the command tent, it shuddered and ripped free in a burst of wind, and blew right past him, close enough to touch him.

“Fucking Stormfather,” Dalinar cursed under breath.

The bridgeman, Peet, had just informed them of two hightstorms set to collide. Things were dire. Nature and evil wanted to destroy them. Annihilate them. His curse was a friendly handshake in comparison.

Then the wind grew even more powerful, as if answering him back in petulance. “Storm it!” Dalinar said, turning his back against it. “I need an update!”

“Sir!” Commander Cael, head of the field command, jogged over with his wife Apara. “Aladar has won his plateau! Apara was just composing you a message.”

“Really?”

“Yes, sir,” Cael shouted against the wind and rain. “Highprince Aladar said the singing Parshendi went right down, letting him slaughter them. The rest broke and fled. Even with Roion’s plateau fallen, we’ve won the day!”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Dalinar shouted back. “Send orders immediately to Aladar, my son, and General Khal. There’s a plateau just to the southeast, perfectly round. I want all of our forces to move there to brace for an oncoming storm.”

“Yes, sir!” Cael said with a salute, fist to coat. His eyes then widened and with the other hand, he then pointed over Dalinar’s shoulder. “Sir, have you seen that?”

Dalinar looked toward the west where red lighting flashed in repeated blasts. The sky and clouds swirled in an enormous storm cell that was rapidly expanding outward. The Everstorm.

“Almighty above...” Navani whispered.

Nearby another tent shook as its stakes gradually became undone. “Leave the tents, Cael,” Dalinar said. “Get everyone moving. Now.”

 He turned to her and grabbed her by both shoulders, meeting her eyes and gave her his last order. “Navani, go to Brightness Shallan. Help her if you can.”

And so, she went with Cael without looking back. She was useless again- at least here- but she might be of use on the other plateau. They had lost. And they needed another miracle.

---

She had just completed crossing the bridge over to the next plateau with a squad of soldiers, her temporary guards, when she finally did turn to look back. She had half-expected him to have already reached them by now, riding that oversized horse, perhaps with his son in tow. Or that she might see him in the distance, pulling up the rear, ensuring that he save as many as he could.

Instead, she saw a glowing figure in the dark sky. His unmistakable form. If she did scream, she did not hear herself in the storm. She hugged one arm to her stomach, while the other covered her mouth, rain pelting down on her body more furiously than ever. Before she could order her guards to stop, she then saw it fly past her from the corner of her vision.

Another miracle.

It was difficult for her to recognize that figure, but somehow she knew. She had asked her people to investigate. If she was going to like him, she still needed to trust him. Leader of the longest surviving team of bridgemen. Survivor of a highstorm. A boy from a small farming town whose father was a surgeon. Someone who shouldn’t have qualified for even a footnote in the histories. A nobody. In that, they shared something in common. He fended off the Assassin and returned after falling into a chasm. He fought Shardbearers, unarmored. And a person could only be so lucky. Be so blessed.

From afar, she could see how Dalinar’s body now slowly floated back down from the sky after that magnificent bright blue flame connected with him. She regained her composure and moved away from the pathway extending from the bridge to sit on the ground, a healthy distance away from the cliff. The winds were stronger than ever. No point in tempting the Bastard. When they had made their way to the command tent, Dalinar had quickly explained to her that the entity he spoke to was indeed the Stormfather- the highstorm. And he was letting them all die.

Her clothes were already soaked through and through, and she was exhausted. It didn’t matter if she was standing, sitting or lying down. Nature had won. Shallan’s plateau was still further up ahead, but Navani lacked the confidence she could execute another miracle, especially in her state of mind. She’ll wait for him here.

Pulling her knees up close to her chest, shivering from the cold, she spoke to her guards, “Move on ahead. I’ll wait here.”

One of them spoke for the group, as if they had already agreed on the response. “Pardon your Brightness, but our orders come from the Brightlord. There is still some distance until we reach the southeast plateau. If we wait here, we will only add to the crowd and slow them down when they arrive."

Navani looked up at the young man speaking to her who had a mustache that had grown limp under the rain. Technically, their orders were to protect her. But there were no more enemies to route, just a god-like force trying to kill all of them. What could they do? Still, their explanation was logical. And in the end, what truly cemented her decision was the look they had in their eyes. Resolve. A sense of duty. Men trained by him to follow the Codes and never abandon their allies. Sitting on the wet ground, she reluctantly lifted her freehand up, and the young man grasped it to help her stand.

“We could carry you if—”

“I am not a fossil yet, son,” the dowager queen argued.

As they continued their escape to the last plateau, she did wonder if anyone made more practical boots for women to run under these conditions. Note to self, if the world does not end in the next hour, inquire about military men’s boot sizing. She had worn sturdy footwear, but still had to catch herself from slipping once or twice on the slick rocky surface. And then had to wave off the guard’s offer to be carried again. They were already set to cross the final plateau by that time.

Soon after they did, she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Aunt Navani!”

Tears immediately welled and fell down her cheeks, though it was impossible to tell under the wind and rain.

“Adolin!” She turned around and then said with shock and genuine concern, “What the fuck happened to your face?” And walked over. The guards stiffened at her word choice, though she thought she might have heard someone chuckle nearby on the increasingly crowded plateau.

The right side of the mostly blonde young man’s face was as beautiful as it normally was. And when he grinned back at her, Navani noted a striking resemblance to a young Dailnar, back when he was unburdened. Strange, that it never occurred to her before. Perhaps, only now because the other half of his face was a mess. But if anyone could pull off a dashing scar or even an eyepatch- it would be her nephew.

 “I’m just catching up to father’s injuries,” he joked. His betrothed’s odd sense of humor must have been rubbing off on him. Like a fine lithograph, as the artistically inclined scholar might have said.

Navani frowned, then asked, “Where is he?”

“He’s on Gallant, overseeing the rest of the retreat. He should be here soon.”

His aunt was never more grateful for that beastly horse. It was an intimidating animal, in large part because of its size, but that meant it was also freakishly fast. What really irked her about the species was that intense bond between a Rhyshadium and its rider. They only choose one, it’s been said. But how did the creature know?

Navani turned back to her guards to dismiss them, and almost bowed, but instead, put her fist to her chest and saluted them. It took them a moment or two to return the salute, which may have been directed to her nephew, who was their superior officer, but she didn’t care. She would see him again soon.

“Go to your betrothed, nephew. See if you can help her. She’s in the central building.”

“But, Aunt…” he started.

“I’ll make sure your father gets here safely.” She hugged him one more time and nudged him forward before he could say anything more.

Go to her Adolin while you’re still young. If she is the one, then don’t let her go.

And I’ll go to my…to my…to my…

My dead husband’s brother? My brother-in-law?

There really wasn’t a word in Alethi to describe, with the possessive, the person one was courting. That is until marriage was agreed on.

“My partner” was someone with whom you started a business selling shoes.

“My lover” suggested too much and too little. A fully clothed kissing session on the sofa didn’t seem to amount to that minimum requirement. And their relationship was no longer a closely guarded secret.

“My suitor” was close but implied there could be more than one, and she was available and seeking others. But there was only him, and there would never be anyone else, but him.

As he surged forward on top of that massive horse across the bridge, the word came to her.

My everything.

And then he and that animal walked right past her.

She thought she felt something slap her cheek, but it must have been the rain again. It did jolt her enough to act though, and she finally had the good sense to shout to get his attention, while she moved through the crowd after him.

“Dalinar!” she yelled.

He stopped and turned to look behind him, bracing the side of his chest with his good arm. It would be impossible to maneuver Gallant backwards and the crowd was growing thicker, so he got off the horse instead.

After he jumped off, she heard him.

“Fuck.”

She whispered, “We haven’t made it that far yet,” in her joyful state of near delirium, right as she found him doubled over by his horse. It didn’t seem like he had heard her anyway. From the way he looked he must have suffered more injuries aside from that shoulder.

---

Dalinar felt soft fingers touch the side of his face as he breathed through the pain of his broken ribs, jarred greatly by the dismount.

What was that about making it that far? It looked like there was an important building up ahead. She should have been inside there by now, closer to their last remaining hope. A final salvation. Part of him wanted to scold her for trailing behind, waiting for him. She might have even been able to help activate the portal. The storms would collide soon- and it wasn’t safe here out in the open. But in the end…

He finally straightened upright, ignoring his physical pain, and met her gaze. Light violet eyes brimming with happy tears. He then embraced her the best he could in this state, the wet clothing the only thing separating them this time. And kissed her under the storms. Oddly there was no one around them, most had either walked on ahead, and the next group was further back. Gallant’s size also provided a convenient visual shelter for them.

Together again, they moved towards the center, holding hands, with Dalinar supporting himself using Gallant’s bridle strap on the other side.

“You know, your brother kept his assassination attempts at least a decade apart. But you’ve nearly been killed three times in the less than three months we’ve been together.” She furrowed her brow. “I’m an old woman now, Dalinar. I am going to need a bit more time to recover!”

“It’s all just another competition. You know how we Alethi men are.”

“Well you are certainly winning.”

“Am I?” he smiled at her, though he walked with a slight limp. If only she had her painrial with her. Its current design was still too bulky for everyday wear. “But I am sorry to make you worry.”

Despite talking about his dead brother, Dalinar seemed at ease for once. He even cracked a joke. It was as if his guilt over his brother’s death had finally been lifted.

“I’ll schedule the next one in a decade or so,” he offered. “And we are not that old.”

“Would the Blackthorn in his twenties have suffered your injuries today?” she asked as they continued maneuvering through the sea of people, drenched in the rain.

“No. Because he would have been dead. A fool who wouldn’t know when to stand down and would have likely dragged others to their doom too.”

Navani pursed her lips at his gloomy reply, then squeezed his hand to reassure him. She was about to correct herself when he stated what she really wanted to hear. “But you’re right, I am not the fighter I used to be. With or without Blade or Plate. It’s time to finally stop being a fighter and a warlord.” She circled both her arms around his and hugged him closer, as the open space in the crowd ahead of them grew smaller and smaller.

Besieged by the freezing cold weather, they still felt a warmth, as if a beacon of light was shining through them, bringing them hope for a future.

And then…

The storms finally crashed together. Men and women crouched in fear, soggy and wet, hunkering down against the violent winds with hands over their heads. Everyone except the couple and his horse.

And finally…

Sunlight. A tower rising high above a cloudless blue sky.

The last miracle.

---

Urithiru. Their salvation. Their final miracle.

There were so many mysteries here to unlock, as long as age, exhaustion, setting up a full-scale refugee camp, and also celebrating the accomplishment of not dying didn’t interfere with the exploration.

At least she had an answer to her son’s whereabouts. Kaladin Stormblessed promised to retrieve him personally from Herdaz, once the chaos of the battle and its aftermath died down. It might be better for him to remain hidden for now anyway. But she might try some contacts via spanreed to check in on him later.    

On that first day, Dalinar had wanted to climb up the tower to see how many levels there were, up to the very top, but he was in no shape for that task. Even if he weren’t wounded, it looked like there were well over a hundred levels by her best estimate from the ground. The enormous ribbed tower was also high up in the mountains, above the clouds, and quite possibly above the storms. They will be able to verify that once the two storms, one heading eastward, the other westward, pass through.

It was cold even during light hours, and near freezing when the sun began to set, so they brought braziers over to warm those who couldn’t be moved, and the rest returned to the warcamps. A group of attendants for the wounded and a small regiment from Dalinar’s army remained. They couldn’t risk an unruly highprince getting funny ideas and claiming ownership of any part of the Tower. Navani asked her scholars to continue working out an organizational layout from what they had mapped so far, even if it meant alternating their sleep schedules through the night. It was critical to get this right from the start. Otherwise, the Everstorm would be the least of their worries. They’d have to deal with eternal civil unrest, accusations of unfairness and favoritism. Navani hated dealing with those kinds of politics. It seemed she was always wasting away her time handling disputes over border lines when she was queen. A good civil engineering plan could avoid a lot of headaches.

As they left through the Oathgates, she felt immense pride in seeing his banner, lit by firelight, flying against the background of a dark blue sky, echoing its very symbols. Tower and Crown. A fine placeholder for his return. A few had even called him, the King of Urithiru, which Dalinar quickly squashed. It felt like the title a warlord would have claimed upon arriving.

---

When they arrived back to the Plains, she asked to stay in his complex, since she had no one to return to at the palace. Furthermore, the king’s residence was also farther away and would waste more time on their return to the Oathgate the next day. Urithiru’s secrets were waiting for her. Some called the place a miracle. But Navani found herself growing tired of the frequent use of the word in recent days. A miracle was simply a mystery awaiting a scientific explanation. There were much more difficult things to explain in the world. For example, how he was able to resist her further advances, despite how often passionspren visited when all they did was kiss.

Staying overnight in his quarters was not a new experience. Navani scribed Dalinar’s visions which only occurred during the highstorms, and those phenomena didn’t pick a consistent time of day to arrive. There was a spare room for her on those occasions when it was too late to return. So, he agreed.

But he did not agree with her request to stay in his bedroom that night. At least not at first.

“I promise you I won’t sneak into your bed. But how is this different from the times I’ve scribed your visions in this room?” she asked.

“Because you are not doing that. Something is either right—

“Or wrong,” she finished for him, then folded her arms in characteristic frustration. “Yes, you’ve said before.” She was seated on the sofa next to the fire, a heating fabrial still tucked away in a corner in disuse. He had not yet converted this last hearth, but they were conserving Stormlight for the Oathgate transfers anyway.

Her hair was loose, and she wore a simple gown that covered her enough to be out in public. As far as he could tell, she had little to no makeup applied. Dressed for bed and not for seduction. But Storms, she was still so beautiful, especially her eyes as they reflected the glow of the flames. Even when angry. And perhaps more so. The temptation was there, but he was in no shape for anything to really happen anyway. In the end, as usual, it was the principle that held him back.

“You will be much more comfortable in your own room and bed,” he added.

His third brush with death and the near end of the world had not broken through the last wall. Even after the near evaporation of his guilt in coveting his brother’s widow, as he steadily realized how Gavilar never deserved her. It seemed Dalinar was staunchly committed to requiring marriage before sex, and they had already looked into that with very little success. As she was always the one advancing their relationship to the next stage- why not two or three decades into the future? The same room in separate beds.

She sighed, then reached out for his hand with both of hers, one safely in its safesleeve. “You would at least let me help you change your dressing, before you have me hauled away.” He placed his other hand on top of hers and nodded. A compromise.

She pulled back, partly satisfied. Then brushed her hair to one side, and lounged on the sofa, and said, “Well, you were the one who called me to your room in the first place, what did you want to discuss?”

He sat up straighter in his chair and managed to avoid wincing from the pain in his ribs, hoping that feeling less relaxed would help temper his desire. The curve of her neck teased at him. He caught glimpses of its outline, flickering from the light of the fire, even in that modest dress. So, he averted his gaze, like he often had, and stared into the hearth instead, regretting his compromise.

“The Stormfather told me he is both a spren and a god. But only a fragment of the Almighty.” She sat up a bit too, now more curious than irritated. “If I am to refound and lead the Knights Radiant, I will need to become one myself.”

“Dalinar, you don’t mean…”

“Stormblessed has informed me about the process to do it. Ideals, spoken as oaths, must be sworn to secure and progress with the bond.”

 Navani contemplated his plan, then frowned. “Are you sure this is wise? That monster almost got us all killed.”

“We need him on our side. The enemy has the Everstorm, and we need something just as powerful.”

“But bonding that thing? How…how will it change you? What if he refuses?”

“I don’t know entirely,” he admitted. “But if I succeed, I should be able to use Stormlight to heal my wounds. It would mean I’m less likely to be killed.”

“If he doesn’t kill you first,” she spat out, teary-eyed. Navani did not like this. The Stormfather reminded her of a stereotypical old Alethi man- curmudgeonly, entitled and at times inexplicably violent. He’d ask you to fetch his slippers, then throw them back at you if you brought him the wrong ones, even though he failed to specify the ones he wanted, all because you failed to read his mind.

She crossed her arms again. Dalinar got up from his chair and sat next to her on the sofa, and managed an arm around her shoulder, but found it too painful to twist his torso more than that. A full embrace would have to wait.

“I don’t think he will. He sent me those visions because he wants to help. He just needs the right encouragement.”

She looked at him and eyed him knowingly, then got up from the sofa, freed from his half-embrace. “When do you plan to do it?“

"Once I can reach the top of the tower. I think the Stormfather would be more responsive the closer I am to him. And what place better than the home of the Knights Radiant?”

He watched her as she walked across the room and pulled out medical supplies from a cabinet. Dalinar sat forward on the sofa and removed his shirt. The blood had just bled past the final wrap and did not stain through. Navani returned with a tray of items and placed them on the table. Standing in front of him, she began unwrapping the dressing.

“I suppose I should reveal to you that we likely found a way to get you there without exhausting yourself.”

“Really?” He looked up, but her eyes were focused on her task.

“It will have to be tested thoroughly before we allow anyone on it. But it appears to be a fabrial that functions like a lift.” Dressing undone, she inspected the wound. The stitching could have been neater, but speed at that time was more important than aesthetics. The skin, slightly red and puffed as expected. No unusual odor. Altogether, not bad enough for her add to her list of complaints. “Actually, I might need to borrow your captain and his anti-gravity powers. Even without anyone on it, if the lift falls hundreds of feet, it will cause a lot of damage.” She started to dab off the dried blood with a wet cloth, then paused, and asked impassively, not looking at him, “Do you think you’ll be able to fly?”

“Perhaps.” Truthfully, he wasn’t excited about that ability. Dalinar wasn’t afraid of heights. But something still unnerved him about being suspended in air, not feeling the ground beneath his feet. However, he had expected her to be much more enthusiastic about it. Flying seemed to suit her. A great new discovery. Brilliant violet eyes. Wide laughing grin. Hair tousled in the wind. Freedom. He reached out to touch her loose hair with his good hand. But before he could, she brushed it out of the way behind her shoulder.

“Navani…” he groaned.

“What?” she said absently, while applying Lister’s oil to the wound.

“You’re acting—”

“Very appropriately for a person you are only courting.”

He sighed, then stood up and hugged her tightly with a grunt and a half curse. This pain was preferable to her coldness. His hands cradled her head and shoulders to his chest.

“You are only the most important person in the world to me. There’s no one I love more than you. But I must do this. I must try. For all of us. Especially you.”

Despite the pungent smell of the medicine, she closed her eyes to magnify the other sensations. His touch, his warmth. And of course, his voice. Navani accepted his words. They vibrated into her, echoed deep within her. This was the most wonderful feeling in the world. This was better than sex.

“I’m sorry for acting foolish,” she said as she gently placed her hands on his back, then lifted her head up to look at him. “You’re in love with a selfish, stubborn old woman. And I’m in love with a man who wants to save the world.”

He moved one hand to caress her face. Passionspren needn’t bother to make their presence known. Though she was fully clothed, his chest was bare, and he felt her soft fingers against the small of his back. They had never been this close before. Only a single layer of fabric between them. His breath deepened and desire flared inside him. He began to lose himself in those beautiful violet eyes.

In that moment, as Navani met his gaze, she saw it there again. That intensity which had once frightened her so much when they were young and drove her away. But she was no longer afraid. She knew he would never harm her. And passion had brought them closer together. Passion welcomed their first kiss. Yet, there was something odd about how he was acting right now. He pulled her in tighter, despite his injuries, as if the pain had disappeared. And there seemed to be another glow in his eyes, not from the fire. He lowered his head to kiss her. And as much as she desired it herself, it didn’t seem right. Not at the moment.

Calmly and assuredly, Navani brought one hand in between them, then pressed her bare palm against the Blackthorn’s shoulder wound just as blood began to trickle from it. It didn’t pain him, but it was enough to snap him into awareness.

“You’re bleeding again," she said. "Good thing I’m very observant. One of my better qualities." And she gave him a smile. "Let’s finish this while I can still see without wearing glasses.”

Dalinar sat back down, feeling slightly nauseated. Maybe it was the smell of the oil. He stared ahead at the fire as Navani proceeded. She cleaned the blood off her hand with a cloth, then used another dressing to put pressure on the wound and waited to make sure the bleeding stopped. After reapplying the medicine, she finally rolled out a bandage over his wounded shoulder, across his chest, under the other arm, and secured it in place with a knot.

“There,” she said. Then, placed her hands on the sides of his face and kissed him on the forehead. “That will do until Stormlight fixes it - good as new,” she said cheerily.

Dalinar considered, if his plan did work, he will no longer need her to bind his wounds again. Progress for the better, right?

“Thank you, dearest.”

He replaced his shirt, while Navani collected and put away the supplies. But before she started for the door, he grasped her safehand through its sleeve.

“Please stay.”

She arched her eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “But you’re not sleeping on the sofa or on the ground.”

“Dalinar---”

“And neither am I. I know you won’t let me do that in my condition.”

Navani put her freehand on her hip, puzzled. “So, what are you proposing?”

“The bed is wide enough. We can make a border out of pillows and blankets.”

She smiled at her triumph, but she knew better. “That’s very kind, dear, but you are far too trusting of me. I’m unlikely to stay within my boundaries through the night, unless it’s a wall made of stone. You were right. I’ll return to my room. We both need a good rest for tomorrow.”

Then, she went up on toes and kissed him, neither demurely nor passionately. He still wanted more all the same.

And Navani was wrong about one more thing that night. In less than two weeks they’d both get what they want. Marriage and sex. And the sex is going to be amazing. Better than that loving embrace. Not because that also wasn’t darn wonderful. But because of another phenomena that will require some additional explanation.

---

Dalinar sucked in more Stormlight and felt his wound retreat.

Navani groaned, “You could have warned me before stabbing yourself in the stomach.”

“Why did you think I removed my shirt?” With a cloth, he wiped off the blood from his body, then from his dining knife.

“To show me your healed wound. Not to try and fatally end yourself,” she argued, while staring at his now pristine abdomen.

 “It seemed better to make a good show of it. Healing a flesh wound would be meager in comparison. I wanted to make sure you’d be confident that I can recover from something more substantial than that.”

“Trust me. I would have still been impressed. But didn’t that hurt?” She touched his untouched skin with her fingers and furrowed her brow.

“I’ve experienced worse.”

“How? I don’t recall that you’ve ever been disemboweled.”

He laughed as he started to replace his shirt. “A good kick to the gut can be much more painful than a stabbing. You are just going to have to trust me on that.”

Navani stopped her inspection and returned to sit in one of the many chairs in his temporary rooms, piled with an assortment of furniture. Sunlight still entered from the open balcony doors. She scooted her chair into its path to borrow its warmth. Urithiru was cold. It would take some time getting used to it.

“Can you at least please - not throw yourself off the Tower to prove anything more?" Her eyes lit up. "Unless…” 

“No. No flying.” She frowned ever so slightly. “The Stormfather called me a Bondsmith. One of the orders.”

She contemplated. “A smith forges. So forging bonds...uniting.”

“That was the second oath. I will unite instead of divide.” He pulled up a chair beside her and sat down. “And Renarin is a Truthwatcher.”

Her eyes lit up again. “Dalinar, that’s wonderful! I had wanted to check on him earlier. But he was at your Knights Radiant meeting. Did anyone else answer the call?”

“No just the four. Kaladin, Shallan, Renarin and me.” The couple looked at each other, thinking the same thing.

“Why not Adolin?" she said for them "He’s an exemplary knight already.”

“That’s what we had thought about Amaram.”

“I’ve never really liked him. Especially when he was trying to court Jasnah.”

“That’s because no one could ever be good enough for your daughter. Amaram otherwise had the perfect reputation.”

“And we should have been more suspicious of that. Even Jasnah isn’t perfect. But certainly, better than him though. She’s—” Her mask cracked again. It had been a few weeks since she had been given the news, but a mother grieves forever. He moved forward to console her, but she waved him away, and blinked away the tears. “I’m fine.” Composing herself, she took his hand as she prepared to leave. “Thank you for letting me know about your decision. Then letting me whine about it. And thank you for returning to me in one piece.” She let go of him, stood up and exited his rooms, walking away with hands clasped in front of her.

---

Navani roamed the hallways of Urithiru glancing at the unusual colors of its walls, but she wasn’t in the mood to investigate and map out the patterns. She would eventually escape her guards after she reached the large, cavernous hall at the ground level. Some had begun to call it the Breakaway. There, she had imagined a large central market with shops and restaurants attached to living quarters. Perfectly organized into ten neat rings.

She stopped in front of one of the tents her engineers were using for temporary storage until they could find a more suitable location for their equipment. 

“Gentlemen, I’ll be perfectly safe here on my own. There are more Kholin soliders present than actual people.”

“Brightness, our orders are to stay with you until your return to your quarters.”

Where there are other guards standing right outside my doors.

“The walk back there will only take a few minutes with the lift. Don’t make an old woman feel guilty about keeping you from your families.”

“Our fellow bridgemen are our families, ma’am. Er.. Brightness ma’am,” a rounder bridgeman said.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to discern their sincerity. Navani had expected Kaladin’s men to be less uptight than Dalinar’s about this sort of thing. She wondered briefly how Dalinar would do it- ditch his guards. But she was only a woman, the woman who their superior officer was courting.

Not ready for defeat, she tried again, relying on her own strengths.

“Too much time together can also strain relationships,” she suggested. But they continued standing there, straight and tall in their neat uniforms, making no indication they were going to move. “Brothers should occasionally enjoy time apart.” One of them cleared their throat but did not speak. Still not enough.

“Actually, I was too embarrassed to reveal this before. But it appears that I must. I really came here to inspect the broken fabrials. Unfortunately, I left my gloves back in the warcamps, and I cannot check on them properly with a sleeved hand.”

The bridgemen blushed almost immediately. All but one. Though, there was likely more than one explanation for that.

The blonde man spoke, “Brightness, we will respect your privacy and wait for you near the lifts. However, if we see anyone approaching this tent, we will return right away.”

“Thank you for your attentiveness.”

They saluted and finally left her alone.

As they walked away from her, she realized that she did not know any of their names. Perhaps, that’s better. Better not to get too attached.

She pulled the tent curtains wide open so she could take in the view and watch people from a distance. Her rooms would have given her the privacy she sought. But she didn’t want to feel locked up, and he’d likely come visit to check on her.

So, like her dead husband had often done, she sat by herself, lost in her thoughts, but with no Blade to summon and dismiss. Instead, she pulled out a small sketchbook from her pocket and began to draw and let her mind wander.

Why did she avoid his affection? Was it Alethi pride? Was she subconsciously playing another game?

Before she journeyed back to the Plains, she had considered what kind of man he had become. She expected a matured and finally sober Blackthorn- strong and decisive, passionate and honorable. And he was all that, but so much more. Gentle, thoughtful, caring - those unmasculine ideals- but she loved all of it. All of him. She had used his long-standing infatuation with her to win him back. But she was an aging beauty, who every day looked less and less like the woman he had fallen for decades ago. What more did she offer him now?

Navani sighed, then set down her sketchbook to inspect her mindless drawing. A rough outline of a tower, flanked on the sides with two figures, one in a Kholin uniform, the other in Plate, suspended in the air. She chuckled as she added tiny heart-shaped gloryspren around them. One had a dozen more than the other.

I offer my scholars and engineers. My fabrials. My political experience. My stubbornness and my whining. My greying hair. My sagging…

Shallan? What was she doing out so late? Unaccompanied?

While pondering and frowning, she saw her nephew’s betrothed walking across the Breakaway from afar. Navani stood up and waved at the young woman.

---

Shallan walked towards her possible future… aunt-in-law? It was too late to try and disguise herself, and she should really try not to waste any more Stormlight. It was late, and it seemed both of them were looking for a distraction. She needed to come up with an excuse.

“Child, what are you doing out so late? Where are your guards?” the older woman asked.

"I could ask you the same question,” she tried sternly, but then faltered. “Your Brightness,” she added.

Navani considered the young woman, a teenager actually, before her. She certainly acted braver than other young highladies would towards a woman of her station. Or was it more brazenly? A Radiant though. Untouchable. But she has yet to learn how to wield all her powers, Radiant and non-Radiant, to her advantage. Cunning without subtlety. Still a child after all.

“I’ll give you an opportunity to think of a proper excuse and will go first. These fabrials need to be fixed and I didn’t want my guards distracting me. Some are still quite uncomfortable with seeing a highlady sporting a glove,” she explained. “Which reminds me, are those men walking over now?”

Shallan nodded.

“Stand out there for me and make sure they get a good look at you. Then raise your safehand and point at it. Then shake your head.”

As the guards hurriedly turned around, Shallan asked, “What was that about?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll learn it eventually too. Now, it’s your turn.”

“Actually, I was looking for...” she blushed. ”Sanitary supplies. I forgot to bring them with me.”

This was a lie of course. A partial one. It was her time of the month, but of all the things she could have learned to Soulcast, she made sure she could create this item. Motherless with an ill-suited governess at the time hers began, the memory of her stained clothes still haunted her, along with the fear and embarrassment over her ignorance. She had kept it a secret, thinking she was diseased, until one of her brothers eventually figured it out, when the napkins she used failed to absorb the bleeding. For a long time, she stopped wearing light-colored dresses.

“You poor thing! Such bad timing. We’ve also been overworking you with the Oathgates,” Navani said, while gesturing for her to sit. “Did you find what you needed?”

“I did.” Shallan tucked her dress under her and sat on her heels on the stone floor “But it didn’t seem proper to have my guards following me asking every other woman if they had any to borrow, so I had dismissed them.”

“You know, in Alethkar, we have a public works program that provides free access to supplies to any woman. Jasnah had proposed it when she came of age. Even the warcamps are required to have a supplier for the officers’ wives, daughters, and their messengers,“ Navani said proudly.

“I have never heard of anything like that in Jah Keved. I can’t imagine the king would even entertain it. Jasnah truly was remarkable in so many ways. I really admired her,” Shallan said. She then saw how Navani’s smile faded, as they continued speaking about her deceased daughter, and so she tried to lighten the mood. “I don’t think she really liked me though.”

“Count yourself among many. However, the fact that she accepted you as her ward was a miracle. That means she tolerated you. And in that, count yourself among the few.” The smile briefly returned.

Shallan thought to herself, despite the remarkable physical resemblance between the two women, how they were so very different. The eyes gave it away. Both brilliant and passionate. But Jasnah’s were stern, piercing and commanding. More like her uncle, so probably like her father. Navani’s were mischievous, inquisitive and kind. Motherly? She’ll do a sketch and add them to her collection later.

An image of her own mother’s dead eyes flashed before her again.  Exhaustion, both physical and emotional, finally catching up to her, she began to weep. “I’m…I’m sorry again your Brightness, for failing her. Failing your daughter.”

Navani, reached over and hugged the motherless young woman, stroking her head, as she spoke to her. “Hush. I won’t hear of that again. And I’m sorry that I had implied it. There’s nothing more you could have done. You survived and continued Jasnah’s work. What you have done, saved all of us. Jasnah would be proud.”

Shallan hugged her back tightly, letting a mother’s warmth and words comfort her. “Thank you,” she said as she pulled away and wiped her tears using her safesleeve. “I’m going to head back and get some rest now.”

“Go on ahead, dear. I need to finish up here.”

As Shallan walked away, she noted a tall figure in uniform in the distance, and bowed respectfully, then made her way to the lifts.

---

Dalinar watched from afar as the two women chatted. There were more Kholin soldiers than people, so he had dismissed her guards, and informed them he would personally escort her back. He knew Navani had tricked them about needing to expose her safehand. She never went anywhere without a glove these days. And so after the guards left, he quietly went over to check on her. Then after Shallan passed by, he went back to the lifts to wait for her there.

---

“Dalinar, I know you can’t help it, but you really would make for a terrible spy. It might help if you’d loosen your posture. You’re a head taller than most. I saw you right before Shallan came over,” she said with a smile as she took one of his arms. “But thank you for letting me have time to myself.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she said. “How goes the training? Have you figured what other body parts you can maim and revive?”

“I was waiting for you to continue the experiment. Perhaps, after the highstorm recording tomorrow. You may have to sharpen your hairpins to make it easier on your hands.”

“I will take that suggestion, as my combat experience has been limited to the occasional slap.”

“Who have you slapped?” Dalinar asked inquisitively.

“Rude men," she answered. "Don’t get too overprotective dear, it’s been a long time. Those men are probably all dead by now. In some war or another.”

The lift arrived, before Dalinar could ask for names.

As they entered, Navani asked, “Do you think you could survive, if you were stabbed in the chest?”

“It would depend on the exact location and how quickly I could react. If I could remain conscious long enough to remove the object, I should be able to. Why?”

“Oh, just considering possibilities.”

He thought about it for a few moments. “Jasnah?”

 “We would have heard something by now though," she concluded. She then looked to him, narrowing her eyes. “Please don’t try and stab yourself in the heart without consulting me first.”

“Well as my heart belongs to you, I would need your permission anyway.”

 They were alone in the lift, so she hugged him then, and put her head to his chest, listening. ”You must take good care of it then, since you’re only borrowing it from me.”

 “I will.” He put his arms around her and kissed the top of head. “Please do the same for me, gemheart.”

Notes:

About the stabbing scene/convo at the end.
I felt it necessary to add a scene in which after he becomes a Radiant, Dalinar injures himself in front Navani to show how easy it was for him to recover- because when he allows himself to be stabbed in Thaylen City in Oathbringer- Navani is completely unphased. She actually smiles. It would make more sense if she's at least seen him become injured and healed before. Seeing someone getting bloodied and knifed into the chest should otherwise generate a visceral negative reaction.

Chapter 3: Oaths: Bound Together (M) (OB)

Summary:

Dalinar and Navani's Wedding Night
Three sections

Bound Together, Finally = after the wedding, reminiscing
Connection = the sex
Pillow and Blankets = next day, more sex

Notes:

(E)xplicitish sex scenes.

Epigraph TBD
10 day count down once SA5 published

OATHS: Bound Together, Finally

Dalinar rode down the fabrial lift with his new wife, returning to his, or rather, their chambers. His wife, he thought again. He should have only been grinning like a fool, but instead he felt exactly like one. Though his hands no longer shook, he was surprisingly nervous again. His face looked about as joyful as an axehound left outside during the Weeping.

 A lifetime ago, ten heartbeats summoned his Shardblade, placing a familiar comfort into the palm of his hand, easing his worries. Now, he reached out for something better. He lightly squeezed Navani’s safehand through its sleeve, and she turned to smile at him. So beautiful. He blushed like a teenager would when his crush finally acknowledged his existence. And there was a truth to that. The Blackthorn, blushing? Preposterous. They were alone anyway. Navani moved closer and looped both her arms around his, an intimate posture. Her head lightly rested on his shoulder, and she let out a contented sigh. His anxiety softened.

Memories of the wedding feast were a blur, but Dalinar recalled the exact moment when his eyes locked onto hers from across the room. Time to leave. Those brilliant, mischievous, light violet eyes. Not long ago, he couldn’t even look at her without guilt crashing through him, sending him spiraling. Now, that emotion no longer had purchase over him. Banished by their oaths. Standing close to her, gazing at her lovely face, he could see how her eyes sparkled, reflecting the light of the starspren in the sky. Glowing brighter than any infused gemstone. Impossibly beautiful.

This. Everything. They. Felt right.

Long silences no longer bothered them. But Storms did it always take this much time to get back? Anticipationspren sprouted from the ground. Dalinar, already feeling fool enough, mercifully did not see those spren at his feet. His attentions were elsewhere. If he had looked, he would have seen those red streamers wiggling around hers too.

The lift finally stopped, and of course, Navani stepped out first, leading Dalinar forward. Now that they were married, he shouldn’t require any encouragement. If only he could stop acting like a silk-covered virgin! They passed by guards who respectfully diverted their eyes as they walked through the hallway, into the entrance of their rooms.

At the doorway of their bedroom chamber, Dalinar tightly pulled close the curtain drapes and secured them in place, over a distorted door that failed to remain closed. Many doors in the tower were warped and needed repairs, but all things considered, their set up was a luxury. Fortunately, the other rooms, which included a future sitting room and study, would help separate them from the rest of the world. It will have to do. They will eventually get it all fixed. Privacy was important to him, increasingly so, as the gossip about his madness had made him feel uncomfortably exposed. And so, he craved time alone, but more so time alone with her.

At least, the scandal of their unconventional courtship was overshadowed by preparations for the end of the world. Though marriage after two months normally sparked another kind of gossip, it was not applicable to the middle-aged couple. Navani had found courtship protocol too restrictive and entirely frustrating. But Dalinar couldn’t help recall those moments of reserved tenderness with much fondness. Her hands caressing him as he woke from a vision. Stroking her shoulder as she read to him. Sanitation reports were never more endearing. Certainly, his physical attraction to her has always been undeniable, but it wasn’t the only reason he had fallen so madly in love with her in his youth. Not the only reason he was unable to pry off his longing for decades and nearly killed his brother for her.

Navani was brilliant as much as she was beautiful. He loved the way that she talked. How passionate and curious she was about the world. And despite being a political creature, she was always kind, loving and genuine when it mattered. He had been stupidly afraid of her intentions when he’d first spoken to her about his visions. Describing her as a bully was always a bit of an exaggeration. Simply put, Navani knew what she wanted and could convince others that what she wanted was what they wanted too. It helped that she was so often right. After all, they were finally wed, thanks to her persistence.

The couple walked across the bedroom, careful not to bump into the stacks of unsorted furniture. The balcony curtains were only partially drawn to let in the light of the moons. No lit spheres until they could find a reliable way to recharge them with Stormlight. The room was warmed by the heat of a lighted coal brazier that should last the night. A carafe of violet rested on the sofa table. Navani must have asked the servants to prepare everything ahead. A thought from earlier today echoed back to him. Indeed, he could never do better than marry Navani Kholin.

She turned to him and said, “Alright soldier, I need a few minutes to extricate this monstrous headdress from my head. Feel free to get comfortable. But not too comfortable.” She smiled slyly. “Leave some fun for me”.

“Marching orders from a woman?” he said teasingly.

“Well, as I am married to a so-called heretic. I can be excused for breaking a few outdated traditions now and then. Blame it on my husband’s bad influence.”

Dalinar quietly reflected how in fact, she had been the one to push the boundaries of Alethi norms in their youth. The ideal Alethi woman dressed exquisitely at all times, hair in perfect braids, safehand always covered, acting coy and timid, while conspiring behind the scenes. Brightladies mastered the arts, raised children and supported their military husbands. Navani did all that, but an uncovered safehand didn’t prevent her from doing the right thing. She drew beautiful glyphwards, but also sketched designs for machines, the work of smiths and ardents. And even before she became queen, she didn’t hesitate to speak her mind, telling others what to do and drive them to action. If Navani had been born in the next generation, she would have likely been much like her daughter, the most famous self-confessed heretic. And if Jasnah had lived, what kind of revolution could she have led?

Navani gave her husband’s hand a final squeeze before letting go. He resisted the urge to pull her back, knowing it would be difficult to peel away from her once they began.

Though Dalinar had no memories of his deceased wife, he was familiar with the arduous hair care rituals of highborn Alethi women, who wore intricate braids adorned with gemstones and other contraptions. A wife’s hair emergency was too often used as an excuse for tardiness even among military men.

He sat down on the sofa, removed his jacket, boots, then poured them each a cup of violet. He usually avoided anything harder than a red, but this was a special occasion. Sipping the wine, he eyed her at the writing desk, safehand uncovered. She stole a few glances back from the mirror’s reflection, while continuing to remove what looked like an infinite array of pins and odd-shaped clips from her dark silvering hair.

They had many reasons to feel blessed today, not in the least that they were healthy, and the years had been kind to both of them. Though both past middle-aged- Navani, only a few months older- she still possessed the kind of captivating beauty that earned a double take. And although some may characterize the Blackthorn’s face as “unfortunate,” he had those stark and heroic features that all men envy. Adolin Kholin took after his mother, but he was distinctly gorgeous in a masculine way. That square cutting jawline was cast from the Blackthorn. Interestingly, Stormlight had slightly adjusted Dalinar’s broken nose, bestowing a closer symmetry needed to inch him to the living embodiment of a stone statue.

Navani found herself missing Dalinar’s odder-shaped nose. Though, she was probably the only one who could tell the difference. It reminded her of the day they first met. She watched him from the sidelines of a roped-off dueling arena. Dalinar took a blow to the face early in the fight, though it would not be the nose’s only break in his lifetime. Aside from an occasional moment of sudden brutality, he moved beautifully in long, sweeping steps in synch with the crisp cutting arc of his sword despite his hulking size. He finally won after delivering his own punch, breaking the opponent’s nose in turn.

Unfortunately, that also hurled the opponent into the crowd, directly into an awestruck Navani. A panicked Dalinar rushed to the bystander’s aid. After helping her up, he was horrified to see the blood – the opponent’s- on her face. He attempted to check her for injuries, but the gauntlets made him clumsy. In Alethi culture, couples too close arm in arm in public was considered taboo. An unfamiliar male patting down a women’s head and touching her face would have been unthinkable. She waved him away to avoid disaster. After she cleaned her own face with a handkerchief, Dalinar could not form the proper words to apologize. Here was the most beautiful creature in the world before him. Navani had to force out a laugh to break the tension. It was still the most glorious sound he’d ever heard. He would have done anything to hear it again.

At their first outing, she recalled how he listened to her intently, when she went on, too long, about spren and gemstones. While everyone else listened to Torol telling a raunchy joke of an aged ardent and a parshman. Dalinar stared at her with such longing, it made her blush. It made her want to stare back. His physique and physicality has always immensely attracted her. The way he could move so decisively, so passionately, you’d hope he would carry you along with him. But he was also honest when so often other men failed. She had once thought of Gavilar in a similar way too. He was calculating, but at his most genuine when he was alone with her, at least that’s what she had thought.

Navani extinguished the memory of her former husband in her mind. She would no longer let that dead man hold any power over her. After finally freeing herself from the last of her braids, she lightly combed her hair using her fingers. Then checked herself in the mirror- red lips, violet eyes, tanned skin, hair cascading down in seductive waves. She smiled at herself, having no doubt in her feminine wiles and turned towards her new husband. He had loosened the top buttons of his shirt, exposing his upper chest. Some of those scars were gone with the Stormlight too. She did not miss any of those.

 The bride’s prayer was still in her safehand sleeve, so she removed it to show it to him.

“Love and Freedom,” Dalinar read aloud.

Navani nodded. She carefully folded the glyphward, painted red for good luck, and walked over to the brazier to let it burn. “Your son should follow your lead and learn some glyphs. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you which one.”

He held out the cup of violet to her. “Thank you.” Still standing, she sipped, then downed the rest in a few gulps. Dalinar’s eyes briefly widened, and then he copied her. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” she said, then motioned for him to stand.

They now stood face to face. A long overdue kiss in order. She placed both hands on the back of his head and neck, as he pulled her in from the waist and back in a tight embrace, relishing in her closeness. Their mouths and lips connected. Passionspren, tiny crystalline flakes, fluttered around them. Guilt, prohibitions, the worries of the world expelled from their minds. The kiss lingered wonderfully long. They eventually pulled back from another, breathless.

Navani continued with the rest of the Blackthorn’s disrobement. Once done, the usually unflappable queen blushed. Dalinar, now completely bare, in front of the woman he has loved for so long, ironically, drove out the last of his own nervousness. He moved with conviction, unbuttoning and removing Navani’s clothing with steady hands. No armor or fabric separated them now. Unburdened, they held onto each other tightly, pressed together skin to skin, as they carefully and slowly walked together towards the bed, planting kisses on each other’s lips, trailing those passionspren behind them.

He helped lay her down, positioning himself above her, careful not to crush her with his formidable frame. As she looked up, he let out a smile so sincere it melted her heart. It was a rare sight, him allowing himself to be happy. She cupped his face to draw him closer and said, “I love you.” Dalinar spotted a single tear slowly cascading down her cheek as joyspren drifted nearby. He kissed it before it rolled away, savoring its saltiness, recalling their very first kiss, then kissed her lips again.

Looking directly into her brilliant violet eyes, he said unwaveringly, “I’ll always love you, my gemheart.” Gloryspren flew near them, keeping a respectful distance as if in apology for the intrusion into this intimate space. After over thirty years of waiting, Dalinar and Navani Kholin were finally together, bound.

 

OATHS: Connection

Surreal? Too weak. A miracle? A peculiar way to describe it, though it took multiple to get them here. Magical, then? Perhaps.

No longer held back, Dalinar Kholin eagerly touched his new wife in all the places he had forbidden himself. The woman of his dreams. For over thirty years, he had never even dared to imagine holding her like this. But she could stir desire in him like no other, by a look, by a smile, by raising a spoon to her lips. He could distinctly recall the first time they touched. His hand gently cradling hers as his thumb brushed across it. So delicate. So soft. That was enough to spark his decades of longing. And now his hands stroked her naked back, her ample breasts, her voluptuous thighs.

Every. Single. Curve.

Desire burned in him like a thousand suns. He brushed her hair aside and kissed her along her neck and shoulders, hearing her breath quickening, her heart racing. If he had known this touch in his youth, he would have been king.

 And all Navani wanted was to feel. His body, his lips, his tongue, his hands on her bare skin. Those hands were coarse with calluses formed by years of sword-wielding, but she loved how it enunciated his presence, made him more real. Though he was storming strong and still had the muscles to show for it, Dalinar could also be so gentle. As if he could dial down his power and fine tune it down to decimal points. That was perhaps something he learned later in life. She recalled a bent dinner knife. Right now, Navani didn’t care if he was tender or rough, as long as he didn’t stop touching her.

Dalinar trailed kisses as he moved down her body, ready to taste her and experience her in any way she would allow. His beard stubble bristled against her abdomen, and she shuddered slightly. He found the spot, seeing it for the first time, the scar that was his responsibility, and kissed it lovingly.

He then felt her hand gently touch the back of his head. Their eyes met as he looked up, and she nodded, and he knew what she wanted. He pulled himself up and whispered under heated breath, “I want you Navani.” Kissing the top of her chest. “I’ve always wanted you.” Kissing her again and again. “I’ll never stop wanting you.”

Though nearly breathless, Navani reached for Dalinar’s face with both hands, and pulled him into her mouth, tongues swirling and pressing. He lifted her up slightly and placed a pillow under her hips to raise her up, as she wrapped her legs around him. Then, without hesitation, he slid into her. Neither of them was prepared for the intense pleasure that then washed over them. Navani let out a whimper. Dalinar grunted, and then paused, hesitating. She answered by tightening her grip around him.

What was unknown to either of them was that this experience was more than an accumulation of unmet decades of desire and wanting. Dalinar as a Bondsmith had the power of Connection, the power of joining minds and souls, the greatest of all Surges. It allowed him to speak other languages in his visions, which he had mistaken for the Stormfather’s abilities. Unconsciously, Dalinar opened a Connection with Navani. Their minds, souls and bodies were now connected. Words were no longer necessary, and would only be a hindrance, an inadequate translation of an understanding infinitely more profound.

Magical, until science could explain it.

Before moving, he beheld her brilliant violet eyes again, drinking in her beauty, not caring if he drowned. Then, they both laughed at the same time, thinking the exact same thing. Despite their age, this felt like sex between teenagers without the awkwardness. That initial anticipation, the excitement and raw joy, the intense pleasure at every touch. Would it have been the same, over thirty years ago?

Dalinar kissed her again, then asked, “Ready?”

And in a moment of recovered youthful rebellion, she said something a bit uncharacteristic. In their prime, Alethi propriety held them back. Decades later, middle-aged, Vorin fundamentalism prohibited their union. Women weren’t supposed to curse or enjoy sex. Well tonight, Navani would say and feel whatever she wanted - with the man she’s always wanted.

“Let’s fucking do this,” she replied with a smile.

He laughed, looking at her with absolute adoration, and said, “As you command.” Stroking her hair, he ended the conversation with these words. “Thank you for loving me.” Still breaking taboos. But no longer breaking my heart.

Dalinar then lifted himself up above her and began gently thrusting. He wished he could press himself on top of her, be closer to her, but his height was a disadvantage. Her head would sit closer to his shoulders, and he wanted to admire her face and meet her eyes. As he moved himself inside her, she moaned delightfully, pushing herself up to him, enjoying his presence. She lightly grasped his neck and shoulders, occasionally raising her head up for a kiss, meeting his gaze. The pressure was building, and he was almost ready, but he wanted to give her more.

He lowered himself, putting his head to the side, and with both arms encircled her shoulders, pulling himself deeper into her. “Yes,” she cried out softly. He then rocked his hips, in a grinding motion that was more stimulating for her than for him. He bowed his head down and buried his face near the curve of her head and neck, where he kissed her, breathed in her scent and exulted in the sounds of her escalating pleasure. Navani never knew that sex could be this pleasant, married for decades to a manipulative narcissist. And her interlude with a few lovers had also left her wanting.

While she still had enough presence of mind to act, she ran her fingers through his hair and stroked his head. “Don’t stop,” she said softly as he repeatedly drove himself inside her. She kissed him when she could, where she could, relishing in every point of contact. “Yes.” She raised her legs up higher, tilting her hips to meet his, desperate to contain the sensation, knowing she also wouldn’t last much longer. “Yes.”

Without breaking rhythm, Dalinar reached one arm back and hooked her knee, pressing her thigh toward the bed, raising her further. He cradled her head with his other hand, and took her mouth into his again, savoring her taste. His thrusts became deeper, and he shifted into an accelerating rhythm that matched her body’s response. She coiled herself tightly around him, finally pushing him over the edge. “Oh God, yes,” Navani cried out, arching her back, quivering and melting into ecstasy as Dalinar spilled himself inside her, both engulfed in nothing but pleasure.

Breathless and completely entranced, Dalinar fell onto the bed on top of her. Though he was a large man, Navani welcomed the sensation of his weight. Navani Kholin was not a waif, but a statuesque woman, formidable in her own way. She could handle the Blackthorn.

The Connection quickly fading, his mind clearing, Dalinar, slightly panicked as he realized Navani was directly underneath him, though he had managed to clear enough space for her head. He started to move away, but instead she clung onto him and said softly, “Stay.” And kissed his shoulder. 

She continued holding on to him, his weight on top of her, calming, soothing. After a while, she released him, lulled to sleep, enveloped in his warmth. He rolled over to lie next to her, then gently wiped away the beads of sweat that trailed her forehead and cheeks with his hands. He leaned in for a kiss good night. Navani’s eyes fluttered open, as she felt his lips on her own. She gripped the back of his neck and then closed her eyes to accentuate his touch. They settled on a sideways embrace, face to face, limbs entangled, neither of them possessing enough clarity to find a more comfortable position. They both soon fell asleep anyway. A restful and peaceful sleep. No couple ever more deserving. For as sure as their love was singular, another storm was destined to return, perpetually intruding on their well-earned tranquility.

Pillows and Blankets 

Navani woke up freezing cold. The fire from the brazier had burnt out, and the servants were instructed not to come in until early afternoon to sort the room. The curtains from the balcony had only been partially closed, as instructed, to allow moonlight to trickle in last night, but that also allowed sunlight to find its way in, and that storming sliver of light found its way onto Navani’s eyelids.

Snapped into awareness, she looked around and found Dalinar sleeping soundly. One pillow behind him and all of one blanket, the only blanket, wrapped around his lower torso. With his muscular chest exposed, square jawline and increasingly symmetrical face, he looked like some sort of returned god. 

She frowned, a little disappointed in herself, though she was hardly given enough notice. Organizing a pared down wedding ceremony and feast, rearranging and clearing their schedule for the following morning, and finding a bridal headdress within a matter of hours were already enormous feats. But she only mostly prepared Dalinar’s room for their first night together. Their room now. Woefully, she had forgotten to request extra pillows and blankets.

And now Dalinar had abducted their blanket, which was enviably wrapped around his waist and muscular thighs. There had been more than one pillow, but the rest were tossed off on the floor- on his side of course- no doubt thrown there by him on purpose. Brutish man.

It had been years, almost a decade really, since either of them had shared a bed. And although she sat by him as he entered those vision, he was never fully asleep. She had wondered. Did he snore? Was he a blanket stealer? Yes, to both.

She moved closer and propped herself up to get a better view of her husband. He was snoring lightly, and what was that? She almost gasped aloud. Here was the Blackthorn, smiling … while asleep? Her mind struggled to compute this unlikely probability. But more so her heart ached to imprint this into her memory. She lacked the artistic skill to capture it as well as she liked. If only she could engineer a device that could freeze and replicate this scene as it was. Dalinar Kholin, her husband, asleep and smiling peacefully next to her. Dalinar’s smiles were as rare as gloryspren, and equally hard to earn. His face was often a mask of scowls, even when content.

She let out a resigned sigh quietly, and then pondered. It would be a pity to wake him up. He had earned a peaceful rest. But it would only be a few more hours until the obligation to save the world would again take over their lives.

Her mind juggled around half a dozen options. Should she get up and draw close the curtains? Or should she bring in breakfast and wake him to the scent of food? Or should she design a fabrial that could muffle the sound of snoring husbands, and deliver a shock whenever pillows or blankets were stolen?

She continued daydreaming, staring at him, recalling the events of last night. Desire began to stir. Now that Dalinar was no longer holding either of them back, she wanted even more. Mature, though they were now and lacking in recent practice, last night’s encounter was absolutely wonderful. Dalinar and Navani were unencumbered by the self-consciousness and impatience of youth. It was the best sex she has ever had. Though she did not have an athletic build, few Alethi women did, her shape and size were a worthy match for the Blackthorn. Not like…

Navani paused and frowned at herself. She had told Dalinar that she wasn’t jealous, but that wasn’t the exact truth. How she wished she could bury her face into a pillow in shame- oh, a kingdom for a pillow! She knew better than to belittle Dalinar’s first wife. And the truth was that Evi had been the perfect match for the wild Blackthorn. Her goodness was infectious and she brought out the best in him, made him more human, cultivated his honor. Navani could not help but think that she would have had the opposite effect on him. Fanned the flames of desire, conquest and ambition. Was that why Gavilar…? No.  She would not take the blame for that monstrous transformation. She sighed yet again and made a note to herself to burn a prayer for Evi later.

Delirious with sleepiness, her mind wandered and started to touch on unmentionable subject matters. She unintentionally giggled aloud as she pondered how Radiants could use renewal powers in the bedroom. She then saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

Dalinar woke up from a most restful and peaceful sleep, to the sound of laughter. He was half-dreaming, when he opened his eyes and saw Navani, his wife, lying next to him.  She was laying on her stomach, looking up at him, completely bare. Her hair cascaded dramatically across her back and shoulders, onto dark tanned skin and a luxurious figure. Still half-awake, but grinning ear to ear, he sat up and leaned forward wordlessly asking for a kiss.

“Hold on, soldier,” she said. “I’ll trade a kiss for a blanket and a pillow.”

He sedately observed the scene around him- then jolted, his senses rushing back into him as he realized what he had done.  “I’m so sorry, Matha…” then winced.

Navani groaned, then laughed aloud. In his panicked state, Dalinar referred to her as Mathana, the formal title for older sister.  A term he had used countless of times to suppress his feelings in her presence. He blushed red, but took her laughter as a sign of reassurance.

“I’d say a trade is no longer adequate. A punishment is now called for.”  She sat up beside him, and gently pushed him back to the bed. She placed an arm across his muscled abdomen, and then pressed into him, her exposed breasts firmly against the side of his bare chest.

“Pillows and blankets won’t do. For now on until eternity, Dalinar Kholin, husband, you bear responsibility for keeping me warm by any means necessary and will also serve as my personal headrest.” She raised herself slightly more, to make good on that delayed kiss- then sank back down, nestling her head comfortably into his shoulder, embracing him even more tightly, to bask in his radiant heat.

Dalinar recovered his words finally, and said, “I’m sure I could do better.”

“Oh, is that so?” she answered mischievously. “Normally, I’d welcome that proposal. But Dalinar, didn’t I say …” She sat up fully, then straddled his hips and pressed her hands gently on his chest. “You need to relax.”

She bent down and grasped his head with both hands, pulling his mouth into her own. Passionspren floated in the air. After catching breath, she muttered softly in his ear, “I think.” She kissed his forehead. “The Stormlight missed a few spots.”  She kissed his cheek. “Would you allow me to investigate, General?” He grunted in the affirmative.

She continued,  kissing his other cheek, then the nose- more than a few times. And ran her tongue across his chiseled jaw, causing him to shiver. She smiled at herself approvingly, then lightly bit the poor shoulder which had taken a wound not too long ago. She alternated between using her tongue, mouth, hands and teeth to explore him and taste him. She could feel his firmness emerging beneath her. So she peeled off the seditious blanket from his body and threw it to the ground.

As she sat back up, she turned to Dalinar, and curiously noticed awespren around him. The sun had fully risen, and its light had peaked through at the right angle, bathing Navani in a glorious soft glow.

“You are the most beautiful woman in the world,” he exclaimed.

Normally, Navani would laugh off such a preposterous statement. But he was so sincere and well, awespren do not lie. So, instead, she thanked him with another kiss.

Then, she slid onto him. And in that moment Dalinar had once again inadvertently opened a Connection between them. Minds, bodies, souls, joined as one. There was a moment of stillness as the sensations bled together. Then Dalinar sat up, adjusting their positions, so they could now face each other. They embraced, eyes locked, still connected- love and happiness eclipsing passion and desire. He brushed her hair behind her ear to better reveal her face and capture again her mature beauty. 

“More beautiful now than ever. I swear it.” Navani smiled and ran her hands through his silvering hair, her violet eyes regarding him with boundless adoration. She gently began rocking back and forth, their breaths deepening together in a slow synchronized cadence. Dalinar put his arms across Navani’s shoulders and lower back, pressing her in closely. Time stopped and the world churned around them.

---

Navani, satisfied and spent, slumped over on top of Dalinar. It was an awkward enough position, that she had the good sense to move herself next to him instead- her husband, her very own makeshift pillow and blanket. The room wasn’t as cold anymore with the sun up, and they were both still heated from the sex, but she would never decline his warmth.

She breathed in his scent deeply, but after awhile let out a melancholy sigh. She knew that the excitement and novelty of these encounters would diminish over time. But that’s not the only thing that bothered her. She was afraid that they would not even be given the time for this newness to evolve into a beautiful ordinary, the comfort of familiarity. Dalinar was the most powerful man in the world, and he had a target on his back. A target he practically drew on himself. His scars may be less visible now, but it represented Dalinar’s uncanny ability to put himself into the literal face of danger. He was always one step closer to martyrdom.

