#BOW BEFORE QUEEN KHOLIN

[inolienkiki]

“is it just me or does [2D villain] from [media of questionable quality] seem aromantic? It’s so notable how they never have interest in anyone… and the narrative says they haven’t felt love…”

yes. my sibling. yes. this is not speculation, this is not even fanon. this is intentional. this character is Evil. this character is Inhuman. and they Do Not Feel Love.

I understand looking for representation in villains because sometimes that’s the only place we can get it. Hell, I mostly look for representation in kids, and then get punched in the face for it (thanks Mystery of Aaravos ._.)

But let’s remember that we can be beautiful and empathetic and whole people without love. And hopefully characters can be too.

[moash]

a few years ago i actually wrote the beginning of a fic where taravodium drops moash like a potato if anyone wants to see it 🥺👉👈

tw for suicide baiting and self harm

It took a while for Odium to finally speak with him. Moash expected it to come soon after the failure at Urithiru, but it did not. A day passed with no word. He wondered if Odium waited because he was so displeased with Moash’s failures, but he was not capable of feeling anxious about it. He just waited patiently for Odium to come to him.

When the Everstorm came, Moash stepped out into the storm. The wind and rain whipped at his face and clothes, but he was not afraid. He was not capable of being afraid. Thunder sounded in the distance, but he could no longer see the flashes of red lightning that came before them.

The loss of his sight did not bother him—as nothing was capable of bothering him, of course—but he did consider it to be a tactical disadvantage. He did not know why neither stormlight nor voidlight had cured him. His eyes had regrown from the charred hollows they’d been, but his new eyes did not work. He figured the affliction was special in some way due to the Kholin woman’s bond to the tower spren. The root of the injury did not concern him. Odium would fix it when they spoke again.

Even if he was angry with Moash, he would not leave him this way.

Suddenly the rain and wind disappeared. The air was dry and warm around him.

Vyre, Odium addressed him, and Moash turned to the direction of his voice and bowed. Tell me of what happened at the tower.

Something was off about his voice, but Moash could not place it. It was not his place to question Odium. He started his account of what had transpired at Urithiru. The fault for the failure laid with the Pursuer and the Lady of Wishes.

Lezian had ignored his order not to touch Kaladin and had thus been killed once again, ruining the trap Odium and Moash had laid for Kaladin in the process.

Raboniel had betrayed them, delaying her research of the crystal pillar to scheme with the human queen. She chose in her last moments to defend Navani Kholin from him, and he would have hated her for denying him justice, if he could.

Moash had nothing to fear from telling the truth. The fault was not his, and he could not feel afraid regardless.

You lay the blame at the feet of my Fused?

“I tell the events as they happened,” Moash said. “It is not my fault.”

Odium hummed in consideration, and then Moash realized what was wrong with his voice.

Yet you were tasked with this job, Odium said, and Moash listened carefully. Does not part of the responsibility for its failure rest with you?

He had not spoken to the rhythms.

Though Moash could not see the god who sat before him, as Odium spoke Moash could tell the figure that sat on the throne before him was human, not singer. He was not Odium.

How was that possible?

Though your account of the betrayals of my Fused are not without merit. Both Lezian the Pursuer and Raboniel Lady of Wishes are dead now and beyond my questioning. I must rely on—

“Who are you?” Moash said suddenly, interrupting Odium mid-sentence. He stood from his position on his knees to face the false Odium standing tall.

Odium did not answer for a moment, but Moash did not doubt himself in the absence of an answer. He was beyond doubts.

I am your master, Odium said. I am the one who takes your pain, who feels your passions. You serve me.

“I do not serve you,” Moash said.

Instantly the air shifted. Moash fell to his knees gasping as his pain returned to him. Teft…

“Take it back!” he yelled. “I— I do serve you! I’m—” He gasped for air.

Odium merely hummed again, a flat disappointed human tone. I still have much to learn. What was it that gave me away?

Moash could not answer. “Please,” he begged through tears. Everything hurt. “Take it back. I was wrong. You are my master. I serve you.”

No.

“No?”

No. I have no use for you, Odium continued. I cannot comprehend what Rayse saw in you, but to me, you are utterly useless.

What was it that you told Kaladin Stormblessed? There was one path to freedom for him. You had found the better path.

“No,” Moash whimpered. “Please…”

Now you have walked that path to its end. You gave your pain to me. You were almost perfect. Unchained. Only one thing held you back.

Moash shook his head. “I am… I could be unchained.”

But I have no need of you, and so that path is closed to you now. Tell me, will you seek freedom still? How long will it take you to find the other path?

Then the rain began again. Moash was on his knees, cold to his core. Fear lanced through him with each thunder crack.

He was alone with himself.

“Wretched, wretched, wretched…” he muttered under his breath, raking his nails hard against the skin on the back of his neck.

He waited for lightning to strike him. He screamed himself hoarse, begging Odium for it. No salvation came. When the storm began to lessen, he knew what Odium said was true. There was one path to freedom left for him. He had to choose to take it.

