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The Captive Prince (o/o) closed

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“I already told you I visited her a lot when I was young, and she raised me in my first mother’s absence. There’s not much to say other than that.” He furrowed his brow, lips pursed indignantly. It wasn’t exactly true: there was some more to the story, like how he found himself in the kitchens in the first place. The last person he wanted to discuss that with was Fiori, especially when he was much more interesting in talking about the collar in Fiori’s lap. “Is Leviticus gifting you one of his dogs?”

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Fi raised an eyebrow but didn't push, he just watched Johan shuffle his focus around and around until it was narrowed in on the collar in his hands. He tightened fist around it, pulling it in closer to his chest. Johan wasn't wrong, exactly. Levi saw his brother as no more than a dog, a dog he would pass over to Fiori to take care of. "Not exactly." His gaze caught Johan's, soft and sad and so very tired. He had no right to look like that, not when he was about to slap it around Johan's neck. "It is for you, prince."

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Johan turned his gaze over to Fiori with a frown. He at least didn’t look as angry as before, just unimpressed and a tad uncomfortable. After discussing it with Cora earlier he at least had a chance to plan what he would say; he expected this. “I’m not surprised,” he muttered dryly. “It might be for me, but I’m not putting it on. I don’t want it.”

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Fi managed to straighten up when Johan's eyes failed to light with fire and fury. He could deal with this practiced apathy, could deal with just about anything except fear or fury. Not that he could really imagine what Johan would look like afraid. "Yes, I… I suppose you would not be but I have to make you wear it, Johannan. It is your brother's wish and I have no room to deny him."

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“Yes, but consider this.” He gripped the edge of the table to pull himself so he sat up right in his chair. “You promised me you would give me anything I desired, and I desire to not wear that.” He gestured loosely to the collar. “Didn’t you give an oath to one of your gods? I would think an oath to your god should be revered much more than a… trivial idea from a man who isn’t even your king. Who isn’t anybody’s king.” There was that flicker of fire in his tone, and there in his curling lip. Although he seemed to be at ease with himself, fully expecting to have won the argument there.

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"I said I would give you as much as I could, Johannan." He hated to extinguish the fire in Johan's eyes but he didn't want him peacocking around thinking that he'd won the argument. His hands were tight around the collar. "I specified I would give what it was within reason for me to give and I have to do this. Leviticus may not be my king but he is the reason I am here and beyond that, he is my friend." There was something so easy about sparring with Johan, even his guilt drifted away when he saw that arrogant curl to his lip, the way he straightened proudly. Peackocing already. His suspicions were right. "I will do as he asks not because he order, but because what is important to him is important to me."

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Johan’s lip was still curled even as the corner of it twitched. Fi’s argument got through to him to some degree, enough for him refrain from mentioning the promise again. “We all have choices, Fiori. Unless Leviticus is twisting your hand with the threat of execution—which I doubt he is— you have the choice to not obey his every command like a dog doing tricks!” Johan didn’t think through his words as much as Leviticus did. He didn’t have a concise and consistent argument, just shot out insults, even the most outrageous, to try and tear his opponents apart. Not unlike how he fought on the battlefield. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you’re his pet. You’re just his vessel to get through to me so he doesn’t have to suffer the messy consequences!”

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Fi bit his lip and he knew Johan was grasping at whatever he could get ahold of but that didn't mean he wasn't right. The only problem was that Fiori was fine with it. He'd been a tool for people his whole life, for his father and his uncle and anyone else he'd respected, why should Levi be any different? Submission was how you showed your love. Doing what people said when they said because they said, that was how you showed them you were loyal. How you proved you were good. "Perhaps, but even if I am a vessel or a dog I am one properly utilized. Leviticus is a man I have great affection for, a man I trust." His head tilted to the side, questioning and puppyish. Naive almost. "Why shouldn't I trust him to use me?"

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“What?” Johan immediately stopped, expression contorting into pure confusion. The conversation had turning he was not expecting, and he wasn’t used to this. “He doesn’t really respect you, I doubt he even has the affection for you that you have for him. But—but you said that you have respect for me, and a collar is not respect. What’s next, a leash?”

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"He respects me enough." Fi turned the collar over in his hands again, again, again, getting a feel for the soft leather. The sharpness of the metal buckle. "He has enough affection, and enough is all I have ever asked for. And I do respect you, but between the two of you…" He sighed. "There is no contest. Leviticus keeps me safe here, afloat and provided for. You are a great man in many ways—a fighter, a strategist, a survivor— but you hate me. As much as it pains me to collar you, I must."

