#tresi

[angele-darliing]

Goetia OC!

A fresh new attorney in hell!

[cassipedia]

Review of Migration (2023)

Hey, Cassipedia, what’re you watching?

Over the weekend, I watched the film Migration. It is an original animated film directed by Benjamin Renner and co-directed by Guylo Homsy and produced by Illumination. When I say original, I do mean it, as it is the first movie I’ve seen in a while that is not an adaption nor based on a pre-existing property.

Do you recommend watching it?

Yes, very much so! This was a surprising experience that I would hate for others to miss out on. The commercials had piqued my interest with the beautiful animation of the flying scenes and the jokes seemed harmless enough. Sometimes I am wary of Illumination films as they can be sometimes a bit too noisy or chaotic, but I’m very glad I saw the movie anyways, as it was surprisingly heartwarming, very cute and stunningly gorgeous (and, contrary to my concerns, it actually uses quiet moments better than most animated films I’ve seen recently!)

What's the story like?

This is a story about the Mallard family, ducks that live a peaceful and simple life in their pond, until a flock of migrating ducks stirs an adventurous itch in everyone except the nervous father, Mack. However, he soon comes around to the idea as he realizes how much an adventure would mean to his family and especially his wife Pam. So they start flying to Jamaica for a vacation. The trailers for the movie spoils the fact that the ducks take a wrong turn and end up in New York City, but the story is less focused on ‘duck shenanigans in an unfamiliar place’ and it instead is more of a road trip with a seamlessly integrated villain. This road trip allows the Mallard family to see different locations and meet different birds, all the while the family grows closer, trusting each other and growing braver in their own ways. There are delightful moments of silliness that are reminiscent of Looney Toons, but the movie takes seriously how much the family loves each other, giving them a reason to grow together as strong and beautifully as the trees they fly over.

What does the movie look like?

Think of how beautiful the sky is. Have you ever been on a plane and looked out at the sloping mountains and pillars of white clouds? Or perhaps, as the sun sets, you look up see how the red sun fades into golden orange blanketed by increasingly purple clouds and the approach of blue night? This movie understands how beautiful the sky is and elevates that feeling, as our bird characters soar and fly through vibrant forests, to a claustrophobic but intriguing water-logged shed, to the shiny and colossal skyscrapers of New York. The settings are gorgeous and the characters themselves are animated masterfully, so each character is incredibly expressive, with the beauty and grace of real-life birds mixed with Muppets-style comedic timing and cartoon stretchiness anchored by being able to carry heavy emotions. This all goes hand-in-hand whenever the birds take flight, as the camera seamlessly follows the birds from take-off to being air born, giving the thrill of a flying rollercoaster. There is such a sense of scale and height, and the world is from the birds’ perspective, with little details that brought me back to the creativity of early Pixar, such as having the father duck blow away a lightning bug nightlight like blowing out a candle, or how the birds will seamlessly alternate between their wings or their feet to gesture. With the movie being from the perspective of the birds, that means none of the human characters talk, being more like creatures existing alongside the bird characters, and this results in a very entertaining and interesting villain in the form of a duck chef with a Yakuza, gang member level of intimidation, whom never utters a word beyond grunts and yells paired with very well-made expressions. To give an idea of how good the animation is, even though the chef has no lines, from simply how he moves, sharpens his knives and looks at the ducks, one can see how, he’s a chef that takes his cooking very seriously, demanding high quality, but, when the ducks start interfering with his business, then he’s all too happy to start seeking revenge. And he is technically only a fun obstacle as the core of the story that this beautiful movie conveys is not about them versus a villain, but instead focused on a family.

How are the actors and actresses?

