Me: I'm gonna keep it simple

Also me: 5000+ WORDS. USELESS DETAILS. HORRIBLE WRITING

She wasn't prepared for this trip.

Or, well she wasn't mentally prepared for this trip. Physically and materially, she knew exactly what to expect and what she needed, but mentally, she wasn't ready for leaving the only home she's ever known.

Annabel threw her bag on the back of Flynn, who swished his tail in protest to weight. His snort and stomp of his hoof caused her to chuckle and pat his shoulder, "You better get used to it, bud. We gotta long trip ahead of us."

Arthur came out from the barn, his saddle and blanket in his arms with the reins thrown over the seat. He looked content with himself, calm from a good night's sleep in a real bed. Annabel, however, did not get the best amount of sleep before this trip.

Her chest ached and her stomach churned with anxiety as she walked back towards the house for her other saddlebags. She heard Arthur huff as he threw the saddle onto his mare, who didn't protest as he tightened the cinch.

She pushed open the front door, looking around the quiet homestead with somber thoughts and wary sighs. She had to admit that she was a bit hesitant to leave it behind for a little while, especially with someone who she only met a week ago but Arthur trusted her. If Arthur trusted her, she would have to swallow her worries and trust her as well.

She saw Sadie on the couch, reading one of the books from the coffee table with an amused smile, "How do you read this stuff?"

"Easy. I spent four years in college learning what those words mean." Annabel's laugh was light, and she was happy to see the little smile on Sadie's face as she read the book. "Most of those books are my mother's, so they're older and a little more worn out."

"They seem to be in okay condition."

"I read them a lot." Annabel started to walk up the stairs and towards her room for her last two saddle bags. She took in the way the stairs croaked under her weight and the way the smooth wooden rail felt under her finger tips.

Oh, how she was going to miss this place.

She snatched her bags before she changed her mind about leaving. Arthur walked in, calling for her before talking with Sadie.

"Thanks for watching the place. It means a lot."

"It's not a problem, just stay safe out there." Sadie placed the book back on the table and stretched as she stood. "I heard the West is getting more and more civilized."

"It shouldn't be too bad. Annabel has the maps so hopefully we won't run through too many towns and cities."

Annabel walked down with her bags thrown over her shoulders. Her somber look was enough for Arthur to know how she was feeling about the whole thing. This was her home, and the outside world can be terrifying for most.

"Ya ready?" he asked, walking over to offer a hand.

"As ready as I'll ever be." She huffed, handing him the bag from her shoulder with an achy groan.

She took her time leaving the home, grabbing her satchel from the kitchen table and the Lancaster from the door.

Sadie walked them out and watched them ride off from the porch. Annabel looked over her shoulder as they cantered off, and watched Sadie and the house disappear behind the trees and hills.

There was no turning back now.

We just left home, and I won't lie I am terrified. I've only ever gone as far as Armadillo, and going any farther than that was mostly a dream for me. Having someone ride with me, especially Arthur, is kind of amazing. I'm still surprised that he even came along on this trip, but I'm glad he did though I won't admit that to him.

The weather is still pretty cold, but the rabbits are still extremely active no matter the weather. Hopefully we'll come up on Dublin soon. I wouldn't mind a warm bath and a soft bed to sleep in for a night.

"Anna?" she looked up from her spot on the bed roll, closing her journal and humming.

"Yeah, I'm in the tent." She moves the flap to the side, seeing Arthur skinning a fairly large hare by the fire.

"So, how far are we from the first stop?" she reached for her satchel to grab her map.

"We just passed through Waco, so it should be two cities over." She looked through her folded map, trying to find her drawn line on the paper. "Yeah, we have Morgan and then after that is Dublin."

"Why Dublin anyways?"

"I-," she paused, looking up with a blank look, "I don't really remember why I picked it. I just thought frequent rest stops for both us and the horses seem like a smart thing to do."

"Well, I won't complain if that's what you want ta do." Annabel looked at him, slightly worried that she was doing this wrong.

"Is there a better way to do it?" Arthur looked at her, shrugging his shoulders.

