The Captive Prince (o/o) closed

Johan following Fiori across the room with his gaze. He took in another shallow breath before continuing, “I tried to convince her to move her office here in a room downstairs, but she refused. She seems pretty attached to the building specifically.” He glanced back up at the ceiling when Fiori opened the door. He recognized the servant from the hallways, while they didn’t know each other well personally.

The footman bowed his head in acknowledgment. “Of course, Vispodín. She will be right up.” He passed a curious glance past Fiori towards Johan laying down on the bed, and then he was turning on his heel to leave.

Johan softly snickered over to Fiori, absentmindedly fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. It was almost amusing seeing him so confused. “Calm down, it’s just a vague term of respect. If you don’t trust me, ask Leviticus. It’s just what you say when you don’t know a man’s name or title. Can’t go wrong with a simple Vispodín.”

A few minutes after the servant left, another hand’s knuckles rapped against the door. “Medical Practitioner requesting entrance.”

Johan sent a lopsided smile upwards, recognizing the odd greeting. It hadn’t changed since he met her last. “That’s Eirlys.”

“Thank you,” Eirlys offered Fiori a brief, warm smile in return, and stepped inside. Her gaze darted around the room for her patient. Seeing him on the bed, she returned her attention back to Fiori. “You must be Fiori. If you have any competence in medicine your assistance would be greatly appreciated.” She slipped the leather bag off of her shoulder, and set it down on the foot of the bed. Her eyes lingered on the collar for a moment before she continued. “The Prince Regent Leviticus told me only a little bit about the attack. I’ll need more information to start off with.”

Johan craned his neck to see her standing near the end of the bed. She looked different now. Older, and more burdened than she had during the tour. Eirlys was now in her early thirties, and to show for the stress of her field she had gray strands among the rest of her dark hair—pinned back in a modest bun—and soft creases in her face.

Eirlys hummed in acknowledgement, deciding to give Johan a once over before she made any clarification. She sat down on the edge of the bed beside Johan, and leaned over him to look closer at the bruises on his face. Shaking her head like a disappointed mother, she spoke to him. “I’m surprised no one has sent for me to look at your wounds from petty fist fights before now. The bruises on your face will be fine and fade on their own—if you give them a chance to. Don’t be getting yourself into any more fights.” She turned to Fiori once again, who she assumed would give more objective answers as Johan’s caretaker than Johan himself would. “Where is he hurt the worst?”

Johan nodded faintly in allowance. Now that Eirlys was here he seemed more open to letting someone see his torso.

Eirlys listened to Fiori’s every word as she gently pushed Johan’s shirt up. “Shortness of breath and coughing is common with bruised and broken ribs. I can’t be certain which yet. I worry that if his ribs are broken they could damage the lungs even more than they might be already. When you pulled him out did he vomit water?” She brushed her hand against the wrappings. “And I will have to take this off to fully examine him. Prop him upright with some pillows against the headboard,” she gestured.

Johan groaned at the movement as he was set upright, and as he had to arch his back slightly while Eirlys unwrapped the bandages. He shut his eyes tight in a futile attempt to try and block out the pain.

Eirlys studied the gnarly bruises painted on Johan’s torso with a focused frown. “In this case I will have to agree with you.” With the wrappings set aside, she delicately pressed against his ribs in search for any movement that might suggest a fracture—successfully earning several whimpers from Johan. “Unfortunately I can’t do anything for bruised ribs except give my medical advice: keep him upright while he sleeps in order to avoid a chest infection, and if he starts to cough have him hug a pillow to his chest. For the swelling today give him ice, and tomorrow onwards have him soak in a warm tub with salts to help with the pain. It would also be best for him to sit most of the day, except for intermittent walks to keep his chest clear.” She easily recited the instructions as she had many times to her patients who liked to spar or happened to accidentally find themselves in fights. Nord Widona was in general a peaceful country, but not every citizen could be perfectly dosile.