Every voice perfectly fit their characters, and the animations did excellent in having it where I could feel the characters talking, watching how their beaks formed the words with little flashes of their pointed, bird tongues. The father Mack Mallard was voiced by Kumail Nanjiani and did excellent as an anxious father who could get silly and serious, (and whose manner of speaking fittingly reminded me of a more grounded Daffy Duck). Elizabeth Banks voiced Pam Mallard and delivered as a mother with energy and eagerness paired by a snappy quick wit and a genuineness in each word. One of the cores of this movie is seeing and hearing how Mack and Pam fall back in love with each other over the course of the film, and I believe these voice actors delivered. The rest of the family cannot be overlooked, as Caspar Jennings as Dax Mallard provides a great performance as a courageous young boy who is itching for adventure. Dax is full of bravery but lacks the knowhow on how to protect himself along with others, whereas his father Mack is an excellent survivor but needs to be urged out of his comfort zone to truly become brave. The lesson between them is not simply one is right and the other is wrong, but it is a sharing of perspectives, in which the boy’s bravery inspires the father, and the father’s wisdom equips the boy against their obstacles. I was most concerned of the family member Uncle Dan, voiced by Danny DeVito, as to if he would be an unpleasant tagalong as sometimes happens in these movies, but he quickly established himself as someone who, though he makes quips and seems to lean on his self-interest, he never, ever hesitates to dote on and play with his darling niece, the youngest Mallard, Gwen, who is voiced adorably by Tresi Gazal. Notably, the film makes a point to show that the family already loves one another at the start, but their trip lets them appreciate each other and push their boundaries and discover more of themselves. The other voice talent are more than just recognizable celebrity names and each fit their characters, providing a distinct and colorful cast as one would hope from a road trip type movie. The Herons were my favorites in setting the tone of characters not always being what they seemed in an intriguing way, but each played a role in furthering the family’s journey and usually closed their loop on their own personal journey. The only group of these characters that may feel underexplored are the migrating ducks that inspire the Mallards on their journey in the first place, but I think it is due to the other characters simply having more screentime, as I’ve no doubt these characters would have been just as entertaining as the rest of the cast if they had been given more time.

Is the music worth talking about?

This is not a musical, but the score is absolutely a big part in why the scenery and so many of the moments in this movie sticks out in my mind so vividly. If you listen carefully, you will hear how the music changes depending on the setting. While the Mallards are in the forest, there is an emphasis on using a whimsical choir, adding to the lighthearted feeling, and as they enter the city, unsure of what it even is at first, the music takes on an ethereal, almost dream-like quality that one isn’t quite sure what to make of, until the ducks pass through the smog and nearly run into a steel beam and suddenly you got energetic and chaotic brass instruments banging in as the Mallards are caught in a whirlwind of New York City hustle and bustle. My words really can’t do it justice. And it is worth noting, there is only one distinct instance of a pop song being used in the movie and it is incorporated quite well as a band in a scene plays that song, resulting in a surprisingly beautiful display of ducks engaged in a Salsa dance. The movie is very smart with its music, as it furthers the immersion of seeing this colorful world through these cartoon ducks’ eyes. There are also great moments of quiet and silence, as the movie will also let the atmosphere talk for itself, really letting you sink into it (though it is worth noting that, for the opening of the Universal and Illumination logos, these are the complete opposite and are the noisiest parts of the entire film as the Minion characters from Despicable Me introduce the logos with kazoos. And if you are watching the film in theaters, you may find yourself sitting a surprisingly long time watching a short film based in the Despicable Me universe called ‘Mooned’ but rest assured, you did not walk in on the wrong movie and I very much encourage you not to leave your seat as I overheard many others in the theater seats next to me nearly did.)

Who would like this movie most?

If you are someone that likes birds or the sensation of being high up in the air or on a rollercoaster, I very much urge you to check out this movie. It is also a film that I think would be very enjoyed by those whom are interested in animation and illustration, to see an excellent example of how colors and movement can truly be blended to dazzle in a movie format. The story and characters are well-written and compelling for any age, though I think this movie would be well-received by families, especially as this film strives to show how a family grows closer together. There is a clever, timelessness to the jokes that focus more on the situation on hand and when you have animal characters reflecting on human habits, such as when one of the birds refers to a chef as ‘a predator that hunts prey and serves it to much lazier predators.’ During one of my viewings of the film, I had the pleasure of a family of a broad range from the parents, to their parents to young boys all sitting near me, and it caught my ear that each generation consistently laughed throughout the course of the film.

Where can I watch it?

This film is available in theaters for only a little bit longer at the time of writing this, but I heavily recommend seeing it in theaters at least once. Not only so you can really soak in the colors and the scope of the heights as the birds fly, but also so you can better feel the thrusting of wings as the birds take to the sky and the wind rushes through their feathers. It is an incredible experience. Considering it is an animated movie, it is possible it may re-appear in theaters for kids movie special offers as theaters like the Marcus Theaters sometimes provide. Otherwise, if this review reaches you too late, the film is available for streaming on Peacock for the first four months of being released, then will move to Netflix for the next ten, and then will return to Peacock for the remaining four, so I recommend checking between those streaming services of Peacock and Netflix. Otherwise, it doesn’t hurt to keep an eye out for a physical copy.

Final thoughts?

