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falmerbrook · 2 months

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Snow Elf culture?

*pulls up a chair*

Perhaps...

A wee disclaimer that I'm not particularly good or creative with developing cultures or societies, but my brain has just latched on to the snow elves in a way where I can't stop myself. But anyway

I developed a lot of this because of a big ass draft for a fic I've been writing on and off about Gelebor and Vyrthur, so a lot of my headcanons are religion heavy. I'll start there:

Gelebor seems to place Auri-El and the Chantry of Auri-El as having significant importance to the Snow Elves over the other gods/temples. He's probably got a bit of bias in that regard since he's devoted his life to Auri-El, but in order to differentiate their religion from the other elven ones I like to think that their religion in general worshipped Auri-El as not even just as the figure head of their pantheon, but almost monotheistical, while the other gods (Trinimac, Syrabane, Jephre and Phynaster according to Gelebor) were like minor divine figures or just legendary heroes even more than in Altmer myth, depending on the interpretation. My idea is that if their culture had been allowed to continue on, it would've eventually become monotheistic, but by the arrival of the Nords they were in a bit of an awkward transition period with it.

I also like to lean into the sun motif with Auri-El that they established in Dawnguard and with Auriel's Bow, partially because it's another thing to make their depiction of him more unique, and in part because it makes some very juicy irony for Vyrthur. Some ideas include:

- The more religious folk tend to pray at noon when the sun is at it's highest. - The two biggest snow elf festivals happen on the summer and winter solstices. As far north as they are, the summer solstice is during a time of year where the sun barely sets and the winter one is during a time of year where it barely rises. The summer one is more jovial and celebratory, with a grand feast. With almost 24 hours of daylight, the festivities last up to three days straight, with folks commonly staying awake for over 24 hours. Most of it is spent outside, with the celebration being focused on making the most of the weather and daylight hours to spend as much time in the sun and the light of Auri-El as possible. The winter festival is as large scale but lasts longer and is lower-key. It also involves a feast but features more winter foods and meat and alcohol. It is more pensive. At this point in the year, there is no full daylight, and so this season is seen as a test of one’s faith and mental fortitude. This festival acts as a break from this trying time, taking time to relax, build community (a strong community will allow them to make it through the winter and strengthen their minds), and bond with family and friends. It is about a weeklong break, where leading up to the festival everyone works harder to prepare for it and allow themselves to have the break. There are activities and festivities, but they remain indoors for the most part and are smaller. - I've referenced this before, but with long winters with little sunlight (due to harsh weather and short days), they see that time of year as a reflective test of will and faith.

Due to their proximity to dragons, it was hard to miss the connection between Auri-El (/Akatosh) and dragons, and so their depiction of Auri-El is either much more influenced by the iconography of dragons, or is a dragon (although their depiction of dragon Auri-El is much more benevolent than the Nord/Atmoran one). I got the idea for this one from this Reddit post (i know I dog on Reddit a lot but this one has got some fun stuff in it, even if it's a bit out there)

^On that note, later in the timeline (post Dragon War (the timeline is very fuzzy on when this and the Night of Tear happens. They are both sometime vaguely in the late Merethic Era I believe, but it's unclear which happens first or how long each conflict is)) some Snow Elves see a sort of unreturned, unofficial comradery with dragons, seeing themselves as both on the receiving end of the Nord's/Atmoran's brutality (disregarding whether it was warranted or not in the context of the Dragon War).

Ok here's some more general cultural ones:

I mentioned my reasoning for this in this post, but I like to think their general settlements were not as permanent, with a larger focus on wood and building into the sides of hills (good for warmth), while their temples tended to be made of stone and much more permanent. This is why there are so few identifiable Snow Elf ruins across Skyrim. Their cities and towns were easy to wipe out, scavenged for resources, or were in good places for Nordic cities (perhaps Bromjunaar was originally the site of a Snow Elf city?), and their temples were either very hidden (e.g. the Chantry of Auri-El) or eventually converted to Nordic temples.

I love this journal in general for gleaning ideas for Snow Elf headcanons for, but one interesting this is the use of "Old Ones" and "Young One". They're treated like established titles. From that I like to think they place a lot of emphasis on the respect of those older than you. The social hierarchy and whose opinions are most valued is heavily influenced by age. Folks call anyone older or more revered “Old Ones” as a term of respect, and anyone younger than them “Young Ones”. Old One is almost never used in a demeaning way, but Young One can be (not always). Typically, “Old Ones” is used in the third person (e.g. you wouldn’t refer to someone directly as “old one”) whole “Young One(s)” can be used as an epithet for someone directly or in third person.