But he couldn’t. He summoned the honorblade to his hand, but he could not make himself do it.

When the storm had fully passed, there was nothing left to do. He started walking.

literally how can anyone see moash’s pov and not understand why it’s a better story on every level if he lives and redeems? remember when he grabbed the slave driver’s whip and pulled him down and said “you’re supposed to be better than this”? remember when odium said he wanted moash to recruit kaladin and moash said he would rather kaladin die than be like him and that would be a mercy? remember when he was bleeding out in the snow, struck with all his emotions at once—guilt, shame, fear and anger at himself—unable to cry from his burned out eye sockets? like what about all this makes people say “yea he should just die.” ok what happened to the most important step a man can take is the next one, journey before destination? are you not all buying into odium’s ultimate lie that there’s no more journey worth taking?

[moiraineswife]

Innocence Died Screaming - An Adolin & Jasnah Fic

I RETURN. I RETURN WITH EMOTIONAL KHOLINS TO MAKE YOU ALL EMOTIONAL TOO!!! ENJOY!!!!!!

Title: Innocence Died Screaming

Rating: T  Content warnings: mentions of accidental mother murder

Summary:  Set loosley pre-Rhythm of War. Jasnah requests some duelling training from her expert duelist cousin. Adolin sees it as a way to spend more time bonding with his cousin. He gets a little bit more than he bargained for when Jasnah calls him out as only Jasnah can for always putting himself down. They have a good heart to heart and I have Emotions.

Teaser:

'“Truthfully?” Adolin said, stalling for time.

“Always,” Jasnah said, with aching sincerity, because she was Jasnah.

“You suck,” Adolin replied bluntly, unable to find a fancier way of saying it to soften the blow.

Jasnah just smiled at that, then gestured at him, “Hence the reason you are here with me presently.”'

Link: AO3

Wit answered the door to Jasnah’s chambers with a flourish when Adolin knocked. Uncharacteristically, there was no quip. Probably because he’d seen Adolin bracing for one, and didn’t want to seem ‘predictable’. Though how anyone was supposed to predict someone like Wit was beyond him. 

“Jasnah, your beefy cousin has arrived to demonstrate the intricacies of hitting people with large metal sticks,” he announced to the room behind him where Jasnah was no doubt working. 

He made to sweep out after that declaration, but Adolin caught him by the arm and raised an eyebrow, “Beefy cousin?” he repeated, incredulous. 

“Well it couldn’t be handsome cousin, Adolin,” Wit replied smoothly, “That’s how I announce Renarin!” 

Adolin opened his mouth to reply to that, then closed it again, grinning, imagining Renarin’s face if that was, in fact, how Wit announced him. 

“What’s wrong with ‘Adolin’?” he asked instead, scratching his head. 

“Well it’s just so boring,” Wit said conversationally, lounging against the door and grinning at him. “Jasnah has a very difficult, taxing job,” he explained, with an almost conspiratorial air, “I need to seize any opportunity I can to inject a little humour into her life.” 

If rumours were to be believed, humour wasn’t the only thing he was injecting Jasnah with at the moment. 

Adolin didn’t say that. He did note, however, as his cousin approached them, that the two of them were alone, without a chaperone. 

That wasn’t entirely surprising. Jasnah had always just kind of done things her way. And she was a woman nearing her fortieth Weeping. But still. There were some rules you just shouldn’t bend, even if you were Queen.

Though Pattern wasn't exactly a model chaperone for me and Shallan, so I probably shouldn’t be judging Jasnah that harshly, he admitted ruefully to himself, grinning a little, then immediately hoping Wit hadn’t noticed.

Wit, fortunately, had eyes only for his queen at that moment. 

“Enjoy yourself, Brightness,” he was saying, waving an elegant hand at Jasnah, “Try not to hurt him too much.” 

He clapped Adolin on the shoulder, winking, then withdrew at a nod from Jasnah. 

Clearly his departing when Adolin arrived was a prearranged agreement between the two of them.

Adolin wasn’t entirely sorry about that. He liked Wit, might even be storming fond of him at this point, but he would be more relaxed without him in earshot of his every word. 

“Cousin,” Jasnah said, nodding to him in greeting. 

“Jasnah,” Adolin returned, grinning and stepping forwards to embrace her. 

All of them had had to get used to more hugs from him in the recent months. His father had been the one who had always rebuked him for it, while his mother had always encouraged him. Given recent events, he found himself more inclined towards listening to his mother. 

Besides, since losing Elhokar, he’d had his eyes opened to how precious his family was. He had loved his cousin, and his king, but he hadn’t felt as close to him as he’d wanted. 

He’d felt similarly towards Jasnah, and was determined not to let that happen again. She was his family. And as his family, she got a hug when he saw her. And had been forced to get used to him dropping by more often to spend time with her and get to know her properly. She seemed more comfortable with that than the hugs.

She was used to them by now though, and tolerated it, awkwardly patting him on the back to indicate she’d had enough of his affection for the day. He drew back, grinning. 

