Bards Crossings • Arthur Morgan x Reader

𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐈

You guide Arthur through the bustling market, the air is thick with the scent of fresh produce and the hum of lively conversation. Stalls a riot of color, overflowing with vibrant fruits and vegetables, their skins glistening under the hot sun. Piles of ripe oranges, crimson tomatoes, and pale green vegetables are stacked high, vendors shouting out their wares to the crowd, trying to outdo each other. Fragrant citrus mixed with the earthiness of freshly picked greens, creating a heady, invigorating aroma hanging in the humid city air.

The market felt alive with rich diversity of cultures. Asian grocers, their stalls draped with colorful fabrics, offering bundles of fragrant herbs—Oregano, Thyme, and Basil tied with twine, their scents mingling with the sharp tang of freshly ground spices. The smell of garlic, ginger, and lemongrass lingers as you pass by, weaving through the open-air displays. The vendors warm with welcoming smiles, chatter in a mix of languages, voices blending with the melodic Creole and French spoken by the locals.

Peering over your shoulder, Arthur's eyes flicked across each stall, taking in the essence of Saint Denis. Unable to tell whether he was in awe or feeling severely misplaced.

"C'mon," you giggled, "a little further." Taking the Cowboys hand, you guided him to the safety of a lull in the crowd.

Moving deeper into the market, the stalls shifted from food to fabrics. The clothiers, desperate to make a sale, call out their best prices over the constant din. Their tables are piled high with bolts of cotton and linen in every imaginable color and pattern. Hand-sewn garments hang from hooks, swaying gently in the breeze, their delicate embroidery catching the light. The desperation of the sellers is palpable—hagglingly fiercely, their hands gesturing wildly as they offer their best deals to passersby, eager to make a sale before the day slips away.

"This is it." You beckoned Arthur to follow.

The two of you stood before what seemed, at first glance, to be an unremarkable storefront, its façade weathered and discreet, as though forgotten by time. To the casual passerby, it might appear derelict, an abandoned relic of the old city. But upon crossing the threshold, the scene transformed entirely. The door creaked open to reveal a world hidden in plain sight—an opulent pleasure house, where luxury masked vice in a haze of decadent indulgence.

Inside, the air was thick with the sweet, intoxicating aroma of pipe smoke and perfume, swirling in the dim light. The low murmur of conversation mingled with the soft rustle of silk skirts and the clinking of delicate glasses. Patrons lounged on plush velvet settees, their faces half-hidden in shadow as they conversed with the finely dressed working girls who floated through the room like elegant phantoms. Their laughter, soft and practiced, filled the air, while the occasional sharp pop of a champagne cork broke the steady hum of voices.

The walls lined with indigo jacquard, rich and textured, the intricate floral patterns woven deep into the fabric, lending the room an air of fake nobility. The heavy drapes, drawn against the outside world, were embroidered with gold thread, their edges trimmed with tassels that brushed against the dark mahogany floors. Dimmed ruby oil lamps hung from the ceiling, their glow casting a sultry light that bathed the entire room in shades of crimson. The lamps' glass shades were etched with delicate designs, their ruby tint softening the light until it felt like a slow, seductive dusk had settled indoors.

A slow, sensual melody coaxed from a piano tucked in the corner, adding to the languid atmosphere. The women moved with grace, their voices, low and sultry, carried like honey through the smoky air.

"(y/n)?" Turning your head, following the soft voice calling your name. You instantly recognised the midnight curls draping over her bare shoulders.

"Rosa!" A smile tugged at your lips—it had been far too long. You rushed forward, embracing her tightly, her tanned skin cool and smooth beneath your palms.