When thinking about death/"burial" customs (needed for some scenes in the fic I'm planning), you have to consider that there probably wasn't a lot of land in a place like Skyrim where someone can be buried. Nords intern their dead in crypts or burn them to get around this, and I like to think Snow Elves participated in something akin to sky burials (at least sometimes). After preparation, the departed's body is left outside on a ledge, cliff, or the temple balcony to be scavenged by birds. This is seen as a metaphorical return to Aetherius, while their soul literally returns to it. They do this even in poor weather or deep winter. If it doesn’t thaw and rot/be scavenged until months later, so be it. The length it takes to rot is considered indicative of how long it takes for the spirit to let go and move on (not in a bad way though. It’s interpreted more in the way of the soul or body grieving). It's seen as if they may wish to wait until spring to finally rot if they want to experience one more warm, sunny day.

Food (I mostly wrote this in my notes in the context of the Forgotten Vale and Chantry of Auri-El, but I think it could work elsewhere as well to an extent): Plant-based food is grown in gardens in the spring and summer, and that that is able to be stored is carefully preserved through the fall and winter. Winter foods include some nuts, dried vegetables, and dried and preserved/fermented grains (like wheat, barely). These foods must be eaten slowly throughout the winter to last, and winter diets are more meat based. Summer foods include apples, cabbage/lettuce, leeks, tomatoes etc. Snowberries can be found in the wild out of season of most other fruits, and provide fruit in very early spring. Occasionally, fungus from caves is harvested, but this is seen as a delicacy (foreshadowing).

Ok, that's it for now. I gotta go to bed. Thanks for the ask!!!! :D

#charlie its always sunny in philadelphia voice 'can we talk about falmer please ive been dying to talk about falmer all day'#mine #ask #tes #skyrim #the elder scrolls #snow elf #snow elves #reading my notes doc while making this and i was really cooking on some things. didnt include them all becasue some are very specific for #that fic i keep referencing #like i had to try to elaborate on the religious hierarchies and duties of each position because that was obviously gonna be relevant #but its sorta half baked rn #also i want to have some more headcanons for later in case someone asks again :)

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xfancyuu · 1 year

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~ cause i can feel a real connection, a supernatural attraction. [aemond targaryen]

PART I (my blood, sweat, tears, and my last dance, take it all away.)

after four months of misery i have returned! my job prevented me from writing but i can confirm this is a three part series, this fic contains a westerosi wedding, the next will contain a valyrian wedding and the third part, well that's a surprise. reader is afab with she/her pronouns if requested i will write non-binary characters. ! i'd also love some feedback for this! i'd love some pointers on what you liked/didn't like about it! i try to make reader an actual person and appealing to all but she may come off a certain way (though i think that's the stress of the situation rather than reader being an awful person bc she's a lot more mellow in part 2 — maybe bc it's actually smth she wants to be involved in rather than a massive wedding, she wanted a more intimate moment lol).

this fic contains: bolton!reader, wedding, afab reader, no appearance indicators (except height, aemond is taller than you), lord bolton (your dad) worries about you a lot and idk if that is in canon standing but you're also his only daughter. your mum may be cersei lannister coded??? she's kinda mean but she's giving the reader some truths in there even if they won't apply to reader. reader's lifespan is called short though her and aemond are both around eighteen-twenty-one (but this is some time before the war & that gossip girl thanksgiving worthy moment — the girls that get it, get it) [5,079 words]

You had hoped the waiting was worth it, your father's insistence that you would be respected and appreciated by your future husband hadn't calmed you one bit. You knew what was expected of you, what the night would entail, and it had put you on edge, Aemond Targaryen was a temperamental man in the almost two years you had known him, you simply did not know what to expect. The blood of the dragon ran deep within him, he was chaotic and could do as he pleased to you and those around you if you did not please him correctly.

The preparations had taken many moons themselves, your father's involvement with the whole ordeal was rather surprising to many, fathers didn't typically involve themselves in matters such as weddings except choosing the man. Yet your father was proactive — you were his only daughter, his sweetling, his pride and joy. You had surmised the man did not want to let you go, to send you into a life of baring children and labours which he himself could not look over and sooth your worries.

