Summary: While Arthur trains with his Knights, you notice that they’re afraid to actually beat him so you give them a show they’ll never forget.
Words: 1436
A/N: I can’t believe this is my first time writing for Arthur, I loved Merlin for so long!! I hope you guys enjoy this and please let me know what you think, I’m trying to get into writing for more fandoms! I love you all!! xxx
It was a beautiful morning in Camelot, a truly splendid that the poets wrote romantic sonnets about and there was nothing more romantic than the chirping of the birds and the sight of the brilliant blue sky. You hadn’t been in Camelot for long but it was already beginning to feel like home. Uther Pendragon was an old friend of your family’s and as soon as your mother got sick, Uther had bid you to both come to stay at his court while your mother recovered, away from the stress of your father’s kingdom.
Your father stayed behind to rule the kingdom and he thought it would be good for you to stay in Camelot, where the sun seemed to shine every day. As you dragged a comb through your hair, you heard a right commotion travelling through your open window. Padding over to the window, you squinted against the sun to see what was going on.
Arthur was training with his Knights and you marvelled at how skilled of a fighter he was as the sun made his hair shine like liquid gold. You recalled all the times that you and Arthur played at being Knights when you were children; it mostly consisted of you beating him. Without even having any breakfast, you retired from your beautiful chambers and made your way out into the warmth of the sun.
Merlin and Gwen smiled at you as you approached them but you could see the boredom shining in their eyes, “you two look thrilled,” you laughed and Merlin pulled a face as he rolled his bright blue eyes.
Gwen smiled at you, “I thought Merlin might want some company.”
“We’ve been out here for most of the morning but it’s all the same. I think the Knights are frightened to actually try and knock him into the dirt,” you bit back a laugh as Merlin heaved a sigh. You knew that Merlin would relish the sight of his master getting knocked to the ground in some friendly sport.
“Come on then, who’s next?!” there was laughter in Arthur’s voice as he called out, holding his out, with a cocky expression on his handsome face.
“I will,” you smirked, vaulting over the fence before any of the men could speak up.
You heard Merlin choke on a surprised laugh and Gwen let out a delighted little gasp. The Knights looked from you to Arthur with amused looks on their faces, and you scowled at them. Arthur smirked and quirked an eyebrow as he looked away from you for a split second, “Princess Y/N, I think that is highly improper.”
You laughed at his rejection as you wandered over to grab a practice sword, tossing it in the air and catching it effortlessly, “why? I used to beat you all the time when we were children.”
Arthur laughed out loud – which you did not appreciate – as he bit his bottom lip, his dark blue eyes sparkling with amusement. You wanted to slap that look off his face, future King or not, “what if I had simply let you win? Maybe I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
That did make you laugh as you recalled one of your favourite memories, “so, when I gave you that bloody nose when we were ten, and I overheard you crying to Gaius, was that you letting me win?” you smirked as one of the Knights snickered and let out a low whistle.
Arthur scowled at you as he clamped his mouth shut, a muscle fluttering in his jaw, “very well, as you wish, Princess,” he performed a mocking bow as he twirled his sword.
You rolled your eyes as you launched forwards and jabbed at him quickly, it was fighting dirty but when met with a real threat, Arthur couldn’t expect them to fight fair. Arthur blocked it just in time with a surprised look on his face as you both circled each other. The both of you were more than a match for one another, you blocked and parried most of the other’s attacks but some blows landed hard enough to knock the wind out of you.
When you landed a blow against Arthur’s chest he let out a grunt as the spectators gasped and winced on Arthur’s behalf. Though, Arthur didn’t seem too put out, instead he only smirked and winked at you. Under usual circumstances that look would have almost made you swoon.
“You’ve grown stronger, Princess,” he launched at you with his sword, making you turn to avoid it and you hit him in the back with the flat of your sword.
“The Captain of my father’s guard used to give me secret lessons.”
As the sun reached higher in the sky, you and Arthur began to grow tired with the heat of the sun and the weight of the swords. Fortunately, Arthur left his flank open and you kicked at the weakness until he went sprawling into the hot dirt. The spectators let out a chorus of cheers but you hardly heard them as you smirked at the handsome Prince on the ground.
You pressed the tip of your sword against his chin and he looked down at it with a smirk before he glanced back up at you, “do you submit, Sire?” you raised a teasing eyebrow.
His lip was cut and his golden hair was muddy and mussed, you didn’t expect him to give up so easily, you knew that he was stubborn, “never!” he shouted, throwing his foot out behind your legs which caused you to trip and fall on top of him.
He chuckled as his hands automatically came up to hold your waist. His eyes were soft as he glanced up at you and you let your gaze flicker down to his lips. If you just leaned in a bit further, your lips would be against his. With a smirk, you leaned in ever so slightly, feeling him breathe against your lips and you saw his eyes close, “what do you say we call that a draw?” you laughed as you stood up and offered your hand to him.
Arthur’s eyes snapped open and you helped him up as he took your hand, his cheeks were red and he looked flustered, “as you wish, Princess,” he nodded at you, clearing his throat.
Later on that evening, you were joining Arthur, Uther and Morgana for supper and you ended up running into Arthur in the long hallways. He smirked at you as he looked at your silken robes approvingly.
