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Leaving the castle and getting back home passed in a pleasant euphoric haze for Arthur. They won, that jerk was killed as his brother put it, and they could go back to their circus.
Percival was happily clucking, also pleased he could return home.
It was already dark by the time they arrived at their cottage, and Arthur said to Grizelda and Rumpole that he was going to get Percival settled down in the henhouse and check on other animals.
After making sure all animals were resting comfortably, Arthur entered the main room of the cottage, which was both the kitchen and the dining room for them, and he was surprised to find it deserted. The lamps were lit, but nobody was in the room and Arthur felt a spike of alarm shoot through him.
“Rumpole?” He called, striding quickly across the floor to the main door. “Rumpole!” he called again; the worry audible in his voice.
“We are here,” Grizelda softly responded before Arthur could take more than a few steps out of the main door and into the darkness. In the weak light coming from the doorway, he could see Grizelda and Rumpole sitting on the bench next to the door, making Arthur let out a relieved breath he did not realize he was holding.
“Is something the matter?” Arthur asked, noticing Rumpole swiftly wiping his eyes with his hand.
“I will leave you two to talk,” Grizelda said, with a last reassuring squeeze of Rumpole’s shoulder. “Come inside to have some pie when you finish.” She stood up and with a meaningful glance towards Arthur, she disappeared back into the house.
“No, everything is fine,” Rumpole answered to Arthur, still not looking at him, but he didn’t quite manage to hide the wobble in his voice.
Arthur sat down on the bench on the opposite side than where Grizelda had been. “What is it Rumpole,” he softly asked, sitting close to his brother, pressing their shoulders together. To his relief, Rumpole did not draw away, leaning into him in return.
“It’s just…” Rumpole took a shuddering breath. “You died today.” He choked out, trying to stop the sob crawling its way out of his throat.
Arthur winced at the reminder of some of the day’s events. He had been unsuccessfully trying to forget Rumpole’s desperate expression as Arthur said goodbye to him, before the darkness enveloped him.
When he woke up, he simply felt as if he took short nap. And there were other things to focus on, but he noticed Rumpole stealing glances at him as afraid Arthur might disappear any moment.
He couldn’t imagine something happening to Rumpole. But he knew that if their roles were switched, there would be no juggling of tears, instead there would be several jugs of them before he simply drowned in them.
“I am here,” he tried, putting his arm around Rumpole, holding him close. Rumpole said nothing in response, only taking a shuddering breath before curling against Arthur like the small boy he once was.
“But you weren’t.” This time, Rumpole didn’t manage to stifle a sob, even though he said it with a touch of petulance.
Arthur was reminded of that time when they were kids, and their father needed to go to the neighbouring kingdom for something. What was it now escaped Arthur but it was connected to the circus, as almost everything in their lives. The point was, it was a long journey, and having two sons, it was logical for one to go with their father and the other to stay with their mother to help her. Rumpole was the one who stayed behind, and he cried hard then too when he was waving them off with their mother.
“I came back,” Arthur rubbed Rumpole’s shoulder, putting his other arm around him too, at a loss what to do.
Rumpole said nothing, only sniffling a little into Arthur’s tunic, holding onto him for dear life.
Arthur sighed sympathetically. He kept forgetting that Rumpole was in fact the younger of the two. But so did probably Rumpole himself.
With only a year between them, Arthur didn’t have a memory from his childhood that didn’t involve Rumpole, being by his side, (or on his back or his shoulders), making them the well-known duo of those-two-circus-boys. With them being so close in age, their parents did not make much difference in how they treated the two of them, leaving no resentment from the younger-older sibling dynamic.
In fact, Rumpole, with his natural predisposition being more serious of the two of them, was always the responsible one, adhering to laws and rules, leaving Arthur the freedom of rule-breaking and maverick tendencies. Their different natures worked well together, even with some rare and quickly resolved clashes.
When it came to the two of them, Rumpole was always the one to look at things pragmatically, while Arthur’s first response was usually more emotional. Thus, Rumpole was generally the one who calmed Arthur down and made him consider things from other sides. Their situation was now reversed, with Arthur being the level-headed one while Rumpole had an understandably hard time dealing with what happened, and it was a little unfamiliar ground.
