#and Adolin is the one who Renarin opens up to most

[koravelliumavast]

THEM!!!

[asteroidfieldgame]

Dalinar's weapon

So Dalinar plans to represent himself in the contest of champions, but he has one problem: he currently doesn't have a shardblade. These are the best weapons in Roshar, and something his foe will almost certainly have access to. So what will he use?

Dalinar and his weapons have a lot of thematic implications for his character, between Oathbringer both representing his past as the Blackthorn, and his saving of the bridgemen.

My first guess was that Kaladin would give him Syl, intentionally echoing him giving up the blade in WoK. This would be a big moment, but seems contradicted by Kaladin heading to Shinovar, and the current previews implying Kaladin won't be there for the contest of champions. A similar moment may be possible with one of the other Windrunners however.

My second guess is seemingly overruled for the same reason. He is perhaps the character who could wield Nightblood most safely, with his ability to open a perpendicularity. Nightblood was also offered to him by the Nightwatcher, and it was within his reach when Szeth was nearby. It would also be interesting to see Dalinar with a weapon like Nightblood that can both capitalize on and kill him for his evil side.

But maybe he really doesn't want a shardblade, he did after all give them up. Maybe he'll use a spear like the bridgemen who now have shardblades.

Or maybe they'll just get him an Honorblade. That's a great weapon for a contest of champions.

That said, while it seems very unlikely a radiant would use a normal blade, it's not impossible as shown by Renarin. Oathbringer also was stated to hate him less because of the oath. Maybe Adolin will even heal it.

The Stormfather was said not to be able to be a blade, maybe because it's beneath him, maybe because it's dangerous, maybe both, but maybe he will allow himself to be a blade for something this important, or maybe Dalinar will force him to, as forshadowed by the Oathgate and a lot of the Spren's fears.

Maybe he won't use a weapon at all. The contest may not simply be a physical fight, and his Bondsmithing powers and ability to give a dramatic speech or something will be enough. Maybe he'll use a book like at Thaylen Field.

Or maybe he won't be the champion. Maybe he'll realize he should allow someone else to do it, or maybe because he'll ascend before then.

Or maybe I've missed something: please tell me if I did.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Conservatism in Brandon Sanderson’s Writings; or, Reflections on Revolution in the Cosmere

I’ve only read The Stormlight Archive and Warbreaker, so this is based on an incomplete picture, but the combination of those two have given me an impression of Sanderson’s ideas on social structures, appropriate and inappropriate responses to institutional injustice, and revolution. These ideas strike me as being essentially conservative; I’m tempted to say Burkean (hence my alternate title), but I don’t know Burke’s writings well enough to be sure if that’s correct.

To be clear: this is not a ‘call-out’ post. I personally disagree with some of Sanderson’s themes, but I’m trying to understand, engage with, and debate them, not flatly condemn them.

My interpretations here are primarily based on two storylines: Warbreaker, and Kaladin and Moash’s arcs in Words of Radiance. Both of these two storylines, and their resolutions, seem grounded in the following political ideas:

1) Injustice and cruelty are the result of bad, or flawed, people; not of bad systems. And people can change. The solution to a system that seems unjust is to improve the people within it, not to tear it down.

2) Those who seek revolution are basically self-serving and vengeful, not interested in the good of others or that of society.

3) Radicals and those who seek revolution have a blinkered political perspective, flattening societies and people into stereotypes rather than acknowledging their complexity.

1. People, not systems

For the first point: both Alethkar and the world of Warbreaker have systems that are fundamentally founded on entrenched and institutionalized inequality. In Alethkar it is the division between lighteyes and darkeyes (and the different ranks thereof). In Warbreaker it is the position of Returned, who can only exist by daily taking life-force/spirit from others - typically from the poor. Nonetheless, the narrative justifies the maintenance of both systems, primarily on the basis that the ruling classes contain good people (e.g. Dalinar, Adolin; Siri, Susebron, Lightsong); one of the major themes in TWOK and WOR revolves around forcing Kaladin to recognize that some lighteyes are good, and others, like Elhokar, have the desire and capacity to improve.

The basic political conflict is, to me, expressed by two lines following Kaladin’s (second) defeat of a Shardbearer. The first is Dalinar’s, when he states what Kaladin should do about institutionalized discrimination against darkeyes: “You want to change that?...Be the kind of man that others admire, whether they be lighteyed or dark...That will change the world.” This fundamentally rubs me the wrong way - it’s the Booker T. Washington theory of how to address racial inequality, and history has proven time and time and time again that it doesn’t work. If Kaladin did that, people would say, “Wow, that Kaladin, what an unusually exceptional darkeyes!” and continue to treat the rest of darkeyes just the same.

The second line is Kaladin’s when he refuses the shardblade that would make him lighteyed: “I don’t want my life to change because I’ve become a lighteyes. I want the lives of people like me...like I am now...to change.” This, I completely agree with - but later events would suggest the narrative may not. (And the fact that Kaladin doesn’t used his increased status in later books to push for change on this front frustrates me.)

To give another example: when Sadeas treats bridgemen as cannon fodder and their lives as utterly disposable, the problem is treated as being that Sadeas is a bad person (and facing certai. tactical constraints) - not the fact that Sadeas and the other brightlords has the power to treat darkeyes’ lives as disposable in the first place. When Kaladin is imprisoned for challenging Amaram to a duel - in effect, imprisoned for being darkeyed, since a high-nahn lighteyes would not have been punished for issuing such a challenge - this is treated as Kaladin’s fault, not the fault of a system that treats him as having fundamentally less worth than Amaram.

There’s no focus in the books on getting rid of the unjust system - by any means, violent or non-violent, bottom-up or top-down - just on having the ruling class become better people, which is expected to alleviate some problems without fundamentally altering the social structure.

2. Revolutionaries are selfish

The most open expression of this idea is in TWOK, where Moash says outright that he’d like to keep the same system but flipped, with darkeyes on the top and lighteyes on the bottom. Vivenna’s endeavours towards revolution are also portrayed as driven by bigotry against Hallandran culture. And Kalladin’s desire to remove Elhokar is shown as driven by a desire for revenge, with any larger goals or motives being mere rationalization. Likewise, the main antagonist of Warbreaker is shown as having destructive, not constructive goals.

While this is ceratinly true of some revolutionary movements, in Sanderson’s works it is shown as invariably true, with no revolutionary characters being driven by genuine justice or the desire to improve people’s lives. This provides a stark contrast with the number of virtuous characters who are shown depicting or upholding the existing social systems.

3. Radicals see society in shallow and stereotypical terms

This is a big part of the characterization of both Vivenna and Kaladin. For Vivenna, the main example is that she initially sees her people - from a largely rural nation - as fundamentally virtuous, and is horrified by the ‘criminals’ they have to live among in the slum. When she’s made to see that those ‘criminals’ are in fact members of her people, she sees them as victims tragically corrupted by the terrible (urban) culture they’ve immigrated to. She generalizes; she doesn’t want to recognize the fact that some of her people prefer life in the city - despite marginalization and poverty - to life in their country of birth, and wouldn’t want to return. She spends most of the book being gradually forced to break down her stereotypes of her culture as good and Hallandran society as corrupt.

Kaladin, for his part, continually stereotypes lighteyes. In his youth, it’s a kind of internalized caste-ism - he’s constantly disappointed and mistreated by the lighteyes around him, and he keeps on thinking that the people doing it aren’t ‘real’ lighteyes, ‘real’ lighteyes are noble and honorable and he’ll get to fight for one someday. After being betrayed one too many times, he switches to thinking that all lighteyes, invariably, are corrupt, exploitative and evil; it takes a lot to get him to trust Dalinar, and for well after that he continues stereotyping every lighteyes he meets (Adolin, Renarin, Shallan) as spoiled and uncaring even after evidence to the contrary. Even in Oathbringer stereotypes are his default reaction to lighteyes he doesn’t know. He also tends to ignore the fact of major differences in variations in status and life with the two main castes, by nahn and dahn. It’s treated as one of his more persistent character flaws, and contrasted with the more open and merit-based attitudes of the main lighteyed characters.

I’m not really comfortable with this portrayal. Kaladin’s entire life, and everything he’s suffered, have been defined and determined by being lighteyes. He doesn’t have the luxury of being ‘eye-colour-blind’ . Does he make invalid assumptions? Yes, especially about Shallan. But Kaladin thinking of Adolin as a spoiled brat and Adolin calling Kaladin ‘bridgeboy’ are not the same kind of thing; calling someone from a discriminated-against group (who is an adult of about your age) ‘boy’ has implications that both the author and reader are aware of; it is, intentionally or not, an expression of power and superiority, and it is quite justified that it would guve Kaladin a negative impression of Adolin! More broadly, mistrusting lighteyes is basically a trauma-induced defense mechanism for Kaladin, and understandable given what he’s been through. Adolin’s thinking, early in Words of Radiance, that “he was all for treating men with respect and honor regardless of eye shade, but the Almighty had put some men in command and others beneath them; it was simply the natural order of things” is to my mind far more offensive than Kaladin’s personality hostility to lighteyes, but the only main character who the narrative treats/criticizes as being bigoted on the basis of eye color is Kaladin. Adolin’s treated by the narrative as a great person who Kaladin needs to be nicer to, and the aforementioned attitude is never addressed again; it’s not part of his character arc like Kaladin’s view of lighteyes is.

In short, Sanderson’s works are strongly grounded in the idea that the quality of a society is grounded in the personal goodness of its people (including the goodness of its ruling class) more than in the creation of just and equal social structures; and that attributting a society’s problems to structures that create and perpetuate injustice rather than to the choices of individuals is basically wrongheaded. I agree with him on the importance of individual goodness and choices; I disagree with his minimization of the need to dismantle unjust social structures.

[kandra-chameleon]

I really don’t understand the deep running Lirin hate in this fandom although I have my theories and I might expand on that . The dude honestly tries so hard with Kaladin and his entire arc is about learning to be flexible and admit he’s actually wrong in the way he’s going about it? He genuinely loves all three of his kids so much and he wants so desperately for them to be happy... he just doesn’t get that he’s doing the whole “round peg square hole” thing and he’s frustrated. Also like, he and Hesina straight up believed Kaladin had died. Like, they had mourned both of their sons at the hands of Roshone’s recruitment and as they’re finally making peace and trying to continue a normal life Kaladin rocks up, all glowing and traumatised and tells them that literally everything they’ve ever believed was incorrect. I think maybe we need to give him a bit more credit for struggling to adjust to everything.

Like I just saw a post calling Lirin “the worst father in the cosmere” and I’m really salty about it. This dude that coesxists with Gavilar Kholin and Lin Davar??? You know that Straff Venture is also a character in the cosmere yes??? Lirin really resonates with me bc my parents loved me so much and genuinely tried so hard with my mental health, but ultimately have done a lot of things that messed me up too, and they’re still learning to be better with it, just like Lirin eventually does. But sometimes I’ll mention something that they do/have done and their immediate reaction is still defensive or will tell me I’m in the wrong; not because they’re bad people, not because they’re bad parents, my parents are fantastic, but because they’re not always equipped to help and because they don’t react well to that. My dad is a doctor and he hates that he can’t help me when I’m not well. Especially when I was at my absolute lowest and wasn’t being honest with them, he was bull headed and frustrating trying to do “what was right” and it pushed us even further apart. And the things dad tried to do wouldn’t have helped, I know this for a fact, but if I had been more willing to be honest and open with him, we could maybe have come to a compromise sooner. Let’s be honest here: when was the last time Kaladin fostered any kind of healthy conversation with Lirin?

Just !!! The whole arc of Lirin’s character in RoW is accepting who Kaladin is and how to work with him (something Kaladin has been actively working against in spite of all Lirins- admittedly blundering but ultimately well meaning- attempts). Come on, guys, the most important step a man can take is the next one, and Lirin is learning that lesson in the most human way any of the rest of them are.

((Also can’t help but think that if Lirin weren’t Kaladin’s dad he wouldn’t get half the hate he does bc people seem to have forgiven Dalinar for literally killing the mother of his children and ignoring Renarin for most of his formative years. And Lirin didn’t push being a surgeon on Kal any more than Dalinar pushed becoming a solider on Adolin. Both of them equated parenting to forcing societal expectations on their oldest son, Lirin just committed less war crimes :\\))

[kogiopsis]

That ways to say I love you post: if you have time, I would love to see 4 for Kalarin or 6 for Shadolin. Thanks!

Okay, I did #4 for Kalarin first and I am absolutely gonna do #6 for Shadolin ‘cause it’s perfect for them, but I want to post this one now. It’s almost 12:30 a.m. here and I stayed up later than I should have to finish it.

4. Instead of “thank you” or “see you soon” or “drive safe.” Because no matter what you say it’ll mean the same thing.

Setting: Canon setting, but to avoid spoilers this is set between OB and RoW. I have fudged some elements, including the obvious fact that they have not gotten together in canon. No actual spoilers, though there are some vague hints tying into events which unfold in RoW, just to make it feel more anchored in the timeline.

--------------------------------------

Practice spears clacked together in a chaotic rhythm that was somehow still musical to Kaladin’s ears. He paced along the double line of sparring Windrunner recruits, adjusting stances and grips where necessary, offering praise where merited. They were doing well, these eager soldiers; Skar and Teft had been training them for a few weeks and weeding out those who had come with dreams of effortless elevation. Those who remained were willing to work hard, dedicated to something bigger than themselves. Almighty willing, the honorspren would see that in them too.

Syl darted through the tangle of spears, twirling around them as a ribbon of light, and met Kaladin at one end of the line to perch on his shoulder.

“We’re a long way from the chasms of the Shattered Plains, aren’t we?” Kaladin said, glancing at her. “And yet it doesn’t feel so far away at all.”

“Several miles higher up,” she said lightly. “And I rather liked going back to the Plains to train. There was always something to see.”

“We’ll go back eventually.” With Ialai Sadeas expanding her control of the former warcamps, Dalinar had decided it was too dangerous to take raw recruits to the Shattered Plains for the time being, so the Windrunners had taken over a stretch of Urithiru’s first-level terrace to train instead. The views of the mountains around them were dramatic, but it wasn’t the same.

From the direction of the tower came Rock’s booming laugh, carrying easily across the intervening space, and Kaladin turned to see the Horneater approaching, accompanied by Sigzil and a distinctive figure with a slim build and mixed blond-and-black hair. Renarin Kholin, wearing a rare open and unguarded smile. Heat rose in Kaladin’s cheeks at the sight.

Renarin raised a hand to waive as they drew closer, and Kaladin waived back before turning to the recruits and calling a rest break. They offered the Bridge Four salute, and then dispersed, and he turned to his approaching friends and… Renarin.

It was new, this thing between them. Drehy liked to insist that he call it ‘courting’, but that word didn’t feel quite right to Kaladin. Courting seemed more formal, stiff - traditional. The word reminded him of escorting Adolin and Shallan on outings together. That wasn’t what he and Renarin were doing - the closest they came to promenading about on walks was exploring as-yet uninhabited tiers of Urithiru, talking in quiet places far from the increasing hubbub of the lower floors and atrium. They didn’t exchange gifts, either, unless bringing each other food for the occasional missed meal counted. Courting had always been a dance to which Kaladin never knew the steps. What he had with Renarin… well, sometimes what scared him was how comfortable it felt.

“How are they, Captain?” Sigzil asked, gesturing at the trainees. Kaladin shrugged.

“Teft and Skar have done well with them. Worst outcome, even if the honorspren are choosy, we’ll have a good crop of spearmen here.” And spearwomen? The Windrunners didn’t discriminate by gender, but Kaladin wasn’t sure what the right word should be.

“Basic sparring drills, right? Rock and I will take them through the next set.”

“Your prince, he has something to say,” Rock added, with a grin. “We will tell them where to put their feet so you may have privacy for this thing.” Though he never fought himself, Rock had a knack for spotting unsteady stances, and seemed to enjoy showing recruits their errors by pushing them over. 

“Thanks,” Kaladin said with a nod. Rock cast a glance at Syl, still perched on Kaladin’s shoulder, and she zipped off to circle Rock’s head instead, following him back towards the trainees. Kaladin allowed himself to look directly at Renarin for the first time. It made him oddly nervous, despite the time they’d spent together, to let his gaze linger on the other man’s wind-ruffled hair and soft skin. Even though he’d touched that skin, run his fingers through that hair-

“I wanted to tell you,” Renarin said, “I’m going to Azir. It’s mostly diplomatic, but Father is concerned about the Emuli border and wants someone with Regrowth there in case - in case anything happens.”

“When? How long?” Kaladin was trying not to think about ‘in case anything happens’. Between Regrowth and Stormlight, Renarin was practically indestructible - Kaladin had heard about him taking on a Thunderclast at the Battle of Thaylen City - but the idea of him being in danger still sent a shock of fear down Kaladin’s spine. They hadn’t fought in the same battle since this relationship had started, and that was probably for the best. 

“Tomorrow. We aren’t sure. At least a week.” Renarin met his eyes briefly and then looked away, though he reached out to brush Kaladin’s hand. “Maybe longer depending on what the Azish need. I don’t… expect… anything untoward.” A circumspect way of saying he had seen nothing in his strange future-visions, though Renarin would be the first to admit that his visions could be wrong, and certainly didn’t account for every potential tragedy.

“Alright. I… thank you for telling me.” No, that was wrong. Too rigid. Kaladin grunted, frustrated at his own inadequacy. Why was this so hard? It was so easy to be with Renarin, and so difficult to talk about what they were to each other. He caught Renarin’s hand in his, tangled their fingers together and squeezed, hoping that would say more than his awkward words. Renarin squeezed back.

“Listen, Kaladin… I hope - I mean, I know we haven’t been together for very long but… I’ll miss you.” It sounded like an admission of some kind, a confession, and Renarin’s face was flushed as he spoke. 

If they had been in private, Kaladin could have pulled him in close and kissed him along those high Kholin cheekbones, savoring their warmth and saying with his actions what he couldn’t put into words. He gave in slightly to the temptation, reaching out with his free hand to run a thumb along Renarin’s jaw and tilt the prince’s head up a little bit. Cautiously, treading the fine line of public display, Kaladin pressed his forehead to Renarin’s, their noses just brushing, exhaled breath mingling.

I’ll miss you too, he thought, and Stay safe, and Come back soon. But when he opened his mouth to speak, what came out surprised them both.