“Shall we get started?” Jasnah said briskly, stepping into a large section of her chambers she’d had cleared of furniture. 

She was also wearing a messenger style havah - shorter than the traditional garment, with high slits in the sides to allow for swift movement, and leggings underneath for dignity’s sake. Very practical, very Jasnah. 

“Sure,” Adolin said, following after her. 

He’d been surprised when she’d sent him a note requesting some training from him in dueling, but had been eager to accept. It would help with his new cousin-bonding goals. And he was always happy to help someone learn how to properly use their blade. 

“I’ve seen you fight a little with your Shardblade before,” he said, as they moved into position, “During the battle of Thaylen City. You were mostly Soulcasting, but you used your blade a couple of times, too. So I know you’re not totally useless.” 

“Thank you for that assessment, Adolin,” Jasnah replied coolly, though there was a hint of a smile in her eyes when she said it. 

Adolin blushed slightly, “What I meant was that you at least have some idea what to do. So I thought it might be best if you summoned your blade and showed me a few stances and movements that you know already? Do you know any katas?” 

“A few,” Jasnah replied, “Though they may be unfamiliar to you.” 

“Pick one,” Adolin said, leaning against the wall, well out of the way, “Go through it as you normally would. I’ll observe and see what needs to be corrected from there.” 

“Very well,” Jasnah said, nodding her assent at this plan. 

Adolin folded his arms across his chest, feeling a little odd. He’d given instruction to Shardbearers before. Zahel had sometimes had him help assist in the training of men on the practice grounds. Zahel didn’t much care that he was a prince, he’d been there, and that had been enough. 

He’d also given Shallan and Radiant extensive training now in the use of her blade. He wasn’t a stranger to being a teacher, and he found that he enjoyed it, especially as something productive he could do for the new Radiants in the tower. 

He’d just never expected to be doing it with Jasnah. 

Though, as she summoned her blade, he did feel there was something appropriate about the image of Jasnah Kholin standing there with a glimmering sword in hand. A completeness to the picture. Shallan would have wanted to sketch it, he was sure. He’d have to invite her along to one of these sessions, if they became a regular occurrence. 

“Very nice,” Adolin said, nodding approvingly as he examined the gleaming length of her weapon. 

He’d seen it before, but never up close or with the ability to take in the details. It was an elegant weapon, like Jasnah herself. Long and slender, with a slight curve to it. 

Jasnah held it comfortably. Because how else would the storming woman hold it? No one had yet managed to discover something Jasnah Kholin was objectively just bad at.

She frowned at this comment, “I haven’t started yet,” she pointed out.

Adolin grinned at her. “That’s a bit arrogant of you, Your Majesty,” he teased. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he added, “I was talking about your sword," he nodded to it, "Very nice indeed.” 

Jasnah glanced at the blade and her usually impassive features displayed a look of momentary surprise.

“Ivory says thank you,” she informed him. A pause, then she continued, “He says that he worked hard on perfecting the design and shape of this form.” 

Adolin nodded his approval. The attention to detail was obvious, and told him a lot about Ivory, and why he worked so well with Jasnah. Jasnah was all about the details. 

A slight crease formed between her eyes as she added, sardonically, “He also wishes me to pass on that he is pleased someone has taken notice. Finally.” She pursed her lips.

That made him smile again. He raised a hand and faked a cough to cover his urge to laugh at his cousin's expression. 

He had never met, or even glimpsed, Jasnah’s spren, except when he was summoned as a blade. According to her he was a private individual, who preferred not to be seen where possible. He sensed there was something deeper to it than what she’d said, but hadn’t pressed the issue.

Still, it was hard not to find Jasnah’s long-suffering tone oddly endearing for what it spoke of regarding their relationship. 

“I see Ivory is a man, uh, spren,” he corrected hastily, “Of fine taste, like myself," he said, with a small bow.

“Yes,” Jasnah replied, with a slight roll of her eyes, “Well if you’re both finished admiring swords for the moment, perhaps we could begin?” 

Adolin blushed slightly at the innuendo, which wasn’t something he was used to hearing from Jasnah. 

“You’ve been spending too much time around Wit,” he muttered, before he could think better of it. 

Fortunately, Jasnah only smiled at that, and made no remark. 

Adolin hastily gestured for her to continue, and concentrated on observing her form, rather than considering the tangled rumours of her and her wit. That was not why he was here. 

There was clearly something practiced about the motions of the kata, but it was obvious she hadn’t trained much, and that whoever had trained her previously hadn’t been very good at correcting small, but obvious, mistakes. 

There was nothing overtly wrong with what she did, but there were obvious improvements to be made that he could spot straight away. 

“Not bad,” he said, moving away from the wall, summoning Maya as he went, so that he could demonstrate, “Your stances have the right shape, but you need to commit to them more.”

He gave her a slight nudge with his elbow as he reached her and she wobbled, which illustrated his point, though she seemed displeased by it. Not at him, he sensed, but at herself.

“Sink down into them,” he said, showing her, “Anchor yourself, like a tree, roots planted deep into the ground.” 

