Just your average Red Dead fan who may or may not have an unhealthy obsession ^^' 23 - She/Her - NSFW included - Likes writing, just not very good at it
Wow-- an entire year, huh? I know I've not been around for probably most of it (mental health is a real kicker, y'all!) But it's been great! I only started playing RDR2 a year ago now, and I kick myself everyday for not having done so sooner. I was a huge fan of RDR so why I didn't immediately buy RDR2 is beyond me, but now with all these rumors going around about a potential remake of RDR, I'm about ready to get my heart stamped on again and my life absolutely consumed by my beloved favourite franchise 😅 Let's hope these rumors are true, and better yet, please do my boy justice 🥺
Summary - In search of the herb Yarrow within the expanse of the Heartlands, you come across a bloodied looking Arthur Morgan departing Valentine after his conflict with Tommy. Being the camp medic, it's your duty to tend to the injured, but such close contact with the Outlaw invites some deep secrets to be revealed.
Wordcount - 6000+ (Finally a SHORTER fic of mine!)
Notes - Angst, physical injury, some good ol' fluffy stuff!
This was just a random idea I came up with in my head. It's by no means an amazing bit of literature, but I did enjoy writing this one! Things have been pretty tricky this last month and a half, so I apologise for my absence. I won't be posting regularly but I shall try my best to post as and when :)
Song I obsessively listened to whilst writing this: Novo Amor - Repeat Until Death
"Red petals, red petals, red petals..." Was all you could repeat to yourself for the better part of twenty minute or so, finding yourself in the middle of the grassy plateaus of the Heartlands, a beautiful stretch of land belonging to the state of New Hanover, during the late afternoon hours situated close to Valentine, the little livestock town in the near distance.
This particular plateau you were loitering about on, dubbed 'Citadel Rock' by the locals, was littered with an abundance of different herbs and flowers. One such flower you had been on the search for was proving rather difficult to find, you'd assumed this would be the perfect climate for such a herb, but you were by the second proving yourself wrong.
With a hefty sigh and a slap to your right knee, you stood from your previous crouched position to saddle back onto your mount, "Good girl, Nimbus," a beautiful silvery white Gypsy Cob mare with a sweet little singular plat in her long white mane.
Your frustration was becoming all too apparent as your browline creased and your jaw clenched.
You were the assigned medic to Dutch Van Der Linde's gang, so the entire line of men and women within said gang were all under your care, and having lost most (if not all) of your supplies during the evacuation from your previous camp in Blackwater, you were in desperate need to stock up.
The camp had no money, so buying a few tonics was out of the question. Even you yourself had been out of pocket the last few weeks, so collecting herbs to create various poultice for wounds and injuries was your only option now. You were grateful for the help Hosea had offered you to tend to your limited stock whilst you set off on the hunt for one particular herb.
A sudden strong gust of wind brought you back to your senses, letting out a dishevelled grunt at the irritation of the bluster, various strands of your own hair getting caught in your mouth. You pulled your black Gambler hat down to obscure the sun from your vision, all the while removing the fine strands of hair from your mouth.
Giving Nimbus a gentle tap on the side with your spurs, you continued on, eyes scanning the green grass and various reddish coloured flowers you came across - not one of which was Yarrow, though you had decided to pick what herbs you could find that were useful along the way for safe keeping. What you did have back at camp for now desperately needed Yarrow to complete the mix, but a few extra bits here and there wouldn't hurt.
An hour long search resulted in nothing. No Yarrow. It was growing darker by the second and soon it would be virtually impossible to see what you were looking for.
You could hardly believe it when Nimbus set foot back onto the dusty path after leaving the heights of Citadel Rock, having been certain that afternoon that Yarrow would most definitely grow there. You'd even exclaimed excitement to Dutch, ensuring him that you would find what you were looking for. Now the thought of returning empty handed almost terrified you, Dutch was already teetering on the edge of complete insanity, and you didn't want to be the one to push him over that edge, but now you had to face the music; you were going to be returning back to camp empty handed.
That's when a nicker from Nimbus caught your attention. You had company, and the mare you sat idle upon recognised the scent up ahead.
You cupped your hand in front of the lowering sun to set your gaze on the little dot in the distance, galloping towards you after exiting Valentine. A billow of dust clouded up behind the steed, growing ever larger and the whinnies from Nimbus were gaining quantity, ears pinned forward curiously. You could feel the gentle sway of her posture as she almost attempted to stand taller as if to try and make out who was advancing towards you.
Once the glare of sunlight dispersed behind the mount, you instantly recognised the horse and the rider - a large, burley looking steed that towered over any other equine it passed, a grey/silver coat complimented with white splashes and dots here and there, a magnificent white flurry of long well kempt hair and neatly buffed pinkish hooves came charging towards you, and her rider draped in muddied black clothes hid his face behind that all too familiar leather hat of his, the freyed bolo rope tastles flittering behind him.
"Arthur?" Your voice was quick to catch the man's attention as he slowed his mount with a gentle "Woah there, girl," coming to a hault in front of you and Nimbus.
His face still hid all the same, replying with a quiet, "Miss Y/l/n."
Arthur's short, stiff reply had your expression scrunch up quizzically. Usually the both of you got along like wildfire to a parched heathland, always finding the time out of both of your busy schedules to sit by the campfire at Horseshoe Overlook and simply chat until either one of you was dragged away on duty, or you felt the pinch of fatigue calling you to bed. Arthur as of right now sounded agitated and monotone, not an ounce of friendliness in his voice that you came to look forward to hearing at the end of the day, for you had grown sweet on him many years prior, but decided against revealing those feelings to the Outlaw out of respect for his involvement with Mary Gillis (now Linton, so you heard, though her husband had passed.)
It was almost as if Arthur wasn't best pleased to see you, like your presence was the last thing he intended to see.
"How are you?" A little confused, you decided to begin your conversation with something... not too invasive. Despite concidering Arthur one of the most caring men you'd come to meet, you were fully aware of his infamous temper. You didn't want to disturb that hot molten lava beneath the surface that already threatened to seep through the cracks; you'd seen it once before in camp many years ago, a fury burning brighter and hotter than the sun. You also couldn't stand idly by and ignore a potential bereavement he was facing, however. Arthur seemed tense, and the way he was positioned told you he wasn't comfortable upon horseback. You had to take this slowly, unless it was absolutely necessary to push and pry.
Arthur didn't respond at first, only rotated his apparently stiffened shoulder and drew in a heavy sniff, one that sounded almost wet, "Doin' fine. I guess."
Something was most certainly bothering him. Arthur never replied to you with such dryness. You gently ushered Nimbus a little closer with a gentle tap of your heel, noticing how Arthur tensed with every small step forward, closer to him. It was at that moment you noticed it, a splash of dried blood lining his black collar that had a trail running from his neck and chin before slipping away under the brim of his hat that he lowered some more, hanging his head in a desperate hope that you hadn't realised: but you had.
Arthur was also completely caked in thick mud, a mixture of stagnant water and sheep excrement, an overpowering scent that caught your nostrils.
"Arthur... are you bleeding? And look at your clothes... you're covered in mud!" A single brow rose as you leant forward against that silver leather saddle of yours, trying to get a better judgement at the severity of - what you guessed was - a potential nosebleed, perhaps even a busted nose.
Originally you'd planned on being gentle with Arthur, but you'd changed your mind the moment you saw the crimson liquid staining his skin. Now you were worried. Now you understood why Arthur was so distraught to see you, because he was planning on running off to hide away from your gaze and your longing to treat him for his alements.
With a heavy sigh, you slumped back into your saddle again and crossed your arms, your voice dropping to a more professional tone, "I'm the camp medic, Arthur. You've got to tell me, or at least show me. Please?"
Arthur shifted uncomfortably on his saddle, swallowing thickly at the mere thought of letting you see his face. His hands seemed to tighten their grip against the leather reins, drawing your attention to the bloodied knuckles staining his skin. You wondered, only briefly, if Arthur was concidering a quick get away, but relaxed once he let out a heavy sigh of defeat, "Fine... I'll tell ya. Ain't no convincing you otherwise is there, woman?"
"No sir." You gave Arthur a devilish smirk and coaxed Nimbus to his Silver Dapple Pinto mare's side, silently thanking yourself for stocking up on Ginseng on your hunt for Yarrow. There was surely going to be a lot of swelling, you thought, as you studied the amount of dried blood upon Arthur's neck.
"I got into a fight with the town's tough guy. Got beat pretty bad. That's it."
You frowned, and although not being able to see much damage, the way Arthur awkwardly drew the back of his hand across his chin, wiping it against his leg told you he was still bleeding, "Christ Arthur! How did you get yourself into that?!"
"Just happened, I guess... it's nothin'." Arthur's awkward sideward shrug alerted you to more than just a busted nose. You studied the way Arthur had been awkwardly hunched over, shifting against the saddle on top of Nimbus to attempt a better viewing angle and failing all the same, chewing anxiously at your inner lip. You guessed his awkward shoulder roll from earlier indicated some damage there, and the obvious blood trailing down his shirt.
"Okay," you muttered quietly and halfly to yourself as you squinted, the concentration forming a wrinkle within your browline, and a crease of your nose, "Let's get you back to camp, mister. I'll try my best to fix you up with what little we have."
The ride back to camp, albeit short, was anything but delightful.
Arthur was silent. You could almost sense the regret and guilt radiating from the man as you both gently spurred your mounts onward, careful to avoid any company that might take interest in robbing an injured man and his friend. You knew the both of you were well equipped to defend yourselves, but you'd much rather get Arthur back home and into your tent for a good clean-up and check over before running into anymore altercations.
As for Arthur, he hated the fact that you'd now see him bruised and beaten. He had no care in the world for anyone else to see him in such a state, but to have you witness the mess he'd got himself into... it made him recoil into his saddle, head hung to hide the disgust on his face - a disgust he felt for himself. "You goddamn fool." Was what he kept repeating to himself under his breath, though you could clearly pick up on those words unbeknownst to him.
While you were the gang's official medic, and you had treated the enforcers wounds in the past, Arthur more often than not would avoid camp for a few days after a bad beating and only return once he had somewhat recovered and the swelling had mostly gone down. In fact, it was a well known fact between all of the Van Der Linde gang members that Arthur would disappear after a fight, and they all knew exactly why he would, too. He simply could not face you in such a manner.
You always scolded him for hiding away, always questioning why he'd be so silly as to shy away from treatment, how his wounds could have become infected or how you could have cast any broken bones. Arthur admired your desire to treat him with every little bump and scratch you saw, how you'd emphasise your worry for his wellbeing whenever he'd return after hiding away. It seemed today of all days, when Arthur was the most bloody and bruised and covered in sheep excrement, was the day you'd finally be able to treat him good and proper, rather than run and hide from your presence.
"Who goes there?" John's raspy voice echoed from the treeline ahead of you both, the twinkle of a shotgun barrel catching your eye as you steadied Nimbus.
"Just me and Arthur, John." Waving your hand to grab John's attention, you offered him a welcoming smile, "How's those stitches holdin' up?"
"Just fine, thanks Y/n. Surprised to see Arthur with you there," John took a step forward, his face scrunching up with delight as he took one long glance at the dishevelled Outlaw upon his silver steed, "Dutch told us about the bust up you had in Valentine. Shouldn't you be off hidin' or somethin'?"
"Shut your face Marston." Arthur's tone was stale, cold and agitated once again as he narrowed those sharp turquoise eyes towards John. The two were brothers, not so much by blood, but they had both grown up together, raised by Dutch Van Der Linde and Hosea Matthews. It was only reasonable to assume they fought. A lot. Like brothers do.
Rolling your eyes, you decided to move on forward and leave the two men to throw snide remarks at one another.
The camp's lantern lights and lit firepits were a glow through the thick treeline now, and you could hear the nickering of content horses grazing on dry hay and the clashing of spoons against bowls from hungry men and women all getting their share of Pearson's stew, "Come on then, gotta get this one all cleaned up now that I finally have him," calling over your shoulder whilst wavering your hand towards a tense Arthur, you gave John a polite goodbye, reminding him to keep that wound clean as you left the amused Marston at his post.
Pushing through the treeline the first person you were greeted to was Karen. She had been fussing over her own horse, Old Belle, before setting her sights on you, "Y/n! Been wonderin' where you'd gotten yourself off to," and then Karen's expression lit up like a stoking fire, turning her attention to Arthur who had pushed through the foliage after you, steadying Pandora at her respective hitching post, "Oh and Arthur Morgan, too! What a surprise! Thought you'd have got yourself lost for a few days lookin' like that."
Arthur shot Karen a disgruntled stare, clearing his throat with a monotone, "Glad t'see you too, Miss Jones..."
"Bill told me what happened down at the Saloon, Dutch too." Karen added as she drew one last stroke down Old Belle's neck, earning a pleasant nicker from the elderly horse, "Said you got yerself into a full-on fist fight with the town's top dog. Said you looked a state after and oh boy! Williamson certainly wasn't tellin' tales!"
