Thanks again to my beta Kai/3351 who read over this chapter!

All constructive criticism and/or advice and/or comment about general appreciation is extremely appreciated.


Kaladin

Kaladin woke to the sound of someone panting heavily, along with a thumping noise, which was weird because it was usually silent in his cell. He opened his eyes to the sight of Adolin Kholin doing push-ups at a staggering rate by his side. Right. He now shared his cell with the obnoxious princeling. Apparently, even in prison, one couldn't find peace. And apparently, the princeling was pressed to work out, even if they had the whole day ahead of them with absolutely nothing to do. The blond seemed to notice he was awake, because he interrupted his set of exercises to speak.

"Sorry about the noise. Can't let prison get me out of shape. Hope you don't mind."

He looked relaxed, but he spoke in short sentences, breathing in within each one, as if to hide the fact that he was out of breath. Kaladin growled and said:

"You could have done your little exercises anytime. In case you didn't know, there's no schedule in this prison. It's not like you're going to be busy for the rest of the day. Could've let me sleep."
"Actually, I like to start the day this way. It's energizing. Keeps me well."
"Humph," was Kaladin's only reply.

So Prince Adolin Kholin woke up early to train. If Teft had wagered with him, Kaladin would have bet the princeling stayed in bed with whoever shared his mattress in the mornings. Not this. At the very least, he didn't expect the princeling to wake earlier than he did himself. Maybe that was simply the consequence of sleeping on the floor, it wasn't particularly tempting to stay in bed.

"You should do the same," continued Adolin while starting a new series of push-ups. "Keep active."

He was right. Not only it would keep him in shape, but it would also busy his mind. He should have done so since his first day in prison. Plus, he needed to be in shape the day he got out of here. Because he would get out. He had acted as if he had forgotten. He hated the fact that he had needed Adolin to remind him of that. Displeased, he stepped off of the bench and began to copy Adolin's movements. They trained for what Kaladin estimated as a good two hours before Adolin stopped counting series aloud and sat down against the wall.

"Already tired, Brightlord?" Kaladin snickered.
"Don't call me that."
"What? 'Brightlord'? You've never seemed bothered by anyone calling you 'Brightlord' before. Everyone calls you Brightlord all the time!"
"From your mouth, it sounds like an insult."

It was. Lighteyes and their perquisite birthrights and ranks, the Heralds knew what he thought of them.

"What am I to call you then? Cellmate? Blondie?"
"My own name will suffice. Adolin. At least for the time we're in prison."

Adolin. Right. That sounded weird.

Breakfast came, along with bandages and some sweet-smelling plant paste. Medication, probably mixed with flowery vegetation to cover the smell; something Kaladin had never worked with. They were way too expensive. His father preferred to buy more supplies, rather than fewer nice smelling ones.

"I think these are for me," Adolin said pointing at the bandages. "Renarin probably sent them, he knew I planned to get in here".

Kaladin nodded and picked up one of the food bowls. On his part, Adolin removed his blue coat and shirt, revealing a large bandage across his chest and around his left shoulder. As he unwrapped it, Kaladin pursed his lips at the sight. An enormous purplish bruise ate all of Adolin's left side. It must have occurred during the fight. Bruises changed colors over time in a predictable pattern, and the blue-and-purple color indicated the blood under the skin had begun healing as it had changed from its original reddish color. This couldn't be more than a few days old. Even in Shardplate, one couldn't avoid the consequences of taking a hit. At the shoulder, a bunch of tiny red dots were clustered together, indicating the bandage was too tight and caused pressure on the skin.

"You should eat before touching any of that," said Kaladin. "It isn't clean. Don't want to infect what you eat".

"I'm in prison, Mr. Know-it-All. Everything I touch is already dirty. Besides, there's no blood outside. It's only a bruise."

And a serious one, thought Kaladin. Even bruises could get infected. Although he didn't exactly know why, some of them could clog and turn solid instead of dissolving. It wasn't good when that happened. Despite its gigantic size and ugly color, Adolin's bruise looked healthy. He grit his teeth as he removed the last part of the bandage, which stuck to his skin a little.

"Still," Kaladin continued, "It's good practice."
"Keep your advice for when it's actually useful," snapped Adolin while drawing in a sharp breath.
"Yeah. It's wasted on someone as stubborn as you."

Adolin only tightened his lips in response. He closed his eyes and placed his hands on the floor. He was trembling a little. The sight of his own bruised chest seemed to unsettle him. He drew another breath, opened his eyes again and started to apply paste over the wound. He was doing a butcher's job, not applying the paste thoroughly where it was necessary, brushing over darker parts of the bruise, and being generally inefficient. Kaladin swallowed the last bite of his breakfast and set his bowl aside before approaching.