Her emotions began to steadily overwhelm her, so she turned from him, and shifted her body away. She began to sob quietly. Her husband was a Bondsmith, closer to godliness than any man could attain. What could she do to protect him? A woman past her prime without power or authority, other than what a husband shared. She hugged her knees to her chest, retreating further, foolishly crying about an unknown outcome. She felt small and broken as she once was, from a House with no name, a sham. A memory creeped in, painfully. “Not worthy.”

Drowning in her own destructive thoughts, she hadn’t notice Dalinar move towards her, until she felt his arm reach across to embrace her, hugging her closely. His body moved to conform to the shape of her outline. He did not say anything. She wasn’t sure if he was awake, and she did not have the courage to face him. But she took his arm with both hands and pressed it tightly to her chest, next to her heart. And then thought, as she drifted to sleep, that she would burn all the blankets and pillows in the world to stay in his embrace.

---

A short time later…

A glowing light appeared, warm, welcoming. A vision? A dream?

She could feel it more than see it. It vibrated and hummed, mimicking the sound of a wind chime.

A voice said, Are you ok?

“Who are you?”

I’m here to help.

“Why me?”

Because you are important.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

She felt a frown.

Look lady, there’s no need to be so down on yourself. You couldn’t have said it better yourself. Humans are frail and foolish. And when you fall, you need to rise up a better… wait wait that one’s not for you— uh ‘a single failed experiment proves nothing.’

“What are you? Is this something to do with Dalinar’s power?”

Dalinar, Shmalinar. The big oaf. You don’t even wanna know how many chapters it’s going take for him to figure this out.

She felt an eyeroll.

I’m giving you the bullet points version.

“Bullet? Bullet points?”

Er.. on second thought this method might not work around here. Journey before destination or some such. I do know one thing for sure, lady. If you weren’t so busy making sure there’s access to drinkable water and poop isn’t piling up these hallways, you’d be WAY AHEAD, seriously WAY AHEAD. I mean like, lasers shooting out of your wrists thingamajigs level stuff.

“You mean fabrials? I don’t know what lasers are. I’m not a scholar.”

So you say. So you say. Talk about beating a dead horse. You have horses, right?

“Are you a spren? Wit?”

Neither, thank the Shards! Look, I’m just a traveler who got bored, and saw something shiny and pretty over there and thought I take a look. Hint. That’s you!

“How do we defeat Odium?”

Now THAT – see- is why you are the boss lady. Straight to the point. Kill the flashbacks. Book 10, let’s go! Errr.... I mean, Book 5?

“Dailnar sent you, didn’t you?”

Not exactly. But I owe you both a favor from way forward when.

“I’m not good enough for him. He needs someone better.”

Don’t be such a chullhead. I know I got that one right. Trust me, you’re in for a few surprises in the next few months, and boss man is gonna be out of commission. You’re gonna be wearing the big girl AND big boy pants, definitely double pants.

“I’ll try.”

Good good good. I wonder why you haven’t. Aww geez. You’re a short a couple of angsty scenes. Don’t worry, you’ll manage. Just remember, the big guy loves you and needs you just as much you do. I’m rooting for you both!  You’re both the bee’s knees! Err…. Skyeels gills?

“Thank you?”

Don’t mention it. Well time’s up. Oh, and when you do find me, remember to bring me one of them lasers pew pew thingies- they definitely come in handy around here.

---

The next morning, Navani woke up with an aching back, though she was no longer cold. She had won a pillow behind her head and was now wrapped up in that traitorous blanket. She was however short one pillow-blanket husband. Dalinar, the consummate solider, was up and fully dressed, shoes on, prepared for the rest of the day’s work. He spotted her, waking up, as he was making the final adjustments to his jacket and collar, and walked over to her.

She propped herself up with one hand in order to intercept an expected kiss. Dalinar happily fulfilled that promise.

“Good morning, gemheart.” Navani’s felt a warmth wash over, hearing a familiar term of his affection. 

“Time to save the world already?”

He looked at her fondly, as one of his hands caressed the back of her head, fingers gently combing her loose hair.

“Should I postpone your meetings today?” he asked.

“No, dear one. I need to get up and stretch any way, my back is aching. You’ve married a fossil.”

Dalinar looked at her thoughtfully. “Didn’t you once tell me that amber is a fossilized gemstone? A beauty only possible through the age?”

“I’m amazed you’ve remembered any of my ramblings.”

He leaned in again, cupping her face. “I can’t imagine you more beautiful than you are now.” And kissed her again. “There is breakfast and water on the table. Don’t forget to take care of yourself.” And then placed a quick forehead kiss. “I’ll see you later this evening.” Reluctantly, he stood up and started for the exit.

As he walked away from her, two urgent thoughts rushed back to her.  She stood up abruptly, nearly tripping over her blanket dress, as she hurried to her writing desk. “Wait. I almost forgot. I have a present for you.”

She pulled out the fabrial arm clock which she and her engineers had been tinkering with the past few months. It was as close as they could get to a reliable model, though she had really wanted to add some kind of chime. Additionally, she had not yet attached the leather bracer as she wanted to get the sizing correct. She brought along a measuring tape.

Shuffling over to Dalinar, she motioned for him to give her his arm.

“Let me just get this out of the way.” She wound the tape around his jacket sleeve in few directions and made a mental note of the numbers. Holding the fabrial and attempting to measure was a bit much even for two free hands, so the blanket was relieved of its duty as a dress and fell to the ground. Navani was too excited to show the device to Dalinar to notice.

“It’s a portable clock. I have a prototype as well. One clock tells the time and the other one is a stormclock. I still need to attach a leather bracer for your size before you can wear it, and I’m close to figuring out how to affix a painrial too. I have found it very useful to announce the time, especially to end meetings that are running too long,” she beamed.

Dalinar inspected the device carefully, then set it down on the table. Navani noted a hint of skepticism knit across his browline, but that was alright. She accepted that changing a man in his fifties, especially one as stubborn as Dalinar Kholin, would take time, like how dripping water eventually will sculpt stone.

Dalinar looked at her adoringly and hugged her. “It’s incredible. You’re incredible.”

Navani blushed. “Well, it will help expedite meetings, and leave time for other hobbies.”

They lingered, gazing into each other’s eyes, embracing. Dalinar then gently swept Navani’s loose, untamed hair across her face, his own face revealing an unexpected expression of concern.

He hesitantly started, “Navani, I’ve been thinking about what I said before, about wanting it to be right with us. No mistakes.”

“Yes?” she quavered.

“I know that things between you and Gavilar were not well before he died. I’ve avoiding letting you talk about him out of my own guilt and my love for him. That was selfish. But…” His expression grew more pained. “I’ve sensed that he must have done something terrible to hurt you. And I don’t want to make those same mistakes. I want to know, to understand. If you allow it.” He breathed into a sigh, waiting for her response.

Navani, hugged him close, naked, but feeling more warm and secure than she’s ever been.  She whispered into his ear, “Thank you.” Then, placed her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. She released him after a while.

”Oh, I almost forgot-the second thing.” Navani reached down with both hands and firmly grasped Dalinar’s shapely muscular butt. Dalinar raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for the longest time. Thank you for reminding me this morning. It feels as good as it looks in uniform.” Dalinar grinned his best mischievous grin, which was really a smirk. It was as endearing to her as was his vast collections of scowls. He then grabbed her lower cheeks.

“Now we’re even.”

“Not quite, you have the advantage of two layers, sir. I’ll look for recompense later this evening.” She went up on her tiptoes and landed a playful kiss on his cheek, and they finally broke the embrace.

Navani was scooping up the blanket from the ground, when Dalinar, almost at the exit, turned back one more time.

“Actually, I have a gift for you as well. I’m not as imaginative as you are. So, please forgive me for my utilitarian tastes. It’s on the sofa.”

She looked over and smiled brightly. Dalinar must have been up earlier than she thought. On the sofa, in nice, neat stacks, was a lofty collection of pillows and blankets.

 

 

 

Notes:

Originally written as 3 different chapters/themes. But added more chapters to PART II. Goal is it 10 chapters for each Part.

IMO
Now that they have spoken the Oaths
There's no way these two aren't tearing off those clothes and having a lot of sex.

Navani has been seducing him throughout all the books, and clearly has been trying to get him to go the whole way right before his marriage proposal. It's implied she's had partners in between Gavilar and Dalinar, so sex outside of marriage would not be against her principles.

And Dalinar is 100% a "wife guy" (mostly in good ways). Totally in love with Navani's physical beauty. But now the clothes can come off!

OB Chapter 4
“Dalinar,” she said as he pulled away. “Your stubborn refusal to get seduced is making me question my feminine wiles.”

How Dalinar has described Navani
OB Chapter 1:
Present
" A mature beauty— in some ways the picture of a perfect Vorin woman: lush lips, light violet eyes, silvering black hair in perfect braids, curves accentuated by the tight silk havah. No man would ever accuse Navani of being scrawny."

OB Chapter 22
"Navani laughed, a musical sound."

Past- Navani already married to Gavilar- Jasnah born
"Her face a sultry tan, her hair Alethi jet black, her red-lipped smile so knowing and clever. And a figure ... a figure to make a man weep for desire."

OB Chapter 24
After marriage
Spoon reference
"Navani, he thought. On my arm. It still gave him a heady, surreal feeling. Dreamlike, as if this were one of his visions. He could vividly remember desiring her. Thinking about her, captivated by the way she talked, the things she knew, the look of her hands as she sketched—or, storms, as she did something as simple as raising a spoon to her lips. He remembered staring at her."

Lastly, Dalinar has a nice butt, according to Lift, who isn't the type to lie about that.
OB Chapter 42
“Don’t,” she said. “He’s got too nice a butt.”
Dalinar cleared his throat. “What?”
“Your butt is too nice. Old guys shouldn’t have tight butts. It means you spend waaay too much time swinging a sword or punching people. You should have an old flabby butt. Then I’d trust you."

OB Chapter 22
"Right now,” Dalinar said, “what I want is to eat my storming steak.” He held up the little knife, which was bent in the middle.
Navani blinked. “How in the Almighty’s tenth name did you do that?” “Dunno.”"

OB Chapter 1
Dalinar commenting about Navani breaking taboos/hearts and being genunine.

He smiled, and suddenly thought himself foolish for idealizing her just earlier. Navani Kholin was not some timid, perfect ideal—she was a sour storm of a woman, set in her ways, stubborn as a boulder rolling down a mountain and increasingly impatient with things she considered foolish.
He loved her the most for that. For being open and genuine in a society that prided itself on secrets. She’d been breaking taboos, and hearts, since their youth. At times, the idea that she loved him back seemed as surreal as one of his visions.

My favorite line/scene in chapter:
"If he had known this touch in his youth, he would have been king."
"As if he could dial down his power and fine tune it down to decimal points."

Chapter 4: Passions (M) (OB)

Summary:

Diplomatic Visit to Thaylen City

A conversation between Kmakl and Navani
Wedding Gifts - sex scene
When in Thaylenah...
Dinner date with the Rnmadis
Return Home - sexy scene

Kmakl = OG wife guy

Notes:

Epigraph 10d countdown after SA5 published
Late addition to Part II- wrote it this week.
Book of Obstetric Health references epigraph from Part I and end of chapter 8 “Things that can destroy us”

While Dalinar impressed Queen Fen with his second more impressive stunt, uniting men to fix the Temple of Battah -all the while not wearing a shirt- Navani made a personal request of Kmakl, Thaylen’s Prince Consort. A request to visit to their navy shipyard and inspect a vessel in construction. Because Navani had been dreaming of ships. Grands ones to transport Rosharans not across the seas, but across the sky. Perhaps even beyond. And Fen’s aging husband was one of their navy admirals.

Neither a Bondsmith like her husband nor a healer like her nephew, it still may have been more appropriate for her to stay with the group at the makeshift hospital in the broken temple. Rulers visiting the sick and wounded never failed to curry favor with the public. However, Tarvangian, as an extension of their coalition, was far better at showcasing genuine sympathy than any Alethi could, even a woman. And Navani preferred to think of herself as a wife of a monarch than one herself. If given the opportunity to explore her personal interests, she would gladly pursue it. Kmakl, who had been married to an elected politician for decades, understood her sentiment and kindly agreed to her request.

The Everstorm had devastated the Thaylen docks and everything along the exposed western parts of the city. Wooden structures fared the worst. Most obliterated. And the few ships in the harbor that survived could only be used for salvage at best. The rest, stolen by the parshmen. As the Thaylen people’s livelihood depended on trade, it was not long after that they set up another location to rebuild and replace their lost ships. And that’s where the two spouses of monarchs headed, sharing a palanquin and a conversation on their way to the protected area of the docks.

“Brightness, we’ve met before, but we have never had a moment alone in private,” the long eye-browed man started.

Navani eyed him curiously. Even as queen, in her youth, she’s had to guard herself against the occasional unwanted advance after a similar comment. But the older man had a fatherly air to him, and more importantly, an honest one too. Navani had also grown accustomed to being viewed less so an object of desire as she aged. No bother. There’s only one man living who she needed to see her in that way, and she had already successfully seduced him.

Kmakl then seemed to hear his words echo back to him. “Oh, forgive me for my poor choice of words, dear. I didn’t mean it that way. Not that you aren’t very pretty. Fen would have me tied up outside in the next storm if I ever… but I did want to talk to you about a private matter. I wanted to thank for saving my daughter’s life.”

And now Navani puzzled. “Whatever do you mean, Admiral? I did not know you and Fen had a daughter. I certainly would have remembered if I had met her.”

“My daughter from my first marriage. She nearly died in childbirth, unfortunately, her mother did not survive her own. The surgeon explained that he discovered her diagnosis and treatment in The Book on Obstetric Health at that time only recently translated into Thaylen from Kharbranth. I had mistakenly tried to thank Taravangian once. But he had revealed to me it was you who convinced him to distribute that medical text across Roshar. May I ask, why did you hide your role in its release?”

“It was an issue with trust, your Highness. Alethkar was known for plotting and conquering, and never for unrewarded beneficence. Even now, that reputation persists, considering how you viewed our recent invitation. We didn’t want the intention of the project to be questioned. The outcome was more important to me than the credit,” Navani explained. “I’m surprised that Taravangian told you about my involvement, after decades of accepting the praise by himself.”

“Perhaps I caught him during a moment of sentimentality. You’ll find dear, that they come more frequently with age.”

Navani now looked at the older man fondly, and affirmed her opinion that he was a good man. No wonder Fen had chosen him, despite being a widower with a child, and probably a decade or more older, unlikely wealthy, as few Thaylen military men were. Their merchants held the sphere pouches.

“I’m very glad to have done a good deed. What’s her name? Where is your daughter now?” she asked.

“Lynl. She and her family live in Klna, which was thankfully spared damage from both storms. Her husband is a shipbuilder there.”

“At least the Almighty is watching over some of us.”

The Prince Consort smiled back, his drooping whiskers moving in tandem.

Feeling a bit nosy, realizing they both had married again later in life, Navani pressed for additional information.

“If you don’t mind the question, how long have you and Fen been married now?”

“Twenty-five years,” he said with a shine in his eyes. “And despite what others may say, she was the one who took pity on me.”

“How so? How did you meet?” Navani sat forward to listen more intently.

“Lynl was already grown and had moved away with her husband. After her mother died, I never considered remarrying and was used to a quiet life alone.” The Thaylen man combed his mustache with his fingers, thoughtfully reflecting on the past. “When Fen and I first met, I had the responsibility of approving new shipping routes, and she represented one of the fishing guilds.” He laughed. “No one has ever lectured me so passionately about the breeding habits and migration patterns of fish. She told me I was purposely denying her requests, so that she’d have to visit me again for another lecture. But I only ever denied a handful of them.” The aging man smiled again, looking more youthful than before, as the pleasant memories reformed in his mind. “I’d sit nearby the docks alone, eating my lunch, and she’d come by unannounced with her report- rolled up maps, drawings and calculations- to explain it all to me there.”

“It sounds like she really fell for you.”

“And it still surprises me that she did. I was of course younger, but only perhaps a tad more handsome. She told me it was because I was very good at listening. And she thought it was remarkable how I did not accept bribes.” He raised one of his long eyebrows. “She had tried.”

“I’d be surprised if she didn’t. Fen always figures out how to get what she wants, one way or another.”

“That I can attest to. But a few had labeled her a spinster, though she had rejected many offers from more powerful and wealthier men. Still, in Thaylenah, it is not too uncommon for ambitious women to remain unmarried into their late thirties.”

Navani then wondered. How old was Fen?

“I’m sorry, your Highness, now this question may be a bit impertinent. But how old are both of you? Isn’t Kdralk in his early twenties?”

“I’m seventy-two and Fen is sixty-two. Our son was a bit of surprise.”

“A late blessing,” Navani remarked.

“Indeed. It was unusual to be a father again decades later. Fen hadn’t expected motherhood at all,” he added.

“You know Admiral, we are more alike than you think.”

“In what way?”

“You do not give yourself enough credit. An honest man who listens well is a rarity. Your wife had given herself the time to find the right person. And eventually found you.”

Kmakl held out his hand in a polite gesture, and Navani took it.

“And you have found yours, my dear, later in life as well?”

“Yes. Lost, then found again,” she answered with a smile.

----

Though they had not intended to stay in Thaylenah city long, after Dalinar’s impressive feat, Fen had insisted that they dine together and offered a room in one of their villas. Urithiru was only an Oathgate away, but it made sense for them to showcase their new alliance. The Blackthorn welcomed by Thaylenah with open arms would hopefully ease the worries of the other monarchs.

Navani made it back to their rooms first. She hadn’t found the shipyard visit as useful as the she thought it might be. Bouyancy and fighting with uncooperative waters weren’t going to be problems in the skies, especially the way they plan to move. Though at some point, minimizing the reliance on Stormlight and finding a way to propel the airships on their own should be pursued. Perhaps studying animals in flight would be the next step. How do skyeels keep themselves in the air again?

 She took her shoes off as she entered the rooms and placed Dalinar’s jacket across the back of the sofa. On the dresser, she found a large box with a note on it in Alethi glyphs. It read, “Marriage. Gift.” Navani opened it and found a bottle of Shin wine. Fen must have done her homework; it was Navani’s favorite. I always did like her, she thought. And right next to it, a book. The Passions.

She picked it up, inspecting it over pursed lips, less so irritated, moreso confused. It would be unlike Fen to make such a weak gesture to proselytize. Thaylens were also well aware of the distaste most Alethi, staunch Vorin church believers, had for the Passions, a pagan pseudo-religion.

The book looked to be in the original Thaylen. Navani had previously browsed through abridged copies in Alethi, and thought most of the content to be childish, self-serving and superstitious. The most basic tenet of the Passions is that the simple act of wanting something changes fate to draw it to you. A convenient excuse for gamblers, unrequited lovers and greedy persons to behave badly.

As she flipped through the book, she gasped and nearly dropped it when she saw the illustrations in the middle. An editor must have wisely excluded them from most if not all exported foreign copies of the book. Though how it remained a secret was baffling.

Navani sat down on the sofachair to steady herself, but more so to review the pages more closely, still shocked that this was part of a religious text, pagan or not, but undeniably curious. The drawings depicted men and women engaging in sexual acts, in a variety of sexual positions. Sometimes with the same gender or with multiple partners.

She stopped at a page with a Thaylen man, lying on the floor with an erect penis and his face buried in the crotch of a female partner kneeling forward at his head. Er… rather on it. The man’s white hair and eyebrows were neatly tied up out of the way in a bun, while the woman’s eyebrows were woven into her hair. She turned to the next one depicting a woman with two men, holding each other in a way that was likely to cause serious injury, if a hand slipped. She flipped again and thought, Who in the world is that flexible? Is it supposed to bend that way? Would that even feel pleasant? Maybe a Radiant could at least recover if things go wrong?

She nearly screamed, when she saw her own Radiant approach her from across the room, but instead silently jumped up from her chair, holding her stomach.

“I’m sorry, did I startle you?” Dalinar asked. He was of course still shirtless.

Navani set the book down on the table, then wiped her sweaty palms on her dress and sat back down.

“Oh, I … was just reviewing a book Fen suggested to me.”

He removed the soiled sweat rag from his belt, tossing it in a bin, and took off his boots. “You looked quite occupied. What is it about?”

“Some religious nonsense. Nothing interesting enough for me to read to you.” Navani felt relieved – for once- that Dalinar was illiterate like most Alethi men were. He wasn’t likely to ask to see it.

“If Fen thought it important to recommend it, perhaps there’s something there. We can maybe ask her over dinner,” he said as he settled into the sofa across from her.

Drat, Navani thought. She will just have to control that conversation or hope the Thaylen queen doesn’t mention anything about illustrations.

“That’s a good idea,” she smiled, but at the same time not so subtly eyed his bare chest. She got up and partly sat on his lap, legs draped across, an arm over his shoulder.

“You were amazing today,” she said.

“Oh? Tell me more,” he said while squeezing her thigh through her dress.

“Well, let me start with the negative and end with the positive.” As she spoke to him, her freehand rifled through his hair. It was both greasy and dusty, but hands can be washed. “Your first stunt nearly gave me a heart attack, despite how much you’ve prepared me to see you get stabbed.” She tapped a finger in its sleeve on his chest to demonstrate. “Then, I find you shirtless, muscles bulging, joints popping out of place, trying to piece together stones three times your size. Impressing everyone, including me. I suppose scowls are no longer needed from you. We’ll have to ask the other monarchs if they are in need of a half-naked diplomat who can fix their broken cities.”

Dalinar smiled at her slyly, then said “And here I thought, only I had the privilege of seeing your naked breasts.” While he spoke, he slid his hand inside her sleeve and held her safehand, massaging her palm between his thumb and fingers rhythmically. Somehow, he had unbuttoned it while she was talking. He continued, slowly working his way up her arm, stroking and pressing, making it just past her elbow, before the clothing’s stretch could no longer accommodate his large hand.

Navani stared back at him with her violet eyes, breathing in deeply, desire rising in her. There was a part of her brain that wondered – What time was it? Will they be late for dinner? Should he wash up first? And Navani told that part to shut the fuck up.

She moved her legs off his lap, then straddled him, and started to unfasten the top of her dress. “That sounds like a request,” she said.

Dalinar watched as his wife undressed herself in front of him. He placed his hands underneath her skirt to touch her bare thighs and began rubbing them. The top of her dress was off, and she began working on her bodice, when he took a deep breath and a thought occurred to him.

“Did you want me to wash up first?“ Navani paused, in disbelief. “I’m a little…ripe,” he explained.  She furrowed her brow in irritation. ”Maybe we should do this after dinner. We don’t want to be late,” he added. Before she could respond, he looked around the room for a clock and asked, “What time is it?”

Navani rolled her eyes, then pushed herself off of him. “Dalinar Kholin, you started this. And now you’re going to make me, wait?”

“I..I was only thinking about you, gemheart,” he stammered.

She glared at him, as she started to redo her buttons. “Don’t think for one minute you can just call me ‘gemheart’ and all is forgiven.”

“Of course not, g--“ he winced.

Navani started her way over to the washbasin to wash the grease off her hand, when he caught her elbow.

“Wait. We have..” He read the clock on the wall. “Thirty..thirty-two minutes before we have to leave. If you don’t mind the rush, we could still…”

“No. No. You were right --  gemheart. Your smell is no longer tolerable. In spite of how I had been sitting there without complaint, gawking at you the whole time. I am releasing you from your husbandly obligations. And also revoking your privileges for the time being.”

So he let her go, and as she walked away, he returned to pick up the book that had fallen to the ground, when he had bumped it, chasing after her. Navani had just finished washing her hands, and was fastening the last few top buttons, when she turned around and found him sitting on the chair’s armrest, nonchalantly perusing the book.

A flush rose in her cheeks, but at least no shamespren appeared. “Dalinar dear, what are you doing? You can’t read. Give it back. I promise I’ll read it to you later” she said as she hurriedly walked over to him.

“No, no… dear.  I’ve already found the good parts.” He looked up from the book and smirked. “I now fully understand why you’ve been behaving this way, and I don’t think it’s fair to say that I started it. What book is this anyway?” He continued flipping the pages, as calmly as if he were studying terrain maps.

Navani cleared her throat. “The Passions, in the original Thaylen.”

“Fen gifted this to you?” He paused at an illustration with a couple performing oral sex on each other sideways.

“To us. A marriage gift.”

He raised an eye eyebrow, still absorbed in the book. “That was very thoughtful of her. Especially to include pictures for me.” He looked up at her. “I’m not releasing you from your promise to read this to me.”

She now saw the same image he had been looking at and resisted the urge to find a pillow and bury her face in it.

“Dalinar, these illustrations are not included in the foreign editions. They’ve been censored. I doubt there’s any relevant text.”  She placed her hand over the book, and tried to gently pry it away from him, but he held to it.

“All the same. I might need your help with interpretation.” He slid her fingers off, and set the book on the table, then encircled his arms around her lower back, pulling her towards him.

“How can you look at those images without---” she looked down, her cheeks brighter than ever.

“Embarrassment?” he said for her. “They’re just drawings. Not real people. I’ve seen something similar before.”

 “Where?” she asked incredulously.

He chuckled. “If you must know. Toh sent us a book. Over three years of marriage without a child born, he probably thought we needed the inspiration.”

Toh - Evi’s brother. Adolin was eventually born after five years. Memories of his dead wife had just begun to return to Dalinar. Generally, Rirans are more comfortable with emotional expression than Alethi, and so some say they are less inhibited in the bedroom. There was likely some truth to that, though he hadn’t recovered enough to remember most of it.

“Children are certainly not being conceived the way it’s depicted in most of these pages,” Navani asserted.

He smiled at her affectionately, then said “I’m surprised you are being.... Now don’t get mad at me.” He hesitated to find the right word, “A bit prudish.”

“Pornography isn’t usually at the top of my book list.”

“Dearest.” He kissed her breasts over the clothing. “Gemheart.” And did it again. “This is quite tame compared to what’s out there. Think of it as a guide…Suggestions. Aren’t you curious?” He didn’t need her answer. “Of course you are. When are you not? That’s why you were studying it so closely when I came into the room.”

She pulled herself free from his arms and provided no confirmation of his observations. Instead, she redirected. ”We are going to be late for dinner. You still need to wash yourself. It would be an insult to refuse a gift. So the book will stay with us anyway.”

Before she could return to the mirror and redo her makeup and hair, he placed his hands on her shoulders to stop her, and whispered, “Well, let it be known that I am open to your suggestions. Though I prefer that it’ll only be the two of us.” He squeezed her shoulders then left for the washroom.

As he walked away, Navani looked appreciatingly at his muscular back, impressive frame, and the rounded cheeks under his trousers, but she couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse to cancel dinner. They had been married for almost a month now, and have had sex every day, often more than once. Mostly, in the conventional way, though, she had no complaints. However, she still blushed, looking at his body, unclothed. Well, primarily when looking at one part. Not like it would be appropriate for her to stare at it any way.

Feeling determined to overcome her prudishness, she quickly took off her dress, leaving her in only undergarments and walked into the washroom. There, Dalinar sat on a stool, naked, lathering up soap in his hands. Thaylen washrooms typically had no bathtub. Only a well of water, sometimes heated, with a bucket and ladle to pour water over oneself. It helped to conserve fresh water - ironic since they were surrounded by the sea.

“I’m only here to help with the washing,” she explained.

Dalinar looked her over, noting how long her legs appeared outside the dress, then said, “You’ll have to excuse me then for averting my gaze to contain myself.” He held out the soap bar to her. “Help me with my hair?”

Navani wet her hands in the water and worked up a lather with the bar, then began massaging it into Dalinar’s hair. The motions recalled old memories. Gavilar usually kept his hair a bit long, close to shoulder-length. Washing and massaging his hair and head for him helped him relax. It was one of the very few things he’d asked of her. And now, she was doing it for his brother. Evi probably had done it for Dalinar too. It might have been awkward, but it truly wasn’t. There were only so many things they could do that would be different from their prior relationships. As long as they enjoyed it, what did it matter?

She had worked the soap well into his hair already, and had started a scalp massage, pressing her soft fingers firmly into his head, then rubbing her thumbs in a circular motion, when he spoke to her again.

“Dearest?”

“Hmm...” Navani said, mindlessly focused on her task.

“I’m afraid. I’m going to have to ask you to stop again,” he said in a low voice.

“Oh, am I pressing too hard? I could do it more lightly. What’s the...” She then looked over his shoulder and the reason became apparent to her. And now Dalinar was the one blushing.

“I assure you this has never happened before.”

“Likewise,” she said with wide eyes.

“Splash the cold water over me. I’m nearly done anyway.”

Not quite, Navani thought. Regardless, she picked up the bucket and filled it with the cold water, pouring it over his head and back carefully, and repeated a second time.

All cleaned up but still wet, Dalinar stood up, and turned around, thinking that he had conquered his arousal. And then he saw her standing there in her wet undergarments. Her dark firm nipples peeking through the fabric. She had a towel extended out in her hand, but her eyes weren’t looking at his face.

“We are not going to make it through dinner,” she said.

“No fucking way.” He took the towel and did a terrible job of drying himself. Then picked her up by those long legs, tossing her over his shoulder, and carried her out of the washroom.

“Dalinar, what are you doing!” she exclaimed while giggling. “You’re going to injure yourself!” Passionspren chased after the couple as they reentered the bedroom.

“Gemheart, you are far lighter than those stones from earlier,” he said as he set her on the side of the bed, then scooted her underwear off. “But I should be able to manage that for the next few years without Stormlight.” He lifted one of her legs and began trailing kisses on it.

“I won’t hold you to that,” Navani replied, as she worked on removing her top, but the laces were being stubborn, moreso difficult when wet. “Feel free to use your Radiant powers to your benefit, especially if it benefits me too,” she said mischievously.

Hovering over her from the edge of the bed, he bent down and propped himself up with one arm and started kissing her neck and the top of her chest. “What’s the status of my privileges?” he asked.

Navani gave up on the ties and simply pushed the bodice down, lifting her breasts from under it.

“Restored. But we don’t have time to play around,” she said as she wrapped her legs around him.  

He then sucked and licked one of her nipples, and she responded with a surprised gasp. “We’re going to be late anyway,” he explained. “I needed a taste before you revoke my privileges again.” Smiling in amusement, Navani held his face with both hands, pulling herself up to his mouth for a kiss. At the same time his hand roamed down the side of her breast, over the unyielding undergarment, past the scar, and then gently rubbed her inner thigh.  

After the kiss broke, he asked, “Are you sure you’re ready?”

She looked at him, questioning, then realized. “Oh, you mean that.” At her age, sex could be very uncomfortable without lubrication or enough time for foreplay. They had a routine at home, but Navani didn’t carry around a bottle of lotion. Looking passed him, she squinted her eyes and noted something else sitting on the dresser.

“Dear one, might there be a bottle of oil sitting on the table over there?” Dalinar lifted his head from her chest, where he had been kissing and lightly biting the top of her breasts. He looked behind him and grunted in the affirmative. A glass bottle with yellow liquid had been placed next to an open box.

“We might be able to use that, can you retrieve it for me?”

“Of course.” He stood up, right after he sucked and licked the other nipple. It was only fair. Navani considered that they probably didn’t need to use the oil at all.

On his return, he handed it over to her so she could read its label. It simply said, Gift. She poured a generous amount of the cool liquid into one hand and gave the bottle back to him to set down, then rubbed her hands together.

Dalinar groaned softly as his wife, stroked him carefully, spreading the now warmer oil around. He pulled her hips down closer to him, then leaned forward as she guided him into her.

Once fully inside, he said to her, “Why does this feel so fucking amazing every single time?”

Navani couldn’t respond in words right away. She drew her knees up high, feet in the air, and placed her hands on his shoulders, allowing him to push into her more deeply.

“You’re asking the wrong question,” she finally managed, with a breathy laugh.

 “How so?” He stopped his movements to listen to her.

Looking at him with her clever eyes, she answered, “You should be asking, ‘Why can’t we just fuck all the time?’”

Dalinar lowered himself to her from the edge of the bed.

“Once we save the world” he said, kissing her lips in between words. “That will be our reward.”

“By that time, don’t expect me to be able get back into this position.”

“We’ll need the book then for inspiration.”

He smiled, and she lovingly caressed his face, wishing more than anything that the joy she felt in that moment could last forever. He felt the same way. Though the Connection between them was open, it wasn’t needed.

“Well, let’s fuck like this while we can,” she said, laughing again, this time with him.

“You always know the right words, gemheart.”

 Then he pushed his tongue inside her mouth, while one hand fondled her breast.  He started thrusting at a quick pace. They couldn’t be too late. Navani moaned gleefully, ignoring the discomfort of the tight bodice around her torso. The tension had already been building inside them, and it didn’t take long.

After they were both satisfied, Dalinar slid out of her, and rested his upper body on top of her, knowing that she liked the feeling of his weight. It was not a comfortable position for him as he was on his knees, but he didn’t mind. They were actually fortunate that Thaylen beds were close to the ground. A typical bed would have required standing – an awkward angle for his height.

He laid his head on his wife’s shoulder, so he could watch her and feel her, as her breathing eased up, and her heartbeat returned to normal. Navani encircled her arms and legs around him, squeezing him once tightly before kissing him on the forehead twice. Her eyes were closed but she was grinning like a love-struck teenager. Dalinar chuckled softly. It was good to see her so happy and relaxed. He reached out for her hand and carefully interlaced his fingers with hers, then pulled it close to his face. Then sighed. This was so blissful. So peaceful. He closed his eyes.

Suddenly, Navani tossed him off, and he fell to the ground.

“We need to get up and get dressed now!” she yelled in a panic. “Someone’s going to come in and check on us.”

Literally kicked into awareness, Dalinar stood up and headed over to the washroom to look for his clothes but found that they were all wet. He grabbed a towel to dry off the rest of his body and returned to the bedroom, hoping there might be something to borrow in the wardrobe. There, he found a pair of trousers that were obviously meant for a portly man. It went up to mid-calf, which was a style- not his style- but choice and time were out the window. At least his belt could remedy the generous waistband.

While Dalinar scavenged for clothing, Navani struggled again with the laces of her wet bodice. She searched the room for something to cut them, and found a pair of scissors, but they were dull. The scissors clattered on the dresser as she tossed them back in frustration.

“Did you want to cut that?” her husband asked.

“I might have to just wear it wet,” Navani answered as she cupped one of her breasts to push it back underneath the bodice. “My dress may not fit without it anyway.” She winced as she finally squeezed one through the tight fitting, and then it popped right out.

“Stop, stop, stop,” Dalinar implored. “Those are far too delicate to be handled that way. I have a knife.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You mean your dining knife?”

Dalinar nodded. He was now dressed except for boots. Trousers that were too short and wide at the same time, a loose white shirt with flowing long sleeves that was also too small. He looked like a sailor. One who liked to gamble and was down on his luck, wearing second-hand attire. Navani suppressed a laugh. At least for once, he was out of uniform.

The old soldier pulled his dining knife out of it sheath, and carefully cut through his wife’s laces, positioning the backend of the knife against her body to avoid injury. When he reached the upper portion of the bodice, he lifted one of her breasts to move it out of the way, but there she stopped him.

“That’s good enough. I just needed a section of the ties cut. I can undo the rest.”  Navani briefly considered what someone would have seen if they walked in at that moment. She- mostly naked, chest exposed over a cut-up bodice. He- dinner knife in one hand, her breast held in the other. Even if they had locked the front door, there were other entrances for the servants, sometimes hidden, and they hadn’t mapped out those locations. They were now ten minutes late. They needed to hurry.

“I found something you might be able to wear,” her husband informed her, as he walked back to the wardrobe. He pulled out a Thaylen-styled dress that had an outer bodice. Though there was a safesleeve, cutouts revealed the top of the shoulders.

“Give it here,” she said, as she finally freed herself of the top undergarment. She borrowed Dalinar’s towel to dry and clean herself up, then replaced her underweat. Dalinar helped slip the dress over her head and pulled it down. “Thank you.” Navani never felt such relief in having clothes on her.  The ties were in the back, and Dalinar helped cinch them for her too.

“How’s that?” he asked.

She was used to a tighter fit, but vanity was on hold.

“It’s good. Thank you.”

 Navani checked herself in the mirror. The dress fit well enough, though a bit short as Alethi were generally taller than most Thaylens. It was quite pretty really, dark green with gold accents. The shoulder peek was a nice touch, though not something she would have worn in Alethkar. But her hair was a complete mess. Loose strands fell out of their intricate braids. She’ll just have to undo them and leave it down.

“Did you need some help with that?”

“No. I’ll undo the rest on the way. Fetch my shoes for me?”

Navani lightly touched up her makeup, then ran to the front entrance, where Dalinar had set out her shoes for her.

As Dalinar opened the door, a servant stood in front of them, ready to knock.

“Oh pardon, Brightlord, Brightness,” they said in Thaylen-accented Alethi. “I am here to escort you to dinner.”

“We very much appreciate that you came to our aid at this time,” Dalinar said for the both of them.

---

They sat down at a small round marble table and waited for Fen and Kmakl to arrive.  

Of course, she would show up after them, Navani thought. And make them wait yet again to establish her authority.

Suddenly, a horrifying realization occurred to her. What if there was someone spying on them in their rooms? That’s what they’d do in Kholinar Palace. And Thaylens certainly had spy networks. Is that why the servant knew when to collect them?

“Are you ok, gemheart?” Dalinar asked, noticing her worried expression.

She sighed, then looked to him and said, “Just overthinking.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it.

“You look beautiful by the way,” he said, looking at her lovely face framed by unruly waves, after she had freed them from those braids.

“Dalinar, you know if you keep telling me that, it will eventually lose its meaning.”

“It’s the truth, and you know I’d swear it. One of the guards was eyeing you as we walked by.”

“No dear, I would wager that they were looking at you. Wondering why the Blackthorn was wearing hand-me-downs,” she teased. “Anyway, I like to think I’ve grown less vain. I’m perfectly fine with being viewed as a mother, or really a grandmother at this stage.”

Dalinar held his chin between his thumb and finger, smiling, while staring at her silently. It wasn’t a look she had seen from him often.

“What?” she asked, blushing like she did when they first met.

“Just imagining how’d you look in ten, twenty, thirty years.”

“And?”

“Well…I don’t want the words to lose their meaning.” He lifted her hand and kissed it, not an improper public display of affection in Thaylenah.

Navani couldn’t recall the last time floating Navani had visited her- to chide her for acting childish and lovesick. In her youth, she had thought that marrying for love was a silly concept, and that infatuation was too often mistaken for love. She needed floating Navani, an imaginary persona, to slap some sense into her when she acted like a fool. Now, she happily buried her, no longer requiring her services. Because this was love. She had married for love. And it was the best decision of her life.

A different woman interrupted her.

“How is it that some of us have aged properly these past ten years, but others continue to flaunt their ageless mature beauty?” Queen Fen said as she sat down across from Navani, speaking in Alethi with a light Thaylen accent.

“Fen, dearest, you are as lovely—“ the prince consort started as he took his own seat.

“Kmakl, your opinion on my beauty is as meaningless as this other lovesick fellow is for his wife.” Fen patted her husband’s arm fondly. “But I appreciate it all the same.” Turning back to the Alethi highlady, she said, “Truthfully dear, my unbiased opinion is that you look the same as you did ten years ago.” She looked her over again. “Maybe even better.”

“Fen, you’re being as ridiculous as Dalinar was just now.”

“And have you ever known me to lie and pander?”

Navani opened her mouth.

“Don’t answer that,” she glared at her. “But I do know why. The same thing happened to me when I met this fool.” She looked at Kmakl and added, “My darling fool.” He smiled back at her with a mustached grin. “I was only thirty-six and young men had started to give up their seats for me like I was sixty-six. Then I was seduced by an older handsome man in uniform. Being happy and in love made me look younger than ever. I never received as many courtship proposals as I did when I was being pursued by this man.”

Navani looked at the older couple and thought, Still happy and in love after twenty-five years. Her relationship with Gavilar had crumbled around that time. And yet she knew the one she had now would last just as long, longer even, if they both lived to see it.

“Coincidentally, Fen,” Navani said. “Earlier today, Kmakl told me the story about how you both met. It was very sweet.”

“Oh did he?” Fen said with raised eyebrows. “He must have left out all the scandalous parts.”

Navani turned to Kmakl, who merely shrugged.

“But Navani dear, may I see how that Thaylen dress fits on you? Ours are so much better than those stuffy havahs you Alethi wear. Stand up for me, please”

“And would you like me to twirl and curtesy too? Then kiss your rings?” Navani taunted. “You’re as bad as King Voh of Rira. Remember him?”

Fen snorted. “I wish I didn’t. Smug bastard. He’d always look to Kmakl first, before talking to me. As if I needed approval for my husband, when he very well understood that I was the elected monarch.” The Thaylen queen then gestured for Navani to stand.

Navani rolled her eyes before standing up. She spun around slowly once and curtseyed.

“Happy? You’ll need to bribe me with some more wine before I kiss your hand, Fen.”

“More wine?”

The arrival of the food and present wine interrupted the Thaylen monarch. Fresh sailfish served in a spicy clear broth with red peppers; a sweet nut-based curry with root vegetables; dried fruit and salted pork on the side; all paired with a strong blue wine, with hints of lemon and berry.

Queen Fen gestured for the servants to plate the food for her and her guests.

Sipping her wine, she continued, “It’s not just the face. It’s your height. Your figure. If you colored your hair, men would be giving up their seats for other reasons.”

“I like her hair the way it is,” Dalinar interjected.

“Of course you’d say that,” the older grey-haired woman scoffed. “If only beauty could win wars and coerce alliances” She looked directly at the former queen of Alethakar. “Is that how you and Gavilar did it? Unite the Alethi with your charm and good looks?”

Navani almost spit out the vegetable curry in her mouth upon mention of her dead husband. In private, with Dalinar, it didn’t bother her to discuss him. They could control the conversation. But in public, it was sometimes a painful reminder that she had chosen his brother. A choice that had left Dalinar heartbroken.

She was about to redirect the conversation to a different topic when Dalinar said for her, “No, Fen. It was their combined brilliance that brought Alethkar together.”

“And let me guess. You were the brawn, Blackthorn,” she added, while taking a bite of the spicy fish. “From what we saw this afternoon, you still are.”

“But that’s why we need your help with the Azish, Fen,” Navani chimed. “With Gavilar, we still intimidated through force or guile. What we want now is transparency and diplomacy.”

“Yes, your new husband and I have discussed a plan for the Azish already. I take it he hasn’t explained it to you yet.” Fen mixed some curry sauce and fish broth in a bowl while speaking and tasted it. “You’ll need to polish up your brilliance as well as your Azish. We’ll be writing letters to them.” She drank the rest of the mixed soup directly from the bowl and smacked her lips in approval.

Navani looked to Dalinar, who nodded. She then asked the queen, “Do you think that would really work?”

 “While going about shirtless and repairing temples may work here, it certainly will not in Azir. You’ll end up with a fine, no matter how impressive your muscles are.” She tapped her finger on the table in Dalinar’s direction. “We’ll have to keep our shirts on and overwhelm them with our words instead. And we need to recruit that brilliant daughter of yours too.”

Despite what Fen had alluded to earlier, about lying and pandering, Navani found herself increasingly charmed by the older woman’s forwardness and confidence. Atypical for an Alethi woman. But well-suited for a Thaylen monarch.

The women continued to chat, while the men listened.

Dalinar had finished his fish and was waiting for Navani to eat the rest of her curry before they traded plates. For the Alethi, women’s food was sweet and men’s were spicy. And both Dalinar and Navani adhered to those preferences. He took sips of the blue wine while waiting, and a memory resurfaced. Sitting on the ground of their den. Sharing a meal with Evi, who was pregnant with Adolin. Pale hair worn loose to shoulder length. Golden eyes. Evi had enjoyed spicy food. For the first time he felt a pang of guilt - not about his brother- having Navani by his side, enjoying his new life. He finished the rest of the wine and motioned for a servant to pour some more.

After Navani had exchanged her plate of fish for Dalinar’s curry, she noted a distant look in his eyes. She tilted her head, ready to ask him a question, but instead Fen spoke to him, offering him advice on how to conduct himself while in Azir.

“Now Dalinar, the Azish won’t welcome a prolonged stay. We will want to plan a staged attack.” The Thaylen queen pushed her empty plate aside, held her hand in a fist, thumb on top, and shook it for emphasis. “Leave them wanting…”

A voice that had mostly been quiet that evening then spoke to Navani in Thaylen.

“My dear, do you not eat fish?” Kmakl asked.

Though Navani had intended to listen in our Fen and Dalinar’s discussion, she had enjoyed her conversation earlier with the prince consort. Her Thaylen could use more practice too. And so she happily refocused her attention to the older man.

Responding back in his language, she said, “No, Admiral. It’s an Alethi preference. Sweets for women. Spice for men.”

“Oh, how traditional!” he said with a chuckle. “That’s a pity because the blue wine pairs better with the fish than the curry. If I had known, I would have requested some Shin wine for you.”

It was then that Navani caught the twinkle in his eye. She took a drink of the alcohol available to her and swallowed down some of her anxiety with it, so she could confirm her suspicions.

“Admiral, were you the one who…gifted us those presents?”

“Why, of course,” he smiled. It might have looked suggestive, but the bits of food in his mustache were a distraction. “From one spouse of a monarch to another.”

Navani shifted in her seat, feeling uncomfortable. Was she being prudish again because  a man- the husband- had given her this gift, and not his wife? The intention was still the same, wasn’t it?

“Thank you for your thoughtfulness,” she finally said.

“My dear, I sense some hesitation in your response. But please do realize that The Passions is a common marriage gift in Thaylenah,” Kmakl said as he wiped his mouth and cleaned his mustache with a napkin. “Like my wife has already declared, you are a vision, especially tonight, but you needn’t worry. I’m not spying on you in your rooms if that’s what concerns you.” He spoke the last sentence in Alethi, possibly so that Dalinar could understand.

His sincerity was enough to answer her previous question. “You must pardon my… prudishness. You have shown us nothing but kindness. Please accept my apologies.”

“No need for that, my dear.” Kmakl gently patted her arm in its sleeve. “This alliance is most welcome, but a friendship would be a blessing.”

Liberated from some of her prejudice, Navani said with a smile, “I have faith that the Passions have already answered those prayers.”

---

The younger couple returned to their rooms which had been tidied up for them. Clothes cleaned and neatly folded. The laces of Navani’s bodice replaced. The bed made and the washroom sorted. Only that they were both too tipsy to notice. And they had other distractions.

Dalinar locked the door behind them, setting his boots aside at the entry. He removed his belt and leg holster for his knife, as well as the ill-fitting shirt and pants, replacing them with a belted robe. Navani had loosened the outer bodice of her dress. With the ties undone, her back was partially exposed. She sat on a cushioned stool in front of the vanity mirror, brushing her hair.

“Dear one, can you find me something to wear to sleep?” she asked him.

Her husband searched the dresser drawers and pulled out a red-colored silk nightgown, then walked over to her.

Before handing it over, Dalinar stooped down and kissed an exposed shoulder, then traced his fingers over her open back and said, “I can think of another way to keep you warm.”

 She looked up at him with her entrancing violet eyes. “Still not full?”

“Never.” He cupped her chin and kissed her, then sat down on the ground below, so instead he was looking up at her. No longer embarrassed to gaze at her, he admired the contour of her cheeks, the shape of her full lips, the color and brilliance of her eyes. Before him was the most gorgeous painting come to life.

“What does ‘tlak vsyn ash’ mean?” he asked.

“Is that Thaylen?”

“My pronunciation is that bad?”

“A bit rough.“ She paused her brushing to answer him. “But it’s either ‘eyes like Ash’ or ‘tastes like Ash.’”

“Anyone lick you lately, but me?”

“What?” she said with a startled laugh.

“I’ll take that as a no. I’m telling you that guard has a crush on you.”

“’Ash’s eyes’ could mean he was surprised.”

“By your beauty, no doubt.”

Navani rolled her eyes, then moved on to removing her makeup with a towel she had wet at the basin. “We don’t even know what she really looked like. Shalash could have been Shin or have gold-colored eyes.”

“The Herald of Beauty? A Shin? Unlikely. Her temples always depict her as a violet-eyed Alethi.”

“Fine then,” she relented. “You have a rival now. Happy?” His wife poured lotion on her hands and applied it to her face and neck. “Shall I have you two arm wrestle each other for me?”

“Only if you want me to win,” he grinned. She smiled back, then playfully kicked him with her bare foot.

“You’ve had too much to drink.” She then stood up to take off her dress, and Dalinar got up to assist.

“Maybe,” he said as he helped pull off the Thaylen dress. “But there’s something else I want to taste.”

Navani had just slipped the red nightgown over her head and thought she may have misheard him. “What did you say?” She was about to turn around, but he held her from behind.

“I’m asking you,” he whispered near the side of her head. “If I can have a taste?” He lowered one hand, placing it in the middle over her gown, between her legs.

She froze and her body tensed. Navani then pulled his hand away and broke the embrace. “You’re being silly,” she said tersely and walked to the bed. “It’s late, let’s just get some rest.”

He stood there for a minute, puzzled by her rejection.

After he laid down next to her, he was unsure if he should touch her. But then she decided for him, rolling towards him and hugging him as she often did in bed, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Is something wrong?” he asked softly, looking down towards her.

“No. I’m just tired,” she answered without facing him.

He gently ran his fingers through her hair and said, “I’m sorry if that was unpleasant.”

“It’s not your fault.” She sighed, then turned her head up to look at him. “I’m just feeling prudish. Maybe I needed more alcohol.” She smiled but he knew it wasn’t genuine, and there he saw the pain in her eyes.

Anger welled inside Dalinar. Someone had hurt her. The woman he loved so dearly. But once again, he couldn’t solve this problem by punching anyone.

That person was dead.

That person was his brother.

He laid there for a while with her, unsure if his words would be the right ones, but finally said them anyway.

“Gemheart?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m happy with how things are now. We don’t have to change anything.” He put his other arm around her and pulled her more tightly into the embrace. “Please don’t force yourself. Never let me do anything that causes you pain. Promise me?”

She held back her tears and simply said, “Yes.”

“I love you.”

“I know.” And she kissed the top of his chest, over the heart that belonged to her.

----

“Anything interesting?” the Thaylen monarch asked.

“Just boring sex stuff,” her husband reported, as he removed his clothes to ready himself for bed. “A knife was mentioned. We almost had someone intervene, but it was a false alarm. In any case, they are as sincere as they seem in person.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You gave them the book, didn’t you?”

“It is a very good wedding present,” he asserted.

 “With the pictures?”

He nodded. “It wouldn’t be a wedding present without it.”

“You really do like her, don’t you.” Fen finished her nighttime skin routine, applying the cream to her face, neck, and hands, and then took off her clothes.

“If only because she reminds me of you, dearest.”

She snorted. “You should be glad that I actually agree with you on that.” The queen slid into the bed under the blankets with her husband, naked as was their custom.

“If anyone has the right to be jealous it should be me,” the older man said as he pulled on his nightcap and tucked his long eyebrows inside them.

“Really? On what grounds?” his wife demanded with folded arms.

“Spending an entire afternoon with a shirtless Blackthorn?” His snatched eyebrows moved up in playful accusation.

 “Too blocky. You know I prefer a leaner build.” She gave him a light kiss, then hit her pillow a few times to shape it. “What did you tell Navani about how we met?”

“Oh, the truth without the details. How you took pity on a lonely, older man.”

“Who was being paid to spy on me,” she scoffed as she laid down.

“Then failed fantastically, when I fell in love with my target,” he added. Kmakl placed his head on a pillow next to hers. “If you hadn’t known already, you probably would have had me killed.”

Fen laughed. “I did enjoy feeding you misinformation. But you would have eventually caught on. Thankfully, I bedded you before that and drew out your confession.” She looked at her aging husband adoringly. “To think you were a seasoned spy.”

“You were my only failure after twenty-five years. I couldn’t resist.” He reached out and took her safehand to kiss it. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“Only if you keep your promise to outlive me.”

“If that’s what you desire, dearest, then I shall pray to both the Almighty and the Passions to see it through.”

---

The next morning, Dalinar went to check on Renarin who had spent the evening hanging out with Kdralk, Fen and Kmakl’s son. Navani walked by the passageway from their villa with her escorts, and she took note of the guard that Dalinar had repeatedly mentioned. Indeed, he was staring at her. But it wasn’t a look of infatuation. Navani was familiar with that look. Rather, it looked like he had a question.

Curious and wanting to settle the issue, Navani spoke to the green-eyed man.

“Soldier, did you have something you’d like to ask me?” she asked in Thaylen.

The man avoided her gaze and bowed deeply.

“Apologies your Brightness!” he shouted while keeping his head bowed. “I.. I.. overhead your conversation with the prince consort the other day. My wife…”

“Stop for a moment,” Navani said. She looked to her escorts. “Please give us some space.” Then turned back to the Thaylen guard. “You may continue, but I’d understand it better if you weren’t bent over.”

The man straightened up. He was about the same height as she was, but he continued looking down, too nervous to meet her eyes.

“My wife is due with our second child. She nearly bled to death with our first one.” He slowly reached for his belt pouch and retrieved something from a small pocket, not large enough to hide anything dangerous and alarm her escorts. “This is a lock of my wife’s eyebrow. Brightness, if you are willing, would you please bless it?” He held the white strands of hair, tied up in a green ribbon, in front of him between his thumb and finger.

“When is your wife due?”

“In two months.”

Navani considered that there would be a better alternative by that time. “By now, you must have heard about the Blackthorn’s son. He’s a Radiant with healing powers. We expect there are others like him who will be discovered soon. Your wife hopefully will not need my blessing when your child is born.”

The man looked up briefly, disappointed, and nearly withdrew his hand. But he took a deep breath and then said, “Brightness, I would ask for it anyway. My mother told me that childbirth is women’s work. A blessing from a lady, a mother, who is as kind and beautiful as you are, would be most welcome.”

It seemed a small gesture. Couldn’t hurt right? Navani held the man’s hand with the lock of hair in between her freehand and safesleeve and said, “I pray that your wife has a safe delivery and your child is healthy.”

“Thank you. Thank you,” the man said, then proceeded to bow to her about ten times.

---

Navani sat on a trunk on the Oathgate platform. The wedding gifts as well as books on Azir and other offerings were all packed inside. She occupied herself working on the sketches of her airships, while waiting for them to arrive.

Finally, Fen and Kmakl waved to her from afar. Dalinar shook Fen’s hand, then walked over with Renarin. While her Radiant nephew went ahead to work on the locking mechanism, she stood up and took Dalinar’s arm.

“You were wrong about the guard by the way,” she told him.

“I was?”

“He is very much in love with his very pregnant wife.”

“That doesn’t exclude the possibility he’s attracted to you. It could be both.”

Navani frowned in her mind- her ego slightly bruised. Dalinar just outdid her with a logical explanation.

“Maybe,” she conceded. “But his real interest had to do with something I had done a long time ago. And he thought it might help his wife.”

“About fabrials?”

“No. I’ll tell you about it some other time. It’s related to Elhokar’s birth.”

Dalinar recalled memories. Her sickness. The smell of blood. A fatal promise. They then spoke at the same time.

“That was one of the worst days of my life” he said.
“That was one of the best days of my life,” she said.

Navani looked to him, confused.

“You don’t remember?” Dalinar asked.

“Remember what?”

“Nothing important.”

“The worst day of your life sounds important.”

“An exaggeration.”

Navani furrowed her eyebrows trying to remember. Then, the Oathgate flashed and they were home.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you,” she said.

“Nothing to tell.” He gently removed her hand from his arm and checked his arm clock fabrial. “I have a meeting with my generals to attend. I’ll see you later this evening.”

Navani folded her arms and watched her husband’s figure grow smaller as he walked off in the distance. She’d probably have to bully him to reveal the information later, but she now had her own meetings to attend.

---

Later that evening, his wife walked up to him and hugged him as he entered their rooms in Urithiru.

She tilted her head up to look at him and said, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” he asked as she pulled away slightly to make it easier to speak to him.

“Well, I still don’t remember any of it. But the only logical explanation is that I asked you to kill me.” She had read through her journals, but no conversation between them was recorded. She hypothesized that she had been too delirious from the blood loss and medications to remember anything.

He gently squeezed her shoulders then said, “Gemheart, that was a long time ago. There’s no need to apologize.”

“It’s an awful thing to ask of anyone. To bear that kind of responsibility. I should have asked Gavilar.”

“But he wasn’t there.”

“When he returned, he could have done it. I could have left instructions with you and Evi.”

“You were afraid he wouldn’t be able to do it right away.”

“I must have been delusional and delirious. He’d have no use for me after I gave him an heir. It would be simple enough to replace me with one of his other women.”

“Is that how you remember it? I’m not trying to defend him. But I recall he was quite distraught.”

“That was after Jasnah. When we were young and still in love.” Dalinar was certain it was after both, but it was better to leave it alone then assume he knew more about their relationship than she did.

“Well, it all worked out in the end. No one had to murder you,” he said in cheery tone, to lighten the mood.

“I think I asked you because I didn’t trust him.” She pursed her lips, still sorting through her thoughts. “I really didn’t understand him, especially in our last years together.”

“No one did,” he reassured her.

Navani then released him from the embrace and took his hand instead, leading him into the bedroom.

“There’s one more thing I wanted to apologize for.”

“You’ve lost me again.”

“For acting odd last night. For--“ He walked ahead of her and turned around to face her.

“No,” he said firmly. “You promised me.” She smiled, having expected this response from him. It made her happy all the same.

“Then let me apologize to myself.”  He looked at her, questioning. She stepped closer to him, maneuvering her safehand out of its sleeve to caress his face. “You don’t know how long I’ve dreamt about you, touching me like that.” Her other hand still held his, and she lifted it up to her own face. “I know you would never hurt me. What happened last night was a reflex. One I intend to overcome.”

“Navani, please don’t push yourself.”

“It’s as much for me as it is for you, dearest. Probably more,” she said teasingly. “But there is also something I want now.” She drew her safehand down from his face, across his chest and abdomen, and held it in the middle in between his legs. “I want to taste something too.”

She looked at him with her brilliant violet eyes, but his own eyes had already wandered over to her red-painted full lips. She could feel him stiffen in her hand.

Dalinar tried to clear his mind to speak to her but couldn’t. He wanted to make sure she didn’t see this as some kind of exchange, but he was suddenly a teenager again. He has fantasized about this. And he didn’t want her to stop. He desperately wanted this to happen.

“We’ll get to that picture in The Passions eventually. But I’d like some practice before that,” she explained.

“You don’t—” Dalinar managed, but she then started to stroke him through his trousers.

“I know I don’t, gemheart. I want to. You know how curious I can be. And I thought you said you would be open to my suggestions.”

“Anything,” he answered, breathlessly.

“Good.” She then let go of him completely. “Now take off all your clothes, go lie on the bed and let me suck on you.”