Migration is a beautiful film that I think can very easily fit in as a classic film, one that focuses on bringing a family together through a fun and colorful adventure. At the very least, it was a pleasure to watch in theaters as a visual rollercoaster, especially for the bird lover in me, and I hope, after its theatrical release that it will make its way into homes as it made its way into my heart. If you’re up for an adventure, then I completely encourage taking the dive.

[geekcavepodcast]

Migration Trailer 3

The Mallard family of ducks finally go on a vacation of a lifetime. They embark on a journey from their New England pond to Jamaca, by way of New York City. "The experience will inspire them to expand their horizons, open themselves up to new friends and accomplish more than they ever thought possible, while teaching them more about each other—and themselves—than they ever imagined." (Illumination)

Illumination's Migration stars the voice talents of Kumail Nanjiani (Mack), Elizabeth Banks (Pam), Caspar Jennings (Dax), Tresi Gazal (Gwen), Awkwafina, Carol Kane, Keegan-Michael Key, David Mitchell, and Danny DeVito. Benjamin Renner directs from a screenplay by Mike White.

Migration hits theaters on December 22, 2023.

[moviehealthcommunity]

Migration (2023)

This is a Movie Health Community evaluation. It is intended to inform people of potential health hazards in movies and does not reflect the quality of the film itself. The information presented here has not been reviewed by any medical professionals.

Migration has multiple scenes with lightning storms, which create strong strobe effects. These scenes are done once the action moves to a big city, and the rest of the film is free of strobe effects.

There are several flying scenes, which follow flying characters through barrel rolls, dives, and other complex maneuvers at extreme heights.

Flashing Lights: 6/10. Motion Sickness: 7/10.

TRIGGER WARNING: Some scenes of food preparation are meant to be upsetting, used as a horror element for the characters in the film.

NOTE: Theatrical showings of this film are accompanied by a short film at the beginning. In this short film, during a scene of fast travel by rockets, there is a strobe-heavy effect similar to a hyperspace effect from Star Wars, but in black and white, which makes the strobe more severe.

Image ID: a promotional poster for Migration

[spryfilm]

Trailer: Illumination’s "Migration” (2023)

Trailer: Illumination’s “Migration” (2023) Universal Pictures have premiered the second trailer for their next animated feature “Migration”. Benjamin Renner (“Ernest and Celestine”) directs what is Illumination’s sixteenth animated feature which is a comedy about a family of ducks. The Mallard family is in a bit of rut. While dad Mack is content to keep his family safe paddling around their…

[marcovaleyeah]

27.12.23

No, I’m still watching The Lord of the Rings, but I was in the cinema and watched this cartoon and wanted to share my impressions.

#Mira-Marathon

Cartoon Name: Migration (2023); Production Studios: Universal Pictures, Illumination Entertainment; Director by: Benjamin Renner, Guylo Homsy; Screenwriter: Mike White, Benjamin Renner; Starring: Kumail Nanjiani, Elizabeth Banks, Danny DeVito, Caspar Jennings, Tresi Gazal; Genres: Action, Adventure, Comedy; Running Time: 1 hour 31 minutes;

"Migration" is an exciting 2023 cartoon about the migration of ducks. With great animation and an informative story about the importance of migration for animals, this cartoon leaves a vivid impression.

My rating:

⭐⭐⭐

[jmunneytumbler]

A Family of Ducks Try to Save Their Tails as They Head South in Illumination's 'Migration'

A Family of Ducks Try to Save Their Tails as They Head South in Illumination's 'Migration'

Migration, all I ever wanted! (CREDIT: Illumination Entertainment & Universal Pictures) Starring: Kumail Nanjiani, Elizabeth Banks, Caspar Jennings, Tresi Gazal, Danny DeVito, Awkwafina, Keegan Michael-Key, David Mithcell, Carol Kane Director: Benjamin Renner Running Time: 82 Minutes Rating: PG for Culinary Cartoon Mayhem Release Date: December 22, 2023 (Theaters) What’s It About?: Mack Mallard…

[floorman3]

Migration Review- A Road Trip Movie That Hasn't Been Done Quite Like This Before

Illumination Studios is famous for its Despicable Me and Minions franchises.  Occasionally they have branched out to do animated films such as The Grinch the remake of the popular animated holiday classic. Sing and this mast April’s release of The Mario Brothers Movie. Their Despicable Me and Minions franchises have made them a lot of money which is what they hope to make on their latest…

[two-white-butterflies]

peaches - am. targaryen

Description: Your father decided to marry you to the elusive, Aemond Targaryen. After a year of marriage, he still refuses to acknowledge your existence - that is until after Criston Cole becomes his son's teaching instructor. Cole isn't only interested in teaching your son. (MODERN AU) Rating: Mature 18+ (breast play, jealousy sex, desk sex, slight breeding kink, size kink, spit kink because it wouldn't be an aemond fic without it.)