"I don't know… You're way sounds pretty good ta me." She huffs, watching as a puff of steam leaves her lips. He continues to skin and butcher the hare while stoking the small campfire.

They relaxed together in silence, Annabel looking out from under the large trees to the fluttering snowflakes and Arthur preparing to make dinner for them both.

She loved the cold, even though she complained about it a lot, but she especially loved the snow. The pure white flecks of ice that were so fluffy looking, it just made her want to get up and play in them.

So she did.

Annabel bolted up, alarming Arthur as she skipped her way into the snow and spinning around before plopping herself on her back.

"What in the world are ya doin'?" her giggles caused his heart to skip a beat and he couldn't help but chuckle and let a small grin grace his lips. He finished cutting up the rabbit and set it on the fire to cook. He was debating on joining her but he didn't want to leave the fire unattended right under a tree.

Until something cold hit him in the face, and a loud laugh hit his ears.

Her nose and cheeks were nipped red from the cold breeze that whistled past their little camp. She was already making another snowball to throw at him, and he groaned because he knew that she was going to throw another one at him if he didn't get up.

"I've gotta cook the rabbit!"

"Oh, come on! It's snowing!" she threw the snowball at him, but missed just short of his face again. His chuckle caused her to smile wide as she ran around and kicked up some fresh snow.

Arthur leaned back as he flipped the rabbit flank, watching as she started to make some snow angels. He enjoyed watching her have fun, though he wasn't sure if he should join her. She would get tired eventually, so he stayed, pulling out his journal and drawing what he saw in front of him.

It was Annabel, arms thrown up above her head as she's kicking up snow. It was a simple sketch, like all the others that filled his pages.

Annabel seems to enjoy the snow a little too much. Let's hope she doesn't get sick.

He chuckles at his little note placed under the sketch before shutting it, and pulling the meat from the fire. He hears her shuffle her way through the snow, her sighs sounding heavy and her giggles still trying to settle.

"You have fun?" he handed her a piece of meat on a knife and she happily took it.

"I did, though it would be more fun if I could have beat you at a snowball fight." She took a bite out of her piece, staring out at the snow as the wind starts to pick up and rush under the tree where they're camped. She relishes in the brisk breeze, humming a small tune before shivering hard.

"Let's hope it don't get too cold tonight." He grumbled as he ate his share. "Don't need anything freezing over before we make it to Dublin."

"It should be fine." She finished, cleaning the knife on a rag he was using and placing it next to him. "There's not much else to do today though so, I'm gonna go rest my head for a while." He grunted at her as she got up, wobbling a little, "Don't stay up for too long."

He watched as she retreated to her tent, sighing heavily when he say the flap fall. He pulled out his journal again, finding his pencil in between the pages where he drew Annabel. He stared at it for a moment longer than he probably should have, before he started to scribble again.

Annabel, while she looks happy and cheerful, is still grieving over her father. Her actions and words seem exaggerated and too erratic which bothers me a little. She's trying, I know she is, but she's trying too hard.

I wonder if there's a way for me to let her know she doesn't have to try too hard to be happy…

He can't help but pull out the chain with the two rings from his pocket, and look with hopelessness as he tries to figure out a way to help her heal.

Arthur didn't really sleep much that night. Mostly because he was so used to a bed, that sleeping on a damn bedroll in the snow was not as pleasant as one would make it seem.

So he got up, way earlier than he should have and started to prepare for the day. He needed to find another rabbit for breakfast and pack up while Annabel was still out. He was ready for the aches his body gave off, and the way his knees creaked and his back groaned had him grunting in pain and annoyance as he stretched his arms over his head.

He was walking himself over to his mare, passing Annabel's tent when he heard a small sniffle and a shuddering sigh. There were some words being mumbled under her small sobs, and he was sure he knew what she was reading.

"It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea…" another sob broke out of her and he could tell she was trying to read it, but small sobs just couldn't be contained.

He watched the tent, hoping that she would cry it out and let him in but she was in there for good.

"That a maiden there lived whom you may know, By the name of Annabel Lee…" That poem…

It was her father's favorite, and every time he would recite the poem by heart, he would boast about how it was the inspiration for her name. His little Annabel Lee.

