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“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.
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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."
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“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."
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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?"
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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.
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“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?"
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“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."
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“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?"
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“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."
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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."
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Johan went very quiet at that, which likely meant he heard what Fiori had said, but he was too proud to admit that he was right. Johan thought he knew he was at least a better fit for the throne than Levi. He chewed on his inner cheek for a ways down the hallway. “I’ve considered it,” he finally spoke again. “And I’ve done the country good this far.” Mostly because as a prince regent he didn’t have full control over the entire kingdom. Even prince regents were still kept in check by advisors and an entire council.
"Yes, but… I know better than many what the powers of a regent are." His uncle had been ruling all his life, and he knew from the various complaints he'd gotten over the years just how restrictive they were. "They are not those of kingship, Johan. And while you may fit well in that position, it does not guarantee that you'll be fit for truly ruling the country. I do not doubt that you have done good, but I doubt you are the best fit. And I doubt you did the right thing with Leviticus."
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“Mnh,” Johan scrunched up his nose at that. “Leviticus deserved whatever he got.” He sneered around the bruises and scar on his face. “And I refuse to listen to you, an Usigen, about moral quandaries.” Even if Levi hadn’t returned at all, Johan knew that he would have had several more years before he became king. Levi would have to wait too, and maybe in that time Johan could plan, even manage to regain his footing within the palace. It would take a lot of work.
Fi sighed when Johan turned up his nose. They'd made so much progress. They were talking, they were… bonding, in so much as two enemy princes could bond, and now it was all ruined. He should've known not to poke at such a sore subject, especially when Johan was bound to bite back. And it did hurt, that bite. It stung more than it had any right to and he felt that same horrible pressure building behind his eyes. He wondered what Johan would do if he saw him cry. "And does my race exclude me from morality, Johan? Am I so savage to you?"
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Johan started to look sideways, but decided against it and refused to look straight at Fiori. “It doesn’t exclude you. Just a different kind of morality.” Before this moment Johan would have assumed Fiori understood his position. Obviously not. He brought up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, thought better of pressing on a bruise, and rubbed it instead. “And yes. Aren’t I to you?”
Fi noticed the way Johan wouldn't meet his eyes and did his best to keep from wincing. He really did wince when he got the answer to his question, eyes flickering away from the prince beside him though he still carried much of Johan's weight. "No." His voice was softer than normal. "No, I think you are very civilized. I think you are brilliant in many ways, Johan. Brilliant with sword and with strategy." There was a lilt to his voice, the remains of an Usigen accent he'd done his best to smooth out of his Widonian. It came out when he got upset, though he didn't know that yet.
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All traces of a scowl left Johan’s expression only to be replaced by confusion. He blinked a few times as if he had been physically hit. “You don’t think that,” he countered briskly. Not that he disagreed with Fiori’s words, just the intention. Surely this Usigen must be playing a trick by preying on his emotions like that. He must have used the same tactic on Leviticus, who was so emotionally susceptible to fall for it. Johan’s muscles tensed up again. “Why would you say that?”
Fiori gave him a frown, small and confused. He wouldn't lie. What use could that possibly be when Johan wouldn't even believe him now? He'd never be anything less than honest, he hoped Johan could see that someday. "I do. I think you a very admirable man, prince. Why wouldn't I think that? You're strong and brave, you suffer injury with grace, you fight with skill. These are all qualities I strive for, things I admire. Why shouldn't I look to you with that same admiration?"
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It made no sense to Johan why the prince of war could possibly admire him, his own enemy. Admittedly there were traits of Fiori’s that Johan admired: his dexterity with the sword, his even tone, and physical build. It just wouldn’t be right to openly think well of one’s enemy. “I know what you’re doing,” Johan pressed his lips together. “You’re trying to flatter me in order to gain my trust, aren’t you?”
"How could I flatter you into trusting me when you do not believe a single thing I say?" Fiori didn't understand why Johan wouldn't accept what he was saying. Sure, they were opposed, but they weren't enemies. He didn't hate Johan or his country and sure, he found some aspects of their culture distasteful and strange, but that didn't mean he couldn't accept Widonians as fellow people and it certainly didn't mean he couldn't see the positive traits they had. "I have admired you for many years, since we first crossed swords, and despite the flaws I can now find, I will continue to admire you for your strength and your skill."