There was nothing to love - no personality or show of appreciation. He kept to himself and expected you to do the same. "Aegon, please calm down." you mumble aware of Aemond's gaze from inside his office. "I wanna go swimming!" the child demands staring at the pool with his adorable purple eyes.

Aemond has shown no interest in helping you raise his son. He's there for parties and events - there when the child has a nightmare, but when it comes to Aegon's day-to-day activities - he's absent. You sigh. Aemond is a great father, but he's occupied with his work.

"We have to wait for the instructor, ��uha tresy." you smile, adjusting the skimpy swimsuit that you wore. It was revealing - it exaggerated the best parts of your body, while hiding the parts that you hated. Any husband wouldn't be able to keep his hands off you - but he was able to. Aemond has never touched you before - not even a strand of your hair. "Please, I won't go in the deep parts." he promised, jumping up and down with excitement.

A laugh escapes your lips, not trusting the little boy.

You lean down to his body - pushing a strand of his hair away from his face. "Have patience, little one." you answered firmly, prompting the boy to give you his best puppy eyes. You were about to allow him down the pool but someone clears their throat from behind you.

Criston Cole was staring at you - specifically your endowments. Your posture shifts as your body regains it's full height. He had that porno look in his eyes. The one that a man has before fucking a girl in a pornhub video. You didn't like it - you felt disgusted.

"Well, Mr. Cole will take care of you now." you walked to the side - gathering the robe on the daybed. You walk away from the pool - trusting the maids to supervise your step-son.

Completely unaware of Aemond's gaze.

He tried to focus on the mountains of paperwork on his desk - but he couldn't. His mind was elsewhere. He imagines you wearing that red swimsuit. The fucking swimsuit that you bought for him - the swimsuit that he should be the only one looking when you wore. He sees the way Criston Cole stares at you.

He places his pen down, opening his venetian blind slightly to watch his son learning to swim. You were standing there again - hovering over them with a blue-towel on your hands.

His son wasn't learning to swim - he was on top of a fucking floater while the instructor ogled at your breasts. His grip on his fountain pen tightens, spilling ink on his brand new pants.

He'll fucking gouge that man's eyes.

He reaches for his telephone, dialing his sister. "Helaena, are you there?" he pauses waiting for his sister's reply.

"Yeah?" she questioned.

"Can you escort Mr. Cole to his car? We won't be needing his services any longer." he commands, earning a snort from his older sister. "Is this because of his wandering eye?" she inquired, and he could hear the faint sound of someone slurping milkshake on the other line.

"If you have a problem with him staring at (your name)'s body, then you should fire all of your house-staff." she taunted, not telling the full truth - but also wanting to see how the situation would turn out. You were a pretty little thing - the eye-candy inside the Targaryen manor.

Everyone but Aemond seemed to be engrossed with you.

"What?" he interrogated, voice suddenly raising with anger. He could imagine all of his servants staring at you, watching you strut like a model on fashion-week.

"Fire Mr. Cole, right? I'm on it." she promised, ignoring his outburst and hanging up on him.

You were annoyed with everything.

Annoyed with Aegon singing his favorite nursery rhyme while underwater. Annoyed by your husband's lack of emotion and annoyed with Cole trying to talk to you.

Helaena comes to save you.

"Mr. Cole." she looks down with her sweet voice. "Yes?" he asked, pretending to hold little Aegon. "The maids have prepared your towels and the shower that you will be using. We do not need your lessons anymore." she announced and his face falls flat on the ground. "What? That's impossible - Aeg doesn't know how to swim yet." he defended but Helaena's thin-lipped smile proved that he wasn't doing shit.

"We can have that arranged, but as of the moment we have no need of you." the woman added, one of the maids held unto the boy while Criston emerged from the pool - mumbling strings of insults.

There were three rules before your marriage to him. One, don't do anything that would ruin his reputation. Two, remain loyal to him. And three, never go inside his rooms.

This was your first time stepping on the carpet that was outside his office door.

"Aemond." you call out.

The door opens automatically and you welcome yourself inside.