Arthur remembered how Morgan would talk about how he came across it in a little book from some dusty, old book store his wife would always run into. These were the days when he could walk and dance with his wife while humming a little tune that only they would know of. He remembered how his voice would glide over the words, as he stared off into the blazing fireplace while Annabel would read her book on the couch and Arthur would simple jot down the memories of his day with a few sketches here and there.

He remembered how lovely – and lonely – that poem sounded to his ears. Though he would admit, he never really knew what a sepulcher was. He could only guess from the context of the lines that is was something not meant for the living.

"And this maiden she lived with no other thought, Than to love and be loved by me…" her sobs were harsh and relentless, and he found himself unable to move away from her tent, watching and waiting for her to burst out with need.

But she didn't. She continued to sob, loud and painfully, unable to finish the rest of the stanzas. He slowly inched his way over to the flap of the tent, hesitant with his movements in hopes to not scare her.

"Annabel?" he heard her gasp, and shove something away into her satchel.

"I'm fine, Arthur." He scoffed at her response, which only go him a huff of frustration.

"You don't sound too fine." She was silent, sniffling some more before opening up the tent flap for him.

"It's just hard." Her eyes were bloodshot, her nose was red and dripping and the rag in her lap showed that she had continuously wiped her nose over and over. "One moment I feel fine, and the next I feel like everything is caving in on me."

"Yeah." He grunted, sitting down right at the edge of the tent entrance, "Grieving ain't the easiest task."

There was a cold silence between them, with the wind whistling around them, pushing the evergreens branches around.

"Have you ever lost someone you loved?" her voice was quiet, almost childlike as if she was going to regret asking it the moment it left her lips. He could feel her eyes on him, but they weren't trying to bore into him and pull an answer out of him, all she really wanted was someone who could relate to in her process of grief.

"I have." He was slow to answer, not sure how to word his thoughts, "I've lost many that I've held dear and loved."

"How did you pull through?"

He couldn't truly remember how he pulled through after all the death he saw. With Eliza and Isaac, he was a drunken mess, only whipped into shape when Dutch sent out and found him at a cheap saloon, reeking of piss and vomit with a bottle of rum in his hand.

With Sean, he had to keep going even if he wanted nothing more than the dumb Irish man to come and bother him with that stupidly thick accent. Kieran, he wished he had given that boy a better chance at life. All he ever did was mess with the wrong group of men at the wrong damn time. He didn't deserve the death he was given.

Hosea, the man who raised him right. To watch that man fall after that bank robbery gone wrong, all he wanted to do was set the world on fire and watch everything burn. The rage he built up from him was lost deep in the humid forests of Guarma when all he could focus on was getting out alive.

And Lenny. Lenny was such a good young man. Spry and ready for anything thrown his way. He didn't deserve to die like that, shot on the top of a building and left to the vultures. Oh, how he wished he could have saved him.

He wished he could have saved them all.

"Arthur?" he hummed, looking around his shoulder and at Annabel. "You alright?"

"Yeah." He cleared his throat, leaning forward to stand once more, "Just… reminiscing."

"You never told me how you pulled through…?" she asked again, quiet and timid. He chuckles, giving her a soft grin.

"A whole lotta alcohol and some fantastic memories."

They were on the road again, getting out of the snow and away from the cold and Arthur was thankful for that. Annabel was not. That meant she had to change out of her thick winter coat and other crazy warm items that she only wore in the snow.

"How much farther are we to Dublin?"

"We should hit it by nightfall." He watched as she shrugged her coat off in annoyance, sweating slightly as she was doing so. "If we keep on this path it should lead us towards the city."

"Is it a city, or a town?"

"I think it's a city, but I could be wrong. I've never been this far West before." She focuses back on the path, trotting up next to Arthur.

He notices how tired her eyes look, from the lack of sleep and the excessive crying she only ever does at night. He's sure that she notices his as well, and he's only up because of her sobs. He can't help but feel helpless as she cries and hiccups only a few yards away from him.

"It better be a small one." She chuckles at his grumbles, pulling out the map from her satchel. "I can barely stand Saint Denis."