Jasnah studied him for a moment with a critical eye, then replicated what he’d shown her, exaggerating the stance she’d chosen as demonstrated. 

“Good,” Adolin said, nodding in approval, “Alright, your grip, don’t overlap your hands like that, there’s room on the hilt for both hands to rest comfortably. Ivory’s not a bastard.” 

He chuckled to himself at the joke. Jasnah just raised her eyebrows. 

“A bastard sword is another name for a hand-and-a-half,” he explained with a shrug. 

Jasnah sniffed, “I think perhaps you might have been spending too much time around Wit.” 

There was no danger of that. If he wasn’t with Jasnah he was nowhere to be found these days. Adolin didn’t point that out either. Not while Jasnah had a shardblade in her hands, anyway. 

Instead he cleared his throat and carefully corrected the placement of her hands on Ivory’s hilt. 

“Alright, try that,” he said, gesturing for her to repeat the kata she’d just completed. 

“Better,” he said, nodding, “You’re right, by the way,” he told her, as she continued to implement what he’d just shown her, “I don’t recognise this kata. Who taught you?” 

She glanced at him as she turned, then grunted, “Swordmaster Katar," before continuing the sequence.

Adolin frowned, “Elsecalling lets you jump between here and Shadesmar, right?” he said. 

“Yes,” Jasnah replied slowly, seemingly confused by the question. 

“Does it let you jump through time, too?” he said, “Because otherwise I don’t see how Swordmaster Katar trained you. Since I’m pretty sure he’s dead.” 

“He lives on in the books he left behind,” Jasnah said, “As do all great historical figures.” She added, with a slight smirk, "I'm glad at least some of them made enough of an impression for you to take note of them."

Adolin put his hands on his hips, and snorted with laughter, unable to stop himself, “Only you would try to learn dueling from a book, Jasnah,” he said, shaking his head. 

Jasnah drew up at that and replied, blandly, “When I first bonded with Ivory eight years ago, there weren’t a lot of living swordmasters who were willing to train a heretic woman displaying ancient, forbidden powers steeped with negative connotation after the original Knight’s betrayal." She met his eyes and half-shrugged, mildly "I improvised.”

Adolin scratched his nose awkwardly and coughed to cover his momentary embarrassment, “Fair enough,” he muttered, “Given that, you’ve done pretty amazingly, I’m impressed.” 

“And without the context of my…Unorthodox education?” she asked, seeming genuinely curious about the answer. 

“Truthfully?” Adolin said, stalling for time. 

“Always,” Jasnah said, with aching sincerity, because she was Jasnah.

“You suck,” Adolin replied bluntly, unable to find a fancier way of saying it to soften the blow. 

Jasnah just smiled at that, then gestured at him, “Hence the reason you are here with me presently.”

“You have done well on your own,” Adolin told her, honestly, wanting to clarify his words. He hadn't expected her to agree with him, and that had thrown his response a little, "But-”

“But context can only excuse one’s lack of skill so far,” Jasnah supplied smoothly, “Before relying upon it simply becomes an awkward crutch to attempt to justify your inability.” 

“Sure,” Adolin agreed, nodding at her. Did she always have to talk like she was writing a new academic text? Storms. “Let’s get back into it, okay?” he suggested.

Jasnah nodded at once and complied with his instruction without a word. 

It felt very strange to be giving Jasnah orders. Stranger still to be instructing her, and correcting her. And even more strange that she deferred to him on everything and took whatever he said on board without question or hesitation.

After a little while of this, he paused in the middle of a sequence, shaking his head, bemused. Jasnah drew up, noting his expression. 

“What is it?” she asked, straightening up and raising an eyebrow at him. 

“This is just...Weird,” he said, running a hand absently through his hair, unable to find a more eloquent way of putting it. 

“Because I’m a woman?” Jasnah guessed evenly. 

“No,” Adolin said, waving a dismissive hand, “I got over that months ago with Shallan.” 

Jasnah smirked slightly at that, but made no comment. 

“It’s just-” he struggled to find the words to explain his emotions, “It’s you,” he said finally, which he knew wasn’t entirely helpful. “You’re Jasnah,” he added. Which was about as useful as his earlier sentiment. 

“I’m aware of that,” Jasnah replied, slowly, clearly struggling to piece together what he was trying to say. 

“It, well it-” Adolin stammered, feeling as lost as he would have if she'd asked him to summarise Aunt Navani's fabrial lecture for him, grappling with fitting his unwieldy emotions into insubstantial words. 

“It feels strange for me to be teaching you anything," he managed finally, "You’re Jasnah storming Kholin. The world famous scholar. This fantastic thinker, and historian, and all of that," he said, gesturing expansively before he said, voice and hands falling flat, "I’m Adolin, the family idiot, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Silence stretched between them for a long, uncomfortable moment. 

“I think that we should take a short break,” Jasnah announced abruptly, dismissing her blade. 