“I love you,” he said softly, and then froze. He hadn’t meant to say it - but did he mean it? In a still moment of shock, Kaladin considered. Renarin was careful, but not cowardly; quiet, considered, and observant; always striving to be and do more. He didn’t stand on ceremony or rank, or cling to lighteyed pride, and Kaladin had found that that open, curious mind meant he often had some interesting observation of events or people, provided one was willing to listen. And most of all: he didn’t seem to need Kaladin to be anything more than what he was, even when he was in one of his gray, melancholy moods. They could sit in silence together, and Kaladin never had to pretend he was okay.

He let the words hang between them, waiting, feeling his heartbeat down to the tips of his fingers.

Renarin said, “Oh,” and even in that syllable Kaladin could hear a smile in his voice. “Oh, yes, me too - Kaladin - I love you too-” He tugged on their joined hands and pulled Kaladin forward into an embrace, a tight hug with his fingers splayed across Kaladin’s back, and Kaladin wrapped his arms firmly around Renarin in return. The blue leaves of joyspren twirled around them, and he was almost certain the recruits would be watching… and in that moment, he didn’t care.

[swamp-spirit]

rRules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

I was tagged by @wufflesvetinari, and I love this kind of stuff. You should def check out her stuff too

Also, I chose two sentences for a lot of these, because it turns out the way I write first lines makes first sentences really boring. Also, a lot of these are still ongoing, the date is just when started.

Most Recent -> Least Recent

1. Children of Baltigo - One Piece Fanfic The boy had been broken when Dragon pulled him from the water. 

2. Unnamed - One Piece Fanfic Garp never carried many marks.  Most people were covered in marks as children, possible futures that faded as they chose a path, leaving only the marks that would someday burn into tattoos.

3. Swear on Our Name - One Piece Fanfic A lot of people told Luffy he had no self control, which he thought was pretty unfair.

4. Conflict Resolution via Brawling and Stickers - Collab My Hero Academia Fanfic It’s like seeing a ghost.

5. Augury - My Hero Academia Fanfic “Oh, the Put Your Hands Up is starting! I’ll just put that on for you!”

6. Write it Like Valley - My Hero Academia Fanfic Toshinori knew that Mr. Hirose had probably been dreading this meeting as much as he had. He wished he was petty enough for that to be comforting.

7. American Villain - My Hero Academia Fanfic (oops all OCs) If Holly had to pick the best thing to happen to her villainous career, it would have to be box karaoke.

8. Unnamed - Original Prose Nobody at Twilight was a waiter, not really. Everyone was a writer or an actress or a dancer who just hadn't quite gotten their big break and just happened to be, at the moment, waiting tables.

9. Left to Rot - Original Comic Fade in to young Vanya trying to shake their mother awake. Y!Vanya - Mom? Mom? There’s a lady beside my bed.

10. Three Down (One to Go) - Harry Potter Fanfic The war felt far away at the Potter's. There was a fire lit, warm food, and an atmosphere so calm that even after weeks of fear and horror, 

11. Cut Teeth - Original Prose I told myself the things I did in my dreams didn't reflect who I was.

12. Weak Blood - Stormlight Archive Fanfic Adolin rode slowly so Renarin could keep up. It wasn't that Renarin was bad with horses, but it came naturally to Adolin in the way so many things did.

13. Rethe - Original Comic  [The story opens in the desert on a sunny morning. There are bright carriages pulled by large birds, a giant lizard crawling on the ground, and people walking together. Rous stands alone outside a carriage. He looks about twelve and has finely embroidered clothes and short hair.]

14. Untitled - Original Prose At this time of day, Richard L. Albrit preferred to be in his office, in a clean suit with a competent staff and maybe a glass of whiskey.  Still, as unusual as it was to find himself in dirty trousers, feet buried in the sand, one could not say he was out of his element.

Conclusions: -Quarantine gave me a rare disease where I only write fanfic for shounen manga. (combined with the creative burnout I went through after writing a heterosexual romance visual novel for work three months in a row last summer) -I tend to do a short, simple lead in sentence with a second sentence giving context. -Despite being a dialogue heavy author, I pretty much never open with dialogue. -I need to open on action more than thinking. I tend to open comics on particularly mundane moments.

My favorites are probably 7 and 14. They both set up something slightly jarring.

Anyone who thinks this would be more fun than stressful should do it, but let’s tag: @19catsncounting, @fic-pickyourpoison, @man-destroyer, @renarinkholin, @kogiopsis, @ladyknightradiant

[tanoraqui]

In my defense, I was left unsupervised. Music (I suggest listening at 1/2 or 3/4 speed, so you have time to read)

For those days we felt like a mistake

Teenage Kaladin lays on his parents’ cremmed roof during the Weeping, staring despondently up into the rain

Those times when loves what you hate

Young Shallan kneels on the floor, face in her hands, held by her father, who has placed himself between her and the pooling blood beside them. The shining knife is discarded on the floor, light fading

Somehow We keep marching on

Kaladin and Shallan in the crevasses, Shallan a couple steps ahead with a messy map. She’s turning back to him, and “Storms...she smiled anyway.”

For those nights that I couldn't be there

Dalinar the Blackthorn, racing into battle on Gallant, grinning feral and sharp and eyes just slightly shining red. Shardplate polished and Shardblade gleaming, reflecting the flames around and ahead of him.

I've made it harder to know that you know

Image pans/expands sideways to see Adolin racing after him, on Sureblood with his own Plate and Blade, expression excited but mostly determined to catch up. The flames don’t quite reach back to him

That somehow

Expands again--Renarin is running after them on foot, Bridge Four coat flung over his finer clothes, grimacing with the effort of holding a Blade far too big for his Plateless hands

We'll keep movin' on

Dalinar’s hand opening The Way of Kings; the song lyric is on the page

There's so many wars we fought

Kaladin fighting in Amaram’s army

There's so many things we're not

The Knights Radiant of old, arrayed and shining and glorious, fighting voidbringers (Dalinar watching from the side, a dream?)

But with what we have

Lift and the others on the wall overlooking the palace

I promise you that

Eshonai on the edge of a chasm, looking grim as she leaps with Blade and Plate for the opposite side and the gemheart there

We're marchin' on

Kaladin strung up in the storm, Syl on his chest trying to push back the worst of the wind

We're marchin' on (we’re marchin’ on)

Shallan bent over books in the library while Jasnah reads nearby, far more elegant (fabrial visible; another peeks out of Shallan’s bag)

For all of the plans we made

Overhead shot: Sadeas’ army leaving

There isn't a flag I'd wave

Dalinar watching them go, surrounded by fighting, jaw set

Don't care where we've been

Kaladin leaps across the chasms ahead of the bridge crew, alight with spear and shield, Syl at his back

I'd sink us to swim

Three-point landing and sweep the legs out from under a Parshendi

We're marchin' on

Kaladin, glowing faintly, spears a Parshendi with one hand and offers Dalinar a hand up with the other

We're marchin' on

Shallan walks on the beach, barefoot, bedraggled, and freezing, grimly determined

We're marchin' on

Dalinar purchases Bridge Four for a gemheart

For those doubts that swirl all around us

Eshonai stands on a cliff with her people behind her, all warforms or, some (including Venli), stormform (red light in eyes). They are ready to fight; she is uncertain, maybe wistful

For those lives that tear at the seams

Szeth the Assassin in White on the verge of falling to his knees, staring at his hands--they are clean, as is the blade he grips so tightly that his knuckles are white.All around him are bloody corpses in a feast hall, some in Shardplate, or with half-Shard shields

We know We're not what we've seen

Venli crouches by Eshonai’s stripped corpse in the chasm, still in stormform, looking up at the voidspren that’s urging her to catch up with the others (Parshendi in warform and workform, carrying Eshonai’s Plate and Blade and other things they’ve looted down here). A small bob of light creeps from Eshonai toward her hand

Oh for this dance we move with each other

Lift baseball-slides through half a dozen guards and officials and between Nale’s own legs, as he reaches furiously to catch her. Windle racing to keep up; she is holding a pancake and going to help her friend who is bleeding out on the floor

There ain't no other step than one foot

Jasnah gets to her feet, perhaps with a hand from a full-size Ivory, on the solid ground of Shadesmar in the sea where she was to have drowned. A few beads of the remains of the ship scatter around her; she is drawing Stormlight to heal her bloody and burnt wounds and she looks directly at the viewer with nothing but determination

Right in front of the other

From behind, wide shot: Jasnah stands straight with Ivory, the two of them looking at the expanse of Shadesmar, somewhat silhouetted by that stylized sun that appears over it in Shallan’s chapter images.

There's so many wars we fought

younger Jasnah, helpless on what remains of the balcony, watches the Assassin in White stab her father through the chest

There's so many things we're not

Kaladin, exhausted, bruised/bloody, and stubborn, leans on his spear, Elhokar bleeding behind him (same pose as Galivar; similar hallway). He faces Moash with Plate and Blade, other fighters behind him, sword slightly lowered but still determined, angry

But with what we have

Baxil’s mistress destroys a painting

I promise you that

Rysn jumps off a fucking giant turtle head

We're marchin' on

Taravangian, advisors at his back, flips through the book that holds the notes on the Design

We're marchin' on (We’re marchin’ on)

“The Knights Radiant have returned” - Kaladin, resplendent

For all of the plans we made

The Parshendi calling the Everstorm

There isn't a flag I'd wave

Szeth flies over the plains to the battle, to Dalinar; intent, weeping, and utterly mad

Don't care where we've been

Eshonai locking blades with Adolin at the edge of the cliff, both unseen within their armor

I'd sink us to swim

With a couple scholars (+Renarin) nearby, Shallan slams her Patternblade into the Oathgate’s keyhole

We're marchin' on

Everyone in the same position as above, but the glorious Urithiru Gate room

We're marchin' on

Zoom out to see the full room: frescos, gems, gates to 9 other major cities (labeled). Renarin notably staring in awe.

We're marchin' on

The whole mountain of Urithiru, above the clouds

Right, right, / right, / right, left

Bridge Four practicing surgebinding / Queen Fen of Thaylenah / women (and Renarin) studying gem-saved notes

Right, right, / right, / right, left

Venli speaking to assorted freed Parsh, telling her “story” / those two nerds ardents excitedly studying the quantum nature of flamespren / Shallan weeping in Wit’s arms

Right, right, right, / we’re marchin' on

Elhokar falls (Kaladin watches; Shallan and Adolin are busy) / Dalinar-Navani wedding kiss

We'll have the days we break

Talenel-at sitting in some hospital room, ragged, face in his hands, mad

And we'll have the scars to prove it

Knife slash through a portrait with a halo. Hammer smashing the bust of a beautiful woman. Shalash attacks a painting with compulsive fury

We'll have the bombs that we saved

Ash kneels in front of Taln in that hospital room, clutching his hands, head bowed lower than his, crying because she can’t ask for forgiveness

But we'll have the heart Not to lose it

A moment later: Taln’s head raised to see her; he cups her chin and lifts her face. Ash is still crying, as is he, just a touch. He is also smiling. She is bewildered. “A thousand years...amazing. They will be prepared.”

For all of the times we've stopped

Dalinar at Odium’s feet, on one knee, bowed. Book burning beside him. Odium’s smile is kind, and does not reach his eyes; Dalinar is shaking, and outlined in red

For all of the things I'm not

Jasnah with her Shardblade raised over Renarin with his Bridge Four coat. On the floor before them splay the images--the left, the Thaylen soldiers fighting Voidbringers, Parshendi, and Amaram’s fighters alike; the right, Dalinar (clearly outlined in red) before Odium [above]. The center, Jasnah with her sword plunged into Renarin’s kneeling back

[music pauses as Dalinar’s dream of Nohadon reaches out of the light--gold at the edges, fading to white at the center. Voiceover: “The most important step...is the next one.”]

You put one foot in front of the other

Dalinar stands, shedding the Thrill. It pools at their feet

We've move like we ain't got no other

Jasnah pulls Renarin across the rooftops

We go where we go we're marchin' on Marchin' on

Kaladin, Shallan, and Adolin, and Syl and Pattern and Mayalaran, fighting the Fused before the Oathgate in Shadesmar

There's so many wars we fought

Dalinar unarmed and unarmored, and behind him the flames of the Rift fade into the battle of Thaylen City

There's so many things we're not

Imagined: the first humans, bedraggled and tired, meeting the Dawnsingers, curious and welcoming, in what could only have been Shinovar

But with what we have

Ash and Taln creep through the battle-filled streets, holding hands

I promise you that

Szeth leaves Nale in the sky, choosing Dalinar as his guide to what is right

We're marchin' on

“I am Unity.” (material realm)

We're marchin' on

(cognitive plane [Shadesmar])

We're marchin' on

(spiritual realm)

(We’re marching-- oh) Right, right, right, right, left Right, right, right, right, left Right, right, right (right)

On each “right”, we show a different one of the new(ish) ten(ish), each outlines in stormlight and standing in whatever pose they have as they join Dalinar’s line (or not). The background battle fades instantly to a towering, stylized silhouette of their order’s Herald, who is surrounded (stained glass-esque?) by symbols of that order...and facing away. Kaladin with his Syl-spear for the Windrunners. Elsecaller Jasnah with sword in one hand and flame in the other. Szeth of the Skybreakers in white with a black blade. For the Willshapers, the half-transparent shade of Eshonai has her hands on Venli’s shoulders. Renarin, Truthwatchers, ready to throw a punch and eyes gone pale gold. Edgedancer Lift with her Windle-spoon. Shallan of the Lightweavers with echoes of Radiant and Veil on either side. For the Dustbringers, there is nobody--Ash is to one side, ducking away, and Malata is to the other, arms folded, not participating. The only Herald silhouette facing forward and holding a sword is Taln of the Stonewards, as Taln of the present day cringes. (Ash and Taln visibly similar to their former selves--same hair outline, maybe?) Dalinar, Bondsmith, flattens out Ishar’s shadow with the light of the Perpendicularity he still holds open.

Marchin' on (we're marchin' on)

All of them together, facing Odium

We're marchin' on

Odium and his army - Parsh, Fused, Amaram’s soldiers, thunderclasts...

Right, right, / right, / right, left

Szeth and Lift try to hold Nightblood / Kaladin clashes with corrupted!Amaram / Jasnah reaches up and turns an attacking Fused to crystal without missing a beat in her conversation with Navani

Right, right, / right, / right, left

Lopen looks, dismayed, at his glowing hands, half a second after offering reassurance and accidentally swearing an Oath / Renarin shyly introduces Glys to Jasnah / Shallan’s brothers at her door

Right, right, right, right

Pan across the length of Roshar, pull out to the solar system to glimpse Ashyn and Braize

Marchin' on (oh oh oh)

Taravangian in his Diagram that Odium has turned every which way and set ablaze with golden light. Zoom in: hidden in the corner, written in darkness: Renarin Kholin

[emjenenla]

I’m safe inside the light, so go on do your worst Part Two [A Stormlight Archive Fanfic]

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Elhokar was a failure at everything he’d ever done. He’d failed as a son, as a warrior and as a king. He saw no reason to fail as a Knight Radiant too. Or the one where Elhokar swears to the first Ideal at the end of WoK.

Warnings: Domestic Violence, Self-Esteem Issues

You know how I said this was going to be three parts? Yeah, I lied. At least this new four-part plan gives you more story to chew on while I inevitably get writer's block trying to deal with the failed get-Sadeas-to-duel-Adolin scheme which is my least favorite part of WoR for reasons that have nothing to do with Elhokar.

Also, I am planning to change the title of this work once I come up with something better, so the title might be different by the time I post part three.

Life went on, at least that was probably what happened to people who hadn’t been attacked by their uncles and bullied into handing over some more of their already shaky power. Elhokar, however, was having a hard time going on. At first he had nightmares that sometimes caused him to scream so loudly that his guards came running (of course they did that now when he wasn’t in any actual danger). After that had gone on for a while Elhokar became so terrified of reliving Dalinar’s attack in his dreams that he couldn’t sleep unless he downed a couple glasses of violet wine before lying down. When he was awake, he so panicky that he jumped at shadows and the smallest slights and threats were enough to send him into fits of hysterics.

And then there was the problem of the Stormlight. The spheres in his lamps and pockets were constantly going dun, some within hours of being recharged. Shadow had explained that was a byproduct of their bond and that Elhokar could learn to use the Light to do things if he practiced, but Elhokar didn’t even want to think about actually using the Light; he needed to figure out how to make it stop. He drew on a fair amount of Stormlight every time someone so much as mentioned Dalinar, eventually he was going to get caught and he didn’t want to explain what was happening.

“You look terrible. Have you slept?” Navani asked one morning when he was visiting her in her chambers.

“I’m fine,” Elhokar said. Shadow buzzed quietly, but Elhokar silently argued that it wasn’t really a lie. He was a lot more alert than he should have been given that he was running on about three hours of toss and turn sleep and a hangover. He suspected all the Stormlight had something to do with how surprisingly decent he was feeling, but he wasn’t about to tell Navani that.

“And you’ve been more anxious recently too,” Navani went on. “What’s been bothering you?”

“Oh, the usual,” Elhokar lied, making sure he kept his gaze focused on the view of the Plains out the window while he spoke. He was learning to be a better liar--something he couldn’t tell if Shadow liked or not--but he still couldn’t look someone in the eyes and lie convincingly, “Nothing particularly worth mentioning.”

Navani didn’t respond for a long time, and eventually Elhokar turned to look at her. Her lips were pressed together in thought, like she had sensed the lie and was trying to scope out the the truth. Navani and her two children had been cursed with the utter inability to truly understand each other. That said, Elhokar and Navani were much closer than Navani and Jasnah were because Navani found Elhokar at the very least less inscrutable than Jasnah. Navani might have been able to figure out at least part of what was bothering Elhokar if given enough time and he didn’t want to risk it.

“Mother,” he said as gently as possible. “Nothing out of the ordinary is wrong.”

“Dalinar said you’ve been calling him to investigate less supposed assassination attempts,” Navani said. “It’s good that your fear of assassination is fading, though I wish you would confide in me about what this new worry is. You’re starting to look like a walking corpse.”

Elhokar didn’t have the heart to tell her that his fear of assassination was just as strong as it had ever been, but that it had now been eclipsed by the fear of being assassinated by Dalinar.

