Over the past two weeks or so, there was quite a lot of movement in the attic of his cottage house. ''Rats, its most likely just rats'', the warrior kept saying to himself, promising he would sort them out at some point. Now, it was a pretty cold day, snow was sure to come any second, so of course, Adagio went out to get more wood for the fire He heard whimpers by the time he got back, coming from his attic, sword at the ready. His eyes went wide as he saw Kaladin, the same prince he helped fight this damn war so many years ago, an old torn blanket of his wrapped around him, wearing the most shortest of shorts in the fucking winter. He was hurt, clearly, and had clearly passed out the second he’d gotten into the attic, heartbeat faint as he wrapped his winter coat around him.

So now, here was the traitor, the boy who turned his back on him, laying on his sofa, warm blanket around his small frame as he started up the fire. He shouldn't be taking care of the brat like this, he should just leave him to die,- he really should-