“It’s good to see you, Princess, especially when you’re wearing that,” he put emphasis on his words and you felt a hot sting run through your body.
“Do you think that this is all that I’m good for? Putting on a pretty dress?” you tried to keep your voice steady as you felt hot tears sting at your eyes.
Arthur made a tutting sound as he walked in front of you and stopped you in your tracks. His intense blue gaze was kind and warm that you had to look away. He gently cupped your chin, turning you back to face him, “that is not what I meant at all. You are a skilled fighter and it clearly makes you happy. I wouldn’t change that about you, I wouldn’t ask you to be anything but what you are, Y/N, I,” he laughed, “I admit that I am not good at talking about how I feel,” he let out a sheepish smile and you huffed out a laugh. You could tell that he was really trying, “I care for you, I have feelings for you. I’ve waited for you to come back to Camelot for so long.”
His words shocked you, before you had come to court; you hadn’t seen Arthur since you were about thirteen. At thirteen you had been besotted with the dragon prince. The beautiful dragon prince. He looked vulnerable and nervous as he waited for your answer.
You merely smiled, “Arthur,” you breathed as you placed your hands against his chest and pushed him until his back hit the wall. He gazed down at you through heavy lidded eyes with the ghost of a smirk on his face. You threaded your fingers through his soft hair as you stood up on your tiptoes and pressed your lips against his.
Arthur sighed into your mouth as he pulled you closer as he kissed you back. When you pulled away you smiled at him and ran your fingers over his lips, giggling as he kissed them, “I care for you too Arthur.”
You looked around the cave. It went back about four meters and was wide enough for them both to be able to move around comfortably. Not that Arthur would be moving much for a while. If the cave had ever been used by animals, they were long gone now. That was a relief. You didn’t want to be there if a momma bear had made it her den. Your pistol wouldn’t be enough to stop a mad bear. You weren't even sure it would be enough to stop the Pinkertons now. You reached into your pocket. You had maybe 20 bullets left, including the few rounds still in your gun. You made sure to load the gun and keep it nearby anyway, just in case.
You kneeled next to Arthur. He was officially unconscious. That last tumble had knocked him out cold. That was probably for the best. The last thing you needed now was Arthur’s screaming bringing the Pinkertons down on them. You cut off the cloth surrounding Arthur’s leg. The bullet had gone straight through. You let out a sigh of relief. That would make it a little easier, at least. You pulled off his satchel and started sifting through it, looking for something, anything, that could help you treat Arthur. He had a few tonics but no bandages or alcohol. You groaned. That was going to make this a lot harder. You looked around the cave as if that would actually help. Well, maybe a little. You found a bunch of cobwebs in the corner. If you didn’t have cloth to stop the bleeding, this apparently worked well and it was all that you had. You pressed the webs to Arthur’s leg. You held down as much pressure as you could until blood stopped seeping through. It would have to do until they could get off this damned mountain.
You poured a little bit of water over your hands to get the blood off. You’d have to find something to clean the blood and dirt from Arthur’s face. He wasn’t looking too good. Micah had definitely done some damage. You wouldn’t be surprised if his nose was broken. Your heart ached in your chest as you looked at the sorry state your friend was in. At least the bastard was dead. He was finally dead. It was too late for it to change anything, but it made you feel better to know he was gone.
You looked at your battered button down. It was too dirty to be used for bandages, but… but your chemise would be in much better shape. You looked at Arthur to make sure he was still passed out before peeling off your shirt and the undergarment. You quickly put the shirt back on, making quick work of the buttons. The chemise wasn’t in great condition, but if you were able to get down to the river and back, you could at least make it a little bit cleaner and use it to help clean Arthur up.
You sat by the lichen curtain for what felt like an eternity before you determined it was safe enough to venture out. Still, you refused to let your guard down even for a second. You slowly made your way down. You were careful not to let a single rock fall down out of place. Barely a sound left you as you waited to hear the shouts of the Pinkertons coming down on you. You had heard them milling about when you first got to the cave and you were still scared that they would find Arthur defenseless. But you didn’t have any other choice; not if you wanted him to live and keep all of his limbs.
It took too long to reach the little stream. It took too long to rinse the dirt and sweat from the chemise and it took too long to get back. Every moment that you spent out in the open was a moment when someone could be watching. A moment when you could be leading the Pinkertons right to you. You hoped that they were focusing their attention on Dutch. He was the one that Milton had been obsessed with. Maybe, maybe they could forget about Arthur Morgan and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) for a couple of days. You knew it was too much to ask for after everything they had done. Every bad thing that they had done in the name of Dutch van der Linde. They truly had been fools to listen to his speeches for so long.
You looked around like a wild animal before climbing through the lichen. Arthur was right where you had left him. At least he was still breathing. For now. Blood had started to come through the temporary cobweb bandage. It was worth the risk to clean the chemise, then, at least. You pulled out your knife and started to cut the fabric into thin sheets. You had made sure to fill two canteens with water. One for drinking, the other to finish your work cleaning Arthur up. You found his coffee tin and filled it with the water. You couldn’t risk starting a fire right now. It was still too soon.