The next time Dalinar held one of his “Oh look, my brilliant plan to use my ill-gotten power to force people to do what I want isn’t working” planning meetings, he brought along a contingency of darkeyed guards. Elhokar, like everyone else in the Warcamps, had heard about the bridgemen Dalinar had freed from Sadeas and turned into guards, but this was the first time he’d actually seen them. He was leery at first, as he always was of new people, but their leader--a serious man younger than Renarin with slave marks and a shash brand on his forehead--turned out to be very open to the idea that someone might be trying to hurt his charges which was refreshing. Still, Elhokar reminded himself that these bridgemen were even more firmly indebted to Dalinar than Elhokar’s lighteyed guards were; he could not trust them to actually save him if Dalinar told them not to.

Even though Elhokar was technically supposed to be in charge, Dalinar took over the planning, rambling around disarming the highprinces and treating them like new recruits and a million other things that were probably going to get not just him and Elhokar killed but everyone they cared about too. Elhokar tried to point that out, hoping that appealing to Dalinar’s hopefully more genuine feelings for Navani, Adolin and Renarin would actually convince the man to see sense.

“Yes, you are right,” Dalinar said, regretfully. “I hadn’t… but yes. That is how they think.” He sounded so sincere and gentle, like a kindly old grandfather. How did he manage that? Elhokar was torn between wanting to run the other way and wanting to get down on his knees and beg for the secret.

“And you’re still willing to go through with this plan?”

“I have no choice,” Dalinar said like that should be obvious.

Elhokar forced himself to go on, “Then at least tell me this: What is your endgame, Uncle? What is it you want out of all this? In a year, if we survive this fiasco, what do you want us to be?” That was boldest Elhokar had dared to be with Dalinar since the incident, and the sheer audacity of it made his stomach clench.

Dalinar was silent for a long time, simply staring out the window. “I’ll have us be what we were before, son. A kingdom that can stand through storms, a kingdom that is a light and not a darkness. I will have a truly unified Alethkar, with highprinces who are loyal and just. I’ll have more than that. I’m going to refound the Knights Radiant.”

Captain Kaladin jerked like he’d just been stung by something. Elhokar felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. He hadn’t really thought about what his strange connection to a creature claiming to be a spren meant, but Jasnah had used him as a sounding board on occasion--most likely because she’d assumed he wouldn’t understand what she was talking about--and some things had stuck in his head. Shadow began buzzing in a soft but discordant tone Elhokar had learned meant she was upset. That only confirmed his budding suspicions; whatever was happening to him had something to do with the Knights Radiant.

Great.

“Are you mad, Brightlord?” Brightness Teshav asked. “The Radiants? You’re going to try to rebuild a sect of traitors who gave us over to the Voidbringers?”

“The rest of this sounds good, Father,” Adolin said with a calm logic that most people probably wouldn’t have believed he possessed. “I know you think about the Radiants a lot, but you see them...differently than everyone else. It won’t go well if you announce that you want to emulate them.”

Elhokar felt like he was standing by watching everything even remotely sane about his life crumble to ash. Where they really seriously discussing refounding the Knights Radiant? The idea should have been dismissed as a joke the instant it was brought up, but Adolin and Brightness Teshav were trying to come up with logical reasons why refounding an organization of traitors that everyone hated was a bad idea. They were all so in Dalinar’s thrawl that they were actually considering it.

That wasn’t even the only problem. Shadow wouldn’t have gotten worked up if Dalinar was just spouting nonsense. Her reaction suggested that there was a real connection between her and the Knights Radiant, which meant that there was a real connection between Elhokar and the Knights Radiant.

Elhokar couldn’t help it, he covered his face and groaned.

“Am I a Knight Radiant?” Elhokar asked Shadow the instant they were alone.

She paused for a moment as if considering how she wanted to respond. “Not yet,” she said slowly.

“So I’m supposed to be a Knight Radiant,” Elhokar pushed on. “Dalinar is actually on the right track.”

“The way he plans to refound the Knights Radiant is not the way it is supposed to happen,” Shadow said. “The Knights Radiant must rise again, but it should be at the initiative of those who were chosen not at the behest of some over-zealous warlord with visions he thinks are from the Almighty.”

“People who are chosen,” Elhokar repeated. “People like me? Why would you choose me to be a Knight Radiant? Unless you want to make sure everyone hates them again. You can’t honestly expect me to believe that you thought I could actually manage to be a hero.”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe you capable of,” Shadow said. “It’s what you believe yourself capable of that matters.”

“Why do you always do that?” Elhokar burst out.

“Do what?” Shadow asked. She actually had the audacity to sound confused.

“Talk about me like I’m not a failure of a king and a pushover,” Elhokar said. “You’ve seen plenty of proof of both, why keep denying it?”

“One of us needs to have some self-esteem,” Shadow said curtly. “And since it’s obviously not going to be you…”

“What do you want me to do, Shadow?” Elhokar snapped marching across the room and flinging his hand out to his side. “Summon my Shardblade and waltz around the warcamps proclaiming the Knights Radiant reborn? If I was lucky people might actually kill me for being a legitimate threat and not just because Alethkar can’t have an insane ruler.”

“Elhokar,” Shadow said in a very peculiar tone. “You might not want to draw your-”

Elhokar’s Shardblade formed in his hand and the instant his fingers closed around it a dreadful screaming filled his head. It was as if something was crying out in pain, like something had been trapped unendingly in the moment of its murder.

Elhokar cried out and dropped the Shardblade. The instant he let go of the Blade the screaming stopped. Elhokar stumbled across the room and threw up in one decorative vases in the corner of the room. The screaming was one of the most horrid he’d ever experienced, up there with the battles which were little more than wholesale slaughters Gavilar and Dalinar had made him witness as a child to “give him a stomach for fighting.”

The guards burst in because they were evidently still under orders to pretend to care about his well being when it suited Dalinar. “I’m fine,” Elhokar growled, spitting bile into the vase. “Get out.”

“Your Majesty-” the guard began.

“Am I your king or not?” Elhokar snapped. “I ordered you out. Get out!”

The guards blinked looking like they were surprised to see their charge doing something other than whining about assassination attempts. “Yes, Your Majesty.” They said and slunk out of the room.

Elhokar leaned back against the wall and slid to the floor in a trembling heap. “You see?” He said to Shadow. “I can’t even use a Shardblade anymore.”

“I hate those things,” Shadow said coasting across the floor towards him. “They’re perversions.”

“I don’t care what you think of them,” Elhokar said. “No one will take an Alethi King who can’t use a Shardblade seriously.”

Shadow was silent for an almost outrageously long time. “What?” Elhokar asked when he couldn’t take it anymore.

“As time goes on I remember more and more,” Shadow said slowly. “I’m just not sure what I should tell you and what you should be allowed to figure out for yourself.”

“Oh,” Elhokar groaned. “So now you’re hiding things from me.”

“I-” Shadow seemed a little thrown. “I’m just not sure if telling you would be the best way to do it. I don’t want to hurt your development by telling you something you were supposed to figure it out on your own. Though I suppose if it bothers you so much I could just-”

She was cut off by a fist pounding heavily on the door. “Elhokar? Elhokar are you alright?” Dalinar. Elhokar felt his entire body go stiff. “Elhokar!”

Elhokar didn’t respond. His heart was beating wildly in his throat. Maybe if he said nothing Dalinar would just go away.

No such luck. “Elhokar, I’m coming in,” Dalinar said and forced his way into the room. Elhokar tried to stay as still and quiet as possible, but Dalinar saw him right away.

“Are you alright?” Dalinar crossed the floor in a couple steps to kneel before him. “The guards said you were sick.”

“I’m fine.” Elhokar said. If he was someone like Dalinar or even Adolin he might have managed to say that so it was believable or at least so no one would question him. However, Elhokar had a feeling that he just sounded like a child who was terrified his uncle was going to beat him up.

“Elhokar,” Dalinar said. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Elhokar lied. He couldn’t look Dalinar in the face so instead he stared at the man’s shoulder. “It must have just been something I ate. I’m feeling better now.”

“The guards said they heard you scream,” Dalinar said. “Did something else happen?”

“I’m fine!” Elhokar pushed himself to his feet and crossed the room, trying hide that he was still shaking.

Dalinar was silent and when Elhokar turned he was studying him with his lips pursed. “What?” he asked.

“You’re not panicking about being poisoned,” Dalinar said. He spoke in a tone of voice that suggested he didn’t realize he was being sort of insulting. “I’ve never known you to be this calm in the face of the unexpected.”

Calm? Elhokar’s stomach was still churning and he wasn’t completely convinced he wasn’t going to throw up again. He couldn’t get the memory of the screaming out of his head, and Dalinar’s presence was doing nothing for his nerves. He was anything but calm.

“There’s nothing wrong,” Elhokar said trying to look calmer than he actually was. “I told you; it was probably just something I ate. I feel better now.”

Dalinar studies him for a moment then stood up. “You might be right, but I still think it would be best if you let someone look at you. You’re not acting like yourself.”

Elhokar had to bite his tongue to hold back a snort of laughter. He spent half his life trying to convince Dalinar to take his fears seriously and the one time he tried to get him to ignore something the man latched onto it. It was almost unbelievable.

“Fine,” He eventually said. “If it makes you feel better. I’m not going anywhere.”

“It does,” Dalinar said with a nod. “I’ll be right back,” and he left.

Elhokar sighed and sunk down into the sofa and leaned his head against the armrest.

“His plan won’t work,” Shadow grumbled. It sounded a little like she was just beginning to vocalize the thoughts that had been running through her mind the entire time Dalinar had been there. “You can’t expect strong-arming people who don’t like you to work.”

“It works on me,” Elhokar whispered, his voice so quiet that it was barely more than air blowing over his lips. “And he knows it. He knows. He knows it all. He must.”

“What do you mean by ‘he knows it all?’” Shadow asked.

“Nothing,” Elhokar said perhaps a bit louder than he should have.

Shadow was silent for so long that Elhokar started to think the conversation was over, then she said, “The Words you swore after our run-in with Dalinar are the only official Oaths that you have to swear,” she spoke gently but very deliberately, like she knew she might upset him but felt that she needed to speak anyway. “However, the bond between us becomes stronger each time you reveal a deep truth about yourself. The less people who know the truth, the more powerful it is. If you’re hiding something it might be best to just confess it now and get it over with.”

Elhokar’s stomach clenched at the thought. While he didn’t tell a lot of outright lies he did have a number of things he simply hid. Still, what Shadow was asking about, that was different. She was asking for the only thing that he had never told anyone, not even his sister. It was a secret that would confirm all the worst things that had ever been said about him. It was a secret so horrible and shameful that if he told it, no one, not even a liespren, would ever associate with him again. He would become the ultimate liability.

“There’s nothing to tell,” he said.

“Elhokar,” Shadow began.

“That’s all.” he snapped and deliberately closed his eyes, effectively ending the conversation.

Things passed tensely which was not necessarily a surprise. Brightlord Amaram showed up which made Dalinar really happy, though Elhokar couldn’t figure out if that was just because he liked Amaram or because the brightlord was part of Dalinar’s plan. He was honestly afraid to ask.

They continued on with the planning meetings, though Dalinar’s plan still seemed insane. During one such meeting, Elhokar hung on until he couldn’t stand it anymore then headed out onto the balcony to get some air. He still couldn’t be around Dalinar and remain calm, not to mention other things were worrying him. Jasnah was supposed to have arrived at the Shattered Plains with Adolin’s new causal betrothed, but there had been no sign of either woman and no word. No one else seemed to be worrying about it, they kept saying things like “Jasnah always gets distracted and runs off to do other things. She’ll turn up.” Elhokar was worried, but of course he was always worried and as a result no one took him seriously, even though from what Navani had said it seemed like Jasnah had been quite keen on coming to the Shattered Plains.

Elhokar was worrying about all the harms which could have befallen his sister when he leaned against the railing and the whole thing gave way. For one horrible instant he was falling then he grabbed hold of a stable piece of railing and was jerked to a stop. He sucked in a breath and his veins flared up with Stormlight giving him enough strength to hold on and probably haul himself up once he calmed down enough to think. He swore as fouly as he was able, completely throwing all kingly decorum to the winds.

Adolin reached him first, and clung to his wrists until Dalinar arrived and they hauled Elhokar back up onto the balcony together. Elhokar half wanted to protest that he could have climbed up on his own, but he wasn’t known for his upper body strength and he didn’t want people asking pointed questions.

Once he was safely back up on the balcony, Dalinar ushered Elhokar inside with a hand on his back, seemingly unaware of how every muscle in Elhokar’s body tensed at his touch. Elhokar separated himself from his uncle as soon as possible and pointedly did not look towards the balcony. He wouldn’t be going out there again for a long time, possibly not ever. He kept his teeth clenched together, refusing to allow any of the words he wanted to say escape. He didn’t think he could handle his fears being pushed aside again.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Adolin said. He sounded breathless and flustered, which was weird, because Elhokar had always been under the impression that neither of his cousins particularly liked him. “What are the chances that an entire section of soulcast railing just gives way right when the king leans against it? It must have been an assassination attempt.”

Elhokar held his breath as he waited for Dalinar to berate Adolin and tell him that he was overreacting. However, all Dalinar did was look at Elhokar like he was hoping Elhokar had suddenly gone deaf and hadn’t heard then said, “You have a very legitimate point. Has someone sent for Captain Kaladin?”

Highstorms were on the list of things that didn’t terrify Elhokar. Sure, they made him uncomfortable, but no more so than any other person. If anything, he was actually less anxious during Highstorms because no one could get to him to assassinate him. Highstorms were better protection than bodyguards, especially when all your bodyguards were more loyal to your uncle than they were to you.

Ever since they’d realized that Dalinar was experiencing visions from the Almighty during Highstorms not raving madly, he and Navani had spent the Highstorms closed up in a private room. Dalinar described his visions and Navani copied them down, normally phonetically because Dalinar didn’t usually speak Alethi and often spoke in languages or dialects even Navani didn’t know. Navani had mentioned once in passing that she wished she had Jasnah to help her, and Elhokar had quickly avoiding the topic, because the easiest way to not to be terrified about his sister’s safety was not to think about her at all.

This particular Highstorm, Captain Kaladin was head of their guards, though the man bizarrely fell asleep partway through the Storm, something that Elhokar hadn’t even realized was possible. Adolin thought it was pretty funny and started speculating about how long it would take the bridgeman to notice if he drew a mustache on him.

“Remind me not to fall asleep around Adolin,” Elhokar muttered to Shadow, shifting into a more comfortable position in his armchair.

“I will keep that in mind,” Shadow said. “It would be very embarrassing if your cousin were to draw-” then she cut herself off and began buzzing in her high-pitched, something’s wrong tone.

Elhokar scrambled to his feet and headed to the privy without looking at Adolin and Renarin for fear of them seeing something. The roar of the Highstorm could cover Shadow’s voice when she was being quiet, but he didn’t want to risk someone hearing her like this.

He closed and locked the privy door behind him and turned to face the mirror, looking directly at the place where Shadow was riding on his shirt just over his heart, half-hidden by his coat. “Alright, what happened?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

Shadow buzzed again, a high-pitched, whining sound. She was actually vibrating a little, almost like a tremor. “Something’s coming,” she said, her words so full of frightened buzz that she was hard to understand. “It’s bad. He’s bad.”

“What do you mean ‘he?’” Elhokar asked, a sinking feeling starting in his chest and travelling down to his stomach.

“Elhokar,” Shadow said quietly, still vibrating. “It’s not safe.”

Elhokar pushed the privy door open and burst out into the main room. The scene had changed. The door to Dalinar and Navani’s room was open and Adolin and Renarin were standing in it, Captain Kaladin was nowhere in sight. Elhokar struck out across the room trying to decide how to approach this. It wasn’t like he could say that a spren had told him it wasn’t safe, but if he said anything else people would just think he was being paranoid.

When he reached his cousins he found that Captain Kaladin was inside the room talking to Navani. “Can you wake him?” the bridgeman was asking. “We need to leave this room, leave this place.”

“What’s going on?” Elhokar asked pushing by his cousins and stepping into the room.

“You’re not safe here, Your Majesty,” Kaladin said. There was a wild sort of knowing in his gaze, the same kind of knowing that was burning its way through Elhokar’s veins. This bridgeman knew something was wrong, Elhokar wasn’t sure how but he knew. “We need to get you out of the palace and take you to the warcamp.”

“This is ridiculous,” Adolin objected from behind him. “This is the safest place in the warcamps. You want us to leave? Drag the king out into the storm?”

“We need to wake the highprince,” Kaladin said, turning towards Dalinar. Elhokar was impressed by the man’s refusal to be pushed aside even after being called ridiculous.

Dalinar caught Kaladin’s arm before the bridgeman could do anything. “The highprince is awake,” he said. “What is going on here?”

“The bridgeboy wants us to evacuate the palace,” Adolin explained.

Dalinar looked to Kaldin for his explanation.

“It’s not safe here, sir.” Kaladin said.

“What makes you say that?”

There was slight, almost awkward pause then Kaladin said, “Instinct, sir.”

Dalinar stared at Kaladin for a minute then he got to his feet. “We go, then.”

Elhokar breathed an audible sigh of relief, that got him a weird look from everyone in the room, but thankfully Kaladin was too worried about whatever instinct had him asking for them to move to let anyone ask questions. He ran to the door, gave some orders to his men, then came back and grabbed Elhokar by the arm. Elhokar jerked and almost pulled away, but reminded himself that he was supposed to be a confused king, not a maybe-Radiant who knew something was going on and let himself be lead.

They ran down the hall towards the kitchens. Kaladin’s hand was like a vice around Elhokar’s arm, cutting off his circulation. It did nothing to make Elhokar less nervous. He would have liked to be able to pretend that his captain of guard knew how to protect them from whatever threat they were facing.

They came around the corner and there were no lights. Elhokar had never known the palace to ever have a dark hallway, even during the Weeping. Something was very wrong.

“Wait,” Adolin said, voicing everyone’s concerns. “Why is it dark? What happened to the spheres?”

The realization struck Elhokar a moment later. “They’ve been drained of Stormlight.”

Kaladin jerked like he hadn’t expected anyone else to realize that. Then he pulled out a sphere for light and they could all see the hole cut into the wall leading outside.

“Danger,” Shadow buzzed. “Danger.”

There was movement from a side corridor, then a figure dressed all in white and streaming Stormlight stepped into the hallway and Elhokar’s heart stopped. He had not actually seen the Assassin in White the night the man had killed Gavilar, but he’d been obsessed with and terrified by the man for six years so he knew what the man looked like.

All around him his family members and the bridgemen burst into motion, but Elhokar was frozen. He was staring down the thing he had feared for years, and he couldn’t breathe let alone think.