Notes:

The chapter is a bit long.

Mainly thought of this OB scene because Dalinar is going around shirtless.

Dalinar/Navani will be more sexually adventurous the next few chapters, and it felt necessary to use this as a transition- and also have her process some of the trauma in her first marriage.

Had a lot of fun writing about Fen and Kmakl. There's a great love story in there too.

WoR Chapter 1:
"Of course, Thaylens were all a little off. How else to describe Yalb and the others wearing no shirts despite the chill in the air?"
= they might as well sleep in the nude

OB Chapter 12:
Referring to Fen
"“I always did like her,” Navani noted."

OB Chapter 19:
"Ialai leaned down the table toward Dalinar, speaking conspiratorially. “They go about half-clothed out in the far west, you know. Rirans, Iriali, the Reshi. They aren’t as inhibited as these prim Alethi women. I bet she’s quite exotic in the bedroom...."

Kama Sutra inspiration of course

My favorite line/scene in chapter:
"While he spoke, he slid his hand inside her sleeve and held her safehand, massaging her palm between his thumb and fingers rhythmically. Somehow, he had unbuttoned it while she was talking. He continued, slowly working his way up her arm, stroking and pressing, making it just past her elbow, before the clothing’s stretch could no longer accommodate his large hand."

"Anyone lick you lately, but me?”

Chapter 5: Literacy Rules (OB)

Summary:

Return from the Battle of Thaylen Field

Navani teaches Dalinar to write

Notes:

Epigraph
10d countdown after SA5 published

As soon as she had stepped out of the Oathgate, Navani was beset with the demands of running one of last bastions of humanity, Urithiru. She sighed both in relief and irritation. They were finally home after the grueling events at Thaylen City. Most have settled to calling it the Battle of Thaylen Field.

While Dalinar and his generals tended to military operations, the logistics of running a city of thousands were left to Navani, her scholars and engineers. This was the expected division of labor agreed between an Alethi ruler and his wife, no different from how she and Gavilar had governed. But there were many days in which that division felt monumentally unbalanced. The Alethi were constantly at war, conquering one another or their neighbors, so the men thought themselves well-occupied and burdened. But who wrote and read their battle commands, recorded treaties and terms of surrender then memorialized them in the histories? Who offered more? One could not fabricate potable water by punching other men and breaking teeth. It was a miracle that their kingdom thrived despite half its population, willfully, illiterate.

When Dalinar asked her to teach him how to read, not a single bone in her body rejected the proposal. She would have broken into a song and dance right then and there, if not for their mutual physical and emotional exhaustion. Reading to your husband was conveniently labeled a form of intimacy, but like many relationship duties, it simply devolved into yet another chore. Illiteracy as an excuse to forgo responsibility was all too commonplace.

Navani allowed herself another moment of peace to admire the majesty of the Tower above the clouds from the Oathgate. Not very long ago, she had regarded Urithiru as only a temporary home, a transition, until they could reclaim Kholinar and the rest of Alethkar. But now that hope had blackened and burned out as sure as if it had been fatally struck by Shardblade. Kholinar was lost. Her son’s life sacrificed in vain. She would now have to bottle grief again to manage the needs of the Tower and its citizens. It had been barely a month since her reportedly deceased daughter had been returned to her, and Navani found herself once again besieged by the loss of a child. She couldn’t help but briefly wonder if Dalinar was right. God must be dead- for how could the Almighty knowingly condemn anyone to the repeat torture of a mother’s grief?

Rushu ran to her first with a critical report, which she had graciously waited to deliver upon her return, instead of messaging it to her via spanreed in Thaylen, as others had done. Navani’s “favorite” subject, sanitation. The attractive, but absentminded ardent nervously shuffled through a stack of papers, attempting to locate the specific report in question.

“Navani, thank Jezrereh, you have finally arrived! The Soulcaster in District 11 broke, and they hadn’t been able to clear their waste.”

“Ugh. We have only been gone for a few days, how bad could it be?” Navani groaned.

“You know how poorly the air circulates there. And no one wants to relocate to the outer section where the ventilation is better, simply because it is too cold. If only we better understood the mechanics of the Tower,” Rushu lamented.

“They can borrow a Soulcaster from one of the other districts,” Navani replied sharply.

“But that’s just it. One was borrowed and that Soulcaster has already run out of Stormlight. And now the citizens of District 12 are blaming District 11! There’s been threats of a….” Rushu leaned in and whispered awkwardly, “Of a poop throwdown.”

Navani shook her head. Soulcasters – and Soulcasting- were technically the property of the royal Kholinar family, and they had once charged fees for this service, but nowadays it was more often granted freely. Assigning Soulcasters to districts and allowing them control of its uses was one method of appeasing the populace, who were forced to live more frugally as infused spheres were still under ration. Thankfully at least, the solution to this crisis manifested itself recently.

“Rushu, please draft a proclamation, asking all citizens to bring their unlit spheres to the Breakaway at noon tomorrow. My husband has a gift for them. We will also need to come up with a plan to organize the crowd, so that it does not turn into a mob. Bring it to me later this afternoon for my review.”

“Oh, yes!” Rushu replied, eyes lit up with wonder. “I had read the reports on how Brightlord Kholin was able to turn the tide at Thaylen City. But… I did not expect that to be a commonly repeated feat.”

“Dalinar still needs time to rest and recharge, which is why we will wait until tomorrow. And one more thing, on your way back to your quarters, could you place this in a secure location in the engineer’s library room?” This room was slowly turning into a laboratory, but they hadn’t quite thought of a proper title for it yet. Navani unwrapped the object from its covering and held out a large oddly-lit ruby, which seemed to warp and pull light into itself.

Rushu reached for it, but then fumbled again with her papers to free up both hands and ended up dropping most of them. This - despite not wearing a safehand sleeve, as was the practice among female ardents who were considered genderless.

Navani frowned, “Nevermind. I’ll do it myself.”

Rushu, oblivious to Navani’s displeasure, gladly accepted her majesty’s offer. Navani then asked one of her attendants to send out a request for appointments from the monarchs, highborns, merchants and poop-throwing rabble rousers. It would be a long day, so she also requested their meals to be delivered later this evening to their rooms. She looked at Dalinar who was busy answering questions from his own entourage of officers and military bureaucrats, and she flashed a quick smile that he would know to mean, Off we go, until later.

Before she pulled away, he made a motion for his subordinates to hold, then walked over to his wife and took her free hand. He squeezed it and asked, “What time should I set?”

“Shall we say eight hours from now?”

“No lunch?”

"We have a monarch’s meeting at that time, so let’s reconvene then and recalibrate,” Navani offered.

“Good idea.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

From the way he lingered a bit, she could tell that he still wanted stay close to her, maybe a hug before they parted. But the pull of Alethi propriety was too strong, in public, in the proximity of others, as their leaders. So, he let the moment pass, savoring the hand touch, and stored the rest of his yearning for safekeeping later, as he has practiced many many times over, these past few decades.

---

A grueling ten hours later, Navani dragged her new entourage, jets of exhaustionspren as she entered their rooms. Poop crisis averted, though no gloryspren exulted in her triumph. She probably should have checked first with Dalinar about the plan to recharge the spheres tomorrow, but sometimes in rulership one must just surge forward and make the decisions as they arise, otherwise work would progress too slowly. And they could always adapt the plan if needed. More so, she was confident in his abilities as he had been able to re-open the perpendicularity a few times already, and the arm clock, her wondrous gift, and occasional curse, would keep him on schedule.

She was less confident in how easy it would be to teach him how to read and write. Dalinar certainly wasn’t a chull head, despite how frequently he pointed out their intellectual disparity. He’d also looked at enough battle orders to infer most of the basics. But determination and decisiveness, qualities they both shared and were essential in leadership, could readily transform into obstinance and impatience when unbound.

Navani walked into their rooms, and not to her surprise, Dalinar had already settled in before she arrived.

"Meal, drink or bath?” he asked.

“Sequentially, in reverse order,” she replied.

 “Drink?”

“Unalon tea, please.”

“The bathwater is clean, and it will take fifteen minutes or so to heat up.”

“Oh, so they did install the new tub heating fabrial while we were gone?”

 “They did,” Dalinar answered, as he walked over to his exhausted wife.

Navani smiled, at least a few productive things were accomplished, while they were away.

He then finally embraced her with a kiss too. Not a passionate one, but a heartfelt one, familiar and comforting. And just as wonderful.

You must be tired, we can start the lessons tomorrow,” Dalinar offered.

Navani shook her weary head, “No. I’d rather start now and sleep later tomorrow than wake up early to make up for lost time. You should eat your dinner while you wait for me.” She then smiled, forgivingly. “If you haven’t already.”  Another one of their unspoken rules. It was often too difficult to synchronize their schedule. No meal-waiting required.

“That just means I am now free to provide any assistance you may require. Undressing, washing, dressing. Or in the reverse, if that pleases you.”

Less than half a year ago, he could barely look at her without acting like a fool, unable to speak without sputtering or inadvertently staring at her. Their relationship and comfort with another had evolved so quickly, already knowing each other for decades the most likely reason. But perhaps it was the oaths too, it nearly washed away all his guilt. And a simple act such as her holding his arm in public, free to act like a proper couple without judgement, brought him great joy. He hugged her even closer.

“Generous, but I’ll manage more quickly on my own. I will place your suggestions on tomorrow night’s schedule,” she replied cheerily, and then pulled away so she could go about her tasks. Navani wasn’t a Radiant, and Dalinar had not opened a Perpendicularity for Stormlight, but somehow she felt a sizeable portion of her exhaustion lifted.

Storming remarkable man. How lucky she was to have regained his heart after all these years. Though, Dalinar always said, she never lost it. He had loved Evi though. And it never pained her to understand that. Just as he understood she had once loved his brother.

----

Navani sat in the heated bathtub, encased in the most glorious and soothing warmth. Her skin had pruned long ago, but her body seemed to resist her mind’s call to hasten. She was close to drifting asleep, when Dalinar finally walked in.

“Is everything ok?” he asked.

Her eyes snapped open. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be out right now.”

She got up, a bit too quickly, and nearly stumbled. But the room was small, and he was close enough to catch her before she fell, though he was now more than a little wet.

Navani pursed her lips. “Too early for a second bath?” she quipped.

He held her up comfortably with one of his impressive arms, then grabbed a nearby towel with his other hand and handed it to her. Navani took the towel and wrapped it across her torso. With the torment of his returned memories and subsequent drinking, the painstaking preparations for battle on top of the usual obligations of rulership, it had been weeks since they’ve had sex. Dalinar briefly lamented how swiftly he had retrieved that towel for her.

He challenged, “Perhaps, but maybe not too early for other activities?”

“I am beginning to question the earnestness of your request to learn how to read and write,” she chided. “You’ve known how I felt about Alethi male illiteracy. This must all be a ploy to bed me.”

He laughed, “If that’s what it would take, then give me a library.” And he hugged her again. “Are you sure you still want to proceed with the lesson?” Dalinar checked again.

“Absolutely. Look, no exhaustionspren.” She lifted a foot from the bath and wiggled her toes, her stance perfectly held in balance by her husband.

 “Well,” he said as he lifted her out of the bath, “while you get dressed, I will exchange my wet clothes for dry ones, Then, I’ll meet you in the study.”

“Excellent plan, commander.”

---

Navani dried herself off quickly, roughly patting down her wet hair, but before she moved to put on her clothes, a thought occurred to her. Seize what you can. A tiny stormcloud poofed above her head, a rarely encountered logicspren. It would be more efficient to do this activity now, while they were already unclothed.

So, she stormed into the room, and found Dalinar mostly undressed, pulling out a drawer for a change of clothes.

“Stop right there!”

Dalinar looked to her, confused. She dropped the towel that covered her modesty, and strode up to him, and his confusion transformed into recognition.

Her naked breasts pressed into his bare chest. And in that moment, Dalinar considered how holding hands was like sweets to children. A hug and a kiss, like the first taste of good wine and an extraordinary vintage. But nothing could adequately describe how this was for him, when nothing separated them, and his appetite for it was insatiable.

A single gloryspren circled above him.

 "What was that for?” Navani said, as she placed both hands across his upper chest.

“It feels good to be right, occasionally, in our relationship,” he grinned.

Storming man. She repositioned her arms around his neck and pulled him down so she could kiss him. This time tiny flakes like crystalline snow floated around them.

---

Late in the night…

“Dalinar, you have to go more slowly. You need to trace this letter at least a dozen more times before moving on to the next one,” his wife scolded him.

"But these look good to me. And at this rate, we’ll need to teach Adolin to read and write because I’ll be dead before I even start writing this storming book!” he replied with exasperation.

“You know that ask is nigh impossible. Penmanship is important, and you’ll pick up poor habits that will be much harder to correct later,” she entreated. “Look,” she continued, and picked up a pen and started writing. “Do you see these two sentences? This one word contains a letter that looks similar to the one you started writing here.” She pointed to a letter at the beginning of his tracing. “Now see here. If we take that same word, and change that single letter, to the one you ended up writing at the end of your tracing…” Navani pointed aggressively to and from the matching letters.

Dalinar understood enough to understand the meaning of the second word. Men couldn’t be bothered to read, but boys. Well, boys. Boys loved graffiti. He sighed, fearing the answer to his next question.

“So, what does each sentence say?”

“’Can you please “sit” here?’” she said while running her finger across the sentence, then doing the same for the next sentence. ”And ‘Can you please “shit” here?” Navani paused for effect. “Is that what you really want Queen Fen to read at the next monarch’s meeting?” she demanded.

Dalinar bellowed aloud, tears welling in his eyes. He imagined the intensely disapproving expression on the Thalyen queen’s face, nose pinched, long curled white eyebrows askew, arms tightly folded. Silver minnows darted throughout the air to join him in laughter. Navani broke into a wide smile too, which then poorly contained the giggling that followed, as surely as if he had transmitted the same image into her mind.

“Let’s just continue this again tomorrow. It’s been a long day,” she relented.

Dalinar wiped away his tears, then said, “You’ve proven your point. I’ll work on this letter a few dozen more times, then I’ll join you in bed later.” As if answering in agreement, she kissed the top of his greying head lovingly, and squeezed his shoulders. Navani contemplated, maybe these lessons could be more fun than she anticipated. A welcome distraction from grief over her son’s death. And she then again decided she would just enjoy it while it lasts.

She nearly walked out of the study back into the bedroom when another nagging thought demanded her attention. It had been brewing for weeks, but there wasn’t a time in which the mood seemed appropriate. It should have been obvious to her to bring it up earlier, since she felt its proof a short while ago.

“Dalinar..”

“Hmm..dearest?” he said absently, while diligently tracing the letters, not looking up from his work.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you for some time now. I realized something after re-reading the accounts on your visit with the Azish.”

“Oh?” he replied, still valiantly tracing.

“You spoke about how you could connect, with people, understand their language, just by touching them.”

He finally stopped to look up, understanding now that this may not be a short conversation. “Yes, it’s the reason I can understand people in the visions from different Desolations. What’s the matter?”

“Well, haven’t you noticed, that sometimes when we make love that..” her voiced trailed. Dalinar eyes widened with a realization, and then he couldn’t hear the rest. He was too embarrassed and flushed to understand her words.

Notes:

RoW
“Navani finished her notes, covering a smile as she found Dalinar reading over her shoulder. That was still a decidedly odd experience, for all that she tried to encourage him.”
= Navani loves that her man can read

My favorite line/scene in chapter:
"Dalinar understood enough to understand the meaning of the second word. Men couldn’t be bothered to read, but boys. Well, boys loved graffiti. He sighed, fearing the answer to his next question."

Chapter 6: A Cure for Writer's Block (E) (OB-RoW)

Summary:

Dalinar has a case of writer's block, and Navani is feeling cerebral.
- sex scenes
- corny love scene

Bare-chested and only wearing a takama after an impromptu sparring match followed by bath, Dalinar walked into their chambers over to his writing desk. It was a rare afternoon for the couple. A day in which they were free from meetings and taking care of everyone else.

Navani sat at her own desk, drinking her tea. She had fallen behind on her memoirs and was not looking for any distractions. Dalinar found a shirt before he sat down.

Good, Navani thought.

He then sat there for some time, chin propped up on one hand, pen unmoving, staring at the blank pages.

Navani, quite familiar with that look, took pity.

“Having difficulty finding the words?”

 “I thought some physical activity would help me clear my head, but I’m nowhere closer than before.” Dalinar rubbed his forehead. “The first part flowed so easily. I’m not sure how to continue.”

“Sometimes you can’t force it. It’ll come to you dearest. Just give it time.”

Dalinar frowned. Time was a precious commodity, and he had an incredible urgency to complete his book. Today would be a waste.

Navani, sensing his displeasure, finished drinking the rest of her tea, then walked over to him. She wore a simple gown made for comfort, that failed to hide her curves. Her safehand was uncovered, no need for modesty in their private world. She placed both hands on his strong shoulders and squeezed them, before kissing the top of his head fondly.

“Would you like some help?”

He looked up at her, and felt her loose hair tickle his face.

“What did you have in mind?”

Her hands slid forward, under his shirt and across his chest. Soft, slender fingers.

“Perhaps, another kind of physical activity.” She smiled slyly, her violet eyes sparkling. “Less strenuous and more relaxing.”

Transfixed, Dalinar started to rise from his seat, but Navani moved her hands back to his shoulders and pushed him down. “Hold on, soldier. As your writing instructor,” she explained. “I must have you first watch and learn.”

As she walked around him, she pressed her fingers across his upper back, making him feel giddy. Then left him wanting when she left for the vanity. There she retrieved the bottle of lotion she routinely used. Navani poured a generous amount into her hands and spread it over her palms and fingers. Dalinar stared at her from his chair, as anticpationspren sprung from his feet.

“Please turn your chair around.” The student obeyed without question, then sat back down waiting for his lesson to begin.

She returned with a seat cushion and stood in front of him to gently cup his chin with her safehand, lifting his face up for appraisal. Dalinar breathed in the light floral scent from her delicate hand. It smelled of her. He had already begun to stiffen.

“A little rough around the edges. And one too many worry lines.” She dipped down, casually exposing her cleavage. Then placed the tip of her tongue precisely at the corner of his lips and slowly moved it across his face towards his cheekbone, ending at his ear. “But I love the taste,” she whispered. Dalinar so badly wanted to pull his wife down, seize her, press into her luscious lips and devour her. But he held onto his restraint, as he has done, many times before. Another thought occurred to him, and Navani understood the look, or rather question.

“No, dear one. No need to open the Connection. The intention…” She dropped the cushion decidedly in front of his chair, knelt on top of it, then placed both hands on his bare knees, parting them as she looked up. “Is to do this as quickly as possible.” Under his takama, she lightly grasped where he had grown solid with her safehand. Dalinar grunted and closed his eyes to magnify the sensation.  “So, you can settle into a nice nap.”

Navani then removed his belt and uncovered him completely. Before she began, gazing at him, she half-complained, “Dalinar, I can’t tell if you’re listening or not.” Then she started stroking him lightly, her fingers occasionally circling the sensitive tip. “We might need to repeat this lesson.” He breathed heavily and his mind lost its ability to produce sensible words. She paused. “But I did tell you to watch.” And he then felt both hands encircle him at the base, forcing his eyes to open. Which briefly met hers.

She bent forward and took him into her mouth, causing Dalinar to groan. Her tongue and hands began to slide over him again and again, activating every single nerve. It felt amazing. It looked unreal. The most beautiful woman he has ever known, touching him so intimately. He could die now, pleased with how he lived his life.

Navani’s could see Dalinar’s large muscular thighs twitch with tension as she gradually increased her speed. His eyes were closed again and his hands gripped armrests tightly. Better there than on her head. Normally, she trusted Dalinar’s ability to contain his strength, but not in this state.

She took him in as deep as she comfortably could. Gagging would only interrupt her rhythm. With more practice, she was certain she could become better at it, but she lacked the experience from her first husband. He had other women for it. Today was also Dalinar’s “lesson,” not hers. No need to push herself. She was in a cerebral mood and asking him to avoid the Connection was quite intentional. She did not want her mind muddied by his arousal. Navani had to get back to her writing.

She flicked her tongue near his tip with increasing frequency and pressure at each pass. A familiar taste entered her mouth. And she did enjoy his taste, at least more than the only other example she had. It was difficult not to compare the two. As brothers, they shared similarities. Though, the bitter end of that other relationship likely colored her perceptions.

She and her new husband were now married for almost a year. Without question they were making up for lost time. Navani lamented that they’d never surpass the number of times she had been with her first husband in their nearly thirty years of marriage. But their delayed union and maturity had its advantages too. With a bit of inspiration, they were unsparingly adventurous driven by an urgency that age would diminish their ability.

She wondered again - how different would it have been if she had chosen him instead? Dalinar was a changed man. Open-minded, less impetuous, in control. And they also had the Connection. In his youth, possessed by the Thrill, would their love have survived decades? Or fail miserably like what she had with his brother? Navani abruptly banished these thoughts. She was now being overly cerebral. Why bother with the possibilities of past? They were given this second chance, and they should enjoy it while it lasts.

Her current husband’s thin shirt poorly hid his dark nipples over his broad chest. His breath grew increasingly erratic. Eyes closed, he moaned. Sweat glinted his upper lip. She could see the outline of his tongue in his mouth, and her mind wandered back to a memory. Suddenly she felt desire stir between her legs.

Navani pushed it down and chastised herself. She needed to end this soon. Sorry, my love. I did warn you it would be quick. One hand held his base, while the other massaged underneath. She then pressed her tongue firmly near the tip over and over. And she knew this would finish him. He threw his head back and cried out in ecstasy. For someone who considered the Almighty dead, his word choice was unusual. Dalinar shuddered as his wife drained him, and then collapsed in the chair, catching breath.

Wiping her mouth with a sleeve, Navani left her husband to recover. She needed him to be slightly more alive before she could help him to bed.  At the wine cabinet, she poured herself a glass of pink to assist with her alertness. She had some writing to do.

After dampening a towel at the wash basin, she returned to her husband and helped him remove his shirt. Then dabbed the traces of sweat from his body, before affixing his belt over the takama. Dalinar opened his eyes, drowsy, but looking rather content. “Thank you,” he murmured before kissing her forehead. With his wife under his arm, he gracefully stumbled over to the bed, and drifted into the most wonderous nap, a smile on his face.

Navani looked at her watch. She may need to push back dinner.  Returning to her desk, she sat down and picked up her pen. Then, spun it back and forth in annoyance. Then, stared at the pages. Finally, head bowed down, she tapped her forehead on the table and groaned softly.

“Ugh,” she sighed, silently laughing at the irony. She would not dare wake up Dalinar now for his assistance. No matter, Navani Kholin, managed with a dead husband who was also dead in bed in the last years of their marriage. She became an expert in taking care of her own needs.

Keeping her head on the table, she lifted her gown and placed her safehand in the middle. She curled her fingers and pressed, circling and rhythmically moving back and forth. And recalled the recent look on her husband’s face, as she finished him. His spent, naked and chiseled body. Her mouth and lips pleasuring him. Her breath quickened. She thought about her hands intertwined in his hair, his tongue on her sex. Flickering. Sliding. Desperately wanting more. Feeling him deep inside her. Over and over. She reached out to an imagined memory, one she has replayed many times, in many variations.

The day at the Falls, when young Dalinar nearly kissed her in public.

He seizes her by the head, driving his tongue inside her mouth. Exploring her, inhaling her. And tears off his uniform jacket and shirt, pressing her tightly against his bare chest. Then moves on to attack her neck with his mouth. Others stand around and watch, too stunned to avert their gaze, mouths agape. She cries out falsely for him to stop, only to put her hand in his trousers to pull out what she needs and strokes him solid. He then rips away her dress, getting them both naked as quick as he can. They lay on the open ground - their clothes the only bedding, and he drives himself into her all the way, unyielding, stealing her virginity.

Hungry for more, she grabs him by his unruly hair with both hands, pulling him in for another kiss, her hips meeting his at every thrust. “I’m the only one you want Navani. The only one you need,” he growls.  She hooks her ankles around him, imploring him to go in deeper, harder. “Fuck me, Dalinar. Fuck me so hard I can’t remember my name.” He raises both her legs and angles in, answering her, their bodies slapping together violently, their moans and grunts echoing across the cliffside.

Shocked expressions from the Alethi lighteyes. Fucking hypocrites. Fuck them. Fuck Gavilar and his fucking smug beard. We are going to fucking save the world. So let us fuck. Young Navani has already climaxed more than once, but young Dalinar isn’t done yet. He turns her around, puts her on her knees and enters her again. His large hands palm both breasts as he pounds into her furiously, his thighs smacking loudly against her cheeks. She cries out as he crests over and over again inside her core, and she feels her own wetness dribbling down her inner thighs. He then raises her upright so he can meet her face, not stopping his lower motions. She turns and their tongues find each other first before their mouths lock. He reaches one hand down and rubs her until she comes again and again.

Navani’s fingers moved in a furious frenzy. She shut her eyes tighter, brow knitted, breath erratic, pushing her legs together to contain the sensation. She finally arrived, then shivered in abject pleasure, letting out an audible gasp, which she tried to stifle with a sleeve, and then felt the release wash over her.

A few moments later, she groggily got up and washed up at the basin. She then removed her gown and underclothes. Moving to the bed, she slid her naked body next to her husband under the blanket. Warm enough, she thought smiling. He turned to place his arm around her, so she could use his shoulder as a pillow. Kissing the top of her head, he whispered sleepily, “You too?” He must have heard her. “Sorry I was not there to help.”

“Oh Dalinar. Trust me, you were there” She snuggled closer, letting out a pleased sigh. “And very instrumental in fact. I’ll tell you more later.” The couple napped together, quite contently.

---

They were up thirty minutes later to the ding of Navani’s fabrial feeling extremely refreshed. Dalinar completed three more chapters, while Navani wrote a few entries, and made edits to nearly fifty pages. She also reviewed and signed off on requests from her engineers. Even she was surprised at their level of productivity.

They decided to take dinner on the balcony - Dalinar’s suggestion. He moved over the heating fabrial, while Navani set down a large blanket. Both then grabbed cushions, pillows and extra blankets to fashion a comfortable fort.

After their meal, they moved their plates and cups to the side, and lay with their backs against the plush stacks, relaxing together, staring up at the red-blue sky as the sun began to set.

Dalinar asked, “Dearest, let me know what you think about the sections I have written about you.” Navani lowered her eyes, her face held in a thoughtful expression. The silence made him nervous.

“I think.” She turned to look at him. “Truthfully, you might want to cut back on those parts.” Dalinar furrowed his brow, troubled, so his wife further explained. “Oh, what you’ve written is lovely, but it’s a bit too laudatory. The book is supposed to describe how you’ve changed. How a man can change. But, I’m not sure I’ve had any part in your transformation.” Navani wasn’t saying this to be modest. She truly believed this.

“Navani.” He reached out with both hands to hold hers “I could not be the man I am today without you. You knew me as I once was, and as I am now. You’ve been with me throughout my entire journey. I did love Evi. I remember that now. And she…” His eyes averted, the pain was still there, as it should be. And so he closed his eyes to temper it. Navani caressed his face with her other hand, steadying him. He opened them again, her violet eyes bringing him back into focus.

“She made me more honorable. But it was loving you first. Wanting you. But not being able to be with you that taught me restraint. And I needed that to combat the Thrill.” She could see the light in his eyes, and his words drew her in like a fire on a cold night. “And then you stormed into the warcamps, armed with your sincerity and brilliance. You gave me hope from my madness. You believed in me more than I believed in myself. You’ve stood up for me countless of times when my back was bowed. You give me courage and strength. You bring me to life. You are my life’s light. My only gemheart. The love of my life.” He spoke to her clearly, his voice resonating into her magnificently. The same voice she fell in love with all those years ago. Passionspren floated in the air, approving Dalinar’s effusive outpouring of love.

Navani let the happy tears flow. She traced her fingers gently across the different lines on his face. Lines that did not exist when they first met. Lines that furled and grew over time, with each scowl, laugh and smile.

Then, she spoke against quivering lips and quipped, “You forgot my feminine wiles.”

“Pardon?”

“I stormed into the warmcamps armed with my feminine wiles. It took you long enough. You should be thankful I can be as stubborn as you are.”

“That goes without saying.”

“Oh? You mean my wiles or the stubborn part?”

“All of it. All of you.”

He leaned over and caressed her face with both hands, wiping away her tears, then kissed her. Passionspren continued a delicate dance around them.

They continued laying there in comfortable silence, holding hands.

Eventually, Navani let out a contented sigh, her eyes closed.

Dalinar inspected her serene face as she lay there next to him, enraptured by each curve and line he traced with his eyes, as he had done furtively in his youth. He no longer needed to hold back. No longer hold back admiring her. Hold back loving her. It still felt so surreal that she loved him in return.

He then asked, “What are you thinking?”

“Not thinking.” She could sense it in the background, a low hum that might have been the Connection, but it did not belong to any magic. It was theirs only. It warmed her and enveloped her with boundless love. ”Just feeling.”

He ran his fingers through her hair and asked. “Are you warm enough? Let me know if you want to move back inside.”

Navani shook her head, and moved closer to him, encircling her arms around him. He reached over and covered them both with another blanket.

“Weren’t you going to tell me about something earlier?” he asked.

“Hmm?” Navani looked up, puzzled.

Dalinar raised an eyebrow, mischievously.

“Oh that...” She let out a girlish laugh and buried her face into his shoulder.

“That bad?”

“I don’t think you’re ready.”

“It would be helpful to understand, how I can be more instrumental,” he said with glinting eyes. “Can you give me a clue?”

“Mmmm…do you remember that trip to the Falls when we almost…”

“Oh.” Dalinar’s eyes widened. “The first trip or the second one?”

“The second one? I don’t recall a moment then.”

“I’m sad you didn’t notice.”

“I’ll have to review my journals.”

“You kept a journal back then?”

“All Alethi women are advised to keep a journal throughout their lifetime to hone their writing skills. Very proper. Very Alethi.“

“And you’ve kept them all? There must be a lot of books. Where do you store them?”

“I’m not telling you! A lady must keep her secrets.”

“I suppose I will have to steal them from you and read them for myself. Now that I’ve fooled you into teaching me how to read. Then I can see what treacherous nonsense has been written about me.”

“A man reading a lady’s journals? The indecency! Even if you did, you would not be able to read the more interesting parts. I wrote those details in a different language. It would even take Jasnah a great deal of effort to decipher it.”

“What can I do to entice you?”

“Maybe… you can start by telling me, what inspires you?” she eyed him curiously.

“Inspires me?”

“You know. When I’m not available.”

“Oh you mean that…” He paused, looking a bit embarrassed.  “Like I’ve said before, I’m not as imaginative as you are.” He blushed. “I think about our first night together and the morning after. How beautiful you were. How beautiful you always are.” He searches her eyes for a response. “Boring, right?”

“You’re lying!” she teased.

“I’ll swear an oath.”

“Well, what did you do before that?”

“Got drunk or beat up other men,” he said, not too grimly.

“I’m still sensing you are keeping something from me. I would have guessed…me riding naked on Gallant, galloping towards you. Two things you love, one slightly more than the other.”

“Now that would be inspiring. And if anyone could tame a beast, it would be you.”

They laughed and smiled together as the sun completely set and the stars began to reveal themselves. She huddled even closer, her arms around his waist, head to his chest.

“Your turn now,” Dalinar requested.

They had already spent decades apart, unable to confess their love for each other. The secrets between them were increasingly few. Why not share a bit more, Navani thought. She pulled away to speak more clearly for him.

“So, in this version, you do kiss me, in public, in front of everyone. And add what we did last week after the monarch’s meeting, but instead, on the ground in broad daylight and twice as fast and hard. And occasionally I’ll add a few other things we’ve yet to do. We were younger back then after all.”

“That sounds intense.” Dalinar gulped. “And what do you mean – we’ve yet to do?”

“You have no idea. I’ve written all those details in my secret language.”

“I formally request a reading session.”          

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, tilting her head quizzically. “Maybe, but what are we trading?”

‘Would you care for a different version? Thirty some years older, less imaginative and a bit slower?” He turned himself over her, gently laying her onto her back and propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes imploring.

“I think that might be even better.” And she held his face for a kiss.

So they made love out there, on their open balcony in Urithiru, slowly, deeply, tenderly. They took their time, stretching and seizing every moment that had previously seemed lost to them. Navani’s journal entry for this day was not lacking in words, but she found it difficult to convey all her thoughts, everything they did. No matter. Another practice session was never too far away. And she no longer needed to rely on her imagination.

Notes:

I wrote Part II skipping around.
Will probably rewrite sections of this chapter to avoid repetition and ensure consistency after all is complete.

My favorite line/scene:
"“A little rough around the edges. And one too many worry lines.” She dipped down, casually exposing her cleavage. Then placed the tip of her tongue precisely at the corner of his lips and slowly moved it across his face towards his cheekbone, ending at his ear. “But I love the taste,” she whispered."

Chapter 7: Master and Commander (E) (OB-RoW)

Summary:

Dalinar visits his wife at work and makes a few requests.
He gets the response he expected.

Aftermath of a drinking contest
Fourth Bridge's first test run
Big Speech

Dinner plans - sex scene + sex scene - to get there quickly search for word "garnet"

Notes:

Sex scene written a while ago- with a basic idea for the lead up.
Chapter mega exploded in length. Needs edits- but I'm tired...x 2weeks on this.

Lead up scenes are long, but fits with the speech given.
My fabrial mechanics might be off.

“Come to watch me engineer?” she asked with a grin. Navani sat at a table near the edge of a plateau on Urithiru. Nearby, workers and Windrunners connected pulleys and ropes to a complex gemstone lattice, while others wrangled chulls and secured them to their harnesses.

Her husband, towering over everyone he passed, walked towards the group of scholars who were gathered around her. He was about a head or more taller than her scientists, including herself. And his perfect posture only added to an undeniable air of authority.

“I have,” he said smiling at her.

She welcomed the smile, as well as the hand that reached for hers as he helped pull her up from her seat. But something was amiss. An unscheduled visit in the middle of the day? Although Dalinar was much more attentive than most men, especially Alethi men, were about his wife’s interests, leading a world war against immortal enemies left little time for a casual call.

“Is something the matter?” she asked as she stood, stretching out her lower back at the same time. Her back has seen better days – blame it on being blessed with an ample bosom – but her neck didn’t suffer the same, despite having to always crane it up to meet his gaze. It helped that she was tall too, often referred to as statuesque, so with everyone else it wasn’t a problem. She just wasn’t as stormingly tall as he was.

“I’m only here to observe,” her giant-husband answered.

“Didn’t you have a meeting with the generals and highprinces?”

“It ended earlier than expected.”

“Did it end after someone hurt Ruthar’s feelings?” she scoffed. “Our resident man-child. I’ve lost count of how many times he’s stormed out of a meeting after losing an argument that he instigated in the first place. And you know how much I love counting.” She looked at him with playful eyes, expecting a playful response in return.

Instead, he replied, “Something like that.”

Navani let go of his hand, then folded her arms.

“Dalinar, what are you not telling me?”

The King of Urithiru, as some called him, cleared his throat, then eyed the scholars, some who were ardents, technically slaves, that surrounded them. He cocked an eyebrow, and tilted his head, waiting for her to redirect them. His wife, who some refer to as queen of the tower city, did not break her gaze nor her defiant stance.

“Unless it is a personal matter, I’m not dismissing them.” Her engineers, a few seated, though most were standing around the table of blueprints and papers, nervously looked to each other and to their patron, caught in between what was sure to become an argument. “And if it’s related to this project, then they have a right to hear it now along with me.”

Resigned, the king and commander-in-chief sighed and then proceeded with his explanation. “We had a discussion about the production and distribution of half-shards.” 

The half-shards -a type of augmenter fabrial discovered by Veden artifabrians. Large diamond-shaped shields powered by a gemstone. Useful for defense against Shard weapons, but large and unwieldy. Dalinar felt compelled to whisper the next part, but she was the one who was determined to have this conversation in public. He said the next sentence very clearly.

“They wanted to know how many we have produced in the past year and what work is being done to improve their design.”

Navani frowned, because she of course knew the answer. And it required no counting. Zero and nothing. One by one, her engineers found a reason to excuse themselves from the table - to check on the gemstones of the lattice fabrial, remeasure the lengths of ropes, or recount aluminum supplies. Only three remained, Velat, Falilar and Rushu. The former two, older and less easily spooked, the latter effortlessly oblivious as usual.

“I distinctly recall a joint decision to prioritize the discovery and recruitment of Radiants rather than expending efforts on Shards,” she contended. “Invulnerability is a much more useful adaptation.”

“There’s no argument there,” he said with hands clasped behind his back, parade’s rest, a soldier’s pose. As if he needed to look any taller. “What we did not anticipate was how long Radiant squires require to complete training with their Order.”

The queen let out an exasperated sigh. She’s heard this complaint before and understood where he was headed.

“It’s not just Ruthar is it?”

Dalinar shook his head, then continued. “Very few Radiants return to their factions. Most ask to transfer into my army.”

“What did they expect? You provide an unlimited amount of Stormlight. They are better off with you than with them. Technically everyone falls under your chain of command anyway.”

“It still leaves our non-Radiant soliders exposed,” he responded with his own folded arms. The couple’s quirks had rubbed off each other. Given his stature, it was an intimidating pose and would have ended the conversation with anyone else. But not his wife. Who continued without pause.

“They rarely participate in the frontlines anyway,” she countered. “We’ve more than accommodated them by sending Radiants with non-Radiant troops whenever it’s been necessary.”

And now she was overstepping, military tactics were not her expertise. Both Velat and Falilar found a reason to leave, though Rushu continued working on her calculations.

“A Radiant cannot defend soldiers and engage enemies at the same time.“

“What about—"

“Edgedancers have limitations too. It’s also cruel for a soldier to endure pain and injury if we can find a way to avoid it.” He then uncrossed his arms, realizing how it might only escalate the situation and also softened his tone.

“Dearest…designing more protective armor or shields helps Kholin non-Radiants too. We are merely asking you and your scholars to devote some time into its research.”

Navani pursed her lips, thinking. At least he was presenting this as a request, though she suspected he may have used another word among his generals, all men, all Alethi. He would know her answer could only be in the affirmative. His arguments were all too logical. He might as well have told them he gave her an order.

“Fine,” she said. Then muttered, “So much for a united Alethkar.”

“Thank you,” he said with some relief, but unfortunately the more difficult ask was next.

“I hope you reminded the highprinces that the half-shard schematics have been publicly available for the past year,” his wife added. “They have been more than welcome to produce their own shields, while waiting for the results of any research.”

Dalinar nodded. But now he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands or his posture. So he decided to sit down and steady himself in anticipation for her wrath. Despite his age, his wartime experience and all the enemies he’s had to stare down, the Bondsmith was not afraid to admit that he was sometimes fearful of his own wife.

“There’s one more request.”

“Go on,” she said frostily, as she sat down across from him. Even Rushu looked up from her papers, sensing the sudden increased tension between them.

Dalinar swallowed hard. He would have to treat the aftermath like any wound, without Stormlight to heal it. Grin and bear it. Married now for a little over a year, this would be the first time she’d go to bed angry with him. Not just annoyed. Angry. At least the first time he’d be able to remember. He had been too storming drunk when plagued by memories of the Rift, to recall those nights. In any case, it was bound to happen.

“We would like to see a demonstration of your ship.”

It took a great deal of control for Navani to avoid allowing angerpsren to manifest beneath her in that very moment. She folded her arms again with her response.

“My ship?” she delicately spit out. “My ship is a transport vessel, not a warship. Its purpose is to move people and things. I will not let it be outfitted for battle. What advice can your military men offer? Other than, make it go faster. Why should I even entertain this ‘request’?” she asked, briefly unfolding her arms to motion the air quotes.

“Because they provide the supplies, artisans and even the chulls your team needs for this project to succeed.”

“And we let them borrow our Soulcasters and our Radiants. And even you! With your infinite Stormlight.”

“They only want to understand that their resources are being put to good use.”

Navani pounded a gloved fist on the table, startling Rushu, who had been observing the interaction behind reams of papers drawn up high in front of her face.

Head shaved like most ardents, she blinked with her long eyelashes, looking back and forth between the quarreling couple. It was rare to see her patron angry. Well technically she was her master. One who she routinely addressed by her first name- with permission. Curiosity set in the ardent-scientist. She noted a few drops of blood bubbling at Navani’s feet. The angerspren finally made their predictable appearance.

“The next time any of them ask for my help to clean up their shit, I’m going to need them to bring me some proof. It might delay the process by a day or two more than usual,” she sneered. “I hope their water supply don’t mysteriously fail in the meantime.”

“Navani...” he grumbled.

“What? Am I being childish? Well, if Ruthar can get away with it for decades, I’m allowed this one time.”

Dalinar reached for her hand, still held in a fist on the table, to try and soothe her. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t seem any more relaxed.

“I can try again - to deflect the request.”

“Did you?” she said dryly.  “Did you really try?”

“I explained to them that military men had no business overseeing anything to do with fabrials.”

“And?”

“They then asked why we let a woman-scholar sit in our meetings.”

Navani let out a sigh forceful enough that some of the papers on the table fluttered.

“My daughter is their Queen. She has the right to involve herself in all aspects of governing. And she hasn’t been giving them any direct military orders.” Navani rubbed her temple with her freehand, feeling a headache approach, she then asked. “What did Jasnah say?”

And now Dalinar regretted not giving himself enough time to prepare for this argument. If he had been steering it, it was with his eyes closed, feet first, sitting backwards without a chull pole.

He answered timidly, “Jasnah agreed that a demonstration was needed.” And if the Blackthorn has ever been seen to shrink in the face of another mortal his entire life this was the one time. Rushu’s large eyes widened.

“She what?!” Navani withdrew her hand from him and stood up at the same time. A single shockspren flashed before her. She resisted the urge to start pacing- a habit of her husband’s- to relieve her anger and search her thoughts.

Why would Jasnah agree?
How could her own daughter betray her?
What was she trying to prove?

And then it quickly dawned on her. Jasnah was planning to assert her authority as Alethkar’s military commander, despite her lack of battle experience. There was no room for hypocrisy. She also needed to appease the highprinces.

This was all a political move to solidify her position as their monarch, no different than what a man would have done. And it came at the cost of her mother’s autonomy. Had her little machine really grown so callous?

“Gemheart,” he said, promptly earning a groan from his wife. “I’m not likely to explain this well. But Jasnah reasons that our military and science operations should be more collaborative. We should join our efforts and not isolate important decisions. That doesn’t mean we would be overseeing your work.”

“But you’d like to appraise it and ensure that the resources allocated are worth the results. And by you- I mean- Jasnah.” Navani shook her head. That woman was logical to a fault... Like her father. “I’ll do it. Since it seems I have little choice.” She took a deep breath, then asked, “When?”

“At your earliest convenience.”

“Don’t lie to me, Dalinar. Someone demanded a deadline. That’s why you hurried here afterwards to assess our progress.“

“In two weeks…Ideally.”

Navani bit her lip, a habit her daughter picked up from her, then ran a few numbers and scenarios in her mind. She recalled some information she used to keep in a notebook- notes about the highprinces’ dislikes and predilections. A plan quickly formed.

“I’ll deliver the show in two days,” she said with absolute confidence.

Falilar who had been standing off to the side, choked on his own saliva. Velat patted the man’s back as he began coughing from the near aspiration.

“Dearest, there’s really no need—”

“No. No. Best to get this over with so we can concentrate on our work in peace. We’ll get it done. Now you’ll have to excuse me, I have my own people and things to oversee.”

The artifabrian-patron started to walk over to check on the aging white-bearded scholar who was recovering from his coughing fit, when her husband asked her one last question.

“What about lunch?”

“What about it?”

“We had plans to meet with Gavinor today.”

Then Navani’s heart skipped. Gavinor, her and Gavilar’s grandson, technically not her current husband’s, though the child called him Grampa. In her rush for vengeance, she no longer had time to engage in a social playdate with the young boy, who greatly needed these interactions. Traumatized by the events at Kholinar palace, the frequently morose child had made much progress thanks to his grandmother. No longer mute, able to accept a hug, and even laugh again.

But would he have improved more quickly if she weren’t always occupied running a city? Working on her science projects? It was yet another one of the many obligations that she never found enough time for. At least she had gotten him to a place where others could help too. Her nephews, and even on a rare occasion, Jasnah. Maybe she should be more thankful for their assistance.

Gavinor, who was relatively small for his age, was fearful of so many things, but not his oversized grandpa. And Navani knew that this was because Dalinar could be as gentle and caring as he could be forceful and intimidating. They should just have lunch without her today. Though really, a part of her simply wanted to spend more time with the five-year-old, a living remnant of her dead son.

It was selfish. Perhaps the same could be said about her ship.

“I can bring him here,” her husband offered. “We can watch you engineer together.”

Navani smiled and stepped over to where he was seated. “That would be wonderful. Thank you,” she said. And nearly added a kiss to his forehead.

In private, they were unabashedly intimate with each other. But it was increasingly difficult for her to isolate her instincts outside of their rooms. As if it were as easy as flipping a fabrial switch. But a kiss invited too many gasps, so instead, she hugged his head to her chest. They were not in the presence of his men. These were her people. And she wasn’t as nervous about challenging Alethi norms in front of them, even as Rushu’s eyes widened again.

Dalinar on the other hand wasn’t as comfortable with this particular public display of affection, though his face frequented her naked breasts in the bedroom. But he’d just dug himself into a large hole, and so he took the rope offered to him. Maybe he’d luck out later tonight too.

---

And he did and he didn’t. No sex. But she didn’t reject his embrace.

The next day, Navani got up earlier than him, which was unusual. It felt odd to wake up and see her side of the bed empty. Not odd actually... More like he’d been punched in the gut. But his wife needed to see her plan through.

Navani had woken up an hour earlier to the vibration of her armclock fabrial, another device whose creation she sponsored, and whose design she continually improved on. It was a simple modification to minimize the output of the embedded painrial to a light buzzing sensation timed to the alarm setting.

Feeling invigorated by this small success, she put on a sturdy pair of boots, pocketed her old notebook and pulled out a list of name and addresses. She’d be visiting quite a few people today, making deals and calling in a few favors. Queenly work for the scholar-scientist.

---

Later that day…

“Good evening, Father. We’re here to drop off…umm...your wife,” Dalinar’s elder son said, standing near the entrance to their rooms while holding up his aunt under her arm.

“Hello, husband,” Navani said, slurring her words. Then with a giggle, “My everything.”

Next to them stood a dark-eyed, dark-haired woman with a fancy white hat.

“Good evening, your Brightlordship,” the woman said. “I offered to stand in for your wife, but she refused.”

Dalinar recognized the woman as one of his daughter-in-law’s personas. The one she used for spying and for doing seedy tasks. What the fuck was going on?

“Adolin, what in Kelek’s breath happened?” Dalinar asked.

Before the mostly blonde man could respond, his aunt interjected.

“Now now, dearest….” Navani took one unsteady step forward, still supported by her nephew, then tapped her husband’s chest with a gloved finger. “Gemheart. You’re always too strict with your boys. That’s why they’re so prissy.” She pointed her thumb at Adolin. “This one cringed when I said a cuss word. I mean a real one.” Looking at the younger couple, she then said, “You kids don’t understand how good you have it. What our generation sacrificed so you can stay innocent and pure.”

Dalinar sighed, then asked, “Drinking contest?”

His son nodded.

“I’ll take it from here.” He took hold of his wife from under her arm, allowing his son to be freed of her. Both Veil and Adolin then respectfully bowed to him, an apology, before pivoting away.

As her husband walked her into their rooms, Navani turned her head back and yelled, “Don’t forget what we won kids! Collect them for me tomorrow morning!“

“Yes, aunt!” Adolin dutifully yelled back, as he hurriedly left with one of his wife’s personas in tow.

Navani continued to stumble over her own feet as Dalinar tried to help her across the sitting room. So he paused their movements and stooped down to carry her in his arms instead. It would go much faster this way.

“So strong!” she said, as he swooped her up. “Just my type,” she said with a wide grin. “Your brother was strong too.” After encircling her arms over her husband’s neck, she whispered to him, conspiratorially, “But your muscles are much better. In fact, your everything is much better. I swear it.” She placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek, and the alcohol on her breath was even more obvious. Dalinar looked to his wife, amused. He’s never seen her drunk before.

“Maybe I should call for Renarin to heal you. Sober you up.”

“Don’t you dare bother him, Blackthorn!” She batted his chest twice with her hand. “He’s hanging out at his stew circle bridge club.” And then let out a sad sigh. “That boy needs friends.”

They made it into the bedroom, and Dalinar set his wife at the edge of their bed, so he could help her undress. And of course, that’s when she began to retch.

But Dalinar’s reflexes were fast enough, and a nearby bin collected the vomit.

Navani held the bin in her hands, then said, while catching breath, “If that missed you, then you still owe me one.”

He couldn’t recall what incident she was referring to. Then again, a year ago, he was too blind drunk those weeks he was tortured by memories of Rathalas. But he did remember her patience and faith in him.

Dalinar found a cloth and wiped the spit and vomit from his wife’s mouth and chin. Kneeling in front of her, he then asked, “Are you sure you don’t want me to call Renarin or find another healer?”

She shook her head vigorously. “No. No Truthedgers. I just need to sleep. Just make sure I wake up when my alarm goes off tomorrow.”

“If that’s what you want, dearest.” He took the bin from her and set it to the side. “Then, let’s get you changed.”

“Yes, commander!” she said with a slow uncoordinated hand salute.

 As she watched him gather items from around the room, she started to tell a story.

“You know this wasn’t my first drinking contest. I did it once. For your brother.”

Dalinar furrowed his brow. He’s never heard this before, and it seemed out of character for Gavilar to allow his wife, the queen, to do anything so…uncivilized. But the Blackthorn was never involved in the detailed scheming and plotting required to unite the princedoms. He left that all to his brother. And his brother’s wife.

“Don’t blame him,” she added. “I insisted. I accepted a challenge from a merchant. It was either that or exposing my safehand.” Navani looked at her gloved hand, flexing it a few times, before removing the covering. She stared at her naked hand a few moments before continuing. “And that or starving or dismissing half our troops. Pests got into the food supplies.” She sighed. “And even after all that. We barely kept it all together. What a waste. He stopped caring about any of it in the end.”

Her current husband had returned at this point in her story, but before he helped her remove her dress, he asked, “Gemheart, where are you going with this?”

Teary-eyed and quite intoxicated, she explained, “Will you stop caring too? After I help you save the world.” And then she started to cry. “Will you leave me too?”

He held both of her unclothed hands in his, then told her, “Of course not, gemheart. I love you.”

Sniffling between words, she said, “But I thought he loved me too.”

And what she said was true. So Dalinar searched a bit for the right answer, while wiping away her tears.

“He did, but he loved himself more. More than anyone or anything.”

Letting out a great sigh, Navani replied, “And that’s not you at all. You practically hate yourself most of the time.“ She traced her fingers over his lower face. “Just like me.”

Dalinar frowned at her response. Aside from when she had grieved for her children, he’s never heard her speak so darkly. This was a side of her he did not know.

“Why would you say that gemheart?”

“I don’t know.” Then she broke into a smile. “Maybe because I’m drunk.”

“How much did you drink?” he asked, as she rubbed her stomach, appearing nauseated. “What did you drink?”

“Horneater white. Otherwise it’s not a challenge.” She motioned the drinking of a jug with both hands. “But I lost count.” And then she started snickering. “That’s really bad huh.”

Dalinar’s eyes widened, and he shook his head.

“Gemheart, that stuff is strong enough to strip paint. I’ll fetch for Renarin. He won’t mind.”

She held onto his hand as he stood up, and waved the other one back and forth, in a dismissive gesture.

“No. No. No. I’m fine. You know my metabolism for this kind of thing is different. Look, I can stand.”

She could not. Dalinar caught her, then helped her back to bed.

“Will you at least drink some water?”

She nodded.

A cup of water down the gullet and a fresh set of nightclothes on her, she felt compelled to tell him one more thing.

“Dearest, can I apologize to you?”

“Not if it’s for being drunk,” he said as he tucked her into bed.

“Yea. Cuz then you’d be a hypocrite. I know you very well, Dalinar Kholin.”

“You do.”

She took one of his hands into hers and clutched it to her chest over the blanket, as he sat down on the bed beside her.

“I really should have picked you, not your brother.”

“We’ve already discussed this. We both made a decision.”

“But I could have found a way. I’m smart.”

“We were too young to know what we really wanted.”

“Yea. But I was so fucking hot. I really could have had anyone I wanted. And your brother got that version of me. And all you got were the leftovers. The one with grey hair and saggy boobs. Maybe I should ask Shallan to weave an illusion over me.”

Dalinar didn’t need to search for this next answer. He knew it immediately.

“The best version of you is the one that’s real. The one that’s right here. Next to me. And I won’t accept anyone else.” Then he kissed her forehead.

She looked back at her husband adoringly, unsure of what type of spren was floating around him because her eyes were too unfocused. She then said, “You’re not going to have sex with me tonight, are you?”

He shook his head.

“I’m too drunk.”

He nodded.

“I guess we’ll have to catch up some other day.” She let go of his hand and drew the blankets up close to her face.

As Dalinar stood up to leave, a thought occurred to him. Maybe we should postpone the demonstration tomorrow.

And as if she heard those very words, she sat up and suddenly yelled, “No! This would all be for nothing. And I’m ready to crush the competition.” She drew both hands into fists. “Even if it’s my own daughter. It’s the Alethi in me.” She tapped her chest twice, and then promptly lay back down on her own and fell asleep.

---

The next morning, Navani did not wake up hungover.

Her mostly dark-haired nephew sat in a chair by her side holding a glass of water.

“Good morning Aunt Navani? How are you? Would you like some water?” the formerly bespectacled youth asked.

“Thank you, Renarin.” she said as she took the glass.” And thank you for healing me. I feel miraculously well.” Even her back seemed to ache less than usual.

Dalinar wasn’t on his side of the bed, which was as expected. He was always up before her and careful not to wake her. Thank the Storms, she thought, not wanting to face him or have an argument. I must have made a fool of myself last night.

He then walked out of the washroom, drying the lower half of his face with a towel, freshly shaven. Navani cautiously finished drinking the rest of the water and handed the empty glass back to her nephew. She waited for him to speak before she did. Better for him to reveal what he knows than to implicate herself.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “I asked Renarin to arrive before your alarm went off. I assumed you’d need more time to get ready this morning.”

And he was right. She hadn’t bathed or removed her makeup last night. Her face was probably a mess, and she could smell a faint odor of vomit somewhere nearby. At least he didn’t seem upset. But why should he be? Given what she had to put up with last year. But she still felt embarrassed about it. Getting drunk wasn’t very lady-like or queenly.

Dalinar dismissed his son and finished getting dressed.

“That was very thoughtful of you,” she told him. “But I won’t be holding back at the demonstration.”

“Nor should you,“ he answered with a smile, while straightening out his collar in front of the mirror.

“I’m sorry for acting unlady-like last night.”

He turned around to respond and said, “Men and too much alcohol don’t mix well either.  But you did only what you thought was necessary.”

Over pursed lips, Navani wondered what else he might be referring to.

“Did I say anything foolish?” she asked.

“Only that you wanted to apologize.”

“The truth though is that I might have gone overboard. I’ll be doing more than what is necessary to win. Because I want to win spectacularly.”

He walked over to her side of the bed, then said. “And that’s why you are the queen.” Then planted a kiss on the side of her untidy face. “I’ll be prepared to be impressed by you this afternoon.”

And he will be quite impressed, though he was not quite prepared.

---

On a plateau in Urithiru, a massive wooden transport vessel emerged from the Oathgates. Built in the Shattered Plains where lumber was readily available from the forests outside of the warcamps, it required a large team of Windrunners to float the vessel and move it to its destination today. Some of Navani’s engineers questioned the necessity of setting the demonstration in the tower city instead of the Plains. And to that question, their patron answered, “If scientists allowed themselves to be ruled only by necessity, fabrials would have never been created.”

Adding to their concerns though, was the fact that the ship was not prepared for a full flight. Only one lattice was fully functional, the one that controlled altitude. So when they moved it down along the side of the plateau outside the tower, the ship should ascend. It was little more than an oversized lift. And as Urithiru was already very high up in the mountains, it was not a practical starting point for the ship. It will need to be returned to the Plains afterwards.

Though most of them were comfortable asking questions of their patron, none of them ever felt compelled to defy her. They understood that politics were at play, and trusted the queen to carry them through victory, as she has done many times over.

They did have one last serious concern. It was about the safety of the vessel. A little more than a large wooden rectangle, over a hundred feet long, sixty feet wide, and forty feet thick, they still hadn’t completed the sheltered roofed addition near the rear of the upper deck. And though the front third was designed intentionally to be exposed to the air, a railing around the sides hadn’t yet been installed. In short, a long way to fall on all sides. But where science could not provide, magic would have to prevail.

The Bridge Four Windrunners happily accepted this volunteer assignment. After all, the vessel would be named after them. Standby flying Radiants to rescue falling passengers provided an easy solution. And Adhesion could be applied if necessary.

Dalinar Kholin, the King of Urithiru, waited with the highprinces of Alethkar and his generals, seated in a line of chairs placed in front of the wooden vessel. His wife had not yet arrived, but she had given them notice of a thirty-minute delay in the start time. The same tactic ripped out of Queen Fen’s playbook. Make them wait.

“Dalinar, don’t tell me your wife is having a hair emergency?” one of the highprinces said.

The king had expected it to be Ruthar, the oily man who was always stirring trouble. But punctuality was akin to virtue amongst all highprinces, all generals as per Alethi norm. Military men on military time.

“Adalar, don’t tell me you’re offering her your expertise?” Dalinar asked the bald man. “Generous. But I don’t think your mustache comb will work for her hair.”

The shiny-headed mustached Brightlord scoffed with arms folded. “The sun is about to set, and the commoners are gathering around us. This is turning into a spectacle!”

Exactly her intention, Dalinar thought. Though if it were meant to curry favor with the highprinces, it was a baffling strategy.

Around them, street vendors had set up small shops for snacks and goods, drawn in by the increasing size of the crowd of onlookers.

A candy maker poured molten sugar into little molds the shape of the vessel - so really just a rectangle- then painted them with a glyphair for the number four and bridge.

“Get you Fourth Bridge sugarpops!” the shop worker yelled out.

The smell of Chouta, fried flatbread wrapped tightly around fried meat that would have been dripping with sauce if not for the bread, permeated wonderfully in the air. And the sound of the sizzling meat and crackling of the frying of the bread were music to the ears of stomachs. A few in Dalinar’s group had ordered some to taste.