You dipped the strips into water and got to work dressing the bullet wound on his leg. You were careful not to cut off circulation. It wasn’t the first time she’d been forced to deal with something like this. Arthur was lucky that the bullet had missed major arteries. Otherwise, she’d be dealing with a corpse right now. The thought made you shudder. You shook your head and dipped another strip of fabric into water. Gently, you started to clean all of the dried blood and dirt from his face. You emptied the coffee mug at least three times before you got all of it. He looked better. Kind of. More like himself. He’d gotten into worse scraps in bar fights before. You started to unbutton his shirt and union suit. Micah had probably given him a few good kicks to the ribs.
Sure enough, there were blossoming bruises of purple and blue forming on his chest and sides. There wasn’t much that you could do for bruises. You leaned your head against his chest and listened to his breathing. Considering all he had been through in the last several hours, it was steady. You let out a breath that you hadn’t known she’d been holding. You could get him through this. You had to get him through this. The thought of being alone right now… it was more than you could bear. You had lost so much of your family already. How could you bear to lose one more member?
You quickly buttoned his clothes up again. You took your jacket and balled it up. You placed it under Arthur’s head. You hoped it would give him some relief from the stone floor. As for you, you stayed by the entrance with your gun drawn, listening and waiting for any signs of Pinkertons coming by. Even the sound of an animal passing by made you nervous. You had never been this jumpy in the past. Perhaps that was because then, you knew that you had someone watching your back. While Arthur was passed out, it was just you. No one would be there to save you if you were caught. Another thought that made a shiver go down your spine. No back up. No one to rely on but yourself. Right then. Back to the way it used to be. You made do in the past. You’d do it again.
For two nights, you refused to sleep, even for a second. You were too scared that the second you let yourself be vulnerable would be when the Pinkertons would lead a raid against this little hideaway. Arthur occasionally spoke in his sleep. Once or twice you caught him with his eyes open but it was only for a moment or two. Then, he’d be back out. On the third night, you were finally ready to let yourself rest. You were getting sluggish. That would be worse than anything if the Pinkertons did manage to find them, somehow. So, you laid your head down next to Arthur, hoping his easy breathing would lull you to sleep.
The first thing you noticed was how warm he was. You weren't that close to him but you could feel the heat radiating off of his body. You sat up and pressed a hand to his forehead. He was burning up. You cursed under your breath for the umpteenth time. Without money, you couldn’t just go out and buy something to help him. You had to hope that Arthur had something. With that frail hope, you started scouring his satchel for anything that could help. There wasn’t anything you recognised and too many labels had been scratched off the vials. Without Arthur awake to identify them, you could accidentally kill him. You opened his journal. It was an invasion of his privacy, but you had to hope that he’d written something about it in there. You scanned the pages quickly but there was nothing about what those vials held. You tossed the journal to the ground. More than anything you wanted to scream.
You were glad you didn’t. If you had, you would have missed the sound of something metallic falling from the journal. In the darkness you could just barely make out the shape of a key. You held it up. You knew this key. You had seen it so many times in Dutch’s tent when you were barely paying attention. It was the key to the chest where the gang kept all of their money. Abigail said that Dutch had been keeping it under a wagon in the tunnels. If you could get there and to a town, you might be able to stop the fever before it turned into something you couldn’t take care of on your own. It was just you. You were quick enough to get in and out undetected, right? You looked back at Arthur. You didn’t have any other choice.
It was decided. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, whispering a good luck charm your mother used on you when you had nightmares as a child, before leaving the cave. It was hard to ignore the unnatural heat that emanated off of his body. You had emptied Arthur’s satchel, lining up the supplies neatly. It would be the only thing you had to carry as much money as you could out of that chest, provided Dutch hadn’t already sent Bill and Javier back for it. If you were faced with them, would you have the strength to put a bullet in them? You really hoped so.
<i>I should’ve put one in Dutch when I had the chance,</i> you thought to yourself.
Instantly, you were repulsed and relieved and mad and confused. You had looked up to Dutch for so long. It still felt wrong to think ill of him, even after everything that had happened. After everything he had done. After getting Hosea killed. You took a moment to close your eyes and calm down. You needed to be calm when you got to those tunnels. You’d burned down the ladder. You could jump down that way, but how were you going to get back out? It was too high for you to jump out. You could maybe pull boxes over and up the first ladder. If it wasn’t affixed to the wall, you would just take that ladder. Whatever happened, you had to make sure that you got out of there alive and with something to show for it if you wanted Arthur to survive the next week.
You reached the hidden entrance by the time that dawn broke. There had been one Pinkerton patrol that passed but they had seemed completely uninterested in what they were doing. None of them believed that anyone had been stupid enough to stay on the mountain, much less come back for nothing. You could use that to your advantage. In and out before anyone noticed. That was your goal. You tightened the strap of the satchel before jumping down into the caves once more.
