A preview of my first RDR fic! It's Arthur x Mary based on the song Would You Fall In Love With Me Again from Epic!
I still have a lot to write, but thought I'd share what I have so far! ā¤ļø
"There is a good man within you, Arthur, but he is wrestling with a giant."
Those words had stuck with Arthur ever since he read Mary's last letter. It played over and over in the darkest corners of his mind each time blood was shed; each time he made the decision of being the outlaw he had grown, and shaped up, to be despite the random acts of kindness he had done. These last few months felt as though everyone was descending into madness. Especially Dutch. How many times had Arthur questioned his motives? How many times had he questioned himself, yet continued to live the life of a wanted man? It was everything he'd known. But when he first met Mary?
ā¦God, he'd never felt a love so strong. She was everything he didn't know he needed. Mary showed him kindness even when he didn't deserve it; showed him love when he did nothing but hurt her time after time. She showed him forgiveness and humility. She loved him despite how her family felt about him. There was something in him she saw that they did not.
Arthur's heart twisted as he stared into the flames of his campfire. He could die any day now. Whether by the hands of the law, or by the damn tuberculosis that ravaged his lungs. Whichever got to him first, he supposed, but regardless his time was limited. Does he spend it by continuing his outlaw ways? By continuing to follow Dutch in his descent to madness?
Or does he do what his heart had always truly wanted. To stop running and finally settle down with the woman he loved with his whole being?
The ring Mary had sent back sat heavily in the pocket of his shirt. It was the very one he gave her in the hopes that she'd marry him. She refused. Arthur had seen it coming in a lot of ways, yet part of him hoped that she'd say yes. Their lives were just too different. She wanted to marry him, she had told him, but she couldn't in good conscience get involved with his way of life. Arthur was angry and heartbroken, but he understood. No matter how much he had loved Mary, he continued to choose the gang each time. It was a constant war within himself. And the giant was closer and closer to winning.
Arthur wasn't sure if he could continue to let that happen. The giant in him was eating him alive, and quickly.
He ran his hands through his hair as he took a deep, rattling breath. The thought of leaving the gang sparked a sense of panic in him. He had grown up with them. He was loyalā¦But his body couldn't take it anymore. Hell, he himself couldn't take it anymore. He and Mary; they could have had a life together had he just thrown away his pride.
A series of coughs tore through his throat. He doubled over as they shook and rattled his broad frame. When they finally eased, he looked down at his hand to see the usual flecks of blood. He stared at it for a long time until he felt something in him shift. The giant had begun to retreat. If only a little bit. It was there that his mind was made up.
He knew he should wait for morning, but he couldn't. Not with this new feeling thrumming through his veins and under his skin.
The fire was quickly put out, camp torn down, and his horse tacked up and ready to go. As soon as he swung his leg over to settle into the saddle, his horse lurched forward into a gallop like she could sense his urgency. He wasn't sure where he was going first, but he'll ride anywhere and everywhere until he found Mary.
It had been days since he first set out. He barely slept, barely ate (not that he could eat much anyway). He visited most of the places he thought she might be, but still no hide nor hair of Mary Linton. And yet he had no desire to return to the gang. He'd write them once he found his home. The home he should have gone to despite the protests of her family. He had spent his whole life running, and following Dutch, that he was blinded to the life that could have been.
The air of New Hanover was immediately easier to breathe in. It was light and dry. Nothing like the suffocating humidity of Lemoyne. It eased the ache in Arthur's chest and lungs, if only a little. He'd been riding for almost two weeks now, only stopping to sleep, and to eat whenever he could keep things down. He knew he looked rough. He could see it on people's faces. Did he care? Not particularly. How he presented himself was the last thing on his mind as he searched high and low for the woman he loved.
Valentine was the same little town he had left behind. For all the trouble the gang had caused there, it was a sight he preferred over the busy and polluted streets of Saint Denis, and the smokey skies from the coal mines of Annesberg.