Adolin decided not to point out that they’d barely been going for an hour, and with Stormlight, there was no way she actually needed a break. If he’d been Zahel he’d have laughed at this suggestion. But he wasn’t. And he knew better.

Jasnah would do what Jasnah wanted to do. She was already heading towards the seating area of her chambers. The easiest thing to do was to thank Maya, then dismiss her and follow his cousin.

Jasnah was pouring them both wine, orange for her, yellow for Adolin, and pushed the cup towards him, settling on the couch and gesturing him to the seat opposite her. 

Sighing, Adolin accepted the cup, and the chair, and sat down as indicated. 

Jasnah was eyeing him over the rim of her own cup, considering him like some dusty historical treatise she was trying to pry secrets from.

“I’ve noticed that you do that a lot, Adolin,” she remarked finally, lowering the cup. 

“What? Drink?” Adolin joked, rather feebly. 

Hastily he raised his own cup and taking a gulp of the wine. It was good. Jasnah had appropriately fine taste. But there was a bad taste in his mouth. Less from the wine, and more from the memories that rose at the mention of indulging in it too often.

“Put yourself down,” Jasnah said bluntly, ignoring his attempt at humour. “Particularly with regards to your own intelligence. You seem overly fond of comparing yourself negatively in that regard to those around you.” 

Adolin shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took another sip of his wine before he answered.

“Kind of hard not to,” he said, aiming to keep his voice light, “I mean there’s you. Aunt Navani, Shallan, Renarin. Wit’s never normally far from you, either. Even the Storming Bridgeboy-” He caught himself, realising he’d probably slipped into sounding more resentful than he’d intended. 

No doubt Jasnah had noticed. But he lounged back in his chair, giving her an easy grin to try and smoothe over the sticky moment.

With a shrug he said, “I’m just surrounded by a lot of really smart people all the time. It’s natural to make comparisons.” 

“Hm,” Jasnah replied, in a way that suggested she didn’t at all believe him, “Yet I don’t see you comparing yourself in other areas. You never remark on your lack of ability to draw while around Shallan, for instance. You don’t talk about the fact you can’t set a fracture when you’re around Kaladin. You’ve never once mentioned not being able to play the flute while around me.” 

“You still play the flute?” he deflected, while actually being vaguely interested in the answer. 

Jasnah, again, ignored him. Which was getting annoying. Shallan was a lot easier to distract and divert off course whenever she mentioned things like this. Which he did every time she tried.

“And you also don’t seem to point out the areas where those around you are lacking, either,” Jasnah continued, with characteristic unavoidable intent. “Even if they also form easy points of comparison. I don’t hear you disparage my lack of ability in the areas of personable conversation. Nor Kaladin’s inability to process failure. Or Shallan’s lack of focus. The only person whose perceived flaws you feel the need to accentuate are your own.”

She raised her eyebrows pointedly at him and settled back in her chair, raising her cup to her lips again, watching to see how he reacted.

Storms. He’d forgotten how sometimes conversing with Jasnah could feel like going to battle. Usually his head hurt less after the actual battles, too. 

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to process what she’d said, and the point she was driving at.

“I guess,” he said, not looking at her, “I guess it’s just...Easy to feel less than surrounded by a bunch of genius Radiants all the time. And you are all smarter than me, you can’t deny that,” he said quickly, pointing at her in accusation.

“No,” Jasnah agreed slowly, “But it’s also not something you should seek to highlight in nearly every conversation.” 

“I don’t-” he began. 

“You do,” Jasnah interrupted, voice surprisingly gentle, yet unyielding as ever. “You always find some way to mention your lack of comparable academic capability. Even in situations where it has little to no relevance. Such as our dueling practice earlier”

Adolin sighed, “I suppose you’d take exception to me pointing out that my lack of, what was it, ‘academic capability’ is really hurting my ability to properly argue with you right now?” 

Jasnah smiled thinly at that, “It would serve to highlight my point rather well, actually. So on this sole occasion, feel free.” 

He groaned, “No offence, but I really hate talking to you sometimes, Jasnah.”  

She inclined her head as if to say she understood, and agreed, with that sentiment. He found that curious about her. Most people shied away from criticism or insults. Jasnah seemed to welcome them, like a rockbud opening up to gorge itself on storm rains. Maybe because so few people were ever brave enough to tell her what they really thought. 

“You could point out that this is an area where I am not particularly skilled,” she said, swirling her wine thoughtfully, “Talking with others. Connecting. Encouraging them to open up. Empathising with their emotions and struggles.” She met his eyes again as she said, lightly, “An area in which you excel, I might add. Perfectly reasonable grounds for one of your comparisons.” 

“I would never say that to you,” he protested without thinking. 

Only after he caught the triumphant glimmer in Jasnah’s eye did he realise that she’d maneuvered him into that to make her point. He glowered at her. 

“Can we get back to dueling again?” he growled, “I have a sudden urge to start hitting you with Maya.” 

She just smiled at him. 

