Johan twitched at the unexpected tap on his jaw, and opened his eyes again. He was determined to conceal his softened gaze with a hardened glare. “I don’t care if it hurts. I’ll relax when you’re done touching my face.” A part of him did wish he could let down his guard, and logically he knew he could without being immediately hurt. But Fiori’s presence, especially being so close, was a threat regardless. He kept the glare on Fiori for only a few seconds before tossing it to the other side of the bed. He wasn’t angry at Fiori—not really, not right now.
Fiori sighed softly and returned to his work. "It would be very helpful if you could at least try to take care of yourself, you know." He'd started at the top of the scar and now he was at the very bottom, the curve of Johan's jaw. He withdrew his hands a few moments later, wiping them on his pants before he screwed the lid back onto the salve. It was strange to see Johan turn a glare away from him instead of pinning him with it like an insect on display, but it brought a wan smile to his mouth. So he wasn't a target today. "Even if I am so intolerable to you."
“I did take care of myself.” Johan breathed out a nearly inaudible sigh of relief once Fiori put the lid back on the salve. So he was done being touched for now. “Yesterday morning I applied that, myself. As I’ve done every morning before I was attacked in the bath,” he muttered bitterly. “And I wouldn’t do anything to help you, anyway.” According to Leviticus’ command he was Fiori’s slave, and if Leviticus had heard him say he wouldn’t serve Fiori, he might have been reprimanded. But with his brother’s absence he saw no hazard pushing the boundaries there.
"Yesterday morning, you did not have bruised ribs." Fi's eyes were soft as they landed on Johan's stomach, swaddled with bandages. He had to be hurting in so many places, and yet he still had the energy to be stubborn. It could've been impressive if it weren't so inconvenient. "And you could walk without getting dizzy. Things are different now. You need somebody to take care of you and I know you are smart enough to realize that allowing me to do it will be good for you, even if you do not like it."
“That’s true, I suppose, but my point was that I do care of myself. I’ve allowed you to do this much,” Johan said, following Fiori’s gaze down to his stomach. He only let Fiori do the bare minimum to keep him at a distance. Granted the bare minimum was only whatever help Johan didn’t have the energy to refuse, like when Fiori carried him back to the room last night. “Isn’t it funny how Leviticus said that I’m your slave, and you’re insisting on taking care of me? Is this how things are in Usige?”
Fi hummed and nodded, letting him get the last word in. Johan was right. Everything Fiori had done he'd been allowed to do. He didn't push Johan, not the way Leviticus wanted him to. Not the way Johannan seemed to expect him to. Was it really so strange that he wanted to take care of someone who was hurting? Or did they expect him to be a monster because of his homeland? "Sometimes it is, yes. This is the way I treated Leviticus, though he required less care than you. This is the way I would treat anyone who was mine. In Usige, we are not… cruel. We are taught to be responsible, to take care of our things. Is it not so here?"
It hurt to think that Leviticus wanted him harmed, his very brother. Although Johan supposed he did deserve it, and he might have expected Levi would want cold revenge for what happened to him in Usige. It was fair, but still hurt. He hadn’t expected Levi would be treated kindly in Usige. That was perhaps his most devastating miscalculation. “Yes, it’s the same here. The only difference is we don’t own people. I heard stories of the way your country treated slaves, particularly the regent. That’s why I sent Leviticus to you.”
"I am not my uncle," he said, all the answer he really needed to give. Johan of all people should understand living outside of a country's normal expectations if what Leviticus said about family bonds in Widonia was to be believed. If anything he knew about Widonia was to be believed. Johan was a fierce warrior, a man who wanted to achieve, to earn his way to the throne. He would've done well in Usige. "Most of my people are not, just as most of your people are not like you."
Johan shook his head faintly in agreement. “No, most of my people are not like me. Most of my people are like Leviticus. Soft, and clinging to tradition. Clinging to tradition—our tradition—won’t win a war.” His ambitions, for both himself and Widona, seemed so far away now. Johan barely had enough time to get comfortable on the throne before Leviticus returned like a hero, a friend close behind him. Even his brother was beginning to utilize the concept of using an opponent’s force against them, and ruthlessly taking advantage of their weaknesses.
"Tradition," he echoed softly. Widonia was so wrapped up in tradition. He had no idea how he'd manage to navigate. "Yes, that does tend to slow you down. You are very… slow. You do not change." He glanced back at Johan, at the scar. Widonians were famous for being static, so stuck in their ancient ways of fighting it was easy to mow them down. That had changed in the last few years. "Or… you did not. Until you came. Then things were different, the war was harder with you on the battlefield. More… cutting edge."
Johan couldn’t help a smile, albeit small, lift the corner of his lips. It was nice to hear his leadership made a notable impact in the war. “The men in my battalion were tired of getting their asses served to them on a platter after every battle, so they finally decided to listen to me.” Of course the men weren’t too keen on taking orders from a sixteen year old at first, but they learned quickly enough it would be in their best interests to do so.