"Yes. Thank you Karen, for recounting the obvious... now, if you'll excuse me," Arthur wavered Karen off, barely allowing her the time to respond as he pushed past once he had hitched Pandora. He hadn't even given his poor mount the usual praises and strokes he would gift her after a long day on the road - not even a treat. You could hear the whinnies of disappointment rolling from the Fox Trotter as she cuffed a hoof along the dry earth below her.
Karen parted her jaw readying to throw out verbal retaliations to the man, but decided against it, turning her attention to you instead with a dumbfounded expression, "Wow. He really is in a bad mood, ain't he?"
"Yeah, he is. Probably 'cause he didn't get a chance to hide away from me this time... sorry Karen, I really should..." You beckoned towards Arthur who had now made it to the opposite end of camp into your medical tent and sat himself down onto one of the stools, rather unceremoniously, grunting in the process.
Karen stopped you with a flick of her hand, "Go tend to him, I'll settle Pandora. Y'best come find me after, though! Got plenty of Whisky to share round the fire tonight!"
"I'll hold you to that!" You called over your shoulder as you hurried off at the confirmation that you could leave, waving to the woman before you began stalking towards your tent.
Fingers fiddled anxiously together, practically tying themselves into knots as you came closer and closer to the busted Outlaw ahead of you.
Despite your professional approach, the reality was heavy against your shoulders. You'd known Arthur for years by this point, and still after all this time, after coming to terms with the impossible odds of calling Arthur your own, being so close to him still threw you off ballance... not necessarily in a bad way, but you could never truly get over those feelings you held for him.
You'd heard the term 'soulmates' from Mary-Beth once before around the small campfire that lie on the outskirts of camp, sharing one of her nauseating romance novels. You remembered how she spoke fondly of that term. 'Two people destined to be together,' she said, and then recalled how devastated she had been to announce that the main character in that novel she had been reading at the time had found their soulmate, but that particular opposing male character had not been 'ideally made for them,' not sharing that characteristic longing for the other. In fact, the man in said novel had found themselves their own 'soulmate,' leaving the main character heartbroken and alone.
Perhaps that was the reality you faced. Arthur was your soulmate, but to your understanding, Mary was Arthur's.
Nevertheless, you had to pull yourself together. You still had your close friendship with the Outlaw, and at this moment in time he was your patient awaiting your treatment.
You drew in a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and entered the tent.
"Hey you," you addressed the irritated Outlaw with a friendly smile, taking a few delicate steps across the small space inside the tent. It was a relatively large accommodation, able to fit your workspace in at one side as well as your belongings and bedroll on the opposite inside the canvas tarp walls. Above you both, hanging from a hook embedded into the wooden pole that held the roof of the tent upright was an oil lamp. You took the cold metal of the lamp into the palm of your hand and sparked a match you had retrieved from your pocket, the box held between your teeth so that you could strike the lighting strip. You swiftly held the tiny flame to the wick of the lamp, igniting it and watched on for a second longer to ensure the flame burst to life. Confident with the result, you flicked the dead match from your fingers through the slight opening of your tent curtains and took a seat opposite Arthur, your eyes settling on him.
Arthur was hiding behind his iconic leather hat, shifting uneasily when he realised you had sat, just by the lack of noise you were making once you settled down.
"Arthur..." You attempted to make contact, sitting forward ever so slightly with your elbows pressed against your kneecaps, chin nestled into the palms of your hands.
Arthur cocked his head down some more and tensed up, boots slowly dragging backward to bring his own knees closer towards him, shoulders hunched inward. He did not respond.
You'd never seen the man so anxious and deathly silent before. In fact, the sheer silence you were experiencing from him made you a little uncomfortable, but moreso worried. You had to at least convince him to talk, "Please, Arthur... I need to see you. I want to see you..."
"Why? You'll only be revolted by what you see..." Arthur finally responded, but his tone was low, subdued and perhaps even a little hoarse. Nevertheless, he remained seated and hiding still.
Off he went again, degrading himself. You'd heard it many times before, just in earshot though he'd never noticed you listening in. Whatever terrible self-image this man had pained you greatly.
Your brows knitted together, forming a collection of wrinkles upon your forehead. Your lips fell into a frown and your eyes darkened, heavy with sadness. Why couldn't Arthur see himself the way you saw him... "Well, firstly it's my job. I can't treat you unless I see where you're hurt, and secondly I won't be revolted."
A slight scoff came from the man. He teetered his head upwards, just slightly, but not enough for you to see his features, the shadow cast by his hat too dark to make out his face, "Why're you so sure? I'd turn tail and run if I saw me."
"But it's not you seeing yourself Arthur, it's me. Seeing you." You wanted so desperately to grab either side of Arthur's face, to hoist him up to look at you, deep into your eyes, to see the truth behind them as you spoke. That, however, was a bad idea for a number of reasons. You didn't want to piss Arthur off, and you most certainly didn't want to cause more harm than there already was.
"But-"
"Nuh-uh. Hush." You stopped the Cowboy before he could further degrade himself and drew yourself forward, hands outstretched and ready to grasp onto him.
Arthur attempted to pull back, but the twinge of seering hot pain that tore through his back held him in his previous position, a hiss escaping through his teeth.
"Look..." You began, mentally taking note of Arthur's backpain and began to gently fix his collar, cuffing off the dried mud from his shoulders next, "Whatever happens Arthur, I'll never leave. I promise. No matter what you do, how you look... why would I walk away from the person I care the most about?"
There was a brief pause from you as you sorted the twisted left suspender. Perhaps you had said too much? Sometimes you weren't as careful with your choice of words, and your secret feelings had almost been revealed a handful of times. You silently cursed yourself, chewing awkwardly at the inner flesh of your lip, hoping that such a sentence wouldn't invoke some sort of discomfort from the bust-up Outlaw.
Instead, Arthur perked up, eyes meeting your own despite the dark shadow that fell over them, "You care about me the most?"
His tone was curious, rather than disgusted. You let your shoulders lax, "Well, yeah. Of course! Who else would I come and tell my silly and embarrassing stories to round the fire?"
Arthur sensed you weren't quite telling your all, but decided against prying any further. The hope he had for you sharing the same complicated messy emotions that was dubbed most popularly as 'love' was overshadowed by the terror of rejection - even if you had just ensured him you'd never leave.
With a heavy sigh, Arthur let his guard down. His calloused fingertips met the rim of his hat, and despite a short hesitation, slowly removed it from his head. Whatever hair had been hidden underneath the expanse of said hat was now wildly sprung in various directions, some strands falling over those deep, turquoise eyes which met your own, wide and seeping with anxiety.
Arthur's face was relatively in tact, but his left eye was beginning to darken with deep blue-black bruising, and his nose was swollen to some extent. A few shallow cuts adorned his cheeks and forehead, and a single deep split weaped with blood on his top right lip.
Your first reaction was that, not of horror or revolt, but something completely opposite. Your brows rose into an arch, your mouth twisting into a bittersweet half-smile, "Thank you."
Sheer overwhelming emotion rushed over Arthur like a vicious flash flood, completely wiping out any expectation he had. You hadn't backed off, left and ran for your mount. You hadn't even shown an ounce of regret; you just smiled at him, and suddenly you were wiping your thumb ever so softly across his cheek, removing what he assumed had been fresh blood off of his cheekbone. However, when you pulled your hand back, the liquid resting upon your thumb was not that of crimson liquid, but clear salty water; tears... "Y-you really ain't bothered...?"
"Arthur Morgan. Why would I be? You're still as handsome as ever in my book," you shrugged nonchalantly, as if what you had just said was such a casual thought on your mind - which it was, truthfully.
Arthur choked up, drawing in a shaky breath in a feeble attempt to settle himself. He pressed the bridge of his nose only briefly, quickly retracting his hand at the sudden surge of pain. Guilt began to bubble within the pit of his stomach as he watched you collect a full pail of water from underneath the table beside you, a fresh washcloth in hand, "I'm real sorry..."
"Why are you apologising for?" You gave Arthur a half-amused, half-quizzical look as you gently began to wash away the grime and blood from Arthur's cheeks. His hot breath faltered against your wet lips, you were incredibly close, though you had to be to get a better judgement on how clean the wounds were.
"For not trustin' you sooner... I'm a real big fool..."
"No, Arthur. You're not. I don't think I'd be best pleased letting you see me all black and blue either," you pulled back for a short second to offer the man a reassuring smile, rinsing the washcloth and going back once more, chipping away at the dried blood that had crusted against Arthur's short beard, "Besides..." You paused, your eyes meeting Arthur's only just, and returned to cleaning the wounds. Your stomach knotted and your mouth almost went dry, but something deep inside you was forcing that question out of your throat, "I suppose Mary would still have you, even if you looked like this. She still sends you letters."
You had been the one to place the letter addressed to Arthur onto his bedside table a few weeks ago, when Arthur had been out exploring the Heartlands. You knew Mary Linton's handwriting. Arthur had shown you it many times before, in the past. It wasn't hard to make out the perfect cursive writing that danced along the white sheet of paper.
Arthur's expression darkened slightly at the mention of Mary Linton.
Perhaps you had spoken too much now. You felt yourself begin to panic, wondering if you had accidently touched a nerve. You knew that after such a messy breakup, Arthur didn't enjoy bringing Mary back up. But you had to know. You simply continued working at Arthur's injuries in an attempt to avoid confrontation.
"Y/n..."
"Sorry... I don't mean to bring her up I just... I was just curious, seein' her letter and all. I didn't read it! I just know her handwriting..." pulling back to throw the washcloth onto the ground, you turned your back to Arthur and began digging through what little stock you had left in your pantry. Hosea had kindly offered to make up some poultice earlier that day before you ventured out to look for some Yarrow, and lucky for you, it had been the poultice you needed. When you turned, you found yourself face to face with Arthur Morgan. He had shuffled closer now, close enough to be a mere inch away from your nose as he gazed at you.
"A-Arthur?"
"I ain't sweet on Mary no more."
"You aint?" Bewildered, you gave Arthur a few disbelieving blinks, breath hitched in the back of your throat.
How could he say that? Surely he was just trying to make you feel better? You'd seen him leave with that letter after reading it. He'd gone to see her...
"No." Arthur repeated, sighing softly at the fleeting memories, "I'll always have a soft spot for her, sure. But... I ain't sweet on her no more. Kinda... been sweet on someone else, actually." His hoarse awkward laugh drew a reddened blush from his cheeks as he attempted to look away from you out of embarrassment.
You felt your heart sink. If it wasn't Mary, then who else? It couldn't have been you. Perhaps it was Karen? Or Mary-Beth? Couldn't have been Tilly, the two were practically siblings. Maybe it was Charles? You couldn't be sure...
Arthur kept his gaze steadfast against the tent canvas, clearing his throat to break the uncomfortable silence. His jaws parted to say something, but no words came out.
"Let me rub this poultice in," you smiled awkwardly, attempting to settle the awkward atmosphere between you both, lifting the pulp twirling your hand to signal Arthur to sit back a little.
Arthur agreed, giving you a small nod and shut his eyes, allowing you to press and pack the mixture into his wounds. Gently moulding circles around the scratch above Arthur's brow, the Cowboy let out a hiss of discomfort at the ebbing throb and sting, causing you to apologise, promising you'll be gentler. Happy with that result, you moved onto Arthur's lip, carefully padding away at the wound with a pulp-smothered finger. The both of you held your breath. The feeling of Arthur's lips were surprisingly soft, all things concidered. They seemed dry, cracked and dehydrated, but in fact they felt soft and plump to the tough. The sensation made your heart jump.
"There, all done. See? Wasn't so bad now, was it?" You pulled yourself back and turned to pat your hand in the water pail beside you, removing the remaining poultice. When you turned back to study your works upon Arthur's face, jaw parted to tell him how brave he had been in an attempt to lighten the mood, Arthur was gone... "Arthur?"
You'd practically burst through the tent curtains into a now pitch black camp, only lit by the dancing ember flames of the campfires littered about the clearing, holding the enforcer's hat tightly in your grasp, "Arthur!"
"Woah, woah Y/n. Relax." It was Charles who came to your side. He had heard the commotion from the campfire close by, hands stuffed with a number of hand crafted poison arrows. A large hand found your shoulder to ground you, "You looking for Arthur?"
"Yeah, did you see him? I was just treating him, I'm not sure if I've completely finished yet - he just up and left before I got the chance to see..." There was a flitter of panic in your voice when you remembered you hadn't even checked the state of Arthur's body yet. He could still have wounds that needed attention.
Charles gave you a gentle smile, replacing a strand of hair behind your ear that had fallen out of place. He gave you a look of understanding, knowing that deep down, your worries didn't just lie with your work, but the feelings you had for the Outlaw. He knew how you felt, he could see it, but he wouldn't be one to start gossip. Charles pointed in the direction past Arthur's tent, "He went that way. I don't think he'd have gotten far, just follow that trail and you should find him."