Adolin flopped back in his chair, running a hand through his hair again, “It’s just. It’s hard, Jasnah,” he admitted, his voice softening a little, though he avoided her penetrating gaze as he spoke, “I feel like I blinked and the entire world was pulled out from under me like a rug. I’m still struggling to get back to my feet while the bridgeboy is soaring in the sky, and my wife is infiltrating cults. Oh, and my brother has visions of the future, and my father is communing with the Storming Stormfather. And you’re the most powerful Radiant we have and I’m...Still just me.” 

“I understand,” Jasnah said quietly. 

Adolin snorted before he could stop himself. 

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m sorry, Jasnah,” he said, sitting up and putting a hand on her arm, “I just find it hard to believe that you of all people can possibly understand what this feels like.”

Jasnah was quiet for a moment, tapping her finger on the side of her cup, then she said, “I spent years researching the Desolations. I collected hundreds of fragments from ancient texts detailing everything I could find related to the Radiants, Urithiru, the Voidbringers, and the events that had nearly destroyed mankind. I barely slept, barely stopped, barely rested for years to accumulate all the knowledge I could.” 

“I know,” Adolin said, scratching his head, unsure why she was telling him this, “Shallan told me.” 

Jasnah nodded, then continued, “I was the newest Radiant, I have achieved the highest Ideal of any of the people we’ve found. I am the most practiced with my powers, the most accomplished. At one time I had more knowledge, and more experience, with the Radiants, and the Desolations, than almost anyone else on Roshar.” 

“Isn’t that what I said?” Adolin asked, bemused. 

“Then the Ghostbloods sent assassins after me on the Wind’s Pleasure. I was stabbed through the chest and almost killed and ended up Elsecalling accidentally for the first time and became trapped in Shadesmar,” she went on, tone barely changing, even as she described this traumatic event.

Adolin winced at that. He remembered the reports that had come in claiming the Wind’s Pleasure lost with all hands. At the time he’d been so worried about Shallan he’d barely spared a thought for Jasnah. 

Of course, Aunt Navani’s insistence that she was fine had been a little distracting, but… He should have been more distressed at the news of Jasnah’s presumed death. Even if it had turned out to be false. 

She was family. Even if she was a little odd, and they had never really spent all that much time together or gotten to know each other that well. He was working to change that with her. 

After Elhokar’s death… Well, he had realised how precious his family was. He wanted to make the most of the people he had left.

“Having been lost there yourself, you’re aware it’s not exactly easy to get out. Or to navigate through, particularly without supplies or Stormlight.” 

Adolin nodded, grimacing at the memory. It couldn’t have been easy for Jasnah, trapped there, alone, with no preparation or warning. She’d never really spoken about it to him. Or, as far as he knew, to anyone. 

She’d published accounts of what had happened to her there, and he’d had Shallan read them to him but… They were put across with Jasnah’s usual academic slant. There wasn’t any mention of how she had felt, or how it had affected her. That wasn’t really Jasnah’s way. 

Her voice was softer when she continued, with a sigh, “When I emerged at last it was to find that the Desolation had already come. The Everstorm had been loosed across Roshar, the Singers had awoken. All of my fears had been realised without my even being there to witness them. 

“In my abseence my uncle had refounded the Knights Radiant, with him as the Stormfather’s Bondsmith. My cousin was a budding Radiant, my ward was another, and then there was the bridgeman strutting around like a prized Rhyshadium with my family, seeming to fit more with them than I ever did. It was somewhat overwhelming.” 

Adolin gaped at her. He had never heard Jasnah admit to anything overwhelming her. Ever. Well, except perhaps Aunt Navani. But she could overwhelm a highstorm at times, so that didn’t really count. 

Jasnah was always, well, Jasnah. The model of Alethi regality and dignity. Always composed, always assured, confident, never in doubt or afraid, or any of the things he seemed to feel so often these days. 

She smiled, a little sadly, and said, “I went from being one of the most knowledgeable people to having everyone know the things I had worked so hard to discover. I’d spent years struggling alone. I’d written to leaders across the world and received only scorn, and mistrust. 

“Ivory and I had been alone, struggling to comprehend our powers and our bond. At first I feared that I was going mad. No one else understood. No one else could understand. And so I had to. Then suddenly Radiants were popping up everywhere like rockbuds after a storm. 

“I thought that I was so prepared, and so informed, and in a moment all of that had been for nothing. Everything I had done had been wasted time. It had made no difference. Everyone knew. Everyone knew more than I did, in fact. Everyone had moved on to a world I had feared was coming for so long. And I was left feeling lost and utterly out of my depth.” 

She took a sip of her wine, and her eyes grew more distant, more pained. He had never seen her like this before. As open, as vulnerable, as human as she continued, very quietly.

“Then Kholinar fell. And Elhokar died. And just like that, I became Queen of an empty, broken nation. A scattered, fragmented people. As lost and overwhelmed as I was. But they looked to me, their Queen, their most experienced Radiant, a ‘genius’ as you name me, and expected me to have answers, to be a shining light of salvation in the darkness of the thing I had dreaded for so long. They wanted me to save them, without ever realising I had already tried to do just that. And that I had failed.” 

