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The pageantry of the Jubilee had barely begun, and Kip was already regretting the necessity of Fitzroy being the Emperor again so he could officially hand Zunidh over, renounce titles, et-very-cetera. Mostly because Fitzroy was, after a half-day of ceremonies and bowing and distance despite his friendly lack of serenity in public, about ready to scream.
Given that he was, and might be targeted as, the Emperor for this last bit of remaining time, he was housed in the Imperial Apartments again with a full rotation of guards. Conju was seeing to his makeup and clothing, but had been firmly told that he could either set out bath supplies and leave, or join the Emperor in the bath.
To which he had thought for a moment, and then asked, “If I set out the supplies for you, after you’re done can I have a turn in it?” Which had made Fitzroy laugh and relax a little as he agreed.
Nonetheless, when he had come to the bed with Kip - with Ludvic, Rhodin, and Conju quartered in nearby rooms and the guards on duty firmly outside the doors - he had been restless and uneasy, and despite backrubs and hugs and cuddling, had been slowly retreating into the serenity he hadn't been using in public. Which would have been fine if it had brought him some peace, but it seemed instead to be slowly smothering him.
Kip was rubbing his arms by now, quietly saying, “I’m here, love, I have you. It’s just an overly-large bed, and we’re sharing it.” He resolutely didn’t take his eyes off his fanoa, because he couldn’t have dismissed the bed so easily if he had been letting himself look at any part of the foamwork curtains; the overly-fine linens were easier to ignore. “You’re leaving this behind. It’s just - just play-acting for a week or so–” he almost choked after saying that, the time frame sounded so horribly long when a half-day had his fanoa retreating already. Indeed, Fitzroy’s body was moving into the Emperor’s sitting posture, his face so very empty that Kip could only read it as the deepest upset.
Conju had entered midway through the attempt and set to plumping pillows, his worry mostly smothered and still entirely obvious as he had tried to make Fitzroy more physically comfortable. At these last words, he took the pillow he had just picked up, said, “That is quite enough,” and swung it at Kip, smacking him in the shoulder. It was a good thing it was a down pillow, because he had not pulled the blow at all, and it stung briefly. Then he swung it back the other way, into Fitzroy’s chest, toppling him over sideways on the bed.
Kip grabbed one of the other pillows without hesitation and went for Conju. Fitzroy yelped, and it wavered between outrage and laughter before settling on the latter as he scrambled up and armed himself. Shortly the three of them were swinging pillows with abandon, occasionally throwing one when their grip wasn’t tight enough.
It took a while before the first pillow burst and feathers literally flew, but after two pillows’ worth of feathers were in the air - where Fitzroy’s magic appeared to be blowing them about and keeping them up - they all three collapsed in laughter.
Rhodin and Ludvic had appeared in the door leading toward their rooms at some point, a fact the three around the bed became aware of when Rhodin said ironically, “It’s always nice to see the dignity of the office on display.”
Fitzroy threw a pillow at him, too.