Feeling wetness on his shoulder from Rumpole’s quiet tears, Arthur simply continued to hug him.
“There, there,” He patted Rumpole’s shoulder, immediately wincing at such a stupid phrase.
“It was not by choice,” he finally responded to Rumpole’s earlier statement. “You know I’m not leaving you if can help it.”
Rumpole only sighed, but released his tight hold on Arthur, slowly straightening up, his breathing now calmer.
Arthur rubbed his back one more time before taking his arms away, but they remained sitting very close, sides pressed together.
“You are stuck with me.” Arthur stated with quiet conviction. “Just as I am stuck with you. Who else would be able to juggle with me in synch?” He nudged Rumpole with his shoulder easily making him sway.
“You were always better at juggling,” Rumpole wiped his eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips. He had to catch himself with one hand on the bench, or he would have toppled over.
“My juggling would be nothing if you didn’t bring your flair to it.” Arthur was gladdened to see Rumpole's spirits lifted.
For a few moments, they sat together, quietly looking into the darkness beyond the small circle of the weak light coming from the doorway next to them. The night was calm, the usual nighttime sounds mingling with Grizelda’s quiet singing coming through the open door.
“Are you really alright?” Rumpole quietly asked.
“Absolutely.” Arthur did not hesitate to immediately reassure him. Although he was sure his back would probably complain tomorrow morning about carrying a lion, unless the chicken magic took care of that also.
Rumpole nodded, at last back to his usual calm disposition. Arthur was gratified that Rumpole seemed significantly more at ease, his shoulders loose and his breathing calm.
Then Arthur unexpectedly slapped Rumpole on his knee. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s have some Grizelda’s pie. You know she made it mainly for you.” He teasingly nudged him with his elbow and smirked when Rumpole shyly dipped his head and looked to the side, a clear sign he was blushing.
It was very obvious to Arthur that Grizelda fancied Rumpole very much, and Rumpole was being as awkward about it as a baby deer taking its first steps. Arthur usually watched their interactions with quiet amusement, not stepping in and leaving them to figure it out between themselves, whatever that was.
“Shouldn’t we go to the mountain to find the lion?” Rumpole asked in a clear ploy to change the topic.
“We can find Bert tomorrow.” Arthur waved off the suggestion. It would be silly to go and look for a lion in the dark when they could sleep instead and do it the next day. “Come on, up you go.” He stood up, dragging Rumpole with him. And then in a sudden movement, he simply threw Rumpole over his shoulder.
“Ooof!” Rumpole huffed at Arthur’s shoulder being unexpectedly driven into his stomach. “Arthur! Not like that!” He laughed helplessly. Their performance of both of them juggling torches on fire while he was standing on Arthur’s shoulders was one of the most popular, but he vehemently objected to being carried around like a sack of potatoes. Which naturally made Arthur do it to tease him.
“Well, you know what to do, then,” Arthur laughed too, releasing his grip on Rumpole’s legs. Gently annoying his brother was always fun.
Rumpole huffed again, unsuccessfully trying to pretend he was mightily irritated, as he scrambled over Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur kept an arm out in case Rumpole needed to catch himself, but his brother easily settled on Arthur’s back.
“Aren’t we a little too old for this,” Rumpole wasn’t able to say this without his large smile being clearly audible. Standing on Arthur’s shoulders was one thing, being carried around on his back like a baby monkey was something they haven’t done for quite some time.
“Never.” Arthur answered immediately. “You are never too old for piggyback rides. And I can’t believe you are actually asking that, we work in a circus!” He did a little twirl, making Rumpole laugh again as he clutched his shoulders, both sharing their joy of being able to continue their lives as circus performers.
They didn’t quiet down before going back inside, the warm light and inviting scents of Grizelda’s cooking drawing them in.
With Grizelda’s and Rumpole's laughter mingling in the air as Arthur refused to set Rumpole down before sitting on the bench by the table and lightly squishing Rumpole between his back and the wall, the warm certainty that they will be alright settled over Arthur. And judging from the smiles of his two companions, they felt the same.
The end.