You landed with a soft groan. You let your hands hit the sandy ground. You stayed still for a moment. The air still smelled like kerosene. When you determined you couldn’t hear anything in the tunnels, you started moving. You kept a painstakingly slow pace as you walked. You knew that even if they weren’t in the caves, one sound would echo too far out. You’d be discovered in an instant. You made your way to the wagon. Sure enough, the chest was hidden there, barely covered by a blanket. Instinctively you looked around the cave before pulling the key from the satchel. You opened the chest and was taken aback by just how much was actually there. You started loading the satchel with as much cash as you could. You made sure to avoid coins or gold bars. You didn’t need the noise or the weight. It didn’t matter if it was bills or bonds, you needed it to get Arthur his medicine.
You headed to the mouth of the cave, hiding behind what was left of Dutch’s tent. There weren’t any Pinkertons around the camp. You were certain that would change soon. You moved quickly, silently, towards the tree line. Your foot hit something, sending it flying a few feet across the ground. You stopped. You listened for any other disturbance before moving forward. You looked down at what you had kicked. It was an old copy of <i>Antigone</i> that Hosea had given to you a decade ago. With a twinge in your chest, you stuffed it into the satchel and kept moving. You had to keep moving if you wanted to get to Valentine. Maybe she’d find some unsuspecting fool on the road and you could steal his horse. You didn’t like the thought of leaving someone stuck but you couldn’t see any other options.
Arthur needed you.
There was a flash of white and a loud whinny. You pulled your gun. It seemed you were going to get that chance to shoot Dutch, after all. You made your way towards the horse quietly. But there was no one there. It was just the Count, still saddled up, wandering aimlessly through the forest. His bright blue eyes met your green ones and he stopped. He recognised you. You put away your gun and held up your hands. It was like you were surrendering to the horse. He held his head back away from you, huffing.
“Easy there, boy, easy,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you walked forward. “Easy now,”
The Count didn’t relax as you got nearer, but he didn’t run away, either. You offered a few more words of encouragement before you dared pat the proud beast’s neck.
“That’s it, boy. Good boy. He’s left you, too, hasn’t he?”
The Count huffed in response, leaning into your touch.
“Yeah, he seems to do that a lot these days. How about you and I go together? How’s that?”
You started to go to the left of the Count. His back legs hit the ground heavily as he kicked. You held up your hand again. You reached into your pocket and pulled out a couple of sugarcubes. You always kept them for the horses. You had never taken them out. You held the sugar out to the Count. He took them gladly, munching quietly while you got onto his back. Instantly, the horse started to try and buck you off. You held on tightly to the reins. You refused to give up easily. A few moments passed of this. It was enough to make you feel dizzy by the time the Count finally calmed down. You were breathing heavily and your hands hurt from gripping the reins so tightly. You patted the horse’s neck.
“There, now that wasn’t so bad, was it? C’mon, we gotta get to Valentine. Yah!”
You dug your heels into the Count’s side, spurring him into action. You knew the way from here. If you stayed to the backroads, it would take half a day to get there. You looked up at the sun. It was still hanging low in the east. It was early morning. If you were lucky, she’d get back to Arthur as dusk rolled around. You prayed to whatever was out there that he’d survive that long. You needed him to survive that long.
The Count slowly grew more relaxed as they rode together. Maybe he was starting to respect you. Or maybe he’d just resigned himself to his fate. Either way, you had a fast, strong horse and that was all that mattered right now.
Valentine came into view as the sun reached its peak. You urged the Count to move faster. You were desperate to get back to the cave. If Arthur woke up while you was gone, he’d probably do something stupid like try to walk out of there. On his leg, he’d just fall down and hurt himself even worse. In his condition, you doubted he’d even feel a thing until it was too late. The thought of him dying alone in that cave hurt you more than the thought of him dying. You didn’t stop pushing the Count forward until you could see the hitching post in front of the doctor’s office.
You couldn’t help but burst through the doors. You were certain that you looked wild when you came in. Your hat was barely containing untamed, unruly hair as you walked to the counter. The doctor eyed you up and down. Clearly, he thought you didn’t have money.
“How can I help you, ma’am?” he asked.
“I… I need medicine. My, erm, my <i>husband’s</i> gotta fever in a bad way. He was out huntin’ with some folk and this wolf bit him in the leg. I’ve done what I can, but we ain’t got clean bandages or nothin’ to help with the fever. I’m just, I’m scared. I gotta get back to him quick as I can otherwise, I… I don’t know what’ll happen to him,” you stammered out.
The doctor looked you up and down again. “You got money?” You reached into your satchel and pulled out a stack of bills. “All right then, I’ll get you set up. Wait here for a moment.”
So you waited. You waited impatiently for the man to come back with the things that you needed. It wasn’t even an act, the things you had said. As you spoke to the first person she’d seen in three days that was coherent, all of your worry had come spilling out in your voice. The doctor came back with a bag. He carefully laid out all of the items.
“Clean bandages, enough for a couple of days. Sutures and a needle for those bites. Have him drink this to help with the fever. If you find elderberries, use the blossoms to brew some tea for him. As for his leg, this’ll help with the pain. And alcohol to keep it clean.” The doctor carefully packed everything back up.
You took the bag like it was a lifeline, carefully holding on to it before placing the entire stack of bills on the counter. You didn’t care if it was just enough or too much. You had to get back to Arthur with all of this. You placed the bag in the Count’s saddle bag. Before you raced off, you had the sense to stop by the general store, too. You bought blankets and food, along with a couple bottles of whiskey and a new pair of jeans for Arthur. You carefully stored everything on the Count. The horse barely moved as you did. It was the first time he was reluctant to do something you wanted. You gently patted the Count’s neck, thanking him before getting back in the saddle and riding off again. Back towards the mountain. Back towards Arthur.