There was even a stall owner selling flags and clothing with the Bridge Four tattoo printed on them. How did they make them so quickly? Who would turn this event into a profit? And the answer of course, as always, was Sebarial. The portly highprince sat with them, happily munching on a chouta in one hand, while the other one held a tiny flag.

As it grew darker, shops hung diamond spheres onto mounted poles to light the surroundings. Parents and grandparents brought children to play at the mini-game stalls or pet the axe-hound puppies at a playpen. Kholin soldiers brought out heatrials and laid them out strategically to provide warming spots for the public. All in all, it had the look of a night festival.

“Our soldiers have the crowd and vendors well under control,” Dalinar insisted. “Navani has assured us the demonstration won’t take too long. We’ll be done before dinner.”

And as if on cue, her palanquin and entourage began to arrive. In the front, a line of about a dozen musicians carried drums to their positions below the vessel. In the rear, a group of archers dressed in green and gold marched, while Navani’s engineers and scholars walked alongside her vehicle.

Curiously Adolin was among them too, dressed in a stylized Kholin uniform with matching gold-trimmed boots. Undoubtedly the most handsome man on the plateau, the tall mostly blonde man stood by as the palanquin came to a halt, so he could escort his aunt out of the conveyance.

And as the Queen of Urithiru stepped out - accepting the hand held out to her - her husband’s jaw dropped. But he was not the only one gaping.

Resplendent in Kholin blue, Navani’s ostensibly traditional havah blended military styling into a feminine shape sublimely- a high collar with a corseted waist and long sleeves, but without the ornate embroidery of evening wear. Epaulettes, connected by a chain across her chest, had been fashioned out of gold-colored fabrials with a set of claw-like legs, reminiscent of the former painrial design. Their ends points angled out dramatically from the shoulders creating a silhouette that was both imposing and seductive.

As structured and stiff as it might have looked, she moved in the dress gracefully. The overall effect was something grand, but not extravagant, formal, but not austere. Though the cape may have elevated it a step above grand. It was of course emblazoned with the House Kholin crest. Tower and Crown.

Yet the outfit was not the most mesmerizing thing about her look. The centerpiece was at the top.

Her hair was woven into two thick braids like a crown, adorned with a diamond studded gold circlet paired with matching earrings. Simple, yet elegant. Luscious bright red lips, painted masterfully to the perfect pout. High-sculpted cheekbones. Strongly defined eyebrows.

And lastly, but foremostly, those eyes.

They were always brilliant with or without makeup. But now that they were outlined with a soft smokey eyeshadow, their allure was incomparable. It made the color pop. Even more luminous than Salas, the purple moon, appeared when peeking through dark clouds.

Light violet spheres, almost glowing.
Almost electric.
Almost…Radiant.

Dalinar stared. They all did.

And as they stood up, waiting for her to arrive with Adolin, he thought, or rather hoped, that the demonstration would indeed be brief. He had made plans for dinner tonight. And he wasn’t squandering his appetite on the street food.

Restraint, he thought. Reward… Rolling in bed naked with…

Hatham interrupted the king’s thoughts. “Dalinar, you must ask your wife who her tailor is for me. I wasn’t aware there was anyone that skilled in Urithiru,” the fashionable highprince inquired. He often sported a different outfit at every meeting. Not necessarily something trendy, but usually eye-catching.

“You might have better luck asking my son,” Dalinar answered. He had an idea of how Navani had pulled it off on such short notice. Nearby, Shallan dressed in a pared down version of her mother-in-law’s outfit without the fabrials, waited for her husband to sit with her.

And it didn’t bother him that the dress wasn’t real. Or even if the rest of the look were only an illusion. She could shave her head like an ardent and wear a burlap sack, and he’d still want to –

Fuck.

A belated recognition hit him as his son and wife drew closer. Focused on her, he hadn’t looked at them as a pair. Because now that he did, he noted how close she was to his son's height, which meant she was close to his own. His wife had done something she rarely, rarely did. She was wearing heels. Fucking tall heels. But they were hidden under the dress. And they would be real, as an illusion couldn’t change one’s height. He wondered what the shoes looked like. What her already long legs would look like in those shoes. What her already long legs would look like in those shoes out of her dress.

Patience. Prudence. Propriety.

“Brightlords and generals, I apologize to keep you all waiting,” Navani said as Adolin dropped her off in front of them. “Thank you, nephew. The sanitation meeting went longer than usual. And I don’t think I need to extol the value of hygiene here at home and at the warcamps. It’s one of our many mutuals interests.” She smiled at them.

As she did, Dalinar noted how the festival’s many lights reflected in her violet eyes. Brilliantly shimmering. Clever and inviting. She blinked at him.

Punish me. Pray for me. Pleasure me please.

Dalinar then cleared his throat and his mind, clasping his hands behind his back.

“We are anxious to see your demonstration... Navani,” he said, catching himself before he slipped and used one of their terms of endearment. “Dearest” or “gemheart” in front of his men would have greatly aggravated them, even though his affection for his wife was well-known. It would have added to the opinion that he was overly accommodating to her. And that meant her fabrials – including this ship- too.

“How should we proceed?” he asked, feeling strange that he could almost meet her gaze straight on. He was still a few inches taller. But it seemed more appropriate that he should be looking up at her. The way she appeared. The way she commanded his attention.

“I’ll be making a short speech. And then we’re off to the skies. Simple.”

Navani then focused her eyes again on her husband. Giving him a different smile. And he knew what that smile meant. He has seen her use that smile before. It meant that she had already claimed victory. And he and his men were fucked.

As if he cared. He already knew she’d win. He wanted her to win. He just didn’t know how she would do it. And if she wanted to gloat by literally walking all over him in heels, he’d gladly accept that later tonight. Very gladly.

Off to the side, at the edge of the plateau, far away from the crowds, Falilar, Navani’s most trusted engineer, and a group of scholars stood around an apparatus attached to a pulley system on one end and a set of chulls with their wranglers on the other. They had a spanreed to communicate with the makeshift command station on the vessel- a small table bolted down to the floor.

Fortunately, because the gemstones halves paired between the ship and the altitude lattice were close to each other, there was little signal decay. And that meant less resistance and therefore less power needed to pull the vessel up and down. They’d likely need hundreds of men and chulls for future flights across the continent, accounting for what they’d also need after they install the lateral movement lattice.

On the side of the vessel, a small wooden platform functioning like a fabrial lift had been set up in order to get the passengers on board the 40-foot-tall structure. A ramp for that height would been incredibly long and a waste time to climb. And they didn’t want to tired out the Windrunners with a menial task. This platform-fabrial, much like a miniature version of the ship, performed flawlessly.

Hopefully, the Fourth Bridge would do the same shortly.

The archers made their way up first, followed by Rushu and half a dozen ardent-engineers. Though her expertise was in cartography, Velat was also among them, cordially invited to experience this first inaugural flight. She had a rope around her waist, which she promptly tied to one of the command station table’s legs. On the ground, soldiers used a much longer series of ropes to block off the area in preparation for takeoff and landing.

Navani took her place on top of a small wooden box directly in front of the vessel. Tomor, Falilar’s nephew, promptly arrived to assist his patron, bringing with him a stool. He pulled out a pair of circular devices from his pocket and affixed them to compartments inside the box and underneath the stool. The devices locked in with a satisfying clicking noise after he made a quarter turn. After flipping a switch on the box, activating its gemstones, he raised the stool in the air before flipping its switch, then letting go. The stool remained in its place, above ground, suspended. Tomor gently pulled then pushed it down, which slowly lifted the queen up. The young engineer then sat on the stool using himself as a counterweight.

 The Queen of Urithiru now stood on a small box, several feet in the air above and in front of her audience. Both Salas and Nomon, the blue moon, the brightest one of the three, were now up in the sky. And no other illumination was needed to shine on the queen.

Dalinar saw a glimpse of shoes at that time They were a dark boots with a platform combined wedged heel. Up to the ankle, calf or thigh? he pondered. A memory of an anniversary gift briefly entered his mind. He did well that night. Hopefully he’ll do even better tonight.

Soft drumming called everyone to attention and quieted the crowd. Dalinar’s group sat back on their chairs. Children went up on the shoulders of tall adults. And folks gathered along the staircase ramps leading to the ten Oathgates, for an elevated, thus better view.

The Queen of Urithiru addressed the citizens and visitors of the Tower, after pressing a button on one of her fabrial epaulettes, which then amplified the volume of her voice.

“Good people, Rosharans, friends and former foes alike. Thank you for joining me on this momentous day when both Radiant and non-Radiants can now take to the skies.” She gestured her freehand up to the ship behind her and was met by a light applause from the crowd.

“It’s been close to a decade since I’ve given a speech to the people as a queen, and I’ve only had two days to write this. And so, in preparation, I asked another queen, Queen Fen of Thaylenah, an elected monarch, for advice. Twice elected in fact. Worthy in the eyes of her people. A person to greatly admire.

For those of you not from Alethkar, you might find our politics here unusual. And some. Actually, many. Have said that I married myself into power. And to them, I’d say, I not only did it once.” She raised one finger. “I did it twice.” Then two. Navani paused to let the laughter subside.

“But neither of my husbands were king when I married them. And if I sought a life of leisure I would have remained in Kholinar as a dowager queen. Instead, I escaped to the Plains. And what I sought there was the power to give me the ability to do something meaningful. Throughout my life, that has meant a life in the service of others. My first husband, my children and the people of Alethkar. But when I arrived in the Plains what I found was an Alethkar not at war with the enemy, but an Alethkar at war with each other. An Alethkar once again divided.

Why didn’t a common purpose, a common enemy, keep us united? Why did it fall apart? It’s because a union built on necessity and fear is weakly bonded. The strongest bonds are those forged by love, trust and respect. Which brings me back to this vessel, its purpose and what it represents.

As you all know, it has been named The Fourth Bridge, in honor of our Bridge Four battalion. And with the permission of Highmarshal Kaladin’s old team, we have even embedded their old bridge into the center of the deck.

The Fourth Bridge does not have a single purpose. Instead, it has many potentials. It can carry archers high up and provide aerial support to our troops, as well as transport those very troops into battle. It can be used to trade goods, food and livestock across the continent. It can be used to explore lands not accessible by the seas. But its greatest purpose is far far better.

Just as Bridge Four rescued my husband, nephew and their men from certain death, we will use this vessel to rescue our fellow Rosharans imprisoned in their hometowns from the enemy. And welcome them to a new home in Urithiru!”

On hearing this, many in the crowd applauded and cheered, some whistled, and a few cried happy tears. Kaladin, who was surveilling the scene from high up in the skies, had found his opinion of the queen, one of the most privileged lighteyes alive in Roshar, softening. True this was a political speech, and he had been fooled by the likes of Meridas Amaran in similar ways before. But he knew her words to be genuine because he had a window to their meetings behind closed doors. And he noted how much respect she showed her fellow engineers and ardents, technically all inferior to her or her slaves. He did not hesitate to approve her request to use Windrunner volunteers for this demonstration.

“There is another reason this vessel is called Fourth Bridge. Why did Bridge Four survive despite the odds?

It’s too simplistic to point to Stormblessed’s Radiant powers. Those powers did not bind wounds or summon the courage of others. And one person, even one who is Radiant cannot lift the bridge themselves.

It was because Highmarshal Kaladin loved his men more than he loved himself. He trusted them and respected them. And they loved, trusted and respected him in return.”

The audience looked around and above as the Windrunners performed the Bridge Four salute to their former captain.

“True unity requires that we love each other, more than we love ourselves. My current husband, a Bondsmith, one who unites instead of divides, taught me that.”

As Navani continued her not-so-short speech, Dalinar looked at her with absolute admiration. He will have to request a transcription so he can read it all again later. He thought to himself, how was it possible that his love for her could continue to grow, when it was already so full? How can you add more to the infinite? He continued listening intently as did the rest of the crowd.

“Without true unity, if we do not carry the bridge together, if we do not love each other more than ourselves, we will fall.

Which brings me to my last point. Some have called this ship, ‘my ship.’ The Queen’s ship. But I am not the master and commander of this ship.  

This is not my ship.

It is the hundreds of hours of work from dozens and dozens of scholars, engineers, and ardents. I would rather it be called their ship than my own. And I have been deeply honored to have served as their patron to support our common cause for so many years.”

Tomor, the young budding engineer, sat on his stool and beamed with pride. He beamed for the rest of them, who were unseen, as they often were. The others were hidden on board the tall vessel or in the case of Falilar’s group, hidden in the outskirts with their machines. Given how painstakingly hard they had to work these past two days, her public acknowledgement was most welcome.

“But the creation of this vessel also required the blood and sweat of hundreds of artisans and workers - from the wood cut down by the Thanadal lumberjacks to the chull handlers from Aladar’s princedom. Sadeas farmers who nourished us with food grown in the Plains. Sebarial’s merchants for trading gemstones and metals with Thaylenah and Azir. Men and women from Roion, Hatham, Bethab, Vamah and Ruthar helped us build this ship, wearing no uniforms. Their families wore no uniforms when welcoming them home after a long day’s work.

Because this is not any single person’s or princedom’s ship.
This is not my ship.
This is the people’s ship.
This is our ship.

And tonight, our ship will not only rise. It will soar. Because we are now once and for all, finally and truly united!”

Gloryspren, spinning like golden spheres, circled above Navani’s head over the simple crown in her hair. She looked at the sea of people in front of her. Their smiling eyes and faces. Darkeyed and lighteyed. All genders, all ages, across all nations. Urithiru was truly becoming something great. A place for all peoples to call home.

After the roar of applause and cheers from the crowd started to die down, a voice spoke from the crowd.

“Brightness, could you tell us what advice Queen Fen offered you?”

Navani scanned the crowd briefly, though she knew the person who conjured the voice. All part of the plan.

“To speak from the heart,” she explained.  “A speech made in haste is most effective when it is genuine and honest. And that reminds me, I need to do one more thing before I board our ship.” Navani knelt down on her floating box.

“Husband,” she said with a smile. “Dearest, can you lend me your height?”

Dalinar stood up from his chair and unlatched the rope barrier to step up to her. Navani removed her cape and folded it before, placing her crown and fabrial epaulettes on top, then handed it over to him. As she did, he mouthed silently to her. You are amazing.

Though the speaker fabrial in her epaulette was no longer on her, the audience heard her without difficulty, as they all quietly waited for her to speak again.

“Tonight, I will be ascending on our ship. Not as a queen or a scholar. But as a citizen of Urithiru, an inhabitant of Roshar. As one of you.”

Navani looked down to Tomor to signal the next step in her plan, but before the young man could rise from the stool, a rude voice finally decided to speak.

“Wait a minute! Where are the men? Where are the soliders? Why aren’t we on this first flight?” Ruthar asked loudly.

On board the ship were female scholars and engineers and genderless ardents. The archers were from Roion’s ceremonial division, all women. No men. No soldiers. And so, for once, Ruthar was actually right.

Still, Dalinar turned toward the oily man and glared. But that gesture was not enough to deter the short highprince.

“You’re not going to tell me to shut up again are you, Dalinar?” he sneered. ”I won’t follow orders from a man who can’t control his own—" Dalinar moved closer to Ruthar, towering over him, then folded his arms, his side sword in clear view.

“Actually, I’m happy to entertain the question from the Brightlord,” Navani said from above. She waited for Ruthar to escape from around Dalinar, so she could look at him before speaking again.

“Firstly, our Windrunner Radiants are already providing us aerial support from above the vessel as a safety precaution. And we did not want to allocate any more soldiers, one of our most valuable resources, to a simple science demonstration. But secondly, few men, aside from ardents, seem to have any interest in fabrials.”

“That still doesn’t—

“But perhaps you are right, Ruthar,” Navani said. “We should have a representative. I take it you will volunteer?”

“Well, I—

“That’s settled. Although I don’t have room for you on my box. We’ll have a Windrunner fly you up.”

“I’ll do it,” a female voice quickly replied. Laran, the former messenger turned Radiant, stood in the crowd nearby, wearing a pretty blue dress with black tights underneath. “I’m down here already. It’ll be easier than asking one of them to fly down for the Brightlord.”

“Excellent, Laran. We’re all anxious to get started. This will save us time. Can you also give me and my box a lift?”

“Of course, your Majesty...  I mean your Brightness.” Laran sucked in some Stormlight from her pouch of spheres, then flew up a slightly so she could reach the box and touched it, so it began to slowly move up with Navani on board.

As the highlady ascended, she waved to the crowd and her husband, who’s arms were no longer folded, so he could wave back. Navani's dress, though now lacking in adornments, sparkled, as the angle of the different lights from around the plateau changed as she rose. It was reminiscent of a blue sky, lit by twinkling stars.

Ruthar, who had pushed himself into a corner, waited with arms folded in his blue and red uniform for his turn. The pretty Windrunner returned to him, and with a quickly spoken “Ready?” lashed the small man up, following after him as he yelped aloud. Once they achieved the correct height, she quickly redirected him forward onto the ship, before removing the lashing. The highprince fell with a slight thud, onto all fours.

“I’m so sorry Brightlord,” Laran said. “I’m still practicing.” Then she promptly flew away with a sly smile on her lips.

When her box elevator brought her close enough to the ship’s deck, Navani gracefully leaped from the device with two Windrunners on standby to assist her. One of them secured the still moving miniature lift and unlashed it. The patron motioned towards her team in the the command tent, who began to write to their counterparts at the edge of the plateau via spanreed. Mounted sphere lamps had been set around the perimeter of the vessel to provide lighting for this evening flight.

The highlady turned to her lately added passenger and said, “One more thing Ruthar. How much do you weigh?”

The very annoyed man brushed off the dust from his knees as he stood up.

“Why should I tell you?” he snarled.

“Don’t tell me you’re shy about your weight too?” And your height. “This is an experimental science vessel, Brightlord. And we will also be conducting an experiment on this flight. The weight of all passengers has been calculated, except yours.”

The short, hairy, burly man bared his teeth before he asked, “What the fuck does that mean?”

“We are adding two chulls onto the deck to substitute for the weight of four dozen persons. It should help us test the hull’s integrity. Brightness Aladar has volunteered to handle the creatures while on board.”

“Chulls?”

“Yes, chulls? You know those very common large-shelled animals with the long antennae.” Navani wriggled two index fingers at the top of her head, mimicking the animal’s features. She had unbuttoned her safesleeve and was now sporting a white glove on her safehand.

“Chulls? Where?” Ruthar looked around him nervously.

“What’s wrong Ruthar? Don’t tell me…” Oh, she knew.  “You don’t like chulls?” Story was a young Ruthar had a habit of pulling on chull antennas for fun. He liked seeing the panicked and pained expressions of the large, normally docile creatures. Then one day, he messed with the wrong chull. This one nearly snipped his legs and torso off with its claws. A short man divided into even shorter pieces.

“Let me off you witch!” he shouted. “Where’s the exit?”

“Relax, Brightlord. The Windrunners can exchange you for the chulls.” She looks up. “Oh good, here they come now.”

The highprince went back down on all fours, cowering on the floor of the deck, hands over his head as Kaladin arrived with the two chulls. May Aladar casually stepped up from the command station to greet her favorite animal, the symbol of her princedom.

Then, a long antenna gently brushed against the scared man’s back, and he let out a shrill scream, before jumping off the ship. Luckily for him, Stormblessed was there. And he expertly lashed the highprince safely back to solid ground in front of Dalinar’s group.

Ruthar quickly got up, and without looking, made a rude gesture in Dalinar’s general direction, then ran off. Or tried to. He tripped over the rope barrier first then stood back up with a curse pushing his way through the crowd, calling for his guards to escort him away.

“Remind me, never to anger your wife, Dalinar,” Aladar said aside to the king.

“Then let’s start by never suggesting we’d take away her fabrials from her again,” the Blackthorn answered.

The drummers started up again, this time rapping to a robust beat, commanding the seated members of the audience to stand and the rest of the crowd to attention.

And then, the ship began to rise slowly to the cadence of the drums and the applause from the crowd. The Fourth Bridge shone brightly from above, lit by mounted infused spheres, easily visible from the ground and for those in the Tower through windows or balconies. When it reached about 300 feet, it held its position and the drumming stopped.

After a short countdown, Roion’s ceremonial archers let their arrows fly from the side of the vessels. Bursts of light drew lines from bows before shattering into a thousand cascading sparks over the night sky in bright colors. Green and gold. Blue and white. Red and brown. Repeated in different combinations, representing the colors of all the princedoms.

Down below, awespren topped the heads of onlookers -blue smoky clouds like hundreds of tiny halos. For many, this was their first time seeing fireworks. Their queen had won them from a Thaylen merchant in a drinking contest. A hard-fought win.

After checking in with her command team on board, Navani took a moment to enjoy in her success. She stood on the deck looking out to the fireworks and to the people down below. She was sure she could spot him even without his height advantage. He was broad too, someone very difficult to hide in any crowd. And there was a way in how others nearby stood, facing him, as if they were orbiting around him. The ship was almost half-way down its descent, when she was finally able to make out the features in his face. They smiled at each other.

Everything went well. But one thing continued to trouble her.

Where was Jasnah?

As they neared touchdown, the ship suddenly sped up at the same time there was a commotion in the crowd at the rear point of the vessel. Yelling and shoving, eventually led to falling. The rope barrier was now broken by a dozen or so tumbling bodies who lay underneath a fatal pathway, directly under a vessel weighing a few tons, moving at a faster speed than intended.

Navani’s engineers frantically wrote via spanreed to their colleagues at the edge of the plateau.

STOP DESCENT NOW

The response.

NOT POSSIBLE

The Windrunners under Kaladin’s orders rushed in. Most of them tasked to rescue and carry out the hapless fallen attendants, while he and a few more senior Radiants would attempt to lash the oversized vessel and stop its movements. Dalinar and Adolin called for Kholin soldiers to shore about the barrier and work to thin out the crowd. They were on the opposite side of the accident and unable to get to the victims.

Suddenly the vessel halted on its own. And a collective sigh could be heard.

Aboard the vessel, above the panic, Navani frowned at herself. Her plan was now an almost complete success. It’s likely she pushed Ruthar too far- likely that they were almost sabotaged by him. She’ll have to go check on Falilar’s group in person to ask what happened.

---

And there is where she found her daughter.

“Good show, Mother. I’m impressed. But you needn’t have worried I would take over your fabrials. It’s an area I rarely have the time to study. I would always defer to your expertise.”

Was that a compliment? Or an opinion that fabrials aren’t worthy of study? Navani thought. At least not another lecture from her daughter.

“Why didn’t you join Dalinar and the highprinces at the show?” the mother and artifabrian asked.

“We requested a demonstration of the ship fabrial. But the ship itself is merely half of it, correct?” Jasnah explained. “And by my observations, I would recommend increasing security measures and safeguards at the lattice controls.”

A lecture now. An appropriate and logical one too.

Jasnah continued, “But I had a copy of your speech scribed and sent to me. So I am well aware of your performance.”

“Falilar informed me you were the one who halted the frightened chulls when their handlers became incapacitated.”

“It was not as complicated as their breeding cycles on the Horneater Peaks. That terrain is not conducive to finding mates. But many animals lose their fear when you take the light away. As if they were safe and secure back in their dark shells. Therefore, I Soulcast a large blanket over their heads.”

Navani smiled in appreciation for her brilliant daughter. The human machine she created, the one she will always be the most proud of.

“Thank you. And thank you for believing in me.”

“Really, Mother, you’ve proven yourself more than you needed to. But I must congratulate you again on your resounding success tonight. It was a masterful plan. By calling it our ship you’ve effectively made it your ship. Humility and honesty are not lessons taught from the histories of rulership in Alethkar.”

“Well let it be said we are never too old to change. Or make change happen,” the former queen of Alethkar answered. “And please know you have my support to join the highprinces in their war planning.”

“And what about my other proposal?”

“Let’s end this evening on a good note. Ask me again, later?”

---

Dalinar held his chin in his hand, trying to decide how many diamond spheres worked best for the lighting. He had a table set up in their sitting room for dinner tonight as well as other special plans.

Too bright? Or maybe I should add a garnet sphere?

He didn’t hear his wife as she entered the room, too preoccupied with these details.

As he plucked out a sphere from the lamp holder above the table, she said to him mischievously, “I could lend you some if you’re short. I might have won a few marks at that drinking contest too.”

He turned around, anxious to behold her beauty again. This time up close. This time in private.

Navani stood just past the door’s entrance, still wearing that stunning blue dress, with her immaculate hair and makeup. Smiling so beautifully. And so tall. He’ll be able to check her shoes soon. And her legs too.

None of that was an illusion?

They walked towards each other, but then Dalinar swooped down, lifting her by her upper legs, and hugged her closely.

As he carried her over to the table, her hands on his shoulders, he looked up at her adoringly, then said, “You were incredible. Amazing. Brilliant.”

“I was. Wasn’t I?” she said with a giggle, running her fingers through his silvering hair. “But I’ve had enough of heights today, can you please set me down?”

He did as she commanded, but he was now kneeling on the ground in front of her, arms still wrapped around her.

“Let me take care of you,” he said to her.

She stared back at him, feeling oddly flustered. “What—what do you mean?”

He answered by kissing her down low, over her dress.

Her cheeks began to flush- but it only made her look more beautiful. “Maybe we should go to the bedroom.” She started to turn, but he held on to her skirt.

“It’s too far,” he pleaded with eyes far too innocent for what he was planning. “I can’t wait.”

“Maybe, I need to get my lo-“

He shook his head with a face more chaste than an ardent of the Devotaries. “Trust me, you’re not going to need it.”

Navani wondered to herself, When did he get so good at masking his emotions?

He raised himself up just enough to pick up a cup of the wine on the table. It was a Shin vintage, her favorite. Too sweet for his taste. Often served to children as their first alcoholic drink because it had little alcohol. It was all meant for her anyway.

He downed the cup, licking his lips to distribute the moisture, before leaving it on the ground. Then, he lifted her skirt to inspect her legs. The high-heeled boot only went up to the ankle, but it still accentuated her calves teasingly. He carefully picked up her foot in its shoe, so she could maintain her balance, before propping it up onto his shoulder.

Navani positioned her hands close to the edge of the table to support herself. As she did, Dalinar ran his tongue across her lower leg, startling her, making her bump into the table roughly instead. It knocked down the bottle of wine, which then rolled forward over the edge, but he caught it easily with one hand, though some of it spilled over on the table and on to the floor.

“That was close. I’m going to need this,” he said with a straight face, and then took a drink from the bottle.

Through the Connection, they both felt desire burning through them like a blazing Middlefest bonfire. Passionspren were a constant nuisance for their lovemaking, as they flurried around, hampering their vision. They learned that getting closer sometimes helped avoid the unwanted distraction.

Restraining himself, Dalinar set her foot back down and rose up. Storming tall. He still had the height advantage even with his shoes off. He removed his uniform jacket, tossing it carelessly over the sofa behind him. And then pressed himself up against her without embracing her, backing her into the table again. She could feel his firmness, and she desperately wanted for him to continue touching her.

He set the bottle back and pushed away the plates of food behind her, neither of them caring when they heard them clatter onto the floor. And then he lifted her up on to the cleared space. She took off her underwear, while he pulled over a chair in front of her. But before sitting down, he took the second wine cup, and held it up, close enough to touch her lips.

Then said, “I’ve been told I have terrible table manners.”

And instead of tipping the cup to her, he moved it to his own lips, sipped from it, then kissed her. She tasted the sweet wine as she drank from him.

“Surely, an exaggeration.” He took another drink, and kissed her again, repeating the sequence over again and over again until the cup was empty. Some of the wine dribbled down from her mouth, so he licked the trails that fell onto her neck and chin. Navani became increasingly light-headed, not at all from the wine.

“I’m still thirsty,” he said in a low voice as he began unbuttoning the top of her dress. “Did I miss anything?”

He didn’t, so he grabbed the bottle, took a mouthful, letting the liquid fall as he kissed her again. The wine spilled all over her chest. ”Maybe, I am a bit clumsy. But you’ll forgive me, won’t you?” He dipped down to clean up the mess with his tongue, lightly sucking the top of her breasts as he did so. She was already so close, it would only take the slightest push, to tip her over. He then helped her lay down on the table.

“Dalinar…” she murmured, scarcely able to speak, barely able to think, except for his name.

He finally sat down on the chair. “Yes, dearest.” He raised one leg again and placed it over his shoulder. And did the same thing with the other. Her feet in their high-heeled boots dangled behind him.

“I..” she couldn’t form the proper words. But he understood.

“Don’t worry.” He lifted her skirt up all the way. “I’ll be gentle.” Then, he gingerly grabbed her by her hips and pulled her across the table closer to his face.

“Relax. Just breathe.” He picked up the bottle of wine, and waited for her breath to steady, before carefully pouring it over her exposed lower parts.

She gasped. It was cold. It was sudden. It was almost too much.

She tried her best not to curse, and then struggled to figure out what to do with her hands. So, he grasped them - gently at first- lightly brushing his thumbs across them as if in prayer. Then placed their hands on top of her hips. There, he gripped them firmly, pressing down and securing her to the table.

She raised her head up and caught a glimpse of his eyes, completely bereft of its recent innocence.

He smirked, and it was hot as hell.

The last thing she recalled him saying was this. “But if you really must know.” He leaned so close that she could feel his breath, the coolness of the wine intensely magnifying the sensation of each word, his view of her unobstructed by passionspren.

“I haven’t had my dinner yet.” He licked his lips again, then ran his tongue across her inner thigh, lightly biting.

“And I’m starving.”

---

Navani lost count somewhere after five or six. The waves blended together and her mind wasn’t working enough to do basic math. She felt desperate though- desperate to have him in another way. Occasionally, he paused to pour more wine over her again, using his tongue to lap up the drippage. Fuck, it felt good. It was a struggle for her to breath properly, let alone plan anything. She’ll have plenty to write in her journal today, and she was sure he set a record. There was a pause long enough for her to pull herself using his hands as a hold. He looked up. She could see her wetness on his face, but his eyes had reverted back to that innocent look again, despite where his face was located. 

Fuck me. Navani thought. Though she might have said it aloud- she couldn’t tell at that point.

“Am I doing something wrong?” he asked. Again, all too innocently. Navani knew there was no way in Damnation that was an actual question. Their Connection was open, and he knew exactly how much he was satisfying her. While he was waiting for her to answer, he sucked on her. Storming man!

“I..” she started, taking in deep breaths.

“Yes?” he relaxed his grip on her hands, but still held on to her confidently.

“I want you..inside me..” He smirked again. “I want it now.” Her voice was whimpering, pleading. She didn’t care. She needed him desperately.

He gently scooted her legs off his shoulders and stood up. Storms, he was so tall, so handsome. She could see his bulge, and she tried to pry off his pants, but her hands were too shaky, even her legs. It probably looked ridiculously frantic.

His hands went to her shoulders, stroking her gently, trying to calm her. He then took one hand, and cupped her chin, which stopped her futile attempts to undo his trousers. His eyes looked serene, though desire was flaring. He lowered himself and gently kissed her lips. It tasted of the wine and her own wetness. He continued kissing, pressing more deeply and firmly with each subsequent kiss, the next one more passionate than the previous, which then progressed to his tongue pressing against hers. She encircled his arms around his neck.

And then she moved forward before he could, pulling him down more, lightly biting and sucking his lower lip. Next, she sucked his chin and ran her tongue across his jaw, biting again at the end of her trail, earning her an approving grunt. Her mind now clear enough to mount her own attack, and she undid the buttons of his shirt.

“You know what’s great about Stormlight?” she said as she continued sucking and biting his lower neck and upper chest, while pushing away his clothing to reveal his shoulders. Her violet eyes looked at him directly when she said, “Wounds don’t leave any marks.” She then bit his left shoulder, hard enough to imprint her teeth without drawing blood. The instinct should have been to push away, but the pain was minimal relative to what that shoulder has endured, and frankly seeing his wife do that turned him on. “I’m hungry too,” she said, eyes looking so lustful- beautiful and dangerous.

“You are fucking wicked,” he said.

“I’m not the one eating all our food to maintain my muscles,” she challenged, eyeing his arms. “Making the rest of us starve.”

“You don’t look like you’re starving” He pulled her slightly away. “But I should examine you more closely and see it for myself.” He undid the rest of the top of her dress and removed her undergarments, exposing her breasts. Then, with his large hands, he squeezed and pushed up her full breasts repeatedly. Navani’s eyes locked onto his and she bit her lower lip as he touched her, her arms stretched out behind her. The pants would come off soon, but she wanted to do one more thing.

His mouth looked like it was about to water, and he moved to bend down, but she interrupted his motion with a question. “Can I bite you again?”

Dalinar arched an eyebrow. “If you really are hungry, we could stop and eat.” Hands still holding her breasts, he looked around and noted that most of the food and plates were scattered all over the table or onto the floor during the first part of their love making. “Well, whatever we can salvage.”

Navani shook his head. “That poor shoulder has been injured more times than I can remember. I want you to think of me, the next time it aches, instead of whatever animal, person, or weapon attacked you.”  An unusual request, but Dalinar didn’t love her because she was conventional.

“Go ahead.” He let go of her breasts and rested his hands on her lower back instead, drawing her close. She raised herself and bit his left shoulder, not as hard, then kissed it, sucked it, and licked it. Repeating. At the same time, without looking she finally got his pants off. 

And then she started stroking him, while still attacking his shoulder- biting, sucking, kissing, licking. He slowly breathed in and out to moderate his desire, but when he closed his eyes, the combined sensations at his shoulder and from her hands was almost too much.

“Fuck me,” he groaned.

She released her mouth, hands still, but still touching his cock, and then said, “That’s the plan.”

It required all of Dalinar’s well-practiced restraint, not to throw his wife onto her back and take her, that very moment. With the Connection, she knew he was getting too close, so she let go. Then she looked down in the space between them and lingered a bit, making him nervous.

Dalinar blushed and asked again, “Is there something wrong?” Her head was in the way, and he didn’t see it yet.

“We have a problem.” She lifted her head to meet his eyes, and pulled herself back from him so he could see for himself. “You’re too tall. For this table.” It should have been painfully obvious when he stood up just a bit ago, or when they started the encounter, but they were too occupied getting aroused and bantering with each other to notice until now. It would be difficult to align themselves on the table, and Navani had no delusions of acrobatic feats at her age.

“Shit, now what do we do?” he asked breathlessly.

“Lucky for you, I’m tall too.” She gently pushed him back so she could hop off the table and stand. Wearing heels helped. She turned herself around, so she could lean. “We can still use the table.”

“Practical as usual,” he said, his voice hot against her neck, he pushed down the rest of her gown to let her dress fall off her and stroked her thigh and rear gently. But before he could do anything else, she turned to him suddenly.

“Don’t do anything unusual without asking me first.”

Dalinar then saw it again- the same painful expression his wife held once before. They had openly discussed the failings in her marriage to his brother. He understood how he belittled her, never truly appreciated her brilliance, and constantly took her for granted. But they still never talked about sex. He kissed the side of her head to reassure her, but he felt it wasn’t enough. He’d rather be thrown into the chasms than see her look at him that way ever again.

“I’ll always ask- if I don’t, you have my permission to murder me, boil me alive, feed me to the chulls- whatever suits you.”

She placed a hand to his face, and looked at his eyes to read them, and saw his sadness. “I’m sorry if that ruined the mood.” He took that hand into his and kissed it.

“Don’t apologize. Never apologize for that. If you need me to stop—" She answered by turning around fully to kiss him- passionspren raining down around them.

 “No, I want you now. More than I can ever remember. But fuck this table. I want you on top of me, close to me, pressed up against me, looking right at me. Fucking me,” she said without pause.

“The bedroom?”

“It’s too far.” She moved to the ground. ”And I can’t wait.” He followed her, eyes lock onto hers the entire time.

----

Afterwards, they lay there on the floor for a while, huddled together. Dalinar got up first and helped Navani to her feet, who wearily put back on her dress, while he re-dressed himself below the waist. Dalinar picked up the cups and plates, mending the broken ones with his powers, while Navani found some towels to wipe up some of the spilled mess. Boy did her back frickin’ hurt. And those heels did not help. But the shoes could come off now.

After replacing his shirt, Dalinar walked out of the entrance to their rooms, and spoke to one of the servants to ask for another meal to be delivered. Something about Navani accidentally knocking over the food. She rolled her eyes as he overheard them speak, but she knew it was illogical for him to take the blame. Oathbringer’s revelations about Dalinar’s sins brought enough skeptics. Rumors about physical weakness, illness or disability from their military commander was tantamount to a castration. So instead, Navani would play the role of the clumsy, silly wife - terrible at walking around in heels.

When he returned, Navani was sitting at the table, breaking apart a piece of bread, the only salvageable part of their meal. She snickered, noticing something she hadn’t caught earlier, then threw him a napkin.

“I don’t think your lie worked.” She motioned her finger to her lips, then traced around her face. Dalinar wiped Navani’s lipstick from the lower half of his face, but before he was done- she pointed out the other parts he missed- shoulders, chest, forehead...

“I’m just going to need a bath then.” He walked over to her and lowered his head for another kiss on the lips. Might as well. And he also had a comeback prepared. “But if you could hear me from out there just talking.” He sat down on the table corner next to her. “Even with the doors closed, they probably heard you in here,” he said, smirking.

Navani threw the other half of the bread at him in retaliation- the larger half of course- he needed it for his size. He barely managed to catch it.

“I deserved that,” he admitted.

She nodded.

They ate together, munching on the bread, just enjoying each other’s presence in silence, waiting for their second meal to arrive.

After a while, she spoke. “I’m too thirsty to eat the rest of this. Would you like it?” she asked. Dalinar already having finished his piece, reached out for the remaining portion with his hand.

She shook her head, and pinched off a piece of the bread, rolling it between her hands, and motioned for him to move back.

Dalinar leaned back and opened his mouth, waiting for Navani’s throw. Her aim was as good as his catch. She repeated three times after letting him chew, giggling as she did so, and that finished up the rest of the snack.

“How old are we again?” he asked, wishing he had some water to wash the bread down.

“Old enough to do whatever the fuck we want,” she replied, then frowned. “You - are a bad influence. I didn’t used to curse this much.”

“You didn’t use to come this much either,” he said without skipping a beat. Navani stood up quickly, ignoring the pain in her back and picked up the wine bottle from the table, mimicking the possibility of a throw, while smiling mischievously at the same time.

“I am very tempted to throw this at you. But…” She shook the bottle, hearing and feeling a swoosh. “Lucky for you, there’s still a tiny bit of wine in here. And since I barely had any--" He opened his mouth to correct her, but held back after she glared at him. "This is all mine.” She downed the remaining liquid, licking her lips. “You know, if you could Soulcast or weren’t so clumsy,” she leered at him. “We’d be feasting right now. Instead of competing with the floor for scraps.”

Dalinar extended his hand to Navani, motioning her to sit on his lap. She cheerily, but slowly, obliged, her back continuing its protest. As she sat down and put her arms around him, he said, “Maybe that will be your calling. Like daughter, like mother.”

Navani pondered, as she wiped more lipstick marks from the rest of his body with a napkin. “I don’t think so. You have your Radiants, and I have a city to run.”

“I have faith you can do both,” he answered.

“And so, you’d have me to do both?” she reproached, light-heartedly tapping his chest. 

“Of course not, we’ll do it together. Now that you’ve taught me to read. We’re that much better off.” Stirred by his sincerity, his conviction, his love- she kissed him again, not demurely either, but passionately.

A knock came near the door, which was partly left open.

“Ahem.”

The Queen moved off her husband as quick as she could, which did not help her back. The attendant walked by and placed hot plates of food on the table with a pitcher of water. Navani’s dress was a similar color to the wine, so the stains weren’t too obvious- she hoped.

The servant bowed their head as they left and closed the door for them.

The embarrassed wife groaned. “Dalinar, why would you leave the door open?”

“You looked hungry, and I asked them to bring over our meals as quick as possible. It seemed more efficient to keep it open.”

His wife eyed him skeptically. “Well, next time we’ll either starve or use the bedroom,” she exclaimed, as she slowly walked back to her seat. Her husband poured the water into two cups for them.

“We could have used one of the sofas in here,” he answered, sipping on his water.

“I think you’re too tall for any of them.” She drank from her cup zealously.

“That depends on what position you want me in.”

She almost choked on her water, then gave him a feigned look of exasperation, while he continued to innocently drink from his cup.

His wife sighed. “Surely, we can walk twenty paces over to the next room?” He shrugged, doubtspren, casting their rectangular shadows at his feet.

“You know you’ve ruined me,” she complained.

“How so?”

“How could you or anyone compare after this?”

“Wanting to replace me, so soon?” he jested.

But she didn’t answer. Those words accidentally cut. He saw sadness and worry seep into her face. In public, as queen, Navani was always very good at hiding her emotions. But it was much harder for her to hide anything from him. She looked away, turning to her meal instead. An idea came to her husband.

“I don’t think you need to worry,” he added.

“What I said was just an unfortunate choice of words. I’m joking of course- you don’t have to outdo yourself. I don’t think it’s humanly possible.”

“I think… you’d eventually invent some kind of fabrial to do the job. Much more efficient.”

Navani gasped. “Dalinar! Could your mind be any dirtier?”

“That makes both of us. The Connection is still open, gemheart. I sensed your reaction to the idea was unequivocally positive.” He raised his eyebrow.

“I’m going to retrieve that wine bottle now.”

“You’ll call it ‘Little Dalinar,’ after me.”

She shook her head, in pretended fury. “I’m going to take my meal in the bedroom now, and I kindly request your turn off the Connection.”

“No need.” Her husband reached for her arm to reassure her. “Now – I’m the one who’s joking- it’s been off since two or three swear words ago. I swear it.”

She looked back to him, in thoughtful reflection. “Sometimes, it’s difficult for me to tell if it’s there or not. I think it’s because I feel connected to you, even when we are just talking normally.”

“Trying to seduce me again, with your sincerity?”

“I’m being serious.” He had another quip, but held it, wanting to hear her speak instead. “We’ve known each other for almost forty years now and have only been able to love each other this past year. But it’s almost like those forty years were compressed and expanded to fit into one. Am I making any sense?” He nodded, listening to her closely. “Maybe another way to explain it, is that we have the comfort and familiarity of a forty-year relationship but are now gifted with the passion and excitement of new love.”

She smiled, looking happier than he’s ever seen her. It was breathtaking. The Bondsmith wanted to hold on to this image, so he could replay it in his mind forever.

“Really, this is all a blessing,” the love of his life proclaimed.

Dalinar Kholin gazed at his beautiful and brilliant wife, adoringly. She was right. In that moment, he truly understood how fortunate it was that they were united later in life, when they were wiser, more patient, more mature. He would never gamble trading this single year for an imagined possibility of the forty lost to them. Perhaps, all of this was a consolation. It would be impossible for them to have forty more.

“Your brilliance,” he stood up. “And beauty.” Then bent over to kiss her. “Have only improved with age.” And sat back down and smiled back at her. “I’m going to have to lock you up, so that other men don’t try to steal you from me.”

“You may not need to do that.” The middle-aged woman tried to sit up straighter in the chair, then winced. “I don’t think I can get up from my chair. My back gave out.”

---

After completing their meal, Dalinar Kohlin helped his aging wife out of her chair and over to the bedroom, and then got them both ready for bed. The next day the King and Queen would both set out to lead and command their own teams- to save the world- to run a city- to protect and unite others. But for a few hours every night, they could retreat into their private space, and live their lives simply as an older couple enjoying the remainder of what should be the last part of their lives together, in peace.

 

Notes:

RoW 16:
Dalinar's alliteration
“Dalinar passed by, rapping the boots with his knuckles. “Decorum,” he said. “Discipline. Dedication.”

OB 104
Jasnah knows chulls
"Jasnah had written about that, of course. Jasnah somehow found time to write about everything, from her father’s biography, to gender relations, to the importance of chull breeding cycles on the southern slopes of the Horneater Peaks."

My favorite line/scene:
"“How old are we again?” he asked, wishing he had some water to wash the bread down.

“Old enough to do whatever the fuck we want,” she replied, then frowned. “You - are a bad influence. I didn’t used to curse this much.”

“You didn’t use to come this much either,” he said without skipping a beat'

Chapter 8: New Memories (E) (OB-RoW)

Summary:

Navani and Dalinar have a real big fight.
Addiction is back- it never left.
Gavilar too. Kind of.
Fen gives good advice.
Uncomfortable sex scene look up "unexpectedly"
Bondsmith powers explored.
Horse riding.
Tame sex scene near the end.

Longest chapter so far.

Notes:

Epigraph TBD- Contest countdown

On the third day, Navani had had enough.

True, his absence wasn’t nearly as burdensome as it was a year ago, those drunken weeks before the Battle at Thaylen Field.

It helped that Jasnah, now Queen of Alethkar, also joined in on the meeting of the monarchs. And although the mother and daughter didn’t always agree, the one meeting that did occur ended without debate. No major controversies or looming battles on the docket.

Also, unlike a year ago, Adolin, Shallan and Kaladin were in Urithiru- not on an away mission. And they very capably handled the respective needs of the Kholin army and Radiants, with General Khal and Renarin providing additional support.

Even Lift and her team seemed to be doing fine without the Bondsmith’s supervision. A pipeline to exotic foods and meals via Sebarial traders helped settle the energetic, at times, unruly, youth and her enormous appetite and made her less flighty.

The kingdom was holding together without their king. And for once, the queen wasn’t left picking up the pieces. Those pieces had been glued together with his powers before he left. And those bonds were strong.

But even the strongest walls will crumble if neglected long enough.

Last time, a part of her was angry - being left alone with those burdens.

This time, with hardly any burdens, a part of her was scared.

Because this time, she had no idea where the fuck he was.

In fact, he had even infused all their gemstone reserves before he went missing too. It was as if he had quite purposefully made sure his absence could go unnoticed. Except that an exceptionally tall and large human was no longer sleeping on his side of their bed.

A year ago, she had allowed the servants to bring the alcohol into their rooms, while she cleaned up the bottles to return the next day. Because unlike her father, Dalinar was a kindly and sad drunk. There was no fear of violence or abusive behavior. She’d rather he drink himself to oblivion at home than at some seedy tavern or anywhere out in public.

And she’d always know where to find him.

In their rooms.

Three days ago, she returned to those rooms and found a poorly scrawled note with two short sentences, left on her writing desk.

I’m sorry. Don’t worry.

On the first day, she followed orders. Don’t worry.

A moment alone. An entire day without burdens, without her, is a very reasonable request, especially for the most important and powerful man in the world.

And they of course spent nights apart during their marriage. When he left to support Radiants on the field for training or in battle. The difference again is that she knew where he was and what he was doing.

But hiding. Purposefully hiding. Purposefully hiding from her. Was not something Dalinar Kholin has ever done after they were married, after he no longer needed to restrain himself. Hiding was what his brother did. Because Gavilar had secrets. And those secrets destroyed everything.

On the second day, she discreetly asked the guards she trusted the most to start looking for him in the taverns in Urithiru and in the warcamps on the Plains. She had considered asking her daughter-in-law, who’s alternate persona was a spy, but thought it might be better to avoid worrying Adolin too.

None of them actually knew he was missing, except those guards. They all assumed he was in their rooms.

If he had given her a timeline, a location to check in on, even a second message, it would have soothed her.

Instead, she went to bed without him on the second night, and she woke up on the third day thinking he may have returned. Because she thought she smelled him. But it was his cold pillow, which she had abducted during the night, hugging it close to her chest.

After lightly punching the duplicitous pillow a few times to vent her frustration, she resolved to search for him herself.

Coincidentally, there were no major problems in the city to troubleshoot, and her engineers were progressing well with their projects without her input.

Everything in their lives was going swimmingly, except for the one thing that mattered to her the most.

---

At her writing desk, the same one where her husband had left his mysterious note, Navani read over her list again.

Because Urithiru was massive, there was no way for her to find him by blindly searching rooms, even with a team of guards at her disposal. So, the scholar sought a more logical approach.

The list was short, which was good as it wouldn’t take long to complete it. But at the same time very depressing.

A list of Dalinar’s closest friends. Those who know him best.

Short, because most others were dead. Teleb, Havar, Perethom, Ilamar - Torol and Gavilar too for how long he’d know them… Even for those still living, she couldn’t recall a recent time he’d interacted with them outside of duty and obligation.

Kadash, was an ardent, one of his slaves, and they were still mending from the religious fallout last year. Khal was his longest-serving general, who he saw enough of at work. Felt and Bashin? Felt might be hard to find. He was a scout. An older one, who was given the freedom to explore on his own without direct orders. Bashin, the former solider turned axehound breeder was retired now, and she at least knew where to find him.

The little time Dalinar- and Navani- could spare was spent with each other and their family.

It now occurred to her to wonder- what did he do in his spare time before they were married? What would he do once they saved the world?

Outside of running a city, Navani had her fabrials, a hobby turned passion. Dalinar enjoyed physical activity, but his aging body would eventually catch up.

Old Alethi men, the ones who survived war, could be found drinking away their last days in a tavern, attending dueling matches, or gambling at axehound races.

And what do former warlords or military kings do once the war is over? Once there is peace? Gavilar searched for something dark and mysterious- and ended up dead because of it.

What did Dalinar seek? He had once told her he needed to dedicate his life to something in order to control his extremes. His brother first. And more recently the Codes and the teachings of Nohadon. The Codes wouldn’t sustain a retired general. Perhaps those teachings? A different king’s writings. Or could it possibly be her? But that level of dependency would seem unhealthy. And she didn’t need him to stroke her ego.

Bah! None of it mattered if the man simply disappeared.

But unless he was camping out in the wilderness, hunting and foraging his own food, someone would know where he was. Someone must be interacting with him. And even in that survivalist scenario, there was always someone he could not escape.

---

Navani grunted from the effort to open the metal door to the roof of Urithiru. Others, including her strong and tall middle-aged husband, made it looked easy. She thought to herself, What a poor design. A sliding door would be much easier to open and close. Eventually this swinging metal door would need to be replaced, for all the abuse it suffered from being forcibly pushed open, only to come crashing down on the other side.

After bracing herself for the unpleasant noise of metal clanging against stone, Navani walked up the last few steps onto the very top of the tower city.

As always, the rooftop of Urithiru brought back happy memories. Their wedding. The times they met here to get away from it all, sometimes at night. They’d look at the stars, huddled together sharing their warmth.

Navani was unsure if this would work, but there didn’t seem any harm in trying. Tucking away her nervousness, she turned and looked upward, regarding the sky. Then took a deep breath.

“Stormfather, can you hear me?!” she asked, yelling out as loud as she could, shouting towards the clouds.

Silence.

“I’m looking for my husband. Where is he?”

Silence again.

“Can you at least tell me how he is doing?”

A distant rumbling could be heard.

Navani pondered a moment, then rephrased her question. “Can you ask him how he is doing?”

After another pause, and then Stormfather answered, THE BONDSMITH SAYS HE IS FINE.

“When will he return?”

Rumbling noises rumbling at each other.

UNKNOWN.

“Tell him I miss him and I love him,” she requested.

A strong breeze struck the top of the tower. At the same time, the Stormfather bellowed at her.

YOU SHOULD NOT MAKE DEMANDS OF ME, he warned. I WILL NOT BE A MESSENGER FOR EITHER OF YOU.

And then it was silent again.

Navani frowned. Unsuccessful. But she had a possible method of communication. As long as the god-spren was feeling generous.  She’ll just have to go down the rest of her list, one-by-one.

---

In the far northwest section of the tower, where the Kholin livestock, horses and axheounds were stabled, Navani ran into Adolin, her ever-effervescent nephew, grooming his brooding horse.

“Good afternoon, Adolin. Have you been here long?” she asked, as she pulled her cloak closer over her shoulders. It was chilly here.

“I’m just about to leave, what are you doing here Aunt Navani?”

“I was speaking to Bashin about his axehounds. I’m thinking of getting one for Gavinor.” It was a half-truth. She had visited the retired officer. Unfortunately, he had no new clues about her husband’s whereabouts.

“That seems like a great idea,” Adolin said as he finished brushing the massive Rhyshadium, ending the routine with a few good pats over the large animal’s shoulder.

Navani looked at the pair, curious. Rhyshadiums are said to chose only one rider. But there was something between the two, Dalinar’s son and Dalinar’s horse. She looked into the rectangular pupil of the blue-eyed steed, trying to gauge his intentions. Gallant then snorted at her and galloped away.

Hypocrite, she thought.

As she and his horse traded psychic jabs at each other, Bashin’s wife walked toward them, carrying an axehound pup in her arms.

“Good to see you, your Majesty. It’s been a long time.”

“It has.”

Truthfully, Navani wasn’t well acquainted with the wives of most of Dalinar’s men. That role had been Evi’s. A highprince’s wife would have been expected to host social gatherings for her husband and his men’s families.

As queen, Navani organized the King’s feasts, which brought over the highprinces and important light eyes. It served more of a political purpose than social, often a place where schemes were hatched and deals made. Nonetheless, they were often quite grand in order to showcase the power of the crown.

Dalinar did not adhere to that tradition, not compatible with his puritan tastes. The couple also checked in with the highprinces routinely at their war-planning and city-planning meetings. The fight against the Voidbringers kept everyone well occupied, and Dalinar’s ability to supply precious Stormlight tapped down most dissension.

But in his youth, Dalinar had been more sociable, though some of it was tavern-hopping and half-drunken brawling. Perhaps, she needed to encourage him in this domain-  seek out company for a purpose other than giving out orders. Navani considered who they would invite, and her thoughts wandered again to the dead.

So many of his oldest friends had been killed at the Battle of the Tower. Six thousand men dead in a blink of the eye. Six thousand dead sons and brothers. Six thousand widows.

And one widow in particular might have more information. Though her husband died in another battle.

---

Navani was greeted by a warm smile from a thin lighteyed woman with greying hair. Kalami, Teleb’s widow, a historian-scholar by training.

Her husband, a former enemy turned friend, was the archer who had struck multiple black arrows into a young armored Dalinar, all those years ago, reaffirming the righteousness of the Blackthorn’s moniker. Teleb was killed in the Battle of Narak.

Although her husband’s pension would have met her needs, Kalami volunteered to scribe for House Kholin. Scholarship and work kept the middle-aged widow busy, a distraction from her grief, though she continued now, more than a year later. She was often tasked with monitoring or sending dictated messages. Perhaps she might have heard something by spanreed.

“Brightness, how may I assist you?” Kalami asked, sitting across from the queen in her assigned room in Urithiru. As they spoke, the middle-aged historian poured tea for her guest and herself into two cups on the sofa table.

“Did Dalinar receive anything noteworthy by spanreed recently?”  Navani asked anxiously.

“Has the Brightlord not discussed it with you yet?” she said, while placing a cup of hot tea in front of the queen.

“Discussed what?”

Kalami has just lifted her cup up to drink from it, but instead set it back down. “Brightness, if he hasn’t informed you yet, I really don’t think I should…”

Navani then grabbed the scholar’s freehand with her gloved one. “He’s missing, Kalami. Not just drunk. Missing,” she pleaded. “Please help me find him.”

The widow looked at the queen. A woman like her who loved her husband dearly. A husband who was still alive and could return to her and hold her again. She squeezed Navani’s hand back before answering her.

“I don’t know where he is, but I might know why he went missing,” she started. “We received a message from Herdaz.” And then the scholar’s expression grew somber.

As Navani listened, she let go of Kalami’s hand and placed her own hands over her mouth, upon hearing the identity of the correspondent.

“Toh wrote back.”

 

---

 

Toh, Evi’s brother.

He had been living Herdaz for the past ten years. Before the contents of Oathbringer were publicly disclosed and Dalinar’s role in his first wife’s death were revealed, the king had sent a message to his former brother-in-law. That was close to a year ago.

“I don’t have a copy of the exact message, but I can paraphrase its contents for you,” Kalami offered.

“Please. If you can.” Navani sat up in her chair, hands now precisely folded across her lap, ready to carefully digest this new information.

The middle-aged historian took a sip from her teacup before continuing and motioned for her guest to do the same. The beverage might help soothe her anxiety, if only just a touch.

Out of politeness, Navani drank the hot tea, and though it probably tasted fine, she could only appreciate its warmth. The only way to soothe her worries was to get closer to finding him.

“Toh explained that he was initially shocked and angry,” Kalami said, setting her cup back on the table. “But moreso, too overwhelmed by his own guilt to respond. Because he had pushed Evi into accepting an ill-suited match. And traded his own sister to a warlord for wealth and security, only to then abandon her. He didn’t feel he had the right to be angry.”

Kalami paused. She had known Evi for over a decade and had been fond of her. A gentle and kind soul, but too trusting and innocent, as if she needed to be protected like a child. And everyone around her, especially those closest to her, failed her miserably. The aging widow let out a sigh.

“But over time, Toh took inspiration from his faith and from Evi herself, knowing that she would have offered them forgiveness.” And the widow knew with certainty that this was true of the highlady she had formerly served.

Navani knit her brow, feeling more perplexed. Dalinar had his brother-in-law’s forgiveness. Why was he still so haunted?

Then, Kalami placed her hand over Navani’s, a tender touch, to help brace her for the next part.

“Toh ended his message, still asking for forgiveness,” she explained. “He said he would pray for the day that his nephews could forgive the both of them for killing their mother.”

 

---

No closer to finding her husband, Navani slowly walked the dark hallways of Urithiru alone, hands clasped behind her back. The sun had set, and there were few people outside of their rooms due to the cold. Essentially, the hallways were hers, as if she alone lived in the massive tower. It made her feel uneasy, especially the way the artificial lights from the diamond spheres cast shadows on the ground.

She quickened her pace to get to the central hub where the Tower’s lifts were located. As she did, she thought on Kalami’s revelation, and how it might have affected her husband.

Navani had been there when Dalinar delivered his confession to his sons. Both shocked, as expected, but neither of them expressed frank anger. Adolin though was unusually quiet. The normally ebullient young man excused himself with a terse farewell. Conversely, Renarin, always quiet, offered a few words of understanding. It wasn’t you, Father. It was Odium’s work.

But even if Evi and his sons forgave him- could Dalinar ever truly forgive himself? For his part in killing a sweet and innocent woman, a woman he loved, the mother of his children?

Navani further thought- without her death, he’d never have been able to marry her. Was there guilt in that too? Is that why he left her?

As she approached the lifts, the Kholin guards posted there bowed to her respectfully. One in particular caught her eye. A dark-haired man with slightly pale skin who looked a little out of place.

“What was your name again, Sergeant?” she asked.

“Rial, your Brightness er…Your Majesty,” he said as he saluted her.

“May I speak to you in private?”