Giving Charles a swift hug, you began to jog in the direction of Charles' pointed finger, "Thank you!" You called over your shoulder, not catching the look of awe on Charles face as he watched you go.
Not even a few minutes later, you found Arthur. Charles was right, he hadn't gotten far. In fact, Arthur had only made it a little ways off from camp, so much so you could still make out the flames through the treeline. He sat there, legs dangling over the edge of the Overlook, eyes studying the ground below that lead towards the Dakota River off in the distance.
"Arthur."
The Outlaw startled, giving you a not-so graceful look when you came forward, "Tryin' to scare me to death? That in your portfolio of medicine now?"
Although his tone was a little standoffish, you returned that blazen expression with a kind smile, coming to sit beside Arthur with his hat between your fingers, "You forgot your hat."
"Oh." Arthur shuffled awkwardly, taking back the leather cap to rest it against his kneecap, "Thank you."
"Why did you run off like that?" Your tone was delicate and forgiving, fingers coiling around the few grass strands that grew below your feet in an attempt to keep your mind busy.
Arthur gazed over at you for a brief moment, fingers trailing across the rim of his hat. He sighed softly, letting the misty breath escape his nostrils in a plume of white cloud, "Had somethin' on my mind, is all."
You let your gaze fall across the landscape ahead of you, the moon painting the crater below you both with a silver shimmer. Two Whitetail deer, a Doe and a Buck, came streaking out from the treeline to graze on the dew littered grass, "I'm all ears, if you need it."
Arthur had taken note of the deer below, too. A rare, genuine smile of content crossed his lips for a second. It was as if the mere sight of such creatures brought him peace, and the courage to speak his mind. He turned to face you, arm leaning against his thigh, "Remember the day I went to visit Mary? She was down at Valentine, rentin' a room for a couple a' days. She asked me to get her brother back."
Now your attention was on Arthur, that strand Charles had sorted earlier falling into your vision once again, "Jamie?"
Arthur hummed a confirmation, "Yeah, Jamie. Well, I went and got him from those Cherlonian folk, odd bunch... got him back to Mary at the station."
You remained silent, but listening all the same with a short nod.
"Well... Mary actually offered me to run away with her. To leave. There and then..."
You paused, shooting the Outlaw a curious yet confused gaze, "Why didn't you take it...?"
There was a long silence. Arthur's eyes focused on your own, his pupils blowing outward and his voice box riveting inside his throat as he swallowed thickly. There was a moment in which the two of you felt an emotion unlike any other. A chill in the wind that buffeted the strand of hair hanging limp across your left eye.
Your hearts thundered as one, and Arthur gently removed that strand and replaced it behind your ear again.
You felt yourself swallow hard, doe-eyed and intrigued.
With another drawn-in breath, Arthur met your gaze with purpose, taking your tiny hands into his oversized palms, sweaty and clammy with anxiety as they were. Despite his fear, it was now or never... he couldn't keep that secret hidden in the confines of his journal for much longer.
"Y/n... I...I'm sweet on you..."
Silence eloped the both of you for a moment. You were suddenly slack-jawed, eyes widening ever so slightly in disbelief.
"Those herbs you kept findin' on your desk? I collected 'em. The orchids? Me. That little golden pocket watch you said you loved? Went and got ya another one when I found out you lost your last one." Arthur muttered a little quieter than usual. He wanted so desperately to whip his hat back on, to obscure his face. He wanted to run, to charge to Pandora and run a thousand miles. He couldn't take another rejection, but he couldn't handle hiding the truth for much longer, either. He chewed at his lip, sweat forming upon his brow as he watched your expression evolve.
"I uh... I could jus' leave I... sorry for makin' you uncomfortable-" but before Arthur could leave, you struck.
Hands enveloped Arthur's face on either side. You were careful not to disturb any injuries whilst you pulled him back towards you. Finally, you let your lips meet his own.
Your lips were soft, sweet and tender, like honey on a rose bud.
His were rough, dry and intoxicating.
You both danced your lips together, so slow and inviting. It felt like you'd done this before, and it felt so right... as if you'd done this a thousand times before over the course of a thousand years. Large hands took your peach-fuzzed cheeks into their palms whilst your own smaller hands cupped the back of Arthur's neck, drawing tiny shapes across his sun-kissed skin.
Your dance lasted a short while longer until you pulled back, your lungs crying out for oxygen. Arthur too, panted heavily. His gentle gaze met yours, and you gave him a perfectly sweet giggle, the kind that you would make when relieved realisation would set in.
"So uh... was that part of the treatment then? Or..."
"Don't be silly," you scoffed playfully back at Arthur, batting his shoulder gently with a smirk, "That was genuine."
"Oh, good. Was worried that maybe I'd have to get myself beaten for another one." Arthur gave you a beautiful smile, one that creased his eyed and made his cheeks flush. The two of you exchanged a thousand looks, letting the serenity of the atmosphere just set in for a moment.
"Suppose this is the part where we talk things out and realise how foolish we've both been, dancin' round eachother all these years..." Arthur chuckled softly, tapping at his side with open arms to usher you into an embrace beside him.
You obliged happily, taking your stead in the comfort of his security, resting your head into the crease of Arthur's broad neck, "Should probably get some fresh clothes on ya. You're still muddy as hell."
Arthur took a glance down at his muddied clothes, a humorous smile dawning his features as he relaxed into you, "Yeah, probably should."
The pair of you relished the tranquility of the moment, allowing the serene moonlight to drown you in complete bliss. You hummed quietly, nuzzling deeper into Arthur's chest, appreciating the warmth that radiated from his bare skin where his shirt had unpopped.
"Ah-" Arthur chirped as though remembering something. He was careful not to disturb you, nestling his hand into the open flap of his satchel that sagged at his opposite side, "I found ya somethin'."
"Oh?" Interest piqued, you gazed over towards Arthur's hand which had now retrieved the gift. Clutched between his fingers was a small bouquet of red petal flowers.
Once you had finally realised just what these flowers were, you gasped with wide eyes and practically let out a squeal, "Arthur! That's Yarrow!"
"Sure is, sweetheart." Arthur felt his cheeks burn up at the sight of your bright-eyed expression, "Found it growin' on the outskirts of camp as we was comin' back, well hidden too. Didn't want Dutch kickin' up a fuss over it so... don't tell him I found 'em. Was all you."
"Oh Arthur- thank you! But I can't take all the credit," you took the Yarrow from Arthur and placed them down at your side, taking Arthur's hands into your own. You began pecking gentle kisses against his bruised knuckles and then to the soft flesh of his palm, "So..."
"Hmm?" Arthur pulled you back into a loving embrace, raising a brow in question.
Your mind thought back to the many years you'd spent smitten over Arthur, giggling halfly to yourself as you gazed upward into Arthur's sparkling ocean-eyes, so full of curiosity and excitement.
"About us bein' sweet on eachother all these years... Where did you wanna start?"
Request - S/O gets Arthur a dog despite Arthur reminding her that he doesn't need one. This results in Arthur doing literally everything together with his new companion!
(Okay so first and foremost THANK YOU SO MUCH for requesting! I've thought about taking requests for a while, so this will be my first official requested story! I did make some changes for instance the breed of dog is a Husky (I have a Husky as my camp dog Online!) And Arthur and Reader are not officially together by this point, rather they're pining for eachother. I hope that's okay! I apologise also if it's a little rushed ^^' Enjoy! And again a thousand thanks for enjoying my work and your wonderful complements!)
Man's Best Friend
Pairing - Arthur Morgan x F!reader
Summary - Your first trip to Valentine has you come across a young Siberian Husky after causing a ruckus inside the Saloon. With Arthur being rather displeased as of late, the idea of giving him some companionship proves to be one of the best ideas you've had to date.
Warnings - Suggestive themes of abuse, neglect is mentioned, blood and pain, depression, an animal in dispare (not physically injured.)
Notes - A shorter one of my write ups but one that was very enjoyable to write! I had this done within a few hours, had a creative burst but not sure how it turned out so I do apologise if it's a little rubbish ^^' I'd be more than happy to redo it soon enough!
Wordcount - 5000+
Pointers ->
writing like this means you are thinking to yourself.
'Writing like this' means that Arthur is writing this in his journal.
The bittersweet taste of aged Whisky remained upon the raspberry-pink skin of your lips some while after your last drink.
You were sat with your feet kicked up on the table in the centre of the scarcely busy Valentine Saloon at high noon, a half smoked cigarette hanging loosely between your right index and middle finger that rest idle upon your kneecap.
It was your first time here. You'd been instructed by Dutch to get some intel into the little livestock town without making your criminal life obvious.
So, slumped against the old creaking chair with an empty shot glass beside you, decided the play the role of a lonely women downing her stale life away with the sorrows of bitter tan-coloured liquid.
This was your best and easiest way to get information on little old Valentine; her weaknesses and strengths, where the law tended to lie, how she reacted to drunken violence... and, of course, who with enough silver in their pocket to line the skin of their teeth would pass through, if not dare to stay around Valentine from time to time.
This job was for you and you alone.
You were excellent with jobs like these, the sort where you had to keep your head low and play a persona. You were once a preformer afterall, one that spent your life on an epic stage and had your nimble fingers slip in and out of the richest pockets of the West during your shows, or rather... your fathers shows.
He had been the man to turn you into a degenerate thief and beat you when you were caught, but Dutch Van Der Linde and Hozier Matthews had taken you away from all of that, with Arthur Morgan giving your father a taste of his own medicine when you had been caught out one last time.
You'd attempted to rob Dutch that night, and it wasn't until the notorious gang leader caught you red handed and rather than out you to your father, offered you a chat to reason, did you snap and come clean about your father's abuse. That had been many years ago, now. Before Blackwater and back when the West was very much in the West; untamed and wild.
"Hey."
A sudden jolt sent you almost toppling backwards as the deep southern voice had you almost jump out of your skin. One large hand gripped onto the back of the chair that bowed and complained at the pressure you had put against it.
"Jesus Christ Arthur! Y'almost gave me a heart attack!" You sneered between your teeth, quietly. This had to be convincing, so you immediately reverted back to your performance, somewhat slurring your words and dragging your hand up against Arthur's muscular arm that still gripped onto the chair, perhaps a little more now that you were making physical contact with the man, "Can yer get me a drink mister? Get me a drink an' you can come perch a seat next t'me?"
Arthur understood what you were really suggesting, given the fact that you gave him a swift and discrete wink, "Uh- sure, miss. What's your poison?"
"Whisky. Always Whisky." You should know this, Mr Morgan.
As you watched Arthur stride over to the bar, you couldn't help but release a relieved sigh, rubbing your palms together that had began to sweat nervously.
You were sweet on Arthur Morgan, you had been for quite some time now, ever since getting into that mess back in Oregon. It hadn't been the ferry job, a little before that in fact. You and Arthur had been tasked with robbing the Oakwood Hotel, Dutch had heard of some strange business going on in the basement from a fellow in the Saloon a few nights prior, though neither of you could be sure on the validity of the claim. Still, despite Hozier's warnings, Dutch had you and Arthur go take a look.
Of course, Hozier was right and the tip off had been a trap set up by Colm O'driscoll himself. The feud between Dutch and Colm was beginning to boil, and it had resorted to making you and Arthur hostages in the cellar of a dank old Hotel.
You and Arthur were tied together, forced to hold hands with your bodies flush against eachother. There was no reason why the O'driscoll Boys had bound you both up like they did, you'd assumed it was to humiliate the both of you, but all it had done was ignite something within your stomach that you struggled to understand beforehand: your feelings towards Arthur.
Eventually you were both rescued, and Arthur had struggled to be around you for weeks after, but your friendship had rekindled eventually. From then on, you decided to lock away those feelings you held for the enforcer of the gang. It wasn't worth breaking your friendship... and the both of you were close, afterall.
"Here you are," Arthur had returned with two Whisky shots. Presumably the second had been for himself.
"Thank you good sir," You took the cold glass into your finger tips and leant forward, halfly to seem drunk and halfly to be able to quietly chat to Arthur without any earwigging or distractions, "What are you doing here? Dutch had me come alone,"
Arthur narrowed his eyes and came closer to your face, cradling the Whisky in his spare hand, "No thank you then? I came to make sure you was okay... been gone a while. Jus' got worried is all,"
Worried? Over me?
As Arthur spoke, you caught a brief scent of tobacco, whisky and mint upon his breath. It was maddening, making your fingers twist and contort in your semi-drunken state. Perhaps this should be your last Whisky... "Ah right... well I do appreciate you coming to check on me." You offered Arthur an innocent smile, the same one that softened your features and brightened your eyes. Arthur swallowed thickly and retreated to his whisky glass, listening as you spoke on, "All I've really found out is that this place is full of sheep shit, the Sheriff is unfaithful to his wife and there's this big brute of a man called Tommy here in the Saloon."
