Chapter Text
By rough reckoning, three long years have passed since Ahkmenrah was reunited with his parents; all that long time the museum's inhabitants haven't had an opportunity to live and go through their ordinary nightly routines of interaction. The sudden awakening that followed such a long and oppressive silence, caused a collective amazement among the exhibits of the Museum of Natural History, because no one even dared to expect that they would so suddenly be given a second chance to live. All those many years that were spent in the silent accompaniment of the static museum air and the glances of passing visitors seemed in their duration no different from any ordinary day's lull, but at the same time, they absorbed the entire chronology of human activity that had taken place during all those bygone days and nights within the frozen walls of the historic abode.
Octavius' memory held the flashbacks of all the events leading up to that in many aspects, unfortunate night, like an old, dusty photo album containing someone's life story in the form of colorful pictures. The memory of this became an unwitting stigma on his perception of life's bygone episodes; whenever he allowed reflection on the past to draw him into its depressing yet emotional flow, the echoes of long-dead events still darkened his mood. Despite the fact that every one of his friends and acquaintances, and he himself, eventually found their happy endings.
Octavius remembered the early dawn of the night that had set the stage for their fateful journey to the United Kingdom. Larry had spent the previous week repeatedly telling all the exhibits that the museum was on the verge of a significant event. Everyone had been warned about this through Larry's worried lamentations: no one had the right to interfere with the performance or to assault the guests, who, as he pointed out, were considered to be highly important people, and judging by the strong assurances of the museum's participants, the exhibits had fully absorbed this information. Larry took it upon himself to rehearse the required numbers of the program, especially with Theodore Roosevelt and Dexter; the miniatures were told to just stay out of trouble during rehearsals and during the event in particular.
On the day of the event, Larry and Sacajawea volunteered to make sure the entire museum crew was ready, checking on each one and, in some cases, encouraging them to succeed. On this special night, the Museum of Natural History was in an extraordinary state of excitement as the exhibits excitedly prepared to greet their guests with the welcome and respect they deserved.
As soon as Octavius had instructed his legion to be obedient and not to interfere with other people, Larry almost burst into the hall of dioramas and, in his haste to get Jedediah to the Roman diorama, had asked them both to spare some attention to play with Rexy so that he could release his accumulated energy and not ruin the course of the event at the mercy of an unbridled urge to have fun. They could not refuse him, for poor Larry had no time to devote to the task, and besides, they had no important business to attend to.
After a quick game with the radio-controlled car with Rexy, the miniatures returned to the hall of dioramas to once again check their men for event readiness and take a break from the hustle that reigned in the sprawling halls and corridors; surprisingly, the hall of dioramas had been the quietest place in the museum that night. Octavius remembered noticing an unusual change in Jedediah's demeanor at that moment — he had become unusually quiet and even somewhat lost in his own thoughts, and then Octavius speculated that perhaps some intrusive thought was weighing on his mind. But the truth was a little different: Jedediah confessed that he was nervous about the upcoming event, which surprised the general, for he had rarely seen Jedediah in such a tense state.
In any case, Octavius decided to take charge of the situation and offered him a possible solution to his problem.
Octavius remembered the pleasant sensation that had echoed somewhere under his chest after the simple suggestion of watching a video of funny kitties changed the anxious expression on Jedediah's face to a more positive one, as if by a click of the fingers; the silent uneasiness faded into the background, and Jedediah agreed, even though at first he picked up on the lack of necessary time for this kind of entertainment. Immediately afterward, Octavius informed several of his soldiers that they had an important task ahead of them, and accompanied by a small group of legionaries, they moved into the main pavilion of the museum.
Upon arrival at their destination, Octavius instructed the legionaries to prepare the necessary components to use the computer, and after a short period of time, the entire company began searching for videos of cute kittens and watching them together.
