Fi shrugged. "Perhaps you see it that way. I was not kind to you on the battlefield." He stood up off the bed, leaning over to brush his thumb across the scar on Johan's cheek. He had been proud to leave such a visible mark. He was still proud, but it was tinged with something else. Something whistful. It woud not have been pleasent to heal from. People here were doubtlessly cruel about it. "But I am not every person in Usige, just as you are not every person in Nord Widonia. You will not be inhuman forever. You will get your humanity back, you simply have to wait."
Johan glared at Fiori, pulling his head away from his grand as best he could. He couldn’t go very far without hurting his neck. Indeed the scar on his cheek was very sensitive. Both emotionally and physically. Sometimes when he scowled or smiled, or did anything it still hurt. He remembered being in the infirmary getting stitches. It was one of the most painful injuries he’d ever endured. “Long enough for my hair to grow back,” he muttered. If he was lucky, his brother wouldn’t think to keep cutting it back. “That will take years. Might as well kill me.”
"If you think your dignity is worth more than your life, then I'm afraid the only fool here is you." He let his hand drop. His scar from Johan stretched across his back, gnarled and pale. He'd torn it open too many times to count while it was still healing, but he had accepted the pain. It was worth it, for the honor of facing someone so worthy. "You can still scheme and plot and lie in wait like this. You can still be yourself, you can still act. That's an honor the dead have yet to gain."
Johan lifted his eyes back up to Fiori’s face. As much as he hated to admit it, even silently, Fiori had made a point. He pressed his lips together in thought. He’d lose everything except his life. If what this man said were true, all he would have to do was lie in wait, which was an agonizing punishment in and of itself. “If my memory does me any good,” he decided to change the subject to a more comfortable one for him, “I didn’t treat you on the battlefield very kindly either. How’s your back?” The corner of his lips raised with the hints of a devilish smile. “How’s your back, prince?”
Fi was glad to see the light return to Johan's face a bit, even if it was likely becuase the princehad sussed out the perfect time to kill him when he would suspect nothing. He knew he probably wasn't supposed to be giving Johan ideas, but he trusted that he and Levi would be strong and smart enough to keep him in check no matter what he did. He was snapped out of his thoughts by the sudden question, a small smile of his own playing on his lips. "So you remembered. My back is scarred, Johan. In a great line between my shoulders."
“Of course I remembered. The day I nearly killed the crown prince of Usige.” He was proud of the scar he put on his back, and proud that it was still there. He only regretted that he couldn’t have killed him. Perhaps if he had killed him, the two of them wouldn’t be here. Levi would still be a slave in Usige, and Johan would be still be regent. “I’d like to see it. The scar.”
Fiori laughed. "Nearly killed is a great overstatement, Johan. I'm not the one who was left for dead on the battlefield." To say he had been surprised when he heard the news of Johan's survival was an understatement, but then it had only increased his admiration for the man. It took a strong will to survive a blow like that and come back fighting. He was startled out of his thoughts by the request, but he took it in stride. "Alright." He stripped out of his shirt, turning so Johan could get a good look. It was an ugly thing, twisted and gnarled and stretched too tight across the skin, yet he still held himself with pride.
Johan’s eyes widened at the sight, soon followed by another one of his sly grins. “Even if nearly killed is an overstatement, I assume it made the rest of your tour a hell of a lot more difficult.” And he considered that something to be proud of. Johan tried fo straighten his back as well, but was sharply interrupted by the bruises around his torso.
"It ended my tour." Fi glanced behind him, taing in the satisfaction on Johan's face. He understood that people here had a different understanding of things than he did, but something about the smile still put him ill at ease. Johan seemed very proud to have hurt him. "I left for half a year, and returned when I was well enough to swing a sword." He slipped his shirt on again and turned back to Johan, easing him back into a sitting positionon the bed. "I assume you did the same."
“I did,” Johan agreed. He conveniently left out the part about how he didn’t return to war so soon. His plan with Levi and becoming regent of Nord Widona had gotten of the way of returning to his tour. He grimaced at being moved, bringing his hand to rest gingerly on his stomach. “My face injury was more cosmetic than anything,” he muttered.
"I doubt it." He watched how Johan moved, taking in the places that seemed to hurt when he moved. Stomach mostly, obviously, but it seemed like there were problems with his ribs too. "I know what it feels like to hit bone, and I know what it feels like to break it. You still feel pain there, don't you?" He traced a line down his face, indicating Johan's scar. "The nerves are damaged beyond repair."
Johan opened his eyes slowly once he was sitting still again. “I don’t smile as much as I used to,” he admitted begrudgingly. “Or any major facial expression.” Right now his more recent injuries bothered him more than his face did, and he knew that these injuries likely would make his movements forever stiff. He guessed the guards had at least bruised his ribs, if they weren’t broken.