One of the bridgemen, grabbed him by the arm and Elhokar jumped. “Your majesty,” the bridgeman said. “Come with me.”

Elhokar let the bridgeman drag him down the hall, away from the darkness and the death. Vaguely he was aware of Navani and Renarin and another bridgeman running with them, but he could barely focus on anything. His chest was tight as a vice and there was a roaring in his ears.

They stopped running and Elhokar’s legs gave out. He slid to the floor in a pathetic heap, wheezing for breath. “Moash, where did the Assassin go?” Renarin asked from somewhere above him. “Is he not following?”

“Maybe he got stopped by the Kal and others,” the bridgeman who hadn’t been dragging Elhokar along--Moash?--said.

“Captain Kaladin can take him,”  the other bridgeman said.

A hand settled on Elhokar’s shoulder. “Elhokar?” Navani asked. “Are you alright?”

“I can’t breathe,” Elhokar panted.

Moash might have snorted and muttered something under his breath, but Elhokar was too busy trying to breathe to really worry about it. Navani ran a hand up and down his back, comfortingly.

“Is he alright?” the other bridgeman asked. “What’s wrong?”

“He’ll be fine,” Navani said. “This happens sometimes.”

“I can carry him if we need to,” Renarin said sounding annoyed.

That was a level of humiliation that Elhokar would not stand. He struggled to his feet. “I’m fine,” he said, still trying to get air to circulate through his lungs. “We can go now.”

Navani got up, but kept her hand on his elbow. She looked at him like she wanted to ask a question, but he pointedly ignored her. Why couldn’t she let him at least attempt to pretend this hadn’t happened? No to mention, they did need to move. The Assassin could have killed Dalinar, Adolin and Kaladin by now and be stalking the halls for them. Elhokar desperately wanted to ask Shadow if she could tell where the Assassin was, but he already looked weak enough without seeming to talk to himself.

Moash was staring at him with an expression that wasn’t exactly neutral, though Elhokar couldn’t figure out what it was instead. “Alright,” the bridgeman said. “Let’s go.”

On the day that Dalinar held a meeting of all the highprinces to discuss the threat of the Assassin in White, Elhokar was somewhere on the weird line between hungover and still drunk. He’d been drinking quite a bit since Dalinar had attacked him in an effort to calm his nerves, but in the days since the Assassin it had increased exponentially. This was partially to keep from panicking and partially because he wasn’t stupid enough not to realize that the Assassin had actually been after Dalinar. He was stuck somewhere between shame that not even the Assassin in freaking White thought he was enough of a threat to bother killing and guilty relief that he might get to survive the whole fiasco. Either way, he was stuck at a meeting being lead by his usurping uncle and not brave enough to do anything about it even while mildly intoxicated.

With no better options, Elhokar sat on his throne and let Dalinar do the talking. Even knowing that Dalinar was the one in real danger he still felt horribly exposed without his Shardplate. Perhaps he actually was, after all someone had masterminded the railing assassination attempt and that probably hadn’t been the Assassin. However, he couldn’t actually wear the armor because the gems on the inside kept cracking or going dun. He had a feeling that had something to do with him being a Knight Radiant in the making, so he’d stopped wearing the Plate to keep people from asking questions he couldn’t answer.

Unsurprisingly to probably everyone but Dalinar, the meeting accomplished nothing. When they paused for a break several hours in the only indication that any time had passed was the change in the sun’s position. Elhokar was now firmly on the hungover side of the intoxication scale, and the bright sunlight filtering into the chamber was only making his headache worse. He was pretty sure he could use Stormlight to make himself feel better, but he’d been getting really paranoid about people noticing how often his person spheres were going dun. He would probably only use the Stormlight if he started to feel like he was going to throw up, because vomiting during a meeting like this would be a level of humiliating he refused to sink to.

He’d been sitting for several minutes nursing a goblet of orange wine and contemplating a stronger color to test something Jasnah had mentioned once about hangovers basically being withdrawals, when Navani turned away from the conversation she had been having and practically fled from the room. Dalinar was left standing with a red-haired girl Elhokar had never seen before, looking like he was thinking about going after her but couldn’t decide if that was his job.

Elhokar was on his feet almost before he decided to move. He didn’t bother with any excuses because the highprinces were all to busy scheming to pretend that Elhokar was little more than a comma to their obsession with beating Dalinar. Still a couple people did look up and call after him, but he ignored them and ducked into the cool and dim hallway after his mother.

Navani had been moving fast and had already vanished around a corner. Elhokar broke into a jog to catch up. Each step drove a spear of pain into his brain so he finally sucked in a little Stormlight to ease his headache. The passage was empty and that was a little unnerving; Elhokar hadn’t been without guards since his father’s death.

When he rounded the first corner he saw Navani up ahead. “Mother!” he called breaking into a faster pace that would probably be classified as an actual run.

For one minute Elhokar thought she was just going to ignore him, but then she stopped in the middle of the hallway and whirled to face him just as he caught up. There were actual tears in her eyes and the sight of them froze Elhokar’s blood. He had never seen seen Navani cry.

“Mother?” Elhokar ventured, hesitantly. “What’s wrong?”

Navani took a deep, shaky breath. “That girl,” she said, “apparently she just arrived in the Warcamps. She claims to be Shallan Davar.”

“Who?” Elhokar asked blankly. The name sounded vaguely familiar but he wasn’t able to place it.

“Jasnah’s new ward,” Navani said. “The one who we were talking about marrying to Adolin.”

“Right,” Elhokar said, a little knot of anxiety loosening. If Jasnah’s ward was here that meant Jasnah must be here too, she was fine. He’d been worrying for nothing. “Then I’m afraid that I don’t understand what’s wrong. Isn’t that good?”

“This girl says,” Navani swallowed unsteadily. “That during their trip here they were attacked by pirates and that…And that Jasnah was killed.”

The small sliver of relief died. Elhokar felt a hole open up inside himself. He didn’t try to convince himself that it wasn’t true. He knew it was true. He’d known for weeks that something horrible had happened to Jasnah, all this was confirmation. His sister was gone. “Mother,” he said, a sob coloring his voice. “I-”

“The girl must be an imposter,” Navani said, straightening her spine and making as if to push her hair out of her face though it was still perfectly in place. “She must be lying. Jasnah will show up. She always does.”

“Mother,” Elhokar said, trying to figure out how to tell one of the most rational women alive that she was being irrational. “I don’t think that girl would-” And then it really hit him. Jasnah was gone. Jasnah who had once when they were children tried to comfort him while he cried by rambling about how tears were just meant to lubricate the eyes so crying when emotional didn’t actually make any sense. Jasnah who had at least listened to his worries even if she thought they were as irrational as everyone else did. Jasnah who had looked at him as her shadow fell in an impossible direction and trusted him to keep it a secret. Jasnah who had probably been a potential Radiant and everything that the refounded Order both Dalinar and Shadow wanted on their side. One sob burst out of his mouth and another and another. He tried to force them back, but he couldn’t.

Navani’s safehand came to rest gently on the side of his face. He looked up at her and her face crumbled into a sob as well. They sank to the floor and clutched at each other in a heap of sobbing bodies. Elhokar’s face was pressed against Navani’s shoulder and hers was pressed against his. They were gripping each other’s clothes in white-knuckle grips, squeezing each other so tightly it was a wonder they could breathe.

Dimly Elhokar was aware that this was wrong. Alethi didn’t break down, let alone is hallways where anyone could walk by. Even Elhokar, weak as he was, hadn’t cried for his father, and if Navani had cried for her husband it was only when no one could see her. They shouldn’t be doing this, but he wasn’t sure if he could stop.

Some indeterminable amount of time later, Elhokar became aware of someone clearing their throat rather loudly. He lifted his head from Navani’s shoulder, where he’d managed to soak a patch of her dress with his tears. Moash was standing a handful of paces distant with a look of open hatred on his face. It wasn’t the kind of contempt Elhokar would have expected from an Alethi discovering other Alethi in an emotionally compromised position, it was a look of pure, animal hatred. It was only there for a moment, then it was gone. Elhokar must have just been paranoid. Still, he wished that Kaladin spent more time guarding him and not this man, even if you didn’t believe Adolin’s crazy story about Kaladin taking a Shardblade to an arm that was now completely healthy.

“What?” he asked. His voice clogged with tears and snot. It was humiliating.

“The meeting is beginning again,” Moash said, voice normal, if a bit clipped. “I will need to escort you back. It’s not safe with the Assassin in White running around.”

They could not go back, not with evidence of their breakdowns imprinted clearly on their faces. Elhokar might have been able to use Stormlight to erase that, but what he could do needed to remain a secret. “In case you hadn’t noticed,” he said to Moash. “The Assassin is after Dalinar, so we’re probably fine.”

He felt Navani stiffen, apparently she like everyone else thought he hadn’t figured that out. Thankfully she didn’t comment, because when she straightened up she pushed her now slightly messy hair back and said, “You can escort us to my son’s chambers. If you’re so worried, you can post more guards for us there.”

Moash argued a little, but no one could stand up to Navani Kholin when she had her mind made up. Eventually he did as she asked and Elhokar found himself curled up with Navani in his big bed. They cried on and off for a long time, and eventually Elhokar ended up lying with his head buried in a pillow while Navani stroked his head the way she had when he was a child. Neither of them said a word.

Elhokar was on the edge of sleep when someone knocked tentatively on the door. “Enter,” Navani called, her powerful queen’s voice back.

The door opened and someone came in. “Are you alright?” Dalinar asked. Elhokar stiffened a little, but Navani’s fingers kept running through his hair and that relaxed him again. Navani would protect him. She wouldn’t let Dalinar attack him again. He resumed his slow float to sleep.

“We’re fine,” Navani replied stiffly.

“Navani…” Dalinar sounded like he wasn’t sure how to proceed. “About Jasnah-”

“Don’t say anything about Jasnah,” Navani said tightly. “There’s nothing to say. That girl must be mistaken. Jasnah will be back.”

“Navani, you can’t just-” Dalinar paused as he tried to figure out what to say, but Elhokar never got to hear what he came up with, because that was when he slid away into the relatively peaceful embrace of sleep.

[chasmfriend]

Oh, Renarin.

I have talked at length before about what I love about Renarin’s character, his quiet strength, his utter willingness to give. I worried at one point during Oathbringer that those things were being jeopardized.

When I calmed down and quietly watched him (something that’s necessary to really see him), I saw that he hadn’t changed. Renarin is still Renarin. His character shone through.

Rereading his part with Adolin at the end of Chapter 10 has a new meaning:

“Adolin, I was starting to fit in. With Bridge Four, with being a Shardbearer. Now, I’m in the darkness again. Father expects me to be a Radiant, so I can help him unite the world. But how am I supposed to learn?”

Adolin scratched his chin with his good hand. “Huh. I assumed that it just kind of came to you. It hasn’t?”

“Some has. But it … frightens me, Adolin.” He held up his hand, and it started to glow, wisps of Stormlight trailing off it, like smoke from a fire. “What if I hurt someone, or ruin things?”

“You’re not going to,” Adolin said. “Renarin, that’s the power of the Almighty himself.”

Renarin only stared at that glowing hand, and didn’t seem convinced.

Renarin’s expressing doubts he can’t explain to Adolin. He’s genuinely afraid of ruining things, because he knows something is wrong. Adolin assumes it’s self-doubt, but Renarin’s afraid of being “in the darkness” and he’s scared. “What if I hurt someone, or ruin things?” If Adolin had known exactly what Renarin was dealing with, perhaps he wouldn’t have been so quick to reassure his brother.

And no wonder Renarin wasn’t persuaded by Adolin’s saying “that’s the power of the Almighty himself”, because Renarin knew it wasn’t.

“I’m a different order of Radiant,” Renarin says to Rock.  And later, “I don’t know what I am most days, Rock, but I seem to be the only one.” Both of these carry a heavier meaning to him.

“When you say these things, you are almost not bitter!” Lunamor said. “Ha! Much practice must have been required.”

“A lifetime.”

Oh, my heart. Renarin is very good at hiding his struggles and not being bitter about them, and Rock sees through it. It’s not easy to be Renarin. But he hasn’t let bitterness overcome him.

I want to talk about young Renarin. First, that his name means “like one who was born unto himself” is perfect. Like Renarin, it’s unique and strange; like Renarin, it almost doesn’t make sense. But it fits him.

I think Renarin had difficulties similar to what his mother experienced, being a part of society but never integrated in, always standing apart. Though perhaps Renarin’s differences run deeper than Evi’s did.

This part stood out to me:

Renarin stepped in and hugged him. Dalinar flinched, bracing as if for a punch. The boy clung to him, not letting go.

We haven’t seen Renarin giving a hug like this to anyone. He never initiates a hug and never clings. And then he says this:

“They talk about you,” Renarin said, “but they’re wrong. You just need to rest, after all the fighting you did. I know. And I miss her too.”

This is not the Renarin we know. He gives affection, gives words of comfort, reaches out. He’s trying so hard to help. I can only guess that the years of neglect and not fitting in with Alethi society squashed that child into silence and withdrawal.

So, Renarin remains in the background, quiet.

Then Jasnah finds him in the temple of Pailiah. He saw a vision of Jasnah approaching him, saw her kill him.

But Renarin isn’t as concerned about that.

Renarin didn’t want to die. But strangely, he found himself welcoming Jasnah’s strike.

This reminds me of him in the arena in WoR, kneeling on the ground and baring his throat to Relis during the duel.

Better to die than to live to see what was happening to his father.

And there he is. There’s my Renarin. Unconcerned with himself, he worries instead about Dalinar. He sees Dalinar’s fate in the vision, his father becoming Odium’s champion, as much worse than his own death. He knows what a betrayal it would be to not only his father, but to the fight against Odium, to the world, for Dalinar to give in and side with the enemy.

She prepared to swing, but then Renarin turned and looked at her. Tears streaming down his face, he met her eyes, and he nodded.

Renarin bears fear and pain better than anyone. He doesn’t distance himself from it, as Shallan does. He doesn’t bemoan it, as Kaladin does. And he doesn’t demand anything different. He’s present in it, allows it.

Would it have been nobler for him to fight against Jasnah? There’s something to be said for that reaction. Yet he believed his own death was inevitable.

It’s his reaction to it, his calmness in the face of what he thought was certain death, that makes me love him even more. I don’t see it as self-effacement as much as perspective. What would it matter if he himself died, in the face of someone as powerful and strong as Dalinar joining the enemy? Which is worse?

Renarin sees.

And then so does Jasnah. She remembers Renarin crying on her shoulder as a boy. She knows he has been perpetually misjudged, mocked, just as she has been. She feels an affinity for him.

I want to pause here and mention that this kind of bond is only possible because Renarin isn’t covering up who he is. He isn’t pretending. He’s being himself, all exposed and unpretentious. What do you do when you see someone else in their stark vulnerability?

You reach out to them.

And Jasnah does. She pulls him into a hug. He doesn’t resist; he breaks down and cries, still the little boy he used to be, the one he’s always been. The one who had to shoulder too much, who didn’t get enough guidance, who never fit in, who learned to put his needs aside and try hard to be useful.

“What’s wrong with me?” Renarin asked. “Why do I see these things? I thought I was doing something right, with Glys, but somehow it’s all wrong.…”

Renarin does something else here I don’t remember him doing before. He opens up and talks about what’s wrong. For the first time, someone else knows, and it’s someone who understands him. For the first time, Renarin is seen in all the wrongness he had been hiding, and he’s loved instead of condemned for it.

“Hush,” Jasnah whispered. “We’ll find a way through it, Renarin. Whatever it is, we’ll fix it. We’ll survive this, somehow.”

Jasnah, the queen of logical thought, has no idea what to do to fix it. But she knows that following her heart instead of her head is right.

And how does Renarin react to her not killing him? With tremendous relief, and not because his life was spared--

Renarin pulled back from her, his tearstained eyes going wide. “I saw you kill me.”

“It’s all right, Renarin. I’m not going to.”

“But don’t you see? Don’t you understand what that means?”

Jasnah shook her head.

“Jasnah,” Renarin said. “My vision was wrong about you. What I see … it can be wrong.”

--But because that means that Dalinar might not turn. Moments before he had been ready to die, but he was NOT ready to give up on his father.

That hope drives him. He runs with Jasnah to join the battle, still not entirely confident in his strength. He heals Adolin, and gets orders from Dalinar to work the Oathgate and fight the Thunderclast.

And then…

Regardless of not knowing HOW he fits in, Renarin moves forward. He’s not lurking uncertainly in the background anymore.

“Adolin, don’t be foolhardy!” Renarin grabbed his arm. A burst of healing moved through Adolin like cold water in his veins, causing his pains to retreat.

“But—”

“Get away,” Renarin said. “You’re unarmored. You’ll get yourself killed fighting this thing!”

“But—”

“I can handle it, Adolin. Just go! Please.”

Adolin stumbled back. He’d never heard such forceful talk from Renarin—that was almost more amazing than the monster. Renarin, shockingly, charged at the thing.

Renarin takes the upper hand in the fighting. He takes over, without a shred of his usual self-doubt. Adolin knows exactly how incredible this is.

Alright. Time to talk about what Renarin IS.

Truthwatchers are supposed to have the Surges of Progression and Illumination -- Renarin has healed so many times and so easily that he clearly has this Surge. But Illumination?

“The Surges of Progression and Illumination. I’m not sure how to make the second one work though. Shallan has explained it seven times, but I can’t create even the smallest illusion. Something’s wrong.”

Whatever happened with Glys, it made Renarin unable to access the second Surge. I’m guessing that in its place he has the Voidbinding Surge, and hasn’t figured out what it is or how to use it. I doubt that explains the light he used to get rid of the Thunderclast (I have no idea what that was, but it doesn’t make sense for it to be Voidbinding). Maybe the visions Renarin experiences are related to that other Surge.

Then again, some Truthwatchers had visions of the future:

Don’t tell anyone. I can’t say it. I must whisper. I foresaw this.

—From drawer 30-20, a particularly small emerald

Maybe a result of Glys’s corruption is that Renarin’s visions come from Odium instead of Cultivation, to skew events in favor of Odium.

I worry about my fellow Truthwatchers.

—From drawer 8-21, second emerald

I can’t explain how Renarin does what he does with the fistful of Stormlight. All I know is that if Odium hoped to have an ally in Renarin, he’s sorely mistaken.

Everything is pushing Renarin to become something he was never sure he could be. He’s not a typical Alethi warrior. He’s not a background support person, good only for staying away from the fight and healing others.

Renarin, still himself, still slightly uncertain of himself, is finding his place.