It had been a brief moment of carefree happiness before the odd idyll of the museum fell under the negative influence of the tablet of Ahkmenrah: Octavius casually shared his leisure time with his loyal battle companions, while the unbridled bursts of Jedediah's laughter echoed through the chilly air of the lobby. In the moments of pause, a happy smile wandered across the cowboy's contented face, exposing his big front teeth, which glistened in the dim light of the computer monitor like a row of expensive pearl spheres.
It was more pleasant to watch the sparks of joy in his bright eyes than the uneasy expression that had recently cast a heavy shadow over his face.
Larry was briefly annoyed when he noticed the cluster of miniatures at the registration desk. He explained his displeasure by saying that the event was about to begin, so everyone, including Octavius and Jedediah themselves, should immediately begin their journey to the Planetarium. Due to an urgent lack of time, Larry finally ended his indignant lamentations to the miniatures and went about his own actual business; he met with Theodore Roosevelt and Dexter to finally make sure they were prepared for their performances. As he watched Jedediah shake his head and begin a leisurely walk toward the Planetarium, Octavius let his legionaries go and followed him.
The performance began with welcoming words from Theodore Roosevelt; he carried a proud spirit, accompanied by the inherent poise and eloquence of his stately persona; the beginning of the event could’ve been considered successful and even, in Octavius' opinion, magnificent. The performance continued with remarkable success; soon after Theodore Roosevelt's short speech, the Planetarium was aglow with the lights of all kinds of constellations — this was the so-called "highlight of the program".
Octavius remembered the riot of exhibits thrown into chaos by the corrosion of the tablet: the Planetarium had been drenched in human panic when Orion pointed a sharp arrowhead at a group of people and launched it in a straight trajectory at the head of one of the guests; but by great luck, the man almost miraculously avoided the tragedy at the very last moment.
All the things that happened after the unexpected attack were only vaguely recalled by Octavius because of a violent possession that had quite suddenly seized his mind and senses: an unrestrained force had driven Octavius to evil actions, and a strange voice, wandering among his quite ordinary thoughts, had urged him to cause some harm. With only his eyes he glanced in Jedediah's direction, and judging by the mad grimace that obscured his happy face, Octavius wasn’t the only one who had been in a similar state.
Larry was pissed off afterwards; his face full of uncontrollable anger was Octavius' first clear memory since that unexplainable gap in his memory. Octavius certainly understood his feelings, for somehow each of the exhibits had done exactly what Larry had been worrying about for the entire week leading up to the event. But some of the company, including Octavius himself, still used one excuse in their defense that, as far as could be determined, struck Larry as rather odd: the exhibits pointed to a general lapse in memory that had happened to them at the very moment when the Planetarium was in total chaos. The shadow of displeasure on Larry's face faded a little and was replaced by an expression of genuine confusion; after a moment's thought, he restrained his angry emotions and let the group of exhibits go about their own business.
The night cycle was nearing its end when Octavius and Jedediah returned to the hall of dioramas, accompanied by some of their men. After receiving permission, the cowboys and Roman legionaries began to retreat to their respective dioramas, exchanging small talk with each other about the unfortunate outcome of the event along the way. Octavius, for his part, decided to stay for a while and discuss that situation with Jedediah. Their conversation didn't last too long, as neither man could explain everything that had occurred in the Planetarium; soon they parted again, following their men to the foot of the dioramas. Their penultimate quiet night had come to an end.
It had been only one day since the sudden incident at the Planetarium, and Octavius remembered every key moment that had followed that unpleasant event: the flight to the United Kingdom, which he hadn't been able to witness with his own eyes; the expression of surprise on Larry's face when the entire company of exhibits appeared before him in the storage room, offering to help with the problem; the escape from the furious triceratops through numerous halls and corridors of the British Museum, which resulted in Jedediah slipping from Attila's hat straight to the floor and Octavius having to go after him, because this time he didn't dare to leave him in trouble like he did a few years ago at the Smithsonian Institute.