After two weeks of nonstop treatment, Arthur’s face was finally starting to look better. You hadn’t risked another trip into town. Now that Arthur was up and moving, you wanted to be with him. The last thing that they needed was for him to think he was doing better than he actually was while you were gone and hurting himself again. Or worse, getting caught by the Pinkertons. You didn’t even want to imagine the torture they would go through before they were killed. It was sure to be a slow and painful death, especially after what Abigail had done to Milton. Arthur described it once, the gruesome reality of having someone’s brains sprayed directly onto his face. You had, of course, seen a bullet go through more than a couple of skulls, usually from your own gun, but you had always been a safe distance away and never really had to face the aftermath. You figured that whoever had found Milton hadn’t seen it up close or at all. No, there would be no mercy for them now.
You forced Arthur to his feet. He didn’t protest verbally, but you could see the complaint in his eyes. Even after years of going through this kind of shit, he was still reluctant. Imagine that. He was always so proactive on jobs and helping out others, it was strange to see him so unwilling to do something to help himself. You had no qualms about dragging him out of the cave if it was necessary. Thankfully, Arthur would listen to you. Usually. Even now, as he leaned heavily against you, he was still walking forward.
“That’s it. Just a couple more feet,” you promised.
“You said that already,” Arthur huffed.
“Gotta keep you on your toes. Literally. C’mon, what happened to Arthur Morgan? The guy who could intimidate the world’s strongest man? The guy who, if your ridiculous campfire stories are to be trusted, fought a lion?”
Arthur groaned. “Don’t remind me. That damned Margaret or whatever his name was nearly got me killed. Did get a lot of folk killed down at Emerald Ranch, all to give me some piece a junk for my troubles.”
“Sure he did.”
You chuckled softly. A part of you didn’t believe anything like that could ever have happened, but they were far enough east around that time that you would have believed anything was possible. You looked up at him. He was staring at the ground with an intense expression. All of his energy was focused on getting his leg back up to full strength. He’d been sitting around in that cave for too long. When he stood up for the first time, he immediately fell back on his ass, clutching his wounded leg and grimacing. You had gone out into the woods to take care of the Count after that. You found that the white steed had taken a liking to you. If he was close enough, he’d come to the sound of your voice. You made sure that that pretty white coat of his stayed white and lustrous. While you were out there in the woods, you fashioned a fallen branch into a kind of staff for Arthur to make walking a little easier. Now, he was insisting that he didn’t need it. You had some requests of your own, such as taking him down the mountain side and back. Not all the way, of course. Just a few meters away from the cave. It was still well within view.
The real challenge was getting the food you cooked to stay in their stomachs. The food you’d bought at the general store had run out in a week. Since Arthur was awake, you felt comfortable going out to do some hunting. However, if you tried to do anything more than roast whatever game you’d managed to catch, it never turned out right. It wasn’t like they had a plethora of ingredients, but it wasn’t pleasant. It was, somewhat, better than having nothing. Hopefully, they’d be off this mountain soon.
“Hey, y’know what I could really go for?” Arthur asked.
“What?”
“Some fish. Dutch’s old rod was in with the Count’s things and I’ve always got mine handy. How’s about we head down to a nice place and try to catch somethin’?”
“Arthur Morgan, suggestin’ that we go fishin’? Now I’ve seen everything.” You didn’t bother trying to hide your grin. “Stay here, I’ll grab the rods.”
You quickly ran back to the cave, crawling inside and grabbing what they needed. You took a few scraps of bread and cheese, too, in case they needed some extra bait. Arthur was waiting somewhat eagerly for you to come back. You helped him move down the more tricky parts of the mountain. There were more than a few places that could get a little steep and slick if one step was wrong. They were following the small stream you’d discovered hidden in one of the many crevices. It was about 20 minutes of walking (mostly because they had to stop every now and then to let Arthur rest) to get to the spring the stream fed into.
Your breath was taken away as you looked at the sight before you. Crystal blue water stretched out just far enough. Vegetation was spread all around them. Some of the plants you knew, but most you couldn’t name off the top of your head. The water reflected the beauty around them. It was somewhat obscured, but that only added to it. The stream fed into the spring like a small waterfall, ensuring that the area would never be completely silent. Not even the lowest part of the rocks reached the surface, standing several inches above the water. A perfect fishing spot.
“Wow,” you spoke quietly.
“Wow indeed,” Arthur agreed.
Without another word, they both put together their rods, sharing the bait. You moved a few paces away to keep their lines from getting crossed. They sat in silence for a long time. It was comfortable. Perfect, unlike that first night Arthur had been awake. In a place like this, it was easy to forget fear and just… live. Really live and be human for a few fleeting moments. That was all that you really wanted now. Precious moments, surrounded by beauty.
Arthur stopped fidgeting and looked up. You glanced back at him. He was staring at the sky in wonder. His mouth was slightly agape and blue-green eyes were wide. You turned to see what he was looking at.
