Johan let out a heavy sigh through his nose. In his mind Johan had a healthy dislike for the Usigens and all of its people. Fiori, however, was a strange case, and he disliked him for rather different reasons now than he disliked the country. “I’ll never understand you. Do you admire me enough to help me escape captivity? You obviously have enough leverage to sway Leviticus’ decisions.” He vaguely remembered the conversation Fiori and Levi had had in the baths. Still, Johan didn’t completely trust Fiori’s words, and he doubted he would agree to his suggestion.
"I admire you, yes, but that does not mean I like you." He could see the doors to what he assumed was the kitchen up ahead and wondered where he could set Johan while he gathered some food. "Leviticus is my friend and beyond that a better person than you, and while I do not like this punishment or my role in it, I will willingly accept it because he has done for me. But… I don't suppose you would understand something like that. You see things as very black and white, do you not?"
“I understand things as I’ve experienced in the past,” Johan replied, “And how I believe things are. For what it’s worth, I don’t like you either.” He fixed his gaze forward again, and seeing the kitchens he let out a breath of relief. Hopefully while he ate conversation wouldn’t he expected, and he could dine in peace. “We’re almost to the kitchens.”
Fiori laughed softly and it surprised him. He knew Johan didn't like him and he knew that should've made him feel even worse but… gods damn it, Johan just seemed to take offence to him as a person instead of as an Usigen and it was comforting. It was comforting to know he could make an impact. "Good. Then we can continue this later, for now… let's get you some food, yes? What can I get you?"
Yes, let’s.” He had no intention of initiating the rest of the conversation later. “The cooks know what I like,” he answered as they approached the doors. “To them I’m still the highest prince. I doubt they’ve heard any rumors. Not yet at least.“ For lunch in the warmer months Johan usually had some sort of meat-and-okra soup and red wine jelly. He had it every day, and expected the cooks wouldn’t conveniently forget today of all days.
"Then I will ask them to make it for you after we get you settled." There seemed to be a sitting area off to the left, probably for the scullery maids when they took their meals. It stood empty now, and Fi set Johan down on one of the chairs as best he could. He left not long after. The cook was a pretty Usigen woman, big and pretty, and he was so delighted to meet someone who spoke his language, who understood, that he ended up talking with her for at least 20 minutes.
Johan impatiently bounced his knee under the table while he waited. If he had felt better he might have gotten up to see what was taking Fiori so long to get his meal. Instead he cuties his hands in his hair, inadvertently tugging some strands out of the braid Fiori had put his hair into. A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over him, and his eyes fell closed. Without distractions his thoughts trailed towards the ceremony that would occur later tonight. Soon he might not have any hair to hurt his hands into, depending how short Levi would have it cut.
When he came back there was a smile on his face, bright with relief and pleasure. He smelled like spices. There was soup in his hands. The cook, Cora, had insisted he help make the soup. She seemed to get Fiori's discomfort here– hell, she'd probably gone through it herself– and he was too weak not to stay for a while longer, reminiscing. She was sweet. She called him honey and let him make himself fried bread while they worked. "I am sorry for my tardiness, prince. I have your food here."
Johan opened his eyes when he heard Fiori return. He lifted his head from the table, “Ah, I can see that—“ he might have said thank you, but he interrupted himself. “—Did you see Cora?” Not that he cared if Fiori had a pleasant time talking to someone familiar or not. He knew Cora, and had seen her in the kitchens ever since he could remember. As a middle child whose parents were more focused on the rambunctious toddler, Johan had enjoyed visiting her when he was Mikhail’s age. He didn’t visit as often anymore. He still liked her, though he wouldn’t openly admit it, and it was often easy for him to forget she was Usigen.
Fi approached him with concern in his eyes, worried about why he'd collapsed. "I did, she's a lovely woman." He set the soup down and then, slowly enough that Johan could push him away, tilted his head up to look him in the eyes. They didn't seem overly glassy and his pupils weren't dilated, but still. He was warm. Serious injuries could cause fevers if left untreated, and Johan was pushing himself far more than he should. "Are you alright? You look tired."