The incident in the ventilation shaft could be considered one of the worst episodes in Octavius' life — the speed at which they had rushed down the enclosed space bordered on the almost inhuman, and it’d been too hard to breathe because of the relentless gust of wind that blasted their figures with burning cold. All he managed to hear as he flew through the dusty air was echoed in his memories by the deafening howl of the windy stream and his own desperate cries for help, though even in such an extreme situation he was aware that no soul alive would hear his pleas and that hope for rescue was utterly meaningless.
However, as horrifying as the ventilation shaft incident was, Jedediah's ambiguous reaction to his accidentally thrown request was far more frightening than any deadly situation Octavius had ever faced in the entire chronology of his life, both past and present. The moment when his plastic heart had suddenly numbed in the fleeting apprehension that Jedediah might have suspected something undesirable was carved into his memory with a touch of fear and some quiet disappointment, though Octavius couldn't quite make sense of the second feeling.
Octavius would've preferred to forget the events in Pompeii permanently, but somehow most of the nightmarish things that had happened in that miserable city were trumped by the unexpected encounter with their main antagonist. Octavius considered himself as an honest and even somewhat objective person, which is why he wouldn't dare lie with the statement that Lancelot wasn't a handsome man. Much to his displeasure, Jedediah didn't share his opinion at all and, as far as he could tell, was even slightly offended by his straightforward statement; looking at the situation through the prism of recent circumstances, Octavius regretted very much that he'd even considered making a remark on it.
The knight hadn’t been intimidated by the miniatures' fleeing threats at all, and he’d raced away down the long corridor. Almost in step with this, Larry had appeared from around the corner of the museum hall, the look of horror on his face immediately signaled to both miniatures that their overall situation hadn't improved even slightly during their absence. Larry hastily handed Octavius his lost cape, and soon after, the straggling group of exhibits joined them; through some subconscious instinct, he realized that something... wrong was happening to some of his friends — they had to hurry or their fragile lives might suffer some irreparable consequences.
Octavius remembered the near-death scene on the roof of the theater: Lancelot had risked their entire existence for his own selfish motives. Larry had tried his best to reason with Lancelot, to point out the cruelty of his actions; his voice was cracking in a thick fear he could not conceal. As far as Octavius could tell in his dazed state, Larry didn't even try to do that, because dulling his emotions wasn't his top priority at that terrifying moment.
The tablet had made a slight tinkling sound, but this time it hadn’t been as loud as before. It was at this fleeting moment when the truth of their situation was finally revealed to Octavius' eyes; the strange substance had almost completely enveloped the gold of the tablet, and he had no trouble guessing that its magical powers were coming to an inexorable end — it meant a sure doom for each of his friends. He probably should have thought about his last words for Jedediah then, but instead he'd foolishly uttered flippant words of admiration for the appearance of the man whom they called their enemy.
In a sudden instant, Attila's soft hat disappeared from under Octavius' feet, sending him and Jedediah straight down to the surface of the roof. He could barely catch his first few breaths as he hit the ground, though the fall was not too painful, thanks to the cold snow they eventually landed on. However, Octavius' ephemeral relief was replaced by an unusual tightness in his chest that spread throughout his body at a steady pace, a bad sign that each of them had only minutes left before eternal oblivion. He heard Attila's cries of sudden fear and pain, Dexter's pitiful chirping, and the weightless shuddering of snowflakes in the air as his friends fell silent in a premonition of impending death. On an unconscious impulse, his hand twitched and reached for silenced Jedediah.
Even though the cold breath of death swept through his entire being, overshadowing his sense of the surrounding tragedy, Octavius remembered with perfect clarity how the soothing warmth of Jedediah's hand had kept his tunneled attention only on that final gesture, pointing out with convincing insistence the obvious but very important fact: he was not alone. At that moment, Octavius allowed himself to consider the thought — pathetically heroic and even somewhat foolish — that the end of their little lives wouldn't be so terrible while he held Jedediah's bent fingers in his chilled palm with a loose grip; he felt happy, even though his earlier request had only been granted in their near-death state.
