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yeet-or-be-hawed · 4 years

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Arthur’s Adventures- “Contemplation”

I’m not sure how much attention this will get, but I wanted more content of just Arthur himself. Arthur’s Adventures will be non-linear stories, based on little interactions and ideas I’ve had for him. No romance, just good ol’ Arthur being Arthur. I’ve got a few more ideas, and depending on how well they go will depend on how many I write.

After a gunfight, Arthur gets himself a bath and reflects on his past actions and how its beginning to negatively affect him. After encountering someone he had once saved, his heart feels lighter and begins his transition into being a good man.

Masterlist

Arthur didn’t make eye contact with the man at the front desk, he barely muttered his request for a bath-being covered head to toe in blood and grime made his request apparent had the man not heard him properly. He was quick to remove his clothing, the cold winter air penetrating every cranny, slipping between every groove between boards and into the steamy room. His muscles were sore, his whole body ached as his skin hit the hot water in the tub. He could feel his age seeping into his bones.

He frowned at his forearms as he scrubbed the furiously. The dried blood was stubborn, clumping his arm hair and staining his skin. Memories from earlier that day flashed in his mind: a shootout, men falling, the smell of gun smoke and blood. He was the cause of the brawl, and he was the cause of the deaths of the men who would not return to their beds. It used to not bother him so much, in fact he used to take pride in his actions. He was a killing machine, a damn good one at that.

What had changed him so? When did the feeling of pride and accomplishment get replaced with the feeling of damnation and shame? He scrubbed some more, the blood was gone but he could still feel it on his hands.

A knock pulled him from his thoughts, “need some help in there dear?” A kind voice called from behind the door.

“No!” He cried, immediately embarrassed by the insecurity in his voice. He cleared his throat, “no, I’m fine.” He said calmly.

“Okay then, have a nice day.” The voice responded, he waited until he could no longer hear her footsteps before returning to scrubbing himself. The water was tinged with the color of rust-the color of blood.

He wondered what she would’ve said had he allowed her to bathe him. Would she have held her poker face as she scrubbed the dried blood with her hand towel? Or would the color drain from her face as she made tried unsuccessfully to let it not phase her?

He grunted as he looked over his own body, he didn’t even feel human anymore. He felt like a monster, wrapped in the skin of a man. How many families had he robbed of their fathers? Or their brothers? How many wives would crumple are the corpse of their husbands after he made his escape? These were people he was killing, people with lives and families and responsibilities. He couldn’t deny himself anymore, he couldn’t tell himself every man deserved it- how many lawmen had he killed over the years? Men just doing their job.

He splashed himself in the face as his chest began to seize, he longed for a bottle in his hand to drown out the horrific thoughts that had invaded his mind space. He leaned his head back into the water and scrubbed his scalp. His eyes were closed, but he could feel what he couldn’t see. His hair was matted and clumped with sweat, mud, and more blood. With his eyes closed, he could escape to a secret fantasy that he seemed to yearn more for with every passing day.

He imagined the tub to be his own, in a cozy homestead nestled between the flat cliffs of New Austin. The cabin would be small- he didn’t need much as he never had much to begin with. He would have a bed- a real bed, not some worn out bedroll, a real mattress with sheets and a quilt- and a nice fire in the hearth. Sometimes there was a woman there, sometimes not depending on how he felt about himself. Today he saw himself as a monster, a wolf wearing his prey’s skin so there was no woman today. After his bath he would put on his day clothes, grab his bow, and roam the plains looking for pronghorns and white tails for supper. After a successful hunt, he would go into the nearest town and sell the carcass and skins to the local butcher. Everyone would wave to him and ask him about his day- his bounty would be paid off and he would make great friends with the townsfolk. He would have casual, honest conversation with the butcher like normal people do, without the fear of saying too much. He would then leave town without the fear of having the law on his tail. He would make his way home slowly, never in a hurry to get back, never worried about being ambushed by bounty hunters or someone needing him to do something when he returned home. He would cook his venison over an open fire, or maybe make a stew in the stew pot- he did learn quite a bit watching Pearson. After dinner, he would sit down with a book, or maybe his journal and relax in front of the fire. When he would get tired, he would make his way to his bed and sleep comfortably through the night. No nightmares, no drunken idiots waking him in the middle of the night, no one waking him at first light and sending him off to god knows where to do god knows what. He would wake up on his own, open his eyes, and do it all again the next day.