A brow rose slowly as Arthur finished his Whisky off, sucking on his tongue for a second to capture the last reminence of bitterness, "Not a very excitin' area then. Might be good for us, I guess, since we're supposed to be laying low."
You returned the reply with a shrug and a soft snort of amusement, "Dutch and lying low go as well as milk and honey. They don't mix."
"Don't let him hear you say that," Arthur had began to relax in your presence now, chuckling softly as he settled back into his hair, swirling the dribble of Whisky left in his glass.
"Anyway," You finished your own Whisky in one big gulp, practically chucking the glass down with a cheeky smirk, "What sort of errands has Dutch got you on? Noticed you've been away from camp a few times."
As you and Arthur began a quiet conversation between eachother over the various tasks the both of you had been on over the past few weeks, a sudden clatter caught the both of you off guard, followed by a loud yelp and the sound of a very aggressively sounding man. A flash of silver caught your eye, weaving through various legs and out of the Saloon doors.
"Goddamn mutt!" The barman rose his fist in anger, red faced and clearly pissed off.
You gave Arthur a curious gaze and the both of you stood, walking over to the bar where you hung back a little.
"The hell was that?" Arthur beckoned the man to answer with a wavering hand. You kept back, slowly becoming more and more interested as the barman described what could only be a 'small lookin' wolf or large lookin' rat' making a return to the Saloon every now and again for scraps.
Whilst Arthur attempted to twist the conversation into something more interesting, like what rich men took up residence around Valentine, you decided in your somewhat drunken state to investigate this supposedly overgrown rat.
You scampered outside, tensing your leg a little to feel the tug and pull of your leg holster concealed under your long black skirt - just to be sure it was still there. Fixing your black shirt and pulling your velvety gambler hat over your eyes, you followed the obvious paw prints around the back of the Saloon and into the darkest section of a pig pen.
Surely the beast had to be here... drunken curiosity was pulling you forward, forward, forward until-
A loud yelp and bark had you almost slip onto your arse. The setting sun cast an orange strip of light through the spaced out wood and onto the snout of a grey and white face, crystal blue eyes shining back at you. Then, the whimpering came, and paws began pushing the creature deeper into the corner.
"My god..." You whispered to yourself as your eyes adjusted. In front of you lie a terrified young Siberian Husky, it's backside caked in thick mud. Due to the long fur being plastered back, it made it easier to see how starved the poor thing was.
"Hey... shh there, it's okay little one, I ain't here to hurt ya," You lifted a hand and brought it forward. The Husky lurched deeper into the dark with a soft yelp.
Poor thing is terrified! What the hell happened to you little guy?
Then you had an idea. Your hand snaked into your satchel and eventually pulled out a chunk of precooked venison from earlier. You brought your hand forward again and dropped the chunk onto the floor, not wanting to risk a devilishly hungry canine to snap your fingers off trying to get to the meat.
Slowly, the Husky pulled its head forward and took the meat. It had taken three bites to demolish the venison completely, "Wow. You're super hungry, aren't you?"
It had taken a few more bits of food from your satchel, but eventually the Husky began to come forward. It's dry nose twitched as it cake closer to take your scent, and then it pushed itself into your hand, "There, see? I ain't so scary, am I?"
"Y/n!" Arthur's voice once again took you by surprise and in turn spooked the Husky, the poor creature yelping and scurrying off underneath a broken slat to charge into the bushline ahead of the pig pen.
You let out a defeated sigh and stood up to see Arthur giving you a dreadfully confused expression, "The hell you doin' in a pig pen, darlin'?"
Perhaps I should get outta here...
Before long, both you and Arthur had set off back to Horseshoe Overlook. You had scraped the reminence of mud and pig shit off of your pointed boots and mounted onto your grey Gypsy Cob, keeping up a steady pace with Arthur who rode on the black and white patched Kentucky Saddler he had taken from Mrs Adlers previous abode back in the mountains.
Once you returned, you made your way towards Dutch's tent. The sun had hidden behind the horizon but there was just about enough light to justify talking to Dutch before he called it a night. It was a rather quick conversation, nothing much was to report other than the Sheriff's infidelity and the possibility of some rich folk on the train coming through the town but you couldn't say when.
Then, as you exited Dutch's tent, you were met with Arthur stood waiting for you, a small smile forming on his lips as he tipped his head for you to follow over to the campfire.
"Thought you might be hungry," Arthur settled onto the log, tapping his hand next to him beckoning you to sit beside him.
"Starved." You slumped down next to Arthur's side with a little giggle, feeling your cheeks burn at the kind gesture as he offered you a bowl of Pearson's stew. Luckily the amber glow of the fire would mask it, "Thank you."
"So," Arthur began, taking a small mouthful of stew before continuing, "You never told me what you was doin' in that pig pen."
Arthur's words pulled a snort from you, which had you almost choke on a chunk of potato. Arthur was quick to check you over, but you waved him away with an amused snigger, "I'm okay- I'm alright-"
"Sure?"
"As sure as the sun will rise tomorrow." You offered a little smile once again, now the flames of the fire practically turning those irises of yours into a dancing explosion of colour that had Arthur painfully chew down onto the inside flesh of his lip, as to not allow you to see it.
"Say, How'd you like a new companion?" Your question was sudden and a little baffling. Arthur simply glared at you, trying to figure out just where this subject had come from in your conversation, but he had nothing. He simply blinker a few times and twisted his lip in confusion, "What you mean...?"
You shrugged, taking another mouthful of soup, "Well I've noticed you get pretty lonely when I'm not around," a devilish smirk formed upon your lips and your eyes narrowed to an even more baffled Arthur Morgan.
You could've sworn you even saw a blush forming upon his cheeks, the fire unable to hide the darkening colour, pulling a rather bombastic "I don't need no mothering woman!" From his lips, earning a rather loud laugh from your lungs.
"Oh Arthur I'm only pulling your leg!"
"Y'aint pulling my leg?"
"...Nevermind. Anyway," you took another mouthful, feeling the presence of Arthur's body now much closer, "I was being serious about a companion. All this running from the law, watching our friends get shot and killed... it's a lot."
Arthur remained silent as he finished up his stew, allowing you to continue, "I just thought it'd be nice if you had, I don't know... a dog, or somethin'."
The suggestion suddenly made Arthur jolt and scramble to capture the bowl he almost dropped into the fire, eyes wide as he snapped his attention to you, "A dog? Y/n... I don't need a dog."
"Why not?" You love dogs and cats and everything animal... unless its snakes or crocs, I guess. Or big cats or bears- oh, nevermind.
"I ain't replacing Copper." Arthur was now on his feet and stalking away from you. You hadn't irritated him, he wasn't trying to escape you, because he returned once he'd put the bowls into a soak bowl, and sat back down beside you, "I can't."
"Arthur..." your hand twitched and rose slightly, halfly attempting to brush against and rest on top of Arthur's, but stopped midway, "Copper's been gone over a year, now. You've been pretty secluded since he passed. D'you know how many times I've caught you staring into space in your tent?"
Arthur pursed his lips together and sighed heavily out of his nostrils, his head tilting away from yours to glance elsewhere. It took a moment, but eventually he replied, "I can't replace him, Y/n. I really appreciate your suggestion but I couldn't possibly have another dog. I don't need one. I'll make 'em miserable. Or scare 'em. Someone like me, someone bad, ain't meant to have animals as innocent as dogs can be. I ain't a good man, I'll be no good to a dog."
You ain't scary... you won't make that dog miserable. You'll see... I promise you, Arthur Morgan. You just need something to show you unconditional love.
Your conversation with Arthur about the dog had fizzled into the night, and the both of you shared general chit chat until you began rocking forward, threating to fall into the fire as you began to fall asleep sat upright. Arthur had to catch you, lifting you into his arms to place you upon your bedroll as you slept. It had been a long day and the Whisky had left your system, leaving you incredibly fatigued. Once you settled in your bedroll, Arthur gave you a warm smile. For the smallest, most brief of seconds he edged forward, eyes gazing at your forehead. He felt his lips twitch, but eventually he backed away, closing the curtains of your tent and retreated to his own.
Morning had broke, and so had your headache. It was grueling, forcing you to drag yourself out of your tent and stumble towards some fresh water, downing a cup of the clear liquid with one fell swoop.
Once you had collected your senses you slumped down onto a table alongside Hozier, quietly asking the fatherly figure if he had any headache remedies. Hozier gave you a friendly smile and noted how Dutch's suggestion yesterday had left you feeling drab, mustering up a pulp of various plants before offering you the remedy.
With that out of the way, you said your goodbyes to Hozier and gazed towards the enterance to Horseshoe, a determined expression against your face.
Arthur was next to wake. Though he wasn't harboring a terrible headache like you, he did feel the need to stumble from his cot and make his way towards the freshly brewed coffee, practically bumping into Hozier as he too had made his way to the coffee.
"Hozier." Arthur gestured a welcoming smile as he tipped his cup upwards.
"Morning, Arthur." Hozier repeated the gesture, "I see you got Miss Y/n back in one piece yesterday?"
"Yeah, her idea of 'not obvious' was to drink a load of Whisky. Dare I say it worked. Where is Y/n anyway? She ain't in her tent," Arthur took a secondary glance over his shoulder to be sure he couldn't see you, pulling a cheerful smile from Hozier's lips.
"You checked?"
"Well ye- uhm. No. Just noticed when I went past." Arthur cuffed his boot along the dusty floor, clearing his throat as he looked down.
"Her tent is on the other side of camp, Arthur. And I know when you're lying, you're doing it now, lookin' down at your feet!" Hozier rasped a laughing cough, taking a sip of coffee to soothe his throat and gave Arthur a little slap on the shoulder. Arthur's eyes flickered towards Hozier and back down, his hand gripping onto the cup some more before taking another swig, "Okay- so... where is she?"
"Went out to find something 'important', not sure what. She just told me to tell you she'd be back soon if you asked." Hozier took the last drops of coffee into his mouth and waved Arthur off, sitting back down into his designated wooden chair, newspaper in hand. Arthur let out a gentle sigh, throwing the rest of his coffee and retreated back to his tent, slumping into his own chair with arms resting on the table surface, unfolding his journal onto a clear page.
'Been a confusing few weeks running from Blackwater and all that mess.
Came to a new little town by the name of Valentine. Nothing special so far, just livestock and degenerates who are just trying to get by.
Y/n got sent out by Dutch to do some digging yesterday. She was gone hours, perhaps even half the damn day. Had to check on her, no ones orders, just my own. Couldn't have her hurt or worse... not on my watch. Anyway, found her acting as a drunk at the big Saloon on the main street. Their Whisky is good I guess, so much so I found Y/n acting all shifty in a pig pen of all things. Took her home, got chatting by the fire and she tells me she thinks I should get a dog. Baffled me, to be honest. I've missed that sort of companionship but Copper... it's been over a year but I still can't help but think I'd be replacing him. Who knows, maybe one day a dog might just land on my feet and remind me of all the good times me and Copper had.
Well, after that, took Y/n to bed. She was out of it by midnight, that Whisky sure did a number on her. Just hope she doesn't get herself into anymore trouble, silly thing. If I could make sure she was safe twenty four hours a day then I'd be a happier man. Apart from that, I'm always worrying.'
"Arthur!"
"Mary-Beth? What's the matter?" Arthur swiftly snapped his ledger shut, placing his pencil down and gazed upward with wide, bright eyes.
Mary-Beth had sauntered over, messing with her hair that was half up. She'd clearly just woke, but she was teeming with excitement, "Y/n told me to tell you that she wants you to meet her outside! You know where the treeline breaks into grassland!"
Arthur pouted, confused for a moment and stood, slipping his journal into his satchel. He parted his jaws to question Mary-Beth but by that point she had disappeared. So, he had no other choice. Arthur slipped his jacket over his shoulders and made his way through the treeline. There was no need to take a horse.
"Y/n?" His voice echoed through the treeline. No response. He came to the break in the treeline, shielding his eyes from the morning sunlight, "Y/n!"
Arthur felt the wind leave his lungs as he was pounced, slamming onto the hard floor with a rather gruff 'Oof'. There was a brief ringing in his ears, suddenly coming round to reality again to the feeling of a rough tongue brushing against his cheek, the sound of panting rumbling against his ear and the cheerful laughter of you just some ways away.
"The hell!-"
"Here boy! Heel!" You gave the order, and whatever had knocked Arthur retreated to your side.
Arthur pulled himself up, dazed. He coughed a little, rubbing his eyes and took one look at the creature sat at your feet...
"Arthur... meet your new companion! Now I know you said you didn't want another dog but I found this little guy yesterday hiding in the pig pen. That's why I was there. He was so hungry and mucky I couldn't just leave him, he's so sweet and so loy-"
"Y/n!" Arthur must have called your name five times by now, though the fifth and final attempt had finally gotten through to you. Blinking, you slowly closed your mouth and felt a blush begin to form, one you couldn't hide. Not this time... "Yes?"