And then he was pierced by an inexplicable burst of energy, his plastic lungs filled with the prickly winter air as they had never been before. They were saved—that thought was solidified by the sudden jolt to his side, which was the unexpected embrace of Jedediah, as alive as all of his friends. As alive as himself.
Octavius remembered the devastated look on Larry's face when the entire company of exhibits announced the collective decision to leave the tablet and its owner where they truly belonged. Each one of them, and especially Theodore Roosevelt, tried to convince Larry of the validity of this choice by stating the sad reality of their status in human society: every single one of them was destined for the museum as props - inanimate objects that served as silent examples of the history told through the centuries. They are not real people; the ability to function as human beings is given to them just by accident, and they have pretty much exhausted the limit of this granted miracle called a second life.
Octavius would never have said the next statement out loud, but some stubborn part of his being screamed that he didn't want to say goodbye to people who had given him so many wonderful emotions and memories. He was alive, and his heart was beating like the real one, but he couldn't find the words to contradict that judgment.
Larry had no choice but to accept his friends' decision, for he wouldn't be able to change their view of the situation by his own strength alone; moreover, his desire to leave the tablet at the Museum of Natural History might seem rather selfish. Octavius had immediately realized that parting would be the most difficult ordeal of the present night for everyone in their company, but they would have to overcome this sorrow with all the pain that lurked somewhere deep beneath their chests. After settling all the unfinished business at the British Museum, they had made their way back to New York.
After their return to the Museum of Natural History, the exhibits had reached the final act of their measured lives — their final farewell. The company of three people stood in the somber silence of the diorama room, so quiet that for the first time in his long life it the museum Octavius felt extremely uncomfortable in the place he dared to call his home. As if afraid to break the thick silence of the hall, Larry uttered his last kind words for him and Jedediah in a low voice, sounding as if he were experiencing a terrible emotional crisis, and then leisurely left the room; most likely to share a final moment with the rest of the exhibits. Larry's absence from the hall of dioramas made Octavius fully realize that this was the actual end, with no possibility of a happy outcome. His last hope had died a painful death, so he turned to the hope that was still alive in the form of his best friend.
Jedediah didn't bother to respond to his faded gaze with anything more than a strained silence, except for a weightless nod toward the foot of their dioramas. Octavius certainly understood the meaning of his gesture and followed his heavy footsteps to the place that, for the most part, held only the happy memories of their meetings after the day's slumber.
When they reached their destination, they stopped at the crossroads between their dioramas and stood silently in front of each other in a kind of mute farewell scene, not exactly knowing what words would be appropriate to their current situation or what should be said in general. Suddenly, Jedediah broke the ringing silence of the diorama hall with a rather unusual, almost intermittent sigh. The cowboy's face was hidden behind the curved brim of his hat, but for some abrupt moment he summoned what little strength he had left to put himself together and raise his sunken head; the fallen gaze of his eyes finally shifted toward Octavius, and he held his breath, beginning to take in every detail of the mask of untold sorrow on Jedediah's face, trying to carve that moment into his memory for the remaining moments of their lives.
And he memorized it. The drooping corners of his lips and their uncontrollable trembling — no matter how hard Jedediah tried to suppress that sudden impulse, the powerful feeling of helplessness that had overwhelmed him was many times more assertive and stronger than his titanic will; the deeply unhappy expression of his blue eyes, this time devoid of that cheerful sparkle that had fluttered in them only hours before; the faint glitter of tears on his cheeks... This extremely uncharacteristic sight pierced Octavius' heart with a stinging pain comparable only to the touch of a sword's cold blade deep in his chest. None, none of his memories of his life in the museum's chaos contained Jedediah's tears, and this once again had confirmed the truth of the dire situation they found themselves in.
Like the caress of an angel's wing, arms wrapped around his shoulders in a final embrace, bitter words of farewell and promises of a better end shook the chilly air of the diorama pavilion, all of which was almost instantly replaced by an unpleasant cold that announced a very soon parting. In that fleeting moment, as Jedediah cast one last sad glance in his direction and turned away to end that agonizing prelude to endless sleep, the realization of so many important things struck Octavius firmly.
