𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕿𝖊𝖕𝖎𝖉 𝕭𝖆𝖗𝖉丨(ʜᴏᴛᴅ x 𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔣𝔬𝔬𝔩 - 𝔠𝔥𝔭.4

ƭɦε ૮α૨∂เɠαɳร - ℓσѵεƒσσℓ - ƒเ૨รƭ ɓαɳ∂ σɳ ƭɦε ɱσσɳ

𝕾1 𝕰8: 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕿𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖘

♥♥♥

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬. Much less tacky. They had cleaned up the blood on the floor and your face. You adorned (color) garbs lined with decorative embroidery, it flowed beneath you with small slits in the side. A loose garb like (skirt/flowy pants) sat on your hips under the long garb. 

These ladies were experienced in care taking, you admired in your poor state of mind. You felt dizzy but any pain subsided. You were looking at the silk top over your four poster bed. A metallic taste lingered in your mouth. You smacked your lips. 

Thoughts of the night in your dreams occupied every crevice of your brain. 

Larys and Harwin mostly. Larys really was vicious. Him and Harwin seemingly got along at the wedding. You gaffed and goofed at the table with both of them. His only motive to kill them was money. Not even Harrenhall itself. Larys would've still had money if he hadn't plotted their deaths, not all of the coin if he wasn't head of House Strong, but enough. He had a job in the Red Keep with family. He was virtually unburdened. 

Sick. Sick bastard. 

Melancholic feelings bubbled up thinking about Harwin. A weird shift between never meeting him now, watching him through a screen, and already knowing him in a past life created a cavern in your heart. An anxiety bolted through you. Which relationship was the right way to feel? You couldn't treat them like tv stars. There was a distance between you and everyone who knew you. It felt like a purposeful blockade.

A thin freckled maid with her hair tied in cloth peered over your vision as you laid on the dusty comforters. 

"ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴀɪɴᴛᴇᴅ, ꜱᴀᴇʀ" the shy younger maiden informed you. The rest of the maids were surrounding the bed waiting to attend to your needs. A damp cloth or extra pillows in their hands. 

"ᴏʜ- ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ. ᴅɪᴅ ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪɴɴᴇʀ?" you rubbed your eyes and sighed. The canopy fabric hanging over the framed bed post had repaired holes in it. The stitching was neat and lined with decorative embroidered bugs the same color at the canopy. The detail was nearly invisible. 

"ɴᴏᴛ ᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ. ɪ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ʜᴀꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ Qᴜᴇᴇɴ ɪꜱ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ʀᴏᴜɴᴅꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. ᴡᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ɢᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏɴ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ" her Darry Irish accent peeked through. You sat up and sighed, you cast your gaze to the ground. 

"ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ, ᴄᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇꜱᴄᴏʀᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪɴɪɴɢ ʜᴀʟʟ? ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ɪ'ʟʟ ᴡᴀɪᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇ." the bedroom you were in was stuffy and dusty. You'd at least felt a little familiarity. If it was the same place in the visions you had. The way you'd never seen a grown man weep and scream in this room with you. One you hated parasocially and barely knew in real time. 

"ꜱᴇʀ ᴄᴏʟᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ, ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴏᴜᴛꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴏʀ."

"ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ, ʟᴀᴅɪᴇꜱ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ʙᴇ ᴅɪꜱᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ." you slowly stood up, hands crowded your arms and your back. The ladies ensured your stability. You rose slowly to your feet, which had brown boots on them. The shiny armor glimmered in the corner of your eye, placed on top of a tall desk drawer.