Normally it was easy to gauge how hurt people were by their reactions, but it was always tricky with soldiers. It was easy to muscle the pain down, force your way through it and keep moving if you had enough practice, and over time you started getting numb to it anyways. Johan would definitely have rib problems, and there might've been some bruising on his organs as well. He pushed Johan's shoulder so he would lie down. "Yes. And now you won't move as much as you used to, not for a while. May I take a look at your injuries up close?"
Johan grimaced again on his way down, but relaxed as he settled into a more comfortable position. He eyed Fiori carefully at the request as if he were still trying to judge whether he was an immediate threat or not. Even after he expressed he didn't want to hurt Johan, he supposed maybe it was a ruse. Fiori wasn't his master. At least not yet. "I would rather see an actual physician," Johan replied, but he knew there wasn't much he could do if Fiori wanted to dismiss his desires and examine his injuries anyway.
Fi understood Johan's unwillingness to accept help, so he shrugged off the suspicion with grace and mad no move to reach for Johan or force him to expose his stomach. "I do not know where an actual physician is, and given the scope of the palace I doubt you are well enough to walk to wherever he may reside." Getting a physician would've been an excellent idea if he knew where one was, but as it was his basic knowledge of wound dressing was all they had.
“The nearest physician lives a mile from the palace,” Johan muttered back. “So, no. I will not be walking there.” He looked off to the side and fixed his gaze on a spit on the floor. He had an hour or so—he guessed—left of freedom, and he would be spending it already trapped on his bed. He would rather walk a mile in pain than sitting in unofficial captivity. Might as well make the best of it. “…I’m hungry.” He lifted his gaze from the floor back to Fiori, expectantly.
"Then I will walk with you to the kitchens." He'd like to be able to scoop Johan up and carry him around, but he doubted the prince would allow that now that he didn't look like a drowned kitten. He'd have to talk to Levi about getting a physician, even if it was just for a cursory visit. And he would have to find some way to get rid of all the knives in his room. And he would have to fashion some sort of collar or ask Levi to make use of his old one. "You know where they are, yes?"
“Fine. Of course I know where the kitchens are,” Johan rolled his eyes. He assumed he could walk. Even if it hurt, he could manage. He’d dealt with worse pains on the battlefield. After taking in a precursory breath, he inched his legs off the side of the bed. It was already past the time he usually had dinner, and despite the nausea gathering in the pit of his stomach he was quite peckish. “Why wouldn’t I know where the kitchens are?”
Fi took Johan's arm and draped it across his shoulders so he could support the prince's weight while they walked, easing him into a standing position. He really would like to wrap Johan's ribs. Maybe the prince would be more amenable after a good meal. "You do not seem the sort, prince." They moved out of the bedroom, and Fi let Johan take the lead. "You are… haughty. Arrogant."
“Well.” Johan took each step consciously trying not to hurt himself anymore than he already was. His hair was starting to dry into thick tangles, curled around the edges. His hair was very similar to Levi’s: thick, wavy, yet it curled for a short time while it air dried. Still, he stared forward down the hallway with his chin level. Despite his ragged appearance it seemed he was attempting to maintain a degree of dignity. “I do not deny that. But I know the layout of my own palace. After living here for eighteen years.”
Fi made sure Johan kept most of his weight on him, watching as the prince walked proudly forward. He was very dignified, even hobbled like he was. Very noble. He hummed softly when Johan agreed with his assessment, raising a curious eyebrow. "I see. If you know you are arrogant, why don't you change? Does it not befit a prince to be… common?"
“No. I don’t see why I should change something about myself that makes me a good ruler.” Johan squinted forwards with gently pursed lips. “Nord Widona needs a king who’s confident in his decisions. Leviticus contradicts himself.” It was still quite a walk towards the kitchens. Through the rest of the hall, and down two flights of stairs.
"Leviticus takes the time to think things through." He gave Johan a once over. "You are very… assured of yourself. You think you are the best person fit to rule." It would explain why Johan wanted Levi out of the way, but not why he did it in such a cruel way. "Have you ever considered that Leviticus may be a better fit? He is… good-tempered. Kind. He seeks connections with people, that is a valuable thing."
Johan lifted his chin up an inch. He would have raised it more, but the bruise around his neck inhibited him. “It seems that way, yes. However, you don’t know him like I do. Have you ever considered he isn’t the perfect fit for the throne?” Maybe Leviticus did seek connections, and there was no doubt it was valuable, but there was much more to being a king than that.
Fiori nodded. "I know what it takes to be king, Johan, but I also know that there are different ways to rule. Perhaps Leviticus will not rule like I will, or like you might have, but that does not mean he will be unfit for the crown. Nobody is a perfect fit for the throne." Everyone had to be molded to fit. It was a difficult position, dangerous and often unrewarding, and the meant those who took it had to be trained and taught until they would not bow beneath the weight of the crown on their head. "We all must change to fit, and I do not think that's something yo have considered."