Yet that had not happened, and you couldn't understand his ceaseless worrying. When you had told him you had met the great Vhagar he had almost had a heart attack. You had such a joyful emotion, however, your father could only hope it continued to stay that way. That the Prince would not feed you to his dragon the moment he had you alone once more which you had to assure your father that you were certain Prince Aemond was as fond of you as you were him.

It had felt like a ridiculous farce at first, the looks towards you when it was announced you'd be marrying the second son of the King. The whispers behind your back which they had thought you hadn't heard, how such a beautiful girl was fated to marry a man who could not match such beauty. You had scoffed at the time, beauty had not mattered to you — moons later it still had not mattered. They had called Aegon beautiful, yet he was one of the most despicable men you'd had the displeasure of spending time with, constant comments that his brother should take you before the wedding and how he would have his way with you if he so wished. You'd take a man the court had deemed undeserving of your beauty over that.

"If you wish to flee I would not stop you." your father spoke as he had entered the room, your family must have been in the sept waiting for the spectacular show you would put on which would no doubt be the talk of Kings Landing for the many coming moons.

"Why would I flee?" you had asked, playing with the beads of your dress, the Northern tradition of wearing white was not lost on you. Your father spared no expense in creating the dress you had wanted. The dress was truly beautiful, aligned with jewels and beads, some of which sparkled as though they were stars with movement. "You do not truly believe the Prince would hurt me? Once we are married we shall be happy and not much shall change from how it now."

The look on your father's face was enigmatic, you could never decipher what the man was thinking. If your mother was here she would have told you. "Once you are married mother and I will go back to the Dreadfort, your brothers will be returning with me and you shall be alone." The unspoken threat of being alone with the Targaryen-Hightower family was evident. He hadn't trusted them from the moment you had stepped into the dreadful place.

"But I won't be alone — I shall have my husband and hopefully we shall bring children into the world not long after... There are ravens, Aemond has a dragon, I am not trapped here and I shall be able to visit you." The optimism that you possessed was something your father had never possessed himself. You were too much like your mother. He didn't want to tell you that obeying your husband would be customary, that you would be a member of the Royal family, that you would not be a regular person with your own opinions.

"I shall look forward to your future visits. You know what tonight will entail? Please do not fight back and do as he says." You had not known what your father had meant. Your mother had taught you the basics, taking a more hand on approach than many others you had met. "But for now you shall walk down the aisle, looking like the Northern beauty you are, you shall do our house — your mother and I" your father corrects himself, "proud."

Your father was not a sentimental man by design, this behaviour felt strange to you. Perhaps he knew something you did not. "I shall always do you proud, now cloak me before I weep." you had demanded of him.

The flayed man was not something you'd associate yourself with. It was barbaric, horrific and downright made you feel hostile. Yet your father wore his sigil with pride, the technique passed down from father to heir did not involve you, yet your own father had decided despite you being a female your house traditions were important. It was awful you'd to think of such things on your own wedding day. You'd be cloaked with a different shade of red — you'd be a Targaryen by the day's end.

You felt content knowing that your house banner — the sigil that made you a Bolton would be symbolically stripped away by the man you were sure you loved despite the lack of life experience required to make such a decision. The colour was in stark contrast to your dress. The blood-red and pink colours blended with each other compared to your white dress, it stood out, you stood out. Many of the ladies of the court had told you that white was not a colour a lady such as yourself should wear. You were not quite sure why, it matched the snow of your home, the bleak surroundings you found yourself longing for. Your hair styled in traditional Northern intricate braids which you had personally asked for. You would not change a habit of a lifetime for the pleasure of others, Aemond had never seemed to mind your abrasive disregard for the court's fashions and styling. You doubted he'd have a problem with it now.

"You look beautiful, my sweetling," your father had told you, taking in all the grace and beauty you possessed. His comment had made your cheeks heat up — you were familiar with tearing your appearance apart in mirrors at most given opportunities, compliments were not commonplace. Especially from your father.

"I am mother's child." you had joked, trying to relieve the tension you had felt in your body as you drew closer to the sept. The religious element hadn't appealed to you, the Gods you worshipped were not those of the Seven. "I do hope nobody makes a scene, I do not think I'd be able to control myself from attacking someone."

"And suddenly you show signs of being mine."

