Hi everyone! This is sort of a different thing for me, so just bear with me. I started playing Red Dead II and I am absolutelyin lovewith Arthur Morgan. I was inspired by his loneliness (yeah, screw Mary - sorry not sorry) to write something with an OC who could give Mr. Morgan some love. After listening to his dialogue with Mary, I could only picture Arthur with someone (in a romantic way) who was just as fierce, and could be as rowdy as the rest of the gang. Sooooo my brain child Myra Alvron appeared. She's sassy, not super classy, but definitely bad-ass(y)? ANYWAY- she is my complete opposite (someone please teach me how to be an extrovert), and it was tough nail down exactly how I'd want to write her. It's also difficult to not make modern-sounding jokes, so I apologize in advance if there are any time-relative mistakes.

Onto the format: this is not a chapter-by-chapter story (unless at some point I decide to write up a backstory). It is a collection of drabbles/ one-shots about Arthur and my OC Myra being happy cow-people in 1899. Nothing necessarily takes place at a certain point in the gameplay, but I'll definitely reference location and might write Myra into one or two random side-quests. Most of these will be fluffy and happy (Arthur deserves it) about their actual relationship, and some will explore Myra's relationship with other members of Van der Linde Gang.

If you like, fave/follow, if not please don't be rude! I just have random thoughts and they come out as little stories like these. If you enjoy, let me know! It only takes one second out of your day to completely make mine! 3

P.S. - I'll try to put a little note/quote/reference/etc next to the chapter to give you an idea about the theme/moral/etc.

-LunaRoo

Chapter 1 - Knights in Shining Armor

Arthur Morgan was not a man for fairytales. The over-exaggerated princesses, and the knights in shining armor was all a bit much for him.

"Who in their right mind would wanna ride a horse with armor? It'd jus' slow you down."

Arthur was critical to a fault when it came to stories whose titles outright detailed its falsity.

"Oh, stop it you. It's a fairytale, not an autobiography!" Laughter which was nothing short of music to his ears rang out after the comeback. Nimble fingers carded through his hair once more, and the outlaw could do little more than sigh at the sensation.

Oh yes, Arthur might have held a certain abhorrence for fairytales. But he sure as shit was a sucker for a western romance.

"I ain't one for fairytales, Myra." He grunted, lazily opening his eyes to look at the woman above him.

They were perched high up on a rocky outcrop overlooking Moonstone Pond. The weather was gorgeous, and Myra had thought lunch would be better as a picnic than on the road. The blonde whom Arthur had found himself hopelessly enamored with sat with her back against a large Cottonwood, legs outstretched beneath the skirt she wore. He was lying perpendicular to her on his back, head resting on her thighs as she read aloud from a book she swiped from Lenny.

"Well, apparently Lenny is. I got this book from him last night." Myra tugged on her skirt near Arthur's left shoulder, "I hate this thing."

"I know you do. But we're tryin' to keep suspicion down, so you bein' all dolled up is the best way to go about it." Arthur heaved himself up to sit beside her. Myra cracked a smile and leaned against his shoulder.

"I suppose. Actin' the newlywed part ain't so bad neither." She traced a finger up Arthur's bicep as she spoke. Lenny's book had been discarded beside her, blue cover facing up.

"It works. Keeps most of the trouble away at least." Arthur muttered. "'Specially in this town full of god damn fools."

Myra smirked up at him. She knew how much wandering eyes got under Arthur's skin. Hell, they got underneath hers. There was nothing as disconcerting as a drunken man stumbling towards one with a pistol strapped to their belt. Who was to say they wouldn't get mad and blow her brains out because she rejected them? She was content enough when Arthur was with her regardless- merely his size was normally enough to intimidate folk- but he was not one for open displays of affection, and he was not always at her side to dissuade people. Myra sometimes detested his protectiveness, stating that she could take care of herself just dandy. Other times though, it was just funny to see Arthur rough-up a man who thought she was more property than person.

Despite Myra's hatred for skirts, playing the part of a newlywed couple allowed the pair to charm Valentine's residents. Sometimes enough to pick-pocket when she wanted, and not warrant any suspicion. Turns out, the livestock town was full of drifters and passersby, which meant the saloon was normally a different crowd every night. No one was around enough, aside from the bartender and few frequent patrons, or sober enough to notice Myra's act.