Johan tossed his chin to the side and picked up his spoon. “Of course I’m tired. It’s been a long day.” He stared forward at the wall as he began to eat. His utensil wavered slightly in his hand, only to be steadied when he took a bite. “Other than that I’m fine. I just need rest.” Other than the whole ceremony and his hair being cut, he was rather looking forward to the end of the day. Would he even be able to sleep in his own bed?
Fi let go of him but his eyes never strayed from Johan. He took in every shake and hesitation with a small frown, cataloging them in his head. Would Levi let him call a physician for his brother? Or would he just have to wait things out while Johan slowly deteriorated? "I see. After the ceremony, we will have to decide what to do with your rooms. I cannot let you stay there."
“What?” Johan lowered his spoon back into the bowl. “Those are my rooms.” he swiveled his head to stare back at Fiori. “I’m staying in my rooms,” he insisted. He couldn’t let him change anything about his rooms, no matter if Fiori would be considered his “master.” How dare he have a right to his possessions?
The last thing Fiori wanted to do was pick a fight, but this was important. "They were, but… I cannot have you there. The rooms are full of knives Johan, surely you understand why I cannot allow you to share them with me." Normally he would've set himself up on a couch and let Johan take the bed, but he really couldn't do that when Johan had a million murder weapons to choose from hanging right in his face.
Johan had no problem picking a fight, especially when it regarded his entitlements. He would fight with Leviticus about the ceremony all night if he had the chance. “Yes. My knives. The ones that I own and am quite proud of. If you’re so scared of them you can sleep somewhere else.” He picked up his spoon and started eating again, with a lot more agitation than was present before.
Fiori shook his head. "No. I know you're smart. You are… a plotter, when it serves you, so I know you understand this plot of Leviticus'. They will not be yours after today, because nothing will be yours." He wanted to reach over and set his hands on top of Johan's and hold him still for a little while. Let him calm down. Johan always seemed so keyed up. Fi would like to help, though he felt bad for it. "Nothing but what I give you, and I cannot give you knives, no matter how much you would like them."
“If Leviticus is plotting to give everything what is mine to you then I will plot as well to get it all back. My freedom and rooms included. But they are still mine as of now and I can use them as I wish,” he hissed, slamming his hand down on the table. The strain in his words sent him into a brief coughing fit, and he closed his hand around the empty space on the table where a napkin might have been during a normal dinner.
FI was up on his feet in an instant, rushing to Johan's side. Coughing probably hurt, what with the state of his ribs. Fiori didn't want him to hurt. He set a hand on Johan's chest, one on his back, steadying him while he shook. "I know." His voice was soft. Sympathetic, though he knew it would only make Johan push him away. "You do not have to scheme with me, I would give you whatever you wanted. Anything you need, Johan. All you have to do is ask."
Johan allowed it while he coughed, mostly because the pain outweighed his pride for a few moments. He groaned after sputtering for the final time, catching his breath and weakly pushing Fiori’s hands away. His gaze lowered towards the rest of his soup. He was hungry, but he wasn’t sure if he felt like eating the rest. “And what’s the catch?” He rasped. “What would make you my master, then, other than the title?”
Fi barely moved, just shifted enough that he could hold Johan in the crook of his arm and keep him from jostling himself too much. He should've wrapped Johan's ribs. He should've carried him. He was so tired of seeing broken things all the time: Cadmus and his kingdom and all the fractured twisted ways he couldn't fit in here. All he wanted was to fix something. Just one tiny thing, to keep his world from fragmenting apart. "I would be responsible for you." He pressed the soup spoon back into Johan's hands, urging him to start eating again. "I would keep you healthy, safe. Taken care of."
Johan eventually relented and brought another spoonful of soup into his mouth, and then a few more bites after. In the silence he mulled over Fiori’s words with a pensive, rigid expression. The arrangement he described didn’t sound cruel, but it still didn’t sit well with him. “In other words…” he finally said, “I would be a pet.” A well cared for pet, not unlike Leviticus’ Boris and Alexei, but a pet nonetheless. “No way.”