"Please make sure nobody makes a scene today, the Princess is here with her children, and it makes everybody on edge as it is." You had told him, sharing a look, a look which ensured your father would allow nobody to embarrass you or your husband.

"Today shall be the happiest day you have lived in such a short lifespan, and you shall have many more to come." Your father had ended that conversation short. It was only then you had noticed you were about to enter the sept. "Tell me one last time you should want to leave, and I will take you away this instant."

"I told you before, it should be my honour to marry — I love him father, as he does me." You had told him with such sincerity, your father simply kissed your forehead, accepting your current position on the matter, never wavering. Perhaps your father was more displeased in losing you than you had originally thought. But you'd always be his little girl, and marrying reminded him you were growing up and having your own life experiences.

The stares had almost made you bolt, but your father's grip prevented you from doing so or stopping in your tracks. You would not make a blunder of the entire event, you would walk to the altar with a smile planted on your lips and the grace and elegance your mother had instilled into you.

The trip to the altar was quite short and sweet, not a stumble, some had gasped, but you had thought it was simply because your dress was beautiful. You hadn't wanted to leave your father, not entirely, a part of you was still a child, wanting to go back home and frolic in the snow with your brothers for another winter. But you were no longer a child, you would no longer be a girl frightened of the responsibilities you had to partake in. Yet why were you feeling so incredibly warm and wanting to remove your own skin?

It hadn't stopped, the moment you were placed in front of Aemond, ready to be cloaked as your father removed your own cloak. Despite being so incredibly warm, the coldness had hit you like a wave. Or perhaps it was something else, anticipation for the entire event to be over. For you to finally have your own husband to yourself. To act as though you'd always been taught. To at least kiss him in public rather than the brief and few kisses you'd shared in dark hallways.

Your thoughts were moving at such fast speeds, you had almost flinched when you were cloaked with the three-headed dragon. A symbol so synonymous with the house you would be married into. Yet you kept your composure, still smiling and turning around so you could at least grab Aemond's hand. He had grounded you in the moment — a much needed clarity to the thoughts you were having.

His own hand had taken yours, how you wish you could at least speak to him. Yet you could not, the ceremony was under way and the best you could do was squeeze his hand as to tell him you were fine, that you were here and that this was happening.

Dissociation was a problem, you had always been called a daydreamer yet doing so at your wedding? You were truly a mess, an unadulterated, unfiltered mess. The way your hand kept on squeezing Aemond's, the way you didn't listen to a thing the septon had said. How your eyes had glazed over and how so badly you wished this would end, being the centre of attention was not something you enjoyed.

It was a blur. You had spoken the ceremonial vows as expected, yet you hadn't realised you were doing so. Instead, you had taken in your husband. How beautiful you considered him, his beautiful white hair had not been styled differently, his eyepatch was still there — your objective for tonight was to remove it without him refusing, he could not refuse you — his lady wife now. His clothes were significantly different, gone with the green colour you loved so much in favour for traditional Targaryen colours.

The kiss was just that. You would not make a scene despite the way he had held you do tenderly, you could not do that here and at this moment. You were in a sacred place — not that you believed this room was sacred, you had to behave. Alicent was a devout believer and you doubted Aemond had wanted to anger her or the septon. Brief kisses were what you were used to and you so badly had wanted more, ached for, desperately needed.

"You did so well" Aemond had whispered into your ear as your kiss had ended. The cheers of the newly-wed couple had surrounded you and you were not too sure what to think.

"You give me far too much credit."

Aemond hadn't given you enough credit. He was sure he would have had to have married for an alliance with a wife who would come to resent him yet he considered you special. Never once had you flinched away from his company, never once had you looked at him as though he was less of a man and never once had you made fun of him despite what your teasing of him may have suggested. You were fun, adventurous and above all you had agreed to his betrothal without a second thought. He truly did love you, he would love the life you two shared together, he would love the children you produced and most importantly he would never do anything to deliberately hurt you. The two years of courting had proved as much.

The evening was going quite well, though you had noticed Aemond's attention wandering elsewhere. "Does something displease you, husband?" you had asked, gaining his attention once again.

Though he hadn't given you a reply, simply hummed and continued staring at his nephew as though he had wronged him in some way. "You're looking at Luc? Is it Luc? I'm unsure on which one is which — as though he has stolen your food and goading you about it."