Arthur was now on his knees, hands brushing through the now clean, long and silvery coat of the Husky. His eyes were wide with curiosity, jaw slightly parted in a silent gasp, "Y'got me a dog..."
"I did," You felt yourself sink a little, nervous that Arthur may not like the dog afterall. It was nerve-wracking.
"Y/n I- I don't know what to say..." Arthur felt himself gazing at the Husky with intent. Part of him wanted to run; this creature wouldn't bode well in the presence of a mad man. Yet... those eyes of a creature so innocent and so relaxed around him... it drew Arthur in. He was intrigued. The panic be once had suddenly seeped away. Suddenly, this dog that stood in front of him began to excite him. Emotions ran high, and Arthur began to smile. He had a dog.
"This why you asked me about a dog yesterday, isn't it?"
"To be honest, I've been thinking about it for a while. Just so happens that this little guy needed a good partner, and I knew you'd be the perfect one." Your hands were fiddling with eachother, drawing circles around each knuckle anxiously. You weren't sure how Arthur would react. You just wanted the man to be happy, he'd been through a lot these past few weeks. Perhaps having a companion to care for would set things straight, or at least to an extent. Arthur loved Copper dearly, and you knew Arthur had a lot of love to give.
Arthur, continuing to brush his hands through the Husky's coat, gazed up at you with questioning eyes, "What makes you say I'm any good?" Despite his excitement, he still doubted himself.
You shifted uncomfortably. What a question... how would you respond, exactly? You couldn't just speak the truth, that would give your feelings away like a firework in a dark sky, "I uh..." You swallowed. Hard. Almost painfully. "I notice things. You were real sweet and loving with Copper, he was a happy dog. I knew you'd treat this little one right. Looks like he's been mistreated... looks like a young one too."
Your observations didn't go unnoticed by Arthur. The toughened Outlaw frowned, tilting his head slightly and repeating those words in his head. 'Mistreated', 'young'... Arthur drew a finger across the brim of his hat, the hat who had once belonged to Lyle Morgan. A shudder swept through Arthur's spine as he shut his eyes tightly, pursing his lips and let out a sigh, before returning his gaze to the Husky, "Don't worry boy, I'll look after yer. I'll make sure no one ever hurts you again."
Finally the relief you'd been waiting for. Arthur brought the dog into a kind embrace, not too heavy but enough to calm the creature. Your short work on at least training the Husky a few tricks on the short time you were away had definitely come in handy. Huskies were clever dogs afterall... and despite the mistreatment, the dog seemed to warm to Arthur instantaneously. A tell tale sign of Arthur's good nature... despite what he must have thought about himself.
See Arthur? Dogs can see the good in people and the bad in others. You're a good man. This one knows it.
"Got any names yet?" You questioned as you took a step back to allow the two some time together.
"Well I've only known him five minutes." Arthur teased, giving the Husky a good scratch behind the ear before earning access to his belly,
"But... I'm thinking Ace."
A week had passed as quick as the blink of an eye. Every morning you woke, you found that Arthur had disappeared from camp alongside Ace.
Hozier would catch you wandering around aimlessly trying to spot any signs and tell you that Arthur had gone out to spent time with his new companion. One afternoon, you caught Ace returning with a reddened muzzle, Arthur not far behind him. It was said that Ace had caught out an O'driscoll attempting to attack Arthur from behind, and Arthur's loyal companion had sunk his teeth deeply into the flesh of the squealing man's thigh, only releasing on Arthur's command.
Another day you had spotted Arthur returning with a satchel full of fish, Ace carrying a mouthful as well.
Even on your little wanders around New Hanover were you joined by Arthur and Ace, he'd even taught the Husky how to lie upon his horses back on longer journeys. No matter where Arthur went, he'd have Ace follow.
And I thought you said you didn't need a dog, Mr Morgan?
"Hey,"
Arthur gazed up from his place upon the log next to the campfire. The moon was hung high into the midnight sky, and Arthur shuffled over to offer you a place beside him.
"How's Ace?" You settled beside him with a soft smile, gazing between Arthur's legs to spot a sound asleep Ace, paws holding down a bone he had been chewing previously, "Doin' great."
You didn't need to reply. You just sat there, beside Arthur, completely content and happy. Ace had brought a smile back to the Outlaw's face that had been missing for almost an entire year.
"I uh... I didn't get the chance to say thank you."
Your attention flicked to Arthur, "Oh that ain't necessary, Arthur. Trust me, you don't need to thank me."
"But I do." Arthur insisted.
The once cold temperature of your skin was suddenly heated by two warm, large hands cupping them together. You were quick to investigate but not once pulled away, feeling the pit of your stomach swirl and bubble with the strangest of emotions.
"You didn't let my stubbornness get in the way. Y'still went out there and got me a dog... a beautiful one, no less. I don't know how I'm gonna make it up t'you, but I will." Arthur gripped a little more, and for once in your life, you saw him smile first. Smile a smile that was of pure relaxation, content and happiness. Usually, he would be too scared to be the first to show emotions, worried that his strong enforcer persona would seem like a farce. Worry that his seemingly softening nature would make the rest of the gang feel vulnerable without such a hard headed man to protect them... but you knew Arthur. His kindness, his softness and his vulnerability to love made him far more dangerous than he assumed. When you have something to lose, you'll fight with every fibre of your being to keep it there.
Alive.
Well.
Even at the cost of your own life.
You felt your throat constrict as you swallowed, "A-Arthur I... you don't have to-"
"I do. Let me. Please." Those magnificent, beautiful and intoxicating eyes gazed deeply into your own. You couldn't respond, you felt locked in a trance. So, you simply gave Arthur a slow nod.
With that, Arthur smiled brightly, so much so that it seemed as though he would burst. Then you felt him release your hands and wrap his arms around you, squeezing you tightly, and just before Arthur got up and retired to his tent, he left you with a gentle kiss to the cheek.
You sat there, speechless. Arthur had left now, waving you a goodnight as he beckoned Ace alongside him. Your heart was thundering and your mouth as dry as bone. He'd kissed you... on the cheek, yes but it was a kiss no less. It was emotion. An emotion you'd never experienced with Arthur before. Perhaps... there was hope yet.
Arthur pulled his tent curtains shut, his stomach twisting and his eyes widened with surprise. He had just kissed you and he had no idea why. Well- he did... but he wasn't sure what had came over him at that moment. He was frightened that such acts would push you away. He was certain you harbored no feelings towards him but friendship... he needed to pour this onto paper. Coaxing his lantern to brighten, he placed it down upon the table, taking out his journal from his satchel and sat, pencil in hand.
'Been a whole week since Y/n brought me Ace, and what a wonderful week it has been.
Ace is a stunning dog, a Husky I think from what Y/n was saying. Ace is loyal to the bone and as clever as a person, I couldn't have asked for much more. The clever thing can catch fish (no more questioning me, Dutch!) Catch small game like Rabbits, Squirrels, Chipmunks, you name it. If it's small enough to fit in Ace's mouth, he can catch it.
Besides that... what a fool I've been to Y/n.
Tonight we shared some peaceful moments by the campfire. I promised her I'd make it up to her (getting Ace for me) and in my foolish excitement I kissed her on the cheek. She must think I'm some big creep who can't keep his hands to himself. Truth be told... been sweet on her many a moon. Can't tell her that though, she would run off and I wouldn't blame her. Can't blame her. What a curse it is to love and have a face like mine... I just hope my foolish, childish behavior hasn't spoilt our friendship. Don't know what I'd do with myself if I'd lost that. I just hope and pray she never reads these words, for if she does, I'm afraid she would terrify and run, never to be seen again.
Like I said. I don't blame her.'
Arthur settled back in his chair, shutting the journal and slipped it underneath his satchel. He frowned, brushing a hand across his thin stubble before turning his attention to a whining Ace, the dog pawing at Arthur's leg with ears pinned upward with curiosity.
"Ah I'm alright boy," Arthur combed his fingers through Ace's thick hair, planting a gentle kiss against his forehead before moving from his chair to the cot. Arthur stripped down to his union suit, beckoning Ace up.
Ace lept up onto the cot, tail wagging furiously as he circled to lie in the curvature of Arthur's stomach. He nuzzled his head against Arthur's splayed out shoulder, giving him a single lick.
"Tha's a boy... thank you." And with that, Arthur began to drift into a deep slumber. His dreams were pleasant that night. Within them, he came to be by your side, hand in hand, blushing widly with Ace barking playfully around your feet.
Here, where slumber was quiet and dreams were reserved for one, Arthur could be happy. Arthur could be with you.
Synopsis - Weeks have passed since Bodecia's passing. Arthur Morgan, now mountless, has been borrowing the gang's horses from Taima to your own ever since. Having just escaped the perils of Colter's chill and making anew at Horseshoe Overlook, you can't help but remember the beautiful white mare you had crossed whilst out on the hunt up in the mountains. Perhaps the perfect mount for the perfect Outlaw.
Pairing - Arthur Morgan x F!reader
Wordcount - 8900+ (Long read, seeing as I'm good at overdoing it ^^')
Pointers - Newly established relationship, a whole load of fluff, swearing, a little bit of pain here and there (nobody said horses were easy to tame!)
Notes - Probably one of my more tame and calmer readings, and one I thoroughly enjoyed writing up! I wrote this over a number of days just out of bordem so u apologise if it's a little sloppy.
Some perilous weeks had passed since Colter; the snow and chilling winds were something you'd rather forget now that the Van Der Linde gang had settled at their new homestead, Horseshoe Overlook.
The cliff ledge from which Dutch had placed his boot upon and claimed as his own was a gorgeous little stretch of land, overhanging the beautiful forested section of the Dakota River, its promise of plentiful fish well known by the constant splashing of Blue Gill, making an easy meal of the insects that skimmed the river surface during warm golden evenings. A thicket of fir trees obscured the camp from curious eyes and ongoers that rode too close and beyond that was the vast Heartlands - a beautiful stretch of lush grassland that went on further than the eye could see, rich with various game such as Whitetail Deer and Pronghorn, as well as the occasional Buffalo herd.
You sat idle on the outskirts of camp at the overhang, fiddling around with your hunting blade, allowing the gentle breeze to caress the soft fuzz of your rosy pink cheeks, your bright eyes meeting the snowy peaks of the mountain ranges in the far distance. You took in a settled breath, bending over slightly to investigate the treeline below.
As you peered over the ledge of the cliffside curiously, legs swaying lazily over the edge, you felt a sudden catch of cold wind furrow your face and neck, managing to wriggle its way down your shirt like a frozen snake.
Such a breeze gave you an awful memory, your spine tingling...
It was a hauntingly accurate reminder of recent events; the torment of Arambino's unforgiving landscapes within such a seemingly stunning state.
Lucky for you that you had been in a shirt and pants to shield your frostbitten skin from most of the cold, and not a loose dress or skirt, unlike the other women in camp.
Whilst you still dawned a more feminine look to your fabrics that you chose to sport, you much preferred to be clothed in skin-tight pants over the usual skirt or dress that a women of your age was expected to dress in. Your attire comprised a black button-up shirt, light grey pants, white suspenders, a loaded oak brown gunbelt that seemingly never went short on bullets, thick riding boots for long taxing horse rides and a pleasant black gamblers hat. It was unique given the time period, but you felt comfortable and nobody but Micah Bell seemed to care.
Another gust of wind threatened to have you shiver so violently you might have toppled over the edge, so you pulled yourself away for safe keeping, sheathing your knife back into it's holster upon your gunbelt and settled back into your recently constructed tent.
It was quaint, just enough room for your bedroll and a chest for your belongings alongside a small bedside table where you stashed your most prized and precious mementos.
You let out a grunt as you flopped onto the bedroll, your back hitting the fabric with a soft thud. Then your head fell to the side, meeting the bedside table beside you where a collection of photos you'd collected over the years were nailed tight to the oak surface. Your eyes grazed across one such picture that you had pinned onto the side of the wood; you were seated on top of a handsome stallion, beside you stood another equine, a little larger than your own with darker features and white flecks.
You could tell by the way the greys toned out darker on that particular horse over your own. Sat, mounted on top of that horse beside you was none other than Arthur Morgan himself. He was significantly younger, perhaps in his early twenties, as was yourself. You both dawned the brightest of smiles, hands bound in leather reins.
Your mind skipped back to that day so long ago: the day you broke your own horses in the vast countryside of the Wild West, opposed to buying or borrowing mounts.
A gentle sigh escaped your jaw as you rest your eyes upon Arthur's mare, sadness clouding your expression.
"Oh, Boadecia..."
It had only been a few weeks but the memories were still awfully fresh. Boadecia had been Arthur's first true mount, a beautiful Silver Dapple Pinto female. She was most certainly a fine horse, one that could outmatch any of her opponents in speed and strength. She had even taken out a charging Cougar with one fatal kick after it had decided to try and make a meal out of Arthur. That horse was as loyal as the sun was to moon for the big burly Outlaw, and her passing had been a tragic loss for him. Arthur hadn't chosen another mount since, and it had been weeks. Perhaps even a month or so. It was as if choosing a new mount terrified him, or perhaps he didn't want to feel as though he was replacing Boadecia.