The sun was slowly setting in the west. From where they were, they actually had a pretty good view of it. The fading sun cast a glow of orange over the tops of the trees. The usual blue of the sky was melting into the oranges and yellows. The clouds were a light pinkish colour, lazily floating towards nothing. Purples meshed with reds, light and dark came together and it was only for a few moments. Before anything else could be seen or said, the moment was gone.
Arthur closed his mouth. There was a soft smile traced across his lips still. You stared at the retreating sun for a moment. It really was something else. No matter how many sunsets you saw, you would never get used to the sight of them. Each one of them was so different from the last, so unique.
“I missed the sun,” Arthur said.
“We can see it from the cave,” you shrugged.
“Yeah, but you know that ain’t the same as standing in a place like this and watchin’ it. Don’t try and fool yourself now.”
“Nah, I s’pose not. We better be headin’ back now. I don’t think any of our fish friends are interested in cheese.”
“Hold on! I’ve got somethin’!”
Arthur pulled back on the rod, reeling in whatever it was he had quickly. You watched in anticipation. Neither of them were expecting for his leg to give out at that exact moment.
Arthur was pulled into the water. He landed with a loud splash that sent water up over the rocks and onto you’s boots. Dread overtook you as you looked into the water. Arthur sputtered when he came back to the surface, wiping water from his eyes. He gave his head a good shake and held up the fishing rod.
“Had to cut the line to keep the rod,” he said.
“You okay?” you asked him. You hoped that your voice didn’t sound as worried as you felt.
“Yeah, I’m good. C’mon, help me outta here.”
You made your way down the rocks closer to the water’s edge. You found the spot closest to the water and held out your hand. Arthur swam over to you. His fingers wrapped around your wrist. You started to pull back but was met with a much greater force pulling you in. You barely had time to brace yourself before you were completely submerged. It took you a moment to get your bearings under water. Her eyes stung but you needed to look around. You found the surface and swam quickly. As soon as you were up, you took a deep gulp of fresh air into your lungs. Arthur was laughing like a madman. It wasn’t often that you heard Arthur laugh, but it did nothing to make you less angry at him. You sent a wave of water his way.
“You dumbass! Now we’re both soaked!” You complained.
“Ah, you’re enjoyin’ yourself, don’t lie.” Arthur was still smiling and trying not to laugh. “You need to do that, y’know. Take a little time for yourself. God knows you’ve spent enough of it on an old fool like me.”
“Fool? Yes. Old? No. If you’re old, then so am I and I ain’t ready for that conversation yet. And as for lookin’ out for you? If I didn’t do it, who would?” Arthur opened his mouth to say something back. “All right, will this shut you up? I’ll promise to watch you if you promise to watch me. We’ll take care of each other. Deal?”
You held out your hand expectantly. Arthur didn’t hesitate to take it in his own. His palms were rough and calloused. You were sure that yours felt much the same to him. They shook on it, making it official. You pulled your hand away. As Arthur turned around, you put your hands on his shoulders and pushed down with all of your strength. He was completely submerged. You let out a laugh of your own until you felt his hand on your ankle. Just like that, you were back underwater. You could just barely make out Arthur swimming back for air. You did the same. You pushed your hair out of your face. It was the first time that you had smiled in what felt like months.
You laid on your back and let yourself float. You looked up at the night sky. If Arthur was feeling this good, then their days on the mountain were numbered. If it was just the two of them, they could get off with relative ease. They could even make it back west, if they tried. Find someplace far away from the trains and settle there. Together. Make some kind of a life for whatever time that they had left. You wasn’t going back to being an outlaw. You knew that you could, if you really wanted to. You had been doing well for yourself before Arthur found you. Somehow, it felt wrong to think about going back to that life without the rest of the gang by your side.
Arthur entwined his fingers with yours. You looked over at him. He was staring at the sky, too. As you looked back up, you wondered what was causing that pensive look on his face. Was he worried about the same things you were? All you knew was that he was there and present. With his hand in your own, you could forget about the rest of the world. It was just the two of them in this moment, in their little secret spring. They were unburdened by the need for conversation. The only sound was the soft trickle of the stream.
Arthur let you go and swam to the edge. He pulled himself out of the water. Arthur shook his body like he was a dog, running his fingers through his hair. He leaned down and held out a hand to you. You swam over tentatively and took it. You still didn’t entirely trust Arthur now, not after that stunt. But there were no tricks up Arthur’s sleeve, not this time. He pulled you up with little difficulty, considering his leg wound.
You stood next to him for a moment, inches away from being flush against his chest. They had been forced to be close together over the past couple of weeks, sure, but this felt different somehow. You took a step back to get rid of the feeling. You didn’t like it and you didn’t like who was causing it.
On the sodden trek back to their temporary home, you kept your arms tight around yourself. By the time they got back to the cave, you were shivering. You made your way into the cave and started gathering up the blankets.
“Make sure to get out of those wet clothes, Arthur. The last thing we need is one of us catchin’ pneumonia,” you warned.