"Do not speak to me about Lucerys." Came Aemond's sharp reply, you couldn't understand the seeming hatred he had for his nephew. Your own nephew's had meant the world to you, often spending time with one another when their septa's were busy, influencing them with your own opinions and behaviours.

"So it does displease you?" The question wasn't aimed at Aemond rather an observation you had. "My apologies I did not wish to displease you on such a joyous day."

You hadn't got a response to that either, simply a kiss to your cheek, "My father promised me if I was upset he'd sort out the problem, if your family displeases you so, I could gather my father." That had earned a chuckle from Aemond.

"That won't be necessary my love, I have ensured nobody shall cause a scene, especially Aegon."

"And how did you get Aegon to behave?"

"With matters which needn't be known to you, my lady."

"My title is Princess —" your reply was instinctual, "And as a princess of this realm I demand to know how you ensured Aegon would not be a problem."

"I outrank you, my Princess," you do not know if Aemond is teasing you or mocking you, though the glint in his eye tells you all you need to know, "You would not wish to know such depravity Aegon seeks."

"You do not think I do not know about his depravity?" You had genuinely asked, your brothers may have sheltered you and been protective but men like Aegon forever slip through cracks. Ladies speak — they gossip a lot about Aegon and his antics.

"I do not think you know the extent, nor would I like you to, just be thankful his hands are on wine, he would not want to ruin such a joyous occasion."

"You are sure he won't be a depraved gremlin tonight? If he does something untoward against one of my ladies, I will not be responsible for my actions." Threatening a prince may not have been a good idea but you doubted Aemond would pay much mind to it, you're jesting, you always would be.

"The moment he does something to upset you I will personally escort him away."

"Thank you." You had spoke, deciding it would be best if you dropped the issue of the Targaryen-Hightower family as a whole, instead choosing to focus on your own. Your younger brother had sparked up a conversation with a girl from the Westerlands. "Do you think I should go and encourage my brother to ask the lady to dance?"

"Do not meddle in his affairs, princess, perhaps your father will be escorting you out while I escort Aegon." Aemond joked, while you tried to keep a straight face.

"I think the only person to escort me out of this ceremony will be you, my dear husband." The bedding ceremony was something you hadn't approached. Tradition was simply that but you did not want to face the humiliation it had brought with it.

"I cannot wait."

Your conversation had been cut short. The princess Rhaenyra engaging you in a conversation. You had felt terribly sorry for her with her first wedding — they had said if there was not one death at a wedding it would be an incredibly boring affair. You were happy with your wedding to be deemed boring and without complication. The conversation was polite, Rhaenyra introducing you to her children — Aemond had called them Strong bastards, not that you cared much, surely they were more Targaryen than Strong. Rhaenyra the true Targaryen heir had birthed them. But the politics in Westeros was not ready for educated women destroying their world view you supposed.

Princess Rhaenyra had you in a chokehold metaphorically, if you refused to dance with her eldest son, Jace as she called him you would be offending the heir to the throne which could have dire consequences. So you had relented, promising him a dance as the princess had insisted. Aemond didn't enjoy such nonsensical things, while you didn't mind it that much.

Your mother had always told you that it was important to know such things, dancing was one of them. Though you hadn't expected your first dance of the evening to be with the wrong prince. It was clumsy and awkward, the young prince had wanted to be there as much as you had, hyperaware of where his hands fell on you, of everybody's eyes on you and especially the eye of your husband who had seemed beyond tense. Jacaerys had been nothing but respectful, the music was upbeat and you had laughed multiple times in his presence. Rhaenyra had clearly wanted to fix broken bonds within the family which you were unaware of despite being within courtly life.

"Is it strange to be back in the capital, my prince?" you had asked the boy as the two of you had continued to dance, struggling to find conversation suited to the both of you.

"I am missing Dragonstone but it is lovely to be with family." There's an underlying issue there which you could not explore.

"Aemond and I must visit one day." The boy had become tense with the mention of his uncle, and while it had not subsided your suspicions you knew that the visit would not be happening from his response. "Aemond has been teaching me of Valyrian culture and it would be lovely to see where the queen Visenya had spent her time."

"Queen Visenya interests you?" Jace had seemed rather shocked to discover this, "My mother favours the tales of Princess Nymeria, her story is rather fascinating."

"I should like to befriend your mother, she is a woman of culture I see," your conversation had been cut short by your brother approaching you, "Please excuse me, my prince, it was lovely to meet you, but my brother requires my presence."