"Let me do it," he said.

Adolin raised his gaze to meet his eyes and shook his head.

"I'm a surgeon's son," Kaladin added.
"Which means you're not a surgeon yourself."
"I've been trained. I'll be faster and more meticulous. You can barely see what you're doing under your arm and on the side of your back."

Adolin gave him a fiery look, but understood the logic in Kaladin's argument and lowered his hand. He eyed the other man, wary of him touching the injury. Nonetheless, Kaladin picked up some sweet-scented paste and started working his way around the bruise. Adolin hissed a few times as he passed on the more sensitive spots, but mainly he seemed to concentrate on keeping from showing any reaction at all. When Kaladin started pressing on the bruise to help the paste penetrate, Adolin tensed and stared indignantly at the force of Kaladin's massage. With a hoarse voice, he growled:

"What-are-you-doing?"
"Rubbing the paste in will help it infiltrate the skin. You should also ask for hot water and apply a compress three times a day, it will help the blood resorb faster into the skin."
"We're in prison, you cremling-brained surgeon. I doubt they even have hot water in the building. Are you done torturing me?" said Adolin, throwing his head back for a breath of air.

Kaladin thought that if the princeling was able to convince jailers to lock him in the cell, he could surely persuade them to bring a little hot water every day. However, his stiff face and tightened lips indicated that Adolin couldn't take it anymore. Kaladin finished stroking the section he had started and removed his hands. He wiped them on the bandages, gathered what was left of the paste and spread it on the fabric before wrapping it around Adolin's chest.

"I can do that myself" said the princeling.
"You've strained your own shoulder with unbalanced compression. Stop being uncooperative and let me finish."
"I've been VERY accommodating! You've poked me through the whole process!"
"It's not my fault you're so feeble!"
"The bruise puts pressure on my lung you idiot, it's hard to even breathe normally!"
"Using the words a surgeon told you as an excuse, are you? Well maybe if you had not trained all morning and rested, it would be have been a little better. And to think you planned to embark on a second duel with this wound untreated. You really are careless."
"WHAT IS IT WITH EVERYBODY ACCUSING ME OF BEING CARELESS? WHO ARE YOU TO TALK, JUMPING AROUND IMPULSIVELY ALL THE TIME?"
"It's my job to protect you."
"Well I'm FINE. Focus on something else."

Fortunately, Kaladin had finished tying the bandage strips before the end of their argument and simply backed off. Princeling wanted to be sulk alone? Fine by him. Kaladin didn't mind being alone. Still, something bugged him.

"You should tend to your finger too. Otherwise it won't heal properly." He said to the princeling from the far end of the cell. He got no answer.

Adolin fumbled with his shirt as he put it back on rapidly and retreated to his spot near the bars. Both of them had seemed to have established their sides of the cell now. Kaladin often remained on the stone bench near the window, alternating between siting and raising himself to observe whatever was outside. The courtyard had always been empty so far, it was probably an unused area, constructed to allow only a few openings into the prison cells. Adolin stood near the steel bars in the middle of the cell, and faced the door most of the time. Time passed by.

Kaladin didn't speak to Syl much. He didn't want Adolin to hear them talk. Besides, she seemed fine busying herself with discovering all the interesting things that lay in a prison; currently, the growing stain on his cellmate's blue coat.

"Princeling - "
"I'm not in the mood to talk."
"Yes, but - "
"I said, keep your reprimands for some other time. In fact, keep them to yourself, that would be just great."

Storms, that man was stubborn.
"Adol - "
"SHUT UP."
"You're bleeding all over your coat. I think your nail fell off."
"STORM IT!" the blond roared.

He looked down at his hand, and his eyes grew wide. It was red with blood. Briskly, he turned towards Kaladin and asked:
"What do I do now?"
"Stop the bleeding. Press on the wound and elevate your finger. Then wait." He paused. "Don't worry, nails grow back."

Adolin did as instructed and added with a vexed air:
"I stained my uniform."
"You'll buy yourself a new one."

Adolin sighed and went back to contemplating the door, awkwardly holding both his arms over his head. He was a tall man, his hands almost touched the ceiling. He didn't look like he belonged in this cell. Prison tended to make people seem smaller and weaker, but it didn't work on him. Despite his affliction and annoyed air, he simply looked oversized and out of place, like he didn't belong.

"I'll sleep on the floor tonight." Kaladin said. "Tomorrow it'll be your turn again."

Adolin looked at him and nodded in agreement. Kaladin took it as a sign of appreciation and settled himself under the blanket.