“The portal has to be opened,” Renarin said.

“Your Highness…” Teshav said. “You can’t fight them all.”

“There’s nobody else.” He turned to go.

And he is amazing.

Renarin settled down nearby on some steps, trembling from it all, but grinning anyway.

Renarin is GOOD. He is thoroughly good. He isn’t definable, not easily understood, and unique in all the world, for all he wants to fit in with everyone. He is like one born unto himself. I don’t think he ever will truly fit in, but it’s fine, because he is amazing and has a beautiful soul.

I had been so worried that Renarin was not who I thought he was, but he’s still him, still the Renarin I knew and love.

Dalinar wept and clung to that youth, that child, as if he were the only real thing left in a world of shadows.

You’re not wrong, Dalinar.

(Tagging @rhetoricandlogic​ & @tiabwwtws who wanted to know when this post would (finally) be finished)

[pisoprano]

Renarin Musing to Himself, a Bonus Picture, and Some More Renarin Musing to Himself

For @botanicaxu​ for the @renarinkholinexchange​.

I made a thing.  And then I wrote a thing.  And then I wrote another thing.  They don’t quite connect properly, but I’m going to post them all anyway.  Enjoy!

From the mind of Renarin Kholin (sometime before seeing the vision of Jasnah):

I don’t know how not to be broken.

First it was being the other son, the one Father didn’t really understand.  Don’t get me wrong—I love my father, I love my brother and I know both would give the world for me.  But Adolin was the one who took being the Blackthorn’s son as something to aspire to and then excelled past everyone’s expectations so far he became an amazing fighter in his own right.  I couldn’t help but want to be just like him—just like both of them—but how could I even come close to making a name for myself when I had two legendary Kholins to prove myself against?  Still, I would have given it my all were it not for the fact that I was forbidden by my own body from even attempting to claim my own place in the world.  I was invalid, useless, one who was born unto nothing—not even unto myself, as my mother wished, since I couldn’t even achieve my own goals, let alone anyone else’s.  At most, my autonomy extended to rejecting the consolation prize of joining the ardentia to instead hope for something I would actually choose to come along.

Then things began changing.  Inheriting Father’s Shardplate.  Training with Zahel.  Joining Bridge Four.  Bonding Glys.  Somewhere along the line even my fits stopped and my eyes healed.

And I saw the Everstorm coming.

I suppose you could say that it was the first time Father and I were the same—we both seemed to have gone insane.  When it turned out we were both Radiants instead, it was such a relief that I honestly started being hopeful about the future for a bit there.  For once in my life, I was the son who Father related to.  We had unbelievable ancient abilities, visions from a higher power, and a solemn duty to save Roshar itself.  The thing was, while Father became a Bondsmith—a member of the Order that is arguably the strongest of them all, just judging him by his spren alone—I became a Truthwatcher corrupted by the very enemy we fight.  I can’t believe I’d actually been hopeful for once—I had looked at my random string of minor successes and saw it as a sign that I could be worthy of being called Radiant, despite the fact that every worthwhile accomplishment of my life was made by pure accident on my part.  I know Radiants are supposed to be made from broken people, but that’s to give them room grow into their magnificence; for me, I could only heal my feeble body and let my spirit shatter into something so much worse.

But do I explain just how bad my situation actually is to anyone?  Of course I don’t.  Normal people understand how to open up and ask for help.  I never learned how to do that, not really.  Help was always something thrust upon me and the thought of proving the assumption that I needed that help as being correct has grown so abhorrent that I only even consider asking when I have no other choice.  I’d much rather suffer in silence—it’s not like I can’t handle a little pain—rather than risk being an even bigger drain on everyone else than I’ve always been.  That way I can at least pretend I’m not a waste of space.

I guess that’s why I’ve always tried to help with whatever I can.  I’ve probably operated the Oathgates more than anyone else at Urithiru since it needed to be done and I was one of the very few people capable of it.  I was and am proud to do it.  But even with this acceptance of responsibility, there’s that hole inside—and not just because of the corruption.  No, it’s that in pretty much every respect, I am replaceable.  There are plenty of others bonded to living spren who can work the Oathgates if I’m gone.  Both of my surges are covered by other Radiants and to better effect—Shallan with her Lightweaving (a power which I still don’t understand) and Lift with her Growth and Regrowth (which she somehow can fuel with food instead of Stormlight, despite that being impossible by Radiant standards).  The closest I can claim to being unique is that I can see the future, and that is a gift that makes having epilepsy look desirable.  It’s not like I can even change what I see anyway, so what good would it do to just make everyone worry beforehand?

Keeping quiet is the only real skill I have anyway so I might as well continue doing that.

A Vision and a Reality

From the Mind of Renarin Kholin (sometime after the Thunderclast battle):

So… I’m not dead.  I didn’t expect that.  I also didn’t expect Father to be capable of defying Odium, but he did and I’m more than a little relieved.  And now I guess I’m in that weird place where I wonder: did that really just happen?

I went up against a Thunderclast—a Thunderclast—and won.  I’d assumed that Truthwatchers were meant to stay on the sidelines, acting as healer to all the injured non-Radiants who couldn’t heal on their own.  Instead, I was in the middle of the action, healing myself again and again so I could keep on fighting.  It scarcely mattered that I am sorely undertrained, I made up for it with tenacity.  I guess if there’s one thing I know how to do well, it’s taking physical distress in stride.

And I guess I’m—dare I consider it—a little hopeful again?  I know I can’t rely on Father creating a pocket of pure energy to draw upon every time I have something evil to take down and I certainly need to put in some long, hard hours with Zahel.  But I think being squashed repeatedly only to get back up again cemented it for me that I’m not a defenseless weakling anymore.  Yes, I feel like I overdid it and need some serious me-time to get grounded again, but now I know that I can do it—and with that knowledge, I will be able to fight yet again.  With the Last Desolation upon us, I’m probably going to need every scrap of self-confidence I can muster.

It’s just… the thought of throwing myself completely into optimistic belief in myself is more than a little terrifying.  I already have an impulsive streak—me jumping into a duel despite knowing full well my Shardblade would scream at me the whole time is sufficient proof of that.  I can’t just expect external circumstances to swing things in my favor.  Being a Kholin or a Radiant doesn’t make me immune from getting unlucky—ask Elhokar, ask all the Knights Radiant who lost their lives before the Recreance, ask the storming Heralds themselves.  And even if I just disregard all that, my Nahel bond is still unreliable.  Yes, I don’t fear what I see as inevitable futures, but that doesn’t mean that my visions don’t have a very good success rate that ought to be respected.  There are so many reasons to be cautious right now, when one wrong step can mean the literal end of the world.

But my soul now longs so much for unbridled freedom that I’m not sure I can tell it “no” again.

I might… oh, Almighty…  I might need to ask others for help with this.  I simply don’t have the experience to know what’s wise and I can’t risk Roshar taking the time to get that experience.  But maybe… I think I could talk to Jasnah?  Yes, she’s busy with running Alethkar, but I do have incontrovertible evidence that she wants to help me more than she wants to stop Odium, don’t I?  I won’t bother her too much, of course, but she is an Elsecaller, right?  The Wise and Careful?  If Jasnah Kholin doesn’t know what to do, I’m not sure who would.

[preservationandruin]

Oathbringer Spoilers, Part Five: Chapters 121-End

Alright, one last push to finishing the book! 

Moash is given a few tasks. Dalinar asks Navani to teach him something. Adolin has doubts for a moment and then gets lectured out of them by Shallan, and also he tells his dad something important. Kaladin runs into some old friends. Taravangian makes a bad deal. Always trust Adolin’s gut instincts about people. Alethkar gets a new monarch. And Wit makes a friend. 

For some godforsaken reason, we’ve switched to MOASH. He’s not feeling particularly great about killing Elhokar--gee, wonder why--and we get that there are only nine, not ten, orders of Fused. 

Practically speaking, I doubt they can accurately emulate the Bondsmiths. Thematically speaking, there’s that number again. 

Lady Leshwi keeps visiting Moash. She says that he has taken Moash’s pain, and will return it when he needs it. Moash just wants to forget the look of betrayal in Kaladin’s eyes. 

Good luck with that. It’s like Kaladin told Amaram. You join Odium looking for peace, but you never find it there. 

Odium has a command for him. Fuck. Hnanan--one of the higher-ups--pulls out a strange knife--bright gold metal, a sapphire in the sheath. And asks him to kill a god. 

With that ominous note, we switch to Navani. She runs out to Dalinar, basically tackling him into a hug. She sends Lopen and Kaladin off. Dalinar says he thinks he knows why the memories came back--Odium would have made him remember one way or another, but this let him prepare. He asks her to study the King’s Drop. And then he asks her something else. 

Dalinar met her eyes. “I want you to teach me how to read.” 

THIS LINE. I GOT THROUGH ALL THE REST. BUT THIS LINE MADE ME CRY. 

Shallan/Radiant/Veil is resting, or trying to. She keeps slipping between Radiant and Veil, which must make her very strange to interact with for everyone else. Jasnah and Navani both don’t make a huge difference to her state. 

Someone get Adolin, he’s good at dealing with this. Oh, good, he came. 

Adolin is the one who can tell when it’s the real one. He’s the only one who manages to pick it out. 

Adolin points out that he could carry her, but then, she’s a Radiant, and he’s tired, so maybe she could carry him. Meanwhile, Kaladin has shown up. 

Veil instantly takes over--and also, fucking hell, Kaladin has lost his boots again. 

Both Radiant and Veil like Kaladin. 

Shallan shoves both of them to the utter back of her mind, because Adolin knows her. 

Venli can now switch between old and new rhythms at will, and if she doesn’t have Stormlight, she can make her eyes red. For the moment, then, she can hide her nature. 

A Parshendi Knight Radiant. Timbre bound her because so many of their number died, and she didn’t trust the humans. 

And she walks over to the singers, and starts telling them about the listeners. 

Nale notes that “only Ishar” escaped Braize with his mind intact--but clearly,  he didn’t. Szeth swears, and the highspren--which he still doesnt’ see often--approves. 

Shallan is looking for Adolin. She also notes that Kaladin has made a habit of just perching dramatically in high places. What a dweeb. 

I mean, if I could, I’d do that. 

Oh, god, Adolin has decided to “step back” in favor of Kaladin. He says that he’s going to “let [kaladin] have you” which...that phrasing is going to go great. Also, Adolin. Adolin. 

I think Shallan can make her own call, here. Adolin points out that Kaladin can fly. 

“Oh? And is that what women are supposed to seek in a mate? Is it in the Polite Lady’s Handbook to Courtship and Family? The Bekenah edition, maybe? ‘Ladies, you can’t possibly marry a man if he can’t fly.’ Never mind if the other option is as handsome as sin, kind to everyone he meets regardless of their station, passionate about his art, and genuinely humble in the weirdest, most confident way. Never mind if he actually seems to get you, and remarkably listens to your problems, encouraging you to be you--not to hide yourself away. Never mind if being near him makes you want to rip his shirt off and push him into the nearest alleyway, then kiss him until he can’t breathe anymore. If he can’t fly, then well, you just have to call it off!”  She paused for breath, gasping.  “And...” Adolin said. “That guy is...me?”  “You are such a fool,” She grabbed his ripped coat and pulled him into a kiss, passionspren crystallizing in the air around them. 

I LOVE ADOLIN AND SHALLAN

She also notes that she thinks she’s kept it to three personas--and while Shallan’s the hardest, she can probably keep it up with some help. Adolin grins, pointing out that she said she’d kiss him until he couldn’t breathe, but he’s not even winded. 

Adolin, I wouldn’t make that bet. She doesn’t have to breathe if she has Stormlight. 

Kaladin is also happy for them. He notes that he doesn’t think he’s in love with Shallan--but being around her did make him happy. She reminds him of Tien. He’s picked up a rock, like the kind that Tien always used to give him. 

OK, SIBLING RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN KALADIN AND SHALLAN IS SO, SO GOOD. 

Rock is still recovering--he sees what he did, shooting Amaram, as a broken oath. 

Taravangian admits--he pushed Dalinar aside and wanted to seize control of the coalition. Dalinar realizes--Taravangian didn’t become king of Jah Keved by accident. And Taravangian...tells Dalinar what he’s doing. 

Moash is going down into the gardens in Khoilnar. His target is a madman, with an eye color nobody can see. 

Jezrien. The Herald Szeth saw in the first prologue. The one Dalinar got drunk with. Why does Odium want to kill a Herald? 

What is this death, Jezrien asks as he dies. The Fused didn’t want to murder him themselves. Why not? Why use Moash? 

SO UH THAT HAPPENED. MOASH FUCKING OFFED A HERALD. 

Anyway, Lopen has his spren! His name is Rua, and he looks like a little boy, but Lopen calls him Naco. LOPEN IS TEACHING RUA HOW TO FLIP PEOPLE OFF LOPEN IS THE WORST INFLUENCE ON SPREN AND I LOVE HIM

OH NO, DRU REALIZED THAT, SINCE KALADIN RETURNED ALONE...OH NO DREHY WAS ON THAT TRIP FUCK

BRANDON YOU BRING DREHY BACK THIS INSTANT AND STOP HIS BOYFRIEND FROM BEING SAD

Anyway, Lopen is managing to cheer up soldiers, mentioning that if one who has lost his arm needs some jokes, he has some. Rua keeps hiding from Lopen, so Lopen has to find him. 

LOPEN ACCIDENTALLY SWORE THE SECOND IDEAL FUCK AND HE PUT OUT ALL THE LIGHTS IN THE SURGEON’S TENT

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

HE WAS SAVING IT FOR A DRAMATIC MOMENT AND THEN STORMFATHER ACCEPTED IT AND LOPEN FLIPPED HIM OFF TWICE. AND RUA DID IT WITH HIM. 

I LOVE BRIDGE FOUR SO MUCH. 

Kaladin immediately runs off, though, and Rua flips him off too. Lopen tells him not to wear it out. 

Ash is trying to take Taln to go see Ishar. And then she feels something rip inside her. Taln collapses. That’s...that’s Jezrien’s death, isn’t it. 

Oh, god, Jezrien is Ash’s father. She just felt her father die. 

She falls unconscious as the sensation stops, and I can’t blame her. 

Kaladin’s flying across the ocean, for some reason. And he finds a group of refugees from Kholinar. 

A group flying the bridge four flag. 

DREHY AND SKAR! They’re okay!!! They’re alive!!

AND THEY SMUGGLED OUT GAVINOR THEY PROTECT THOSE WHO CANNOT PROTECT THEMSELVES

Okay we don’t get that scene but DREHY BETTER HAVE HAD A GREAT REUNION WITH DRU OKAY DREHY WAS GONE FOR  A MONTH WITH NO NOTICE AND DRU THOUGHT HE WAS DEAD

Taravangian is stupid today. He reads letters from his grandchildren. He’s crying. None of his granddaughters know anything of the Diagram, and he’s determined that it will stay that way. 

He opens the window during the everstorm, and Odium speaks to him. He says he chose this time on purpose--because he doesn’t want Taravangian to ever, ever think he has power. 

Odium says that, if Taravangian serves him--he’ll spare Kharbranth, and anyone born in it, and their spouses. And he’ll be a spy, for Odium. Fuck. 

Adolin and Shallan are being adorable always. Have I mentioned how much I like the fact that Adolin loves hugs? I love it. Anyway, some of the older people are rolling their eyes at Adolin and Shallan for being stupidly sappy, which is hilarious. 

Awwwh, they’ve set the wedding date! For a week from then--they’re going fast, but hey. They road tripped shadesmar and faced down multiple unmade. She’s realizing, though, that she needs to explain some things--in particular,  the Ghostbloods thing--to Adolin. 

Apparently Veil and Adolin are, now drinking buddies. I love this so much. Watch out, Adolin, she can absolutely out-drink you. Anyway, Shallan has trouble actually paying attention to the meetings because Adolin. I love how, no matter how cutesy they’re being, nobody can really tell them to stop because one of them is a Radiant and the other is Adolin Kholin. 

“You think,” Adolin said. “Taravangian might have done it?”  “No,” Dalinar said.

I AM GETTING DECIDED FLASHBACKS TO BOOK ONE WHERE ADOLIN WAS LIKE “HEY WAS IT SADEAS” AND DALINAR WAS LIKE “NO OF COURSE NOT” 

ALWAYS. LISTEN. TO. ADOLIN’S. IMPRESSIONS. OF. PEOPLE. 

At least he notes that he doesn’t want to trust Taravangian very much. At least he’s learned a little. 

Dalinar says that Alethkar needs a king--and Adolin might be it. Adolin admits that he killed Sadeas. Adolin says he can’t be king of Alethkar. Dalinar points out that he can’t, either. 

...i think i see where this is going. 

Gavinor is too young. Adolin can’t. Renarin would be worse than Adolin. Dalinar can’t. 

Shallan blinks, thinking. They need someone diplomatic, but also not someone who can be walked over. 

It’s gonna be Jasnah, isn’t it. 

Palona is collecting gossip while Sebarial pretends to sleep. I still love them. 

OH MY GOD I WAS RIGHT: 

The doors to the room slammed open, the noise of it sending a shock through the room, complaints falling silent. Even Turi stood up to note Jasnah Kholin standing in the doorway.  She wore a small but unmistakeable crown on her head. The Kholin family, it seemed, had chosen their new monarch. 

Anyway, Moash is at work again, and I don’t give a shit about him anymore. Kill Jezrien and Elhokar? Yeah, I don’t give a shit about Moash. But Lady Leshwi offers him an honorblade, and a place with them. Not as Moash, as someone else. 

Moash takes the Honorblade, and is given a new name. Vyre. 

He Who Quiets. 

Fuck. 

And then, because this loves jerking us back and forward, we cut to Shallan’s wedding day. BRIDGE FOUR GAVE HER BOOTS AS A WEDDING GIFT. Shallan notes that Adolin is probably just getting....lots of swords. None of which will be as good as Maya. 

She pulls up Radiant and Veil to give their opinions--Radiant says it’s worthy, Veil says at least he has good taste in wine. 

She realizes--it’s alright to enjoy this. It’s alright to be happy. 

And then her door opens--and there are three young men. Balat. Wikim. Jushu. 

Her brothers. 

Mraize sent a note. He’s asking her to capture Sja-anat, or convince her to work with the Ghostbloods. Shallan notes that it is one of Sja-anat’s spren that Renarin bonded. 