"Fools is right. I reckon I made damn near a hundred dollars already on drunken idiots." Myra rested her head on Arthur's shoulder.

"That's my girl. You put in the camp's share lately?" Arthur asked.

Myra snorted. "'Course I have. Last night. Though I think I'm the only one, you know. Charles brings back most'a the food, so he shouldn't have to. All the others don't seem too concerned."

"That is why we get to make most of the decisions, darlin'."Arthur chuckled, using the tree trunk to haul himself onto his feet. He held a hand out to Myra. "'Bout ready?"

Myra dusted off her god-forsaken skirt once she was on her feet. "Yes. We oughta get back 'fore them fools in town realize what happened."

Arthur wrapped an arm around Myra's shoulders, drawing her close to his side. "Honey, you're so damn pretty ain't no one gonna suspect nothin'."

Myra giggled, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek and untangling herself from his grasp. "I'ma get the horses."

Arthur smiled after her, rubbing a hand over his growing beard. He needed a shave, but they had been too busy as of late to do much besides sleep when they got back to camp. Crouching back down, Arthur grabbed the book Myra had been reading and her small blanket. He was whistling softly to himself when the feeling of cold steel pressed to the nape of his neck.

"Don't move."

The sound of a pistol cocking made Arthur freeze. His eyes darted around for Myra, but she must have still been with the horses. She always did like to pamper them too much.

"Now jus' slow down a minute." Arthur started, putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"How's about you just give me whatever you got in that bag and I'll let you live." His assailant talked a big talk, but his voice quivered. After years in the life, Arthur was good at gauging his enemy's confidence.

Arthur turned his head, the brim of his hat brushing the barrel of the gun. "Listen, kid. You don't wanna do this."

"For God's sake, J! Get a move on!" Another voice came from behind the man holding him at gunpoint. So there were two.

"Come on! Give me whatever you got!" The kid jabbed Arthur's neck with his pistol. "Now!"

"'Fraid that ain't gonna happen today, darlin'."

Arthur huffed a laugh at Myra's sweet voice threatening the men. He turned enough to see her strolling from the trees, leaves stuck in her wild blonde hair and skirt riding up her ankles after running.

"This really ain't the place for a pretty lady like you. Why don't you keep movin' 'fore I take you as part of the pay, hm?" That was the ringleader's voice. His words ignited a fury inside Arthur, but he had learned to keep his cool. Myra wouldn't ever let anyone else touch her unless she was right dead. And he knew what Myra kept hidden in the folds of that skirt she hated so much.

"That makes me wanna put a bullet in you even more, you know that?" Myra informed him.

Arthur kept a calm demeanor as she stalled their assailants. If Myra was good at anything, it was bein' one of the scariest women he'd ever have the pleasure of knowing. She was somewhere below Susan Grimshaw, and someplace above Abigail Marston on his scale.

"You got a loud mouth, you know that?" Footsteps indicated the leader walking towards Myra. Once he traipsed into Arthur's field of view, it was evident he was reaching for a gun. Myra must have saw the same thing, because a shot rang out before any more words were spoken. The man behind Arthur let out a squeal of panic, backing away quickly. Arthur lunged to his feet, whipping his own pistol from the holster to aim it at the man. The would-be robber was precariously perched on the cliffside, though he didn't seem to know it. When Arthur cocked his gun, another step back resulted in the man losing his footing. He tripped, eyes going wide as he tumbled over the ledge with a strangled yell.

Arthur rolled his eyes, turning back to the stand-off Myra had been in. He watched the man drop to his knees, clutching a bleeding hole in his side.

"You dumb-" Another shot rang out, and Myra stood above a head with a large hole in it.

"Nasty son of a bitch!" She yelled towards the corpse.

"You alright, My?" Arthur called to her. His voice seemed to catch her attention, and she nodded.

"Yeah. Let's get the hell outta here."

They walked to the horses in a companionable silence until Myra spoke. "You know, for someone who hates fairy tales, it looks like big Arthur Morgan needed a knight in shining armor just now."

"Quiet, woman."