As Octavius had watched Jedediah's distance with dull eyes, he felt a sudden tightening in an undefined place beneath his ribcage; the painful realization of his unwillingness to leave crushed his chest like an iron vise, and the myriad of fleeting regrets in his mind coalesced into an impenetrable jumble of thoughts and images of how their now sad circumstances might've turned out if the tablet remained at their disposal.
He would never witness the moonlight again; his new life within the walls of the Museum of Natural History had lasted a solid five decades, and even though he had spent most of that time bitterly accompanied by hatred and an unquenchable desire for more lands, his remaining short years spent in peaceful relations with the museum's inhabitants had been beautiful in their own way. Existence in a world so different from his own had ignited in his heart a longing for new things — unexplored things yet —that he would now be deprived of for all eternity.
He would no longer be able to lead his brave army; no one would ever claim that leading an entire legion was a simple matter, and sometimes Octavius was tired of his leadership status and the responsibilities that came with it. But despite the difficulties of such an important position, he found many wonderful nuances among the strict discipline and impartial faces: inelegant movements of the recruits in the course of hard training, which deep inside he found extremely amusing; casual dialogues with the legionaries on the same level as his high rank; and many other delightful things stored in his heart in the form of pleasant experiences. Octavius regretted very much that, during his entire considerable life, he had rarely expressed words of sincere appreciation to the legion.
He would never see Jedediah again. In his mind, there simply was no possibility that one day he would open his eyes to a new night's actions and hear his own name called out by the cowboy's cheerful voice. But, however much his heart ached at the mere thought of it, Octavius was able to set aside his own worries and, among the countless thoughts that burned his eyes with hot tears, single out the one thing he grieved for more than anything else. He was well aware that Jedediah cherished the opportunity to live, and despite his own remark about their importance as museum pieces, he wished he could still awake in eager anticipation of new adventures as he always did; but from now on, he would be deprived of that ability, and quite possibly forever.
Octavius would have sacrificed everything he had ever had to give Jedediah a chance to continue to contemplate and feel, for in that sorrowful moment he realized one of the most important things that had ever affected his life in any way: Jedediah's happiness was above the desires of the whole world and his own desires in particular.
Octavius remembered returning to the Roman diorama on barely bendable legs and taking his customary position in front of the line of legionaries that had frozen in blissful unawareness the night before. With tear-stained eyes, he gazed at each of them leisurely, then turned his attention to the rough wall opposite him, imagining that somewhere behind it, Jedediah was preparing to meet their sad fate in utter solitude. The soft rays of dawn overtook his small form as suddenly as the loud sob that shook his entire torso in a sudden impulse.
And then he drew a new, shuddering breath. In desperate disbelief, he swept his eyes over the lively faces of his legionaries, not quite comprehending the sight that was developing before him: as if nothing had happened, the Romans began to greet and encourage each other about the upcoming night, and then collectively turned their attention to the general, who stood in utter bewilderment in his usual place. Octavius looked at them with a completely dumbfounded look and, in an unsteady voice, told them to leave and attend to their own business, which the soldiers obeyed without any hesitation.
Octavius vaguely remembered most of what had happened because of the unfamiliar veil that had overtaken his mind at that startling moment after he'd left the Roman diorama, searching for an explanation for his sudden awakening; but amidst the vague stream of familiar faces and exclamations of joy, he was able to catch a glimpse of something he wouldn't dare forget for the rest of his life—he heard the shout of his own name from the direction of the western diorama, which made his chest tighten painfully. He turned over his shoulder and ran at breakneck speed toward the neighboring diorama.
Octavius remembered the overwhelming embrace, bursting beneath his heart with boundless feelings of love and gratitude for the wonderful chance to see Jedediah again, alive and sparkling with an unstoppable rush of joy. He remembered the great celebration of Ahkmenrah's return to the Museum of Natural History in New York: the inconceivable number of exhibits, the loud music that he often heard from Larry's phone, and the emotional reunion with his old friends.