Johan instinctively squeezed Fiori’s hands when Eirlys pressed much too painfully on his bruises. He clenched his jaw, and the relaxed as she pulled away again. He tentatively opened his eyes again and stared blankly upwards.

Eirlys nodded, “I don’t doubt that. Johannan has fought me before whenever I try to treat him. I’ll send you a paper copy of my instructions,” she promised, reaching over to her bag and rummaged through it. “And I would not have his ribs wrapped, especially since he should stay still for most of the day. Wrapping his ribs will restrict him from taking a deep breath.” She handed him a small glass bottle closed with a cork. “This lavender oil should help him relax, and you should have some peppermint tea on hand for his airways.”

"Bruised ribs usually heal on their own in around three to five weeks" Eirlys replied. "He should get up to take a short walk twice a day. And even after that time he shouldn't go immediately back to sparring or picking fights." She pulled Johan's shirt back down round his torso and stood up from the bed. "If you have any questions after I leave you can either write me a letter or send for me if you think it's serious, Especially if he shows signs of infection. In his airway or otherwise." She swung the bag over her shoulder. "I bid you good luck with trying to keep him sedentary. He's refused my explicit advice many times before. Is there anything else you need from me right now?"

Johan settled his hands in his lap again after his shirt was fastened down again. "I had a job to do, Eirlys," he muttered. "I was still on a tour. Talking was kind of essential while I was in charge of a group of soldiers."

“Yes, I can do that. I’ll send you a letter containing the information within a day or so.” Eirlys followed him over to the door, and laughed softly at Fiori’s lighthearted comments. She stopped in the middle on the doorway and turned in her heel to face him. “At this point he will see right through everything I’ve done to keep him sedentary before. I’m afraid you’re going to have to make do.”

Johan crosses his feet at the ankles, watching the two of them from across the room. His lip curled in annoyance; he knew they were talking about him, likely patronizing him, but at this point he didn’t have much energy to think up a fiery retort.

Johan looked back at Fiori with sunken eyes. “I have no reason not to. I want to get back on my feet as soon as I am able.” The only difference, he wanted to treat himself rather than let Fiori be his caretaker. Before this morning he could take care of his minor injuries just fine, and rub salve into his scar whenever it started to ache. He crossed his arms loosely around his stomach. “Like she said, I’ll be preparing hot baths for myself and putting ice on my chest.”

Johan sneered right back at Fiori’s contradiction, although it was watered down from the ache in his jaw. “Oh, I will certainly not be napping. I live to do things in life and not sleep my days away. If I have to stay in bed for most of the day I will still be keeping busy, and taking care of myself,” he repeated. “If you weren’t here I would be perfectly fine recovering on my own.”

“Froláem,” Johan spat out a curse. “Just leave me alone! I know this is supposed to be a punishment, but exile would have been a thousand times better than you breathing down my neck.” He clenched his hands into fists, gathering bunches of his shirt. Every once in a while Fiori seemed to be alright, but then they got in yet another fight. “You’re coddling me.”

Johan’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but it didn’t last for long until suspicion flashed across his expression instead. He wrinkled his nose, and curled in his legs slightly closer to his body. “If you really want to help…” he considered a request, mulled it around in his mind before he spoke again. “Would you humor me with a request of my own if I let you coddle me for a few days?”

“Let me have access to a knife and some wooden cubes,” he arched his brow, curious to see Fiori’s reaction to him requesting a knife. A potentially deadly weapon. But as of now he just desired a pastime. “The only way I am going to stay sane sitting for hours at a time is to do some whittling.” He’d picked up the hobby near the end of his tour after Eirlys forbade him from anything he had to move his face for.

Johan’s expression pulled into a heavy frown. He rolled his eyes, “Please. I doubt any other pastime is going to keep my interest for such a long time.” He knew he had skill at whittling, and he wasn’t interested in learning anything else. Learning required failure, and he’d had enough of that already. Even in these few short days, he missed the hilt of a sword or the handle of his favorite knife in his hand. “Nonetheless, what other pastime do you suggest?”