He nodded, facing towards the back of the cave as he started to unbutton his shirt. You stared at his back for longer than you should have. When you turned to face your own wall, your cheeks were burning. Quickly, you took off your own clothes and wrapped one of the blankets around yourself tightly. You set the clothes close to the entrance. You sat against one of the walls and leaned your head back. You let yourself dream of the virgin west for a short while before taking watch.
You raced back towards the mountain. Even though you knew the danger, you weren't nearly as cautious as you should have been. You had been gone for too long already. You didn’t want to waste another second. Not when you had everything that you needed to keep Arthur alive. You dismounted the Count several meters away from the cave’s entrance, leaving the horse loosely hitched just inside the treeline. There was no doubt in your mind that he would leave as soon as he got free. You didn’t mind so much now. You’d gotten what you needed. You gently took off the Count’s saddle and grabbed the blanket. The nights were just going to get colder. They were going to need any kind of warmth that they could get.
“Thank you,” you whispered, resting your forehead against the Count’s strong side. The horse shuddered slightly as you moved away again.
You made the climb back up the mountain. Your head was on a constant swivel as you looked for patrols and listened for the slightest disturbance of the loose rock. Anything that could mean you was being followed. This was the most cautious you had been since you was just a teenager fending for yourself. This was the most vulnerable you had felt since you’d joined the gang. Funny how a gang of criminals could have made you feel so safe.
You crawled back through the lichen and found Arthur laying right where you had left him. None of the supplies had been disturbed. You started biting the inside of your cheek. That wasn’t a good sign. You were easily gone for an entire day, yet he hadn’t moved at all. You walked over to him and placed your hand on his forehead again. If it was possible, he felt even warmer. You dipped one of the few remaining pieces of scrap cloth into the cold water, placing it on his forehead. He groaned softly. That was a good sign. He was still semi-aware of his surroundings. You did whatever you could to keep your thoughts off of Arthur coming back from the O’Driscoll camp, bloody and weak. The shot to his shoulder had been much worse, sure, but he’d also had much more capable people than you taking care of him. What if you weren't able to save him? What if he died in this cave?
It was a thought you had to keep at bay while you removed the torn up chemise bandages from his leg. The sight of it made you wince. It didn’t look great. At least it wasn’t infected. You grabbed one of the bottles of whiskey. You took out the cork with your teeth, spitting it somewhere in the cave. You took a quick swig before pouring some of the alcohol on his leg.
Arthur’s eyes shot open. Immediately, You clamped a hand over his mouth. It didn’t do nearly enough to hide his exclamation of pain. He looked at you with a wild look in his eyes. You pressed a finger to your lips and pointed to the entrance of the cave. They weren’t safe yet. Arthur nodded and laid back down. He was awake. You kept your sigh of relief inside as you went back to work on his leg.
“Good to see you again, Mr. Morgan,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Where are we?” Arthur asked, grimacing as he moved to get up again.
You pushed him back down gently. “A cave on Mount Hagen.”
“We’re still on the mountain?”
“I couldn’t get you much further than that. I was lucky to find this place.”
“How long’s it been?”
“Three days, I think. Here, drink this.” You pushed the vial the doctor had given you into his hands. “You’ve got quite the fever. Drink.”
Arthur complied. You set the needle and sutures out and looked at his leg. You had done this a couple of times on yourself. It had to be easier on someone else, right? Arthur looked at you with a nervous expression. You sent back a confident smile, threading the needle. You kept one arm firm against his leg while you got to work. He did his best to be silent, but the cave amplified sounds. You could hear every groan and whimper that came from this mountain of a man. It made you smile a bit. He was still human. It also meant that he had feeling in his leg.
“Roll over. Gotta get the other side, too,”
Arthur did as you asked. “Hand me that whiskey, would ya?”
You did as he asked. “Try not to drink yourself into a stupor. Need you somewhat lucid.”
“Whatever you say.”
You gave the other side of Arthur’s leg the same treatment. When you were done, you had him on his back again. You started wrapping his leg in the clean bandages. Finally, finally it was properly taken care of. At least, as proper as it could be from someone with very little experience in this area. You sat back, leaning on your hands and looking up at the ceiling of the cave. You didn’t feel safe. You weren't sure that you’d ever feel safe again. But you weren't alone, either. You glanced at Arthur. He was sitting up against one of the larger rocks, taking inventory of all his limbs. He was moving. You stood and went to the saddlebags. You pulled out a can of beans and tossed them to Arthur.
“Eat. You gotta keep your strength up,” you said.
“What about you?”
You held up a can of peaches. “Don’t you worry about me. I’m not the one who got the shit beaten out of them.”
They sat in silence while they ate. It wasn’t the same comradery that it had always been in camp, where silence meant safety. No, this was the silence of two people that knew their time was even more limited than usual. The kind of silence that came with fear. Neither of them would admit to the other that they were scared, but it hung in the air nonetheless. You set your can aside and pulled your knees to your chest.
“Beats stew,” Arthur joked.
“Well, Pearson’s stew, at least,” You chuckled. “I mean, how many times can you make the same damn thing? No matter what we brought him, it always tasted the same.”
“Y’know what he’d say. Once it’s in the pot, it’s beef.”