Once in your younger brother's arms the anxiety you could feel bubbling within you had dispersed, Jace hadn't scared you, it was Rhaenyra and the possibility of offending her. You may have been ranked Princess but that was purely through marriage, Aemond could get away with snubbing his sister's children but you could not. It could cost your head.

"Your husband looks like he could murder you." Your brother's intervention had made sense now and you were rather thankful for it.

"Murderous enough that I shouldn't approach him, or murderous in the sense I should?" You had asked him as you continued to dance, it had reminded you of your childhood. Forcing your brothers to engage with you in such ways, "Did father send you over?"

"No, it was mother, she fears for you tonight, I sense."

"And why should she be fearful?"

"You and I both know why, sister. Do not make me say it aloud."

"Should I go over and speak to her? Privately? To remind her that my husband is respectful and much more caring than many men could claim to be."

"Do as you wish but please do not anger him more than he is. We all fear for your safety, it is not everyday one married a Dragon Prince."

"There's an abundance of them, I'm sure if you asked nicely one of them would oblige you."

"Do not speak such things aloud, my head could be on a spike by the morn."

"It seems as though I cannot do anything right tonight." Your dance had once again been short-lived as you stormed off in the direction of your mother, looking for comfort, but you doubted she'd give you that.

"I cannot do a single thing right tonight." You complained to your mother once you had sat down next to her at the table so graciously provided by the royal family — away from you.

"I doubt you have the ability of foresight to change your actions. Why much you speak to me about such issues."

"It would be nice if you could comfort me for once." The wine you had consumed was slowly bubbling its way to the surface, never before had you dreamed of speaking to your mother in such ways.

"Why would I do that? You are a woman grown, you've made big girl choices, have you not? You chose to marry the prince, you chose to leave your family, you're choosing to create one of your own. Please do not mind if the one you are leaving behind are upset with your actions."

"I cannot do this tonight, I cannot fight with almost every person I have encountered." Your hand had gone for the glass of wine in front of you, but your mother had stopped you.

"The advice I am about to give you is invaluable and advice my own mother gave to me. Lie still and wait for him to climb off of you tonight, do not complain when it hurts and try not to make a sound."

You were utterly speechless, your mother had never been one to say an unneeded word, but this was just crass. "We're not talking about this right now."

"Fair enough, disregard the advice passed down from generation to generation."

"Tell me my dress or hair looks pretty, tell me I have nothing to worry about, just don't speak about such things in a room full of people."

"I just wish for you to be prepared." For disappointment was the undertone. "You're such a beautiful girl, you've done your house proud, but I do not wish to lose you in such ways, father doesn't speak much about your departure, but he shall miss you too."

"I shall miss you too, mother." You had reached for her hand, which she had gladly accepted. You feared it would be the last time you'd get a mother-daughter moment like this. It had felt bittersweet and you'd have your own children soon but she had caused the anxiety to crawl within you tenfold. "But the next time we shall see each other I would hope to have children."

"Just make sure you birth children with his hair colour and eyes." Your mother's words hadn't quite sunk in.

"Well, I can't help if they come out looking like me."

"There is a reason why they call them Strong, [Y/N]. Do not give them an opportunity to call your children Bolton's... Or any other last name than Targaryen."

"As I said, I cannot help if they look like me." You were exasperated by this point, just wanting the conversation to end.

"I would love them however they came out but please do not do anything which could risk your safety."

"Mother, you're speaking in riddles and happenstances. Please do not have another drink or father will be leaving here with you dragging out behind him."

"Heed my warning, my sweet child, but tonight you shall have fun and dance with whomever you deem fit. Leave me to enjoy my wine, even if your father has to unceremoniously drag me — or carry, we both know your father would never drag me — out of this room."

"I love you, mother." You stood from the chair, kissing her cheek on the way up, "Consider your warning well received."

"Such a good girl, what did I do to deserve such a child?"

"You only had one daughter." You joked, "Please excuse me, I have many things to think about."

"I love you too, please do not forget that."

Your conversation had left you feeling uneasy, your gaze trying to find Aemond's only to see he was busy speaking to his mother. Perhaps he wasn't as mad at you as you had originally thought. Though your mother's words of not baring children with the typical Targaryen features had almost dimmed your evening. What should happen if you bore the wrong sort of children. Would you be treated as though he treated Rhaenyra? Would you be so easily cast aside and insulted? You did not dare to let it leave your mind, the absolute terror could not show, but it was there, under the surface level smiles and pleasantries.