He remembered quite a lot of things about bitter nights he and his dear friends had suffered in the past, and partly because of that, he was angry about some recent circumstances. Or, more specifically, he was angry at a certain person in his new entourage.
. . .
The current night shift at the Museum of Natural History weaved along in a flow of quiet minutes, absent of any excited moods or loud events, which was quite impressive considering what a noisy place the museum was at night. The night cycle was slowly coming to its logical end, ready to give place to the next time of day and lie silent until a certain moment. In unison with this, the ghostly rudiments of dawn, already peeking out from behind the ruts of tall buildings, began to color the lowlands of the dense, gloomy sky in a deep scarlet gradient. The trill of nightingales, one of the first harbingers of the upcoming morning, wafted through the walls of the imposing museum, alerting all exhibits to return to their places before an approaching fall into a magical slumber.
It was Sunday night, a day of the week on which Octavius was convinced not to devote himself to his leadership cares and to rest properly, because the following night he must dedicate himself to his duties with full concentration and to work hard to fulfill them with the distinctive quality demanded by his disciplined personality. Since he wasn't too keen on the company of his legionaries at the moment, he had arranged for Jedediah to meet him at the foot of their dioramas so that they could go to the main wing of the museum together and ask the new night guard to borrow her phone; that way, it would be much easier for them to watch videos of cute kittens.
The pair of miniatures walked leisurely down the long museum corridor to their intended destination, encountering all sorts of museum inhabitants who were careful to avoid stepping on them and greeting them in their native languages. As the miniatures walked, they exchanged words about their intentions for the coming days and weeks — since they had been in magical sleep for three long years, it was imperative that they make up for lost time and opportunities, as well as explore newfound aspects of the current social world. That was why one of the first things they had decided to do was watch animal videos, because Jedediah had been quite adamant in insisting that there was an unimaginable amount of funny and interesting animal content that could've appeared on the internet in the meantime, and Octavius was powerless against his bubbling enthusiasm, though for the most part he didn't try too hard to resist it.
"Firstly, let's rewatch that funny video with the kittens and the flashlight," Jedediah stated, gesturing with his hand in the air to emphasize his point. "It's one o' my favorites, and besides, it helped us escape from giant lions! Remember that?"
“Of course, I remember. But I'd say we were saved only because of your ingenuity..." The general gave a slight smile and stared far away at the opposite wall. “I would never have thought of such a thing in my life! I wouldn't be smart enough for that.”
In the course of their brief conversation, they had almost reached the turn that led to the museum's lobby, which was only a few meters away, in the scale of their small sizes, of course. Surprisingly, Jedediah fell silent and stopped ranting about their plans for the near future, giving him an unreadable look. Octavius couldn't quite put his finger on which part of his remark had caused that effect, whether that was words of understated praise or a subtle hint at his own lack of intelligence.
“Hey, but you're not stupid at all," Jedediah finally broke the silence, his tone remaining cautious for some unknown reason. “Just so ya know, even though that helmet of yours keeps ya from thinkin' properly sometimes, you're a darn lot smarter than that ol’ cowb-"
Suddenly, a heavy iron sabaton leapt from the corner of the corridor, nearly sending both miniatures into a wild flight across the long hallway. On mere reflex, Octavius threw his arm out in front of the cowboy and pushed him back in a single, forceful motion; Jedediah let out a faint yelp and stumbled backward, managing by some incredible miracle not to trip over his own boot. The sabaton slammed on the shiny floor with a heavy and loud thud, and the company of miniatures craned their heads upward to recognize the identity of the absurd man who had not been trained to watch his step while in the Museum of Natural History. Octavius's eyes widened in slight surprise: this man was Lancelot, the one who had almost doomed all his fellow friends to a terrible fate.
Lancelot didn't bother to stop and apologize for his carelessness—he probably hadn't even noticed their presence—and continued down the hall. But Jedediah had no intention of letting his blunder pass unnoticed, and, jumping up with anger, he pumped his fists into the air and shouted after the knight:
“Hey, watch where ya goin'!”