Arthur had been going between the members horses since her passing, though he much preferred to ask you and Charles on borrowing your mount Sundance or Taima, Charles' mare, over others such as Old Bill or Silver Dollar.
Today had been no different.
Slowly pulling your gaze away from the photo you decided to sit up and begin rolling the tips of your fingers into the burning muscles upon your legs to relax your aching calfs, still sore and complaining after a hard days work. You were just about to kick your riding boots off when the sound of thundering hooves caught your attention. You pulled yourself to the edge of your tent curtains, eyes scanning the clearing to where the horses were hitched.
Appearing through the treeline was a flash of light gold, bright white hair draped from the equine's neck and it's oak-brown leather reins stiffened and strained slightly signalling for it to come to a hault. You didn't have to look twice, you could recognise that animal from anywhere: Sundance your stallion had returned, and with him, Arthur Morgan.
You watched curiously as Arthur dismounted, throwing the leather strap over the hitching post before taking great care of cooing your horse praises and offering him a healthy looking carrot.
You most certainly admired Arthur's way with the horses. He may be a notoriously terrifying man, one that could quite simply bring you to an early grave just by pressing you with a single finger, but his gentle nature towards animals of all kinds was something you appreciated - one of the many reasons you had fallen for him and took him as your partner.
Your relationship though still very young had been brewing between the two of you for many years. You had grown up together, faced a plethora of different life threatening circumstances and had always pulled through. You understood one another in such a way that no one else could and had a connection with eachother that was almost telepathic. Whatever one of you was planning, the other knew. If you were in danger, Arthur would know something was off, vice versa. You were, together, an unstoppable force of nature and not to be reckoned with so help anyone who attempted to stand in your way.
"Mr Morgan." You gave Arthur a welcoming smile as he came trotting towards your tent, careful not to have anyone catch onto his return so that he wouldn't be pulled away from a chance to spend some quality time with you.
"Miss Y/l/n," Arthur returned your greeting, gently ushering himself inside to take a seat beside you, Arthur kicked back the tent curtain and settled onto your bedroll, grimacing at the texture of the solid floor below, halfly muttering to himself, "I ought to ask Miss Grimshaw if she can get you your own cot. Better yet get her to move you in with me."
By the flush of his face and somewhat gentle panting you could tell he'd been busy. Even the faint specks of dirt and dust on his cheeks told you that he had most likely gotten himself into a scuffle.
You rolled your eyes, amused and curiously questioned Arthur, "So, how was your ride home?"
"Went alright, I suppose." Arthur's response was tiresome as he beckoned you to shuffle against him, though you shook your head and placed a hand against his face to pull him onto your own shoulder - it was he who was tired, not you, and your gesture to offer him a resting place upon you pulled a smile from his lips in gratitude.
"Just 'alright'? You sure? Cause the muck on your face ain't convincing me, Arthur Morgan." You emphasised with a smirk, knowing that the use of his entire name would tell him he was in for a scolding if he didn't come clean now.
Sighing heavily in defeat, Arthur finally replied, shifting against your shoulder awkwardly: "Oh-kay fine... Some O'driscoll fella tried pissin' me off."
"And by the looks of things..."
"They managed." Arthur responded quickly, subconsciously placing a hand against his right cheek to massage the reminence of an ache away.
You simply clicked your tongue, a brow raised as you began to slowly card open fingers through the Outlaw's soft dirty blonde hair, "Well, I can't argue. He was an O'driscoll, to hell with it! The man deserved a good smack."
"Beatin' more like." Arthur replied with a small chuckle, relaxing into you as you continued to brush through his hair.
Your eyes met a few discarded creamy hairs attached to the collar of Arthur's shirt, gently picking at them and flicking them onto the floor, "How'd Sundance treat ya?"
"Treated me well. He knows how to give a good buck." You could hear the amused pride in Arthur's voice.
"To the arse?"
"Yep. Had the O'driscoll running for the hills till the adrenaline wore off. Pretty sure he broke their pelvis or somethin'." Arthur smirked, briefly remembering how he had dismounted Sundance to land a few hearty beatings to the O'driscolls nose before the stallion had paced over in a frantic whinny, his hind legs raising to then give a strong buck outwards, back hooves connecting with the O'driscolls rear earning a loud crack at the point of connection. He had sent the man almost five foot into the air, dragging out an amused laughter from Arthur who watched on as the O'driscoll managed a couple of feet before collapsing - writhing in a ball of agony before passing out.
"He's quite the horse." Arthur managed to force out through a yawn as he shuffled to get comfier against you. You quietly hummed in agreement, letting your head fall against Arthur's. As your head twisted to the side, your eyes caught sight of the image of Boadecia again. You frowned, gently whispering, "As was Boadecia."
Arthur froze for a second. You felt the tense of his muscles against your neck and body. You wondered if you'd accidently hit a nerve from the way Arthur remained deathly silent, panic began to bubble within the deepest pit of your stomach and your fingers began to curl.
"She was a darlin'." He finally responded, taking your small hands into his own, a thumb gently caressing the soft skin on the back of one of your appendages. He knew you too well, "Y'know you don't have to feel like y'can't talk about her. Can tell you were worryin' cause you fidget."
"I just don't wanna upset ya is all." You brought your hand from Arthur's and tenderly caressed his cheek, your thumb brushing over the thin line of stubble, "She was a stunning horse, you haven't even put a thought on getting another mount yet."
Your side suddenly felt cold when Arthur sat up, removing himself from your embrace to turn and face you head on. He gazed down at you sadly, closing the distance between you both as your head pressed against his own, eyes closed as you breathed his aura in, the tip of his nose gently tapping yours.
"Only time you'll upset me darlin' is if you get hurt and I wasn't there to protect ya." He placed a gentle feather-soft kiss against your half open lips, "Guess I haven't found the right horse yet."
With another light loving kiss from yourself this time, you brought Arthur further down to rest upon your bedroll. The both of you settled, bringing yourselves impossibly close, legs coiling around eachothers like a tangled of ivy or a pit of snakes. Once you got yourself comfortable, you pecked the crown of Arthur's hair, sighing into it, "Well, we'll see about that. I think I might have a few things in mind."
Some days had passed since your conversation with Arthur. He had gone out on many trips upon your mount since then, leaving you to tend to duties around camp or take the wagon into Valentine for a quick trip of pickpocketing.
You had allowed it, afterall.
Arthur had asked for your permission the other night. He would have never taken your mount if he knew you staying around camp would drive you mad, but instead it was a nice break from Dutch's incessant hounding about needing money or creating more outlandish plans.
It was another fresh morning upon Horseshoe Overlook. Dew drops scattered the grass shoots that danced around your feet, tiny glistening rainbows that sparkled as the light caught them. A thin blanket of mist tickled the back of your throat as you took in a deep breath, pushing your way towards the edge of the Overlook and away from the warmth of the coffee pot you mulled over previously that dawn.
You passed John who had been sat back upon a wooden chair, his feet kicked up upon the table in front of him with his own coffee in hand. You gave the man a little hand gesture in greeting as you went past, only to hear Miss Grimshaw bark an insult at the man for having his feet on the table. Something along the lines of, "Would ya shit where ya eat, Marston? No? Then get your god damn feet off the god damn table!" Earning a rather high pitched squeal from John once the sound of a flinging shoe wafted through the air. You turned to see John scampering off, Grimshaw in hot pursuit with her heel in hand. You let out a snort of amusement, shaking your head.
You passed Charles next, who had already started on the daily routine of cutting wood. He gave you a soft smile and wave as you passed on by, greeting him with a "Mornin' Charles."
As you advanced to near the edge of the overlook you recognised the head of Hosea perched neatly on top of a smooth rock that acted as a pleasant little seat, overlooking the forest below.
The devious old con-man was flicking through the ledger that the gang used for keeping track of payments and contributions.
Your shadow had loomed over him some time ago before you had even come to his side, drawing a soft "Good morning," from his tired lips.
"Hosea," you now paused beside him, your eyes scanning the woodland below the Overlook, "How's things?"
"So, so. The usual, if it were. I'm stiff as a log and as bored as a caged animal." There was a hint of amusement in Hozier's tone as he turned to face you, smiling softly, "I suppose being stuck here has driven you to the border of insanity?"
You shook your head at that comment, giggling as you took a seat next to Hozier like a child would to their father, "Nah, it's been nice not to listen to Dutch bark up the same tree all day and night. Besides, I know how much Arthur needs his time away, he and Sundance get along well."
"That's very nice of you, y/n. You and Arthur are certainly made for eachother." Hozier shot you a pleased smile, covering his mouth afterwards to heave out a few hearty coughs, beating his chest with a clenched fist. You wanted to offer him help, but you knew as well as anyone that help wouldn't do Hozier any good. You knew that whatever disease had cursed his lungs was terminal - no going back. All you could do was offer verbal support, to which Hozier would always brush off. He much preferred others to ignore those coughs he often hacked - and so you did.
Hozier, after clearing his throat with a quiet apology, turned his attention to you fully, "Though... the poor boy does need to get himself a new mount sooner or later."
Hozier was right. The gang moved frequently and it was only a matter of time until Horseshoe Overlook would become a thing of the past, despite how much you enjoyed the view and atmosphere here.
You needed Sundance back soon, Dutch would be getting restless not putting you back to work, and Arthur needed his own horse. Hiding away from the absence of Boadecia wouldn't be doing the Outlaw much good.
"Say... do you remember back at Colter when you, Javier and Charles went huntin' round lake Isabella?" Hozier broke you from your thoughts.
You hummed in question, squinting slightly as you drew your mind back to that trip. It was in the midst of the storm, the gang needed fresh food fast. Arthur was back at camp - or rather what little resembled a camp - tending to other business while you snuck out with Javier and Charles to catch a bite to eat, despite Dutch's orders to not brace the storm. You had all made it to lake Isabella, a beautifully remote section of the mountains that was plentiful with game of all species; Mountain goats, Whitetail Deer and Elk. You had all managed to take down a relatively large mountain goat, enough for the entire gang to feast on for a day or two.
Hozier breifly broke your train of thought, "If I recall, I remember you askin' if I've ever known horses to live wild in such conditions. Always struck me as odd, given the fact that you never really told me what you saw on that trip."
Returning your mind to your memories, you remembered how you made haste back to camp, the image of a white silhouette amidst the blizzard resembling that of a horse burning into your memory. Quite a small one, probably around the same size as Dutch's stallion, The Count. You couldn't be too sure though. It was freezing, you were hungry and Charles was ushering you back to Colter before you got a chance to investigate, fearing that leaving you behind in the storm would prevoke a very worried and angry Arthur Morgan. You questioned Hozier on the possibility of 'mountain horses' as soon as you found your way into one of the cabins to warm your frozen bones. When Hozier had understandably shot you a confused glance and politely asked if you were well in the head, you'd taken off, embarrassed, without an explanation.
"Yeah... I'm sorry about that." You gave Hozier an apologetic grin as he brought you back round to present day with a polite chuckle, fiddling with the end of his chin in thought, "Well I did some investigating in Valentine the other day. Was talk of a nature photographer spending the morning at the Saloon for breakfast."
One of the ledger pages flipped to reveal a long list of needed items. Food, medicine and ammunition. Hozier continued on with his story, "Thought I might as well ask the fella if he's ever seen horses in the mountains surroundin' the Grizzlies. If he's a nature photographer then why would he want to pass the chance to capture the image of an urban legend?"
"Urban legend?" You quietly repeated, your arms folding as you furrowed your brow in question, "I thought you didn't believe me back there in Colter?"
Hozier bowed his head in response, "Admittedly at the time I thought the cold and hunger got to your head, but in the back of my mind I knew you wouldn't make a fool of yourself. So, I went and asked the locals on my first trip to town." Another page was flipped. "There's been talk of a certain white horse living in those mountains, was always a myth though among these here parts of New Hanover."
Interest peaked as you leaned in closer, brows knitting together with curiosity, "What sort of myth?"
Hozier simply shrugged, though a small smirk seemed to form against the corner of his mouth as he spoke, "Folk down in Valentine seem to think there's this mysterious horse that lives in the mountains for whatever reason. Some say it's a ghost, others say it's the long lost horse of some weary travellers that didn't make it past the lake." Dry fingers flicked the page of the ledger across, dreary eyes scanning the contributions made over the last week. To no surprise, you noticed Arthur's name had filled most of the week's page with various donations of money, pocket watches and a few discarded wedding bands. Hozier continued, tracing his finger across the page, "I wouldn't know myself. You are the one that saw the supposed beast, and if other folk think there's such a thing then perhaps you weren't wrong." He shuffled uncomfortably on the hard surface of the rock, readjusting his position. "Besides, that photographer I found - I forget the name... Ah! Albert I believe, says he is certain he saw the creature himself, though one image alone would never suffice."