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“No, no you don’t have to, you mustn’t,” Johan insisted with a hint of desperation in his voice now. He pushed his chair back, and using leverage from the table to stand up. “Even if you managed to put it on me, don’t you think I would be able to unfasten it by myself? Unlike an actual dog, I have hands. There’s no point in putting it on me in the first place if I can simply take it off while your back is turned.”

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Fi winced and the collar flipped faster and faster in his hands. He should've taken this out into the hall so Johan could keep just one place free of the burden that would weigh him down for years to come. "I have to, Johannan." He had to work to keep his tone from straining. "I am sorry, but I have to. The point… the point is not to restrain you, you know that. And you know what I will have to do if you take it off."

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Johan gripped the back of the chair, digging his nails into the wood as much as he could stand. “Enlighten me,” he hissed. He had a good idea of what Fiori meant, but he was only confused all the more. He was pretty certain getting lashed was going to hurt, and seemed to contradict what Fiori had said to him up until this point.

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Fi looked at Johan and the thought of hitting him—of hurting him— made him sick to his stomach. Levi wouldn't have mercy on Johan, he couldn't force himself to, and this early in the proces it would be Fi who had to do the whipping. Fi who would have to tear Johan up all over again. He could taste bile in the back of his throat already, acid sharp. "No!" He slammed his hands down on the table. "No, no, I will not, you will be good and then this willl all be over. Why is that so hard to understand?" His voice dropped to something lower, something more ragged. "Why do you want me to hurt you?"

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Johan flinched, but otherwise seemed unfazed. “I don’t want you to hurt me! I just don’t want to wear the collar in the first place because it’s a symbol of worthlessness. Why is that so hard to understand?” He clenched and unclenched his finger around the back of the chair. If he felt well enough to put up a physical fight he might have thrust the chair towards Fiori and walked out of the room. As of now he didn’t feel well enough to even lightly jog on his own.

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"Because this is a punishment, Johannan." His grip was too tight around the collar. The clasp was biting into his skin. "It is not supposed to be some fun vacation, it is supposed to put you in your place. You think I like this? You think this is fun for me? No! I do this because I have to, because Leviticus has told me what is to be done and I will do it." He sighed, eyes flickering towards Johan and then away as he seemed to deflate. "We all make choices, prince. Yours led to you being collared, mine have led to me holding the leash."

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“Even in that case, you will have to make me,” Johan snarled right back. “No matter the choices I have made, I will never submit to you or my brother.” He inched away from the chair, and his hands fell to his sides. He stayed upright, delicate looking despite his red and gnarled expression. It was almost as if in those small steps backwards, he was trying to escape. Slowly, taking his time in the slim hope that Fiori might not realize what he was doing. Johan was terrified.

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Fi let out a long sigh and shoved himself to his feet, hooking his hand around the back of Johan's neck to pull him in. "Then you will." It could've been a growl or a treat, but it came out more like a weary promise. He wished the prince would just cooperate, but deep down he'd known he'd have to force Johan. It wouldn't be much of a punishment if it didn't do anything. "You cannot escape this, Johannan. You cannot escape the consequences of what you did. Accept this before he makes you accept something worse."

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Johan stumbled forward as he was pulled closer. He breathed heavily through his nose, forcing himself to keep looking up at Fiori. There weren’t many people, at least of those Johan knew, who were taller than he was. “You underestimate me. I will get out of this, if not now then later. What possibly could be worse than this?” His voice strained now, and it would have croaked has he let it. “I’ve already lost everything to my name.”

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Fi didn't tower over Johan the way he did other people, but he was still a full head taller than the prince and he was grateful for every inch. He squared his shoulders under Johan's gaze, straightened taller and taller until even though he wasn't any taller he looked it. He was intimidating like this, hand tight around Johan, pulling him around in a way he'd never wanted to do. He forced himself to loosen his fingers, to hold Johan gently, the way he deserved. "So many things could be worse, Johan. You will get out of this. You will survive, that's more than you could've been guaranteed. Please play along, just for now. So nobody has to hurt you."