You had deemed your ladies the fittest to dance with, dance after dance you had spent with them, having fun, laughing while it seemed like they had almost inhaled wine.

Aemond's eye had followed you as you had enjoyed your time with the woman within your company. He supposed you had to get used to them, they would continue to be with you from this moment onwards. Or rather, until you gave them permission to marry whichever suitor they came to you with.

You were a fascinating woman, choosing not to stay in one space for too long, smiling pleasantly — there was a juxtaposition between you both, and Aemond couldn't be happier for it. You were like sunshine, always bright and bubbly, spending time with his dearest sister, ensuring she wasn't made fun of. He respected you, and he was going to show it tonight.

Your dancing had attracted attention from other nobles. It was not often that women had danced with one another for such a long period of time. Though your ladies were being picked off one by one, nobles wanting to gain their attention for marriage prospects. You were happy for them, truly, however much the loneliness spiked as your final girl stayed with you.

It had to be your brother — he was beyond bothersome, and you looked awkward and panicked on the ballroom floor. The gigantic dress taking up far too much space and without a partner. If at least one person had noticed your distress, they hadn't come to your aid. The jewellery on your being was fiddled with as you tried to make your exit look graceful, but you wanted to run far away from the humiliation of being partnerless.

You had been grabbed by the waist — you had almost fought back until Aemond had calmed you. "It seems as though you've danced with everybody in this room besides your husband."

You had laughed, though it had not been heard over the music, as you turned around to face your husband. "You did not ask me to dance... I didn't know you like to dance."

"I don't," He retorted, "But I'll make the exception for you."

"Oh, I must be so special."

"Whatever my wife wants, she will have."

"And if I want to leave with you, right now, would you save me from the festivities?" You inquired, the intimacy you had felt at the current moment had put you on edge, never being so close to a man before, much less a man you were expected to lay with. To produce heirs with. The expectation had piled up far too much.

"You want to leave? You looked as though you were having fun."

"Crowded places are not my preferred place to be, there is also too much attention placed on me, I don't know if I can cope for much longer." You were finally voicing what you had bottled within you all night, the shakiness within your voice to admitting such things had alarmed Aemond.

"We shall finish this dance?" He'd asked as the two of you continued, your steps were much clumsier than intended but you simply could not help it. "It shall be our last of the night."

"My blood, sweat, tears, and my last dance, take it all away." You had whispered into Aemond's ear as the two of you had danced together.

"Leave with me."

"To where? We cannot escape our own ceremony unnoticed."

"Do you trust me?" You had looked into his indigo eye, as though it was not a question you could contemplate — of course you had trusted Aemond, you had married him without hesitation when he had asked.

"Without hesitation." Came your response, your dress was bulking and heavy but you didn't doubt making a run for it would be hard but at least you had Aemond by your side.

"Then leave with me, most people are too drunk to notice us gone and I fear now will be the only time we can escape."

"You drive a hard bargain." The wine had made its way to your head, the giggles which had escaped your mouth were not sounds you'd typically make. "Save me life a prince in a fairytale, take the maiden and make off with her, is that it?" You'd always had a fascination with the fairytales from a young age. From maidens to knights to unexplainable beasts, from saving damsels to damsels saving themselves.

"You don't have to ask me twice." Aemond had left you no time to comprehend movement within your body, his hand still in your own as he dragged you off to wherever he intended the destination to be. However, as you left the room with as much subtly as a dragon screeching, your eyes connected with your mother's, showing everything she feared would happen tonight for you. Perhaps womanhood was more daunting, even with the liberation you so desperately sought from marriage.

thank u for reading this fic! again feedback would be appreciated but u don't need to give it, the next instalment will be posted in exactly a week (wed, 8th)! cross posted on ao3 under the name hedonism! reformatted on 7th april 2023.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #asoiaf x reader #asoiaf imagine #aemond targaryen imagine #ive been writing e2l recently (not fanfic) and i wanted smth not... that despite how good aemond makes for an e2l fic #ewan just did an interview w the face and omg HIS face is beautiful and some of his answers had me dying #im so down bad for this man #i wrote some of this while clowning and encouraging my friend to get this number of a guy flirting w her but i'm the one writing x reader f #who's the real clown?#u dont know the musical journey i went on writing this bc it was surely a journey

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