Now you were genuinely excited and awfully curious. Perhaps you did see a horse up at Lake Isabella, and better yet, a horse strong enough to survive in such conditions that even the gang could hardly withstand. A mount like that would certainly peak Arthur's interests.
"I suppose it would make a good trip for Arthur and you, and we aren't far from the mountains down here." Hozier flicked his hand in the direction of the mountain peaks, despite still having an eye on the coffee brown ledger pages, "Arthur needs a new mount. He can't keep stealin' Sundance. That won't help him pass the grief of losin' Boadecia." Repeating himself from earlier to emphasise the need for Arthur to take on a new mount, Hozier cleared his throat, "You can head off as soon as I convince Dutch and Susan to let you go."
"And you really think Miss Grimshaw will let us go as well as Dutch letting Arthur loose for a few days?" There was an amusement to your tone as you rocked your weight from one leg to the other, arms pointed outward with gloved hands gripping your hips. Hozier simply closed the ledger, turned his attention to you and smiled, "I can make it happen, dear girl."
"Well, I wish you luck on talking to Susan about that," your reply was seething with doubt, yet playful, pulling a rather loud chuckle from the old man who you saw as a fatherly figure.
Whilst Dutch was the formidable leader of the gang, Hozier was the man people would often go to for support - you included.
With a heavy slap to the knee, Hozier stood and sighed: "You and me both my dear... you and me both." He was cradling the ledger between his chest and armpit and had scooped a thin square object from his top pocket with his spare hand, passing it to you between his index and middle finger. You gently took it - a photograph. No doubt the same picture he had spoken of earlier, he must have paid Albert for it. Eyes scanned the image which revealed a very faint outline of a horse. The image itself was mostly white, but the treeline behind said silhouette and the edge of a frozen lake in the bottom right hand corner was all too familiar to you. By the time your jaw parted to celebrate with Hozier he had vanished.
You already knew what you had to do.
Once Arthur had returned from whatever escapade he had been sent on, Hozier had ambushed him before you had even gotten the chance to notice. It hadn't taken much convincing - Arthur was overjoyed to finally get some well deserved time alone with you, though he hadn't been told why exactly.
It had taken half a day to convince Grimshaw to let you and Arthur go. Dutch took half that time with Hozier's careful prodding, but eventually, the two allowed you to leave.
With camping gear equipped for the snowy weather and the two of you laden in thick, warm coats, you were off, and it hadn't taken long for you to finally enter the crystal white landscape.
The weather had calmed, allowing for an easier stride through the thick snow. Once you and Arthur had advanced to Colter, you decided to take the lead.
"I thought Hozier told us to collect whatever it was we left here?" Arthur questioned you curiously as he watched you and Sundance trot right past the old rundown village and onto the trail that lead next to a small stream. He had politely asked Charles to borrow Taima once more, who had happily agreed in exchange for a few days rest. The beautiful spotted horse whinnied in irritation at the cold snap, gaining a gentle brush and carrot from Arthur's hand.
"You really think Susan would've let any of ys leave supplies behind?" Your reply was sarcastic yet amused as you glanced back over your shoulder at the frozen Outlaw. His expression frowned back at you, "So... why exactly are we back here then? You want me to freeze to death? Cause I really disliked bein' in this snow..."
Arthur's complaints pulled a playful tut from your mouth as you spurred Sundance onward, "Just trust me, hun. It'll all be worth it once we find what we're lookin' for."
"Which is?"
"Just be patient and keep your voice down."
Another half an hour of wading through the snow and you had finally reached Lake Isabella. Arthur had commented on the beauty of the landscape before narrowing his ocean eyes towards you, yet again scolding you for going off into a blizzard just to find food.
You'd endured his nagging over the situation three times now, although you understood why. He was worried for you, if you'd been injured or worse, the snow would have certainly buried you - they'd never find your body. Regardless of the fact, you had survived and fed the entire gang that night before escaping the barrens of the mountains. It was all for a good cause.
"We should set up a small camp here. No doubt we'll be searchin' a little while, perhaps into tomorrow." Your eyes scanned the wilderness ahead of you. To your right was the edge of the frozen lake, and your left a thick wall of forest.
As you lept from your mounts side, Arthur followed suit. You felt a large hand grip your shoulder, "Okay, can you please tell me why we're here now?"
Suppose it was now or risk him racing into the path of the mysterious beast only to spook it away.
"We're getting you a horse."
Silence.
Arthur glared at you, dumbfounded. Then, you watched on with a displeased sigh as the man folded in on himself in a bellowing laugh: "A horse?! Here?! Christ Y/n you kill me!"
Unamused at the hysterical Cowboy, you slowly shook your head and leaned back on one leg as he struggled for air, tears forming in the corners of his eyes that stung once the cold snap hit them.
Finally Arthur turned his attention to you and paused.
It was that look he couldn't ignore. One eyebrow slightly teetered upright, piercing judgemental eyes and a completely flat expression upon your straight lips.
"Okay, okay I believe ya! Kinda... jus' stop lookin' at me like that."
Arthur had ceased his laughing fit, slowly catching his breath as he brought himself upright to stare at your blank expression. He shifted uncomfortably, cuffing a boot over the virgin snow in an attempt to settle his mind onto something other than your expression.
Finally you gave in, smiling once more with rosy red cheeks against the frozen wind. Your hand repeated Hozier's action as you flicked out the photograph from your satchel and handed it to Arthur, "Take a look."
Arthur carefully took the square picture from your fingertips and brought it to his face, focusing on the image with squinted eyes. You watched on, smirking a little when Arthur's brows rose and his eyes widened a little in disbelief, "Who took this photograph?"
"Hozier gave it to me, said he met with some wildlife photographer called Albert down at Valentine." You replied quickly, unravelling the tent fabric and poles from it's bind that you had removed from Sundance's saddle.
As you continued on with fixing up a little campsite, Arthur had strode around in an almost-complete circle, his eyes studying the image, "Well, he is one crazy son of a bitch comin' all the way out here for a picture. Next minute you know he'll be photographin' an entire pack of wolves."
You had cleared a patch in the snow and outstretched your bedroll by the time Arthur had finished pacing, glancing up in his direction with an amused snort, "You come tell me if you ever see anything of the sort. Wolves... I could definitely imagine it." With that in mind you shook your head, a soft smile lacing your lips as you finished off with the tent preparations.
Now with a finished camp, you and Arthur sauntered off into the treeline for some fallen branches, placing a little ring of rocks for the base of a small campfire once you both returned. It didn't take long for Arthur to work at the twigs, stoking the embers to crackle into a pleasant warm dance of oranges, yellows and reds whilst you set up hitching posts close by for Sundance and Taima.
The distant sun had now dipped below the peak of the mountain, casting heavy black shadows against the sparkling snowdrifts. Stars were one by one piercing through the violet stratosphere above and a delicate scattering of fluffy pink clouds sailed into the distance, promising a clear night.
Sundance and Taima were grazing at a small stack of fawing hay you had managed to pull from the frozen pile left behind at Colter. It wasn't much, but was certainly enough to quell the equines hunger for the night ahead. Both horses stood close to the fire, allowing the orange glow to warm their sides, tails swishing with content.
You watched from the inside of your small tent as Arthur bent himself close to the fire, his arm outstretched and hand holding onto his silver hunting knife. Attached to the tip was a thick chunk of fresh venison.
The flames of the fire cast a beautiful amber shade upon his face that you couldn't help but study; his sharp jawline peppered with short stubble cast a deep shadow against his neck, the angled bridge of his nose and the strong browline defining his masculine features. His chin dawned two thick scars which you could only imagine were inflicted by a knives edge. Those heavy definitions of his face however brought out the most entrancing thing that had always sent you into a flurry of emotions with each passing gaze. His eyes. Ocean blue with a hint of aqua, teal, lime and bronze. In one instance those irises were lit with the fires of absolute fury, sharp and terrifying. Whilst on other occasions, they were soft and inviting, perhaps even sad. You found yourself lost in them almost daily.
"Here," without having realised, Arthur held out the now cooked chunk of meat in your direction. You were far too lost, focusing on his face that you failed to notice him waving the venison in front of you.
"Oh- sorry. Just got lost in my own head," innocently smiling you gently took the handle of Arthur's knife, only to realise that he was smirking back at you, "What?"
"Oh nothin'. Jus' you, starin' at me. Sure you was lost in your own head or lost on my face?" Arthur rose his brow and thrust himself forward to almost touch you with his nose. That left you squirming on the spot, attempting to argue back but to no avail; your voice was sparse and simply silent. So, you snapped your jaw shut and curled yourself into your legs, muffling an awkward: "Shush."
Arthur chuckled at the sight of you all embarrassed and coiled up like a snake hiding from an soaring Hawk overhead, amused that he had already won and planted a messy kiss upon your forehead, the only section of your face he could get to. He kissed you again and again until you pulled your face from cover with a deep blush and a flustered giggle, only to be cut off when Arthur pressed his lips against your own.
"Easy Mr Morgan, don't wanna give yourself chapped lips cause of the cold," You mused as your back hit the soft surface of your bedroll, Arthur caging you underneath him. He let out a snort of contempt at the idea, shrugging, "Worth the risk."
"Not when you're complaining over it!"
"If I complain then you get to shut me up." Arthur challenged you as he began to plant little nips and kisses across your jawline and down the dip of your neck, gleeful in listening to your tiny squeals of delight, "That tickles!"
"So?" The Outlaw chided as he continued on, now pinning your arms down to stop you from pushing him off. He purposefully began to drag his stubble across your neck, knowing full well that it was an unbearably ticklish spot of yours. Your quiet complaining soon erupted into sharp laughter, squirming underneath the cowboy's grasp. You weren't a match for Arthur's strength, and every wriggle to escape him was proven futile. Though, despite the torture of his tickling, you couldn't help but blush and enjoy the mischievous look on Arthur's face as he finally pulled back to allow you some air.
"I love you," You wheezed joyfully as Arthur placed a warm kiss upon the tip of your nose, "I love you too, sweetheart."
With that excitement out of the way, Arthur flopped onto his back, discarded his clothes until his union suit remained and wriggled himself into your side. You had undressed into your chemise, slipping into the bedroll whilst also layering a number of pelts and coats on top for extra warmth, letting your clothes thaw next to the fire. Arthur slipped between the blankets, nestling his head into the crook of your neck.
Your previous playfight had brought back pleasant memories, sighing outward with a smile you reminisced to Arthur, "Hey, you remember when Hozier came up with that brilliant idea to lock us in that shabby old hotel room up at Blackwater?"
A low chuckle vibrated against your neck and Arthur pulled his head up to meet your gaze, "Oh yes, how could I forget? Was better than any of Dutch's plans cause it actually worked."
"Don't let him hear you say that," you teased, gently brushing away a lock of hair from his blue spheres, "Dutch will have your guts for garters."
Arthur shrugged, pulling the blanket of the bedroll tighter around the both of you so that your body was flush to his, "We must've been in that room for what, half a day?"
Your brow bent downwards as you brought your mind back to the time. It had been during the early days of the gangs arrival at Blackwater. You and Arthur had been tasked with scoping out the town, and Hozier had really emphasised checking out the hotel. "Yeah I'd say so. Was a brilliant idea on Hozier's part, bringing us together like that. Said we wasn't leaving till one of us 'spoke your truth'," you brought your voice a little lower, attempting to imitate a slightly thicker accent so that you sounded a little like Hozier, playfully prodding Arthur's bare chest that was exposed from the unbuttoned midsection of his Union suit. The Cowboy grunted, the corner of his mouth hooked upward, dragging his calloused thumb across your jawline, "Had to be me makin' all the effort of speakin' my feelings first huh?"
"Yeah but I still kissed you first." You snapped back with a playful pout.
Arthur's head teetered to the side, "Don't count, I admitted how I felt first."
"Why you-" you were quickly silenced by Arthur's soft kiss, your lips dancing in unison before he eventually pulled back, hovering over your face with a proud grin, "Remember Hozier's face when he opened to door on us? We were practically naked at that point."
You couldn't help but snort out an amused laugh, thinking back to how Hozier had unlocked the door counting on seeing the both of you cuddled up together. It had been so much more than just a cuddle. You and Arthur had been harboring those feelings of longing and love for years, so it only made sense for a simple admittance of love and shy kiss to escalate into something much more intimate. Hozier, the poor soul, had walked in on you both. Although you hadn't yet done anything, the both of you were still half naked with just your panties and Arthur's shirt still gripping onto your skin.
"I honestly thought we'd given Hozier a heart attack..." You muttered quietly, brushing a hand across your face in an attempt to wash away the post-embarrassment. Arthur nuzzled your hand away and placed a gentle peck against your cheek, "Ah well, he was still proud of achieving something. Worked wonders, 'least it was obvious."