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Johan swallowed uncomfortably under Fiori’s taller stature, and his shoulders sank. “Play along,” he echoed flatly. His gaze drifted sideways thoughtfully. It did seem like a good idea, as strange as it sounded at first. He could play along for now until he was able to slip out of the palace completely. Johan snapped his gaze back to Fiori again, his lips pursed indignantly as if he were still refusing. “Alright,” he finally relented. “But all I’m doing is playing along.”

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Fi relaxed, letting go of Johan with palpable relief. For someone who wanted to be king someday, he showed his emotions very openly. They all flickered through his eyes, one after another until things clicked and clicked and he answered. "I know." His own eyes were soft and worried and he drew Johan in close, tucking his arm beneath the prince's to help support him. "That is all I ask of you, that you play along until you can be free."

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Johan grimaced. Although it was the last thing he wanted to do, he had no other choice but to lean against Fiori for support. His torso already so weak from the light movement of earlier. He stared down at the floor. “And I suppose Leviticus conveniently forgot to mention when he will let me free?” He scoffed. “If it were up to him I would be wearing that collar until the day I die.”

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Fi didn't touch him any more than he had to, quickly leading Johan over to his bedroom. The walk was too fast and too quiet and Fi set Johan down like he was burning him as soon as he could, gingerly placing him on the bed before he left for the bathroom. He splashed his face with water a few times, calming himself, and once he'd managed to put himself together again he was back. "Can I put it on you?"

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Johan shifted more comfortably onto the bed while he waited for Fiori to return from the bathroom. Every inhale felt like a knife to his chest, so he tried to even his breathing in hopes that it would hurt less. Somehow it seemed to be worse than it had been at the kitchens. He raised his gaze up to Fiori, expression notably pained. “Gh, fine. Sure. I’m playing along,” he grit his teeth.

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Fi paused when he caught sight of Johan's face. Pained, so very pained—it must be his ribs. Was it all the walking that had disturbed them? Or had the last dregs of shock finally slipped away? "Take shallow breaths, the physician should be here soon. And… lie down." He eased his hands around Johan's shoulders, tipping him back onto the bed. Getting him straightened out would be good, lying flat gave you the most room to breathe. "Perhaps we can wait with the collar."

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Johan groaned lowly at the movement, relaxing as he settled down against the pillows again. “Good,” he breathed. “The closest physician, her name is Eirlys. She is likely the one they sent for.” He at least hoped she was the physician on the way. He knew her, not well, but she had tended to him before; she was the one who stitched his cheek back together after he returned from his tour—and insisted that he allow himself time to completely heal. He also seemed to brighten Fiori’s suggestion to wait in the collar. “Yes, yes. We can wait.”

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Fiori nodded, managing to calm down a bit as he watched Johan relax. "Is she good?" He knew Levi wasn't petty enough to hire a shitty physician just to spite his brother, but it was good to be worried just in case. Vigilance helped you stay afloat in places like these. He laughed a bit when he saw Johan brighten, placing the collar over on the foot of the bed with a firm nod. None of that, not when there was nobody to see it. "The physician, why does she not live at the palace? Would that not be more convenient?"

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“She’s good enough,” Johan replied, clasping his hands over his stomach. Talking seemed to help distract him from his pain, so he rambled to the ceiling. “Not as good as the last physician, Piaras. Her father. But she stitched my face back together quite nicely.” Piaras, Johan’s childhood physician, died shortly after sending Eirlys as the attending physician for the prince’s battalion. And when they returned from the tour, she took authority over her father’s office. “It would be convenient for me if she lived in one of our empty rooms, yes, but she treats citizens who live outside of the castle too.” He glanced over at the door when a soft knock interrupted him.

“Vispodín,” a servant called through the door to Fiori, a general term of respect that would have preceded his surname if the footman would have known it. “The physician is here to treat the Pri— Johannan.” Clearly it would take some getting used to for the palace staff to refrain from addressing him as Prince.

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Fi hummed softly, glancing back at the scar cutting across Johan's cheek. "She did," he agreed quietly. "I have to say, I was surprised when I first saw you. It healed so well." Fi had seen a lot of scars in hid life and the facial ones never ended up pretty. Most people ended up with their eyes drooping or lips pulled up in an eternal half-smile because of how the skin tightened as it healed. "It is very good of her to share her talent with the people, though I assume her care is not without… oh." He turned to the door, glancing between it and Johan. "Keep talking, please."

He walked over, giving the servant a polite smile. "Yes, Leviticus told me she would be in." He didn't comment on the footman's slipup. "Could you send her up?"