They both laughed. For a moment, they forgot about any danger their laughter could bring because who cared? Arthur held his side and winced. You moved towards him, taking his temperature again. It wasn’t better, but it wasn’t any worse, either. You looked into his can of beans. He’d barely touched them. You gave him a look. Eat, it says. Arthur sheepishly takes another mouthful. You leaned back again, watching and making sure that he finished the whole damn can. He hadn’t eaten anything in three days. That was probably why his fever had gotten so bad. You didn’t know for sure. All of this was new to you. It had always been Susan or Reverend Swanson or Abigail that took care of the sick people in camp. Only, they weren’t in camp, anymore. They would never be in that camp again, with it’s easy atmosphere and friendly faces. Even if you got in a fight with someone, it would be resolved simply enough and they’d be back to being friends in no time. How could all of that just be gone?
“How’d you find me, anyhow?” Arthur asked, taking another bite.
“I left John to head back. I saw Micah headin’ towards where I last saw you and just… saw red, I suppose. Couldn’t let the bastard get away with all of that shit, y’know? When I finally found you two, you were already in a bad way. Micah was aimin’ for ya so I shot first. He fell over the ridge and I carried you as far as I could before findin’ this place.” You rolled your shoulders. “I couldn’t watch another person I loved die.”
Your last words were just barely above a whisper. Arthur nodded. You looked at the ground. You moved the sand with your finger, drawing simple designs.
How much longer could they hide here? It was so close to where the final moment of the Van der Linde gang took place. Surely, Pinkertons would find this place eventually. They wouldn’t leave it alone. You remembered Arthur talking about returning to Shady Belle. That had been over a week since the gang’s disappearance. How long would it be before they starved? Before they were found? Before one or both of them died? You couldn’t stop the steady stream of thoughts invading your mind.
They couldn’t leave until Arthur had his strength back, that much was certain. There was no gurantee that the Count had stayed put. If he hadn’t, You weren't sure that your whistle would bring the horse back to you. Even if Arthur’s bruises healed quickly, he wouldn’t be able to walk quickly for at least a month. They’d need a horse to get away fast enough. How long were they going to be trapped like sitting ducks?
You stood up. “Get some rest, Arthur. I’m gonna keep watch. And drink some water, too.”
You didn’t wait for his response before stepping just outside the lichen curtain. You took a few steps away from the cave. Your pistol felt heavier in your hand. You looked at the inlaid metal. It didn’t look familiar anymore. It was like this gun belonged to someone else and you were just an imposter. Who was you now? Still an outlaw, sure, but that was a title you adopted because of Dutch.
Oh, what a fool you had been to waste all of that time on him. 12 years. 12 years you had trusted, loved, and helped that man and for what? All of that was over. If you were feeling this bad over 12 years, you could only imagine how Arthur felt. He was only four years older than you, but he had been with Dutch for 20 years. That was most of his life. He had done bad things in the name of Dutch van der Linde. Things that already ate at him inside, even if they were for the right reasons. You let out a heavy sigh. It wasn’t going to be easy, but you were going to survive. You were going to make sure Arthur did, too. You owed him that much, at least.
You’d survived Guarma, right? This was going to be a piece of cake compared to that. You shuddered at the memory. The heat bearing down on your back. The fear that you’d never get to return home. You knew that you’d never get to see Hosea again. That hurt worse than any bullet wound you’d gotten over the years.
You reached into your pocket and pulled out the old copy of <i>Antigone</i>. The pages were worn. Some were tearing away from the binding, but it was the first gift Hosea had ever given you. You’d been able to read when the gang picked you up, but it wasn’t much more than bounty posters. It was Hosea who actually made you read books. Once you started, you couldn’t stop. You were on a constant search for something interesting to read. <i>Antigone</i> was the first play you’d read and you fell in love. Hosea had made a point to get this for you the next time they’d stopped. Made a big show of it, too. Him and Bessie. They always treated you like you were their own child and they would never know just how much you appreciated that.
You looked up at the night sky and the slowly emerging stars. You hoped that they were looking at you with pride now. You hoped that you were doing the right thing. Most of all, you hoped that you wouldn’t have to face your friends again. Even after everything that they had been through together, You knew that a meeting like that would end with one of them shot and dying in the dirt.
Well, the stars were still the same. It was the only thing that you could count on, really, that the stars would always be the same stars. Sure, some things changed with the seasons, but you could always find the stars. For now, you occupied your mind with finding the North Star. It stood out amongst the rest of the sky. A shining beacon to bring you home. Back to safety. All at once, you're a young woman again, just barely 19, sitting next to Dutch by a dying bonfire.
<i>“You can always find your way home with the North Star,” he had said, “because we’ll always be waitin’ for you to come back.”
“Always? That’s a pretty steep promise, Mr. Van der Linde,” You quipped. You could just barely contain the smile threatening to cross your lips.
He put an arm over your shoulders. “How many times I gotta tell you to call me Dutch? We’re family, now. You, me, Hosea. I s’pose those boys over there, too.” Dutch gestured to John and the others. Arthur had Bill in a headlock and Bill was struggling to get out. It was futile. You finally let out a small laugh. “Atta girl.”</i>
You wiped your eyes. This wasn’t the end, you told yourself. It was just the beginning. A new adventure. Another chapter in your life and this time, you weren't starting it alone.