“Of course, Your Majesty!” He smiled at her, a bit too broadly. It made him look even greasier.

They walked over to an unattended section of the central hub before restarting the conversation.

“My husband seems fond of you,” Navani said. “He told me you remind him of some of his friends in his youth.”

“What a gracious compliment from the King! I will take it ta heart, Your Majesty.” He bowed to her.

Navani frowned, unnerved by the bridgeman’s obsequiousness.

“Have you—have you visited him today?” she asked.

“In the flesh? No… But I did run an errand for him.”

“What errand?” the queen demanded.

“I’m a.. not at liberty to say, Bright-- er…Your Majesty .”

Navani grumbled to herself, arms folded.

“I need to speak to him urgently. You will take me to him.”

“I wish I could, Your Majesty. But I’ve only—” In that moment, Navani noted a faint red flashing glow from the soldier’s uniform pocket.

Before the bridgeman could act, the queen darted forward and reached into his pocket, snatching the flashing ruby. Navani then stepped back, holding the ruby tightly in her fist. As Rial started towards her, she placed a gloved safehand palm out and stopped him.

“Don’t even think you can take this back from me,” Navani warned. “I will scream. And who do you think the guards will believe?”

“I’da hope it would be me, since I know them personally,” Rial said. “But you make a very fine point, Your Majesty.” He nodded to her approvingly. “Very fine.”

“You are dismissed, Sergeant,” the queen commanded.

Rial bowed to her, then said, “I wish you luck in finding his Majesty -- Your Majesty.” Then he grinned, though it looked more like smirk. “But maybe I should be wishing his Majesty luck instead.” And he walked back to his post.

Glad to be rid of the oily man, Navani breathed a sigh of relief. Tracking down the paired ruby was theoretically possible, but far too time consuming. Instead, she would need to attach the ruby to a spanreed, and Dalinar’s message would be sent to her instead. She was certain she would be able to find him tonight, with a little help from some people she trusted.

 

---

 

In every city in the world, even in great ones, there’s a section where the poor, out-of-luck, and the lowest rungs of society live. In Urithiru, they called it the Slopes, on account of the angle of the floor. Most spheres, Roshar’s main form of currency, were slightly flattened on one side to prevent them from rolling away, but this was inconsistently or poorly done for the cheapest ones, diamond chips. If you placed one on the ground, it might slowly tumble away, a cruel joke for those whose sphere pouches were already too light. But the area was crowded and unkempt enough that trash, random debris, or a neighbor’s tent would probably block the wandering currency’s path.

Many addicts wind up in the Slopes. Unwanted by their families and out of options. No one could reject them there. Gloomspren and agonyspren frequented the location. Those grey streamers adorned the upside-down faces made of stone, like so many strands of hair.

Navani of course had her people look into solutions. But this was something that neither fabrials nor even magic could fix, the latter as proven by her own husband.

Can temptation be as easily taken away as a child’s candy?

Prohibition would only line the pockets of the seediest entities to produce adulterated substitutes then distribute them through the black market.

What about stability? A purpose?

With the parshmen workforce decimated, jobs were always available. And although menial labor didn’t offer a life of luxury, no one was starving. The Tower also literally provided a roof over everyone’s head.

When those memories haunt you, what can you do but seek escape? And retreat from the cruel reality of simply existing and reliving the pain again.

Addiction is an incurable disease. It’s like the weather, some days are a drizzle, other days are sunny, then occasionally there’s a storm. And on Roshar, those storms returned almost predictably, and always with absolute certainty.

 

--

 

“Brightness, Skar will make the drop-off, and I’ll keep surveillance,“ the blond Radiant said. “It’s likely he’ll use an intermediary to receive the goods. And I can tail them.”

“Thank you, Drehy,” Navani said appreciatingly.

But Dalinar himself arrived in a hooded cloak, and despite a more slouched posture, it was not enough to disguise his telltale frame. Perhaps he didn’t want to burden one more person with his problems. Or maybe he simply wanted to be found.

The door to his hiding place was unlocked – he was in an actual room, not a makeshift tent- and Navani only had to push it open to enter. And there was her husband, sitting on the stone ground of a dimly lit room - with diamond spheres scattered on the floor. One of them rolled towards her foot as she stepped in. She gently kicked it back, as he looked up at her at the same time, before glancing away.

There were only few empty bottles of alcohol lined up on the ground. But curiously, nearby him were stacks of misshapen pieces of glass, miniature sculptures.

Dalinar sucked in a small amount of Stormlight, and with his left hand reached over the broken bottle that lay next to him on the ground. He scooped up the pieces and united them. But not in their rightful place. Fragments of the neck, the circular base and the spout were obvious, recalling its previous form. But now that they were glued together in a contorted state, it could no longer serve its original purpose. Dried blood stained some of the glass sculptures where he had likely cut himself. Altogether, it had the look of a grotesque art show. He placed his newest creations onto one of the stacks and bonded them together.

The king didn’t appear drunk- likely on account of the Stormlight. Though he would have had to intentionally use its healing powers to sober up. But didn’t that defeat the purpose of the drinking?

Navani found a stool, which she then picked up and set it down in front of him. “If you needed help matching those pieces, you could have sent for me,” she said warmly.

Dalinar swept the rest of his deformed creations into his arms, then bonded them all together into one large, mangled piece about two foot tall and two feet wide. “I can manage,” he said quietly without looking at her. He then lifted the fused piece and set it aside, placing it in the corner of the room.

“Dalinar-- gemheart, please come home,” Navani said as she sat down. “If you’re not done drinking, that’s fine. But at least let me look after you.”

He laid his head back against the wall and said with resignation, “You wouldn’t want me there.”

“We’ve been through this before,” his wife said. “I know you can and will push through this. I’m here to support you. I’ll always be here.”

The Blackthorn sighed, then picked up the diamond sphere that had rolled to him and placed it in a sphere pouch. The room grew dimmer. “I don’t deserve it,” he said.

“Isn’t that for me to decide?” Navani asserted. She stood up from her chair and knelt in front of him. Then placed her hands on his arms, which he kept folded, against his body. “Kalami told me what Toh wrote. You just need to give your boys some time. And I don’t even think it’s as bad as you think.”

He briefly met her eyes, before looking away again. “It’s not just my sons, Navani,” he said. “I—I’ve done something else. Something that would hurt you. Something unforgiveable.”

In a split second, Navani’s mind ran through and processed what she thought was the worst case scenario. Did he cheat on her? With who? She could still forgive him right? It’s not the same as with Gavilar. Not a mistress. Probably a one-time fling while drunk.

“Let me be the judge of that,” she eventually said as her heart raced with anticipation. She let go of his arms and placed her hands on her lap, gripping her own legs instead, to brace for the news.

Dalinar stared at her with a fearful and pained expression. It reminded her of when he had explained to her that he had no memory of his first wife. That he has used magic and it tore all memories of her away. The room was too dark to see the agonyspren that crept up on him.

“I—I found one of your old journals,’ he said in a low voice. “When I was drinking and looking for more alcohol.”

“You mean the ones I’d written in a coded language,” she said with relief. Not another woman after all. “You can’t read them anyway. What are you—"

Dalinar shook his head. “That’s what I thought too. But when I opened the book I could understand it.” He continued, head bowed down as he explained.  “We’d had sex that morning and…”

“The Connection,” she said. “…was still open. And allowed you to understand it.”

“It should have been off,” Dalinar asserted. “I don’t understand what happened.”

As the morbid black crosses twitched across her lower body, she swallowed hard, then pressed for more information. “Dalinar- what did you read? What.. what event.. what day was it?”

“The day Gavilar and I dueled before I left for Herdaz.” He then said softly, “What happened to you in the bathtub. What he did to you.”

Suddenly, she felt dizzy. The room spun, and her vision darkened. She was breathing, but the air cut into her lungs like knives. No one was supposed to know. Gavilar was dead, and those memories should have just died with her.

Her current husband, completely unaware of the effect of his next question would have on her, then asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

And there it was.

Why.
Why didn’t she tell anyone?
Why did she let it happen?
Why did she let him abuse her?
Why didn’t she leave him?

Dalinar had a vague understanding that Navani had suffered some sort of sexual trauma during her first marriage. It had affected their sex life, but she had been able to move past that. But now it all resurfaced again.

She had never planned to reveal to him the details. Never the entire truth.

No one was supposed to know.

Shamespren, fluttered around her, their white and red petals cascading whimsically, while she trembled. Another painful memory hit her, hard enough that she physically winced.

You went where the money and power would be greatest. Like any common whore.

Her entire body hurt as if she was being compressed by the air surrounding her, and she wished she could just disappear.

No one was supposed to know.

What felt like an eternity to her but only lasted a minute, Navani finally broke out of her mental spiral. She buried her shame again, as she had done almost a decade before, and called on anger and fury to empower her. Trembling still, she stood up before answering him, and welcomed the angerspren boiling beneath her.

“Why?” she yelled. “How dare you?” she shouted. “You don’t get to ask me why. I don’t have to explain myself to you or anyone!”

Dalinar sat on the ground baffled. But hadn’t he—shouldn’t he have anticipated her anger? Or had he already grown accustomed to expect her forgiveness? That he could blame it all on the alcohol.

“That’s not what I meant, gem-“

“No- I understood you quite clearly,” she said, cutting him off, as she stormed for the exit. Dalinar attempted to stand and follow her, but the ground was wet from the leftover alcohol spilled from those bottles, and he was not completely sober. He nearly slipped and had to hold himself up against the wall.

His wife spun around and continued her verbal assault. “And did you ever ask Evi- why? What she had to put up with, while she was married to you?” On the ground, near the exit, she found another diamond sphere that had rolled over, and threw it at him. It shattered against the wall near his head, and the gemstone fell from its circular cage onto the ground.

“You have no right- no fucking right to ask me! No fucking right to invade my privacy and read my private thoughts!” She picked up another sphere and threw it. This time it crashed into his twisted glass sculpture, splintering it back into hundreds of pieces. “I don’t fucking care if you were drunk or not!”

Dalinar did not cringe nor attempt to block the objects thrown, but it stopped his movements each time he stepped towards her. He sucked in the small amount of Stormlight from the fallen gemstones to purge the remainder of the alcohol in his system. And the room continued to darken, weaving dozens of neighboring shadows together.

“Navani, please. It was an accident I didn’t have control over—"

“No,” she spat at him, her chest heaving violently. “You exploited our Connection for your own selfish reasons. Don’t you dare tell me otherwise!”

”I—I don’t know what to say,” he pleaded. ”I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“Why don’t you grow up. And stop using the past as an excuse to abandon your responsibilities, leaving the rest of us to cover for you.”

He had walked close enough to touch her now, and though he towered over her, the heat of her anger made him shrink. “Of course,” he replied. “I’ll return right now. I’ll stop drinking.”

But even in the darkness, he could see the tears on her cheeks and the redness in her eyes. Those eyes, normally so brilliant and playful. Now overtaken by painful emotions.

Bracing for her anger, heedless of the heat, Dalinar attempted to embrace his wife, to comfort her.

And then she recoiled from him, turning her head away, eyes shut, arms held in front of her face and body in a defensive posture.

It was more painful than a slap. More painful than a sword driven into his chest. He took a step back and gave her back her space. Agonyspren returned to greet him again.

Though, she was near enough to the exit to leave, after Navani opened her eyes and regained her composure, she chose to end the argument by grabbing her sharpest knives, like she had done on Gavilar’s final night. And drove them into the man she loved so much.

“You can lie to yourself and say you’re not like him. But you’re just as entitled as he was, now that he’s dead and out of the way,” she told him.” My son was right. You apologize, but it never stops you. You decide what you want, and you seize it.

“So fuck you and fuck your brother too,” she spat. “You know you kiss like him too. When I close my eyes, it’s like he’s shoving his tongue down my throat again. Did he teach you that as well?”

Dalinar stood there, completely defeated, unable to answer her accusations. In battle, surrender might have been an option. Another apology- an admittance of guilt. But he froze, like a young cadet, sent out in the first wave. A guaranteed slaughter. His wife then took the kill shot.

“I don’t care if you return back to our rooms or not. But if you do- don’t you dare touch me. And don’t you dare Connect with me, ever again.”

Navani then pulled open the door, and ran off, placing the hood of her cloak over her head. Both Skar and Drehy had been waiting outside. Drehy trailed after her, while Skar made sure Dalinar didn’t follow.

The Bondsmith wondered if opening their Connection would have helped them understand each other, but it would only prove her point. That he seized whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. And it was clear that she wanted nothing to do with him.

“I’m sorry, Brightlord,” Skar said. “You understand. Our duty is to protect her Majesty.”

Dalinar nodded to him. “Thank you for doing what I cannot,” he said in a quiet voice.

“Just give her some time, son. She’ll come around,” the bridgeman said in encouragement. Though he was only in his early thirties, the younger man’s hair had started to grey at the temples.

The king returned to his once secret room and collecting his belongings, a spanreed, some papers and writing tools. After he left and made it about half way to the lifts, he realized he had left a few things behind.

Back in his hideaway, he knelt on the ground with an infused diamond sphere in one hand for light and found the two small diamond gemstones on the ground. Both dun and fallen from their spherical enclosures. They looked even smaller than he expected. Because when found in their natural state, they are usually quite small, like pebbles.

Diamonds are the most common gemstone on Roshar. They are also the most dense, such that only another diamond can cut them. Each tiny stone is therefore unique and unpaired.

Diamond chips are also the lowest currency denominator, a widely used everyday item with an essential function. And maybe It’s just a fluke, but diamonds are actually the most brilliant gemstone- the best source for light when infused. They are found in every home and inside every sphere pouch, even in a destitute place like the Slopes.

Tiny, but brilliant, useful and strong. Singular. But when dun and drained of all their light, it’s so easy to simply discard them.

He closed his large hand around the two small unlit diamonds, then held it to his chest. Completely sober thanks to the light he had seized, he shed silent tears in a room full of broken and bloodied shards of glass. Unlike those stones at the temple in Thaylen City, these pieces had never asked to be re-united- they didn’t ask to be broken either- but he did it anyway. And it all came crashing down in an instant.

 

---

 

Navani’s entire body was still shaking when she entered their rooms. But she didn’t pause to catch breath or wait for her heart to stop racing. She grabbed a large satchel and retrieved her journals from their poorly hidden hiding space- overconfident that no one would have been able to read them. After closing the chest, she went to her dresser and grabbed a change of clothes and shoved her laid out makeup supplies on the vanity and into her bag.

She wanted to leave a soon as possible. If he returned. If she saw him again- if he embraced her, she’d falter. But she had every right to be angry. She was resolved to it. Resolved to make him suffer for all that she had suffered tonight, these past few days, those few weeks a year ago. Whenever he left her no choice. Whenever he made her feel powerless. Bonding a murderous spren. Charging off to war. Facing an evil god with nothing more than a book in his hands.

On her way out, those other words struck her again, and she nearly dropped her satchel of belongings.

You aren’t worthy.

Drying her tears on her safesleeve, she took a few deep breaths to calm herself. He can have these rooms. Return to an empty bed each night. Not knowing where she was. For now, Navani would seek comfort someplace else. From someone else.

 

---

 

Dalinar struck the oily beast with a powerful blow, breaking its skin. Black fumes hissed out of what was left of its head. Smokestance still worked best with the poker- fluid movements for thrusting, compensating for an imperfect weapon- but now and then a good overhead smash just felt so much better.

He had now familiarized himself enough with this vision that he found a way to keep both Taffa and Seeli safe, so he could then focus on battling the creatures alone.

But there were always too many of them, and each time, they eventually shredded his flesh, mangled his limbs, tore at his face. He could have asked to be placed as one of the Radiants- near invincible, able to heal with Stormlight. But that’s not what Dalinar wanted from this vision. In reality, he was already a Radiant. Here, he could choose to simply be human. He would not use magic to take away the pain. Again.

And sometimes the best way to deal with the pain, is to beat something with a big stick.

On his left, another unholy thing charged at him. He spun around and grabbed it by the neck with his bare hands, then used his dominant fist to repeatedly punch its bulbous body which had a springy feel to it. Another creature jumped onto his back and began chewing on his scalp, but Dalinar did not back off his assault of the one in his hands, even as the blood crept into his eyes. 

Smoke trailed up from the beaten fiend’s mouth, escaping in spurts with each punch, like an overfilled wineskin. He picked up the poker he dropped on the ground, then pierced it through and through its body, and a burst of black smoke filled the room, further clouding his vision.

Blindly, he threw himself against the nearest wall to disengage the one that had been chomping on his head. It took several attempts as he staved off the others with wild sweeps from the poker in his hand. Eventually the creature fell, meeting the same fate as its comrade- two holes with one blow.

As the two other fiends watched a mere mortal killing another one of them in quick succession, they seemed to jointly decide on a poorly coordinated retreat, scurrying back a few paces, further away from the actual exit.

Dropping his makeshift weapon, Dalinar then picked up the lantern on the nearby mantle, and threw it at them, setting them all afire. He had already lined the ground with oil before they arrived. Fire and smoke consumed the room.

Dalinar woke up not long after that. Alone in their rooms. The vision had fulfilled its purpose. Again. It kept him from drinking. Kept him functional.

He walked into their washroom and started his daily ritual. Routine always helped.

After filling a wash basin, he returned to their bedroom and set it down in front of the mirror. He splashed the cold water onto his face, patted it with a towel, and then started shaving. Another thing Gavilar taught me. Though his brother sported a beard for most of his adult life.

Why do you do this, Bondsmith? the Stormfather asked.

“Would you rather I drink?”

The visions were sent by Honor to serve a purpose. To prepare for the enemy.

“And I’m better prepared when sober,” the Bondsmith replied. “Besides, the vision does no harm to anyone in there including myself. It’s not real. It’s better than brawling in this world and wasting Stormlight to heal myself.”

The Blackthorn used a towel and brushed off the shaved beard remnants from his lower face, revealing the person underneath, his furrows, his scars and all his harsh features.

But you experience pain, the Stormfather pressed. And you enter the visions to escape pain. Only to experience another pain. He rumbled. I do not understand.

“If the end result is positive, then why does it matter?” Dalinar answered. This was something Navani had once told him, regarding her fabrial research. Sometimes the machines did things they could not yet explain, and she was satisfied in leaving the explanation behind if it produced positive results.

Dalinar dressed himself in a clean uniform and straightened out the fabric folds in a mirror. He would see her at the meeting of the monarchs. But no words would be exchanged except for what was necessary.

Alethi propriety could be used as a cover for a lack of affection. Except that it would be all too obvious to those around them something was wrong. Even when they were only courting, they’d thrown those outdated customs out the window.

What he would do now, for a single touch. Even a half-hearted handshake. Dalinar attached his sidesword to his belt and steeled himself to fulfill his duties today, refusing to believe that the thing he desired would destroy him. He just had to find the right words.

 

----

 

“What’s going on with you two?” the queen of Thaylenah asked.

Navani rolled her eyes. “Nothing that concerns anyone else but us,” the queen of Urithiru replied.

“Unfortunately, you made it our business when you married each other,” the grey-haired woman said. “I’m sure you don’t need me to explain to you how often marital discord has toppled dynasties.”

“You’ll have my report,” Navani remarked as she stood from her chair. “As soon as you hand over a revised trade agreement for the gemstones we require for our fabrial experiments.”

“I would have you swear on it,” Fen challenged “But I’d wager I already know the contents of your so-called report. ‘We had a fight. It is none of your business.’”

“Thank you for saving me the time to write it.”

Fen grunted, then spotted Dalinar stealing a glance at them from across the room. She sighed, then stood up us well and walked over to her fellow monarch. The Thaylen queen gently grasped the arm of the troubled woman before she walked away. Navani reluctantly allowed the older woman to delay her exit.

“Do you know how fortunate you are my dear? To have married a younger man,” Fen said in Thaylen. It seemed prudent to continue the conversation in a language Dalinar shouldn’t understand. That is, as long as he hadn’t Connected with any Thaylens recently.

“He’s only younger by a few months, Fen,” she responded in Fen’s native tongue. The others passed by them on their way to the far end of the room where a table had been set up for lunch.

“But if he were a decade older, you’d understand,” Fen insisted. Kmakl, Fen’s husband, Thaylenah’s prince consort, had not attended the meeting today as he usually did. Reportedly, he was feeling under the weather.

“Didn’t you say Kmakl just had a cold?” Navani asked, brow knit with concern.

“Yes, and you’ll find as you’re older, colds grow nastier and more frequent.”

“A few months younger doesn’t mean much when you’re determined to become a martyr. It’s not like Kmakl has been trying to fend off evil gods with only a book in his hand.”

“He won, didn’t he?” Fen exclaimed. “Inspired by you, wasn’t it?”

Navani fell silent.

Fen then reached out and held both Navani’s hands in her own. She was a few years older, and also much shorter than the Alethi queen, with golden eyes and a face lined with age. In antithesis to her size, Thaylenah’s reigning monarch readily commanded authority in the way she spoke and the way she carried herself. Some called her overbearing –though of she were a man they would have simply called her a great leader.

In this moment, Fen’s face softened, and she wasn’t the elected ruler one of the largest economies in the world, she was simply a friend offering advice to someone in pain.  

“Dear, there’s a part of the story about Kmakl and me that he likely didn’t tell you.”

“What was that?” Navani puzzled. She recalled a mention of something “scandalous” in a previous conversation that wasn’t ever revealed.

“He proposed three times,” Fen explained. “I had rejected him, despite my own instincts. Because I was afraid that being married would diminish my authority. We lost two months because of it.”

Navani thought on the thirty years they had already lost. And the six more she had waited to chase him. But could she forgive and forget so easily and quickly? Wasn’t that what doomed her relationship with Gavilar- overlooking his faults, giving up her agency, letting him win every single argument?

Fen’s resounding voice lifted Navani up from her dark thoughts. “Two months in your youth is nothing. But when there are fewer months ahead than months behind, it’s priceless. Enjoy it while you can, my dear,” she said. “Don’t let stubbornness get in the way of your own happiness.”

“But what if he’s wrong? Do I just ignore it?”

“Of course not!” Fen huffed. “But if you’re going to teach him a lesson, don’t drag it out.” She shook both of Navani’s hands up and down as if sealing an agreement. “Efficiency dear. Use that brilliant brain of yours and be done with it already.”

Navani glanced over to that chull of a husband of hers who was at the food table with the others. He stood there, listening to a much shorter delegate, leaning towards them with his arms folded and shoulders slouched. It was far from his usual perfect-soldier posture and not an imposing look. It was the look of someone trying to understand. Someone willing to change. Someone wanting to take the next step.

Fen let go of Navani’s hands and made her way over for lunch, waving the Queen of Urithiru over to join her.

“Also don’t worry- with or without your report, I’ll see to your trade agreement,” she told her. “Those storming experimental fabrials of yours saved us. I’d be dead or worse a widow and a hostage if not for what you did.”

Navani chuckled softly. “I did enjoy making a grown man piss himself,” she said. “Especially since that mercenary left me a scar where they cut me.”

“Maybe you can modify your reverse painrial to train husbands to stop acting like idiots,” Fen said. “Give them a good zap now and then.” The women then both laughed together.

From across the room, Dalinar watched from the corner of his eye, as his wife approached with the queen of Thaylenah. He was at best half-listening to the delegate speaking to him but could at least understand him with the Connection. It was good to hear her laugh. It would even be better if they could laugh together again.

 

---

 

She was at her writing desk likely working on her memoirs again when he returned to their rooms.

He paused for a bit, looking at her from across the room, but she continued writing, and made no motions to acknowledge his presence.

“If you haven’t eaten dinner yet,” she said without looking up. “There’s some leftovers that the servants can bring over for you.”

“That’s not necessary,” he answered, as he removed his uniform jacket and draped it over the sofa. “I had dinner with General Khal and his wife.”

Navani looked up from her papers without turning to him - a thoughtful expression on her face- though he couldn’t see it. “Oh,” she said. “That’s nice.” And then returned to her work.

“I would have sent for you, but it was last minute and…”

“You don’t have to explain,” she gently interrupted.

Dalinar let out a quiet sigh, then sat on the sofa, watching her, though her back was faced to him. She was already dressed for bed and her hair was woven into a single simple braid.

“How’s Gavinor?” he asked.

“He misses his Grampa,” she said, as she set her pen down. “Although he might be getting too attached to his grandmother… Or maybe it’s the other way around.” Then filed her papers into a large notebook. ”But it was about time I left.”

Navani stood up and placed the bright diamond sphere she was using at her desk inside a drawer, replacing it with a more dun sphere so there’d still be some light. When she turned around, she glanced at him for the briefest moment, before making her way to the bed.

“The bathtub is refilled,” she told him as she walked away. “But you’ll have to turn on the heating mechanism to warm it up.”

“Thank you,” he said. Then opened his mouth to speak again but didn’t know what to say. So, he simply let out another sigh, took a cold bath and went to bed early too.

 

---

 

He had just fallen asleep, after deciding against entering a vision tonight, when he unexpectedly felt her touch. She had her back turned against him when he came to bed, and the bed was wide, so what she was doing was quite intentional.

“Navani, what are you...” he said half-drowsy.

“Shh…” she whispered. “…don’t move.”  

Navani uncovered her husband, pushing off the blanket and pulling down his clothes, all while still touching him with the hand that was already there.

Her hands were always so soft, especially her safehand. Slender fingers, delicately teasing him. Grasping him gently.

Instinctively, he raised himself up to kiss her, but she backed away.

“No,” she said softly but firmly. “Lay down.”

Thoroughly confused and equally flushed, no words of protest escaped his lips. He did as instructed. Her hands were cold, but she had lubricated them. He shuddered and got hard really fast. Eyes half-closed, he quietly moaned between breath.

Fuck, Dalinar thought as he watched his wife pleasuring him. She was sitting up on the bed, back to him. Her single braid still neatly in place, he could see the outline of her cheek, lit by the light of the first moon, Salas - the violet moon. So fucking beautiful.

Both hands now held his cock. One rhythmically stroking up and down, the other - fingers- teasing at the head, gently pulling down the foreskin to touch the sensitive tip. Wave after wave of pleasure tingled up his spine. Involuntarily, he moved his hips slightly, gently thrusting into her hands, while his own hands tightly gripped the pillow and bed sheet. He grunted softly with each trembling breath.

They hadn’t had sex in over a week- the longest period of abstinence since their marriage, not counting last year’s drunken mess. He wasn’t going to last long.

He so badly wanted to embrace her, press his body up against hers. Kiss her. Feel her breasts against his face, his mouth. Taste her.

She increased her speed, occasionally cupping his balls then stroking with her fingers on the way up. Clear liquid spilled from the tip, and she spread it back down with her fingers, then tightened her grasp around him.

“Fuuuck,” he said as his breath grew ragged, eyes shut tight. Her hands now kept to an alternating pace, in the same direction, so she was constantly sliding over him. They weren’t coming in waves anymore, it was a fucking relentless torrent.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “Shit,” he said. “Please,” he murmured. Over and over again. He convulsed and grunted loudly when he came into her hands, throwing his head back into the pillow.

Navani had a towel ready and cleaned up the mess. She covered him back up and left for the washroom.

He lay there for a minute, letting the release wash over him, catching breath.

What the fuck just happened? he thought, when words could form in his mind again.

As she re-entered the bedroom, he asked, “What was that?”

“It’s called a handjob, Dalinar,” she answered curtly, stopping before him. “You should know that by now.”

He sat up on the edge of the bed, trying but barely meeting her eyes. “That..felt more like a punishment.”

She now stood before him with arms folded. “I would say I have ample proof that you quite enjoyed that,” she said. “Well less than ample since I’ve washed my hands. Should I retrieve the evidence from the laundry?”

Suddenly he slammed his fist on the nightstand next to him, splintering off a piece of wood from its corner. Navani jumped, briefly startled.

“Fuck,” he said and placed his hand on his brow. “I’m sorry.”

She crouched down, picked up the broken piece, and tossed it back on the nightstand. “I suppose now that you’ve learned how to glue things together, you can break whatever you like.”

“No, Navani, please.” Dalinar came off the bed and knelt before her. He placed his arms around her legs, pulling her to him. “Please, don’t do this. Please tell me how to fix this.”

She stared at him for a few seconds, thoughtful.

Then pushed him away.

“Didn’t I tell you not to touch me?” she said sternly and walked around the bed to her side.

Dalinar twisted his body around, following his wife with his eyes. As she slipped out of his vision, he let out an exasperated sigh then stood up.

“Fine then!” he growled. “I’ll sleep in the other room.” He grabbed a pillow from the bed. “In case my hands accidentally wander to the wrong side of the bed!” And he stormed off.

“Wait!” she yelled to him. He stopped and turned around, a faint glimmer of hope.

“I’m the one leaving,” she said, holding a pillow and a roughly gathered blanket in her arms. “You’re too tall for the sofa.” She then marched passed him. “You can enjoy the bed. Alone,” she announced as she exited.

What he would do right now for a bottle of alcohol. For something to punch and beat senseless. Did she know how much this pained him? Did she care? He ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

And yet, he wanted to follow her. Because what he desired most was for her to start loving him again. And then Dalinar almost ripped out the hair from his head when the realization hit him. Of what she was trying to tell him.

His wife was already settled on the sofa, blanket held next to her chin, body turned to its back with eyes closed. He walked quietly, bare feet on stone, and set the pillow down below her on the ground. Then carefully moved the table out of the way.

Navani peered at him, not saying anything, and drew the blanket closer to her face.

He laid down on the hard surface of the floor, a thin rug the only support. As a solider, he’s had his share of inhospitable sleeping arrangements. This didn’t bother him much. He raised one arm over and rested the back of his head on his hand. The room was so quiet, he could hear her breathing.

She turned around, then tossed part of the blanket over to him on the ground without saying anything. He scooted himself closer beneath her and readjusted the covering, to minimize the heat escaping from them.

After a few moments of silence, he finally said softly, “Can I at least tell you, how sorry I am for being a fucking idiot?”

He felt movement through the blanket that connected them, as she lowered her hand down to him in response. He took her small hand into both of his, caressing it tenderly, sharing his warmth with her.

“You don’t need to tell me anything. I don’t need to know,” he said. “But I’m here to listen.”

Navani then moved her hand to his face, drawing her fingers across the furrowed lines of his brow, down to his stubbled cheek and chin. She repeated her motions, gently stroking him. Warm, soft fingers. Dalinar closed his eyes, and finally drifted to a restful sleep, without the aid of alcohol or violence.

 

---

 

He woke up later than her the next day.

He sat up from the ground, and there she was across from him, sitting at the sofa table. Still here in the morning, as he’d grown so accustomed to this past year.

She smiled at him. And in that instant, he felt so happy, he could have tossed the entire sofa into the air out of joy.

She had the heatrial on and surrounding her were stacks of books. Her journals. One was open and next to it a few reams of paper that looked like they were torn out from it.

Grinning like a fool, he asked, “Can I sit next to you? I swear I can’t read any of this.”

She nodded, and he threw off the blanket on him and made his way over.

“Some of this is in Alethi though, but I’ll let you peek,” she said with another smile.

He was about to lower himself next to her when she grasped his leg to stop him.

“No. Could you sit behind me?” she asked. “I could use a headrest.”

“As is your right,” he answered.

He hugged her from behind with his strong arms, setting his hands across her waist. And then breathed in the scent of her perfumed hair, before letting out a contented sigh.

Peering over her head, he asked, ”What are you doing, gemheart?”

“Oh, just trying to get rid of some bad memories,” she said, as she flipped through her journal. Then her lips went to a pout. “But I’m about to give up soon.”

“Why?”

“I wrote on both sides of the paper, and it’s impossible to remove the bad without losing some of the good.”

“Does that apply to husbands as well?”

“And wives sometimes too.” She set the book down, tucked away the torn sheets and turned towards him. “I’m sorry if I was too cruel last night.”

He shook his head. “It helped me understand.” He ran his fingers across her hair, pushing back the loose strands behind her ear. “But can we both agree that my brother was sometimes a huge fucking asshole?”

She chuckled. “A royal one.”

“The most regal,” he added.

She sighed. “The problem was he treated everything including sex like a competition. You know how he was.” Dalinar nodded. “He hated losing.”

She turned herself around so she was kneeling above him. “And despite what I said,” she explained. “You don’t seize everything. You know how to step aside. And you’re not afraid to be unguarded with me. That’s something I need to learn too.” She then lifted his chin with her safehand and lightly kissed him.

“Also I was lying about the kissing,” she said while tracing her fingers across his cheek.  “It’s not the same.” She then eyed him mischievously. “You don’t have a beard.”

He playfully pulled her down to his lap, as she giggled, and embraced her in his formidable arms. Looking up at her, he then asked with raised eyebrows, “Is that all?”

“That and...” she traced her fingers lightly across his lips. “I always want another one.”

“Including now?” he asked while kissing the fingers touching him.

She nodded. “Especially now.”

Navani held the back of his head, and Dalinar tilted his mouth to meet hers, hugging her closer.  They kissed until the sun finally rose, filling the room with light.

After the kiss broke, Navani took a moment to let the passionspren disperse, so she can look at him before speaking.

“That--” she said, then planted a more chaste kiss to his lips. “And this. Will have to sustain us until we are done with our duties for the day.” Navani then hopped off his lap to stand.

“Maybe not,” he said as he rose from the floor as well.

“Dalinar, if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking,” she said as she stretched out her back. “I’m sorry to report to you that my body is not in any shape to do anything arduous after a night spent on that sofa.”

“We could do something less arduous,” her husband said with a sly smile. “But I actually have a different idea, if you’re up for it.”

“Dalinar Kholin, I sense mischief in you,” she said, then teased. “I thought you were a man of the Codes?”

He cupped her chin to behold her violet eyes. “I’m willing to bend a few rules now and then,” he said, happily entranced. “For the right reasons.”

 

----

 

And so, they reasoned that a single day without their king and queen would not be great enough to break the bonds they had united together.

Besides, it wasn’t all for fun. All Radiants, including their only Bondsmith, need practice with their surgebinding powers. And his special powers also need to be researched by a worthy scholar.

“Are you sure you’ve opened it?” Navani asked, shouting from across the field.

“Positive!” her husband answered, shouting back. The pasture was out in the open sky, in an enviable spot in the northwest section of Urithiru. “Go ahead,” the Bondsmith told her. “Test me!”

“Gthlebn Thaylen?” Navani asked with a light Alethi accent.

“Gthleb Thaylen, Alethi, Azish, Rira il slybat. Klath mkalb otyln,” he answered back in near-perfect Thaylen.

The researcher jotted down some notes as her husband and she walked back to each other. She pocketed her book, then pulled her cloak closer over her shoulder, as they met up.

“Viim cachi eko,” she said in Riran.

“Vem viim kocha, vem yashi,” he replied back, then pulled her in close to lend her his warmth.

Her cheeks were flushed, but it wasn’t because of the weather.

“You really are enjoying this, aren’t you?” he asked, smiling.

She lifted her blushing face from his chest and said in a more accented Azish, “It might even be sexier than going about shirtless.” Navani lightly kissed his chest through the loose white shirt he was wearing. The old solider was for once out of uniform for their day off. “The only men I’ve known who can speak this many languages fluently are ardents trained to be translators.”

“That works for me,” Dalinar said in accented Azish. “So I can keep you interested, after my muscles decline with age.”

As she held on to him, her arms encircled around him, Navani reflected on how he had gained a little more girth around his waist over the past year. A diplomat now, no longer a solider. Still, she could trace her fingers across his abdominal muscles and easily count them with her eyes closed.

Dalinar looked at her quizzically. “I have a vague sense you were just counting something,” he said, now continuing the conversation in their usual Alethi.

“You really can’t control the depth of the Connection, can you?”

“The best I can do is turn it on and off,” he answered.

“Well, I’m still confused,” she said. “That maximum distance was about fifty feet without touch. And the day you’d read my journal - I was near the ground level in the lab- a much much greater distance from our rooms.” Navani pursed her lips. “Are you sure it was off?”

“On my way back after receiving Toh’s message, I overhead some Thaylen merchants speaking, and I did not understand a single word.” He shrugged. “Maybe?”

“Maybe on and off aren’t the right ways to describe it,” the scholar surmised. “Maybe it’s always there, and the intensity changes… with the strength of your intent?”

“That might explain why it’s difficult to sense its presence, if it’s actually always present.”

“And when you were in pain.” She raised her hand to caress his face and stroked his rough stubble with her thumb. “You reached out to me to seek comfort.”

“And ended up doing a foolish thing,” he sighed and closed his eyes. “I need better control of this.”

“You’re trying. That’s what matters,” she reassured him. She pulled away from the hug and held to his arm instead. “Come now. It’s my turn to try.”

“If you’re really not comfortable with it, you can stay here and work on your sketches.”

“No, no. I agreed to it. You have a point.” She patted his arm. “If we should ever need to escape, your horse would be the fastest way on the ground, if lashing is not an option. I might as well try and befriend the beast.” Though if they really had to flee, they’d still need to leave through an Oathgate. It would be exceedingly difficult to navigate down the Tower from this high up in the mountains.

“Gallant!” Dalinar bellowed across the pasture. The Rhyshadium arrived mere moments later. Two hands taller and much stronger than an ordinary horse, the massive animal was as black as the midnight sky with blue eyes that looked rather intelligent…almost human-like? Less a beast then, and certainly not a monster, though her Connection with Dalinar was probably coloring her perception for the better.

Gallant blustered as he stopped in front of his chosen, and Dalinar patted his neck fondly. “It’s been a while, old friend,” he said.

His wife smiled fondly at the image of the rider and his steed reuniting. She could sense his joy through the Connection, though she distinctly felt like a third wheel at the same time. But that horse has probably saved him innumerable times, which is innumerable times more than she has. It at least deserved her respect and appreciation.

She approached and took out the sugar lumps from her pocket.

“Can you please ask him, not to bite off my hand?“ she asked.

“Gallant, we’ll be riding together with my wife today,” Dalinar said in a soothing voice. “Please be kind to her.” He gently patted the horse on his snout, then looked to his wife and waved her over. “As long as I’m riding him with you, you should be fine. He’s also never had a problem carrying wounded soldiers off the battlefield.”

Navani brought her hand over cautiously to the Rhyshadium’s mouth, sugar held out in her palm. “So worst case, if he throws me off, he’d at least carry my wounded body somewhere.”

Gallant eagerly consumed the snacks. It seemed that they both shared a sweet tooth. Then the horse blew out forcefully, and the smell was less than pleasing.

“That seemed intentional,” Navani said. “But I appreciate the intactness of my limbs.”

Afterwards, it took some effort to get Navani on top of the large, incredibly tall stallion even with his help, but of course Dalinar made it look easy when he hopped into the saddle behind her. Ideally, he should have been in the front for better control- but it would be impossible for Navani to get on by herself and sit behind him.

“When I start to speed up, lean forward a bit and hold on tightly,” he told her.

“Hold on to what?” she turned back to him, puzzled. Aside from the reins, there were no obvious handholds. And she’d rather not upset the beast—er...horse- by pulling on its hair.

“The saddle pommel if we have time to place one, but if we don’t have that- you might have to hold on to his mane or grip around his neck. Anything except for the reins,” he said. “And don’t worry. I’ll use Adhesion and you should stick to me. I’m right behind you. I won’t let you fall.”

The field was appreciably large on foot, but on this massive horse it felt small. They quickly progressed to a well-paced trot, then gradually moved to a canter and then a gallop.

With the Connection, she could sense the tension in his muscles actually relax as they continued riding – it helped her feel at ease too.

They had circled the entire pasture a few times before Dalinar warned her, “All right, we are going to push now for speed.“

Navani leaned forward and felt her husband touch her back with the palm of his hand -a warm sensation like sitting near the hearth- then his broad chest pressed against her back snugly. At full galloping speed the vertical movements were much more vigorous, but since she was attached to her husband, there was less discomfort on her pelvis.

The view was basically the same since they were limited by the enclosed area. And after she figured out a position to avoid being constantly whacked in the face by Gallant’s hair, she closed her eyes for a few moments instead to feel. To smell. To hear.

His heartbeat racing in exhilaration. The cool crisp mountain air. Strong hooves pounding into the dirt in a cascading tempo. And…. music?

She opened her eyes and saw whirling translucent ribbons dancing in the air with them. Musicspren. With her eyes open, she couldn’t hear the notes anymore – but when she closed them again - she could distinctly hear—and feel? A pronounced skipping beat that never repeated itself in the same pattern.

“How are you doing?” he asked, his voice carrying into her through their connections. But he didn’t need to ask- he could sense her euphoria too, as much as she could sense the same in him without looking.

“Great! This is wonderful!” she shouted.

It was like flying to her- but on the ground. Ironic that Dalinar never took to flying in the air by lashing. Though Navani knew that the air was technically blowing against them, it felt more like they were surging forward alongside the wind. Not pulling or pushing. In unison with nature. In harmony.

As soon as they finally pulled to a stop, the kiss couldn’t wait any longer. The Adhesion lashing on her back had already faded. She turned her head, and her mouth immediately met his. He braced her to his chest with one arm across, hand holding her shoulder. They melted into each other for an extended period of serenity. Gallant’s whinny eventually brought them back into reality.

Facing him still, she said, “You know, that was the first time I’ve kissed anyone on a horse. Rhyshadium or otherwise.”

“So I’m your first?” he asked, as he nudged Gallant forward towards the stables with a squeeze from his legs. “That goes for me too.” Then the former warhorse nickered, a pleasant, soothing sound, earning him another pat from his rider. “And a new experience for Gallant too.”

Before he hopped of his horse, he asked her, “Do you recall that saying? One can conquer the world with the three shards.”

“Blade. Plate. And mount,” she said. He grunted in the affirmative.

“I no longer possess two of them, but today, I felt more alive on Gallant than I ever have.” He pressed his cheek against the side of her head, breathing in her scent, while his hands held to the reins. “With you by my side.”

“Don’t forget your spren. We have him to thank and curse for your powers.”

Dalinar felt a rumbling inside him. Not angry, but contemplative.

“He does not disagree.” The rider gracefully dismounted from his massive horse.

Navani laughed. “Choosing to reserve final judgement? Why am I not surprised?” She swung her leg around the horse, then got down, supported by her husband’s hands under her arms.

“Well I can say something with certainty,” she added. “I’ll save this memory in my journal - even if the other side is filled with expletives.”

Dalinar gently tugged Gallant along as they continued their conversation, walking into the stables.

“Why not start on a different page?” he asked.

She paused for a moment to think on her answer, with her arms around him, head resting on his shoulder.

“The logical answer is that I need the other stuff, even if it’s bad, for context. To explain how we ended up here today. And also I’d have to use double the amount of paper.” She let go of him so he could secure Gallant into his stall.

“But someone smarter than he gives himself credit, once wrote, ‘A journey will have pain and failure. It is not only the steps forward that we must accept. It is the stumbles. The trials.’” Her husband looked at her fondly as he closed the door to his horse’s stall with Gallant inside it.

Glancing at her armclock for the time, she then thought about the painrial inside it. It was set to dial down intense discomfort to a tolerable level. And another explanation came to her.

“And from a scientific perspective, if I think about how we use painrials. The intention is never to remove the pain completely –because without any pain, you just end up hurting yourself more.” She looked at her husband, triumphantly. “So maybe it’s all quite logical after all.”

He walked up to her and kissed her on the forehead. “Brilliant as usual.” Then went to the food bin and picked up two crispmelons, one under each arm, and set it down in front of his horse.   

Navani, feeling quite content, moved forward to try and pat his horse, when suddenly Dalinar stepped in between them. “No. No,” he said with mild panic. “Don’t touch him when he’s eating his melons.”

“Why? What would happen?” she asked.

“Let’s just be thankful for Edgedancers and Truthwatchers.”

 

---

 

For the rest of the day, they used the illusions- disguises- that their daughter-in-law created for them. The diamond spheres in their pockets should last them until late evening. It would avoid unnecessary interruptions from those looking to get a word in with the king and queen.

A dark-eyed couple with mixed hair colors walked into one of the many taverns in the Ten Rings. The older man traded war stories with other veterans at the bar, while the lady threw her hand at a few card games.

Some odd number of spheres lighter, they made it into their room for the night. Dalinar took out two diamond spheres for lighting, but the sphere cup was missing from the room, so he adhered the spheres together and set them on the table.

“Oof!” she yelled as his wife sat on the bed. “I think we’d have better luck on the floor.” Navani had sunk a few inches into the very lumpy bed. And continued sinking while waiting for his response.

“No, this just means more practice for me.” He extended his hand to his wife and easily pulled her up to stand with one arm. Then he folded those arms, looking thoughtful.

“What’s wrong?” his wife asked.

“Just having an argument with a god-spren,” he answered. “He’s unhappy with the reason for my object of choice to practice Tension.”

“And let me guess. He didn’t give you any other information on how to practice it.” Dalinar shook his head. “Conveniently vague as usual. I’d expect a highstorm to be a bit more decisive.”

“It’s like the ideals. They can’t reveal them to us, and even if we speak them word for word – that’s not how we progress. We need to find the answers and learn them ourselves. And occasionally make mistakes along the way.”

Navani collected the pillows and blanket, moving them out of the way for him. “Consider this learning for ourselves and possibly making mistakes,” she said. “But maybe the war would be over sooner, if they helped us learn faster.”

Dalinar snorted. “He’s really better than he used to be. More human. But still often like a child.” He sucked in some Stormlight from his sphere pouch and placed his palm on the bed, moving across it as if he were trying to smooth out the bed sheets. The bed was now bathed in a soft glowing light.

“Funny. I’ve always considered the Stormfather more like a terribly senile old man.”

“A bit of both. Extremes. Stubborn and naïve at the same time,” Dalinar said. He pressed the palm of his large hands at multiple points across the bed, pushing down and releasing the spot, to test the flexibility. The sagginess was overall greatly diminished. “That seemed to work. We can—” He turned around and paused. His eyes widened.

“Did you need me to finish that sentence for you?” she said, as she combed her hair with her fingers, otherwise completely naked.

Smirking, she answered for him, “We can now fuck comfortably.”  Then she pressed herself up against him and closed his gaping jaw with her fingers. The other hand pulled up his shirt from his trousers and went under to lightly trace his abdomen. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 she counted in her mind.

“Was I really taking that long a time?” he asked when he finally recovered.

“Gemheart, between the two of us, I’m the one who hasn’t had an orgasm an over a week. You’ll forgive my impatience,” she said as she removed his belt. 

Shirt off, pants down- her equally naked husband then held her by her shoulders to gaze into her eyes. “It’s unfair really. All you have to do is give me one look and everything is immediately forgiven. Anytime I look into your eyes, it’s like I’m under your spell.”

Navani turned her head away, then lifted his hand to her face to kiss it and sighed with eyes closed, looking resigned.

“Oh fuck,” her husband said, “did I say something wrong?”

She shook her head. “It just sounds like something Gavilar might have said, but never did.”

Dalinar grumbled, “How can you even stand being around me? With all these reminders of him.”

“Because I loved him too.” She hugged him close placing her chin to his chest, looking up. “At least a version of him that he never lived up to.”

“And how’s my version?”

“You’re getting there,” she said slyly. “But I already love this version more than I ever thought possible with anyone.” She kissed his bare chest, feeling the familiar sensation of his chest hairs tickling her slightly. “And about that spell nonsense. You recall who had to seduce who last year right?”

“Vem yeo viim,” he said in near perfect Riran. Dalinar suddenly felt two hands tightly grip his rear and then a slap.

“I’m just testing the springiness,” she explained in near perfect Riran.

The Bondmith scooped up his mischievous wife, while kissing her, and then laid her down on the adequately supportive bed. They settled on a side to side, face to face position so they could continue kissing and make it last longer.

One leg draped over his hip, while the other was underneath his waist. He adjusted Tension so that the bed was soft in that spot to take his weight off her. Timed to her movements, he pulled her hips into his with one hand, while the other braced her back and shoulders. They continued kissing- connecting their lips, their mouths, their tongues- breathing together as the sensations gradually crescendoed below.

Her toes curled, and she let out an audible whimper when she came, and she buried her face in his chest, gripping his neck and shoulders tightly. He paused and held her as it washed over her. And when he was done, they stayed connected for a while even as he softened.

She whispered to him, “Thank you for an amazing day.”

He slid out of her then pulled her over so she lay partially on top of him, her head to his chest.

“Perhaps we should fake our deaths and assume new identities. Enjoy days like this without burdens,” he said.

She smiled, sensing his happiness too, and sighed contently, while tracing her fingers over his chiseled torso.

“It’s best you don’t ask me to pray on it though. We might actually end up dead.”

‘What do you mean, gemheart?” he asked puzzled.

She sat up a bit to turn and speak to him, and said, “Oh, I was planning to take this to my grave, but I’d eventually reveal it all to you any way.”

“What is it?”

“I prayed for Gavilar’s death, the night he died. I painted the most beautiful glyphwards.”

Dalinar raised his eyebrows in surprise, which then turned to brows furrowed “What the fuck did he do?”

“He called me a whore.” Dalinar immediately shot up from the bed, holding his wife by her shoulders, looking at her as if he were checking her for injuries.

“What the fuck was wrong with him?”

“He was jealous of you and me.”

“But nothing ever happened.”

“Don’t you remember the rumors though?”

“What rumors?”

Navani caressed and stroked the side of his face to soothe him. “Dalinar, subtlety has never been your strong suit. You stared even back then. Sometimes I did too.”

“Shit, I was too drunk to know what in Damnation was happening around me,” he said shaking his head. “I’m sorry I was too useless back then to do anything about any of it.”

“That’s alright. The asshole is dead now, right? Besides, it wouldn’t have helped if I told you any of it.”

“I might’ve killed him. Especially if I was drunk and out of control.”

“Kill your own brother?” Navani frowned. “Dalinar, you’d never forgive yourself.”

“I was close once.”

Now Navani’s eyebrow was raised. She pursed her lips, then said, “The Thrill?”

“And you. I wanted you. And all that came with the throne.”

“Then it was after Gavilar and I were married?” she asked.

He nodded. “After Jasnah. Even after I agreed to marry Evi.”

Navani shook her head. “Good thing it didn’t come to that. I’d probably would have had you killed for it.”

“That would have been the Alethi way,” he said in agreement.

“Or Jasnah. She would have sworn vengeance. She’s always been her father’s daughter,” Navani said. “If she’s ever shown she was capable of loving anyone, it was certainly her father.”

“We all loved him in our own way. At one time.” He sighed and ran his fingers through her hair, then pulled her back to his chest as they laid back down together. “But what a fucking asshole! How could he say that?”

“I think he deserves some pity too though. Aside from being dead. I think he always knew I could never love him more than I’d love you. And he hated me for it. He hated not being the victor.”

“Maybe,” he grumbled.

Navani could still sense him seething as she slowly drifted to sleep. Eventually the Connection faded too. And Daliar inadvertently found another way to soothe himself as he slept.

 

---

 

Surrounded by broken rock and broken bodies on the battlefield, Dalinar ran towards a group of soliders wearing blue, Oathbringer gripped in his hand.

Before his brother could pull free his helm, he swung his Blade at his opponent’s armored head. Once. Twice. Three times. Passionspren—like tiny crystalline flakes—dropped around him.

Bondsmith! The Stormfather rumbled loudly. What are you doing?

Gavilar’s eyes burned from pale green to black, revealed through the large crack on his broken helm.

As his brother’s corpse crumpled to the ground, no shamespren appeared before him. The Bondsmith answered, “Giving someone something they deserve. Creating a different… a new memory.”

This is not what was intended---

“No,” Dalinar interrupted. “It’s not what you or even Honor would have wanted me to do. But I’m learning something different. It might be useful.”

The Stormfather rumbled again with displeasure.

You are not ready.

 “What a parent might say to a child. But sometimes the next step isn’t a step. It’s a leap. And I’m prepared to take that risk. To jump across, even if I end up with my feet dangling in the air, hands gripped to the stone.”

And you believe she is the one who can pull you up? A mere mortal? One who has broken oaths?

“You know our bond. You even sanctioned it,” the Bondsmith answered. “Who the fuck else can it be?”

The Stormfather rumbled, not in disagreement. But intrigued?

That night, the king and queen of Urithiru slept together on a lumpy bed that no longer held the Tension previously bestowed on it, grinning like the lovesick fools they were. Reunited and Connected again. Happy together.

Because happiness is also like the weather, some days are only a drizzle, other days are oppressively hot, then occasionally it’s a wonderful rainstorm. The kind that reminds you, you’re alive. The raindrops from above drumming onto your face then connecting to the ground below through you. Kicking up the puddles flooding across your feet. The rhythm of the rain, your own personal chorus.

But on Roshar, these storms always left, almost predictably, and always with absolute certainty.

The diamond spheres he had Adhered on the table earlier had also lost their magic. One rolled off, but it did not shatter, cushioned by the clothing they had discarded on the ground earlier. Though now dun, they can serve their purpose again, recharged by his or his spren’s powers whenever that time comes.

As it ought to.
With absolute certainty.

Notes:

Main goal/themes I wanted for this chapter.
A Big Fight
Addiction revisited
Ending up with riding on Gallant

Getting from A to C took a lot of detours and this chapter exploded... in length, the number of scenes and other themes explored. e.g. abusive relationship are complex.

Some of the scenes seemed too short and I'm sure an editor would have done something to remove a few of them, to give more depth to the others.

Chapter 9: Tonight, Specifically (E) (RoW)

Summary:

RoW Chapter 19
"If you’re going to leave me,” she said, “then you’d best treat me well in the days leading up to your departure. So I remember you fondly and know that you love me.”
....
“You have my heart always.”
“And tonight specifically?”
“And tonight,” he said, “specifically.” He leaned forward to kiss her, pulling her tight with those formidable arms of his. In this she encountered a fourth warmth to the night, more powerful than all the rest”

Navani felt more than just warmth that night. Specifically.

Notes:

BrandoSando left us hanging here. I imagined the rest of the night differently than likely intended.

On a sofa in their private chambers, Dalinar Kholin embraced his wife with his formidable arms, as she basked in his warmth. He kissed her deeply, urgently, eagerly. Leaving them both breathless. Desire stirred inside them like a storm, echoed by the passionspren chaotically floating around them.

With practiced hands, he removed a few hair pins from her head which allowed her hair to fall freely. She rarely wore intricate braids now. Too time-consuming, and time was increasingly scarce. They both combed through her hair to gently tease out the tangles.

He then lovingly caressed her cheek and ran his thumb across her lower lip as she let her tongue lightly graze it as it passed. He cupped her chin and took her mouth into his again. Without looking, he started to undo the buttons of her havah.

Eyes closed, savoring in the kiss, Navani reached over to unbutton his shirt, but found he had somehow already removed it himself. She ran her hands down his bare chest, the chest hairs tickling her as she did so. Then, she reached down to undo his belt.

Instead, his hands stopped her. He gently grasped them, and said to her softly, but sternly, “Don’t move.”

Her eyes opened and suddenly met his - piercing blue, intense, commanding. Navani stopped her movements, letting her limbs fall to the side, perfectly still. Her breath hastened, aroused as she was in surrendering herself to him. And then it briefly halted, as she felt him open the Connection, flooding his emotions into hers and bleeding them together.

During their initial sexual encounters, Dalinar had unconsciously opened a Connection, though neither of them realized what it was. His wife had made the actual connection, when she re-read his accounts of the Azir visit. She did not share this discovery with him until weeks later, after he had recovered from the trauma of his returned memories. He had blushed the deepest red, shamespren and shockspren swarming him- not an unreasonable reaction for an action some may consider a violation.

Using Connection to speak a language is a practical tool. But a connection to another mind and soul without asking?

It took innumerable reassurances from her that his actions were harmless and his affections had never been unwanted. Of course- - the incident where he “accidentally” read her secret journal gave room for doubt, but their relationship had healed. She trusted him to know when to ask and when to know when the time was right.

In the past year, Dalinar had learned to open their Connection intentionally, though its use was limited at first by requiring touch and now by proximity. Rather than open and close, Navani preferred to describe the phenomenem like music. Sometimes the volume was soft - a background noise - akin to a wind chime caught in a light breeze. Others times it was a thundering forte, commanding attention- like the call of war drums.

The Connection granted profound emotional and spiritual empathy. It allowed the couple to know if a touch was pleasurable or unwelcomed. Connection, in this state, did not grant telepathy. They could not predict what each other’s next actions would be, for where would the fun be in that?

Dalinar removed his belt and shifted closer to his wife. Through the fabric of her dress, he grabbed both of her breasts with his hands roughly, and she let out a soft pleasurable cry. He leered at her as he began kneading them with his massive hands. She breathed with him, sensing his arousal rising as much as her own.

When he abruptly stopped, she forced herself to lay still, wanting desperately to be touched by him again. But she was held by his command, his spell. Don’t move.

In her mind, she pictured her limbs weighed down, shackled to the sofa by an imaginary force, and only her husband held the key. As she waited, the red streamers of anticipationspren draped over her limbs as if threatening to tie her down if she should fail to restrain herself.

Dalinar began unfastening the remaining buttons of his wife’s havah. A few of them weren't being cooperative so he tugged firmly, sending them flying when their threading broke. Her top was now uncovered, exposing her chest, save for the parts hidden by an undergarment. Pressing his face in the curve of her neck, he kissed her, sucked on her, nibbled on her lightly, while shamelessly breathing in her scent. His cheek grazed her skin, the texture of his stubble rough like sandpaper, further awakening her sense.

She resisted the urge to move forward and kiss him. Lick him. Bite him back. But she was bound by his words. Don’t move.

And so she dug her fingers into the cushions instead.

Then, his hand, reached down below her skirt, the fingertips slipping under, tracing and retracing the inside of her shapely thighs, over and over. She shuddered as her skin turned to gooseflesh and her nipples hardened.

He whispered in her ear. “Just making sure, you remember me fondly.” He kissed her cheek. “For tonight.” He licked her neck. “Specifically,” he said. And the word felt cool against her wet neck. She could feel herself harden somewhere else.

She panted heavily, intoxicated by his voice, his presence, his dominance. Her heart raced and her chest heaved with wanting.  She held her breath as his fingers neared the spot in between her legs, towards the middle. It grazed her there lightly. One stroke. Fuck. Then, they circled up, and continued higher. She glared at him, and he responded with a smirk.

That same hand, from under her skirt, reached up, and pulled aside her undergarment, freeing a breast. His entire large arm was under that poor dress. Its seam lines stretched at the waist. Some of those threads failed. He might as well have ripped her clothes off.

His mouth immediately went to take in the exposed nipple. A pointed tongue flicking at it, and she loudly gasped. He continued suckling that breast, while his hand worked to release the other. They were still callused, despite his retreat from the battlefront, and she loved how their coarseness and shape reminded her of him. Without looking, she swore she would know his touch like a fingerprint.