"Then the ferry job happened..." that had awkwardly slipped from your mouth, earning a rather sorrowful gaze from Arthur.
You had been together a week before that, and you had returned to camp after a long hunting trip to find out that a particular ferry job had gone horribly wrong. Nobody knew who had died, who had made it, who had been captured or injured... and you weren't aware that Arthur hadn't been on that job.
You remembered high-tailing it from camp and into the streets of Blackwater, eyes wide and frantic. The law had already swarmed the streets and were starting to become suspicious of you. One man had even pulled you from Sundance and placed the barrel of their Navy Revolver against your head, demanding the location of 'Dutch Van Der Linde', only to be shot in the head himself by a furious Arthur Morgan.
You'd fled Blackwater and West Elizabeth mere hours after Dutch had returned to camp. Pinkerton's were hunting down his tracks like wolves to a fresh blood trail, and you all had no other choice but to flee into the mountains where the law and the agents wouldn't dare to follow you.
Mack had been shot and vanished just after escaping the ferry, Davey had been in an awful way, too. Poor Jenny, a good friend of yours, had died on your pursuit to the mountains and Sean was nowhere to be seen.
"We're alive though, darlin'. I'm alive. Got nothin' to worry about, okay?" Arthur buried himself against you once more, ushering you onto your side so he could wrap his legs around you. His warmth enveloped you, drawing out a relaxed sigh and small smile, "Okay Arthur. I love you."
"I love you too, darlin'. Always."
"Got any other stories about the Wild West then?" You questioned with a purr, drawing a low rumble from your partner as he thought back to those brilliant golden years.
You weren't entirely sure how long you had spent tangled in Arthur's arms, your head resting upon his chest as you listened to him remanice over the 'good old days' further west. You'd clearly fallen asleep, now waking, disturbed by a slither of silver light peaking it's way through the crack of the tent curtain. Once you had shifted to sit upright, Arthur too had stirred and cracked a single eye open only just: "I would say good mornin', but it's freezin' and I'm miserable."
Giving off a soft chuckle you planted a gentle kiss upon Arthur's frozen nose, "Well hopefully that horse is out here and the weather doesn't change. Then we can be off by nightfall, maybe earlier."
Slipping outside of the tent and into the open air of Lake Isabella, you scanned the clearing ahead of you. To your left was a long row of dense fir trees, and to your right the mostly frozen lake. Ahead stretched out a snowy pathway that bowed upward to create a hill.
"So we're lookin' for a bright white horse in a bright white mountain. Should be fun..." Arthur had crept up beside you, his thick blue jacket wrapped rightly around his broad body. In his hand was a piping hot mug of coffee, taking in the warm steam that wavered from it's contents.
"At least you ain't here with Micah," you took your own cup, giving Arthur a huff. The thought of the two men out here together in search of a myth was frankly an amusing one. It certainly wouldn't end well - Micah would most likely burn some other poor soul's house down.
Once the both of you finished off your morning coffees, you decided to set off up the path that rimmed the lake, leaving the horses at their hitching posts as to not make too much of a disturbance. Arthur had mentioned something about a 'legendary buffalo' that had been mapped out around your general location whilst you kept your eyes on the snow-covered floor. Your hand whipped out, halting Arthur just before the hill sloped downward, "There's tracks here. Horse tracks, look. The hooves aren't cleft like a Deer, Elk or Buffalo."
Arthur knelt down and drew in a long winded breath, caressing the side of his jaw curiously, "Yes, they're horse tracks alright. Could have just been someone else's horse though to come do a spot of huntin'?"
You paused, throwing Arthur a rather displeased pout, "Mr Doubtful today aren't you?"
"What? Just bein' realistic." Arthur grunted as you pushed past, slipping over the mound to get a good look ahead of you. The lake rounded off just ahead where the forest opened up into a small valley. Just before you could take a step down however, you felt hands grip into the bunched fabric of your coat and air begin to whip past you as you were roughly dragged backwards. You landed heavily against Arthur's bent knee, parting your jaw to complain but Arthur got to you first, wrapping his hand around your mouth cooing a quiet "Shhhh."
You were confused, a little irritated at the sudden yank, but you knew Arthur wouldn't have done such a thing if it wasn't necessary.
Arthur peered over the edge and back down at you, his crystal eyes glinting with a sudden rush of excitement, "You were right!" His voice was merely a whisper, but you could hear the thrill within his thick drawl, "There's a bright white mare at the edge of the lake where the water hasn't frozen over. Think she's an Arabian, like The Count."
"Told ya," Arthur released you as you spoke, smug written across your face. He then gave you a quick peck to the back of the hand in a silent apology before taking a deep breath, shaking out his arms and stood, "Wait here. We don't know how stubborn she's gon' be. If Boadecia is anything to go by..." his voice trailed off to be replaced with silent focus and determination.
You did as you were told, standing back, eyes fixated on the back of the Outlaw as he slowly approached the Arabian, gently cooing calming words in her direction.
The mare's ears twisted sideways and she quickly threw her head up from the lake, sprinkling rainbow droplets from her muzzle. She huffed, agitated, her left hoof digging furiously into the fresh snow below.
She was going to be a difficult one, you could tell. Boadecia was a strong willed horse, she'd bucked Arthur off a handful of times before finally breaking. But Boadecia had been fenced in and Dutch and Hozier had been there to watch on. This white mare was not fenced in nor did you have the help from two aged Outlaws. But, you did have experience on your hands. Arthur moreso.
You watched on, bringing your fingers against your lips, nervously chewing at the tips as Arthur drew closer. The mare's breath was becoming heavier and much more frantic by the second, plumes of foggy breath retreating from her buzzing nostrils. Her ears were pinned slightly backwards, telling you both that her patience was wearing thin.
"Easy now... easy..." Arthur was a mere few feet away now. He froze. The mare froze also. Both were about to bolt. Arthur drew in a deep breath and leaped, scrambling up the side of the equine and began a fierce battle of staying upright upon the create.
The Arabian let out a hearty battle cry, her head flinging harshly in each direction, strong back legs bucking wildly.
You stood, your breath caught in your throat as Arthur was swung from side to side. He pleaded for the mare to relax but she just wouldn't give in. She came closer and closer until she had almost trampled you, earning a rather shocked squeal as you fell backwards. For a brief second you could see the panic in Arthur's eyes and temptation to veer off of her side to check up on you, but you insisted he keep on her back, "I'm fine! Just keep at it!"
The animal thrashed as best she could, but eventually you could see her tiring. Her bucks were becoming less frequent and her head flicks became lame and slow, her nose huffed and fluttered until she eventually came to a hault, head hung and hoof scraping against the ground in defeat.
"There we go, that's it, easy... not so bad is it?" Arthur almost slumped against the white equine, chest heaving as he gripped onto the mare's neck, "Good girl."
"You did it!" You were at their side, slipping against the small snowdrift with excited eyes and a large, proud smile, "And what did I tell ya? Where's my apology kiss Mr Morgan?"
Arthur shook his head with a smirk, replying with a quaint, "Hey, I never once doubted you. I doubted everyone else, okay?" To which your response was to tut, offer your hand with a beckon and as soon as Arthur bent down to kiss it, you stole it with your lips. Arthur blinked, dumbfounded and blushing as you strode off towards the camp, "You're forgiven."
The ride back had been an easy-going one. You and Arthur had both expected his new mount to begin acting up, but to your surprise she had been extremely obedient and forgiving.
You lead Taima behind you, allowing Arthur to ride ahead so that he could take control of his new mount rather than have her follow you.
You were now making your way towards the Dakota River, passing Cattail Pond and in the process stopping to allow your horses to drink.
It was mid-afternoon by this point, having set off at first light. The weather was forgiving; a delightful warmth that hit your skin pleasantly without threatening to boil you inside your coats.
Once satisfied that your mounts were hydrated, you continued onward to Valentine.
"How's she treatin' ya?" You encouraged Sundance to trot beside the white horse, significantly smaller than your golden Missouri Fox Trotter stallion.
Arthur had to gaze up at you this time, a little taken back by the difference but found it humorous nonetheless, "Better than I expected, honestly."
"You thought of a name yet?" Curiosity dug into your flesh like a Hawk to a Rabbit, eyeing the beautiful creature with a bright smile.
Arthur gave you a shrug, "I have a few in mind."
Your eyes beckoned Arthur onwards, who pursed his lips together with a sigh, "You really wanna know, don'chu?"
"Well of course!" Excitement welled in your stomach. You leant forward, almost falling from Sundance's saddle - pausing when you caught sight of a faint frown plastered on Arthur's face, "Hey... what's bothering you?"
Arthur shot you a quick glance, sniffing and dragging his sleeve across his face, "Doesn't matter."
"Arthur... you can talk to me, you know that. Come on... I won't tattle. Promise."
"Y'aint gonna find it silly?" Arthur prodded, to which you gave him a sappy smile, rolling your eyes and sighed, "I don't even know what you're gonna say yet but... no. I won't judge."
Arthur slowly nod his head, chewing nervously at his bottom inner lip. Finally raising his head, he let the words fall out of his mouth like a waterfall, "I don't wanna replace Boadecia. She was a fine horse... loyal as could be, never once bucked me after breakin' her, never once nipped me."
You listened on, elbows pressing into your thighs and chin resting against the creamy coloured mane of your mount.
"What if this girl ain't right for me? What if she's not like Boadecia?"
"She ain't Boadecia, Arthur. You don't wanna replace her, and you aren't." You beckoned your hand out to the white mare who coincidentally huffed as you did so, "This horse here is completely different, so there's no threat of feelin' like you're replacing her. It's a new journey, a new horse... Boadecia will always be in your heart."
Arthur watched you intently, eyes wide and brows bent upwards ever so slightly, his lips barely parted. He then cleared his throat, letting himself relax into a pleasant smile, holding his hand out for yours. Once you placed your palm against his, he leaned over and upright, planting a gentle kiss against your knuckles, "Thank you sweetheart. I needed to hear that."
"Think of her as Boadecia's final gift to you." You chuckled softly as Arthur kissed your soft skin, to which the man snapped his fingers with an 'Ahah!' Dragging a confused glare from yourself.
Arthur offered the mare a gentle scratch and brush, holding out a fat orange carrot under her nose as he shot you a celebratory grin, "Pandora!"
You blinked, amused and dumbfounded, "I'm sorry- what?"
"That's what I'll call her. Pandora. Means gift in Greek or whatever... I dunno, ask Dutch. He loves his books. I jus' remember it from him cause it's a strange word." Arthur settled back into the saddle, spurring Pandora onward into a faster canter now that you were both nearing Valentine, the stables a dot in the distance.
You followed on behind, checking your back to see how Taima was doing; just fine it seemed. Then, you gazed out ahead of you, watching as Arthur comfortably relaxed into the trot, one hand sagging down beside his waist. A gentle sigh escaped your lungs as you admired the man ahead of you, "Pandora sounds just fine."
Once you had both had the Stablemen give the horses a check over as well as a pampering, you made your way back towards Horseshoe Overlook. It was nearing the evening, golden rays washing over the treeline and breaking into a warm amber glow over the camp.
Arthur steadied Pandora, giving the mare a dozen praises and kisses before raising his voice with pride, giving you a clever wink in the process.
"Hozier! Come take a look at this beauty!"
*Mini Extra!*
John and Bill rounded the corner of the treeline to see Arthur, yourself and Hozier fawning over the new snow-coloured mare.
"Who's this?" John questioned curiously, taking a long, hard look up and down at Pandora, her flank fluttering and hooves tapping at the ground tentatively. Arthur brushed a hand gently down the velvety skin of Pandora's muzzle, "This here's Pandora. She's my new horse."
"A bit small for you ain't she, Morgan?" Bill teased, keeping back to give his own mount, Brown Jack, a large kiss against the beast's nose. Brown Jack was evidently much larger than Pandora, who was also overshadowed by John's horse, Old Boy.
Arthur's eyes squinted, narrowing across both John and Bill before he stood back on one knee, rose his chin and smirked, "Hey, I can guarantee all of you that Pandora here could most certainly beat your horses in a race."
Bill and John shot eachother a look before returning that challenging glare at Arthur, Bill snapping back an excited, "Prove it then, Morgan."
It hadn't taken long for the three of the men to saddle up and charge off through the treeline.
You gave Hozier a heavy sigh, eyes rolling as you watched the tired joy on Hozier's face brighten as he smiled, shaking his head, "What it is to be youthful, eh?"
"Aye you're not so old yourself," You gave Hozier a teasing smirk, to which you earnt yourself a playful nudge on the shoulder, Hozier placing a hand against it and gazing off into the treeline after the boys.
I never saw this interaction until today (despite maaany playthroughs.)
I never even concidered what Sean and Kieran's relationship would be like. How'd Sean react to an O'driscoll being in camp? Even though Sean can be an asshole at times, he still took the time to listen to Kieran here. Was just really sweet and I wanted to talk about it 🥲