So looked up and met Adolin’s eyes, her gaze steady, in spite of what she’d just shared with him and said, with a little humourless smile on her lips, “So yes, Adolin. I think I have some idea of what you have been feeling since all of this began.”

Adolin sat, feeling somewhat stunned, as if he’d just been cracked over the head with a Shardbearer’s warhammer again. 

Then he found himself leaning forwards, taking Jasnah’s hand and nodding to her, “Yeah,” he murmured, voice a little hoarse now. “Everything changed so much so fast. Everything except me.” 

She squeezed his hand. Just a brief pulse of her fingers around his, but it somehow gave him courage to say things he’d never been able to properly voice aloud before. 

“I was one of the most important people on Roshar. Shardbearer. Expert duelist. Heir to a princedom. In line to the throne of Alethkar itself,” he reeled off dully.

He shook his head, and downed the rest of his wine. Jasnah wordlessly refilled his cup for him, and he nodded his thanks to her before continuing. 

“Then the world ended. And there were Storming Knight’s Radiant again. And my father was one. And my brother was one. And my fiancee was one. And my returned-from-the-dead-cousin was one,” he said, gesturing emphatically towards her, “And my bridgeboy was one, too, because of course he storming is.” he went on, waving his cup around so much that a little of the wine slopped over the rim. They both pretended not to notice. “And I was just...Some guy with a dead spren and no place in this new ending world.” 

He met Jasnah’s eyes and gently squeezed her hands as he added, “Then Elhokar died. I failed him. And I failed Kholinar. We only got out of that mess because of my father-” he broke off, clenching his fist and turning away. 

Jasnah let him sit quietly for a moment, gazing vaguely off into space, brooding. There was darkness inside him. No one ever seemed to see that. He never wanted to let it show. But it was there. And it was swirling to the surface now, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to stop it. 

“My father,” he said, very quietly, still not sure if he wanted to fall into this chasm, “Who killed my mother.” 

His voice caught and he was forced to swallow hard to clear the sudden lump in his throat so he could speak again. And when he did he found that he couldn’t stop.

Because he met Jasnah’s eyes again and knew that she, too, had dark thoughts she never wanted the world to see. There was a strange connection being forged between them. An understanding he’d never thought to find, or even look for, with her. But he felt that she understood, and would not condemn him for the words that started pouring out of his mouth like poison.

“And he wrote a storming book about it and told the world what he’d done. How he- What he-” He broke off again, but made himself keep going, “What he did. How he visited the Nightwatcher and she took his memories of her. Or, or a god took his memories of her, because they hurt him so much after what he’d done and I-” 

He balled his hands into fists and pounded them against his knees as the teras pressed behind his defiantly closed eyes. 

Through clenched teeth, he forced himself to get out, “As though he was the only one suffering. As though I was fine. As though I wasn’t in agony every storming day after she died.” 

Something broke in him then. Something that had been fraying for a long time. And he couldn’t hold it back anymore. 

“And it was his fault! He should have felt pain. He should have felt guilt. He should have felt every storming thing that was killing him after what he did because he deserved it. I didn’t. Renarin didn’t. But there was nothing there to take our pain away. We didn’t even have him. We lost both of our parents that night, and he didn’t even seem to care. Still doesn’t. He only thinks about what it cost him. What he lost. What he took away from the world. And from me.”

“I’m sorry, Adolin,” Jasnah said quietly, “I know that you still miss her.” 

“Of course I still miss her!” Adolin snapped, then winced at how loudly he had said that. He sighed, clenching and unclenching his hands several times, like a heartbeat, then said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” 

Jasnah just nodded, wordless acceptance of his apology.

He set his jaw, then took another sip of wine, finishing his second cup. But when Jasnah made to refill it again he shook his head. He kept the cup in his hands so he could fidget with it, but he didn’t want more wine. He didn’t want- He didn’t want to be the man who needed it to get through something difficult. He didn’t want to be his father. Not anymore. 

“I still love him,” Adolin mumbled, “Even after what he did. He’s my father. And he- I can see that he’s trying to be a better man. She saw that in him, you know.” 

He looked up and saw Jasnah frown slightly, struggling to follow his confused, meandering thoughts. He didn’t blame her. 

“My mother,” he explained, wiping his nose on the back of his hand without really noticing what he was doing. “She was a good person. And she saw a good person in him, too. And she was right. She just-” 

He was crying now, jaw gritted against it, unwilling, but the tears were still coming. He wasn’t sure when he’d started. He supposed that it didn’t really matter. And with that realisation came the freedom to just..Cry. 

His mother would never have chided him for that, for his emotions. She would have welcomed them. Even angry, bitter, grief-drenched tears. The bad feelings couldn’t be kept inside of him, they would make him sick. And they would. They had made his father sick. So sick he’d had to beg a god to heal him.

“Why did she have to die before he listened to her?” he blurted, not expecting an answer from Jasnah. Not expecting an answer at all. Just needing to put voice to the things that had tormented him for so long. “Why did he have to storming kill her before he could become the man she always knew that he could be? Why couldn’t he have been that man for her? The man she deserved? Because she- She deserved better than the man that he was. There. I’ve said it.” 