Dailnar’s mouth switched to the other breast, now freed, while his fingers playfully pinched and rubbed the other, now wet, sensitive nipple. Navani moaned. Fuck fuck fuck. Her desire mounting feverishly. Don’t move.

She did not need feel his stiffness against her body. With the Connection she knew it was there. And it was pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

He suddenly stopped, forcing her eyes to open, and she let out a pleading whimper. He stood up, looming above her, the fabrial light casting a warm glow on his silhouette. Bare-chested and imposing, his eyes full of lust, he looked majestic -god-like- though his bulge undeniably spoke of his human desire.

He then leaned over and braced the top of the sofa with his hands. From above, voice heavy and low, he spoke his next command, “Say my name.”

Blood of my ancestors!

This man was pushing her to and from the brink with only foreplay. She was about to recover enough to answer his demand, when he leaned in again, even closer, so close she could feel the heat and moisture of his breath on her neck.

“Say my name.”

Navani was paralyzed, unable to move her lips –his first command still holding power over her. Her husband then gently put his hands under her chin, tilting it so she could see him clearly. He then took his dominant hand and raised his fingers to his mouth.

“Say it,” he said softly.

Her heart was beating so loud she could hear it in her ears. He then, inserted those thick fingers into his mouth, coating them generously with saliva.

And the second spell took hold. Say my name.

“Dalinar,” she croaked.

He smiled at her, teasingly, then kissed her chastely on the cheek.

“Try again.”  

Navani could not muster a respectable retort. She could not even count to five.

He knelt down on the floor in front of her.

She tried again. And said his name weakly, but more clearly. “Dalinar.”

He rolled up and arranged the skirt around her waist, out of the way.

“Better,” he said, then he grasped her thigh, gently kissing the skin on the inside. “But not quite.”

She let out a deep breath, to relieve the pressure building inside her. And said, more firmly, “Dalinar.”

“Good.” He removed her underwear, noting it was already wet.

And then - he slid one finger inside her. She cried aloud, reflexively sat up, cursing. He halted his movement, kissed her abdomen gently to calm her, until she was able to lay back.

Encircling her thigh with one arm, he held her in place, bracing her against his shoulder, as she raised up her other knee opening herself up to him. He began to move inside her slowly and deliberately, allowing her to build up again gradually. Curving his finger ever so slightly. Perfectly.

She breathed in slowly. Then without prompting, she said his name again and again.

“Dalinar. Dalinar.” Her voice increasingly urgent, pleading, as she continue repeating his name.

“Dalinar.” She resisted the urge to arch her back. But then, she felt the second finger enter.

“Dalinar!” She might have tossed him off but was stilled by his arm. His pace quickened, taking advantage of the dexterity and speed that only his digits could offer. Her breathing grew increasingly ragged. 

Say my name. “Dalinar.” He kissed, then licked the corner of her inner thigh, a warning of what was to come.

Say my name. “Dalinar?” She had no time to react, when he removed his fingers from inside her which now freed both arms to encircle each thigh, pinning her hips. He pushed down firmly.

Say my name. “Dalinar!” He plunged his mouth in her center.

A sudden surge– and her mind went blank. Time froze- the agony of wanting and the pleasure of satisfaction melting into another. Navani bit her lip, drawing blood in the process to stifle a cry, her nails digging further into the sofa. She involuntarily arched her back again and extended her toes. Her upper body writhed, but she couldn’t move her hips and thighs, held down and spread open as they were by her husband.

Dalinar continued to mount his attack, lightly licking then steadily pressing, gliding over and over. Her previous attempt to silence herself was in vain. The intensity of each sensation overwhelmed her. She cursed and cried out his name loudly, repeatedly. Good thing he dismissed the servants earlier.

He eventually let go of one leg and reintroduced a finger, repeatedly pushing and pressing inside her, while still using his tongue. Over and over - until he tasted the release flowing out of her. She finally breathed out, a satisfied moan escaping her lips. And collapsed onto the sofa, completely and utterly drained.

When her ears started to work again, Navani heard soft, slippery noises repeating in a rhythm. She slowly opened her eyes, but then they widened to alertness, when the scene revealed itself. Her husband, now completely stripped bare in front of her, stood upright, touching something else that was also upright. He stared at her with piercing blue eyes while pleasuring himself with the same hand that was just inside her a few moments ago.

His gaze was intense, as if trying to sear this image into his mind – his wife, sprawled out and exposed in all the right places, dripping with pleasure, thoroughly satisfied by him.

The Connection spoke to Navani, and she knew what she should do. He too would remember her fondly for tonight, specifically.

She licked her lips, tasting the blood from where she had just bitten herself. She then reached down with her safe hand, and began touching herself, following his rhythm. But this was not for her own pleasure.

Dalinar’s eyes narrowed. He started to whisper her name over and over, as if chanting. “Navani. Navani. Navani.” And licked his own lips, still wet with her taste.

With her freehand, she reached for her breast, pinching the hardened nipple. Groping herself. Dalinar’s hastened his movements, panting heavily. Finally, still touching herself, moaning aloud, not holding back, Navani lifted both legs, planting her feet on top of the sofa, revealing everything to him.

That tipped Dalinar over the edge. His breath hitched, he grunted and convulsed, spilling himself into the shirt which he had placed in his other hand. Lowering himself to the ground, he knelt before her. God might be dead, but there was another being Dalinar Kholin worshipped.

Her husband recovered quickly. Navani peered at him, unsure if the light in the heating fabrial didn’t perhaps look a bit dimmer. She started to sit up, but he motioned for her to stay.

“Wait here,” he said softly, his final command of the evening.

He then picked up his dirty clothes and tossed them in the basket, went to the basin to washup, and dressed himself in a takama.  After refreshing the basin with clean water, he dampened some towels, pulled out one of Navani’s shifts, then brought everything over to where she still lay.

Navani, drowsy without the power of Stormlight to restore her, waited for her husband to return. Dalinar helped her remove the rest of her clothing and readied her for bed. He used a damp towel to clean the cut on her lip and pat the sweat from her face and body, then dutifully put away the towels and dirty clothes. She mused how he moved with the precision of a trained solider, but with equal parts tenderness. The servants would have cleared everything, but this was their private world, and Dalinar did not expect his wife to pick up after them. A man of the Codes indeed.

Everything in order, he helped her into a shift, and then carried her in his strong, muscular arms over to their bed. She placed her hands on the back of his neck. Though their Connection had already faded, he knew what she wanted. Looking into her brilliant violet eyes, he gave her a gentle kiss good night. They huddled together in bed, sharing their warmth, enraptured and soothed by the other’s presence. Lulled to a restful sleep. It was a particularly good night.

Notes:

One of the reasons I started

RoW Chapter 101:
"“The paper inside was covered with his own bulky letter-lines, larger and thicker than was proper, drawn deliberately with his fat fingers.”

Dalinar's fingers are fat.. ie thick.

Not just smut- this chapter is meant to show her trust in D, letting him dominate her - vs how G dominated her. D takes the time with foreplay and gives her warnings. Saying his name is similar to what Navani did by biting his shoulder. He wants her to think of him instead of what G did.

There are purposeful parallels and reasons to how Gavilar/Navani had sex/the positions/type in Part I vs Dalinar/Navani in Part II.

Chapter 10: No More Scars - Towerlight (E) (RoW)

Summary:

Reunion (sex) at the end of ROW
That is Bondsmith Reunion sex

Notes:

Epigraph 10d countdown TBD

As Dalinar stepped out of the Oathgate from Azimir, he, like everyone else who walked into Urithiru that late afternoon, was absolutely captivated. The Tower glowed with an ethereal brilliance that greatly outshone the afternoon light. A layer of brilliant blue clouds spanned a considerable stretch of the sun-dabbled sky from the bursts of awespren which materialized in the air from all those who arrived.

More impressive than that miraculous view, was that warmth that seized the senses upon entering. Because Urithiru was stationed very high up in the mountains to allow storms to pass under it, it used to be storming cold all the time. Now a blessed heat permeated everywhere. And as you entered the city, it felt like walking into a home with a roaring hearth after a rainstorm. That gratifying toastiness when a hot drink is placed in cold hands.

By Kelek’s breath, Navani, you are incredible, he exulted silently, beaming with pride.

Navani could sense her husband arrive at the Oathgate through her Connection with the Sibling. It was not a vision, not without touching one of the garnet veins to amplify their connection. But she could feel his presence. She looked out from their balcony and saw him below. Though his features and silhouette weren’t discernible this far up the tower, it was in the way others moved around him and how he himself moved that did not fail her detection.

Dalinar turned to his soldiers and stood at parade rest. “Our reports indicate that there is still much work to be done to repair the destruction within the Tower. But that can wait until tomorrow. Return to your friends and families. We and Urithiru’s citizens have earned this respite. Glory to the Sibling and our new bondsmith, Queen Navani!” He dismissed them with a salute, including his guards. He needed time alone with his wife.

The king pivoted, and with his long legs, strode quickly to the Tower’s entrance to catch the closest lift he could find.  But what he encountered was a queue. A very long one that double over itself more than a few times. It was orderly enough, likely under his wife’s instructions. Returning citizens, refugees and even tourists had flooded into the city since the reopening of the Oathgates upon news of Urithiru’s restoration.

A friendly face approached him. “Hey Gancho, you want me to fly you up there? You and her Royal Brightness must have a lot to catch up on,” the Herdazian from Bridge Four asked- the one with the many cousins.

Dalinar considered the proposal briefly, but his body had been lashed around a multitude of times today, and it was best for him, as usual, to set an example. He could wait as others did. There were plenty of lifts operating, more than before, so it probably would only delay a few minutes.

“No. But I appreciate the offer and suggestion Radiant Lopen.”

“Not going to cut the line eh? Well, if you change your mind, I’m sure one of my cousins can offer assistance.”

Dalinar sighed, as he watched the Lopen zip off into the air, wishing his Bondsmithing skills could have more practical uses. But he at least was no longer the lone student. Navani was now a Bondsmith too. If Ishar won’t train him, perhaps they could stumble and progress together.

A wiry young man wearing a Bridge Four uniform walked over to Dalinar, who was still lost in his thoughts, and tapped the king on the shoulder. “Please follow me,” he said quietly. “Orders from the queen.”

Wasn’t he mute? Dalinar puzzled. What or who else has changed?

Dabbid walked him over to a wall with a diagonal garnet vein and motioned him to touch it. When he did, his heart lifted, awash with the relief of hearing her voice.

Dalinar, it’s me. Follow the blinking lights and press the ones you see when you get to a wall. It will lead you to a passageway and another way up. The lights will guide you. If you need me again, look for the garnet veins.

It was her voice. But different. The Sibling’s bond probably, he thought, as he hurried along, following their instructions.

-----

Navani released her hand from the tower wall, then addressed another matter.

“Sibling?” she asked, waiting for her spren’s response from within her mind.

Yes, Navani? they said.

“You are able to see everything that occurs in the Tower, correct?” she asked nervously.

I have an awareness, however it requires my Bondsmith to channel my concentration. Did you need assistance in locating the Stormfather’s Bondsmith again?

“No…I wanted to know- in the thousands of years you’ve existed, you must recall how humans…” She stumbled for the right words. ”How we express our love in private?”

I recall. My Bondsmiths have had relations.

Navani, now belatedly recognized, it wasn’t only their physical presence inside the Tower that would allow the Sibling to see everything, her bond alone to the Sibling was enough to give them direct access. She blushed as badly as she had on her first wedding night.

I won’t intrude. But a Connection will always remain once we are bonded.

“Thank you,” she said, feeling the rush of blood in her cheeks.

Then another realization emerged.

Stormfather!

Dalinar had been bonded to him throughout the entire time they had been married. She had always thought that the spren withdrew when not otherwise called on. But it was surely the same for them- that omnipresence- like someone always watching and listening out of direct view. And did Dalinar keep that a secret? Or more likely, failed to appreciate its impropriety? Surely, prudishness couldn’t be blamed for her uneasiness. Cursed man!

Perhaps it was better she had not known. It would have made her too self-conscious, as it was doing so now. And there wasn’t anything that could be done about it. Except no sex.

Impossible. So maybe it was better that he had never explained it.

The queen sighed and chided herself for her knack for overthinking. She then shook out her limbs, hoping to release the remainder of her anxiety.

As she thought more on it, she recalled that Dalinar had explained that it was beneficial for the Stormfather to observe positive human behavior. It could inspire a more favorable view of humans and encourage the spren to further aid them in the war. Instill more empathy. And so, what better way than showing them an act of love with someone you loved? And the Stormfather has had a prime front row seat over the past year.

Dalinar ran quickly through a passageway and took a fabrial lift that would eventually lead to a room near the top of the tower, where they usually held the monarch’s meeting.

He opened their Connection as he exited the hidden door and found his wife there waiting for him. He no longer needed to touch her to channel this power.

She was sitting on top of a tall cushion on the large map table- in an immodest dress, in a not so modest position - her hair loose and lips painted a blushing red.

“Took you long enough,” the new Bondsmith teased.

Dalinar threw off his jacket and sprinted to her. Except that his forearm fabrial was still attached over it, so he just held the entire jacket in his hand. She intercepted him with her arms and those open legs, naked thighs visible to her hips. The cushion helped boost her closer to his height. Grabbing him by the head with both hands, she pulled him in for a kiss, running her fingers through his greying hair.

She wrapped her legs around him, as he rid himself of what he could of his shirt as well, wanting to feel her against his own skin. The balled-up shirt and jacket settled against the small of her back. He held to her tightly, encircling her to minimize the space between their bodies. The top of her breasts over that low-cut dress pressed against his chest as they continued kissing. Lips and tongues anxiously greeting each other.

When they finally broke, they stayed there for a while, foreheads lightly pressed together, letting the moment last.

Navani pulled away first. “Dalinar, I want to hear the contest’s terms from you directly, as soon as possible, and I have so much more to tell you than what you’ve read in the reports.”

Dalinar frowned slightly. “Understood,” he replied, and he began to move away when his wife pulled him back.

“No, not yet.” She laughed. “I want you now. That’s why I’m prepared and in position. But let’s limit it to five minutes. I’ll set my fabrial.” She turned a dial on her armclock.

Dalinar eyes widened, and he laughed now too. “And they say Alethi men are terrible at romance. Our women are far far worse.” He hugged her tighter.

“Now you have less than five minutes.”

“And what would you do when time is up? Throw me off?” he teased, inching his face closer.

"It might be good practice for my Bondsmithing skills,” she answered.

“Actually, Adhesion would only accomplish the opposite,” he smirked.

“Seems like I’m going to need more than a few lessons.” She then raised an eyebrow as a question emerged. “Have you ever used that when we…”

Dalinar shook his head and grinned. “I’m not decrepit yet. My own muscles still work.” She saw it for herself, as he flexed his well-sculpted arm, the one that was free of the fabrial bundle. It was still as impressive as it was over thirty years ago. “I trust these more when doing delicate work.”

Five minutes is not going to be enough, she thought.

He looked to the door exit. “Wouldn’t our bedroom be more comfortable?” As he spoke, he worked on removing his fabrial clothing entanglement. “Do you need your lotions?” 

“Our rooms were ransacked. There’s nothing comfortable there we can lie on. I’ll explain it all to you later, but you’ll see for yourself soon enough.” No longer interested in conversation, Navani reached down and removed his belt, set loose his clothing, and began touching him, stroking gently to firmness. With the Connection, Dalinar could feel desire pulsing through her as much as himself.

“If you need me to back off, please tell me,” he insisted.

“I need you…” she said, kissing him in between words. “To start now.” She nibbled on his lower lip. “And finish---“ She looked to her armclock. “In four minutes.”

She moved to lay down, but then he held to her, hands on shoulders. With his right hand, he cautiously pushed away the sleeve of her gown to reveal her upper arm. The scar from her injury at the Battle of Thaylen Field had disappeared, but he remembered its place and drew his thumb across it. His eyes then moved over to inspect the rest of her- and he imagined the location of another wound, one that might have been fatal. Another time he had failed to protect her.

With the Connection, she understood what he was feeling, and looking into his stony blue eyes only confirmed it. She let the top of her gown fall off her shoulders, and pressed her bare chest to him firmly - so that nothing else separated them. She kissed his face again and again tenderly, hoping to release the tension from his body.

Brows knit, he finally said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you sooner.”

She looked up and caressed his face with her slender, soft fingers, and said, “You carry the burdens of the world on your shoulders. Do not put me up there as well.”

He let out a sigh, then spoke again softly. “There were reports that you were wounded. Your dress covered in blood. And yet you still ran around the Tower, yelling out orders, demanding reports, creating order out of chaos, telling everyone what they should and should not do,” he chuckled lightly, but she saw tears cresting from the corners of his eyes.

She nodded, looking back at him fondly. “But I’m perfectly well now. Even better than before.”

“I can’t lose you.” His steel-like voice unusually frail, but it still reverberated warmly into her chest. Into her heart.

“You won’t.” And his tears finally fell.

“What would I do if you were gone?”

She pulled back to wipe those tears, and then looked into his eyes and gently said, “Live on, protect our family, our people, the world. And keep me fondly in your memories.” She held his head in both her hands again and pressed their foreheads together.

A voice echoed in the back of Navani’s mind. Life is unfair. So, you must seize what you can and enjoy it while it lasts. Gavilar was right, at least about that.

The fabrial chimed. Navani, rather annoyed, pulled it off her wrist roughly, then tossed it across the table.

Dalinar shook off some of his melancholy. “Did I ruin your plans?”

“Mmmm… rather. Let’s call them modified. We can adapt. Journey before destination or some such?” He laughed softly with her.

Her husband then asked a question, already knowing her answer, but he thought he should ask anyway. “Did you still want to…?”

“Is that ever a question? With you?”

He kissed her again, holding onto her more tightly than ever. It felt like their first kiss over a year ago - as if he were clinging onto a stone in the stormwinds, thinking he would die if he should let her go.

Before she laid down, Navani moved her skirt out of the way to show him something else that would lift his spirits. She wasn’t wearing any undergarments, but that wasn’t it. What she showed him was the location of another scar that had now disappeared too.

“Look,” she said to him.

Dalinar stared quietly at his wife’s now pristine, perfectly tanned abdomen. He traced his fingers from her belly button down to her pubic bone- then placed his entire palm over her lower abdomen, rubbing it gently.

“No scar,” he said with a smile.

She nodded back with her own smile and whispered to him cheerily, “No more scars.”  

Dalinar Kholin beheld his incredibly beautiful, incredibly brilliant, and now Radiant wife for a spell to admire her. He ran his fingers through her greying hair and repeated back, “No more scars.”

—

He could hear the Stormfather half-rumbling, half-murmuring some words in the back of his mind, but Dalinar Kholin’s attention was focused on someone else. If it was something important, surely his spren would speak to him again.

Navani removed her dress, then raised her knees up. Her husband spat into his hand, wetting his erection before he entered her, but before he could do so, she lifted one of her legs high enough to touch his face with her foot. It was a rather comfortable stretch, more than she anticipated. Was she always this flexible?

Her husband stopped his motions, curious. Then turned his head, and grasped that mischievous foot, licking its arch and sucking on her painted toes. While she giggled, the other foot found its way to the other side of his head.

Perhaps becoming a Bondsmith with the power of Tension – to manipulate rigidity- restored her youthful flexibility?

Both her legs now rested comfortably over her husband’s chest and shoulders, and he placed one muscular arm across them to hold them in place. Their eyes locked for a moment, signaling their readiness. and he wet his fingers again before finally guiding himself into her.

And then Dalinar Kholin, King of Urithiru, a man well into his middle years, the leader of the most powerful and united coalition in the history of Roshar, a Bondsmith, nearly lost it.

He grunted loudly and shuddered as the wave crashed into him faster than lightning- as if his entire body had been electrified leaving aftershocks in its wake. As he fell forward in that moment of mindlessness, both hands landed with a loud thump on the table, which thankfully kept him upright. He was about to apologize for narrowly crushing his wife and suddenly coming, when he realized his cock was still hard- still throbbing with extreme pleasure now fully inside his wife- and he hadn’t yet ejaculated.

At the same time he also noted the flushed expression on his wife’s face. The same one he recognized whenever she climaxed. And how close he was to her lovely face. Her legs were bent far back, nearly touching the table.

He was about to move away, when she grabbed him by the neck and shoulder and pulled him even closer. Even deeper. They moaned in sync together.

“Fuck. What- what was that?” he finally asked breathlessly.

His wife still couldn’t speak, and simply shook her head with eyes shut tight, as she breathed through her own release. He stroked her hair gently, and kissed her face tenderly, waiting for her to recompose herself.

Then she opened her eyes, meeting his. And they both said at the same time.

“Your eyes are glowing.”

Was this how it was when Radiants had sex? When they were both powered by Stormlight?

Despite her own extensive research -and those of other scholars- into Radiants, sexual practices were not considered appropriate subjects for investigation. Blame it on the conservative influence of Vorinism. It also seemed a private matter, lacking any relevance to advancing the war. Asking would only seem voyeuristic.

But it wasn’t exactly a secret either. More than a few Radiants boasted about their sexual adventures- and even more than a handful of romance novelists had imagined some very interesting scenarios.

Abrasion was a particularly common surge power for the lead protagonist- typically an Edgedancer with healing powers. Followed by Gravitation for the lead’s love interest- usually a Windrunner, the order best known for their heroic acts, setting up Skybreakers as the rival. Wild and rough, but pleasantly lubricated sex on the ceiling or in the air. Who wouldn’t want that? As long as you knew who you were fucking. A deceptive, but misunderstood, Lightweaver took their usual place as the main villain.

Dalinar noted a soft glow emanating from both their bodies even though he had not taken in any from the spheres in his pouch. It had a green-blue color, different than the bright blue of Stormlight. Might this be Towerlight?  The hybrid light that he had read about in his wife’s reports. It was different than the surge of raw power from Stormlight, which made one feel near invincible. There was something much more soothing about this combined light.

Bondsmith, the Stormfather rumbled in the back of Dalinar’s mind. You failed to heed my warning. When two who have the power of spiritual Connection have relations, the results are always intense. Two minds, souls and bodies crashing head on to become one.

“I still don’t think that knowledge would have prepared us for what just happened,” the Stormfather’s Bondsmith argued.

Navani, who had fully recovered, waited for her husband to return his attention to her. Arms folded across her naked breasts, she let both legs dangle over the side of the table in resignation, annoyed by the stillness of husband’s erect penis inside her.

“Arguing with your spren - again?” she asked dryly. Though the Stormfather was speaking to Dalinar exclusively, she could feel the reverberations of the spren’s voice echoing into her.

“Almost done, gemheart,” he assured her.

The Stormfather continued, But the Sibling’s Bondsmith has never had a relation with either Bondsmith. This is strange. I am curious to see how it manifests.

“Then don’t interrupt us,” Dalinar chided. “Recede. Retreat. Go outside and pull up a tree from the ground.” And the grumbling-rumbling sounds dissipated.

Dalinar turned to his wife, who looked at him with pursed lips and narrowed eyes that were glowing a brilliant light violet color.

“Sorry about that. He had tried to warn us that we might experience something unusual,” he explained.

“Unusual?”

“He used the word ‘intense.’”

“For an entity obsessed with words, I find that word choice lacking.”

“Absolutely,” Dalinar said in agreement. He then considered. “Did the Sibling speak to you too?”

“I’d already asked them to give us privacy before you even arrived,” she said. “I’d rather not invite a spren, even a lofty one, to watch us fuck.”

“Oh,” Dalinar answered. Then with a delayed realization, he stammered, “Gemheart, I.. that’s not how it really is.”

She shook her head. “Let’s stop arguing please. We’ve barely started. And you’ve already made me wait.”

Navani repositioned her legs to the sides of his torso and bent her knees back. Now that all her organs were back, she wanted to take him as deeply as possible. Sex had felt different after her surgery – painful at times- though she hid it. She was going to take full advantage of her newfound Radiant status- and make sure her husband did too.

“Are you sure? I could barely control myself just now- maybe we should try something else.”

“Dalinar, I’m a Radiant - there’s no need to restrain yourself.” She tapped his shoulder twice. “Go get your dining knife. We can run a test.”

“Not if you’re going to stab youself in the gut.” Navani eyed him back knowingly. “For the record, I healed my other wounds first before trying that,” he argued.

“Fine,” his wife sighed. Then she put her own arm in her mouth and bit herself really hard, leaving a deep imprint that did not bleed.

“What are you —” her husband yelled, as he pulled her arm back to inspect it. The wound vanished quickly.

“See?” she said triumphantly. “But fuck, that hurt.” She took her arm back and rubbed the spot where the memory of the pain lingered. “If I ever bite you too hard, you need to let me know.”

“You could do it harder, but it’s not good for your teeth.”

“You’re worried about my teeth health?” Navani asked incredulously. “Dalinar Kholin you’ve clearly been holding us back because of my older and more frail non Radiant body. Respectfully, I’m asking you to now fuck me as hard as you can.”

“Gemheart, I don’t want to cause you any pain. It’s not –

She rolled her eyes with a groan. “Then switch places with me. I’ll be on top.” And the Sibling’s Bondsmith started to rise from the table.

“Wait, I have an idea,” her husband said, stopping her motions. He reached out across the table for her armclock. “Wear this and reverse the setting of the painrial. Use it on me if you need to stop me.”

“A compromise. I like it. And here I thought I was supposed to be the smart one,” his wife said as she sat up to fasten her armclock back onto her wrist. “I guess I’m just the horny one now,” she said with sly smile.

“Besides,” she continued. “Our Connection should clue you in on what I like and don’t like,” she said as she repeatedly pinched and rubbed one of her husband’s nipples with her soft fingers. “The same way I know you like this.” She then extended her tongue, licking him from the base of his neck, curving over his chin, teasing at his lips, before pushing into his mouth for a kiss.

“And this.”

Then, Dalinar Kholin, a man haunted by a past in which he lived in constant fear of losing control, freed himself from those restraints, confident that his wife could pull him back. Unbeknownst to him, her painrial hadn’t absorbed enough emotion to have any effect in the reverse. But Navani was willing to take the risk. The possibility of her own pain. Her confidence was placed in their Connection. That it would be strong enough to overcome any obstacle.

Her husband pulled out of her, earning him a very puzzled and very disappointed look from her.

“Dalinar, wait, I take it back—"

“Gemheart, don’t worry, I’ll return soon, but you’re not nearly wet enough for what you’re asking for,” he said as he crouched down in front of her, holding her thighs apart with his large hands. “Could you watch me?” he asked as he licked his lips. “I’d appreciate the encouragement.”

Propping herself on the table with elbows to the sides, she was about to laugh off his last statement, having already given up counting how many times he’d made her come without penetration.

But then she met his eyes. Glowing a brilliant light blue. Staring at her full of lust. And suddenly she felt his tongue before seeing it- the soft pink flesh rising slowly from her center, glistening wet, activating her most sensitive nerves- in a pinpoint tease. She hummed with pleasure. One thick finger rested idly inside her, testing her readiness.

On the second pass she could see him slowly circling his head- tongue out of sight, circling in tandem at her clit with a steady pressure. A deliberate sensual cycle, interrupted by slurps and lapping passes. She rocked her hips against his movements, relishing in his skills.

Switching from elbows to hands on the table, she sat up to enjoy the view. Her husband’s face between her thighs, nose buried in her crotch. One hand reached over to caress the back of his head. She stroked his scalp as he continued to stroke her. She could feel herself cresting upwards, like a sine wave set on a positive slope. An ascending mathematical vibrato. Her breath hitching to that same beat.

She then grasped his head firmly, as she neared the edge, pressing her upper lips together to contain herself, though her guttural moans were audible.

So close…

Suddenly, he kissed her little nub of pleasure once and surged up, letting her legs slide from the back of his shoulders over to his chest. He held them against one arm, back again in the position they had first started. And then, he entered her in one slick full motion.

Another wave hit them, though they were more prepared. White sparks still flickered in their vision, but Dalinar did not fall and Navani quickly let the Tension in her body dissipate. When she opened her eyes to meet her husband’s they both finally understood what this was and wasn’t.  This was not the climax. This was only the first plateau, and they were still achingly far from the top.

He thrusted into her again, and Navani could see the flesh of her legs jiggle and feel her breasts jostle forcefully. She had slid slightly backwards, so she gripped the edge of the table with both hands, scooted forward and used Adhesion to brace for the next impact- which sent the entire large table sailing a few inches away.

Dalinar growled in annoyance. “Fucking table,” her murmured under breath.

He pulled the cushion out from under his wife’s hips, so he could angle from above instead and guided himself back in. Letting go of her legs, one hand switched to a luscious breast, squeezing hard enough to bruise, and he Adhered his other palm onto the table over her to steady it.

Fingers entangled in his short greying hair, Navani roughly pulled him down for a hungry kiss, their delicate wet tongues sliding and battling for entry into the other’s mouth. She bit his lip, drawing blood for a fraction of a second which she sucked eagerly before it healed. And he tasted his own blood as she continued kissing him.

“Now grab my other tit. Just as hard,” she ordered when her breath was restored. She gasped sharply as he did, and at the same time he started driving into her again. Each thrust speared into her regrown cervix, sending her body into shaking spasms. Navani thought with irritation how much more enjoyable sex could have been this past year. She then thought how grateful she should be to walk normally after this.

Grunting, panting, humming, moaning- a sexual chorus accompanied the Radiant couple as they accelerated into the next plateau. No lesser spren appeared before them – as if they didn’t dare disrupt the lovemaking of the two god-like beings.

She needed him closer though. As did he. And without words exchanged, she locked her ankles around him, grabbing him by the shoulders, while he gripped her by the waist under one arm to lift her and mount the table.

But while the other one had been too short- now this four-legged centerpiece, grand enough for a map of the world, was not quite long enough for him. His feet had no holds, so he anchored his knees on its surface for leverage. A hand that once welcomed violence and brutality, now tenderly braced the back of his wife’s neck, strong fingers lightly gliding across her silky dark hair.

He pressed his mouth into hers, kissing her once. Then twice, before resting his upper body on top of her, the way she liked. The heat and scent from his sweat-slick body flooded her senses- but it was still not enough. She gripped one hand over her wrist and pulled him closer.

Her mouth was now well positioned at his shoulder, so she went to work. Biting hard enough to make him bleed and her own teeth hurt. But she kissed and sucked away the blood and pain.

“Fuck,” he said breathily.

The throbbing of his cock jumped up an amplitude. And if he hadn’t been Radiant, he definitely would have come.

Amplitude? he thought. His wife’s scientific jargons must be seeping into his mind through their Connection. Like osmo--

And she bit him again. He swore he heard her giggle too, but it was hard to tell between his second curse and the wet smacking sounds between them. She was practically begging to be spanked for her naughtiness. And Navani vividly envisioned his large hand slapping her rear. Its sting, resonating vibrations into another sensitive spot.

They sprinted into the next plateau.

Usually, he would roll his hips, grinding on top of her to stimulate her to orgasm- but she wanted to be fucked hard. And he was fucking doing it. Because he fucking loved her.

So forget Edgedancer and Windrunner sex from those smutty novels. What about two Bondsmiths hot by any standard, middle-aged or not, who are insanely horny for each other with the power of Tension and spiritual Adhesion? Calling it simply “intense” was a fucking joke.

He hooked both her knees under his arms, opening her hips for deeper penetration. Every inch of his long, thick, and hard cock filled her wet, hot vagina, french kissing her cervix. He continued slamming from above in an exacting rhythm better than any metronome. And his wife fell into time, clenching around him, flexing her muscles tightly along every fucking millimeter of his length with each withdrawal.

Breathing ceased to matter- the light powered and healed them at the same time. They ignored the creaking protests of the wood table under them, and leapt onto the next plateau, as sure as if they’d worn Plate and hurled themselves up from below.

Dalinar then lifted himself over her, arching his back to admire her face again. Their eyes met. Glowing blue and violet orbs -Nomon and Salas- two celestial bodies drawn together by science and magic. But the Radiants’ eyes reflected more than just passion and lust – they shone brilliantly with Love and Connection. Their tender kisses a stark contrast to the pounding forces below.

The summit was now in view.

Lips locked, the king picked up his queen again in his formidable arms to switch their positions.  The leather bracer of her armclock had just scraped across his back, when suddenly his equilibrium spun, and they both fell to the ground, though the old soldier managed to roll so he’d bear the brunt of the impact.

When his breath returned to him, he said while laughing, “What the fuck?”

The Bondsmiths held to each other, their tan skin shimmering with beads of sweat. The cold stone ground was not unwelcome under Dalinar’s back, but even as heated as he was he much preferred his wife’s warmth, as she laid atop him.

A broken wooden table leg laid a short distance on the ground from them. They were also no longer connected. No longer glowing.

Looking down to check on his fellow Radiant, Dalinar saw silver-minnow spren darting around her too - and felt the sensation of her laughter tickling into his chest.

She tilted her head up to speak to him, then said with a snicker, “The table has informed us that out time is up.”

”What’s with our shitty luck with tables?” he said with a sigh.

“I think they disagreed with the temporary purpose we gave them,” his clever wife answered, as she lounged over his chest.

“I suppose it’s not too early to teach you how to reunite things,” he said. He then paused for a moment, running his fingers over his wife’s long hair and wiping the sweat from her brow at the same time. “Were you using Adhesion just now?” he asked.

She nodded. “Impressed?”

“Very.”

“It’s to be expected since I’ve been studying you very closely this past year,” she said as she raised herself above him and scooted closer to his face.

She found her discarded dress nearby and stretched over to retrieve it. Then proceeded to wipe off the sweat from his face with it. And kissed his nose. Her husband mindlessly stroked her thighs with his fingertips as she continued speaking.

“Similarly, I’ve noticed how very straight your nose is now. Straighter than ever since I’ve known you.” Her eyes trailed down to his chest. “And I can barely see your scars anymore.” Her husband continued lightly scratching her voluptuous thighs.

“Dalinar?” she said.

“Hmm?”

The Sibling’s Bondsmith then twisted her husband’s nipple hard, snapping him to her attention.

“Ow!” he yelped as his gaze moved up to meet her eyes.

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said,” she said with folded arms. “You’ve been too busy staring at my chest.”

“I’m sorry gemheart, but I’ve barely had any time with them. I was about to move you into position before we crashed.”

She unfolded her arms and hovered above him, letting her breasts dangle over his face. “Dalinar Kholin, out of uniform, you’re nothing but a dirty old man lusting after big tits.”

“You know me too well, gemheart.” Then he sat up, planting his unbroken nose in between her breasts, inhaling deeply before licking and lightly biting both mounds in turn.

She grabbed his greying head with two hands and pushed his face even deeper, smothering him for a few moments in her ample breasts, before pulling his head away, promptly winning their combined laughter.

“What were we supposed to be talking about again?” he asked, gazing happily at his wife.

“Only the details of a contest to determine the fate of the world,” she said, while examining his face again. Perfect symmetry, like a marble statue. But lined with age. With burdens. His mortal eyes no longer glowing but staring back at her contently. “Maybe it can wait.” 

She then kissed his soft lips and stroked the rough edges of his face with her fingers.

“Did you have something else in mind?”

“Some food of course,” she said. “We need to keep these muscles of yours in tip top shape.” And she squeezed his impressive biceps. “But there’s one more thing we can do before that.” 

The Sibling’s Bondsmith used her dress as a makeshift towel to dry herself, then handed it to her husband. “You can use this too.”  She then got up and went over to put on her shoes. And only her shoes.

Dalinar dabbed his body with the borrowed garment, then tried to hand it back to his wife, but then she said, “Oh, I won’t need that back until later. Go get your boots on too. These passageway floors haven’t been cleaned in a millenia or two. We don’t want to trail in any muck.”

“So no clothes. Just shoes,” he checked with amusement.

“It’s more efficient that way,” she half-explained. “Don’t be so prudish dearest. It’s just me and you.” She paused for effect. “And our spren.”

Then Navani walked to the wall and touched a garnet vein, reConnecting her to the Sibling and renewing her Towerlight.

“Could you pick up my cushion along with your clothes?” she asked as she looked to where it had fallen next to the broken table leg. “We wouldn’t want to leave any evidence behind.”

A bundle of clothes under his arm and a cushion held to that hand, the king followed his wife into a dark secret passageway, lit by wall scones, energized by the Towerlight emanating from her body as she walked by.

They took another hidden fabrial lift, and then he smelled it first before hearing it or seeing it. The unmistakable scent of sulfur, just enough to make one curious.

“According to my spren, you’ll get used to it,” she assured him as they walked on.

Then, the pleasant sounds of trickling water, followed by warm mists wafting from a dimly lit entrance. Moonlight streamed through a large crack in the cavern’s roof, though the sky was not visible. They must be near the other side of the mountain onto which Urithiru was built. Otherwise, one of the Windrunners would have spotted its location when they scouted the Tower. A natural hot springs had found its way through the rock, perfectly suited for the cold climate.

“The Sibling also assured me the water is safe,” his wife informed him as she dipped a toe into the pool of steaming water. “If not…well…you know.”

She held his hand for support to carefully walk down the stony steps that must have been crafted by a Stoneward. “We’ll eventually reopen it to the public,” she continued. “Though we will need to create a wall to divide the genders. Previous generations apparently weren’t as …particular.”

As her husband entered and made his way to her, his large frame displaced the water, sending a few strong waves rippling towards her. But she didn’t need to use Adhesion to maintain her balance, her husband was there to steady her. They connected again, not in a magical sense, not in a carnal one either. Just two humans enjoying a moment of peace together, surrounded and wrapped in the natural splendors of the planet. An earthy, calming warmth.

Eventually, they spoke about the contest that evening. The little time they could spare allowed few breaks from work. From duty.

And so it was, for the next ten days that they interwove their happiness into their busy schedules. Lunch with their grandson. An afternoon ride on his horse. A light kiss or a hug ceased to bother them in public. They fixed the map table together, impressing the monarchs with how quickly Navani had learned. With her newly gained knowledge of all of Urithiru’s secret passages and rooms, they found more time during the day to love and connect. And they finally completed the rest of the positions from the Passions, the ones with only two persons.

But Navani would always find it difficult to look back on these ten days with any fondness. Emptiness always struck her, a pain worse than a slap across the face or a knife in the gut. Because after that tenth day, she would have no new memories with him for a time period not measured in days. It would be multiplied by years.

Because when a piece of the soul gets ripped out of you, the edges never heal up quite right, even when stitched together by the most skilled surgeon.

Those scars will always be visible. They never seem to fade.

Notes:

The original draft was very different, much shorter- and faded to normal sex. This version makes much more sense to me.
But I didn't want it too "smutty" not that there's anything wrong with that- it's just not thematically what this fic is.
The word "pussy" is always cringey to me- so I chose "vagina" which is medical-ish- but I prefer that to a "core" or any other euphemism.

Chapter 11: Another Oath - Part 1 of 5

Summary:

The Immediate Aftermath of the Contest

Dalinar Kholin is dead. But there's more at stake than one man's life.

Notes:

Secondary Characters finally get the spotlight
Jasnah, Renarin/ Rlain, Adolin / Shallan

Contemplative chapter- next one should have more action.

The last thing she remembered was seeing his body falling forward. It would have been worse if he had turned, and she had met his eyes. That was when their Connection broke, and her heart along with it.

“Mother!” Jasnah called out as she caught the older woman who had fallen to her knees. Ashen pale, eyes closed, diaphoretic, the Sibling’s Bondsmith could not speak. Navani simply clutched her hand to her chest. That and her tears explained it all.

Then the Tower went dark.

Jasnah lowered herself to brace the ailing woman. “I need a healer!” she yelled. “Where’s Lift?” She encircled her arm around her mother’s back, preparing to carry her if needed.

“Your Highness!” Sigzil, the new leader of the Windrunners shouted as he flew to her. “The Fused have gathered. We need to engage them in battle and defend the Tower!”

The Queen of Alethkar, trembled as she looked down at her mother who struggled for breath. She loosened the top buttons of Navani’s havah, but that failed to do anything. Using a handkerchief, she wiped away the grey-haired woman’s sweat and tears, though none of her own fell.

Before the contest, they had considered the possibility of failure. Though Odium swore to end the war whether he lost or won, the god admitted he could not control many of his Fused, most had already gone mad. And he certainly would not be able control any other individual who opposed the collation of their own free will.

There was a plan to defend the Tower. No stratagem is complete without contingencies. But they were still brutally unprepared for this outcome. Unprepared for how much they would all suffer today.

Jasnah turned to the Companylord and said, “Get two of your men to escort the Queen back to her rooms and find Radiants to heal her. Our priority must be to restore the Tower’s protections.”

That is what is most logical.

“I will join you in battle,” she added.

Dressed for combat, Jasnah’s jet-black hair was unadorned by no jewel or crown. Instead, it was woven into braids and simply pulled back out of the way. A military outfit with combat boots in place of traditional havah attire offered improved mobility and accessible pockets for practicality. No cape. Unnecessary and illogical. Her uniform jacket bore the same stylized Kholin crest of her brother- Sword and Crown - the symbol of their kingdom.

Now. Decisively. Former Kingdom. Althekar was lost, along with her uncle’s life.

In less than a decade- a father, a brother, an uncle. All dead.

But the most brilliant woman on Roshar was no match for a god, even with the advice of her ageless semi-omniscient lover.

All her life, Jasnah had tried so hard to protect her family. Her paranoia was not unfounded. Every single one of them had a target on their back. Including the ones still alive. The heavy price of rulership. Was it worth the power? The legacy? The honor? Will it ever be worth any of it?

The Windrunners came, and she left her mother to their care.

Without looking back, Jasnah walked up to the edge of Urithiru’s rooftop. And summoned her Plate made of logicspren. Soon after, a Blade fell into her waiting gauntlet.

Ready? she asked. 

Yes, the inkspren answered. But didn’t we agree that this was less effective than our other powers?

I t is, Ivory.

Holding her blade in one hand, Jasnah placed the other, her safehand, palm out in front of her.

And so we must use every power.

Recalling her mother’s blueprints, Navani’s once little machine ordered her logicspren to follow the schematics and unlock the last calculations. Then, a wood lattice appeared, unfolding itself clockwise as each segment materialized. The massive structure encircled the top tiers of the Tower, locked in at key points to a metal frame already anchored into the stone.

All that we have.

Pitch and oil rained down from the air, coating the surface of the barrier. The Elsecaller dropped a few pouches of drained spheres from her belt, hoping those remaining would be enough for the remainder of the battle.

To save her.

Then, the former Princess of Alethkar, Soulcast a flick of fire and set the world around her ablaze.  With two hands, she gripped her sword before the massive fiery shield.

Armed with Blade, Radiant powers, and her own brilliance, Jasnah Kholin, every bit her mother’s daughter, waited for the enemies to arrive. She could not fail again.

And I swear I’ll kill anyone who tries to harm her.

---

Renarin struggled as he dragged his father’s large body down the stairs from the trapdoor entrance of the roof. Becoming Radiant didn’t increase your physical strength, but Stormlight would at least provide him the endurance to push on. The young man tried his best not to cringe from the sounds of his father’s boots hitting loudly against each step, as they descended.

Dalinar had called his son’s unique Surgebinding powers a blessing because it interfered with Odium’s ability to predict the future – at least for Renarin himself and those around him. And so, the Truthwatcher and his corrupted spren had been tasked to stay close to his father. They were thus fated to be closest to the body when he died.

Radiants and soldiers fought with the enemy above, as father and son made it to down the last few steps. Then the young man’s hands slipped, and he fell backwards. But the sound of his own fall failed to mask the loud clunk his father’s skull made as it hit the ground.

What’s wrong with me? Renarin thought again as he desperately pushed down the twisting nausea boiling inside him. He was the Blackthorn’s son. He should be strong, powerful and commanding. Even his mother was at least tall. Becoming Radiant had healed his fits and his vision. But he was still too small. Too weak. Socially unfit and difficult for others to understand. Why couldn’t he have been born normal?

Drenched in sweat and tears, he eventually laid his father’s upper body against a pillar in a room nearby the fabrial lifts. They could move him somewhere safer to another floor once they restored the Tower’s functions.

He touched the back of his father’s greyed head to assess for a bump though it was a meaningless task. He was dead. There was no pain. No soul inside to heal. And no swelling. Thank you, Father, he thought feebly. A small gift, sparing him the embarrassment of explaining the slip. Another failure. One of many today.

His spren had manifested outside of him as a crystal, bathing a soft red glow in the otherwise dark room. But as the singular source of light, the corrupted mistspren also cast shadows.

This is not what we saw, Glys said, glimmering hauntingly as he spoke. I’m sorry, Renarin. You have my sorrow.

The Truthwatcher grasped his father’s hand, attempting to use a physical connection to summon another vision. Stormlight shone brightly around their hands, but nothing happened. The normally quiet man wanted to scream, but those muscles would be too weak as well.

“Why, Glys?” Renarin asked in a frail voice. “Why did it have to be wrong this time?”

We cannot know what will be. We can only know what is possible.  

In that stained glass panel of his vision, his father had appeared as a Knight in white Shardplate. Victorious. Human and alive. He was supposed to live.

Bowing his head in shame, the Radiant whispered sharply, “Then our powers are a curse. Deceiving us with false hopes.”

His brother, the perfect Alethi officer, worthy of the Blackthorn’s legacy would have grieved later. But Renarin was not the one “born unto light.” No. His name meant that he was “born unto himself.” And so, he let the darkness he possessed fill him with pain.

Kneeling before the man he has idolized his entire life, the Alethi prince, clung to his father for the last time and sobbed with abandon. It was futile for him to continue playing the pretend warrior. His spren glided down and gently rested on the grieving man’s shoulder. A warm sensation emanated from the points of his crystalline structure.

After his tears dried up, Dalinar’s son sat on the ground next to his father’s corpse. His entire body trembled in the aftershock of overwhelming emotions. Helpless, hopeless and alone, he was unsure of what to do next. Then, from the shadows, another light emerged, washing away some of the darkness.

“Renarin,” Rlain said softly, with his spren Tumi, glowing by his side. “I’m so sorry.”  Despite taking warform, the listener’s deep voice was soothing as he hummed to the Rhythm of Comfort. ”But it’s too dangerous to stay here, we need to get you to safety.”

Renarin shook his head. “I won’t abandon him.”

“We won’t,” Rlain said to Resolve. “But he wanted you protected.” Tumi pulsed to the strength of his Radiant’s words. “We need you, my friend. More than ever, with the contest lost, to end the war and rebuild Roshar.”

Eyes downcast, Renarin responded, “My powers only mattered when Odium was the enemy. Now that he’s sworn to stay away out of our conflict, I’m useless.”

Rlain then knelt beside his Bridge Four comrade, and there they met each other’s gaze. To any other human, the orange-red skullplate would have been intimidating, terrifying even. But Renarin’s attention always lingered elsewhere when looking at his friend. The large dark pools of the listener’s eyes reflected his own image back to him. They were always kind and thoughtful, in whatever form he took.                                                               

“Dearest friend,” Rlain said to Confidence before switching to Appreciation. “How badly you are mistaken. You are much more than your Radiant powers. The way you think about things. The way you see things. It’s different from everyone else.” And in the shared darkness, Renarin’s pupils were large enough that Rlain could also see his own reflection in his friend’s eyes.

“But different isn’t the same as good or better,” Renarin contended.

“Not always, but it can be, and we will not survive clinging to the old ways,” Rlain said to Consideration. ”Your father understood that. We need new and different perspectives.” He hummed to Praise. “That’s what you offer the most, Renarin. You’re special with or without Radiant powers. There is no one else like you.”

The lighteyed prince felt a flush across his cheeks as he listened. No one aside from his own family has ever spoken about him like this. But there was more to this blush than what either his father or brother could draw out of him. Something else stirred inside him.

“Singers and humans must learn to co-exist, “Rlain continued in Determination. “Your father asked me to represent my people, though truthfully, I still find it hard to trust humans.” He smiled at the young man affectionately. “But you are the exception. I’d like to work alongside you. So please…dearest friend. Let me take you to safety.”

Yet despite the love Rlain had just revealed to him, Renarin still could not free himself from the last remnants of his despair. The twisted faces of agonyspren continued to fade in and out around his lower body.

“I can’t leave my father here unprotected,” he explained. ”Someone might try to take his body.” The youth’s face then contorted painfully as another possibility flashed before him. “Or do something worse.”

Because only a generation ago, that of his father’s, Alethi victors mounted their enemies’ heads on spears - sending a message to the conquered. If given the opportunity, some might feel compelled to return the favor.

And Rlain was all too familiar with that same fear- the desecration of the dead. He hummed briefly to Lost. His own fellow bridgemen had harvested the bones and carapace of his people to use as armor. As a spy hiding in dullform, he was helpless to stop them. But now with his dearest friend, who had sent Tumi to him and helped him finally become Radiant, he was no longer helpless. No longer compelled to hide.

“We will keep him safe too. We can place a vision over the body,” he said with Resolve.

“But our powers are different,” Renarin said.  “We can’t conjure visible illusions.”

He turned to his father’s face. With his eyes closed and muscles relaxed, the lifeless face appeared serene. But the hand that he still held onto was stone cold. Nearby the sounds of shouting and the clashing of metal grew louder.

“No, but we might be able to show the future. When the body is no longer there.” Rlain said with conviction, in a manner distinctly human. “Our visions are only invisible to others when we choose to hide them. We can do this, Renarin. You and I with our spren. Together.”

We should try, Glys chimed in agreement. I believe in us. It will work!

Renarin now looked into the warm, kind eyes of his good friend, and cast out his remaining despair. His father was gone, but there was another who knew what it was like to be like him.

Hope filtered back into the Blackthorn’s son.

“Can you help me move him to the corner?” he asked.

Rlain nodded, attuning to his friend’s rhythm.

Together, they carefully lifted the body and laid it down into the far corner of the room, behind a set of chairs and a table. Renarin then took out an infused sphere and placed it into his father’s large hand.

He summoned a vision and a single stained-glass panel appeared. The body disappeared behind it. But a blackness around the frame was still visible.

“We can make it larger and hide the edges into the ceiling, floor and walls,” Rlain proposed. The listener then held out his own hand, waiting for his friend to accept it. In warform, they were large, with long fingers, sharp nails, and a back protected by orange armor.

Cautiously, Renarin placed his hand over that red-black marbled palm. When he closed his fingers around it, he felt the rough carapace on his fingertips.

Warm. Strong. Different.

Perfect.

He gripped tightly, and Rlain squeezed back. Stormlight shone in their hands and the vision grew. The blackness was no longer visible.

Letting go of his friend’s hand for a moment, he stepped behind the image, and knelt before his father once again.

“Good-bye, Father. I promise to return,” Renarin whispered. “Thank you for understanding me.” He then took off his Bridge Four uniform jacket and lay it over his father’s face. If the vision should falter, it might help conceal him.

Dalinar Kholin traded his soul for the possibility of a peaceful world. And so, together, with his listener partner by his side, the son would secure his father’s legacy and transform that possibility into reality. But not as a pretend soldier.

Whatever you are, son, it’s a blessing. You might be a different kind of Radiant, but you’re Radiant all the same. You shouldn’t feel you need to hide your abilities or your spren.

And that was his father’s last and greatest gift to him. The courage to be his true self.

Renarin took Rlain’s hand again, and the couple and their spren fled into the depths of the Tower seeking safety.  Little did they understand, how much more danger was still hidden inside. Waiting to reveal itself, in the right light.

---

I can’t do this. Adolin Kholin thought, surrounded by military leaders and foreign dignitaries in the room that served as their command center.

I don’t want this…

But the Blackthorn’s other son was a soldier. Not a Radiant, but nevertheless, the embodiment of the perfect Alethi officer. And he quickly banished those thoughts and set his feelings aside, as he was trained to do.

Decorum. Discipline. Dedication.

Duty.

No longer simply a general in the Kholin army, the highprince of Kholinar now took his father’s place at its head. Succeeding him yet again, as was expected of him his entire life.

Kalami sat by a desk ready to read aloud the spanreed report. But none was needed to know that the contest was lost. It was obvious something was wrong.

Heads turned to the walls and ceiling when the lights dimmed. And the sudden evaporation of the Tower’s warmth sent a palpable chill throughout the room.

From within the cold and the dark, they heard the sound of metal grind against stone as the wood structure manifested, its weight pulling down on the bolts of the frame. And then they smelled smoke.

“With the fire shield in place, our people should be able to safely escape from the rooftop,” Adolin reminded everyone. “And the half-shard shields have already been deployed at every balcony opening, window and entrance along the rest of the tower.”

It was otherwise deemed too impractical to expend resources on producing half-shard shields for the entire Tower. The top tiers would be evacuated anyway, so they could focus their defense on the lower floors. And so, the fire shield was devised as a temporary solution to stall the enemy’s advance from above. Once it fell, the top of the Tower would be exposed, leaving Windrunners to deal primarily with the Heavenly Ones and Skybreakers.

“’Queen Navani suddenly fell ill.’,” Kalami read aloud from the report. “’If anyone has seen Lift, have her report to the queen’s rooms immediately.’”

Ill? From the shock? But his aunt had already experienced death more than most- another husband’s death, both her children’s. Surely, she’d pull through quickly as she always had. She’s always been so strong.

Something was amiss.

“But without the Tower’s protections, the Fused can use their powers!” a panicked Azish diplomat yelled, interrupting Adolin’s thoughts.

Coalition members had sent representatives to Urithiru for the contest, while their monarchs remained safe in their respective homes. No sense in tempting fate by assembling the world’s leaders in one location for the enemy to capture or slaughter. Yet the enormous disparity between the qualities ruler and a follower were even more obvious in times of crisis.

“And our Radiants and armies will fight them off until my aunt is healed,” Adolin answered with conviction. “As long as the central pillar remains secure, we will not be defeated. And we have made all the necessary preparations to ensure those protections do not fail.”

With all its sapphire nodes restored, the Sibling could engage its shield against threats within the pillar’s proximity. Navani’s engineers had also scavenged enough aluminum to line the underground tunnels to prevent another breach. The makay-im Fused who could phase through objects would be the most likely to find a way in. So Stonewards guarded the rooms and floors surrounding the heart of the Tower, ready to fight them in a battle for Stone mastery.

Ultimately, whether they won or lost the contest, they were required to play a defensive strategy to guard the city against an onslaught of enemies. Ensuring the fewest points of entry was critical, but that also left few routes for escape. The Oathgates were once again vital for the latter. And the majority of the forces were stationed close to the ground and in this area of Urithiru.

Adolin looked to his wife, or rather, he expected to see a version of her, Brightness Radiant. But he found Shallan as herself. She walked towards him and put her hand on the small of his back, a reserved gesture for them, considering their general disregard for Alethi opinion on public displays of affection. The profound responsibility Adolin inherited was not loss to either of them. It called for a show of strength. He was wearing Plate, but could still feel her touch, as if only a single layer of fabric separated them.

Embrace later. Grieve later. Feel later.

The Highprincess of Kholinar addressed the audience beside the new Commander of the Kholin army. “My husband taught me that one of the rules in warfare is to plan every battle as if you will inevitably retreat, but fight every battle like there is no backing down.” She didn’t need to turn to him to confirm her husband’s approving smile. “We’ve fortified our forces around the Oathgates in the event of a retreat, but we must not let fear weaken our resolve.”

Adolin nodded. “Peace is now within our grasp. My father made sure of that. Odium no longer fights this war. We only now need to stop the renegades who disobey him.”

“But the Fused are immortal, they will return!” the same Azish diplomat exclaimed.

“Not immediately. We have time before their resurrections and have been working on a means to destroy them permanently,” Adolin explained.

His aunt’s discovery of anti-voidlight was known, but it’s use was limited without the Raysium materials needed to create more daggers. And Navani had entrusted that very weapon to Adolin himself.

“Let’s not become distracted with the worries of the future,” the Commander continued. “Focus on what we need to do here today.” Uncrossing his arms, Adolin extended his arm and grasped his wife’s hand without gauntlets. He had yet to out them on. “You are all here today because someone deemed you worthy. Prove it to them. Prove it to yourselves. Go forth and carry out your orders. Fight to win. But more so, fight to live. Do not be reckless. If we live to fight another day, we will never be defeated. You all have our utmost confidence.”

The Blackthorn’s son did not expect the cheers and sounds of applause from across the room. And despite his efforts to become his own person, Adolin was becoming more and more like his father. A rousing speech before an audience. His titles. And now his.. scowls?

After the meeting adjourned and everyone dispersed, Adolin’s thoughts wandered back to his aunt and the loss of the Tower’s defenses. Troubled, he turned to his wife with furrowed brow, as she stepped forward to finally embrace him. No one took offense. Shallan had quickly grown accustomed to a Plated hug. It helped that Adolin’s mastery of Plate imparted him the skills to apply the perfect amount of pressure. The son once again like his father. For few would ever desire or dare to hug anyone while in Plate.

It was at that time that Kalami approached the royal couple with the full spanreed report in hand. The orange-eye widow handed it to Shallan as they broke their embrace. Kalami subtly shook her head and smiled at them weakly. A smile meant to convey sorrow. She returned to her spanreed station and sat down. And despite looking increasingly frail since her husband’s death, she held her shoulders back, head up high in a perfect posture to convey strength and resilience, the embodiment of the perfect Alethi military wife still alive within her.

However, Shallan, a country light-eyes from Jah Keved, was not Alethi. Not trained to stow away her emotions. Tears welled in her eyes as she scanned the words. Her husband, illiterate as most Alethi men were, waited anxiously for her to read him the message. She took a deep breath to steady her voice.

“No one can heal her,” she explained. “Edgedancer and Truthwatchers have tried. They’ve nearly run out of Stormlight. But Navani hasn’t regained consciousness.”

“Lift hasn’t tried yet though, right?” Adolin pressed. “Her powers are different. They might work.”

“No one can find her,” Shallan said. “It’s now suspected she’s been captured.”

“And whoever has her must still be trapped in the Tower. We made it as difficult to escape as it is to enter,“ Adolin said firmly. “We need to continue looking for her.”

The Commander then set his jaw. He could feel it building within him again. Another seething knot. It wasn’t simply anger. Added to it, frustration, grief and pain. No longer anger. It was fury.

Shallan could sense the change in him. She saw it in his eyes. Not long ago, under the idyllic gaze of starspren, he had opened up to her about Dalinar’s impossible expectations of his elder son. Compounded by the fact that Adolin had actually been successful in playing that perfect soldier nearly his entire life.

But Shallan knew him for who he truly was. Perfectly imperfect – coincidentally reflected in his wonderfully messy speckled blond hair. Too friendly among strangers, his men, and of course women. Too obssessed about fashion, horses, swords and duels. She loved him for all of that. For how could anyone love a cold statue, no matter how noble and pristine they appeared?