"It's not that bad." She laughs, soft and light, throwing her head back slightly before leaning her head towards his. He feels his stomach to flips, but all he can manage his an annoyed grunt.

"Have you ever been to Saint Denis?"

"Only a few times, mostly for work."

"Then you don't know." She laughs once more, and his heart does this weird flutter that makes his chest hurt.

They ride a comfortable trot in silence, letting the cool breeze flow past them and enjoying the idea of being out of the snow.

Annabel was reading her book, following next to Arthur who wasn't really doing much other thank looking around and humming a small tune.

"For which I am a prisoner now, In Stillwater jail, I lie." His voice was quiet, but as gruff as ever as he sang his little campfire song. As he continues his little tune, she notices how scratchy his voice is, how slightly off key he can be, but she still loves it. Who knew that this dangerous man who has done God knows what could sing a small campfire tune.

"T'was once't upon a Californy miner, On whom I befell." She smiled, keeping a track of his hums and whispered lyrics. She knows that he doesn't notice her smile, as she closes her book to catch his attention.

"To think you were a singer, Mr. Morgan." He clears his throat, but ends up chuckling.

"It was something that my gang would always sing when they were on the road."

"You gonna sing more as we travel?" she had a teasing tone, but she wasn't trying to tease him. He chuckled lightly, looking over to her from under his hat.

"I might need some whiskey if I'm gonna be doin' it in front of ya." She sighs, something of content and soreness.

"We can do that once we get to Dublin. We should be coming up on it soon." She places her book in her satchel, spurring her horse on into an extended trot. "I don't know about you, but a bath sounds nice."

"Lead the way then."

Dublin was a different kind of city.

While the place was fairly large and full of bustling people and wagons, the place smelled of oil and coal. As they passed over the tracks into the city, the smell attacked her senses and she coughed at the amount of smoke that hovered in the air.

If she'd had known that this place stunk the way it did, she would have bypassed it.

"Jesus, what the hell is this place?"

"It seems like a mining and drilling city." Her nose scrunched in disgust as she looked around.

The smog covered the sun and the clean, white clouds, and the sound of trains rolling through the city carrying huge cars of crude oil and chunks of coal. Everything seemed so dirty and the people seemed so bland and muted.

She felt as if they stood out like sore thumbs.

"Let's just find a hotel, get a hot bath and a night's sleep." She picked up a trot, with Arthur following behind her.

As they continued deeper into the city, they noticed how muted the place was. Not a real color in sight, all that was on the wooden outer walls were brown paint, and black roofs with simple black doors. She wished there were some kind of flowers that she could pick and smell, hell she would be happy to smell cow manure and rotten fish.

The hotel wasn't too hard to find, it was the largest building in the middle of the bustling city. It was a three story building that stretched for a block and she knew that this city was also used to people using it as a resting place for travels.

As she dismounted, she watched Arthur, who was keeping an eye on everything around him as if to take in his surrounding and preparing himself for the worst.

She wondered what the worst that could happen was, at least in his mind.

A heavy sigh passed her lips as she pulled her satchel with her as she hitched Flynn, leaving Arthur to his hesitation and paranoid thoughts.

The Hotel was different from its outer appearance. Wooden floors, brightly colored wallpaper covering all four walls, and a high ceiling that showed the three floors completely. A chandelier adorned with Elk antlers hung high in the ceiling, flickering with candle like bulbs. A gramophone played a quiet classic tune, and there was a couple chatting quietly in some chairs by the fireplace with dainty tea cups in hand.

Annabel's footsteps were small and quiet, trying to keep the environment toned down and simple. The young man at the front desk was sweet, with a smile stretched across his face and his eyes scrunched to accommodate.

"How can I help you?" his voice was deep, and Annabel was not expecting someone who looks so innocent and sweet to have such a gruff voice. She bit her lip, still looking around in amazement.

"Can I get two rooms, next to each other and two baths please?"

"Do you prefer a view?" Annabel shook her head.

"No, thank you." Annabel dug around for some money as the boy went to grab some keys.

"It'll be five dollars for two rooms for one night and two baths." She didn't protest, pulling out the bill and taking the keys from his hand. "You're rooms are on floor three rooms five and six."