Lancelot stood at the beginning of the corridor and then, clearly surprised and confused, slowly scanned the perimeter of his surroundings. Octavius could see his brow furrow as he turned sideways to them; he had probably heard Jedediah's indignant exclamation and was trying to locate the supposed source of the sound.
“Yeah, I'm talking to you, jackass! Look down!” Jedediah continued as he made his way towards the knight, hopping up on the toes of his cowboy boots.
Octavius didn't dare make an attempt to stop his unbridled fury, at least because he was equally unhappy with the current state of affairs, and he followed Jedediah's bouncing steps. He could probably even share the cowboy's discontent and insert a few words of his own about their messed-up plans and mood.
Lancelot finally turned to face Jedediah and Octavius, and his gaze lowered to the floor; his squinting eyes swept the surface of the floor for a moment before catching the movement of a pair of miniatures in his direction. His facial features lit up with an unpretentiously friendly smile, quite different from the evil grimace that once quite impressively marred the first impression of his personality.
“Oh, tiny people!” exclaimed the knight, slightly bending down his body to get a better look at the miniatures in front of him. ”How can I help you?”
“Tiny?! C'me closer, and I'll show ya who's tiny!” Jedediah shrieked and made an almost comical lunge at Lancelot, stretching into the air as if in a determined attempt to frighten him.
Octavius stretched his arms out in front of him and caught the cowboy, holding him back from getting into a pointless battle with the iron of the knight's armor: fighting against such hard material could easily hurt Jedediah, especially if Lancelot began to resist his impulsive actions.
“Octavius, lemme beat him up!”
“No," the general cut him off and addressed the knight directly. “But I have to admit: I'm not very happy about the fact that you almost hit us with your... boot.”
“Not very happy?! Pardner, he almost kicked us across the hall!” Jedediah flared up and finally managed to wriggle out of the Roman's tight grip.
Octavius let the cowboy go without a moment's hesitation and didn't trouble himself to answer his indignation, for his attention was rather impressively drawn to the unusual glimmer of interest that appeared on Lancelot's face: the direction of his penetrating gaze was concentrated on the rampaging figure of Jedediah, and the Roman was unable to understand exactly what emotion brought a slight smile to his lips. And apparently he hadn't paid even the slightest attention to Octavius' presence, for the knight completely ignored his somewhat offended statement, and instead of apologizing for his mistake, he muttered a few words that made the general tense up quite a bit.
“How charming!” he murmured, and, trying to be extremely careful, knelt down on one knee in front of the miniatures, then bowed his head to the ground as much as he could and literally stared at Jedediah. “What is this lovely thing babbling about?”
The cowboy stumbled over his own ranting and fell silent, staring at Lancelot's valiant face in silent astonishment. As it seemed to Octavius at that moment, Lancelot's unexpected words didn't reach Jedediah's understanding instantly because he looked at the Roman with a confused glint in his eyes, as if he were addressing him with a silent question. Octavius returned him the incomprehensible look, although he clearly understood that this scene was taking quite a strange turn.
“What did you jus' call me?..” the cowboy said, his tone slipping into an embarrassed one.
“I said "lovely thing"! And I am not lying," Lancelot asserted, a radiant expression spreading across his noble face.
Suddenly, he reached out his gauntlet-covered hands toward Jedediah, picking him up with the carefulness that wasn't characteristic of his massive appearance. Octavius' sharp hearing caught Jedediah's muffled cries of indignation before the knight rose from his knee and brought his hands almost to the level of his face, presumably to get a closer look at the sitting cowboy in his palms.
“I remember meeting you before," Lancelot continued, tilting his head from one side to the other, apparently trying to get a good look at Jedediah's small face. “But then I didn't have a chance to notice how beautiful your features were!"
These words rang out in the thick air of the museum corridor, causing Octavius' focus to shift to the things that Lancelot was saying; a strange uneasy feeling stirred in his chest at the sight of Lancelot staring at the cowboy as if he were some kind of miraculous creature.
