The Morgan Clan || A Red Dead Story

Prologue

A/N: This is a reupload of a story I've been writing! I noticed that some of the chapters were probably too long for Wattpad (I'm normally an AO3 user) so I decided to edit the length for you guys.

I'm super excited about this story because I've always wanted to write something more novel-type. And this is actually my second???? RDR2 fic. My first was one of the oneshots I originally wrote on AO3 and transferred over to here. If you want to check those out they're in a one-shot book on my profile! The collection is called "By the Campfire".

Alright on to more about this specific story. There are currently heavy spoilers for up to RDR2 Chapter 5, but later on there will be spoilers for both parts of the Epilogue as well. 

The story takes place 5 years after the main RDR2 story line and our characters are Arthur (how could you even have a rdr2 fanfic without Arthur???) and Albert Mason, yunno that photographer that you find by Strawberry that is obviously super gay for Arthur? Yeah him. 

Anyway, enough of my rambling. I hope you enjoy The Morgan Clan!

~

During the height of spring when the rains pour like rivers and the world changes from color to color, evolving from one state to another, four children lost their lives.

The first child's life was lost the moment she was born, crying into her mother's arms as the mother tried to cull her tears. But the child cried, sensing the hardship ahead of her.

And she continued to cry as the mother carried her away from the shack, away from her safe haven, and into the wilderness.

Though the child did not know the word, the experience she had was escape. She and her mother were escaping. From what, the child did not know, but the fear compelled her to cry.

Again her mother tried to cull her tears, but once the gunshot sounded, she tried no longer. The child became quiet, and the mother's eyes grew wide. With the child in her arms, the mother ran as fast as possible and as quiet as she could. Through the trees, over hills, around boulders, until she could run no more.

With tears in her eyes, the mother stashed her child away and disappeared, the only indication of where she'd gone being a gunshot that once again caused the child to blink back her tears and keep quiet. Though she had not the thought nor words, instinct told her not to be found.

The second child's life was stolen by her mother when she agreed to marry her into a wealthy family. The man the child was to be married to was old, at least in comparison to her. He was posh and too tidy. His hair had too much slick in it. But she tried to love him for her mother. She tried to care for this man who obviously cared for her. But she did not.

She was to be wed on the eve of her sixteenth, when the lights of the Lemoyne sunsets shone over the rain-soaked landscape. The wedding was to be magnificent, her mother said.

The venue was a garden surrounded by flowers of all kinds. Lights hung from post to post to the gazebo, which stood in the middle of the garden. It was pure white, almost blinding to the child's eyes. Purple flowers encircled it before creating the border of a footpath that led to the entrance. Her mother said she would love it. She did not.

On the night of the wedding, the child decided to disappear. With an hour to spare she packed all of her belongings and fled, leaving not even a note behind.

The third and fourth children's lives were lost when two men robbed their family's wagon. Their mother told them to hide and their father told them to take his knife for protection. The elder child took the knife, then led his sister up into the hills. There they waited and waited.

First there was talking. It started out calm, but then became panicked. Then there was a shot and a scream. Then there were two more shots, barely even a second apart. The younger child struggled in the boy's arms, tears falling down her face. She wanted to see what happened. She needed to see who had died. And so did the boy, but he knew to wait. He knew there was still someone out there.

After a while, there was a noise like cracking reigns and wagon wheels. Both children almost jumped up to see what was going on, but neither did. So they sat and listened as the wagon went on its way, getting farther and farther away.

Once the sound died away, the two children crept from their hiding place and back down the hill. Both children froze at the sight of their parents' bodies. The girl ran to her parents and cried while the boy watched, tears slipping down his face.

When dawn broke the boy pulled his sister away and back into the woods. They were on their own now.

As spring grew with the flowers and flooded with the rains, four children silently called for help. A plea which became an echo that travelled far and wide to someone who would hopefully save them.