He doesn't stare at you - or even acknowledges your existence. He keeps on jotting down his notebook. "Did you have to fire Mr. Criston? I don't like him but Aegon adores him." you ask in a soft tone, careful to not offend him.

It was impossible to offend him - no matter how hard you tried, he always kept his cool.

"He's incompetent. There's no room for that in my household." he replies in a cold tone, continuing to sign a few bands of contracts. "I suppose," you look around the room - scanning around his decor. There were pictures of history around the walls - the beginning of industrialism and the decline of tradition.

He was a man of the arts - and you didn't know that.

You knew nothing about your husband. How fucking stupid.

" - and don't wear that swimsuit again." he added after a deep breath. Your eyebrows merged into each other. He wasn't going to tell you what you could and couldn't wear. "I beg your pardon?" you inquire.

He looks up from his paper - and unto you. The girl who was still wearing the said swimsuit.

"It's not appropriate." he asserted through gritted teeth. He couldn't understand why he was riled up at the thought of other man staring at you - and your round and perfect peaches. "What is appropriate to you? I cannot wear my pajamas around the pool." you responded in a brash manner, his eye widens at your show of rebellion.

"You can wear a bikini but not around men." he tried to reason, navigating himself around the labyrinth of his own reasoning. He didn't make sense. "Not around you, then?" you take a step forward, dominating over him in front of his desk.

He stands up, reaching for the collar of the bathrobe that you wore - he pulls your body closer, merging his lips with yours.

What is his is yours.

His money, his empire, even his son - but you were only his.

His to fuck. His to breed.

A moan escapes your mouth as you began climbing over the desk. Kneeling but you weren't able to reach his height. Your head only reached his eyebrows. "He was staring at you, huh?" he asked, slowly untangling the strings that held your top.

With a tug of a string, your breasts were revealed to him. Taut and bouncy, like he imagined them. His hands fondled your breasts, playing and teasing them. He lowers his head, sniffing your neck and placing a nipple inside of his mouth.

He was sucking you - like a newborn babe searching for milk.

"Aemond." you moaned, pulling his head closer.

His right hand trails down to your mound, teasing it through the cloth. "You are mine." he announced, pressing kisses on both of your breast - alternating between the two of them. "Yours." you replied, his hands untangling the string that held your bottom - letting it loose.

He frees himself from your grasp, reaching down to unbuckle his belt. He lowers his boxers - freeing his cock that stood tall and proud. Your eyes widened at his length - it was going to fit, but it was going to hurt.

You sit properly on his desk, legs wide open as you welcomed him. "Do it." you demanded earning an amused chuckle from the business magnate. He places a hand on your face - cupping your cheeks. He inserts a finger inside your mouth, allowing you to suck on it as his cock enters your hole.

It was pleasure - breath taking pleasure.

Your grip on his shoulder tightens, telling him to go deeper.

"Harder." you moaned.

He complies with your order, lifting your leg to reach the top of his elbows. "Fuck - shit." you cursed, entering a new realm of pleasure. There were stars in your eyes. You hold unto his shoulder, eyes gazing up to interlock with his.

His eye was beautiful.

It was a deep shade of lavender.

"Keep moaning and I'll cum." he threatened, pulling your body closer and rocking his desk. The paperwork was forgotten - all in favor of his beautiful girl. "Cum inside of me." you moaned again, feeling his length prod inside your cervix. "You want to give our son a sibling?" he chuckled darkly.

"Yes!" you moan. His cock was reaching places you didn't believe was possible.

You hear the desk rock loudly - like an earthquake. Your leg falls on his side, and he raises the other one over his shoulder - slightly tipping your body to be lying down. "Oh - Aemond!" you scream feeling otherworldly bliss.

His hands squeeze around your cheeks, staring at your face - mouth wide open with lust. "Who owns you?" he asks, squeezing it tightly. "You do!" you answer, and he smiles.

Rocking on a steady rhythm.

"Open your mouth, princess." he commands and you follow him, opening wider. He closes his mouth - gathering the spit on his tongue, releasing it on your mouth. "Swallow." he ordered and you obeyed him - the faint taste of whiskey lathering inside your mouth.

"I love you," you confess feeling a hot sensation in the bottom of your stomach. "I love you to, princess." he replies, merging your lips together as thick ropes of cum populate your ovaries.

[boopboops22]

Can you draw more snufmin

Anything for you Tresie

[angele-darliing]

Tresi (OC) illustration

[kckt88]

The Lost Dragon 2 - Grief.