We don’t get the wedding itself, but we do get Dalinar heading back happy and full from the feast. Szeth just kinda...chills outside the door. And Dalinar starts writing, carefully. When Navani comes back, he offers it to her to read, as nervous as though it were his first day with the swordmasters. 

“You said pronouns have a gender in the women’s formal script, and I realized that the one you taught me says ‘I, being female.’”  Navani hesitated, pen in her fingers. “Oh. Right. I guess...I mean...huh. I don’t think there is a masculine ‘I.’ You can use the neuter, like an ardent. Or...no, here. I’m an idiot.” she wrote a few letters. “This is what you use when writing a quote by a man in the first person.” 

I’m just pulling this out because, as a nonbinary person dealing with a language that isn’t really designed to accomodate that, i appreciate that Brandon realized this would be a problem. And English isn’t even as bad as Italian. I don’t even know how to refer to myself with some of the past-tense verbs, there. 

And we get that Oathbringer, the book, was written by Dalinar. And he’s so happy, so proud of being able to read. He can read the Way of Kings, himself. He can read Jasnah’s biography of Gavilar. He can write notes, and he can write his own life. 

Oathbringer, My Glory and My Shame

written by Dalinar Kholin. 

I like it. A good title. 

Wit is, as he tends to be, talking to himself, in a line of shuffling people. All great art, he says, is hated. He’s in the group of people being shuffled out of Kholinar, to work the farms. 

WIT STARTS DUSTING OFF HIS CLOTHING AND STOPS BECAUSE “HE’D WORKED HARD TO PLACE THAT DUST” 

I love him. He notes that if Rayse figures out he’s here, the entire city will be levelled, so he’s got to move it. He makes a small doll for a girl, and he...oh, he Breathes into the doll, giving it to the girl to protect her. He gives the girl the doll, and then gets a family whose child died to take care of her. 

Wit knows some of the old Parshmen. Vatwha is the current sentinel; they once danced together. He wonders if anyone wonders why the Fused are spending so much time clearing this section of the palace. He’s talking to the wall, as though it’s a person. 

He promises it truths. 

A small, scared Cryptic. 

Wit starts saying the First Ideal. 

Oh, no, I know where it came from. That was the section Moash was clearing--the section near where Elhokar died. That Cryptic...it wanted to bond Elhokar. But Elhokar died, in the middle of saying the Ideal, so...Wit had to be there for it. 

And with that, we end. 

[nightblink]

Blink Reads Oathbringer - Chapters Two, Three, and Four

Chapter Two – One Problem Solved

Hello Adolin, my sun son, I have also missed you so.

Good man, taking charge and organizing your people just like you've been raised to. Find that purpose in usefulness. Find that distraction. You're going to need it.

Heralds, I'm a terrible person, but I want you to b r e a k.

That's not almost a relief, that is a relief that they found the body, because you are too honest for your own good and The Worst Liar and it's going to tear you apart inside trying to keep this a secret. It's almost a tiny weight off of your shoulders, being discovered and that small step closer to your own Damnation, isn't it?

Oh shit, Dalinar calling out Teft by name-

“Looking for him? You lost your highprince.” Why do I find this so fucking funny. It's such a little thing and yet I'm cackling.

'connoisseur of death' – Dalinar why you gotta be so Extra(tm)

(we all know why, it's a Kholin Genetic Affliction)

I was listening to The Way of Kings not long ago and it sticks out as Dalinar catalogues Sadeas' face and wound that Adolin likes to and is skilled at using his fists while on the battlefield. Also managed the overpowering and stabbing while beat to shit and with at least a broken wrist. If he'd actually managed to get Sadeas in the ring, I'd give the man under a minute, if Adolin didn't drag the 'fight' out for the vicious pleasure of it.

SEBARIAL AND PALONA, AYYYY

'He didn't trust most of the highprinces farther than the wind could blow them.” Dalinar. Dalinar you do know that you live in the stormlands, where I know that a Highstorm's stormwall has been known to lift boulders and carry large trees at least 640 kilometers. The wind can blow anyone pretty damn far.

…..actually, that explains everything, considering how easily you trust.

(Wisdom was your dump stat, wasn't it. Ten sapphires says you have a negative modifier for Insight.)

Palona says what we're all thinking. Give that woman a medal and a nice spa day.

L o r d I forgot how much I liked Sebarial and his combination of common sense (for a Highprince) and snark.

[whistles] I knew Urithiru was massive, but that description puts my visualization on a wholly different scale. Ten tiers, each of eighteen levels? Is 18 going to be another number to watch out for?

RICE PADDY ROCKBUD FIELDS

BrandoSando what powers do the squires osmose from their Radiant. I want a list broken down in detail, stat.

Bridge Four, never change.

Dalinar. Dalinar, he would have undermined you at every turn. Forget uniting Roshar, you wouldn't have been able to unite Alethkar with Sadeas sowing dissent and tearing down everything you try to build! Think what you may, but Adolin did what must be done.

Good man, Aladar. Good to know that you can change when faced with new information. Sebarial being Highprince of Commerce was practically guaranteed from the point we heard of him building a proper economy on the Shattered Plains. Adolin as Dalinar's right hand and general was a given.

But what is Renarin to do, other than attempt to figure out his powers? It's a high-priority task, to be sure, but Dalinar, couldn't you entrust a little less personal of a responsibility to him as well? Make him feel like part of the greater whole rather than set aside as he's always been…?

[sighs] I suppose we'll see how this plays out.

Chapter 3 – Momentum

Ohhhhh, and here we get one of the three chapters released way long ago that I did read.

'Rockbuds crunched like skulls beneath Dalinar's boots' What a line what an iconic line-

Almighty Dalinar you were more arrogant than Adolin easy; you can damn well see where he gets it from

This entire visual is glorious and I'm reveling in the descriptive flavour. Who needs a movie when this plays out in the imagination so well?

He can make a line of spearmen waver with just a war cry, Heralds

I said it the first time I read this chapter and it keeps running through my head – the Blackthorn is fucking terrifying

Even now, he's having trouble feeling the Thrill, or at least getting it to catch and hold. I can't imagine he was anything close to proto-Radiant at this point, but perhaps Alethi predisposed towards Radiant-ness have an innate resistance?

(We never read of Kaladin feeling the Thrill.)

OOOP, THERE IT IS.

I would like to rage.

Bloody as it may be, the thought of young!Dalinar spinning with his poleaxe like a dancer is viscerally satisfying on some deep level.

“I just go where he points me.” Dalinar confirmed for guided tactical missile.

And there's the arrow, and Dalinar is impressed. Nearly gets shot again with just how impressed he is. (Now's not the time for competency-kink to kick in, buddy.)

Dalinar. Dalinar, anyone else would call this a bad idea.

“He's got a hole through his chest. Tough break.” Dalinar please.

….Sadeas had golden Shardplate. Sadeas had golden Shardplate. I suppose this must be before he picked his colours as Highprince, and I am entirely unsurprised that he'd go that showboat-y. Was he forced to give up the gold at some point? Is that why his Plate during the current timeline was painted red as opposed to Elhokar's golden set?

“Oh Dalinar. What would we do without you?” Sadeas, I'm afraid your flirting isn't going to work on this one.

Chapter Analysis: young!Dalinar classed straight Barbarian. WIS for dump stat.

Chapter Four – Oaths

[squints at the pre-chapter quote] Theory that the book Oathbringer in-universe is Dalinar's biography is rapidly declining. Still possible, though.

THE EVERSTORM RETURNS.

!!!! He's feeling the Stormfather's emotions? The soulbond can transfer emotions between spren and Radiant and vice versa? Be still my heart.

Stormfather is bascially a cat, ignoring Dalinar just because he doesn't want to come when called, confirmed.

SNUGGLES

Not only snuggles but bared safehand aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh- I love how that's more a sign of trust and intimate familiarity than anything inherently sexual.

The Everstorm is at least slower than a highstorm, but that's not a whole lot of reassurance. “It wouldn't tear down cities, but it did rain destruction upon them – and the winds would attack in bursts, hostile, even deliberate.” Yeaaaah, definitely not. How powerful can those “deliberate” gusts be, I wonder?

Gavilar was your control back then, wasn't he? External control, rather then the internal discipline you keep now.

You want to- you want to get married before you let yourself 'get seduced'. I mean, that's entirely fitting with the Vorin religion and the Alethi in particular being so focused on oaths, but damn, man. I thought you two were already quietly together.

INFORMATION ABOUT SHSHSHSH GIVE IT TO ME GIVE IT TO M-

….shit. You're telling Navani about the lack of memory. Hoooooly shit.

Hostage? Hostage?!

I am abruptly SO MUCH more concerned for Adolin and Renarin, Adolin was only thirteen and Renarin even younger I thought she'd fallen ill or something but a hostage situation can you imagine how that impacted the boys, how that must have scarred them to the core – during their formative years! I- fuck. This is going to get some serious attention on the RP blog after I've finished Oathbringer.

The thought of Elhokar faced with Dalinar and Navani's wedding vows is partly so hilarious that I almost want it to happen, but on the other hand I feel he'd spontaneously combust with sheer embarrassment and I probably would too.

Dalinar you lunatic.

….still stuck on hostage situati-

'silk-covered virgin' – does that mean that the Alethi traditionally get married in silk clothing? I'm imagining the men in a vest-and-takama set, the women in something light and flowing. There's no way that Dalinar isn't in his uniform right now though.

True spren versus subspren? What would constitute a subspren? Is that akin to the difference between honorspren and windspren, or is there a further level of spren that we haven't seen yet?

What do your sons think of this, Dalinar? They who remember their mother? I don't think they're opposed to you remarrying – on the contrary, they'd want you to be happy, but… what do they think?

BRIDAL CROWN. I NEED TO ART THIS ASAP.

Red is lucky, making a note of that.

“A lady must be prepared.” Oh hush, you planned for this to happen.

This. Is not going to make Elhokar feel any less like he's being ousted as king. This will undermine his confidence in his position even further, which is not good when King Social Anxiety is already pretty much at rock bottom and recuperating from an assassination attempt.

The face of the storm itself opening up overhead, the world hanging on a suspended breath… I'm getting shivers, no wonder the crowd exploded with awespren!

OH GOOD YOUR BOYS ARE THRILLED. Grinning! And joy! And, despite the Alethi not being big on contact, hugs. Adolin you touch-starved nerd

Oooof. That is pretty heretical, Dalinar, you have to admit that. Even atheists like Jasnah are probably less 'heretical' in the eyes of Vorinism than someone 'faithful' proclaiming that God Is Dead. In this time when your goal is unity, this isn't going to help you in the slightest.

[looks at map of Alethkar at the end of the chapter] [looks up]

Why. The everloving fuck. Is there no scale for distance. THIS IS A BASIC PART OF MAPMAKING. I WILL COME OVER THERE AND BEAT IT INTO YOUR HEADS-

...still stuck on hostage situation and I’m apparently not getting over it anytime soon

[ourmrsreynolds]

stuff i read November 2019

Brandon Sanderson, Words of Radiance (2014) (Stormlight Archive #2) “I don’t want my life to change because I’ve become a lighteyes … I want the lives of people like me—like I am now—to change.” Kaladin Stormblessed, ACTUAL LOVE OF MY LIFE. Contrast: Dalinar whose “well you just have to be twice as good by distinguishing yourself in the position I gave you, that’s how you change the world” rhetoric makes my skin crawl. Nah it ain’t fam. Dalinar may be be a good person who has never personally mistreated a darkeyes, but that’s beside the point. He still benefits from a highly unequal, unjust arrangement that places him at the tippy top of the social, economic & political pyramid. And the parshmen at the bottom. If the next book isn’t 100% about Parshmen Rights I'm outta here. this book—well there were moments i was on my feet cheering, like that four-on-one-duel where Kaladin is the only one with the cojones to jump into the ring, and Adolin’s “bridgeboy” goes from a term of disparagement to a term of endearment. When we found out the Shardbearer whom Kaladin killed in Amaram’s service was Shallan’s brother that was WELL-PLAYED SIR that punch really landed. Renarin turning out to be a Radiant is a pretty harsh indictment of the overvaluation of martial prowess, and I liked that too, but on the whole I didn’t like this book as much as Book 1 because I wanted MOAR KALADIN.

Arkady Martine, A Memory Called Empire (2019) “Nothing empire touches remains itself.” They say that science fiction is psychology and fantasy is sociology. If that’s true (and I don’t remember where I heard it) this book bucks that trend because it’s all in for both sci-fi (it’s a space opera!) and sociology. It’s been getting a lot of well-deserved buzz and I really enjoyed it. I do think it’s fair to point out it’s a story centered on whip-smart highly-educated bureaucrats and the imperial court they orbit; that the perspective of “ordinary” people is missing, and you feel the lack because in the course of the book there’s a revolution/coup?? But I mean, if you think about the Roman Empire (the author is a Byzantine scholar) the kinds of “barbarians” it attracted were always from the better-off stratum of “barbarian” society. I guess the chimney sweeps wouldn’t have been reading Catullus. Nothing empire touches remains itself.

Robert Galbraith, Lethal White (2018) (Cormoran Strike Mysteries #4) The unresolved tension between the leads is A+ 10/10 but I feel like the actual mystery plot is not resolved as elegantly as I expected from JK Rowling? She’s like, the queen of tight plotting and I didn’t think she’d just round up 7 suspects only to let 6 of them off the hook with an apologetic shrug of “whoops that was a red herring.” There’s a metric shitton of gratuitous bashing of socialists & other lefties, which didn’t even faze me. What bothered me was the novel’s unevenness. The portion of it that was dedicated to character work was phenomenal. Rowling’s always had a gift for invoking petty and/or aggrieved secondary characters and she absolutely nailed it here, plus the main characters experience extraordinary personal growth while still bearing the scars of their traumas. Yet tbh Chamber of Secrets is a better mystery novel and I say this as someone who ranks Chamber of Secrets dead last on my personal “HP books, ranked” listicle.

Silvia Federici, Caliban and the Witch: Women, the body, and primitive accumulation (2004) Pluses of academic writing: you get to raid the ENDNOTES and BIBLIOGRAPHY for more texts devoted to your topic of interest. Minuses of academic writing: dense as hell, puts you to sleep. Praise be to Silvia Federici whose arguments are uncommonly lucid and contain almost no bloat, though the sections covering the New World are definitely weaker than the European sections, which is where Federici’s speciality lies. She argues that the witch hunts of the late Middle Ages were a political project, a campaign of terror designed to decimate the power of peasant women, sever them from their communities, and subjugate their reproductive capacities to doing USEFUL stuff like accumulating surplus for capitalists. The parallel between the enclosure of public commons and the enclosure of women’s bodies & labor power—all done with an eye towards private profit—is one that will haunt me for the rest of my life. What an absolutely staggering work of scholarship. So glad I sprung for the physical copy so I could annotate copiously.

Louisa May Alcott, Little Women (1848) It’s been 20 years and I’m still salty about Jo/Laurie. This is the first time I’ve actually reread it cover-to-cover instead of just reimbibing the shippiest bits and I gotta say, props to Louisa May Alcott who is a much better writer than I recalled. Her treatment of the process and the craft of writing is also right on; the 1994 movie by contrast just has Jo climb up into the garret and don her writing hat and hey presto, a manuscript. What I’d forgotten was Alcott’s mastery of tone to skewer a character—I don’t wanna say she rivals Jane Austen in this department but she comes close. I had also forgotten how much of Part I in particular is just Jo repressing her desire to marry Beth and cart her off to a lesbian utopia bursting with grand pianos. My girl is dead set against any of her sisters marrying, insists she’ll man up herself in order to keep the family intact, and if you only read Part I you may well conclude she’s not wrong. Part II is painful because it’s where Alcott sinks my ship. Hate to say I can see why she does it?? It’s because Amy and Laurie have the most to learn from each other, and Alcott is all about GROWING and LEARNING as a person. You know what, the text doesn’t belong to Alcott. The text belongs to all of us, and I will proclaim Death of the Author from the rooftops. Jo and Laurie love each other without labels, they’re not “romantic” or “platonic,” they set no limits on that love.

Cat Sebastian, The Lawrence Browne Affair (2017) (Turner Series #2) You know why this mlm Regency was absolutely DELIGHTFUL? Because it’s literally kidfic. They bond over the kid, that’s the story. It’s not the whole story, I just mean the arrival of the kid kicks the plot into high gear, even if there isn’t undue focus on the kid as a character in his own right. God this book is so relatable: They both have the worst case of imposter syndrome. “Neither of us is normal but have we ever thought to question whether fitting in is good, or normality is desirable?” It’s that trope where “I’ve insinuated myself into your life under false pretenses and now I’ve gone and fallen in love with you, how do I make a clean breast of it,” meanwhile your romantic interest knows FULL WELL you’re a con artist and it doesn’t lessen their attachment in the slightest. Also relatable: Lawrence likes being alone, clings to routine because unscripted social interactions give him anxiety.

Bernard Cornwell, The Last Kingdom (2004) (Saxon Stories #1) I marathoned all three seasons of the BBC/Netflix adaptation earlier this year and I gotta say, lead actor Alexander Dreymon and his combination of martial arts background and tenderness 100% makes the character. Whoever does the score for the show also knocked it out of the park. In comparison, the book falls flat. Uhtred comes off as merely bratty rather than deeply conflicted in his loyalties, which could be a function of his extreme youth—he’s 18 I think at the end of this installment. The Danish vs Saxon identity contest is less prominent here; he pretty much accepts he’s a Saxon. @Bernard Cornwell your English ass is showing. There isn’t a real tight three-act structure, the plot just sort of meanders along from one battle to another (which is a hallmark of Cornwell’s writing, and never bothered me in his Grail Quest trilogy which are some of my favorite books of all time, so idk why it seems like weak sauce here) . One thing that remains constant is that Uhtred becomes irrational when threatened with the loss of things or people he considers MINE. Uhtred: sees a random dog paddling along in the middle of a storm. Uhtred: IS THAT RAGNAR’S DOG. Lmao.