Fiori laughed and nodded. "Yes, I suppose defeat is quite the motivator. Your leadership at the battle of Tulane was… breathtaking." He remembered his father's reaction, equal parts awe and resentment. That was when Fi had begun to look out for news of the spitfire prince. When he started paying attention. "You could be exceptional one day, a famous general, a famed leader. Once you grow out of your impatience… you will be truly great."
Johan seemed to brighten with each compliment regarding his leadership. He took a moment to remember the events at the Battle of Tulane before replying. “You’re right. I will be great.” And everyone else would eventually see it too. “As soon as I get out of… whatever mess I’m in now.” It hadn’t even been a full two days since he’d been dethroned. Surely he had supporters out there who were still loyal to him, even after news of his crime spread across the country.
So this was how to get to him. Flattery. Not something Fiori was used to, but… it wasn't so hard. Pick out the things he admired about Johan, tell him, watch him brighten until there were stars in his eyes. It felt a bit strange, sure, but there were so many strange things here already. One more couldn't hurt. "Yes. I do not doubt that you will grow, that you will change for the better. Your whole life is ahead of you, Johannan, and you are… so young."
Johan let the words sink in, raising his gaze up to the ceiling. For now at least, if he could pretend the one reassuring him wasn’t the very man he was fighting against, the situation felt sort of normal. Staring at the ceiling also gave him a moment to think. Next to Cora, was Fiori the only one who could calm him down from anger so quickly? “You’re just trying to flatter me. Aren’t you?” His eyes widened at the realization. But he wasn’t angry.
Fiori's eyes stayed on Johan as he thought, watching him. He really was young. It was the scar that made him seem older, or maybe the ambition. He wanted more now than Fi would want for his entire life. He looked away when Johan figured him out, not sure why he was surprised. "I would not say I was trying as much as I was succeeding, but… I suppose I was, yes." He glanced back at Johan again and then frowned, confused. "This does not upset you. Why?"
“I don’t mind flattery when it’s true.” Johan attempted a half-hearted chuckle. “And I should have expected it since you said you wanted me to relax earlier, so…” he trailed off. Burying the urge to lash out again, this time for being successfully manipulated, he shifted his body as much as he could away from Fiori. The most he managed was swiveling his head to the other side of the bed; any other movement felt like too much strain on his ribs.
Fiori laughed with him and didn't know why his chest gave a pang as Johan shifted away. They were talking, they were friendly, for now. He should just leave it be and stop fussing over the moods of an arrogant princeling. "You seemed to anticipate it well enough, though that may be because my words are clumsier than you are used to." Even in his own language, Fi was no great speaker. "And obviously it has not worked, because you are still upset."
“I’m not upset,” Johan murmured back. At least, the flattery itself wasn’t upsetting; he was more bothered by the fact that Fiori was starting to get to him. Despite the clumsiness in Fiori‘s words, he liked the reassurance and the reminder that he would be great someday. That he would be remembered. “I’d like to be alone now. For a little bit, if that’s even possible.”
Fi gave him a soft look, of course you aren't, and crouched down so he could tend the flames. The fire was doing fine, of course, but he needed something to do with his hands. Back home he would be sharpening a sword, finding a partner to spar with, but here…
One of the logs split with a loud pop. He drew his hands away. "I do not know if I can do that for you, Johannan. How can I know you will not act out?"
Johan pulled his legs into a loose curl, easy with his abdomen, and an arm draped across his stomach. “If you’re really worried about any violent tendencies of mine while you’re away, restrain me to the bed. Lock the door and stow away my knives. Hell, you can even post a guard.” He was only half joking. Considering the pain, all the desire in the world to escape wouldn’t be enough to actually succeed. “Aren’t you bored here, looking after me all day? I can’t imagine it’s very interesting.”
Fiori hummed softly, considering the joke advice. Guards wouldn't be possible, but if he took the knives and locked the door what harm could Johan really do? He was crippled for the time being, his body would collapse long before he escaped. "You are a very interesting person, Johannan, and you give me more than enough trouble to keep me occupied. But… perhaps some time alone would be good." He could use it to go back down to the kitchens, talk with Cora and try to clear his head. It might be nice. "If I asked you to make me a promise, would you keep it?"
“Hm. Depends on the promise. I’m not petty enough to break my word for no reason. What do you propose?” Johan turned his head back around to look at Fiori. The promises he kept were usually only the ones worthwhile to him. And if the promise Fiori wanted him to make ended with some time alone, it would be worthwhile. He wouldn’t be able to escape, or whittle, or do much at all, but being bored was better than bonding with Fiori.
It wasn't the answer Fiori wanted, but honesty here wasn't like honesty back home. It was conditional. Promises were breakable. Johan could be lying to him right now and he wouldn't be able to tell, but… Johan seemed cooperative and Fi ached for the familiarity Cora and her kitchens would give him. "I will leave you to your own devices for two hours and in return, you will behave and keep from making trouble for anyone except yourself."
Johan lifted his eyebrows in consideration, but it didn’t take long to land on his decision. That was all? He had almost expected a more complicated condition in order to earn his sliver of freedom. “Alright, then. You have my word. I won’t make trouble for anyone while you’re gone.” After making his promise, he turned his head back to the other side of the bed. “…Only out of curiosity, would you do if I didn’t keep my word?”
