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Johan wearily protested, but was too exhausted to do much more than try and push Fiori away. His eyes were wide, still scared out of his wits. But at least he wasn’t drowning. “Wait—no, put, put me down.”
Levi frowned at Johan’s state. It was strange seeing him so weak, so helpless for a man who was supposed to be a war hero. “Alright. That makes sense. Just make sure his hair gets cut.”
Fi grimaced at the water dripping all over his clothes but beyond that, he didn't react much to Johan at all. He'd had admiration for him, sure, but it was clear that his virtues on the battlefield were very different from the virtues of his character. "Should that be a public ceremony? This is not something commonly done, it can be… effective to bring him low before a crowd."
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“Ialdir help me. That’s… true,” Levi breathed, drawing his hand through his hair, and then down the side of his face. “I never wanted this…I didn’t want any of this to be public. Not at first. But it seems people already know. They’ll want an explanation, I assume. And what you’re saying makes sense.” He’d meant to have at least a couple days of deciding what to do with his betrayer. Things were supposed to be on the down low until he could regain his footing. “I’ll organize a ceremony for a couple days from now. In that amount of time, I can talk to the council.”
"I see. You told the guard it would happen tonight." He paused, unsure of his next question. He knew Levi had enough pressure on him as it was and he didn't intend to add to that burden, but he wanted to make sure his friend was prepared. This was no small thing he was doing. He needed to be prepared, and even Fiori knew how quickly rumors could spread in a castle. Levi couldn't afford to not keep his word, not when he was so newly returned to the castle. "Is that something you intend to stand by?"
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“Right, right, I forgot.” He took in a sharp breath, tugging loosely at his own messy hair. “There’s no way I can organize an entire ceremony like that tonight.” His words were rushed and flustered. “I-I’ll have his hair cut—tonight, like I said— in front of the guards. And then present him and his fate to the rest of the public during a ceremony in a couple days. How’s that?”
“How ‘bout that doesn’t happen at all…” Johan groaned.
Fiori shifted Johan over into the crook of his arm and reached out to lay a hand on Levi's shoulder. "It's okay, Leviticus. You're smart. You can handle this." He jostled Johan lightly to quiet him. "I say you have a formal ceremony tonight—hair cutting, assigning him a master, all the things that don't matter much—and then get the logistics done in the following days."
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“Thank you, Fiori,” Levi offered him a small, yet grateful smile. “I’ll see what I can pull together tonight, and talk to Mordecai about it too. I might have to assign a second royal advisor.” Fiori would be an invaluable advisor, knowing much more about the current regent of Usige and war than Levi had experience with.
Johan continued to uselessly struggle against Fiori. “I’m still,” he he hissed through his teeth, “regent.”
Fiori smiled back, giving him a solid pat on the back. No matter how worried or troubled he was, he would always do his best to pull together for his friends. Helping Leviticus made him feel better somehow, less worried about how things would fall into place. "Do not worry about it, my friend. I think assigning another advisor would be wise in this troubling time. And as for you…" he shook Johan harder, "… you are only regent because the heir was gone, now he is back, and you are done."
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Levi nodded. “I think so too. Two perspectives will always be better than one.” He looked over Johan with another frown. There was no way Johan was regent now, nor would he ever be again. Even if something happened to Levi. “Anyway. I’ll leave you to take care of him.”
Johan grimaced and groaned at the shake. Earlier hadn’t been consciously aware of the forming bruises on his body. Now he was quite attentive to the places where the guards had thrown punches.
"Many thanks, Leviticus." He got Johan settled more firmly in his arms. He knew Johan had done a terrible thing—maybe a few terrible things, but he didn't want to hurt him. He'd never liked harming people needlessly, even in punishment. "Now… I will dress him simply, yes? Take his hair down from the braids, make him look… average. And I will meet you in the ballroom at 7. Does that give you enough time to organize things?"
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Levi nodded in consideration. “Yes, only simply. And seven should be enough time, I’ll meet you then.” He began slowly backing away towards the door. “Find Mordecai if you need anything.”
Johan didn’t like it, but he had no choice but to lean against Fiori to stay upright. “Leviticus. Don’t leave…” he pleaded.
Levi knew he wouldn't seek Mordecai out. He couldn't, not when he remembered all too well the sandpaper in his tone, the acid in his eyes. There was so much to deal with already as he herded Johan over to his old rooms, so many things on his mind without adding in the dislike of the person closest to Levi. "Be quiet," he said, not unkindly.
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Levi did doubt that Fiori would take him up on the offer of asking Mordecai for help. But if for nothing else the offer was a hospitable pleasantry in case Fiori did feel the need to search someone out. He cast the two of them a final glance before he disappeared down another hallway.
Johan squinted at the entrance of his old rooms with as much confusion as he felt defiance. “I’ll never take orders from you,” he spat, shivering from the cold that pricked his bare skin.