Brandon Sanderson Oathbringer (2017) (Stormlight Archive #3) I opened this book with some trepidation because it is Dalinar’s book, the way Book 1 was Kaladin’s book and Book 2 was Shallan’s. I mean, all the flashbacks belong to Dalinar. You can tell Brandon Sanderson built this world around Dalinar, that Dalinar is more foundational to this ‘verse than any other character. And I gotta hand it to him, when I put the book down there were actual tears in my eyes: “The ancient code of the Knights Radiant says ‘journey before destination.’ But if we stop, if we accept the person we are when we fall, he journey ends. That failure becomes our destination. To love to journey is to accept no such end. I have found, through painful experience, that the most important step a person can take is always the next one.” I think about when Kaladin took the first oath way back in Book 1, when we first heard “journey before destination,” and I say BRAVO SIR BRAVO. I think about how Gavilar’s assassination is this primordial scene we keep circling back to; with each new book we return to the scene of the crime with a different POV and we keep peeling back the layers and upending everything we thought we knew. Other things I am here for: Shallan referring to Kaladin internally as Brightlord Brooding Eyes (I’m still recovering from how Sanderson sank my Kaladin/Shallan ship). Kaladin running into his archnemesis & ex-bully and all he can think is “Adolin would never be caught dead in a coat three seasons out of date” lmao Kaladin x Adolin brOTP of the century. Ok but remember how I said while I was reading Book 2 “I hope Book 3 is 100% Rights for Parshmen”??? Well I called it didn’t I. Turns out humankind are the invaders—they literally rolled up from another planet which they had accidentally destroyed, they came as refugees and they proceeded to…enslave the indigenous parshmen. What. The fuck. Brandon Sanderson was born and raised in the USA, where the ideology of settler colonialism is fucking hegemonic. We are REALLY GOOD at conflating preemptive warfare with self-defense, dispossession with property rights enforcement. We tend to think of democratic self-rule as coextensive with coercive rule over alien subjects. Sanderson’s choice to dismiss out of hand the “would you give the land back to the parshmen” argument is troubling because it absolutely bolsters the settler colonial narrative that indigenous elimination is a necessary condition of settlers’ “freedom”. I realize that the parshmen are currently being led by Hitler but that’s a choice on Sanderson’s part. Giving us 95% human POVs is a choice. This is the story of humans reckoning with their blood-soaked history, not the story of parshmen throwing off their chains.

[libralita]

Way of Kings Reread to prepare for Oathbringer

“Almighty above, Kalak thought. You’re broken too, aren’t you? They all were.”—Page 17

And thus the Radiants must be broken as well.

“‘They see us as divinities,’ Kalak whispered. ‘They rely upon us, Jezrien. We’re all that they have.’”—Page 17

So they aren’t, they were just people.

“The tempest within Szeth gave him many advantages—including the ability to quickly recover from small wounds. But it would not restore limbs killed by a Shardblade.”—Page 30

So a Honorblade can’t restore limbs killed by a Shardblade but being a Radiant can.

“Kharbranth, City of Bells”—Page 61

I forgot that Kharbranth was called the City of Bells.

“I’m dying, aren’t I? Healer, why do you take my blood? Who is that beside you, with his head of lines? I can see a distant sun, dark and cold, shining in a black sky.”—Page 73

Ah, Brandon and his foreshadowing.

“‘Kaladin,’ Syl said, landing on the log, ‘I’m going to leave’ He blinked in shock. Syl. Leave? But…she was the last thing he had left. ‘No,’ he whispered. It came out as a croak. ‘I’ll try to come back,’ she said. ‘But I don’t know what will happen when I leave you. Things are strange. I have odd memories. No, most of them aren’t even memories. Instincts. One of those tells me that if I leave you, I might lose myself.’ ‘Then don’t go,’ he said, growing terrified. ‘I have to,’ she said, cringing. ‘I can’t watch this anymore. I’ll try to return.’ She looked sorrowful. ‘Goodbye.’ And with that, she zipped away into the air, adopting the form of a tiny group of tumbling, translucent leaves. Kaladin watched her go, numb.”—Page 149

Oh, boy, fun fantasy series!

“She cowered down, kneeling on his palm, misty skirt around her legs, drops of rainwater passing through her and rippling her form. ‘You don’t like it then? I flew so far…I almost forgot myself. But I came back. I came back Kaladin.’”—Page 161

My poor sweetie, Syl.

“‘Today,’ King Elhokar announced, riding beneath the bright open sky, ‘is an excellent day to slay a god. Wouldn’t you say?’”—Page 183

Killing gods is so passé, Elhokar. You should really keep up with trends, you’re king after all.

“‘I know,’ Renarin said. His voice was measured, controlled. He always paused before he replied to question, as if testing the worlds in his mind. Some women Adolin knew said Renarin’s ways made them feel as if he were dissecting them with his mind. They’d shiver when they spoke of him, though Adolin had never found his younger brother the least bit discomforting.”—Page 184

Fight me!

“The king beamed.”—Page 188

C’mon, Elhokar, I believe in you! You can be a good king!

“‘Wit!’ Adolin called, waving.”—Page 197

Wit!

“Adolin—stalwart as always—had dismounted beside the king. He tried to stop the claws, striking at them as they fell. Unfortunately, there were four claws and only one of Adolin. Two swung at him at once, and though Adolin sliced a chunk out of one, he didn’t see the other sweeping at his back.”—Page 208

Adolin VS 4 is becoming a pattern.

“But the other one? You saw how he ran out onto the field today. He even forgot to draw his sword or bow! He’s useless!”—Sadeas, Page 227

COME AT ME, BRO! NO ONE TALKS SHIT ABOUT RENARIN!

“‘He is relying heavily on Brightness Lalai to act as clerk.’ Perhaps that would make Jasnah return. There was little love lost between herself and Sadeas’s cousin, who was the king’s head scribe in the queen’s absence.”—Page 422

Whoa, there, Sadeas’s cousin? I’m sure she won’t be a pain in the butt.

“‘Forgiven? Me?’ [Taravangian] seemed to find that amusing, and for a moment, Shallan thought she saw deep regret in his expression. ‘Unlikely. But that is something else entirely. Please. I stand by my questions.’”—Page 464

Ahahahaha.

“Gaz had never gotten used to having just one eye. Could a man get used to that?”—Page 472

I dunno, ask Kelsier.

“Roshone fell still, skewer held limply in his hand, brilliant green eyes narrowed, lips pursed tight. In the dark, those eyes almost seemed to glow.”—Page 546

Panic.

“‘Yelig-nar, called Blightwind, was one that could speak like a man, though often his voice was accompanied by the wails of those he consumed.’—The Unmade were obviously fabrications of folklore. Curiously, most were not considered individuals, but instead personifications of kind of destruction. This quote is from Traxil, line 33, considered a primary source, though I doubt its authenticity.”—Chapter 45, Way of Kings

Everyone in this series think the Unmade aren’t important which makes me think that they’re incredibly important.

“Kabsal hesitated, then walked over, taking the picture in reverent fingers. ‘It’s wonderful,’ he whispered. He looked up, then hurried to his lantern, opening it and pulling out the garnet broam inside. ‘Here,’ he said, proffering it. ‘Payment.’”—Page 639

Why would Kabsal try to pay Shallan for her drawing? Does he know she’s a radiant?

“The flashes of light came from directly ahead. So transfixing. Brushing past a pretty gold- and red-haired woman who huddled frightened in a corner, Kaladin burst through a door.”—Page 648

Who’s that?

“But that implied that they had limited themselves before. Did they do it because they realized that the battlefields left little room for maneuvering? Or was it for speed? But that didn’t make sense—the Alethi had to worry about bridges as choke points, slowing them more and more if they brought more troops. But the Parshendi could jump the chasms. So why commit fewer troops that their all?”—Page 781

They just trying to keep the Alethi distracted?

“The soldiers pulled Sadeas’s helm off, and Dalinar was relieved to see his former friend blinking, looking disoriented by largely uninjured.”—Page 786

Oh, good, Sadeas is still alive…

“I hold the suckling child in my hands, a knife at his throat, and know that all who live wish me to let the blade slip. Spill its blood upon the ground, over my hands, and with it gain us further breath to draw.”—Page 789

What do you guys think of this death rattle? I find it interesting that it first refers to the baby as “he” and then in the next sentence says “its blood” instead of “his”. So there’s possibly some baby possession going on here.

“When a surgeon failed, someone died.”—Page 790

Kal, dear, if a farmer fails to produce food, people will die.

“‘Yes,’ Elhokar replied. ‘And yet they are savages, and easily manipulated. It would be a perfect distraction, pinning the blame on a group of parshmen. We go to war for years and years, never noticing the real villains, working quietly in my own camp. They watch me. Always. Waiting. I see their faces in mirrors. Symbols, twisted, inhuman…’”—Page 826

Oh, poor Elhokar.

“‘Every bridge run,’ Kaladin said. ‘You’re going to make us go on every one.’ ‘Yes,’ she said idly, tapping for her bearers to raise her. ‘Your team is just too good. It must be used. You’ll start full-time bridge duty tomorrow. Consider it an…honor.’”—Page 833

Ah, now I remember why I hate Hashal.

“‘The world as we know it has quite nearly been destroyed,’ Nohadon said. ‘Barely a family exists that hasn’t lost half its members! Our best men are corpses on that field, and we haven’t food to last more than two or three months at best. And I’m to spend my time writing a book? Who would scribe it for me? All of my wordsman were slaughtered when Yelig-nar broke into the chancery. You’re the only man of letters I know of who’s still alive.’”—Page 852

Okay, so Yelig-nar is one of the Unmade. And he existed so, you’re wrong Jasnah.

“None of the soldiers rushing across the chasm had made any specific effort to attack the archers firing on Kaladin, but the weight of numbers had forced them away. A few gave Kaladin loathing gazes, making an odd gesture by cupping a hand to the right ear and pointing at him before finally retreating.”—Page 896

Odd.

“‘Don’t worry,’ Kaladin whispered. When had he started to cry? ‘I’ll bring you home. I’ll protect you, Tien. I’ll bring you back…’”—Page 924

MY HEART.

“‘On your horse, lighteyes’ ‘We should finish him. We could—’ ‘On your horse!’”—Page 940

Get on your fucking horse, Dad!

“Navani steeled herself, folding her arms, trying to quiet the screams of denial and pain that came from the back of her mind. This was a pattern. She often saw patterns in things.”—Page 946

Hmmmmmmmmmmm.

“All is withdrawn for me. I stand against the one who saved my life. I protect the one who killed my promises. I raise my hand. The storm responds.”—Page 945

Possibly foreshadowing Kaladin having to save Roshone or Amaram?

“Wait. You—That—What just happened?”—Page 956

I love this.

“For all I know, there are many groups searching for these secrets.”—Page 992

What? Pffft noooooo. There isn’t a ridiculous amount of secret organizations looking for these secrets. You’re crazy, Jasnah.

[renkholin-blog]

|| ➳ ||

Adolin had always protected him. Standing to defend his honor when those around threatened to overturn it. Renarin tried to stand as a fair mediator between. There were some things spoken he would not dignify with a response, undeserving utterances cast by those who didn’t understand. Nor possessing any fortitude to try. 

Those aspects of the world that were different were readily shunned. It happened that way no matter what avenue they ventured or what subject was at the forefront of attention.

Renarin couldn’t blame them for such a reaction, not with the unstable state of their environment. Where every day was a struggle to survive. He could shrug off most of what was formulated for him to hear, though it may be fashioned to strike at him indirectly, simply those words fluttering at the tail end of the breeze in passing, whispered to brethren or hissed as though such things could ward him from coming too near.

There were some things---

That hit him just right.

It was Middlefest, a celebration of a reprieve to their suffering. A brief period they could pretend to forget that the world was hell. The air was filled with the pleasant aroma of food cooking, fat falling, sizzling on the heated coils. It was a warm night, removed from the common trend of rain and chill that seemed to consistently settle over the land those days, no matter where it was they traveled. The state of all made such contradictions possible. Celebration when there probably should be a modest reverence. Nothing was quite how it should be.

It was night, but no one settled. The air was too alight for a calm retreat into what humble abodes awaited. Tents constructed by vendors and campers alike going empty in favor of the chase. If they didn’t bide their time carefully, what dreams they secretly constructed could easily flutter from between the tips of their fingers moving out of reach.

There was the chaotic din of a thousand conversations going on at once, though none were too boisterous to truly disturb. Cutting bread, laughing, talking in spite of their troubles. Most of it was an act. Trying to play at normalcy when the world crumbled around them. But they did their best to uphold their want.

Fighting was a common trend of their lives and fighting was what many sought to engage in that night.

Friendly duels. 

Open arena’s created wherever they desired to play at combat. It was about the only time many of the youth of the land could try their hand at fighting the most accomplished amongst them! Who wouldn’t wish to pave their name by ‘defeating’ the prince, Adolin Kholin?? It wasn’t in any official means that they would be recognized, but they would earn a few sharp elbows to the side and good natured pats on the back if they should land a hit on his royal behind!

Renarin sat close to watch his brother fight, but shuffled out of the way enough not to interfere with the energetic activity. As isolated as he sometimes made himself, sheltered off in some irrelevant space, or squashed against a corner of the wide stone walls, it was while hovering near the center of such activity that he seemed to thrive the most.

Mostly.

He seemed... distracted, lost in the embrace of something far away rather than the fun erupting around him.

Sometimes he appeared... frightened. Or lost, like he was plopped down front and center in a world that no one else saw. 

Renarin could behave so simply to the eyes of the casual observer, smiling gaily, on occasion, wandering aimlessly. He stared, sometimes, caught up in the complicated rotation of his own thoughts, unable to break free from the romantic temptation provided by the sheer intensity of emotion emitted by other people. A simpleton, others might proclaim, to see it.

There was an entire universe circulating within the mind of the boy just waiting to be birthed. He just didn’t know how to go about it. He didn’t know how to escape the wire cage of his mind that kept him imprisoned.

“Can I play?” He finally posed, an odd focus filtering through, eyes shuffling back to regard the scene before him.

The laughter seemed almost instantaneously to cease, several pairs of eyes shifting to cast their critical gaze upon him. That’s when the whispering started.

Rumors exchanged. Questions asked. Cruel curiosity they didn’t find fit to share with him. Words excluding him entirely.

Monster.

“Am I a monster?”

A comment he heard fluttering near, tugging at the niggling of a feeling he already had sheltered in the back of his mind when he carefully considered himself.

[preservationandruin]

Oathbringer Liveblog, Part Five: Chapters 119-120

I know these are only covering a few chapters at a time, but listen. Its the end of a Sanderson book. Literally everything is happening all the time. 

Dalinar tells god to fuck off, Ultimate Unity Is Achieved (Temporarily), Radiants Do Cool Shit Constantly,  Adolin learns the name of an old friend, Amaram Vored A Rock And You Can Guess How That Went For Him, and--as always--FUCK YEAH, BRIDGE FOUR. 

The epigraphs change, to the postscript of The Way of Kings. The chapter is called Unity. 

“Dalinar? What is this?”  “You cannot have my pain.”  “Dalinar--”  Dalinar forced himself to his feet. “You. Cannot. Have. My. Pain.”  “Be sensible.”  “I killed those children,” Dalinar said.  “No, it--”  “I burned the people of Rathalas.”  “I was there, influencing you--”  “YOU CANNOT HAVE MY PAIN!” Dalinar bellowed, stepping toward Odium. The god frowned. 

Dalinar is LITERALLY GIVING OFF GLORYSPREN. Amaram has to shield his SHITTY RED EYES from it. 

“I did kill the people of Rathalas,” Dalinar shouted. “You might have been there, but I made the choice. I decided!” He stilled. “I killed her. It hurts so much, but I did it. I accept that. You cannot have her. You cannot take her from me again.” 

YEAH! SHUT THE FUCK UP, RAYSE. YOU  DIDN’T KNOW DALINAR KHOLIN LIKE YOU THOUGHT YOU DID. 

“Journey before destination,” Dalinar said. “it cannot be a journey if it doesn’t have a beginning.”  A thunderclap sounded in his mind. Suddenly, awareness poured back into him. The Stormfather, distant, feeling frightened--but also surprised.  Dalinar?  “I will take responsibility for what I’ve done,” Dalinar whispered. “If I must fall, I will rise each time a better man.” 

I LOVE DALINAR SO MUCH. 

Renarin and Jasnah are sprinting through the ward, Renarin struggling to keep up. An entire stream of gloryspren flows by them. 

“I know what you are,” Jasnah said. “You’re my cousin. Family, Renarin. Hold my hand. Run with me.” 

And they head down, down to the glowing light. 

And with all the gloryspren glowing around him, Dalinar notices--Odium looks small. 

Syl looks over to the sea of beads. She pulls Kaladin tight. 

“Maybe you don’t have to save anyone, Kaladin. Maybe it’s time for someone to save you.” 

Dalinar reaches through the worlds. He reaches into the spiritual realm. And he hears Evi’s voice, forgiving him. Venli asks what he is. 

He says he’s Unity. 

And he fucking combines all three realms into one holy FUCK, Dalinar. 

OH MY GOD, HE OPENED HONOR’S PERPENDICULARITY. THAT’S WHAT IT IS. THAT--IT ALL MAKES SENSE. ONLY DALINAR HAS THE REMNANTS OF HONOR’S POWER. ONLY HE COULD DO THIS. 

UNITE THEM. PEOPLE, YES, BUT ALSO THE REALMS. FUCK!

Taln grips onto Ash’s hand. And he says her name. 

“How long?” He asked.  “Taln,” She gripped his hand in both of hers. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” 

He goes outside, and sees Thaylen City. The wall, the soldiers in breastplates and chain. 

And he thanks Ash. Because , in leaving him, they gave humanity four thousand years of progress. She begs him to hate her. He doesn’t. 

Teft gasps. His spren asks him--can he feel the words? He says he’s broken. And...he swears the second ideal, in the most heartwrenching form: 

“I will protect those I hate. Even...even if the one I hate most...is...myself.” 

Renarin and Jasnah reach the last level of the city. Renarin warns Jasnah about Amaram’s soldiers--and she runs straight towards them and wrecks them, soulcasting people and swiping with a Shardblade. Fuck yeah, Jasnah!

And then he looks up, and sees a column of light piercing the sky. 

Navani leans into the light,  laughing like a fool, gloryspren flying around her, brushing her hair. 

“No!” Odium screamed. He stepped forward. “No, we killed you. WE KILLED YOU.” 

And Kaladin, Shallan, and Adolin split out of the pillar of light, just as Amaram was about to fight Dalinar. The explosion of Stormlight from Dalinar also sated Nightblood, meaning Lift and Szeth are alright, although their skin is stained-grey from Nightblood’s hunger. 

Dalinar realizes--Elhokar is not coming through the column of light. He grieves, for a moment. He accepts that grief. And he stands up. And he does better. 