"Thank you." She smiled brightly as Arthur came in, boots hitting heavy against the old wooden floor boards. His low groans, and heavy sighs cut through the calming whispers and silence within the lobby.

"Ya got the rooms?" she nodded, not caring that the young man was no longer smiling and the couple was staring in either confusion or fear. He had both of their bags hauled over his shoulder, and the outsiders notice how sweet she was towards this brute of a man.

"Yeah, third floor. I can take my bag, if you'd like." He waved her off, climbing up the stairs.

"Nah, its fine. Where're the baths?" Annabel looked over at the young man, biting her lip.

"They have baths on each floor, they should be ready for you once you get up there." She waves at the young man, who looks terrified and unsure if he should have given them a key for the night.

The water was tantalizingly warm, and the steam helped cleared her sinuses a little as she slowly sank into the bath. A gasp and a content sigh left her lips as she dipped her hair into the soapy water, running her fingers through her greasy hair.

She hung her legs over the edge of the tub, a shivering running through her from the cold air hitting her wet calves. She hummed the tune that Arthur was singing on the road, twirling a strand between her fingers. He legs bounced up and down, slightly due to anxiety and boredom.

She wondered if Arthur was done with his bath, if he was relaxing in his bed, or if he was–

A knock caused her to sit up, water splashing over the edges as she tries to cover herself with the soapy bubbles.

"Annabel?" She let out a relieved sigh. It was just Arthur.

"Yes?"

"I heading to the saloon. Was gonna get some drinks."

"Okay." She heard him mumble something, and a groan before his steps resounded echoes within her room.

It was bad of her to think of him, she cursed herself for doing so but it slipped into her mind. It was a trickle down thought but soon it became a wave of memories of the good time they had before this journey. The lovely talks in the middle of the night, to the silent dances while her father slept in the corner. She remembered how scared out of her skin she was when he snuck up on her singing on the porch, and she was sure that he remembered how scared he was when she snuck up on him talking to his mare in a childlike manner.

The water started to grow cold, but Annabel didn't want to leave the comfort of the porcelain tub and the lukewarm water. She would have to leave eventually, whether it was because of cold water, wrinkly fingers, or Arthur coming back from the saloon slightly drunk and a little too happy for his own good.

She felt the water drip from her hair and roll down the curves of her body, and as she walks towards the towels, she catches a glimpse of herself in the dresser mirror.

She noticed how skinny she was with the slight jutting of her hip bones, the small gap between her thighs, and how her collar bone was just too prominent.

She felt too skinny, too childish in her body with how small everything was.

Annabel knew that she would have to eat a little bit more as time goes on, gain back the weight that she had lost.

She ripped her eyes away from the mirror, drying and dressing herself. She couldn't keep thinking terribly about herself, tearing herself down for simply healing.

But lord knows that she couldn't help it.

By the time she was done and joined up with Arthur at the saloon across the way, he was already slightly tipsy and gambling away at a blackjack table.

Though, it wasn't gambling if he was winning, was it?

She heard his boastful laugh as he raked in the bills, taking another sip of his whiskey.

"God dammit!" she was wary of getting closer, unsure of what might explode if a patron wasn't happy with the outcome. "One more round!"

"I've bled ya dry, my friend. There ain't no more rounds ta play." She watched from a distance, leaning against the bar and smiling as Arthur seemed to enjoy himself entirely.

"What can I get ya, missy?" the bartender, an older man covered in gray and built like a fat dwarf, smiled at Annabel.

"Gin and tonic, please."

"You got it, missy!" and he went to work, as she continued to eye Arthur, who was still arguing with one man about raising the stakes.

"Ya got nothin' left, unless ya gonna sell ya wife."

"I got huge bonds in a safe back at my house, I'll play ya with those." Arthur slouched in his seat, waving the man off.

"I'm not inta bond's, feller." He pulled out a cigarette from his satchel, "I'm inta cash."

The man groaned, frustrated and annoyed with Arthur, storming out through the swinging saloon doors.

A glass was placed gently in front of her, and she placed a few coins on the counter top.

"Thank you."