She placed her hands on his in solidarity, and said, “And we’ll do just that. Find her together and save your aunt.”

Storms, Adolin thought as he held back his fury, for now. How lucky he was to have the love of this woman, after blundering courtship after courtship. In an arranged marriage no less, set by his cousin and aunt. If anyone should ever try to harm her…

“Adolin,” Shallan said, snapping her husband out of his tumultuous thoughts. “There is one more thing you should know.”

“What is it?” he asked, confused.

“Renarin addressed you in the message directly.“

Adolin’s heart skipped. Whatever it was, it was unlikely to be anything good.

“What did he say?”

“He wrote, ’Brother, please report to the central pillar soon,’” Shallan read. “’If Aunt Navani dies, we need you to bond with the Sibling.’”

And so even in death, his father might succeed yet again. Adolin would become Radiant, as Dalinar had hoped.

But, fuck, that didn’t bother the Blackthorn’s elder son anymore. Those expectations.

His father was gone. More than anything, by Kelek, Jezerezeh, and Heralds alike, Adolin loved his father. How awful it was that he had recently thought how difficult it could be to live around the man. What he would do now to have him back. In death, they would never be able to fully mend. He had been annoyed by his father's attempts to guide him- it felt too controlling. He was no longer a little boy. And today, he became an orphan. No longer anyone's little boy. Except...

Before the contest, Dalinar’s elder son swore to protect their family in his place. And that meant ensuring that Dalinar’s wife, his beloved aunt, lived, by any means necessary.

Notes:

Originally was not going to write much about the contest. Too hard/daunting.
Whatever I'd write could not compare to Brandosando's version-easier to just say they lost, and move on (And I still can't guess how the contest is actually lost.)

But grief is an important theme of this work- so it should be covered (vs short flashback). And I thought mostly to write about Navani's perspective only- which didn't make sense.

And so this chapter has been taking a long time - to figure out who is doing what and how they'd try to defend the Tower.
I have an outline for the whole thing- but wanted to start posting before I lose steam. Should be 3 parts total. Hopefully don't have to backtrack and edit Part I.
It's a bit like putting a circle peg into a square hole. I hope the circle is small enough to still fit! Anyhow, better to put it out there and give my clumsy attempt a go! I need to get on with the next part of the series- Part III!

Chapter 12: Another Oath - Part 2 of 5

Summary:

The Sibling's Bondsmith is on the verge of death.
Can she be saved? Is there any hope left?

“The mortality rate approaches 100% at this stage,” Lirin said frankly. Alethi surgeons are always taught to never give false hope. “No patient has been reported to survive after losing consciousness,” he added.

Lirin had not known the queen well, but she had led the team that built the vessel which rescued his hometown and had of course recently saved all of them from the Fused invasion. She had his respect.

Surgeons cannot let themselves care too much, he reminded himself again. Detachment kept their focus on the operation - the damaged body part- rather than the person. It made them better surgeons.

Renarin listened solemnly to Kaladin’s father with his head in his hands. Radiants including himself had failed to heal his aunt, and they eventually sent for medical experts. Magic had failed, and so they placed their hopes on science.

They were lucky in that the fabrial lifts were working, though they only went up. Probably a failsafe to protect the lower floors which housed the crystal pillar. It at least ensured that Kaladin’s father arrived quickly. Of course, he had not hesitated to volunteer to assess the queen in her rooms near the top of the tower. But it meant leaving the safety of the well-guarded lower floors. And he did it not because she the queen of the tower, but because she was a patient. Every life was priceless.    

It didn’t take long for him to diagnose her condition.

• Patient: Middle-aged female
• Symptoms: Acute onset dyspnea with chest discomfort
• Signs: Low blood pressure, thready pulse, wet lungs
• Trigger: Severe emotional stress

Diagnosis: Broken heart syndrome

The few cases Lirin had treated personally were also older woman. A widow who lost her home in a particularly bad highstorm. A grandmother who had lost her only grandchild. One of them recovered, though she spent the remainder of her life pushed around in a wheelchair. The heart only partly mended. Too weak to sustain routine activities.

“How long does she have?” Renarin asked in a frail voice.

“Hours perhaps,” Lirin said. ”The worse case is that she could linger for a few days.”

Worse case? Worse than death?

He looked at his dying aunt. The color had drained from her expressionless face. Each uneven breath was accompanied by a rattling sound from her chest. He forced himself to touch her hand. It was cold and clammy, but he squeezed it anyway. There was no response.

Aunt Navani was always vivacious and strong. Someone who could light up a room with her presence- and it wasn’t only his father who thought so. So full of life less than an hour ago. How thin that line was between life and death.

Worse than her body’s stillness, were the spren that crawled around her. Silently biting teeth moving in unison like a swarm- anguishpren in such abundance it masked the color of her dress.

With their Bondsmith mortally ill, the Sibling had entered a sleep state again. Rlain stood vigilantly against a wall, hand on a garnet vein, hoping and waiting for the spren to reawaken.

Lirin sat down in a chair next to the youth and recalled the last of the surgeon’s three guidelines.

A surgeon must know when someone is beyond their ability to help.

“Brightlord…” he said softly. “There are ways we could ease her suffering,”

Renarin continued listening without meeting the surgeon’s eyes. The latter spoke a truth he did not want to hear.

“If you are suggesting dazewater, it doesn’t work on her,” the nephew said.

“Because she carries the violet eyes trait,” Lirin deduced. Most surgeons were aware of the higher probability of failed anesthesia among violet eyes. If it hadn’t been taught to them directly- one would never forget the look in their patient’s purple-colored eyes – and the screaming- after that first unfortunate cut.

Renarin nodded. He had heard about it from Jasnah, though not in a direct conversation. Little Renarin -always in the background- always observing and listening. He was so very good at recalling details everyone else soon forgot. So very good at understanding, while he himself was too often misunderstood.

“Bloodletting would be a possible method,” the young prince then added. “And she’d pass away quickly.”

Lirin looked back to the young man, surprised. He had not expected him to propose that option before he would.

“That’s correct,” the surgeon said. “You seem knowledgeable about medicine, son.”

Renarin shook his head. “No. But I know that’s what we do to animals.”

From what Syl had informed them and what they had learned over the past year, when a Radiant died their spren retreated back to Shadesmar and the duration of their incapacitation was in direct relation to the strength of their Nahel bond.

Navani had only bonded the Sibling for ten days, so if she died, it was likely a new bond could be forged quickly with someone else, the Tower then restored and the Fused repelled.

The sooner she passed, the sooner the battle could end. The sooner the killing could stop.

But his aunt was no storming animal.

The young prince had taken the initial step and asked his brother to be prepared. There was no doubt in his mind that Adolin was worthy. The Sibling intensely distrusted humans for the way they treated spren - capturing and enslaving lesser ones in fabrials. So who better to gain the Sibling’s trust than someone who had been able to form a unique connection with a Deadeye? A true spren cursed by abandoned oaths, who by all rights should hate humans the most.

Renarin squeezed his aunt’s hand tighter.

A vision of an older woman with greyed hair and violet eyes briefly appeared before him. Smiling.

Life before death.

“It’s not time yet,” the Truthwatcher said, now looking directly at the surgeon. “Lift is somewhere in this Tower. There’s still hope.”

Hope. Lirin pondered. Hope is always irrational. But recently, the intensely stubborn man had learned to bend his beliefs.

Absently, he touched his forehead which not long ago  was painted with a particular glyph.

“You’re right, son,” he admitted. “Miracles occur more often when Radiants are involved.” He then put his medical bag on his lap, and reached inside, pulling out a small bottle. “But science can still help in another way. This poultice won’t cure her, but it will help dry the lungs. And can ease her breathing a little.”

He stood up and moved over to the bed, next to the queen. “I will need to uncover the top of her chest to administer it,” he explained. As a veteran surgeon, Lirin felt no embarrassment in touching or seeing sensitive areas of any gender. But what unnerved him in the next moment was seeing his own hand enveloped by the dense layer of anguishspren as he applied the medication. In all his years, he had never seen so many in one place.

Renarin turned his head away to give his aunt privacy. And as he did so, he saw Rlain approach.

“The Sibling is awake,” the listener said in the Rhythm of Tension. The Alethi prince stood up to continue the conversation, and his close friend placed both hands gently on the shorter man’s shoulders. “They’re speaking, but not answering.”

“What are they saying?” Renarin asked.

“’Make them stop,’” Rlain said to Pain. “’Please… They’re killing us.’”

---

Kaladin spit blood out of his mouth as he continued lashing himself repeatedly up and forward, towards the burning Tower. The rapid ascent and sudden changes in air pressure had burst his eardrums – and though that healed immediately with Stormlight, the blood had remained. The Windrunner could feel his hearing return- the sounds of the wind blowing fiercely against him.

Damnation.

He needed all his senses, everything. Anything that could give him an advantage. Next to him Syl streaked across the sky as a bright ribbon of light.

Szeth followed closely. The two Radiants had been making their way back from Shinovar without the aid of the Oathgates, which had been locked down.

Moments ago, when Kal had just emerged from the last layer of thick clouds leading to Urithiru, He felt it. Something ripping from inside of him. A Connection breaking. At the same time, he heard Syl scream.

Abruptly, his lashing gave out, but Szeth caught him as he fell in the sky.

After he had recovered, Syl, who had remained a glowing round blue light, flew frantically toward him.

“Syl, what’s happened?“ Kaladin asked, as he restored his lashings to keep himself in mid-air.

“My father…” she said with haltingly through tears, though none were visible. “Is dead.”

----

Over and over. Lyn had practiced. Kaladin, her former beau, had ingrained that lesson into her. Or tried to.

“Until you speak the Third Ideal, your spren won’t form a Shardblade and become any weapon of your choosing,” he had told them. “So first and foremost, you must master a weapon. I prefer the longspear because it gives you the best reach and balances both offensive and defensive maneuvers.”

And perhaps that’s why workplace relationships, especially with a superior, should be better scrutinized. Lyn, for all her eagerness, had not mastered anything before she swore the Third Ideal.

If he had treated her like any of his other soldiers, he would have insisted that she continued practicing with one weapon. Sword, spear, axe or hammer. Any- until it was mastered. But she was also better suited to remain a scout than play the soldier. So, Lyn now simply picked whatever weapon worked best for the situation and was at least mediocre at all of them.

But boy did she know how to fly. It was what first drew her to join their order in the first place. That and because more than anything she wanted to help. And now the enemies had arrived.

It was her turn.

The Heavenly One before her was a femalen in dark red robes with a long train. Her long sharp spear glinted yellow-red before the flames of the Tower behind Lyn.

There was no salute.

And that should’ve been a warning that something wasn’t right. She should have fled.

Nearby, Skar fought with another Heavenly One. The more experienced Radiant lashed himself a few paces back so he’d be closer to the young woman and aid her if needed. His Fused chased after with a blade, but the well-trained Radiant expertly parried with his Shardspear.

Meanwhile Lyn circled around her opponent in the air, waiting for an opening, but at the same time mentally preparing herself for a quick successive lashing to escape if needed. Generally, Radiants were faster than Heavenly Ones, especially expert flyers like Lyn.

Suddenly, the femalen charged forward – the blood-red ribbons of her clothing fluttering wildly behind her- spear held for an underarm thrust.

Lyn blocked and dodged the attack, and then the next one, moving back just enough to keep distance from the counterattack.

And then the Fused, suddenly flew up.

Unsure of herself, the Radiant did not give chase at first. But she was not going to win by defending.

So, she soared upwards, her Shardspear pointed towards the sky- right at the center of her target- hoping that the advantage of her speed could land a hit.

And she was fast enough. She gripped Pakaa tightly as she neared.

Pakaa, her spren, usually kept quiet during battle, so Lyn could concentrate. Like her, he favored flying over fighting, and often took the shape of fantastical winged animals rather than a humanoid form. A Rhyshadium with wings? Why not?

Abruptly, her enemy stopped in mid-air, and then darted forward, allowing the strike to pierce precisely into the right side of her chest- away from her gemheart. Long white-red marbled fingers with blackened nails encircled and gripped the Radiant’s weapon – her spren.

In a contest of raw strength the Fused had the irrefutable advantage.

With a deep Alethi accent, the Heavenly One said to Derision, “I’m impressed, little bird. You are very fast.” She smiled - the corners of her large black eyes lifting upwards though tears trailed down her face from the pain of the injury. “But today I must clip your wings.”

Hnanan then dropped the spear from her other hand. While it fell in the air, she pulled out a golden dagger from her belt. The gemstone on its pommel shone with a blue light that warped the air around it.

In that moment, right before the Ancient Singer pressed the edge of the Raysium weapon against her Shardpsear, Lyn desperately shouted at Pakaa to change form. Flee. But something was wrong.

I can’t. I’m so sorry.

And with a bright explosive flash, suddenly, Pakaa’s essence was gone.

The Windrunner’s hands burned as part of her soul ripped away. She plummeted from the sky. No longer able to fly. No longer Radiant.

Laughing to Satisfaction, Hnanan sheathed her still glowing dagger back onto her belt, then healed her wound with internal Voidlight.  She danced. Swerving back and forth – the ribbons from her red robe floating up, then cascading down, billowing magnificently in the air around her.

“Death!” she said, gleefully. “Death to the traitors!”

----

Every ten minutes, they stopped.

The highprince’s armclock chimed and Shallan found a place to set the spanreed down, waiting for Rlain’s team to message first.

Communication was the greatest problem in their current mission- to find Lift in a Tower over a hundred stories tall. But once she was found, the ascending and descending teams could coordinate their movements and box in whoever had kidnapped her. Radiant spren, who traveled at much quicker speeds, served as scouts within teams.

They were required to stop because artifabrians had yet to discover how to make spanreeds function properly when in movement. Artifabrians like his aunt. This community of engineers had advanced the science greatly in the past few years. Painrials, armclocks, Shardbows and half-shards. They even built a frickin’ airship.

Without the distractions of war, how much more could they achieve?

She must live, he thought.

No one else was better suited to bond with the Tower, which was essential a working marvel of thousands and thousands of fabrials. Aunt Navani had learned to control them all instantly. A queen for more than half her life, no one was better tasked to negotiate a compromise with the mistrustful Sibling. And no one would be better at uniting intellectuals to research and recreate ancient fabrials that would not require the use of lesser spren.

Scientist. Politician. Bondsmith.

Adolin was none of those things.

And he wasn’t just going to wait around some pillar and let his aunt die.

He felt it again- that seething knot. Burning rage. His mother was dead. His father, now dead.

No more. No one else.

He searched the walls of the room for a garnet vein. If the Sibling continued to recover, they could use it to speak to the other team. Much more efficient than writing, the illiterate man thought. Or the spren might be able communicate normally again.

When they had first scouted the Tower, Adolin had only casually noted the strata within its walls. But his wife had immediately figured out how to interpret their different colors and navigate the tower without a map. A very useful skill, which she then taught him.

He recalled her drawings of those patterns- alternating layers of varied hues and widths. She had captured them all so beautifully in her sketchbooks. Adolin had never had a strong interest in the visual arts. But his wife was a master artist, and he loved watching her draw. He sincerely was an awe of all her work. Even the weird abstract ones. Those probably even more so, because they were as unique as she was.

Perhaps it was yet one more way he was like his father, who understood more about fabrials than one would expect of a military man. That knowledge had helped him capture the Thrill, and win a decisive battle, that, if lost, would have sealed the fate of the world. All because Dalinar cared enough to listen to his wife’s passions with genuine interest. Because he loved his wife. At least his second wife…

Shallan read the spanreed message aloud.

“Currently at Floor 70. No one spotted.”

Adolin’s team was only on the 15^th floor because the lower tier floors were much larger and more time-consuming to search. It would be easy to remain hidden in one of the dozens and dozens of rooms, waiting it out, until an opportunity presented for an escape. They had to be thorough.

He was about to release his gauntleted hand from the wall when--

Wait…I found her... The Edgedancer you are looking for. Alive, but captured by the enemy, the Sibling said weakly.

“How many enemies? What floor?” Adolin asked as he looked to the wall again. Shallan started to walk over to him.

Only one... Thirtieth floor. They are moving fast.

“Stairwell?”

Yes. I will light the way. Please hurry!

“We will,” Adolin said. He removed his hand from the wall, then turned to his wife, who now stood next to him. “Shallan, send a message to Rlain’s team. Let them know that the kidnapper is already on the 30^th floor and rapidly descending. Order the rest of our team to stand guard at all stairwells at the 20th floor.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going alone?” she asked.

“No, but this is a hostage situation. Too many of us might overwhelm the kidnapper and push them to drastic measures. It places Lift at greater risk.”

A gemstone in the wall began to flash frantically, the Sibling’s signal that they wanted to speak again. Adolin had wanted to ask more questions as well.

Another cardinal rule of warfare- know your enemy. And they had no understanding of their intentions, let alone who they were, though the general had an idea of what they could be. Shallan touched her hand to the garnet vein and joined them.

“Yes, Sibling? What did you want to tell us?”

“The enemy… is only one. But very dangerous.”

“Dustbringer?”

That fit the profile best. It could not have been a Fused, who wouldn’t be able to use their voidlight powers in the Tower. Abrasion would allow a Dustbringer to travel fast. And… Division. With Division they could wreak havoc to any object… or person. The Order had never earned the trust of the coalition, especially under the leadership of Tarvangian.

Do not let them near you.

“Understood.”

And General.

“Yes?”

Mayalaran asks that you be careful.

“You can hear her?”

A faint Connection…Her words are few…  ‘Stay safe. Don’t lose.’

“I will.”

As soon as Adolin let go of the wall, he felt a weight across his neck pulling him down. Then a kiss through his helm. He was quite a bit taller than his wife, especially with a slight boost from Shardplate.

Shallan went down from tip toes but kept her hands over her husband’s armored neck.

“You heard your sword. ‘Stay safe’ first. I’ll follow you as soon as I make sure the messages are delivered.”

Adolin lifted the faceplate from his helm, and leaned back down and gave his wife a proper kiss.

“And I won’t lose.”

He broke their embrace and called the name of the four other soldiers and Radiants that would join him. Then, he searched the ground for the blinking light that would guide them.

Shallan sighed, thinking to herself, this is what she should expect as an Alethi wife of a highprince. Her husband, constantly running off to face danger. Maybe things would be different once they had peace.

But what would a military man do then? She smiled, knowing her husband was much more than that.

She wasn’t a Truthwatcher like her brother-in-law, but Shallan envisioned it briefly. A cozy life in  a house with its own garden. Children with multi-colored hair dressed in their father’s original designs.

Little knife… a voice whispered in her mind.

Shallan’s hair suddenly shimmered to blonde, and Radiant emerged.

No peace. Not yet. It was now time to fight.

---

 

Killing was easy- at least in a practical sense.

Of course, Soulcasting came naturally to the former Princess of Alethkar.

Bending matter to her will. Dominance.

As a child, Jasnah had watched her father- and mother- conquer and subjugate their enemies. But she also learned that defeating the opposition was only the beginning. Politics and negotiation were necessary tools to maintain dynasties.

Words would always be more powerful than the sword to unite the formerly divided.

That and a vigorous dose of paranoia. Enemies from within in particular – the most dangerous kind- needed to be discovered and culled routinely. Much like a plant needs to be pruned to remove the diseased parts before they spread.

The Elsecaller was now practiced enough to convince air to become nearly anything she wanted. Air was most in abundance. It encompassed everything around them, but it liked being free. Few were able to command it. Jasnah had mastered it.

A Fused dove down from the sky towards her as she stood in Plate on top of the roof of Urithiru.

Suddenly a leather bag appeared around their head.

The technique was impossible before she swore the Fourth Ideal. Her logicspren were needed to quickly calculate the dimensions for each target’s head. It needed to fit enough to seal around the neck and be difficult to remove.

But Jasnah wasn’t a monster.

Gas molecules transformed to a different pair. A simple subtraction of invisible particles not designed to support life. At least not on Roshar.

Asphyxiation. Quick and painless.

She could have just as easily plastered the bag onto their face like a mask leaving no room for air. Instead, the victim was rendered unconscious within seconds of breathing in the inert gas, especially quick given the accelerated metabolic demands of a fight using Surgepowers.

Not enough time to act, except if…

The fifth fatality saw how their comrades fell and took in a breath.

While fumbling for a dagger to cut open the trap, Jasnah stabbed him with Ivory through his gemheart as she had done with the other fallen Fused before they could heal themselves with Voidlight.

A merciful quick death. But only temporary.

A group of Skybreakers formed up in the sky nearby.

Where are all the Windrunners?

Jasnah, previously too occupied with her own opponents, looked in the air around her. So few of her comrades were fighting in the air. What happened?

The four enemy Radiants charged at her. Too many to kill at once. The odds were against her.

She needed to escape.

Now.

Shadesmar? Ivory asked.

No.

It would take too long to return. She needed to be here for the final outcome of the battle. And to know what happened to her…

She took in a deep breath, then let it out.

And suddenly she was falling at the same time she screamed in pain.

Jasnah landed on the floor of the empty amphitheater with a thud.

She abhorred using Transportation to travel within the physical realm.

Unlike Soulcasting which was so easy for her, this Surge was not only difficult to master. It was really fucking painful.

Ideally you would directly visualize the location you’d reform your body. Air was much easier and much less painful to displace than solid matter. It still hurt badly, given how rapidly the materialization occurred. As if your entire body was being whipped from the inside by thousands of knife-like strands of wind.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck that hurt.

Ivory emerged next to her in his obsidian suit with the long coat. He knelt down next to her as if to help her up- but that was impossible. Except as a Shardblade, Radiant Spren are severely limited in their ability to transfer force to objects in the Physical Realm.

Jasnah, he said. We need to hurry. The inkspren shrunk down his size and climbed over to the collar of her uniform jacket.

Jasnah put her hand to her forehead to hold back a headache, and slowly stood up from the ground.

“What’s happened, Ivory?” she asked while brushing the dirt from her outfit.

“The Sibling wants to return to sleep again.”

“You can hear them?” 

“Yes. They are broadcasting their voice to the Radiant Spren in the Tower. As a warning.”

A warning? she puzzled. So many questions.

“Why do they want to sleep?” she asked first.

“Because they are too weak and in pain. They are reaching their limit to endure it,” Ivory explained. “They plan to end their bond while they are still capable of it.“ 

And kill my mother in the process. Jasnah understood that without explanation.

“And what else will happen if they succeed? Why present this as a warning?” she asked next.

“Another millennia of slumber. Abandoning the Tower’s residents again. They do not want to forge a new bond. They want to wait until the next Desolation.”

“Fool. There is no next. Not without the Oathpact restored.”

Not without her uncle, the only Bondsmith capable of renewing one, alive.

“No indeed, Jasnah.” Ivory agreed. “It is not right. We need to stop the Sibling from making a grievous mistake.”

The inkspren looked to direction of the fabrial lifts, but the Elsecaller made no motion towards it.

Instead, Jasnah took in another deep breath and let it out again -less air- and volume- to take with her. She Transported herself again within the physical realm.

This time to a location high up within the Tower, where she would assuredly suffer even more pain.

 

 

Notes:

There's a lot going on. Probably too much- i.e. bit off more than I can chew. *insert nervous laugh*.
Might end being 4 or 5 parts. I know where I want it to go- it needs to make sense.

The main characters/ couple will eventually make an appearance before Part II is over.

Broken heart syndrome is also know as Takotsubo cardiomyopathy. It is a real disease, though not as catastrophic as protrayed here. Takotsubo = octopus trap because the shape of the heart (which balloons outwardly) appears similar to the traps Japanese us on octopi.

Inert gas asphyxiation with Nitrogen (100%) is a method of execution that is supposed to be quick and painless. (debatable)

Chapter 13: Another Oath - Part 3 of 5

Summary:

The Windrunners continue to fight with their new limitations.
Sigzil questions his leadership capabilities.

Adolin finds the kidnapper.

Kaladin is almost back at the Tower.

Is it too late to save them all?

- this chapter is now split into 5 parts- mostly because I don't like 4 parts. And 3 proved too short.

Numbers. Knowledge. Organization.

Were these the qualities that made one a great leader?

Maybe in Azir. In one of their many-thousand bureaucratic departments.

But Sigzil had failed the government service exam. Not good enough for the role of civil servant.

He then ran into some trouble, which required rescue by an ancient -though rather scheming- being. And through those circumstances, began his training as a Worldsinger.

He ran into some more trouble again. Was then abandoned by said-being. And ended up a slave to an Alethi warlord running bridges on the Shattered Plains. Saved that time by a boy, barely a man, who was still the most honorable person he has ever known. And through those circumstances, he became a Windrunner.

Sigzil was not a great fighter, but he was a superb administrator and thus, when Kaladin retired, his former captain offered the Azish man a promotion. And through those circumstances, he became the new Companylord.

In all of this, what did Sigzil want? Who was he supposed to be, really?

He had a strong sense of loyalty. To satisfy one savior or another. Even applying for the government exam was more so to fulfill his family’s dream to climb up the social ladder than his own.

As a member of Bridge Four, bonding with an honorspren was the expectation. But there were times he had wondered if he truly belonged to this order.

Given the autonomy, would he have made the same choices?

But sometimes in life, a choice is an opportunity- one you must accept in the moment or abandon. Stop or progress. And Sigzil always chose to keep going. He would let duty and obligation guide him for now. Because his comrades, his found family, needed him.

Sigzil lashed quickly to the designated rendezvous point as the fire shield continued burning around the upper tiers of the Tower. It would fail as a barrier in the next thirty minutes, as expected. It would have served its purpose- to prevent the enemies from entering from above and allow escape within the Tower to the lower protected floors.

But they had not expected the queen, the Sibling’s Bondsmith, to fall gravely ill and the Tower’s protections against the Fused to fail immediately, though Skybreakers would still have been able to challenge them.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t a foreign experience to fight both in battle simultaneously- they’ve done so numerous times before. That wasn’t what they feared.

A dagger with a yellow-gold strip down its center. Gemstone at the pommel infused with a blue light, like Stormlight, but warping the air around it.

They had been debriefed on its appearance and appreciated this new extreme threat. An anti-Stormlight infused Raysium dagger. A weapon specifically designed to kill Radiant spren.

Each Radiant made a choice with their spren. Fight with them as a Shardweapon or wield a normal weapon into battle instead. The latter would allow the Radiant spren to freely move in any form they desired, more capable of evading an enemy attack.

But even among their best fighters, normal weapons against Fused with their carapace armor were severely ineffective. Most Radiants had become reliant on both their powers and their Shardweapons. And they had already seen how other Raysium weapons could already drain Stormlight, taking away the Radiant’s powers and the ability to heal.

Who needed more protection? The Radiant or their spren?

There should only be a few of these weapons.
We can still change form during battle.
You need us!

Among the honorspren, almost none chose to allow their Radiant to bear only a normal weapon.

“A femalen in dark red robes has the weapon,” Skar reported to the Companylord. “Lyn suffered minimal physical injuries, but she remains unconscious. They’ve carried her over to the medical unit.”

“Can any of your spren change their form?” Sigzil asked the other Windrunners.

They shook their heads.

Rua, who appeared as a tiny boy with one arm, shook his own head vigorously too, while sitting on his Radiant’s shoulder. The spren took the form of a tiny boy, though Lopen had preferred he were a bead of light instead, harder to hit. So Rua, removed all but one arm – no legs either – as it made him a slightly smaller target.

“Retrieve the weapon you’re most proficient with from the armory, then give me your Shardweapons. I’ll hold on to them and stay close, while the four of you attack the Fused target.” Radiants would otherwise lose their powers if they strayed too far away from their spren. “Lopen, I want you and Rua to help guard me. Warn me if any enemies get too close.”

Drehy gathered and tied their Shardweapons into a bundle and handed it over to their leader.

“Keep them safe for us,” he said to him.

Sigzil nodded.

Who needed more protection?

The spren willing to forge bonds were fewer than the persons willing to bond with them. Another bond could always be made. Another Radiant created.

Sigzil would escape with them if needed. His soldiers – his friends- understood.

Before the end of the day, the Companylord, who at times doubted his place among the Windrunners, would swear their Fourth Ideal. The second in his generation to do so.

With little choice, he would learn to accept that there will be those he could not protect.

--

Jasnah sat next to her dying mother with her cousin by her side.

The fire shield would fall soon, and the remaining enemies could begin their infiltration from the top of the Tower. Her mother would probably die if they had to move her.

The latest update was that Lift had been spotted. But how much longer could they - should they- wait?

The Sibling wanted to end the bond soon and return to sleep.

Was it more logical to offer a bond with a new Bondsmith now before they made that decision?

A year ago when she had spared her cousin, a part of her still chastised herself for that decision. Even though it ultimately proved to be the right one.

Too sentimental.

It was illogical to expect emotional decisions to continue to be the right ones.

When the Fused had recently invaded Urithiru, and her uncle wanted to retake the city, she had truthfully opposed that decision. The cost would be great. The odds against them.

Her uncle then spoke about hope. But hope was always irrational.

Her own words to him echoed back.

Hope prevents someone from standing up and doing what needs to be done, because they cling to a wish for everything to be different.

Currently the Sibling wasn’t responsive with Jasnah’s attempts to discuss the matter of the bond further. They claimed they were too occupied leading Adolin’s team to rescue Lift. But it seemed to Jasnah, that they simply didn’t trust her or her inkspren.

Perhaps it was related to the rivalry between honorpsren and inkspren. The Tower was after all, the creation of Honor and Cultivation.

Or maybe because logical actions were, at times, at odds with honorable ones. They’d likely need a different Radiant to negotiate with the Tower’s spren. One more like their father.

--

Time was up.

She sat down on a bench in the central atrium and set the satchel down next to her. With the Tower barely operational, water was no longer flowed from the fountain behind her. She waited there for her enemies to arrive. Everything had gone so far as planned. As foreseen.

A tall man in Shardplate carefully walked towards her. She heard steps echoing from the other entry points in the large room.

The kidnapper loosened the top of the bag to reveal only the head of her hostage, bound and gagged with a metal collar visible around the neck.

“Don’t worry she’s alive,” she said. “I’ve only removed her arms and legs to make her easier to carry. I assure you it was done with minimal pain.”

The sack could only fit an axehound pup. It looked like of one of those illusion tricks from a show at Middlefest. An assistant, split in half, with a portion of their body fitting into a space that seemed impossibly small.

Lift’s eyes were dark brown, not the usual white when Radiant. She blinked slowly, as if more than only Stormlight had been drained from her. Her stillness was somehow even more disturbing than the notion of her missing limbs. It was unusual to see the Edgedancer in anything but a state of motion. As if she were a living reminder of that quintessential law in physics.

“What do you want, Malata?” Adolin asked in a measured tone.

The illusion she had worn had not yet faded, but she was the only one skilled enough to remove limbs with this degree of surgical precision.  There was no visible blood outside of the satchel.

“Right now. Nothing more than a way to secure my freedom.” She placed her hand over the teenager’s scalp. Killing did not require precision as long as one didn’t care what sort of mess was made. “You’re in need of this one’s unique healing powers, if I’m not mistaken.” 

“You’re willing to hand over Lift, unharmed?”

“Exactly.”

“There’s no way for you to win this.” the General said. “You’re surrounded and outnumbered.”

“And therefore, I must appeal to both your desperation and your honor,” the Releaser answered. “Call off your soldiers guarding the lower floors. Once my spren has confirmed our escape path is clear, you can have her.”

While her husband spoke with the enemy, Brightness Radiant calmly entered the large room. She pushed down Shallan’s apprehensive thoughts. Malata had taken the appearance of Palona, Sebarial’s mistress. A person who was kind and nurturing to all those around her. A person who shouldn’t have any enemies. A person who might be dead.

How long had the Dustbringer assumed her identity? Lift was probably looking for something to eat when she was deceived and captured. A Fused wouldn’t have been able to create a working illusion using Voidlight while the Tower’s defenses were operational. So there must be another traitor in their ranks. A Lightweaver? Or a Truthwatcher? Pattern buzzed nervously over Radiant’s uniform.

A dozen or so questions were also left unspoken in Adolin’s mind. Taravangian was dead. So who was Malata working for? What were they planning to do with Lift? How could they trust her? But there was no time for interrogation. And the Dustbringer was right. They were desperate.

“You have a deal,” Adolin said. He then ordered one of his soldiers to pass on the message through their spren to the team that was standing by on the 20^th floor.

Radiant noted the collar around Lift’s neck.

Likely a suppression fabrial.

But it was reported that they had put Lift inside a cage the last time. How was this method more effective when the device was so small? Was it related to the discovery of the anti-Lights? Her mother-in-law would probably know. As long as she…

“Can you at least tell us why you are doing this?” Adolin asked. “Your side has won. We won’t fight anymore. We’re ready to negotiate a treaty.”

Malata thrummed her fingers on top of Lift’s skull. That at least drew out a look of annoyance from the Edgedancer’s face. She was still gagged, but one could easily fill in her inaudible words.

“Negotiate?” Malata scoffed. “Not with war criminals.”

Father was a different man then, Adolin reminded himself. A man not in his right mind…consumed by the power of one of the Unmade.

“My father admitted his crimes and sought to become a better person,” her argued.

“Yes, he wrote a book.” She took her hand off Lift and crossed her arms. “Too bad his victims can’t read it.”

Radiant looked to Adolin and shook her head, a gesture telling him to disengage. But the General continued to stare down his enemy.

“Well he’s dead now too.”

“And we are disappointed that we can no longer put him on trial.” Malata stood up and stretched her limbs, like a runner would before a race. Spark, her spren would return soon, and then it would be their time to escape. But she was curious how far she could push the hiphprince, who, except for matters related to courtship, had a pristine reputation. After all, a hallmark trait of her Order was that they enjoyed taking things apart in order to understand how they work.

She pressed on. ”But your father’s influence, his legacy, doesn’t die with him.”

“And you expect his wife to answer for him?”

“Of course not,” she said with a laugh. “The queen has more than enough to answer for herself.” The illusion had begun to fade revealing the Dustbringer, a middle-aged woman with short black hair and light-colored eyes. Both her hands were bare.

“But, son of the Blackthorn, we are not so shortsighted that we cannot look beyond the past. Our priority is to secure a better future. And in this present, you Kholins continue to pose a great threat. When one person or the few wield the power of gods, unity is synonymous with tyranny. Until every slave, singer, and spren is given equal power you cannot sue for peace or unity.”

“And you’d murder us before speaking to us?” Adolin asked furiously. The knot inside him flared again. Pulled so taut the strands of rope were beginning to tear.

“You don’t interact with your cousin much do you? Or do you call her your step-sister now?”

Radiant put her hand over Adolin’s gauntlet to calm him. It would have worked better if she were his wife instead.

“The order to free all Alethi slaves has already been signed by Jasnah. We didn’t want to create more chaos by announcing it before the outcome of the contest.”

“And we’ve had full confidence that this queen would get it done. We don’t even begrudge her for waiting an entire year. She needed that time to establish her authority over the Alethi highprinces.” Malata walked a few steps towards the man in Plate, which was also a few steps closer to her escape route. The time to conclude this exchange was close.

“But your stepmother has had decades to correct these wrongs. She has governed in her husband’s name and been complicit in the enslavement of thousands.”

“It was a different time back then.”

“I know. I lived it.” Her eyes hardened as she recalled painful memories. She would leave them unspoken- no one else, especially not her enermies, deserved to know. She continued. “The queen was lucky we did not intervene after her second marriage -again- to the most powerful man on Roshar. Taravangian always had a soft spot for her. And reliable sources reported it wasn’t for political reasons, it was for love.”

“It was,” Adolin said with gritted teeth. He shrugged off Radiant’s hand from his armor.

“But then she bonded the Sibling and became a Bondsmith. Tell me.. A couple, especially one in love, who have access to the greatest Surgepowers, whose interest would they serve? Eachother’s? Or the people’s? How could any of us ever hold their combined powers in check?”

“But he’s dead now!” Adolin yelled. “So leave her alone!”

Shallan herself finally emerged to intervene- the incoming insult was obvious to her.  But it was too late. The last threads were about to snap. A countdown had begun. And Adolin’s heart was beating very fast.

The Dustbringer smiled victoriously, noting her opponent’s battle-ready pose, satisfied that she had torn off the illusion of that perfect honorable solider. They were all children of Odium after all. Children of the Passions.

“It would have worked better the other way around,” she explained. “Your father once proved he could step back when his brother held the throne. But not your stepmother-aunt.” The smile transformed into a sneer. “How long would it be, before she fucked and married the Nightwatcher’s Bondsmith?”

That’s it.

Adolin summoned Maya.

But the weight in his hand was unfamiliar. He fell to his knees as he spun when he attempted to follow through on the swing.

Looking up from the floor, he saw as Malata skated quickly away towards the exit into the stairwell. Then, he stared with confusion at the long vine he held in his hand instead of a Shardblade. But he didn’t have much time to think on it.

He was lucky to be close to the ground when it happened. It limited the amount of damage his Plate endured when the explosion went off behind him.

--

The hardest thing in the world for Kaladin to do was nothing. Syl wasn’t able to transform to any other form, let alone a Shardweapon. She remained a bead of light, frantically following him. He wasn’t able to summon his Shardplate either.

One option was to ask Szeth to lend him his other sword. The one that talked with a black scabbard. But despite wanting to destroy evil, the very weapon felt like evil incarnate. Kal concluded he’d likely be better off finding a discarded weapon on the battlefield to use rather than wield one that constantly made him want to vomit.

They were close enough now to make out the individuals fighting in the air. It was not the typical one to one match up that usually followed an invitation to duel after a salute. He couldn’t fly faster than he already was trying.

Szeth flew next to him in quiet agitation, which was a step improved from his initial frozen shock. During their mission to Shinovar, the Skybreaker was not able to complete his Fourth Ideal, to cleanse the Shin of false leaders. And thus, he was still stuck at the Third one. Except the man he had sworn to follow was now dead.

“Szeth, can you still summon your Blade?”

“Yes. But shouId I use sword-nimi instead?”

“No!” Kaladin yelled out, a bit too loudly.  “Not until you have run out of options.”

“Is that..is that your will, Kaladin Stormblessed?” the broken man asked.

Here it comes…  

There were certainly worse people to follow than him. But the way Szeth obeyed- without question- this relationship would feel similar to that of a master and his slave, a notion Kaladin absolutely abhorred.

But how could Kaladin refuse? The mentally unstable Assassin needed to be contained as much as that cursed sword.

“Yes, Szeth. Yes, it is…”

Before Szeth could officially say the words, Syl interrupted.

“Kaladin, we should go directly to the Tower instead of the battlefield.”

“Why? I need to help the others fight.”

The honorspren glimmered brightly for a few moments. Her current form suppressed the thoughtful expression she would have otherwise presented.

“Something tells me you’d more helpful as a surgeon and not a solider. The Tower isn’t functioning right. We may be able to restore our powers if we fix it.“

Kaladin considered his spren’s advice. Dalinar had asked him to use his surgeon skills to recover Ishar from Shinovar. But he hadn’t been successful in restoring Ishar’s sanity- at least not long enough to bring the Herald back with him. But he had witnessed the unchained Bondsmith perform extraordinary feats with his Surgepower, and Kal had intended to pass that knowledge to Dalinar.

He was gone, but there was another Bondsmith who could use that information. And there was also the matter of the promise he had made.

---

 

She drifted past a sea of beads below her. It felt a bit like flying- the way they had done it before she had engineered the wooden spherical conveyance. Except when her entire body had been lashed, she had been able to see her own feet. And there was no wind to fight and blink against her face and eyes.

Then, she felt like she was being pulled. Not her body- but her essence. Her soul.

The figure on the grassy hilltop had his back faced towards her as Navani slowly phased into the scene.  

Tall with dark hair. He was dressed in a Kholin uniform. The cape wouldn’t have suited anyone else, but him.

He turned to her, as she ran up the hill, on her own legs that had only materialized a moment ago.

His eyes were as beautiful as she last remembered them. Like pools of water from the sea. Of course, the scientist knew that the color of most seas was blue. But not all of them. Not special ones.

The former king of Alethkar smiled as he extended his hand to her.

He then said, “Hello, mother. We’ve been expecting you.”

Notes:

I have not read the Sunlit man- but inferred what I could through coppermind/online summaries.

I had not intended to write too much aside from the usual character POVs, but felt like another perspective was needed.

Part II ending is in sight!

Chapter 14: Another Oath Part 4 of 5

Summary:

Will tragedy strike more than once?
A lot of people need saving and medical attention.

Featuring:
Adolin, Lift, Navani, Jasnah

Notes:

Long chapter- but next one should be the end.
Sorry no sexy scene again.
Romance returns in Part III.

A deep shade of red like nothing he’d ever seen.

“Gorgeous” was how he had described it.

Her auburn hair fell past the middle of her back, untouched by a single strand of black. She was so different from Alethi women. Slender frame. Freckles over pale skin with matching light blue eyes.

He’d be the first to admit that her exoticness was what charmed him in the beginning. But if it were the only reason for his attraction, their relationship would have crumbled as quickly as all his other ones had. Adolin Kholin was as notorious for his wandering eye as he was famous for his own gorgeous mop of blonde-black hair.

Beauty created a spark, but it couldn’t fuel the flame.

With Shallan, he never felt an obligation to politely listen and reciprocate attention because he was truly captivated by everything she said. Her intelligence and wit tugged at him with a type of torrential yearning he had never felt before.

Most of all, he adored her unabashed weirdness. Who else could talk about poop on a first date, and not only get away with it, but get him to reveal that he had shat in his Plate not only once, but three times?

His eyes would never wander again.

She had been standing when it happened. And so her body was thrown violently onto the ground, while his was protected in Plate and by his position low on the floor after his fall.

That unmistakable red was now before him, frighteningly still.

They had been debriefed about it.

When anti-Light and pure Light come into contact, an explosion occurs.

Their side had yet to weaponize this scientific principle. The enemy was one step ahead. But the tactical implications of this did not enter the general’s mind- there was only one thing -one person- that had all of his attention.

He stood up in his cracked armor and leapt towards her, unlocking both gauntlets mentally then tearing off his helmet.

“Shallan!” he screamed.

He skidded onto his knees as he met the ground where she laid. He turned her over to check her breathing. But then his soldier’s training stopped him.

Don’t move the wounded unless necessary. Sudden movements can cause more injury. Wait for help.

But Shallan was a Radiant. She should be able to heal, even if she were paralyzed from the neck down.

She had once told him about the time a crossbow bolt had struck her directly in the head. He had grimaced at that description at first. Then laughed along with her when she showed him a comical sketch of the event. She had explained to him that she was lucky it had only damaged her right side, as it would have affected her speech even more if the other was injured.

This time, there was no visible wound on her head except for the whites of her left eye. A pool of dark red blood surrounded the light blue iris around a dilated black pupil. Her left arm and parts of her leg were shattered from the impact.

Stormlight leaked from Adolin’s Plate, but none were being absorbed by his wife.

Adolin’s eyes darted around frantically as he looked over her broken body. He had never experienced this degree of fear and panic in all his life – not even on that day in the Shattered Plains when he and his father were surrounded- almost killed– when so many of his friends and comrades fell around them. The only consolation - a warrior’s death in battle was the Alethi way. The masculine ideal.

But the highprince never really believed in that chullshit.

Life before death. That made more sense to him.

Because of her left-sided brain injury, Shallan couldn’t move her right hand to show him what to do. The other side was too mangled. She looked up at her distraught husband, with her own quivering lips. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes. The left side trailed blood along with them.

Help me, her eyes told him, followed by a whimpering noise- the only sound she could make.

Regret pierced Adolin’s heart. His father had been right. He should have tried more to become a Radiant. If he were an Edgedancer or Truthwatcher, he might be able to heal her. Instead, he knelt there, horrified and helpless.

But there was another hero among them. A perpetual third wheel who only recently learned to respect boundaries and give the couple their privacy without explicit instructions. He was a curious spren, such that all human behavior, in every setting, always fascinated him.

“Shrapnel made from aluminum,“ Pattern said, his form rippling across the rubble on the stone ground. “They are inhibiting Shallan’s healing powers. We must remove them.”

“What? How?” Adolin asked even though he knew the answer. But her clothes were torn up in so many places.

“Mmmm…” the spren buzzed nervously. “Cut them out.”

He couldn’t cut away all of it. Could he? Wouldn’t that kill her before she could heal?

Adolin cursed under his breath. Shallan needed a surgeon, not a soldier. He’d be no better than a butcher. Where was Kaladin when he truly needed him? If only his friend could be as easily summoned as a Shardblade.

The solider pulled out his side knife.

No time for doubt. No time to wait for help.

 

Then, he unbuttoned his wife’s uniform jacket and shirt, to search for the entry wounds. Her pant leg was already torn up, revealing different-sized openings- a collection of slivers that oozed with dark crimson blood.

She began to cough up the blood that had started to fill inside her lungs from the sudden pressure of the explosion.

He held the knife in a shaky hand and placed the other against her torso to hold them both steady.

Find the wound tract. Pierce the flesh. Cut around the opening. It needs to be deep enough and wide enough, so you can reach inside. Pull the metal out. Pull them out with your stupidly fat and clumsy fingers.

 

And do you know who had slender and precise fingers? Kaladin fucking Stormblessed. And he wasn’t here. Because Shallan had chosen the wrong person.

Fuck. Fuck.

Fuck.

More blood pulsed out of her injuries. His hand that was supposed to steady her began to feel slippery as the liquid dribbled around it. He angled the knife for the first plunge into flesh. Into his wife.

 

Do it now!

Sweat dripped from Adolin’s nose.

 

Strength before…. Strength before….

“Wait, Adolin,” Pattern hummed. The highprince’s eyes refocused onto the cryptic who appeared as a configuration of interconnected knots on the surface of her skin. “We only need to remove the largest pieces. I will point them out to you. I understand... the pattern.”

He glided to her thigh and circled around a long wound that wasn’t bleeding much.

“This one first.”

The solider took a deep breath.

This was the same as fighting an enemy. No hesitation. You cannot think of them as human. You should not imagine their pain.

The same thing. Except this was no storming enemy. This was the love of his life. And the enemy was forcing him to hurt her... That seething knot was gone, but this was something infinitely worse.

The knife pierced easily, and he cut an opening quickly, removing a core of tissue- muscle, blood, fat- pink, red and yellow. Her thigh tensed against his hand, but she made no noise. Blood began to gush as he reached in with fingers and dug out a chunk of misshapen metal.

“This one next.”

At her flank he did the same thing. But he couldn’t find it at first, although he did feel the slipperiness of her internal organs as he explored the wound. He stabbed again, making the entrance wider, so he could insert all his fingers, and finally got it out. A small portion of her intestines spilled out from the larger opening. Evisceration. If he hadn’t seen it before, he would have vomited.

“This last one…should be enough.”

Around the base of her neck, the metal was visible. This was a fatal wound. The type if removed the victim would bleed to death within a few minutes if not shorter.

He held her face in his bloody and bare hands and searched her eyes. He had to be sure she understood.

“Love,” he said, “You need to start taking in Stormlight immediately after I remove this next piece. If it doesn’t work, I’ll have to keep cutting.” The leg flesh would be simplest to cut back quickly. He’d have to hack at it- an amputation would even be sensible. She could heal from it after she took care of the more critical wounds. But he didn’t have the right weapons- the right tools. And he was the wrong person.

Shallan looked up at her teary-eyed husband and blinked forcibly once to acknowledge his instructions. Only the left eyelid moved as the right side was paralyzed. Thankfully, she couldn’t feel any of his cuts because the sensation was also dead on that side. But he didn’t know that.

Adolin removed a pouch of spheres, opening it, and placing the infused gemstones close to her head, where it would need to heal first.

“On the count of three.”

He firmly gripped the shiny edges of the shrapnel at the wound, keeping it still until they were ready.

“One.” He placed his other hand at based of her neck. Steady.

“Two.” And he then took in a deep breath.

“Three.” A jet of bright red blood burst forth in a constant stream as he pulled out the aluminum scrap,

“Shit!” He pressed both hands against her neck to hold pressure.

 

Heal. Heal. Heal. PLEASE.

How was he going to cut away more shrapnel and take care of the bleeding?

 

God! Heralds! Father! Anyone! Help us!

 

So much blood had seeped through his fingers, even though only a few seconds passed. And then, someone.. possibly.. answered his prayers…

Stormlight misted out from the infused gemstones. The light violently swirled into a vortex as it entered Shallan’s body. The pool of blood at her neck, slowed its rate of spread, and she let out a final cough, before taking in a deep free breath. Her left eye regained its usual colors and the pupil normalized. She sat up and wrapped her healed arms around her husband in Plate.

Adolin cradled her head with his bloodied hands and kissed the top of her auburn hair.

“Thank you,” he whispered to some unseen entity.

“You’re welcome,” Pattern answered back.

Though his heart felt lifted, he was also so exhausted, at least mentally. But his body started to feel heavy too. 

So heavy. He was going to fall again.

Oh, that’s right. He peeled back from his wife so he could unlatch the rest of his dead armor, no longer powered by Stormlight.

Shallan, now full recovered, stood up in her tattered and bloodied clothes. For normal humans, experiencing such a grievous injury would have been severely traumatizing. That near death moment would be enough to avoid an immediate return to the battlefield.

But not for Radiants. Charged with Stormlight, the sensation of invincibility overcame their trauma. The memories of fear and pain always instantly washed away. No wonder the wars could never end.

Shallan calmly surveyed the scene around them. There had been four other Radiant soldiers that had arrived with them. As well as Lift. Five bodies on the ground. Two clearly beyond rescue- too many pieces pulled apart.

It smelled of iron and smoke. Blood and destruction.

Water flooded the spot where Lift had been placed- the blast had left a gaping hole in the fountain, now surrounded by stone wreckage.

Rmemants of the bomb were indiscernible, obliterated beyond recognition. And such was nearly the case with Lift’s body, though a bloody disfigured mass with long hair was on the ground- probably the head.

Shallan froze at the dreadful sight. Lift was their last hope.

They had only returned from Shadesmar a few days ago, but she could have assigned more of her people to uncover the enemy. They might have prevented this infiltration.

Espionage was her calling. Wasn’t it?

But her only teacher, Mraize, was someone she didn’t trust. And maybe in a different timeline, Ialai Sadeas could been a role model- her spy network had been vast and very effective. Who else was there? Where would she find them?

Shallan stood silently, contemplating the disaster before them, still half-dressed from where her husband had to expose her wounds. She was shortly joined by him, after he had pried off the last of the heavy dead armor.

Before they could speak to each other and consider what other options, if any, remained, a familiar voice spoke. And it was not the usual third wheel.

“Grownups! Over here!”

Adolin and Shallan cried out her name at the same time.

From behind a large stony fragment, a little girl appeared, naked and covered in blood and dust. Her long hair was gone, replaced by short dark strands. But her eyes glowed that special brilliant white. Despite being unclothed, Lift didn’t wasn’t embrassed at all.

There was only one thing on her mind.

“Food! I need food!”

--

The grass was strange here. Their blades did not withdraw from her feet as she stepped forward. It recalled the species thought to be native to Shinovar. But the sun appeared to be facing the wrong direction. And where were the moons? This wasn’t Roshar. She knew that without asking.

“What is this place?” she asked.

“It’s the place in between,” her son explained. “I’m sorry, Mother. But your life has ended, I’m here to guide you over.”

Dead? Already? How? She was having trouble remembering, her mind felt like it was covered by a fog,

He extended both hands to her, and Navani held them. They felt warm. So alive. Her baby boy.

“We must cross over soon. If you stay here too long, it will be more difficult. Much more painful to transition.”

Surely this was too soon though, right?

“But..”

“I know. Not ready?” he said with a warm smile. “None of us think we are. I was the same way.

 As was father.”

“He’s here? I mean.. somewhere? Too?”

“All of us are. Grandmother as well. I met Father in this place. He guided me over.”

Navani Kholin has always considered herself a religious woman, despite the contradictions science at times presented her. But there was so much unknown. So many possibilities. There was still room for both in her mind and heart.

According to Vorinism, humans returned to the Tranquiline Halls after death. A reward for only the worthy. Everyone else went to Hell, which was actually a planet named Braize, where the Fused respawned and Odium resided. And Heaven? A planet named Ashyn.

These were the new facts that the Heralds had presented to them. The very same Heralds she used to pray to. Despite their madness and pitiful state, Navani still believed in an Almighty. A higher power beyond anyone’s understanding that would receive her prayers.

So maybe they were wrong about Heaven and Hell. But the after-existence was apparently real. Only that everyone was in the same place.

Yet, Navani had never seriously considered that she would meet her first husband ever again, especially when she still believed in Heaven and Hell. He was decidedly not a religious man, sos he’d thought he’d likely end up in Hell among other reasons, and she had thought she had a good chance at Heaven.

What would she say to him now? What did he know?

“Don’t worry, father is not the same as he was,” her son told her. “Once you cross, you achieve perfection. You become the best version of yourself. He’s not upset at all about you and uncle.”

Not upset? Was that even possible with his “best” version? Who was Gavilar Kholin without the sense of entitlement? Unrivaled authority?

But this was the afterlife. Anything was possible, right?

“What’s it like? The Beyond?” she asked.

“Peace. No pain. No worries.” He let go of one of her hands and held on to just one as if ready to lead her.

“Do I have a choice?”

“You need to let go of your worldly attachments, Mother. It’s too late to turn back.”

“But there’s still so much I want to accomplish. There are those who depend on me.”

“I know. It’s not fair is it? But that’s how our lives ended,” her son lamented. “You know I was so close to becoming Radiant, Mother. It would have saved me.”

She almost winced as he said it, recalling how Kaladin had explained it to her. Elhokar was mere moments away. One single word. She had wanted the entire truth from the then captain, no matter how painful.

Her son placed both hands over one of hers, cupping them in a tender, soothing gesture.

“Did you know that Wit took my spren for himself?” he said with amusement.

“He bonded your spren? The cryptic?”

Elhokar would have been a Lightweaver. That made sense. He loved drawing as a child. Loved maps. Loved looking at her schematics. He had so much potential.

They couldn’t even retrieve his body. The Fused had promised to honor a King’s death, Soulcasted into stone. She thought she might visit his statue one day. Then panicked at the thought they may have left his face mutilated for display. A similar cruelty the Alethi, her husband included, bestowed on the defeated during their conquest.

“I’ll tell you more once we are on the other side. We have an eternity to catch up.” He then patted her hand. “Come now. Let’s be on our way.”

An eternity with her son…waiting for the others to cross over to them.

He tugged her forward again, but the inquisitive woman had more questions, the more her mind began to clear.

“Elhokar?”

“Yes?”

“Did your uncle pass through?”

“No, Mother. It’s not Dalinar’s time yet.”

He had died though too. She was sure of that somehow.

She stared at him, the man in a golden cape, his blue uniform embroidered and edged with gold thread. Kholin family colors were blue and white, but his father had taken to using gold in his personal heraldry and clothing. Gold banding had adorned Gavilar’s Plate. The son had desperately wanted to live up to his father’s legacy. But that path never suited him.

She lifted her hand to his cheek and admired those sea-green eyes again. They looked so much alike, though Elhokar never wore a beard. Then, Navani let go of her beloved son’s hand.

“I’m sorry, but I want to stay and wait for him here.”

“Mother, don’t be ridiculous!” he huffed. “Aunt Evi will help guide him when it’s his turn.”

Of course, she would be here too. The Riran woman was always so kind and loving. Navani wasn’t afraid of meeting the more perfect version of her.

“We can do it together,” she replied. “This is my choice.”

“But there isn’t a choice, Mother. There’s only one path forward.”

“Then why does this place exist at all?”

“Be rational. Think about it. All of us will end in the Beyond. Dalinar too. He will meet you there. But, in this place you will sense the time pass. You will feel longing and grief. None of that exists in the Beyond.”

A place without longing or grief? What about love? Does that disappear too?

“Elhokar, I realize you never approved of our marriage, but he and I are bound together by our oaths. You were there when the Stormfather sanctioned it. I must stay here and wait for him.”

The young man then folded his arms and let out an exasperated sigh.

“If only you weren’t so stubborn,” he finally said, shaking his head. “But it’s even more important to me that you cross over.”

Abruptly, the colors in front of her were swept away. From his clothes, from his eyes, from the grass on the ground. The last few remaining spots dripped down like too much paint on a canvas. Almost every single color. All save one.

Dalinar had once described it to her. But no words could prepare her for the sudden expanse of fear that ballooned inside her. The sun still burned brightly from above, but she could no longer sense its warmth. The wind froze the cold sweat on her face. She staggered back before the figure in front of her.

“The Bondsmith’s soul is mine,” the golden god said. “But if he is bound to you as well, then I must eliminate the competition.”

--

Lift wasn’t awesome. Not right now.

But she certainly had been incredibly amazing. She was recently faced with a curious choice.

Which half should she regenerate from? The head? Or the body?

Most consider the brain the body’s most important organ – it was where the mind resided. Without it, a person was no better than a living doll. And Lift’s mind was certainly incredibly important.

But some say that the soul was housed in the stomach. And Lift loved eating even before she needed it to fuel her special power, the very one that currently made Lift the most important person in the Tower.

So as usual, she went with her gut.

They had already fed her all the food they had brought with them, mostly dried military rations that were easy to carry. Some of it was charred. But it was still better than Soulcasted food, especially Shallan’s sorry attempts. A boot would taste better – and that was not an exaggeration. Lift had tried both.

There was one good thing about being kidnapped and attempted murdered by explosion. Lift was small again. It required much less energy to reform as a child than a teen. She’d likely grow up again, but this was quite an interesting loophole. Once she got too big, all she had to do was find a way to get exploded again.

Wyndle would probably chide her for cheating. Where was that Storming Voidbringer anyway? Probably hiding again. More chicken than a chicken.

After quickly healing the wounded soldiers, partially only, to preserve her powers, they made their way to the lifts, so that Radiant Lift could go and heal the other most important person.

With Grandpa gone, Stormlight was in short supply. They had to conserve what they could. So Shallan had advised against her becoming wesome. Awesomeness also didn’t work very well going up anyway.

So Lift would only be incredibly amazing for now. Because that’s what Grandma needed. And no matter what the Dustlady said, Lift knew that Grandma was a good person.

It wasn’t only because she didn’t yell – as much- when Lift borrowed her lunch without asking.

Grandma acted as grandmas do. She made sure everyone including Lift was fed, even if that meant giving away her own meal. She memorized all of Lift’s favorite snacks without asking, and always bought extra just for her. Navani fussed and bustled around the orphan, constantly reminding everyone that Lift was only a child. But despite her attempts to keep the Edgedancer away from danger, she still wasn’t able to stop the Radiant from tagging along wherever she chose anyway.