Except, when his eyes opened he was still in the hotel. His bath water was turning lukewarm, and he could still feel the blood of innocent men on his hands. He would not be returning to the cabin he could see so clearly in his mind, he would return to a camp of lost souls and when he laid his head down tonight, he would be tormented by the night terrors that haunted him everytime he closed his eyes.

He sighed heavily, was it normal to feel his heart break over the simple idea of a normal life? Or maybe the clenching feeling in his chest was reality kicking in- his logical side overriding and telling him it’ll just never be.

The water was room temperature now, his time was up and his body wasn’t comfortable in the tub. But he didn’t want to get out yet either. Getting out of the tub meant facing reality- his reality. He is not a normal man, he’s an outlaw. He doesn’t have a cozy bed to return to, but a caravan and a bedroll. And even though she wasn’t there this time, there wouldn’t be a beautiful woman waiting for him with open arms.

When he pulled himself from the tub, a shiver made its way down his spine, but he wasn’t as quick to pull his clothes back on as he was to get them off. He looked over himself as he placed the hat on his head- the mirror reflected a man, but he felt like a monster. The man looked at him with sad eyes, as if he knew something Arthur didn’t.

Again, a knock at the door pulled him to reality. “Everything alright in there?” This time it was the man from the front desk. His time was up and it was time to go.

He turned away from the sad man in the mirror, the longer he faced him the heavier his heart felt. When he opened the door, the man had returned to his post at the front. Arthur tipped his hat to the man and slipped him an extra two dollars, “sorry I ran ya behind.” He mumbled as he turned toward the door. The man tried to argue but Arthur kept going.

His horse was still tethered just outside the hotel, waiting patiently. “C’mon girl,” he said as he mounted and gave the reins a whip. She trotted slowly, the town was heavily congested in the midday rush.

“Mister, hey mister!”

Arthur turned his attention to the young girl walking towards him. She looked familiar, but he just couldn’t place why.

“Howdy mister,” she said when she reached him. His cheeks were pink and her smile was shy. “I thought what was you, I caught glance of you goin’ into the hotel but when I saw your face I knew it was you.” She twirled her hair around her finger as she spoke, her eyes would dare to look at him and then dart away quickly. “I don’t know if you remember me, but my horse went and twisted it’s ankle on me bout a month back. I had no one and then you showed up.” When she looked at him again, even he could see the admiration behind those eyes. “You got me home safe and sound, I don’t have much money but I promised myself I would properly thank you if I ever saw you again.” She reaches into her basket and pulled out a loaf of bread, wrapped in brown paper. “It was freshly baked this morning, I wish I could give you more. I was out there for hours and so many passed me by and you- you stopped with no hesitation. If we had more people in this world as good as you, it would be a better place.”

He opened his mouth to argue- him, a good man? Of course not, but it felt wrong to argue with such a kind face.

“I really should go,” she said as she handed him the loaf. Her small hands caught his and she held his gaze fiercely. “I’ll never forget you.”

Although she turned away quickly, he could see the rosy flush of her cheeks and his hands ached when hers left his. His heart felt lighter somehow, and he felt a little more human. He knew he wouldn’t be on this earth forever, but is it really too late for him? Damnation felt like a wild hound, nipping at his heels as he fled his own past but what if he stopped? What if he faced the bloodthirsty hound and changed it? He was out of excuses now, he was tired, and he wanted to change. He had been lying to himself for so long that he had convinced himself he wanted this- this life on the room with no guaranteed future except for death. He thought of the wad of money stuffed away in a hidden place only he knew- he had close to three thousand saved up now. He never knew what he was saving for but it felt clear now: his freedom. He would talk to Charles and Sadie, maybe John too. He didn’t want to be the bad man on the run anymore, he wanted to be the hero that girl thought he was- he wanted to be human.

#arthurs adventures #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fan fiction #rdr fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #van der linde gang

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