“I should have noticed it before, but unfortunately we met under unpleasant circumstances…”
“Let me go!” A cry of outrage came from Lancelot's palms, and the Roman's heart sank at the sight of his poor friend's defenselessness. With a dexterous maneuver of his hand, he snatched his sword from its sheath and swung it high above his head, hoping to somehow draw the knight's attention to himself.
“Let him go, or I will bring the full wrath of the Roman Empire down upon you!” he roared and shook his sword slightly in the air. Lancelot's fair eyebrows raised slightly in display of surprise, and his gaze dropped to furious Octavius.
“Oh, I apologize," he said, placing the palm of his hand on his armored chest before turning back to the cowboy with a slightly guilty expression. “I simply admire the golden blond hair and crystal-bright eyes of this gorgeous man. His stunning appearance is truly something you cannot help but enjoy!
He fell silent for a moment, looking at Jedediah very closely, then suddenly exclaimed with a slight chuckle:
“Oh, he even has some pretty tiny freckles!”
“I said let him go!" The Roman's voice changed to a more threatening tone, and with it, his thick eyebrows drew together at the bridge of his nose in obvious anger. To his fleeting puzzlement, Jedediah fell silent and no longer expressed his annoyed feelings. “He doesn't like being treated that way.”
Lancelot endured a couple more long, like a day's oblivion, seconds to linger a final glance at the little cowboy, and finally ground himself to one knee again.
“All right, I understand perfectly well," he said with a slight nod of his head, as if to confirm his words, and brought his cupped hands to the very surface of the floor, allowing Jedediah to return to his previous position beside Octavius.
Jedediah promptly sprang from his vulnerable position in Lancelot's hands and threw his foot over his finger to haul himself to the ground and put an end to this strange display of knightly flattery; his boot accidentally caught on one of the iron parts of Lancelot's gauntlet, and he bounced awkwardly on the spot, but Octavius caught up with him in time to prevent a nasty fall to the ground.
“But I will still remember your beauty from time to time. I hope our paths will cross again!”
With these words, Lancelot rose to his feet and straightened his posture, and then, with one last glance in the cowboy's direction, began to walk away down the corridor on his supposed business.
Octavius followed Lancelot's distancing with an irritated expression in his eyes, but he didn't dwell on it too long when he had more important matters and concerns to attend to. Trying to shake away the angry shadow from his face, he turned to Jedediah, but was unexpectedly met with a rather odd sight: the cowboy remained uncharacteristically calm and silent, the noticeable tension in his usually brash posture a clear signal that this situation had not left him unaffected. But one of the most remarkable things was the intermingling of the various shades of scarlet and pink on his cheeks; it looked breathtaking and beautiful, but the realization of the reason for it did not arouse the most cheerful feelings in the Roman.
The knight's words alone made Jedediah blush. Octavius knew well that he was shy about accepting praise from other people, but never in his existence had he seen him blush that eagerly at mere words of compliment. He wouldn't have been lying if he had expressed his helpless resentment at Lancelot's inappropriate compliments and the unpleasant residue left by their accidental encounter with him.
Moreover, the inability to do anything to prevent his friend from being treated inappropriately had put him in a bad mood, and he suddenly felt... weak, even useless in some ways. If he couldn't protect Jedediah and himself, then what was the point of carrying a plastic sword in his sheath and practicing hard army training regularly?
The awkward shuffle of a boot against the shiny floor jolted Octavius from his fleeting ritual of self-sabotage, and he finally overcame the uncomfortable silence that had settled itself between them with a simple question:
“Shall we move on?..”
Jedediah raised his drooping head timidly and gave the Roman a glance out of the corner of his eye before shoving his hands into his pockets with a sharp motion.
“Yeah," was his reply.
Octavius said no more, and they resumed their journey to the museum lobby together. Unfortunately, his mood was no longer as positive as it had been before Lancelot's intervention.
What in the world just happened?..