HIS | Arthur Morgan X Reader

New Friends in Roanoke

The man you loved; the father of your unborn child, you watched as he left again.

Feeling your chest contract, you will yourself not to cry, knowing that tears will not remedy the situation. You see him ride away on his horse, dust kicking up as he gallops away. How had the day ended like this? This morning you'd been happy, surrounded by Arthur's scent, enjoying his touch, thinking of what name your unborn child may bear, what your wedding day may look like. Now that all seemed so far away, a distant memory. Hosea was gone, Arthur was gone, Dutch hated you, and half the gang probably agreed with him. You felt so alone.

"Where's Arthur going?" John jogs over wiping his face of blood and tears. The mask of a hardened outlaw replacing the look of a young man who just watched his father die.

"To kill Colm." You reply, void of emotion as you turn and begin packing your things.

"What!?" He grabs your arm, spinning you to face him. "He's going to get himself killed!"

You nod your head, not trusting yourself to speak as tears threaten to spill.

"Did he say what his plan was?"

You hear the desperation and worry in John's voice and you're not sure if it's from fear of losing someone else or from the knowledge that he is now responsible for Abigail, Jack, and his brother's pregnant wife.

"There's a cabin North of Annesburg, he said you know about it?" You shake your arm loose and continue to pack your things.

John frowns then nods as he follows you into the tent. "What about it?"

"He said you're to take us there." You shove Hosea's box into his hands. "That's the money Hosea left; we'll use it to buy what we need until we can get to Dutch's stash."

John strokes the lid gently, his fingers tracing lines of the 'H'. "Did he say when he'd be back?"

The question is too much, and you drop down to the bed and bury your face in your hands, sobbing gently as you realize you may never see him alive again. He'd left once before, to get you a ring, but this felt different. This felt final. You had no idea if you'd ever see him alive again.

"I don't think he can survive this John; he's going to get himself killed and it's because of me."

John sits beside you on the bed, pulling your head to his chest as he wraps his arms around you, his hand stroking gently across your hair to soothe you.

"Y/N listen to me, I don't know what Arthur's plan is, but I know he ain't stupid. I've seen that man walk away from fights where he's outnumbered five to one and he never has a scratch on him. Colm doesn't stand a chance. We'll head up north to the cabin and wait for him."

You nod your head against John's chest, forcing yourself to believe his words. Arthur wasn't stupid in a fight, but he wasn't invincible either. One day he may not walk away.

John leaves you to finish packing as he goes to gather up Abigail, Jack, and their things. You quickly throw anything you can find into your pack. As you begin to toss in blankets from the bed a book falls to the ground. Frowning you pick it up, examining the leather cover and strap that holds it closed.

Arthur's journal.

He must have forgotten to put it in his satchel after your morning activities. Drawing the leather to your nose you inhale deeply, smelling the binding and faint scent of tobacco. You'd never asked Arthur what was in the journal, choosing to let him share it with you when he wanted. Feeling it too precious to leave behind you toss it into your pack along with a few of his shirts. Whether he'd wear them again or not you'd soon be far too large for your own.