Kaladin Stormblessed stepped up beside Dalinar before the rubble of the wall, and Shallan Davar stood on the other side. Jasnah emerged from the city and surveyed the scene with a critical air, while Renarin popped out behind her, then cried out and ran for Adolin. He grabbed his older brother in an embrace, then gasped. Adolin was wounded?  Good lad, Dalinar thought as Renarin immediately set to healing his brother.  Two more people crossed the battlefield. Lift he had anticipated. But the assassin? Szeth scooped the silvery sheath off the sword and slammed his black shardblade into it, before stepping up to join Dalinar.  Skybreaker, Dalinar thought, counting them off. Edgedancer. That was seven.  He would have expected three more.  There, the Stormfather said. Behind your niece.  Two more people appeared in the shadow of the wall. A large, powerful man with an impressive physique, and a woman with long, dark hair. Their dark skin marked them as Makabaki, perhaps Azish, but their eyes were wrong. 

The heralds, the Radiants--Dalinar did unite them. Odium is gone, fled into nothing. Dalinar is thinking--you know, there should be one more--but oh well. Stormy notes that the last might not have been found yet. 

Oh no, Dalinar’s watch got broken! He starts sending out orders. Renarin, to the Oathgate--and to stop the thunderclast from destroying it, and opening the portal so reinforcements can come. 

Shallan needs to lightweave an army--the Thrill will make the men easier to distract. Jasnah is holding the giant fucking hold in the wall--THAT’S THE COVER OF THE BOOK--Kaladin is guarding Dalinar. And settling a score with Amaram. Lift and Szeth are getting that FUCKING RUBY--although Lift needs food. 

Dalinar heads toward the water, to try to deal with the Thrill. 

Kaladin, of course, shoots into the sky immediately. Of course, he can’t stop being down on himself, because he’s Kaladin. Still. he does get to fight Amaram. 

...who immediately falls to his knees. And just when I think this will be a very, very boring fight--Kaladin notices that Amaram is coughing. Like he’d just...swallowed...something....

Over to Adolin, who is completely healed. His first complaint, when Shallan asks how he’s doing, is that he really liked this jacket! 

...Oh. She made an illusory version of him that was a windrunner. Given his self-esteem issues and feeling inadequate compared to Kaladin, that...can’t be great. 

He summons his shardblade--braces for a scream, although there is none--says he’s sorry, thanks her, and goes into battle. 

Lift and Szeth head off to try to get that GODDAMN ruby, Nightblood humming all the way. And Amaram gets up and INSTANTLY makes me furious again: 

Those red eyes cast a crimson glow through the helm’s slit. “You should thank me, boy,” 

SOMEHOW Amaram has decided that he is the SOLE EVENT that FORGED KALADIN, that MADE HIM INTO THE MAN HE IS NOW. Bull fucking shit. That same self-important assholery that makes Amaram so hateable is coming through again. 

And he’s dual-wielding Shardblades, of course. because why not. Syl is just like “don’t worry, he’s only human!” and that’s when Yelig-nar’s smoke starts to envelop him. 

Dalinar is heading towards the Thrill. He says “hello, old friend,” and then he walks into it. 

Shallan pours out stormlight, creating every person she’s ever sketched. Pattern is humming, louder and louder. All of her drawings--everyone she’s Connected to, because that’s what her drawing is. Her father and mother step from the illusion, and Shallan freezes and starts to fail--

--and then Veil takes her left hand, and Radiant in garnet Shardplate takes her right. Others try to crawl up--but no. That’s enough. They retreat into Stormlight, and hundreds and hundreds more soldiers surge up from the light. 

Adolin sees Jasnah basically toss men around like toys and is like, alright, Jasnah doesn’t need help. He runs off to help Queen Fen and her husband. 

Jasnah, meanwhile,  is abusing the closeness of the three realms to make her Soulcasting much, much easier.

Lift swears as the Fused with the ruby takes it into the sky, and Nightblood wants her to teach him swear words. 

LET! NIGHTBLOOD! SAY! FUCK!

Szeth takes to the air and takes her down, grabbing the ruby--and then three more Fused head toward him. Whoops. 

Back over to Adolin, who’s met up with Navani! She asks about Elhokar--Adolin says he’s sorry, and holds her while she cries. 

Jasnah mends the entire breach in the wall with her Soulcasting. And then just dusts her hands off. Adolin starts working on putting a stable defense together. And Adolin heads off to help the soldiers fighting one of the thunderclasts. 

Back to the Kaladin vs Amaram duel! Amaram is fighting, dual-wielding swords--the one bought with the blood of Kaladin’s men, the other given as payment for Bridgeman lives. A crystal just fucking SPROUTED FROM HIS ELBOW. Kal’s also running interference for Dalinar from the other Fused, too. 

It’s actually really handy for the Radiants that the thunderclast tore the Gem Reserve asunder--because now there are all these infused Gemstones all over the battlefield. Nice. 

Oh, shit, Amaram has pulled out one of those Shardbows. 

Amaram stood near his horse, where he’d unhooked a massive Shardbow that used arrows as thick as a spear’s haft. Amaram raised it to loose again, and a line of crystals jutted out along his arm, cracking his Shardplate. Storms, what was happening to that man? 

He sold his soul for power, and now it’s taken his body, too. Kal dives Amaram, summoning Syl as a short spear--how appropriate--and charges Amaram. 

Dalinar is in the thrill, and it’s happy to see him. I guess Nergaoul, despite being “mindless,” apparently, can still recognize people. 

He had imagined it as some evil force, malignant and insidious, like Odium or Sadeas. 

ODIUM OR SADEAS. I love how those two are put on the same level here. 

Nergaoul remembers the times that the Thrill receded from Dalinar as times it was abandoned. Oh, Nergaoul. What was it, I wonder, before Odium grabbed it and twisted it? 

Jasnah, meanwhile, cuts through a Fused’s head without even turning to look at it. She says she’s gonna do her best to stop Shallan from getting herself killed, given the rate at which Shallan is eating through Stormlight. 

Lift and Szeth (and Nightblood) are just a great comic dynamic, especially now Lift can hear Nightblood. Lift has an idea for how to steal the ruby. 

Shallan is still holding onto Veil and Radiant, and she’s burning herself out. Somehow, she’s managed to make her illusions actually fight, a little. She thinks she might be using Soulcasting as well as Lightweaving. She’s getting drawn more and more into it--

And then someone--probably Lift--asks if she could, uh, stop hugging herself for a minute to help. 

Back to Kal v Amaram! Amaram is still talking like himself--this weird hybrid-monster kept the most monstrous part of Amaram, his mind. 

FUCK, whatever Amaram is now can change stone into liquid. He traps Kaladin’s feet and snaps both of his ankles--fuck. And then he starts gliding across the ground. 

is that...abrasion and friction? Does Yelig-nar mimic dustbringer powers? I don’t know. Kaladin chucks a rock at a Fused getting too close to Dalinar, and throws another rock at Amaram’s horse to get the Shardbow away, too. 

Well, he’s fought people in Shardplate before. Syl suggests he try stabbing Amaram in the face as well. 

And then Kal is up against a Fused and Amaram. Fuck. 

Back over to Adolin! He is looking up at the thunderclast,  summoning his Blade. 

He felt something. A stirring on the wind.  “You want to fight it, don’t you?” Adolin asked. “It reminds you of when you were alive.”  Something tickled his mind, very faint, like a sigh. A single word: Mayalaran. A...name?  “Right, Maya,” Adolin said. “Let’s bring that thing down.” 

SHE TOLD HIM HER NAME. AHHHHHHHHHH IM SO GLAD THAT THIS IS HAPPENING IM SO GLAD THAT ADOLIN’S KINDNESS HAS RESULTS IM SO GLAD THAT, EVEN IN A SMALL WAY, MAYALARAN GETS TO DO THINGS THAT SHE WANTS AND CONVEY HER EMOTIONS, I’M SO HAPPY

Adolin finds a small boy huddled in the house, and gets him out of there, trying to distract the thunderclast, jumping through windows and running. 

A hand in Shardplate reached out of a building nearby, grabbed Adolin, and pulled him inside. 

WHAT

Back to Dalinar. He talks to the thrill, accepting what he was. Thanking it for giving him strength, sometimes--and it makes a happy sound, it crowds closer to him. Nergaoul almost reminds me of an animal of some sort, reacting to someone being nice to it. Dalinar admits--he understands Nergaoul. 

Venli is creeping away, feeling sick, the rhythms going crazy in her, fighting. She manages to grab onto one. The Rhythm of the Lost. The only one of the old rhythms she heard. Timbre thrums to the same rhythm, vibrating through Venli. 

Lost. What had Venli lost?  Venli missed being someone who cared about something other than power. Knowledge, favoritism, forms, wealth--it was all the same to her. Where had she gone wrong?  Timbre pulsed. Venli dropped to her knees. Cold stone reflected lightning from above, red and garish. 

Her eyes aren’t red at all. And she starts. She starts swearing the words. She gets almost through them--to Journey--and then a Fused crashes into her. But Timbre isn’t in her pouch. 

Instead, she’s in her gemheart. She’s keeping the Voidspren in there captive. Venli storms into the cabin of the ship, grabs a sphere. Ruby, glowing. 

She finishes swearing the first Ideal. Odium, you thought you killed the problem sister. But by doing that, you made the other one a problem too. 

Fortunately, the dude who grabbed Adolin was one of the Thaylen Shardbearers. They are teaming up, now--Adolin can hit, while the man--Hrdalm--has Plate and can take hits. Unfortunately, the Fused pounce for Hrdalm. 

And Adolin throws his Shardblade to kill one of the fused. “Alright, Maya. We’ve practiced this.” 

Unfortunately, he’s cornered now with the thunderclast. He summons Maya back, hits again--but it flicks him against a wall, and he definitely broke a rib. He starts counting again. 

AND MAYA COMES ON SEVEN, BECAUSE HE NEEDS HER. AHHHH. 

Maya’s also started bugging him in his mind--he gets knocked through a roof and is picking himself up, and she’s brushing against his mind to do it faster. 

Fortunately, before Adolin does anything else stupid, Renarin runs up. He reminds Adolin that, uh, he can’t heal and HAS NO ARMOR and then charges the thunderclast. Renarin’s healing is so fast that, apparently, being crushed can’t slow him down for very long. 

Adolin gives Maya to Hrdalm so that he can use her, and Hrdalm’s response is great in respect to their various religions: 

“Great Honor in you, Prince Adolin,” he said. “Great Passion in me at this aid.” 

Szeth notes that the Fused don’t expect him to have trained, when learning to use the Honorblade, with all of the Surges. And he and Lift pull a switch--one pouch with a fake gemstone, the other with the real one. With the help of Shallan and an illusory rock, of course. 

I can’t believe the Fused thought they could out-steal Lift. 

Szeth notes that the closer he gets to Nergaoul/the mist, the louder the whispers in his head become. And Lift goes into the mist to help Dalinar. 

Amaram is screaming in pain. Kaladin’s fighting the other Fused and doing his level best not to let it distract him. 

Well, there are amethysts growing out of his face, I think that might be part of why he’s screaming. He’s leaving flaming tracks--that seems to support my claim about Yelig-nar imitating Dustbringers’ powers. Dalinar is in trouble--meanwhile, Amaram is hiking off to get his fucking bow. 

There’s something weirdly funny about this human-parshman hybrid screaming in pain, and then his opponent flies off and he’s just like. welp. gotta go get my bow. Oh well. 

Oh, shit, Amaram can superjump. Not sure what’s letting him do that, but I think a good bet would be “Yelig-nar, obviously.” 

Shit, he can do Lashings too. Clearly, paying attention to which surges he’s using isn’t going to do me much good. 

Also, for fuck’s sake, Amaram still is going on about honor: 

Amaram grinned. “Odium promised me something grand, and that promise has been kept. With honor.”  “You still pretend to speak of honor?”  “Everything I do is for honor.” Amaram swept with a single Blade, making Kaladin dodge. “It was honor that drove me to seek the return of the Heralds, of powers, and our god.”  “So you could join the other side?” 

Amaram admits that he hurt, after he killed Kaladin’s men--but then he realized, it wasn’t his fault,  was it? Nothing was his fault. 

Same as Moash. Same as he tried to do to Dalinar. Nothing’s your fault, give me your pain. And give me your responsibility, your morals too. 

“I made you, Kaladin!” Amaram’s red eyes lit the crystals that rimmed his face. “I gave you that granite will, that warrior’s poise. This, the person you’ve become, was my gift!”  “A gift at the expense of everyone I loved?”  “What do you care? It made you strong! Your men died in the name of battle, so that the strongest man would have the weapon. Anyone would have done what I did, even Dalinar himself.”  “Didn’t you tell me that you’d given up that grief?”  “Yes! I’m beyond guilt!”  “Then why do you still hurt?”  Amaram flinched. 

Eat shit, Amaram. 

Nice try, manipulating Kaladin, but you protested too much. You spent so much time spouting justifications. How long have you rehearsed those? Could you even convince yourself? 

Kaladin points it out--Odium will never, never give Amaram peace. There is no absolution to be found there. Just the illusion. 

The highprince’s entire chest had collapsed inward. There was no sign of ribs or internal organs. Instead, a large violet crystal pulsed inside his chest cavity, overgrown with dark veins. If he’d been wearing a uniform of padding beneath the armor, it had been consumed.  He turned toward Kaladin, heart and lungs replaced by a gemstone that glowed with Odium’s dark light. 

How does that power feel, Amaram? Kaladin keeps pointing it out--if you’re truly guiltless, if you truly believe the sanctimony you spit, why do you still  hurt? 

And Amaram is furious. 

And he makes a mistake--he jumps into the air. And if you’re fighting Kaladin? You never go into the air. He manages--he slams Syl, a spear, against the gemstone at the heart of whatever Amaram turned himself into. And it cracks. 

Kaladin floated downward toward him. “Ten spears go to battle,” he whispered, “and nine shatter. Did that war forge  the one that remained? No, Amaram. All the war did was identify the spear that would not break.” 

Amaram is howling, clutching his gemheart--which goes out. And the area goes down into darkness. 

Unfortunately, the Fused are still coming. 

Meanwhile, the thunderclast is collapsing. Renarin and the Thaylen Shardbearer have cut off its legs and one arm--that’s good. Glys is trying to give Renarin advice--- Light. You will make it go with light. 

He summons stormlight, and the thunderclast’s eyes fade and it settles, dying back down. Renarin’s still worried--he saw himself dying on this day. But he’s alive. 

Shallan, Veil, and Radiant are losing their army. But one figure doesn’t vanish like the others. Long black hair blown free of braids, she steps in between the trio of Shallans and the enemy. 

Jasnah Kholin has arrived. 

Also, at that moment, Shallan--the one who looked like Shallan-Shallan--was a fake, and Radiant was the real one, which alarms Jasnah for a moment. We’re cycling through names for Shallan with incredible speed. They finally, finally reach the top of the wall. 

Renarin is heading for the Oathgate. He notes that while his fits seem to have stopped, he still sees the world differently--in our terms, Stormlight doesn’t heal autism because why the fuck would it? It’s not an illness. 

Twelve Fused are hovering over the Oathgate. Renarin heads into the spanreed room, and reports that Urithiru has also been attacked. Strangely, the Kharbranth faction has fallen completely silent. Unsurprising. 

So he turns to go open it himself--and is startled and surprised when nobody tells him not to. Renarin gets new fits, now--ones where it looks like stained glass spreads around him, forming panels of images. What he sees...it makes him smile. 

“You’re wondering why I’m smiling,” Renarin said.  They didn’t respond.  “Don’t worry,” Renarin said. “You didn’t miss something funny. I...well, I doubt you’ll find it amusing.”  Light exploded from the Oathgate platform in a wave. 

I’m gonna take a wild shot in the dark, here, and say: FUCK YEAH, BRIDGE FOUR. 

YEP Bridge Four has come through, let by a Knight Radiant with a Shardspear. 

Teft. 

Shallan is still lost in all three of her, but she says that after she rests, she thinks she can settle down to being one. Rock starts nagging Renarin about getting his uniform ruined, Lyn rats out the fact that Rock got hurt when he tries to pretend it’s nothing. Fortunately, they’re near Kal--they’re getting stormlight again. 

“Kaladin is close,” Rock agreed. “Ha! I feed him. But here, today, he fed me. With light!”  Lyn eyed Rock. “Storming Horneater weighs as much as a chull...” She shook her head. “Kara will fight with the others--don’t tell anyone, but she’s been practicing with a spear since childhood, the little cheater.” 

I love all the little ways people--Renarin, Kara, Lyn herself, everyone really--violates gender norms. 

Rock hugs Renarin--Ren is a little uncomfortable, as this was not a time he was okay with just being...randomly grabbed for a hug (big mood, Renarin), but he’s so, so glad Bridge Four has arrived. 

Dalinar is drifting in the Thrill. And Lift comes in, pressing the ruby into his hand. Dalinar remembers what Taravangian said about luring in spren, trapping them. 

And, for the last time in his life, he embraces the Thrill. He embraces Nergaoul. He thanks it, and it is so, so happy to be praised. 

“Now, old friend, it is time to rest.” 

Kal is fighting like eight-on-one. He doesn’t have to win, though--he just has to survive. 

Meanwhile,  whatever Dalinar is doing, it’s making Nergaoul thrash and writhe, and the Fused are running. And then it implodes, and the Everstom grows still. 

AND GUESS WHO FUCKING ISN’T DEAD: 

A scraping sound came from nearby, and then a violet light flickered in the darkness. A shadow stumbled to its feet, dark purple light pulsing alive in its chest cavity, which was empty save for that gemstone.  Amaram’s glowing red eyes illuminated a distorted face: his jaw had broken as he’d fallen, and gemstones had pushed out of the sides of his face at awkward angles, making the jaw hang limp from his mouth, drool leaking out the side. He stumbled toward Kaladin, gemstone heart pulsing with light. A Shardblade formed in his hand. The one that had killed Kaladin’s friends so long ago. 

AND HE’S ABOUT TO STRIKE AMARAM DOWN, AND KALADIN SAYS “BRIDGE FOUR.”  AND AN ARROW SLAMS INTO AMARAM FROM BEHIND. 

AND ANOTHER SHOOTS HIM RIGHT THROUGH THE GEMHEART, AND ROCK IS GLOWING ON THE RUBBLE, WITH AMARAM’S SHARDBOW. 

Sometimes, Kaladin doesn’t have to save everyone. Sometimes, it’s time for them to save Kaladin. 

Dalinar is crying as he cradles the gemstone containing Nergaoul. It’s over. It’s over.