Pet. That was what people called the slaves back home sometimes, when they didn't want to really address it. It never sat well with him. "No. I… I would not do that to you." Johan would be his, that was the thing. Slavery meant ownership, and there was no way to get around that no matter how badly he wanted to. "I would not do that to anyone. But… it would be like that. There is no other way for me to be good to you, and for that I am sorry."
“Of course.” Johan let out another sigh through his nose. So Johan was right about it, and Fiori admitted it, though he was reluctant about all of this. Leviticus was behind it, so he resolved to blame him. There was nothing more humiliating than for his social worth to be that of a dog’s. He scraped the bottom of the bowl for the last few bites of soup. “Leviticus is more sly than you think. He is not my opposite, he rather hides it better than I do.”
"I know what Leviticus is and is not, thank you." Fiori gave him a soft frown. "He's my friend. And he is only doing what he can to deal with you, gods know it's difficult." He pushed the bowl away when Johan finished, slinging the prince's arm across his shoulder so they could begin the walk to the ballroom. "Can you honestly say that this isn't a punishment fitting the crime?"
Johan managed to stand up with Fiori’s help and a few ragged breaths. “I’ll admit that much. But the only thing I’m sorry about is that my original plans fell through.” He set his jaw again to weather the exertion walking took. “Are we going back to my rooms?” He assumed, having not known what time it was.
Levi, clothed in a traditional Widonian coat with silver embroidering and für cuffs, and black gloves, glanced nervously up at the clock in the ballroom, and then the room entrance. It was nearly seven, and everything was in order. Almost. The chair where Johan would sit, the table beside it bearing a golden cup and shears, and the prince regent’s crown on another table off to the side. A religious official was scheduled to arrive closer to seven, who could crown Leviticus as the regent. That ceremony would take place after Johan was stripped of his own rank and given officially to Fiori.
Fiori took one look at Johan and decided he was going to convince him to carry him to the ballroom, stubborn or not. "We can work on that later, but… for now… I think your physical condition is more important." If he couldn't even stand without clenching his jaw so hard it seemed about to snap, how in the world could he expect to walk without collapsing? "We will be making our way to the ballroom, and I do not think you weak by any measure but… I am uncertain of your ability to make the trek. You are hurting even now."
“The ballroom?” Johan blinked. It couldn’t be seven already, could it be? “If— If you’re implying that we don’t walk as far as the ballroom because of my physical condition then I agree. But if you intend to carry me like a child again, absolutely not. I’m perfectly fine.”
Levi endlessly twirled the silver ring around his finger, watching a handful of nobles filter into the room. He hadn’t specified what kind of ceremony this evening would be, nor did he specify that he was the one who was hosting it. Not everyone knew that he had returned, or that he was even alive. He assumed his funeral must have been a popular topic throughout the country if Fiori had heard about it in Usige.
Fi sighed softly, but made no move to scoop Johan up the way he had before. They had a little time. It was a little past half-past six, and the walk took about fifteen minutes. "I am afraid, prince, that I must insist. I do not intend to treat you like a child, believe me, it is only that you are hurting and you need to be treated with care. What kind of person would I be if I let you continue to run yourself ragged?"
“So what if I’m hurting? You said I could ask you for anything, and I’m asking you for the last bit of dignity I have.” He pursed his lips tighter to keep them from wavering. This ceremony was an execution of sorts, despite not actually dying. And the men outcasted from the country weren’t carried into the woods, they walked themselves. If demanding wasn’t going to work, he would try negotiating. “I’ll see a physician afterwards. You can carry me all you want when you’re my ‘master’, but I’m still my own man now.”
Fi bit his lip, but he had promised. He wouldn't break it, not when that would mean breaking whatever fragile trust Johan had decided to put in him. "I wish you would take better care of yourself," he said, instead of pleading, because he'd been face to face with Johan for about half a day and he was worried he'd be coughing up blood by the end of it. Even so, he would let him walk. "I wish you would let me help you. Could I wrap your ribs when we are back in your quarters, if you will not permit me to carry you?"