A warm and kind person, who wanted to take care of everyone. Just like her own mother.

Malata was definitely wrong about her. The same way Darkness had been about the others.

There should be a way to get through to the Dustbringer, like she had with Nale. After all, Edgedancers were the Order of the common people. And Lift had already sworn their Third ideal- to listen to the ignored.

But she also needed Malata to come back and agree to speak to her, so she could listen.

Currently, that mission belonged to someone else.

--

Given how quickly she had previously descended, it was likely she was near the final floors.

Adolin had reasoned that even without Plate, he was better suited to try and capture the Dustbringer. The enemy had suppression weapons at their disposal, so practical fighting skills would be more useful than Surgebinding powers.

And if Lift needed more food to fuel her powers, Shallan could Soulcast something edible. Food was food no matter how undelectable it was.

The determination in her husband’s eyes told Shallan there was no more points – and no more time- to argue. So with Lift in tow, she rode the fabrial lift the Sibling had restored to the upper levels of the Tower to try and save her mother-in-law.

Treacherously, she hoped Malata had already escaped. How would he even be fast enough to catch up to her anyway?

--

How indeed.

As he watched his wife ascend with their last hope, a plan began to take shape for the General.

Adolin was no surgeon, but he was a superb soldier. One with an encyclopedic knowledge of weapons because ever since he was a child he always thought they were really cool. So many types, each with its own unique traits, making them better suited for specific tasks. A swordstaff for horseback. A warhammer against armor.

Perhaps then, it was destined that he would be the one to forge a special bond with a Dead Shardblade. It wouldn’t be farfetched to say that Adolin loved Mayalaran. But not in a romantic sort of way. Of course not!

Like his mother, Adolin Kholin wasn’t afraid to love freely. It was so very un-Alethi. But he was also so good-natured, it was hard for anyone not to like him or want to be friends with him. Of course, being extremely good-looking helped too.

Born unto light. He lived up to that name. Mostly.

Right now Adolin’s most beloved weapon was acting different and weird. But for the highprince, those weren’t necessarily bad things… sometimes they were better.

“Ok, Maya,” he said, speaking to her as he often did before a duel. “We need to get down to the lower floors as quickly as possible. If you are going to stay a vine, can you please make yourself as long as possible?”

As usual the dead spren did not answer back. Still, Adolin waited in silence, leaving a space for an imagined response before moving ahead. There wasn’t any time to measure the vine’s length, but this was the fastest way to catch up to the slippery enemy.

Two of the remaining soldiers tied Mayat to their waist, using their weight as an anchor, so their leader could climb down the empty lift opening. Adolin threw the other end down.

“Sibling,” he said aloud. “Once I get to the lowest floor I can, could you please open the door and guide me to Malata’s location?” There was a blinking of lights from a wall that the General assumed was a positive response, but he had no time to verify. The ever-optimistic man figured he’d have to try anyway and hope for the best.

Born unto light.

His mother had pale yellow hair, not quite gold. And a light complexion. She was so pretty, like a glowing gemstone.

But there is no light without the dark. And only in darkness, could light shine its brightest.

The mostly blonde man carefully adjusted his footing against the stone wall at the edge between the floor and the dropdown. He tightly gripped the sturdy vine in his blood-stained hands.

“Ready?” he said aloud.

And then, after a momentary pause, he descended into the darkness with one of his best friends at his side.

---

His father stood over the patient, head turned so he could listen to the lungs and heart through a wooden funnel. He then lifted each eyelid and checked the pupils with a spherelight pen.

Lirin glanced at his son as he entered the room. Kaladin knew from that look that the news wasn’t good.

“She remains unresponsive,” the surgeon reported to his patient’s family.

Renarin sat in a chair at bedside, while Jasnah stood nearby, arms folded with a piece of paper clutched in one hand. But there were more than just immediate family in this room.

Kaladin almost missed Shallan, who had taken the form of Radiant and stood next to the guards at the periphery. A generous number of scribes sat at a large desk nearby to receive and send spanreed messages. One of the more senior ones sat apart from the others, Kalami, Teleb’s widow. Poised as usual, she was taking meticulous notes. A handful of ardents burnt prayers at the brazier, waiting for their turn to be called on. May Aladar and Brightlady Bethab had both been summoned, but they were still working out the logistics of escorting them to the top of the Tower quickly and safely.

This was the first time Kaladin had set foot inside this bedroom, though the couple routinely held meetings in the adjacent chamber of their living quarters.

It didn’t feel right. So many people, himself included, in this private space.

The young dark-eyed man had grown up in a small farming town and was still new to this world. The grand world of politics, power and rulership. Everyone in the royal family understood that the lines between privacy and public life would always be blurred.

Because when monarchs were born, when they married and produced heirs in turn- all of these things were events of great public importance. An official record must be documented and notarized. Reliable witnesses produced. Any speculation about the heir’s legitimacy or accusations of an illegitimate union could tear down dynasties.

Such was the same when one died. The right stage needed to be set. The right persons present. The right account written. The one that best worked for the crown.

And Jasnah Kholin hated herself for letting that slip away.

Control the narrative.

She had not planned to become their queen. Contributing to the world through the discovery of the truth and scholarship as a Veristitalian was her calling. But now that she had the taste for it- true power-  it was hard for her to ignore the moral injustices she could have only written about now that she had the ability to correct them.

Shallan had reported their encounter with Malata to her. This enemy had a vendetta against the Kholins, a monarchy that condoned and participated in the enslavement of humans and parshmen. Of course, Jasnah knew her parents had tried to do something. A wage for slaves, audits to verify payment, retiring older ones who could no longer work, demanding strict punishments for rape and murder. But their ability to enforce these practices among all the princedoms was terribly weak.

Someone had leaked Jasnah’s forthcoming order to free all Alethi slaves. And instead of improving the opinion of the Kholin family-  it further highlighted the disparity between her progressive agenda and her parent’s lackluster historical attempts. It made Jasnah the hero and further branded her parents -and uncle- the villains.

Two of them were dead. One, technically. And the last one soon to follow.

The paper she grasped in her hand was the latest casualty report. Dead and wounded Radiants and soldiers. And spren. Many might have lived if they had restored the Tower earlier.

Instead, they had made a futile attempt to save her mother. One life traded for the lives of so many. It was illogical. She should have continued fighting alongside those soldiers as well.

All because she had also clung on to hope. Her father would have been disappointed at her sentimentally. Her mother would have been surprised.

The body before her was only a shell. They had discussed this - Navani and her daughter. What they should do if the mind were no longer well.  

Let me go.

But, Jasnah had hope.

Hope. Hope was too irrational.

Renarin insisted that he saw a future with her mother alive as an older woman. But her cousin’s visions could be wrong. He had told her so himself. Being wrong had helped him. Why should being right save her mother?

Hope. Hope was too emotional. And emotions could cause so much pain.

Shallan had disassociated again. Radiant took her place and did not participate in the discussion unless called on. When the redhead had entered the room, she had let out a great sigh in relief as soon as she saw Jasnah, then immediately backed away when she turned in the direction of her dying mother. It unnerved the Lightweaver more than Jasnah would have anticipated.

And where was her husband? Shirking responsibility again. The throne should have gone to him. Adolin was chasing after the Dustbringer, waging war with his muscles instead of his brain. Leaving the thinking to others as he often had.

Hope. Hope prevented someone from standing up and doing what needed to be done.

Jasnah met the eyes of the surgeon- the only other person in the room who understood. The only other one ready to do the difficult thing, the right thing.

“We can proceed whenever you are ready,” Lirin said to her. Jasnah as the next of kin would need to give him permission.

Across from the surgeon, his son resisted the urge to head back out and join the battle with his fellow Windrunners.

Three things stopped him.

First, Shallan was still holding on to his arm. Soon after he had entered the room, she had run up to him and embraced him, her blonde Radiant hair shimmering back to red. He hugged his sobbing friend back. Adolin would understand.

Second, his father would need an assistant for the procedure. Vorinism did not condone euthanasia, but if a sacrifice was done for the greater good, it would be accepted. That’s the story they would tell. The quickest way for the Sibling to bond a new Bondsmith and restore the Tower would be for Navani to die.

Third, before he left for Shinovar, Kaladin had made a promise.

A promise made during his last conversation with a man he deeply admired. Despite his flaws, despite being a light-eyes. Dalinar Kholin was a good person. One who had really tried to become better and do the right thing.

He had told Kaldain that he was ready to sacrifice himself, if need be, for everyone else. But Dalinar had worried about what would happen after his death. It was clear that the enemy feared Bondsmiths the most, for the enormous power they could harness.

 

They’ll come after her next, he had said. If you can, please try and protect her for me.

It wasn’t an order. It was a request from a man deeply in love with his wife.

Kaladin was too late to save her, but maybe he could help ease her passing, and she could be reunited with her husband in the afterlife.

“The Tower’s powers must be restored,” Jasnah said aloud. “To repel the Fused, protect our comrades and win the battle.”  She paused before continuing, softly clearing her throat. “We’ve tried everything reasonably possible. You have my permission to proceed. This is what my mother would have wanted.”

Lirin nodded then looked to his son. “Kaladin, can you empty and retrieve the wash basin next to you. The one I have here won’t be enough.”

The Windrunner let go of his friend’s arm and followed instructions.

As he approached the bed, suddenly something moved under the blankets.

“Wait!” Lift shouted. She scrambled over and waved away the surgeon.

“My dear, you’ve already healed her as much as you could,” Lirin said. “But she’s too far gone. There’s no response. She’s not coming back.”

“But you’ve been using the wrong Light!” Lift shouted. Her hair had already grown to shoulder length. She put a finger and thumb inside her mouth to blow a whistle, but only a sputtering woosh of air came out. “Now, where’s that storming Voidbringer?”

Shortly, from the ceiling, a crystalline face dropped down, hanging from a sturdy looking vine. The cultivationspren was only visible and audible to her.

“Yes mistress?”

“Help me over there, will ya?” She pointed towards the balcony door and windows.

He extended himself lower so that Lift could reach up and hold on to his body of vines. The little Edgedancer grabbed with both hands. To everyone else in the room, it looked like Lift was floating up in mid-air.

“May I ask what we are doing?” Wyndle said as he crawled forward. His viny appendages attaching and reattaching themselves onto the stone above. It mimicked how a slug would move more than a snake.

“Did you forget already, hideyspren?” She let go of one hand and pointed again to the windows. ”We are going over there.”

“Of course, mistress,” he replied with a sigh.

Once they reached the wall, Lift kicked the rod that supported the curtain panels, and the sets of fabric and long metal pipe all fell onto the floor.

“Now, open the shutters!” she loudly commanded.

“I’m afraid I am not able to assist, mistress,” Wyndle said as a new face reformed from another set of vines. Little pink flowers adorned his small mouth. “Recall, I’m not able to move anything in this realm. Except for you of course.”

“Figures. I got to do everything around here,” she said with a grumble.  “Lower me!”

Lift put her feet to the ground, then opened the window shutters and the balcony door, using her Awesomeness to speed up the process.

Sunlight flooded the room. The fireshield had already burnt out- so nothing obstructed the view, as such nothing more protected them. Before Kaladin could relay orders, his soldiers were already running over to guard the opening.

“Check her eyes again!” Lift shouted as she slid her way back.

“Lift,” Lirin said. “This is not how we normally …”

Renarin stepped in front of the surgeon. He lifted one of his aunt’s eyelids, but it was difficult to see the transition. He tried again, but this time he held the eye open and cupped his hand around it to make it dark. Dilation? He then removed the hand, letting the sunlight return. Yes! It constricts!

 

“There’s a reaction!” he shouted. “Lift is right!”

“You see?” Lift stated triumphantly as she plopped herself onto the bed beside Navani. She grabbed one of the older women’s hands and held it between her own.

“It doesn’t necessarily mean...” Lirin started then paused. As Renarin moved away, the surgeon repeated the exam with the other eye, which then produced the same results. “Well actually, I honestly don’t understand what this means,” he said.

“Jasnah, we can still bring her back,” Renarin said excitedly. “My visions show that it is still possible. We need to keep searching for a way.”

Jasnah bit her lip. Only a few minutes ago, she had agreed to let her mother die. Hope again was trying to steer her from a decision she knew was most logical.

“Cousin, it is irrational to gamble on a possibility. We must accept the more probable outcome and move forward. I cannot justify-“

“Shhh!” Lift interrupted. The Edgedancer bent over and placed her ear on Navani’s body. “I can’t listen when y’all are yappin’.”

“Lift, what are you doing?” Jasnah asked in exasperation.

“Am I the only one who actually listens nowadays?” Lift answered. “I said I was LI-STE-NING!” she emphasized. Jasnah silently reaffirmed her choice never to have children.

“To her stomach?”

“Where else?” Lift said confidently. She closed her eyes and shushed the adults in the room.

The Elsecaller looked to Lirin, expecting him to acknowledge this nonsensical behavior. But the surgeon stood back, intently observing with a hand on his chin.

The vision of the little girl curled up against her mother should have stirred her heart. Yet, it only angered the queen. She had to steel her resolve and take back control.

“Jasnah?” Ivory whispered. Her spren appeared next to her collar, dressed in a pitch-black suit, his dark eyes glinting in the sunlight. “We’ve been speaking to Lift’s spren, and we all agree that she should continue her exam.”

“We?” Jasnah asked.

“The spren in this room- Sylpherna, Glys, Pattern and myself.” Typically, most spren chose to remain hidden in the Physical Realm. But all of them were currently visible in their various forms, though Jasnah hadn’t noticed them until now. She could even see a faint outline of the cultivationspren who was attached to the wall above the bedframe.

“Wyndle states his mistress exists partially in the Cognitive Realm,” Ivory continued. “She can sense things over there we cannot.”

They had known that Lift was special because she could metabolize food into Lifelight, but this... As a Veristitalian, Jasnah loved secrets, contradictions and deviations. Uncovering new truths. But research into Realmatic Theory proved to be challenging. It deserved more of her attention,  but nowadays she was more ruler than scholar.

How does one exist in two places at once?

And why wouldn’t you bestow an extraordinary and powerful gift to a child – especially one as “normal” as Lift?

Jasnah found herself increasingly weary of trying to understand the enigmatic schemes of immortal beings. Though, she’d rather confront Wit now and ask about his plans after the contest, rather than decide when to kill her mother.

“If I’m not needed here, Jas--- Queen Jasnah,” Kaladin said. “I’d like to help my comrades in the battlefield."

Stormblessed should go aid them, Jasnah thought. Her uncle had removed him from the battlefield out of concern that the soldier was too broken to return. Post-traumatic stress disorder was what the would-be surgeon had labeled it. Jasnah suffered a similar disease, though she had yet to acknowledge it. Kaladin had mended with Dalinar’s help. The Bondsmith had united him. Glued those pieces back together, which help him swear the Fourth Ideal of the Windrunners, the order that shared a similar power.

The queen was about to give permission for the former highmarshal to leave, when from the balcony a different broken man who could fly landed.

Jasnah had noticed that afterimage Szeth sometimes left as he moved. According to Taln and Ash, this was because another Herald had revived the man, using a device to reattach the soul, but it only partially worked because he’d almost been too late. Of course, the special device wasn’t readily reproduced. If it were, how easy would it be—to simply stitch the soul back into place. To glue it back on. To adhere…

A different woman held Kaladin’s arm this time. A blinding flash of light, and then the sky overhead was black. He could sense the coldness of the white marble platform at his feet, despite wearing boots.

An iridescent shimmering tower appeared before him. Well..actually it was all around him. Above. On every side. And somehow below. Because it was light without a physical form. It bathed him and his companions with a brilliant glow.

Kaladin could only hope his second visit to Shadesmar, aka the Cognitive Realm, would be less daunting than his first. But unfortunately for him, lately, Hope was acting rather fickle.

Notes:

Prolly made this way to convoluted- and should have written all 5 parts together. I'm sure its repetitive and could all use a hard edit.
Anyhow- wanted to integrate various perspectives- but miss writing about the couple- the last chapter.

There is a real basis to most of the medical stuff, but fiction always trumps accuracy for storytelling.

Chapter 15: Another Oath Part 5 of 5 (E)

Summary:

Finale of Part II of Heaven and Hell

Short sex scene (finally..)
Navani speaks with a familiar person.
Adolin realizes a terrible secret.
Lift is awesome at listening.
Kaladin has a moral dilemma.
Jasnah utilizes all her skills.
Navani looks to the future.

She woke up to the sensation of his lips on her shoulder, as he kissed his way up her neck. He brushed her hair away from her face, and she placed her hand on the back of his head, drawing him in for the kiss. Tongues lightly brushing for the first, then delving inside for the next.
 
Both still naked from the night before, but no longer glowing. He pulled her in close, holding her back snug to his chest. And then he slowly rocked his hips, while she followed his rhythm. They breathed in between kisses, smiling and gazing at each other.
 
For all his adult life, Dalinar Kholin dreamt about holding her like this. Despite so many obstacles, that dream finally came true.
 
She caressed his rough face with delicate fingers, while his hand found its way to her breasts. So soft. So warm. He pressed his lips against hers again and again. How he used to stare at them, wondering how it would feel.
 
It was better than what he could have ever imagined.
 
But did he deserve this happiness? A warlord, responsible for the pain and suffering of so many.
 
Could he accept the imagined forgiveness of the dead? Among those who lived, how many would never forgive?
 
And so as all dreams do, this one came to an end too.
 
He licked his fingers and reached over to touch her - moving in a circular motion. The sounds of her pleasurable moans making him harder.
 
They continued kissing, one pair of hands interlocked to the side. Hers was tiny compared to his, but somehow they fit within another so naturally.
 
Navani draped her leg over his hip. He then switched a hand to his cock, slipping between her folds and teasing her clit with the tip. Her moans turned into giggles in response to this familiar move. He had picked it up from her. Her mischief had rubbed on to him.
 
Good morning, they said without speaking. The audible slick sounds of each stroke did the talking.
 
They were so comfortable with these bodies. Each other’s bodies. This wasn’t just sex. It was a shared intimacy unlike any other.
 
When she was wet enough, she placed her hand over his, and together, they guided him inside her.  And as it did the first time, the fiftieth time, the hundredth time- it felt fucking amazing.  Warm, comforting, exhilarating. Perfect.
 
No lotions. No magic. Nothing else needed to enhance this connection.
 
He slowly began thrusting and she moved her hips in time. With his hand now freed again, he returned to pleasuring her with his fingers.
 
One year - five hundred days of loving each other- was a blessing. In five more months it would have been two.
 
But the world needed to be saved.
 
It’s said that one can have three loves in their lifetime.
 
The first love is intense and all-consuming. Driven by physical attraction. That reckless infatuation between hormonal teenagers.
 
The second love is sometimes called the hard love. You love for the wrong reasons. You don’t know yourself and what you want in life. There is romance and compatibility, but too much drama and conflict. You learn lessons and move on.
 
The third and final love is the love that lasts. You know yourself and your faults. You feel safe and protected enough to reveal them. You accept each other’s imperfections. An unconditional love. A true love, if you are lucky enough to find it.
 
For the Bondsmith couple, their first and third loves were each other. They had been fortunate to be united again later in life, though it had required the deaths of their second loves. Incidentally, she had prayed for it. Incidentally, he had indirectly caused it.   
 
Did either of them deserve their happiness?
 
His thrusts became deeper and more urgent. Their throbbing need escalating. He hastened his fingers’ motions around her nub. She clenched and moved her hips to follow his curve, enjoying every point of contact. The pleasurable tension coiled tighter and tighter with each gasping breath.
 
Right as they climaxed together, he withdrew his hand from her oversensitive flesh. He hugged her to his chest again, breathing in her scent, pausing to enjoy their closeness. She murmured something in her happy delirium. Still recovering from his own release, he had no idea what she said, but he laughed with her anyway. The exact words didn’t matter. He always felt her love.
 
That morning Dalinar Kholin woke up in heaven. But some unseen judge had decided three decades of waiting wasn’t penance enough. Before the end of the day, the former Bondsmith would instead, wake up alone in Hell.
 
--
 
Navani kept running though she acknowledged it was probably futile. This wasn’t a physical location - it wasn’t even the Cognitive Realm. It was something even less tangible. Did distance have any meaning here?
 
But what the fuck else was she supposed to do? Just stand there?
 
She could see the bottom of the hill as she descended. And nearly tripped when her feet slipped forward over the cool blades of golden grass. Would rolling down be faster?
 
It was hard to think. Fear and panic still consumed her.
 
She understood now that she had died - or was at the very least near death. And she could have accepted that. She had a good life. Accomplished so much in one lifetime.
 
But Odium wanted her permanently removed. He had won the contest. Dalinar had died. And her husband’s soul now belonged to the golden god.
 
She couldn’t let him win again. Somehow, her living, could interfere with his plans.
 
But how the hell was she going to return? She had no time to study this place, no understanding of how any of this worked.
 
The view to the valley below continuously stretched before her. She wasn’t getting any closer.
 
Everything around her was painted in gold hues. Truthfully, she hated that color. Too loud and gaudy.
 
The icy air smelled like metal – or was it more like rust? Oxidized iron. Blood in another form.
 
An overwhelming sense of nausea gripped at her. How did that even work? This body wasn’t real. Was it? She stopped for a moment to catch breath and calm her queasiness.
 
And then she flinched so abruptly her neck hurt. “My dear, there’s nowhere to run,” he said softly as he placed a bony hand on her shoulder. The shiver that ran through her thereafter was not from his touch.
 
That voice.
 
She turned around. He was taller than when he was on Roshar because his posture was now impeccable. No more feigning the kindly frail old man.
 
“How?” Her own voice cracked, though she only spoke a single word.
 
“Careful planning and a bit of luck,“ he answered. ”Perhaps, I can be convinced to trade this knowledge in exchange for your compliance?” A casual smile crept across his well-trimmed beard.
 
She recalled being terrified of this man. The way he had fooled all of them and nearly destroyed the coalition. Working for the enemy because he thought it was the only way to survive. A dangerous man now turned god.
 
Somehow though, she felt less afraid.
 
“I know you won’t ever trust me,” Taravangian said plainly. “But I believe you understand me much like I understand you and Dalinar too.”
 
Odium had been an evil unknown entity. But this was Taravangian. And he was right, she knew him. And that helped tamped down her fear.
 
The former king was taller, but he was still shorter than she was.
 
“If you’ve become Odium, then why did you allow the contest to continue?” she asked in a steady voice.
 
“The terms had already been set. It was impossible to withdraw,” he stepped closer to her, but she didn’t shy away. “Even gods can be bound by words.”
 
“But you now have the power to save Roshar. Hasn’t that always been the goal? Why wouldn’t you let us win?”
 
The golden god’s skin glowed brighter, the power within bleeding through, impossible to contain. “Because the true battle is not on Roshar, my dear,” Odium explained. “And we need Dalinar to fight that war with us.”
 
“And you could have told us all of that!” she shouted. “Instead, you kept to your secrets again!”
 
“You wouldn’t have liked my proposal,” he answered, his eyes glinting back, the reflected light briefly blinding her. “Sacrifice the few, so that the many do not suffer,” he said with a sigh. It sounded more exasperated than regretful.  “The path forward will be painful. I might have been able to convince Dalinar, but under the influence of others—” He eyed her accusingly. “He would not have agreed.”
 
Perhaps it wasn’t strange that before the god of anger, Navani felt that emotion bursting inside her. Because what she saw reflected in this man turned god was ego, one of man’s worst flaws. An ego immortal and unchecked.
 
 
”How lonely it must be, Taravangian,“ she scoffed. “When you’re always the smartest person in the room. If the universe is to be ruled by a god like you, then perhaps I am better off dead.”
 
She started her way back down the hill- to no place- but it didn’t matter. She was done talking and just wanted to get away from the man-god. He was distracting her from figuring out how to get back. Why else ---
 
“Navani, before you move on,” he said, interrupting her thoughts- it sounded like he was speaking beside her ear, though she could not feel his breath. “Know that I truly am fond of both you and your husband. Rest assured I will be much kinder to him than my predecessor would have been.”
 
If she had been on Roshar, angerspren would have boiled at her feet. Navani turned around, but there was no god or man she could slap. She looked down at that culpable hand and saw the shadow of an outline.
 
The gold colors drained around her and the light faded along with it. The cold, the smells, the sounds disappeared too.
 
Alone, in the dark, all she could sense was a feeling like she was being pulled again. The instinct was to grab on to something, but her phantom limbs were useless. Nothing was around them. Nothing and no one to hold on to.
 
--
 
Jasnah was certain she had transported Lift over too. But her right hand was empty where a tiny arm should have been.
 
They may not need the Edgedancer anyway. Somebody closer to Honor was more essential, not Cultivation.
 
As if she knew what she was doing.
 
One thing she did know with certainty was that they were running out of time.
 
“Jasnah, there are thousands of souls,” Ivory said. The onyx-colored man then knelt on the ground and passed his hand across a few soul flames, each one representing a person in the Physical Realm. “We should discuss the feasibility of your plan.” 
 
Jasnah didn’t answer him immediately. She searched around her. The abundance of flames wasn’t only present at the ground level. A multitude floated at different heights above them. Urithiru wasn’t as tall in Shadesmar, but there was a relative scale, an approximation of distance that was compressed and reflected. Thousands of soul flames were stacked next to and on top of each other with swarms of emotionspren passing all around them. And encompassing all of that was the iridescent light that formed the shape of the Tower.
 
She then looked below her and suddenly realized what an idiot she might have been. They could have all been killed, dropped into a sea of beads at a great height. Ground became sea in Shadesmar. And the inverse was true.
 
The floating platform they stood on must represent a body of water somewhere inside the Tower. She had not recalled hitting the ground with much force. Perhaps this was a protective mechanism within the Tower when there was a need for an emergent escape.
 
It had drawn them to this specific location- but it also meant their relative position had shifted, and they were no longer close to her mother’s soul.”
 
“Highmarsh—“ she said. “Bright—” she started again. “Kaladin,” she finally said. She couldn’t even get a simple title right. Brightlord or highmarshal were appropriate, but he disliked the former, and technically had resigned his military title. “Navani’s soul flame will be located near the top of the Tower, can you start your search there?” Jasnah asked, then crossed her arms, which steadied her trembling hands.
 
“I should be able to find it quickly,” he replied. “I think I can even spot it from here.” The Windrunner checked his spherepouch and was glad to see that most of his spheres were still infused. There wouldn’t be any way to recharge them on this side.
 
“How is that?” Ivory asked.
 
“It’s where all the agonyspren have gathered.”
                         
“Agonyspren?” Jasnah whispered.
 
In Shadesmar those sprens’ upside down stone faces were attached to a insect-like body with four black spiked claws for legs. And like all spren on this side they had the ability to move through air and reach the targets mirrored in the Physical Realm.
 
A few of the creatures flew passed her to join the others, making a buzzing noise from their gaping mouths. Sure enough, near the top of the crystal Tower of light, a dark spot stood out where a large swarm had gathered.
 
Kaladin’s observation would save them time. But why hadn’t it been obvious to her?
 
An image flashed in her mind-  the agonyspren skittering around her mother’s body, nearly covering its entirety. She had blocked it out. Jasnah gritted her teeth and pinched her arm, casting out the pain again.
 
“Jasnah, what are you planning? Why did you bring me here?” Kaladin asked.
 
“This is the only way to save her. Once you collect her soul flame, meet me near the bottom of the Tower.”  
 
Stormlight wisped around Jasnah’s hands and stairs made from stone formed from the air at the edge of their current platform, spiraling downwards.
 
“You haven’t expl—"
 
“Please,” she said curtly, and then started her descent with Ivory following.
 
Kaladin looked to Syl, but the blue-colored honorspren merely shook her head and shrugged, equally clueless.
 
The Windrunner did not look back after he began lashing himself up. If he had, he might have noticed the little man made of vines, who was hidden behind Syl’s long skirt.
 
“Ancient Daughter,” Wyndle said in a low voice. He didn’t startle her, in fact, when she turned to the cultivatinospren, she was rather amused. The green man’s beard of vines was as long as his entire body. Would he trip on it when he walked?
 
“How long were you going to stay hidden?” she asked. “Tell me on the way. We’ve been told to hurry.”
 
Wyndle gathered his beard in one arm as he scurried behind the taller woman. He was long overdue for a pruning.  
 
Syl pursed her lips, slightly disappointed. Everything was so gloomy. Her father was dead. Dalinar was dead. Navani was dead-ish. A little levity- a funny fall- might do everyone a bit of good.
 
“Ancient Daughter,” Wyndle repeated again. “What her highness is planning…it’s not right. You must convince them to stop.”
 
“I’m sure Kaladin will do the right thing,” Syl confidently answered.
 
“The right thing for one is not necessarily the right thing for another,” Wyndle said. “Do you—"
 
“A-ha!” a little girl’s voice interrupted the conversation, projecting loudly close from the cultivationspren’s mouth. Lift, as small as a diamond sphere, had wrapped both her arms around two strands of his viny beard with her feet supported atop a tangled knot.
 
“Mistress!” Wyndle cried, carefully sorting through his beard with his fingers to find her.
 
“I’ve finally got you now, lousy voidbringer,” Lift said accusingly, her own finger pointed back at him as he placed her on the palm of his green hand. “Conspiring against us!”
 
“Oh no, never! “Wyndle replied. “You might even agree with me…. For once,” he said dolefully.
 
 ---
 
Adolin loosened the collar of his uniform, then wiped the sweat from his forehead again with its sleeve. Normally, he’d be armored in Plate with a sweat rag placed inside the helm to wick off the moisture. But few things were normal today.
 
He gripped Maya tightly in one hand. He had been able to coil her around  herself. It seemed she was at least capable of adjusting her length for his purpose, because she was shorter now than he would expect given the distance they had traveled. It meant that their connection was intact. Even so, Adoiln was too afraid to dismiss her, concerned he wouldn’t be able to summon her again.
 
They had made it to the lowest floor and, thanks to the Sibling’s guidance, quickly located the stairwell Malata was descending. As soon as the Dustbringer heard his footsteps, she turned heel to enter the nearest entryway on the third floor.
 
The chase continued into a maze of corridors. Malata of course was annoyingly fast, gliding across the ground effortlessly. But one of the principles of war was knowledge of the terrain. And the Tower was Adolin’s newfound home.
 
It was easy to become lost inside the vastness of Urithiru, and frankly impossible to memorize the layout of its hundreds of floors. The clues came from the lines in the walls, which Shallan had pointed out to him. Before him, alternating earth colors, twisted into lines and layered in the strata. Adolin knew exactly where they were.
 
Up ahead, Malata passed by the faded painting. The one with that depicted mythical creatures, though he had not recalled its name the first time he visited. It now occurred to him- a lion, wasn’t it? A dangerous animal.
 
The space in here was tight, but the line of sight within this corridor was long and unbroken- this would be his best shot- if she turned the corner, there’d be too many intersections further on.
 
Adolin brandished Maya like a whip, which really was terrible as a weapon. It was better suited for use on an animal, commanding it to stop and go. But it had a good reach, and his two other weapons were only effective in close combat.
 
Maybe it could at least injure her enough to make her stumble, and he could catch up. Or could it possibly grapple her leg?  He’d just have to try something. Adolin extended his arm far behind him, then threw the vine in a wide arc.
 
And missed by a foot from his target. On the return, the end of the vine looped and snapped back in the air with enough velocity to make a cracking sound.
 
Malata ducked down and screamed. A pool of violet globs manifested from her feet- fearsprean crawling up from the ground.
 
What the--? Adolin thought as he continued charging forward. He raised Maya up again in his hand.
 
The Dustbringer turned around to face her enemy. Then froze for a moment with wide eyes. She took a few panicked steps away, but then uncharacteristically clumsily slipped.
 
“No, no, no!” she shouted, scrambling backwards on the ground.
 
Adolin, puzzled, slowed his pace. He did not throw his weapon again, but kept her ready.
 
Was this another trap?
 
As he cautiously neared, Malata put her arms across her face in a defensive posture.
 
“Please don’t whip me! Please don’t whip me!” she cried with her eyes closed.  “I promise I won’t run. I won’t run anymore.”
 
He could see her body trembling, and then the highprince recognized the brand that began to appear on his enemy’s forehead. The same one his friend had recently healed from.
 
Shash. Dangerous.
 
And this former slave was very dangerous.
 
Two of his soldiers were dead. His wife barely managed to survive. Lift too. Malata was also likely responsible for his aunt’s sudden illness.
 
“Stay still,” he ordered.
 
He proceeded to tie Maya around his prisoner’s torso and wrists, all the while considering how easy it might be for the Dustbringer to slip out of these bonds. That is, once she recovered from her shock.
 
Adolin recognized that traumatic look in his enemy’s eyes. The same he’d seen in soldiers who could no longer fight.
 
He did feel pity, but that wasn’t the main reason he no longer wanted to kill her.
 
The seething knot had dissipated. Because despite how they had suffered, he had been able to save his wife. And Lift was alive, so they still had a chance to save his aunt.
 
They also needed to interrogate Malata and find out more about the enemy. They needed that information to negotiate for peace.
 
But he also needed a way to prevent an escape with Abrasion. Even if he removed all of the infused spheres on them, it was likely they’d pass by a Stormlit fixture on the way back, and she could easily steal its light.
 
With Lift, Malata had used a special metal collar to suppress her powers to subdue her – as well as removed all her limbs.
 
Adolin had a special device too. It also gave him the ability to permanently take away the Dustbringer’s powers. His aunt had entrusted it to him. Before he made his descent, he had already inserted a gemstone filled with Anti-Stormlight.
 
He could see Spark hovering nearby, appearing like a branching crack in mid-air, trailing smoke behind him. Ever since his return from Shadesmar and the trials at Lasting Integrity, true spren were more frequently visible to Adolin.
 
Carefully, he took the Raysium dagger from his belt and pierces its tip into flesh. The side of thigh was less likely to cause damage to major nerves and vessels, though he’d likely have to assist her in walking.
 
“My aunt taught us if anti-Light meets its corresponding Light, they not only cancel each other out, but they sometimes cause an explosion.”
 
Malata let out a strained grunt as Adolin removed the dagger from the thigh. The wound bled through slightly.
 
“We haven’t tested this on a Radiant yet, but you probably know what would happen,” he said. “And though I may not be a Radiant, I am very handy with a tourniquet.”
 
The captive grimaced as she limped along with her captor. As they passed by that same painting again, Adolin noted how the lion wasn’t alone. He was co-existing with all the other creatures around him. At least in this imaginary depiction.
 
“What are you going to do with us?” Malata asked assertively. The slave brand had disappeared from her forehead.
 
“Lift is going to heal my aunt,” he said. “We want peace. Her death will not solve anything. There must be another way. Help us understand each other.”
 
“That little urchin can take a beating,” she remarked. “But it’ll take more than amputating my leg to get me to talk.”
 
“You don’t have to speak to me. Jasnah would want to understand too.”
 
Malata eyed Adolin skeptically, then continued walking in front of him without another word. And though she kept to her silence, her spren spoke.
 
“Young man,” the ashpren said in an unusually soft voice. “I thank you for not harming me.”
 
“You may have chosen to bond with her, but you’re not responsible for Malata’s actions,” Adolin explained.
 
The spren settled onto the vines roped around Malata’s back. It made it seem like small portal had appeared.
 
“You seem kind,” he added. “I am very curious about you and your deadeye.”
 
“If I could earn your trust, may—"
 
“But you are naïve,” the ashspren interrupted, his voice thundering loudly.
 
“Not naïve, Spark,” Malata contended. “Ignorant.”
 
“Aye,” he said in agreement before continuing. “Did you know that Horneaters have singer blood? That is why their teeth are strong enough to eat shells.”
 
Was that why their hair was red like the singers too? Adolin briefly thought. But this must have happened thousands and thousands of years ago.
 
“But you have never met a singer-human child. Isn’t that so, my lord?” Spark asked. From the side view, Adolin could see Malata’s jaw clench. She walked faster, though it didn’t get her farther away from the conversation.
 
Truthfully, he had never given it any thought. He was raised and taught to govern a princedom and fight wars with other men. The singers that mattered to him were the parshmen slaves, incredibly valuable assets because they did all their labor. Mindlessly obeyed without question. Better than a human slave or even a domesticated animal.
 
“Once you understand the reason for that, then you will know why we ashspren chose this side. Why the Skybreakers seek justice. And you will realize how empty all your words would be. Because wounds that deep never heal.”
 
A few moments ago, Adolin had felt good about his actions. Unlike the last time he was here, he didn’t choose to be judge and executioner as he had with Sadeas. His father would have been proud.
 
But now, an abundant number of white and red petals of shamepsren fluttered around him.
 
Implying relations with the parsh and parshmen lineage was the butt of so many jokes- told by commoners and highborns alike. A joke about rape. Because the parsh could not consent or resist.
 
And although the Alethi did have steep punishments for rape of any being, a hybrid parsh-human would only serve as evidence of a crime committed.
 
How would someone avoid detection? The most logical thing to do- the Alethi way- would be to destroy the evidence.
 
--
 
Is it terribly difficult for you? Living with the rest of us, suffering our average wits and simple thoughts? Is it lonely to be so singular in your brilliance, Jasnah?
 
Her father had said this to her in their last conversation.
 
Currently, Jasnah didn’t feel particularly brilliant, but her father was right. She never had the patience to converse with anyone of simple intelligence. It made her a terrible teacher. She could only tolerate the companionship of a few persons. And that number was dwindling.
 
Hoid, Wit, Cephandrius- or whatever the hell he was going by nowadays, had left too. He had a matter of greater importance to the cosmere to meddle in, but as usual was light on the details.
 
Life as a hermit could have suited her, but she was too much like her parents. Ambitious. Wanting to change the world. And much more like her father. Preferring to enforce her vision onto others. Was it her fault that she was right nearly all of the time?
 
But when the Azish agreed to the alliance, it was her mother’s essay and not hers that convinced them. Because Navani, the former Queen of Alethkar, was the better negotiator.
 
Her mother also represented the old order. And change was destined whether or not the current regime liked it or not. Her mother could help build that bridge.
 
Their world still needed Navani Kholin in it. A Bondsmith to unite them.
 
That’s how Jasnah would rationalize all this.
 
“Would you like me to repeat the opposing arguments?” Ivory asked.
 
“That won’t be necessary,” she replied to the spren that chose her. It was fortunate that she enjoyed his company since he would always be by her side. It helped that the two logic-driven beings often agreed on things, However, to prepare to debate anyone else, the other would argue the dissenting opinion.
 
As they walked down the final spiral turn of stairs, Jasnah locked eyes with the cultivationspren. But the bearded green man darted away his immediately.
 
They stood next to the central pillar at the base of Urithiru. Syl and Wyndle had been slower to arrive, as Syl would stop and check Kal’s progress above, and the tall steps were difficult for the rather short spren to descend, especially while holding his beard.
 
“So Lift made it here after all,” Jasnah said. She could see the Edgedancer’s diminutive form atop Wyndle’s generous beard.
 
“And it’s a good thing too,” Lift said. She then leaped from that viny nest and grew exponentially  larger much like some spren could do in the Physical Realm. She was almost the same size as her usual physical self, minus a few years younger. “You’re going to need a tiebreaker. And--”
 
“But Mistress, there are six of us?” Wyndle meekly decried, looking up to the young child who was now a few inches taller.
 
“Your vote doesn’t count, Voidbringer.” Lift asserted.
 
“And if you could have changed your size, why did you ride on my beard?” he asked with a slightly crooked frown. The vines seldom matched up perfectly.
 
“Quit your complaints, whinyspren. If you would let me finish, we each get one vote between a Radiant and a spren. Otherwise, since we are all paired as twos, we’d always end up in a tie.” The cultivationspren’s eyes widened in disbelief.
 
“That.. that actually makes sense. Have you been paying attention to his Majesty Yanagawn’s lessons?”
 
“Why are you so surprised? I’m great at listening,” Lift said beaming. “And if you quit talking and worrying so much, you might actually learn something from me.”
 
The cultivationspren opened his bearded mouth to respond, but properly chastened, said nothing.
 
“And Wyndle and I both think we should ask the Sibling before proceeding,” Lift added.
 
They hadn’t actually discussed together, but Lift had listened to his explanation to Syl as they made their way down those stairs. And apparently she did indeed agree with him…for once.
 
--
 
As Kaladin neared the agonyspren gathering, the buzzing noise was replaced with something else. Something worse.
 
The first voice he heard was Harl’s, a man from his village. His daughter had died. Miasal was the first patient, the first person Kaladin failed. The wailing of a parent losing a child.
 
As they feasted, the corner of the mouths of the sprens turned downwards, but because their faces were upside down, they looked instead like laughing smiles.
 
His own voice joined the wailing chorus. Although he did not recognize it at first. But he felt that same emptiness, disbelief and pain. Clinging to his brother’s dead corpse in that hollow. The agony.
 
He pushed his way through the agonspren swarm. They didn’t fight back, as drunk as they were from their feeding.
 
He passed his hand through a few of the soul flames along the way.  One of the Windrunner guards, Shallan, Renarin and even his father. Each time a brief glimpse of a shared moment with that person appeared in his mind.
 
Mela, the guard, shaking his hand, thanking him for accepting her into the Order.
 
Clinging onto Shallan in the chasms when the highstorm hit, hunched against a slippery rockwall.
 
Laughing with Renarin, who rarely smiled, around the campfire enjoying Rock’s stew.
 
His father, speaking to him after Miasal died.
 
You have to learn when to care, son. And when to let go. You’ll grow calluses.
 
And there were so many times in which Kaladin wanted to be armored in nothing but calluses. He found himself wishing that Syl were next to him. Not as a weapon, but as his friend. A different kind of armor.
 
He found the soul flame he was looking for though it took a much longer time for him to verify it, for a vision to appear before him.
 
She had wanted to know how her son had died and asked him not to spare her the details. And although tears crested from her eyes and a few agonyspren appeared, Navani had maintained her composure.
 
After that vision faded, and as Kaladin carried Navani’s soul flame away, he recalled something from his own memory, the conversation he overhead as he left that room.
 
I’m so sorry. Dalinar had said. What can I do?
 
Between her sobs, she had told him, Hold me. Please don’t leave me yet.
 
His reply was as soft as a whisper, but somehow Kaladin had heard it very clearly.
 
I’ll stay, he had answered. For as long as I can, my gemheart.
 
---
 
“I don’t think I can do it,” Kaladin said to Jasnah.
 
He stood with the rest of them on the stone platform that the Elsecaller had Soulcasted. Beside him was a glimmering column of light, about the height of a tall human, which represented the Sibling’s crystal pillar, its heart, in this realm.
 
The wailing voices from the agonyspren still unnerved him. His palms sweaty were still sweaty. But, it didn’t affect his hold on Navani’s soul flame. He was already using Adhesion to keep it in place since it tended to drift away, probably to return to the mirror location of its physical body.
 
“Your reports from Shinovar indicate you saw it done,” Jasnah argued. “’See one. Do one. Teach one.’ One of the core tenets of Medicine, is it not?”
 
“But Ishar was a Bondsmith. And I’m not even a surgeon.”
 
Indeed, Kaladin had seen Ishar attach a soul back to its own body. It was probably similar to how Szeth had been brought back. Reviving anyone from near death was certainly not going to be easy. And Jasnah was asking for something even more complicated. Because Navani had been too close to death for too long.
 
“You are the closest thing we have to both. And if Navani dies, we won’t have any Bondsmiths.”
 
Radiants had healed her mother, but after each time, she became ill again and nearly died. Lift was only able to restore the body. This is why her soul flame was so weak. The reason why the vision to verify her identify took time to manifest. Her soul was disappearing from this realm.
 
Jasnah theorized that her mother’s soul flame could be prevented from escaping if it was attached to something invested with great power. Great enough to resist the pull and keep it in this Realm. And the Sibling could actually produce its own Light. All they needed was someone with the Adhesion, Honor’s Truest Surge, to do the deed. As there were no Bondsmiths at their disposal, their most capable Windrunner would have to suffice- Kaladin Stormblessed.
 
He would “only” have to reinforce their bond. There was already one in place between Navani and the Tower spren.
 
But Kal didn’t only believe he couldn’t do it. He didn’t think he should.
 
“The Sibling could choose another Bondsmith.”
 
“No, child of Honor, they won’t,” Ivory replied. The inkspren stood with perfect posture, hands clasped behind his back, next to his Radiant. “They will sleep again and had warned other spren to prepare. They have considered ending the current bond on their own.“
 
“And if that is their decision, shouldn’t it be honored?” Wyndle interjected. Though he was small in stature, his voice was low - lower than how it sounded in the Physical realm. It lent him a degree of gravitas. “Mistress Lift and I believe we should ask for the Sibling’s permission before proceeding.”
 
Appeal to the surgeon.
 
“Not wise,” Ivory countered. “They are too distressed to make the logical decision.”
 
“Kaladin,” Jasnah began. “When a solider requires an amputation to live. Can you accept his decision to refuse when he is delirious from blood loss? His mind consumed with pain. Can you trust them to make a life and death decision? Permit them to choose an irreversible outcome? Or do you save them, bear their anger and help them live on?”
 
In reality, from Kaladin’s experience, the soldier was often too wounded or hysterical to respond coherently. Assumptions were made. Technically, the commanding officer authorized the procedure, if no one else could. Their name stamp was imprinted onto the medical record. It was a responsibility that Kaladin had never been burdened with- because in a world of Radiants, healing restored everything. At least everything physical.
 
“But we always ask,” Kaladin insisted. “We assess if they are capable of making a decision first.”
 
“If we ask the Sibling, they may break the bond completely,” Ivory said.
 
“Because by reinforcing it,” Wyndle asserted. “It could remove their ability to end the bond on their own. It is unnatural to force an unwanted bond.”
 
Unnatural? Kaladin thought. A bond was a covenant between two entities. A third party coercing a connection? What right would they have to shackle the others together? Unnatural was too delicate a word. It was a violation. With his free hand, Kaladin swept aside the hair from his forehand and briefly envisioned the scars that used to be there.
 
“Surgeons ascribed to another tenet. ‘First, do no harm.’ You’re asking me to hurt someone to save someone else. I’m sorry... I can’t do it.”
 
Appeal to the brother.
 
“The Sibling may be several millennia old,” Ivory said. “But like many spren, they behave like children. They act on whims. They need guidance from their fellow Radiant. With each new bond, they learn and relearn human ideals. Ideals like patience, benevolence and sacrifice.”
 
Kaladin turned to Syl who held her blue chin in her hand, brow furrowed- face locked in deep concentration. She was light-hearted and whimsical by nature, but over the past two years he’d increasingly find her in an unusually pensive moment. Brooding would be a stretch too far- that description suited Kaladin more.
 
“A family in poverty is starving,” Jasnah stated. “One of the children becomes ill. Do you ask permission from his siblings to purchase medicine instead of food? Or, as a parent, do you make the hard decision for them?”
 
Like her mother, Jasnah had researched into the Windrunner’s background. It wasn’t only because of her customary paranoia- but anyone with direct and nearly unrestricted access to her family needed to be investigated.
 
A dead younger brother. A life in poverty in Heartstone. A surgeon’s son.
 
From his silence, she could tell that her argument had an effect. She continued.
 
Appeal to the former slave.
 
“I plan to sign an order to free all Alethi slaves tomorrow regardless of today’s chaos.”
 
“What?” Kaladin whispered in surprise.
 
“The highprinces will condemn me. I may lose the crown and my authority. But my mother has the political capital and skills to appeal to them. I need—” she bit her lip. “We need her support for the upcoming revolution.”
 
Lift who had been listening intently with eyes closed and arms crossed, nodded vigorously in agreement. Even Wyndle pursed his green lips, intrigued.
 
Appeal to the Radiant.
 
“More than that, we need control of the Tower. If we lose the bond. And the Sibling is then deceived. If they choose the wrong person - we won’t only lose our new home, but any chance we have to effect any change.”
 
“Kal,” Jasnah said as she stepped closer to him. With two hands, she gently grasped his arm holding the soul flame. He was a head taller than her, but she wasn't the one who was initimidated. There was a suggested intimacy to her gesture that made him rather nervous.
 
“My mother is the best person to bond the Sibling. Her knowledge of fabrials. Her skills as a negotiator. Her ability to unite others. You’ve known her as someone who does not desire conquest. She simply wants peace.” She squeezed his arm. He blushed. “’Life before death. Strength before weakness. Journey before destination.’ All of us here, including my mother spoke those words. Her journey as a Bondsmith has only begun. We need to lend her our strength. We need her to live.”
 
Though her voice was clear and steady, she was close enough to him, that he could see the passion glimmering through her pale violet eyes.
 
Kaladin disliked the light-eyed beauty standard- or rather he had tried to- out of principle. But Jasnah Kholin was an unequivocally, extraordinarily beautiful woman. Her face. Her figure. Her intelligence.
 
She was bewitching.
 
And dangerous.
 
Under her rule, who could challenge her if both Dalinar and Navani were gone?
 
Kal turned to Syl for guidance. They would need to agree on a decision together.
 
“Syl?”
 
The blue honorspren removed her hand from her chin and placed both clasped in front of her instead. She gripped them tightly together, as if trying to lend herself strength.
 
“Without my father, there is no highstorm. No Stormlight. We’re doomed if the Sibling returns to sleep. We need their Towerlight. We should reinforce the bond.”
 
“Stormfather!” Wyndle gasped, “Is he truly dead?”
 
“Very likely,” Ivory said. “We should not assume on his survival.”
 
Appeal to the man.
 
“Kal, please,” Jasnah entreated. “She is running out of time. We must do this now.” A single tear cascaded down her cheek. “Please…” she repeated with quivering lips. They were unpainted, but their fullness apparent without added color. Could anyone on Roshar be as beautiful as she?
 
He was nearly defeated, but there was one more impasse.
 
“Wha-at if..” Kaladin said with a stutter. “What if Navani wants to pass on? Dalinar’s death caused her illness. She’ll be heartbroken again if she returns. If there is an afterlife, then she can be reunited with him.”
 
Appeal to love.
 
Only a few of them had known. They had yet to explain it to even Adolin or Shallan.
 
“Dalinar is not dead,” Jasnah revealed. “Odium has his soul. To serve as one of his Fused. My mother knew this. He’s immortal. If she passes on, they may never see each other again.”
 
Dalinar, a Fused? Alive, but working for the enemy?
 
No time to process this.  
 
Kaladin took a deep breath, taking in Stormlight at the same time, then placed his free hand over the light pillar.
 
See one. Do one. Teach one.
 
He despised that saying. It undervalued the importance of honing a skill through repeat observation and practice. But it was intended to give courage to the apprentice surgeon for their first operation. Because sometimes the teacher is not available. And some procedures are so uncommon, the opportunity to see it done more than once is scarce.
 
Kaladin closed his eyes, trying to recall how Ishar had done it. It was more than just pressing two objects together.
 
Stormlight gathered around his hands, when suddenly he felt a terrible emptiness as awful as the first time he killed someone on the battlefield. His eyes snapped open.
 
“I.. I can’t sense her anymore.”
 
Jasnah stared at Kaladin’s hand.
 
Navani’s soul flame was no longer visible.
 
---
 
Who would ever refuse everlasting peace?
 
No pain. No worries. No grief.
 
She felt the same comfort that one would feel immersed in a warm bath. Like a babe inside the womb. Protected.
 
“Mother,” a voice faintly called out.
 
Could it be Elhokar? His true self this time?
 
“Mother!”
 
But it was a child’s voice.
 
“Please! Let me go!” she had screamed.
 
“Please God.”
 
“Please. Not my mommy.”
 
Navani had heard her little girl cry for her on the day of Elhokar’s birth, when she had nearly bled to death. But it had been buried under the happy memories of holding her son in her arms.
 
But Jasnah, her little machine, could never forget it. She’d never forget how helpless she felt then, and how helpless she felt now.
 
She had failed. They had killed her. They had killed all of them.
 
She was alone.
 
And yet, she hugged Kaladin’s empty clenched hand to her chest, refusing to acknowledge what her eyes had seen.
 
If air could be invisible but present. Why not a soul?
 
A connection could bring her back. Their bond. Their Connection.
 
Jasnah recalled her most powerful memories with her mother.
 
Bad ones intermingled with the good.
 
Their morning braiding ritual. Her father’s funeral. The day they were reunited, after they had thought Jasnah was dead.
 
Tears flowed freely down the former princess’s face. It was time to stop acting like a machine. And let herself feel everything.
 
“I need you,” she whispered in a frail voice. “Please come back to me.”
 
Who refuses everlasting peace?
A mother.
A mother never stops worrying about their baby, even after they are grown.
 
The light surrounding them- the light of the Tower - began to glow brightly - it was near blinding. Through closed eyelids you could still see its presence. A noise like thunder. Then a flash of heat.
 
And for a few seconds it became dark again. As if the power had been switched off and on again.
 
When Kaladin opened his eyes Jasnah was no longer holding on to him. She was looking up at the dark sky of Shadesmar, though there was no obvious focus. But then he felt it too- drops of liquid fell onto his face.
 
Rain?
 
There were no clouds above them- so where was its source? Maybe he should investigate.
 
He sucked in some Storm—
 
Shit.
 
Kal checked his sphere pouch only to find that everything was dun. Across from him, Jasnah shook her head with an opened satchel in her arms.
 
Fuck.
 
To get back home, they needed to get to the Oathgates which was on a pillar in the middle of the sea of beads. Jasnah would have been able to Soulcast a bridge with Stormlight. And if Kaladin could fly, he could have returned first and come back with support or infused spheres.
 
They were stranded on top of a platform in the middle of the air.
 
“Well, if we are going to be here for a while,” Lift said. “The first thing we should decide is who gets eaten first.”
 
--
 
She woke up next to his body.
 
It was cold, but it still smelled like him. Renarin’s uniform jacket was draped across her shoulders which helped her feel a bit warmer. When she opened her eyes briefly, the concerned face of her nephew appeared before her.
 
“Let me sit here with him a while longer,” she told him.
 
“Of course, Aunt Navani.” Renarin then squeezed her hand and let go. She hadn’t noticed he had been holding it.
 
A hug would have been better…
 
Greedy old woman, she thought. Too accustomed to getting what she wants..
 
But of course, not always everything.
 
She wrapped both arms around him and buried her face into his chest. Then let out a great sigh. She would miss this body. It was so familiar to her. And it had brought her so much joy.
 
But in spite of her age, change never bothered Navani Kholin, the curious scientist. Discoveries always excited her. And so, she genuinely wondered, what did he look like now? She hoped he wouldn’t be too tall because it would be more challenging to kiss him.
 
It would be years before Navani would recover all her memories from this day. The physical wounds healed, but her mind had nearly been torn from her. It was frankly a blessing that she only suffered a bit of amnesia when she returned.
 
Her husband’s transition would not be as painless.
 
--
 
“His body will not be Soulcasted?” Kadash asked incredulously.
 
“Dalinar did not want to be memorialized,” Navani explained. ”No monuments.”
 
Kings and queens, wealthy light-eyes and Radiants were transformed into stone after their death. Their immortal bodies placed on exhibit to honor and worship.
 
But a statue of a fallen king might spark a thirst for revenge. And Dalinar had died to give everyone a chance for peace.
 
“And the body is to be burnt then?”
 
She nodded.
 
Burned into ash like his first wife had been. And the people of Rathalas. Because a monument to a warlord and murderer might only inspire hate.
 
“He wanted me to ask you, if you would read his funeral rites.”
 
The middle-aged ardent rubbed the back of his scarred head. He was a slave and now belonged to his master’s widow. She could order him if she wanted to.
 
“Are you saying that Dalinar believed in the Church? In the end?”
 
“Honestly, I’m not sure what he believed,” Navani conceded. ”But you are his comrade and his good friend. And that is enough.”
 
“Brightness,” he said. “I’d be honored.”
 
He extended his hand, palm up, which Navani took in between hers, the black safehand sleeve from her dress draping over them. And they gently shook on it.
 
--
 
The citizens of Urithiru marveled at their queen’s resilience. Only a few knew the truth of those hours after the contest. It had been the same all those years ago when Gavilar had died. People found her sturdiness comforting.
 
And why should she grieve? Though she would wear black for the remainder of this life, she wasn’t truly a widow, despite how hard her husband had tried to convince her.
 
He belonged to Odium now. A slave to an evil god, who’s plans no longer included returning to Roshar. Dalinar would literally be worlds away from her. How could he be her husband under these terms? He should be dead to her.
 
But it had been impossible to convince her of that.
 
So instead, on their balcony in Urithiru, he had asked her to swear another oath. It was the same words she spoke to him only ten days ago, when he had asked her, “What would I do if you were gone?”
 
Live on, protect our family, our people, the world. And keep me fondly in your memory.
 
And he hoped this second oath could release her from him.
 
He couldn’t have known that she’d become trapped on Roshar anyway. Her soul bonded to the Tower spren in a prison of her own.
 
Bu there was one thing he did know about his wife. He had said it himself.
 
She was good at getting what she wants.
 
And so, whether he had asked her to swear another oath or another ten oaths. It didn’t matter. Because only the rights oaths held meaning to her.
 
When they burned his body at the top of the Tower, she tilted her head up, not to behold the height of the flames, but to look above them, up towards the night sky.
 
She had little expertise in astronomy, but she knew whom to ask.
 
And there it was. A glowing tiny orange dot, the size of the head of a nail. Currently about fifty million miles away. The distance varied as each planet traversed along their orbits. It would require a bit of math to recalculate it as they did. Not at all difficult for the engineer who loved numbers.  
 
She would find a way. Whether through science, or magic, or faith- or all of them combined.
 
But it took her longer than she would have liked. She truly was not a patient woman. More time than the number of years she waited to chase after him across the Shattered Plains.
 
Going to Hell should be easier.  
 
It would be another decade before Dalinar Kholin could once again wake up in heaven, holding her in his arms. Their bodies would look different but it would be them.
 
The same two souls. Bound together by their oaths. By choice. By love.

Notes:

So glad the last part is done! The chapter became way to complex...aka convoluted
And I am going to cheese out and do a timeskip into Part III as already implied.

About Parshman and humans breeding
In Part I Chapter 3-Dalinar makes a joke about orange blood with a dueler.
In Part II Chapter 3- I added back in a deleted sentence where Torol tells an inappropriate joke when Navani reminisces about their first group outing.
Given that they cannot enter mateform, I doubt many children were born- but that doesn't mean rape and abuse would not occur.
I'm only going to touch on the generational trauma that the parshmen slaves endure- because it's too complex a topic and deserves a lot more attention than this romance story about 2 people could give it

If I had more time- I'd double check the consistency- but I'd prefer move on to Part III.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Heaven and Hell: Journal of Navani Kholin