He turned away from Jasnah, rubbing at his eyes, hoping, stupidly, that she might not have seen his tears. That was pretty impossible, given that she’d been staring right at him, and she was more perceptive than a skyeel spotting rats on the crowded streets of a city sometimes. 

And given that he was doing nothing short of openly weeping at this point. But Jasnah made no comment. Just silently handed him a silk handkerchief she had in a pocket.

“She was a good person, Adolin,” Jasnah agreed softly, “And you are her son. As much as you are your father’s.” She paused, then said, “More.” 

Adolin cleared his throat and sniffed several times before meeting her eyes.

She nodded, answering his unspoken question, confirming for him. 

Then she said, “She used to do the same thing that you do now, you know.” 

He frowned slightly at that, “What?” 

“She would compare herself to the other women of the court. Say how she was not as smart, nor as cunning, as they were, that she lacked their skill in politics, and Alethi scheming.”

“She was a better woman than all of them,” Adolin whispered, wiping his eyes again, “She had a good heart. She was gentle, and kind, and loving. She saw the best in everyone, and everything, even when they’d shown her nothing but the worst parts of them. She always believed things could be better, that we could be better. That’s what she taught me, and Renarin. And she was right. She-” 

He broke off, meeting Jasnah’s eyes again, and found that glimmer in them. She nodded slowly to him, and he swallowed, but nodded back to her, understanding passing between them.

“You are more like her than you allow yourself to be, Adolin,” Jasnah observed quietly. “You have her heart. But you hide it behind your own perception of all the things you’re doing wrong. All the things you aren’t good at. You ignore your greatest strengths to dwell upon your flaws. Until that becomes a flaw itself. It’s holding you back from the man that you could be. The man you should become.”

“When I was younger, I wanted so badly to be like my father,” Adolin said quietly. “I wanted to be the Blackthorn. I wanted to fight alongside him on the Plains. I wanted to see the greatness that everyone spoke about when they talked about him. The unstoppable Shardbearer. The undefeated warlord. I thought he was the best a man could be, the best thing I could ever aspire to be.” 

“And now?” Jasnah prompted gently. 

Adolin clenched his fist in his lap and stared into the candle flame flickering on the table between them, “Now that’s the monster who killed my mother,” he whispered, with a naked condemnation he hadn’t dared approach before. Not even in his own thoughts. “And thousands of other innocent people. And the less like him I am the better I’ll be. The better Alethkar will be, too.” 

He paused, then looked up at Jasnah, realisation sparking in him.

“That’s what’s wrong, isn’t it?” he said quietly, “What we are, what we do? We- We focus on the wrong things. On how good we are at killing and conquering. Or how accomplished our women are at scheming, and manipulating people.” He met Jasnah’s eyes and said, “That’s what you’re trying to change, isn’t it?” 

“No, cousin,” she said, actually reaching out and taking his hands, “That is what we are going to change,” she said, firmly. 

Adolin squeezed her hands and nodded, “We will,” he agreed. 

Jasnah smiled at that, not her usual, small, guarded little smirk, a full smile, her eyes dancing, her intent clear. And Adolin found himself smiling with her. 

As one, they stood, and embraced. Without any reluctance or ginger back patting on Jasnah’s part this time.

As they drew away, Adolin eyed her. “I think Wit has been rubbing off on you,” he observed, giving her a wry smile. 

Jasnah pulled back, frowning at that, “What do you mean?” 

“This feels like the kind of thing he’d do,” Adolin said, shrugging, “From what Shallan and Kal have said to me about the times he’s popped up to give them cryptic advice when they’ve needed to talk about stuff.�� 

Jasnah sniffed, “I don’t think anything about that conversation was ‘cryptic’, Adolin. Nor was it intended to be.” 

“That’s true,” Adolin said, nodding, “If it had been Wit he’d have told me a three hour story about how chulls shouldn’t judge themselves on how good they are at flying by comparing themselves to skyeels or. Something.”

Jasnah smiled at that, and her expression softened in a way Adolin had never seen from her before. 

He paused, wondering if he dared ask her if the rumours surrounding her and Wit were true. 

Then the softened expression dropped from her face as she turned back towards him looking decidedly more business-like, and he decided that he didn’t dare. 

She might be his cousin, and they might have just bonded over things he’d never dreamed she of all people could have the experience to understand. But no.

Adolin Kholin might not be able to name all seventeen varieties of fingermoss, or have any idea how fabrials worked, but he was not stupid.

***

[moash]

JASNAH KHOLIN is a FALSE QUEEN who holds NO LANDS, the RIGHTFUL KING of our beloved ALETHKAR is he who bested former KING ELHOKAR KHOLIN in just and honorable combat, according to the ancient codes, KING MOASH [last name redacted bc brandon never told us what name he picked in words of radiance] i will not bow before the USURPER, LONG LIVE THE KING