Fi gave him a weak wave goodbye and then he was shoving Johan into his rooms and closing the doors behind him. He barely acknowledged the prince's words, crossing over to what looked like an armoire and grabbing the plainest clothes he could find: simple black breeches and a white shirt. He crossed over to the bathroom and grabbed a towel, and then he was back to Johan, pulling him forward so he could dry him off. "That's fine."
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Johan fell into morbid silence, his lips curled into a taut frown. His eyes followed Fiori around the room. To his armoire, and then the bathroom. At the very least he would be dressed in his own clothing. Although these circumstances were still no less humiliating. He winced as he was pulled forward again. “Ah- ow… Careful,” he groaned, but doubted this Usigen would really care if he was hurt.
"I am sorry." He was quick as he dried Johan, efficent. He didn't linger except to tut at a few of the darker bruises. The prince's stomach was a pallet of dark purple-blue, so obviously painful he didn't do much more than dab at it with the towels and move on. "I didn't mean to hurt you, you're just… very hurt." Bruises on his wrists too, and a dark handprint around his throat. He towelled off Johan's hair with as much efficiency as he could manage while they were still up in braids. "Do you have a brush?"
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Johan closed his eyes tightly to weather the pain that came with being dried, even if it was done as gingerly as possible. He stifled a whine that threatened to escape his throat. Fiori’s words confused him. Why wouldn’t a man, the prince, from Usige want to hurt the prince of his warring country? It just didn’t make sense to him. He vaguely jutted his chin towards his bedside table, wincing when the movement hurt. “On that table.” He iterated in a strained breath.
Fiori set a hand on the back of his neck, towing him over to the bed and then pushing down gently to get him to sit. He didn't like seeing Johan like this. He was the sort who was supposed to be proud and arrogant and sharply beautiful, but right now he just looked defeated. "Try to stay still," he murmured, crossing over to the table to grab the brush. "You'll hurt yourself." He settled behind Johan, pulled out the braids carefully and got the hair detangled without so much as yanking a knot. "This is… the last day you'll have this, Johan. May I brush it?"
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Johan reluctantly let himself be led over to his bed. If what he said was true this was the last day anything would be his. As much as he willed himself to keep him composure, his jaw still quivered painfully. He glared daggers at the floor underneath his feet. “Fine,” he muttered under his breath. The last time his hair would be tended to, but it was as good as gone know. He wished to Ialdir that he could do something about this. As soon as he could walk without assistance he would do something.
Fi reached forward to brush the corner of Johan's jaw, wishing he wouldn't be so tense all the time. He probably got muscle aches a lot. Fi would have to deal with those. "Calm down. You're not going to help yourself if you can't even think straight." He brushed through it slowly at first, working the tangles out of it at first and then just enjoying the routine of it. He'd done this for Levi, for his mother, and now for Johan. It was soothing. "Just breathe. There's nothing you can do now."
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Johan lightly flinched at the first touch, but he didn’t flinch away. Instead he closed his eyes. “You. Who I assume my brother wants to be my master. Expect me to be calm…” he interrupted himself a breath, “After being nearly drowned, and told that I will be worth no more than a peasant. Great.” There was no way he was going to allow himself to be owned by a foreigner. He had to think a way out of this. Yet it did feel nice, even a bit relieving to have his hair brushed and enjoy a moment of peace. Nevertheless he would never admit it.
"I don't expect you to be anything, Johan." His voice was as even as ever. He didn't pause in his brushing. "I'm telling you that you're smart. You're capable." He smoothed down Johan's hair, carefully plaiting it into a single braid. "You're scheming about how to get out of this, I can see it, but you're not going to get anywhere until you can calm yourself. You've been on the battlefield. You know how dangerous it is to rush through these decisions."
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Johan went quiet at Fiori’s words. Nothing he said alleviated Johan’s confusion. If nothing else, it enhanced it. He did make a point about being on the battlefield. Oftentimes the best tactic was to wait for the right moment. “Are you wanting me to get out of this?” He looked far off to the side as if his gaze could reach all the way behind himself. “If not, why are you so interested?”
Fi grabbed a hairband and wrapped it around the ends of the braids, smoothing them down against his back gently. He could tell Johan was confused by his treatment, but he didn't have the words to explain. Johan was a person. He deserved respect. "I do not want you to escape punishment, Johan. I simply… do not wish for you to hurt yourself. You're in pain, you're injured, you're… you're still a person. You're a person who's hurting and you'll tear yourself apart."
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“My brother is making me a slave.” He gingerly lowered his head once Fiori was finished with his hair. He said the word slave in the context of believing a slave was less than human. He’d sent Levi out of the kingdom to be a slave, which in Johan’s perspective, Levi deserved it. He curled his hands into fists in his lap, and his shoulders hunched dejectedly. ”But what do you know of humanity? Your country is full of demons.”
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."
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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."
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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."