"Holler if ya need anythin' else, missy." She leaned over the counter, sipping her drink in peace and listening to Arthur laugh about who knows what. She didn't care what it was about, all she knew was his laugh was lovely.

"Hey pretty lady, lemme buy ya a drink." A drunken fool placed himself next to her, and she huffed. He reeked of moonshine and vomit and smoke. He leaned in too close to her and her nose scrunched as he breathed on her shoulder and neck.

"I just got a drink, but thank you though." She didn't stare at them, wishing that he would go away and bother a different person. Anyone but her.

"We could all have some fun if ya wanna?" he pushed strands of her hair behind her ear, his fingernails scraping against her temples, making her shudder involuntarily.

"I truly don't." she took another sip, not looking at him. He placed his grimy hand on the back of her neck, slowly dragging it down her shoulder blade, to the small of her back and resting it on her hip. She jerked away from him, splashing her drink in his face and slamming the glass down with force.

"You BITCH!" now the whole bar was looking at them, and she could see Arthur standing and pacing himself over to her from the corner of her eyes.

"I wouldn't talk to the lady like that." His voice was calm as he closed the distance, a hand around her shoulders and pulling her from the man and putting himself in her place. She looked between Arthur and the drunken fool, and the difference in height between them. Arthur, being the huge brute that he was, towered over the man with a deep scowl and a small smirk on him.

"Who do ya think ya are?" thankfully, or unfortunately – who really knows at this point – argued back, thinking that the alcohol running through his blood system would make him seem bigger and stronger than the mountain of a man in front of him.

"Someone who ain't so nice." She watched as Arthur stepped closer, pushing him back into another Patron who wasn't too happy about that, and shouldered him away from him. "I wouldn't be so damn rude to people ya don' know. You don't know who might just kill ya cause of it."

She noticed how red the drunk man's eyes were from the gin and tonic being thrown in his eyes, and how annoyed and a little terrified by how Arthur's blue eyes radiated with excitement and rage. The little look caused Annabel's chest to tighten with something she couldn't explain.

Maybe it was fear, or maybe it was amusement.

She'd never seen him look this way in the last three years.

The drunk man huffed, not really wanting to deal with a fight or deal with the bartender if he were to ruin anything, and stalked off. He eyed Annabel as he moved sluggishly past her, but her worries were soothed as Arthur came up and placed a hand on the small of her back.

"Let's go back to the rooms. I think we've had enough fun for the night." She felt him push her slightly towards the front door, and she let him guide her out the saloon and to the hotel. She let him guide her carefully down the stairs and through the muddy roads and everything, only because all she can focus on was the heat of his hand on her back and that weird, tingly sensation that started to spread from his hand and all over her spine.

She shuddered under his touch, and her sharp inhale was loud enough to cause his eyes to drift towards her. His gaze was like a flame on her skin, maybe she should have had more alcohol. She felt his fingers shift slightly, his thumb rubbing a little line against her spine.

"Ya alright?" she nodded, far too quickly to his question as they found their way to the doors of their rooms. They paused in front of her door, his hand still flat against the small of her back.

Annabel looked up at him, noticing how red his cheeks and nose were from both the cold, crisp air and the whiskey, noticing how piercing his blue eyes were, noticing how calm his body seemed around her.

He coughed, clearing his throat before removing his hand from her back and she stiffened at the cold air hitting that one little spot.

"I guess I'll see ya in the morning."

"Alright." They stood there standing, staring at each other for a little too long. "Goodnight, Arthur."

"Goodnight, Anna." He moved first, hesitantly and slowly, for his door as she unlocked hers with shaky hands. Once she was in her room, she pressed her back against her door and hit her head on the door.

As she starts to let her thoughts wander to the idea of him, she can't help but wish he was with her.

Sorry this took so long, a lot of things came up with me personally and it really took a huge hit on my mental health. I wrote this while dealing with it so if it seems shitty, it's because I'm a terrible person.

Also yes, Annabel was inspired by my favorite poem Annabel Lee AND as I was replaying the game and exploring, Arthur starts singing a little tune by himself and i just... Had to add it in.

ALSO I'm a really bad person, because I have another Arthur/OC story that I want to try out but it's in a modern day story and I'm kinda excited to do the research for it!