Summary:

The family gathers for a funeral, and the heir to Driftmark claims their inheritance.

Warnings - Angst, Drama, Violence, Grief, Mourning, Guilt, Funeral, Allusion to Same-Sex Relationship.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C -VAELYS TARGARYEN

Word Count: 4574

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9

With a heavy heart, Daevyn approached the cot where Jace's linen-wrapped body lay, his footsteps slow and measured, his breaths shallow and uneven. As he reached out a trembling hand, he hesitated for a moment, his heart filled with sorrow at the sight before him.  

Gently, he placed his hand on Jace's still form, his fingers brushing against the cool fabric of the linen. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head in silent reverence, his lips moving in a silent prayer of gratitude and farewell.

"Thank you, Uncle-" he whispered softly, his voice barely more than a breath. "Thank you for your sacrifice, for your bravery. You will always be remembered."

Tears pricked at the corners of Daevyn's eyes as he stood there, lost in his thoughts and memories. He thought of the times they had shared together, the laughter and the joy.

And as he stood there, his hand resting on Jace's lifeless body, he vowed to honour his uncle's memory in all that he did.

With one final, lingering touch, Daevyn whispered a silent farewell to his beloved uncle, his heart heavy with grief but also filled with gratitude for the time they had shared. And as he turned away, his eyes wet with tears, he knew that Jace would live on in his heart forever, a cherished memory that would never fade.

As Aemond stirred from his unconscious state, a wave of pain washed over him, jolting him back to awareness. His eye fluttered open, the world around him hazy and indistinct as he struggled to orient himself.

"Vaelys," he croaked, his voice hoarse and barely audible. "Vaelys, where are you?"

His heart pounded in his chest as he called out for her, the fear of being alone in his moment of awakening threatening to overwhelm him.

But before he could utter another word, he felt a presence beside him, a hand reaching out to grasp his own.

"I'm here, Aemond," Vaelys' voice sounded, her tone filled with relief and concern. "I'm right here."

Aemond turned his head, his gaze locking with hers as she knelt beside him, her eyes filled with tears of joy at the sight of him awake.

Beside her stood Daevyn, his face alight with happiness at his father's return to consciousness.

"Father," Daevyn exclaimed, a wide smile spreading across his face. "You're awake!"

Aemond managed a weak smile in return, his heart swelling with love and gratitude at the sight of his family gathered around him.

"Thank the gods," Vaelys murmured, her hand tightening around his as she leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"Daevyn," he rasped, his voice still weak from his ordeal. "What are you doing here?"

Daevyn's smile faltered slightly at the question, his expression shifting to one of concern as he met his father's gaze. "We were worried," he explained, his voice steady but tinged with anxiety. "We hadn't received any news back in King's Landing, and we feared the worst. So, I flew straight here on Sapphyre."

Aemond's heart swelled with pride at his son's bravery and determination. He reached out to grasp Daevyn's hand, squeezing it tightly in a silent gesture of gratitude and reassurance.

"Thank you. Tresy," said Aemond softly, his voice filled with emotion (Son).

Daevyn nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his features at his father's words. "Of course, Father," he replied, his voice steady with determination.

As Aemond slowly sat up, his gaze roamed the tent, taking in his surroundings with a mixture of relief and trepidation. His eye fell upon the cot where Jace's linen-wrapped body lay, a reminder of the sacrifice his good brother had made to save him.

Memories flooded Aemond's mind as he recalled the selfless act of bravery that had cost Jace his life. He remembered the chaos of battle, the desperate struggle for survival, and the moment when Jace had pushed him out of harm's way, taking the fatal blow meant for him.

A lump formed in Aemond's throat as he thought of Jace's sacrifice.

"Daevyn," he said, his tone carrying the weight of authority. "I need you to return to King's Landing."

Daevyn nodded, understanding the urgency in his father's words. "Of course, Father," he replied, his voice steady despite the underlying concern. "What do you need me to do?"

Aemond's gaze softened as he met his son's eyes. "Make the preparations for our return," he instructed. "And send a raven to Driftmark. Request that Baela and the children come to King's Landing as soon as possible."

Daevyn's brow furrowed in confusion at the request, but before he could voice his questions, Aemond raised a hand to silence him. "Don't tell anyone anything," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Not until we are ready."

Daevyn hesitated for a moment, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, but he nodded in acquiescence. "Understood, Father," he said, his voice tinged with determination. "I'll do as you ask."

With a final nod of affirmation, Aemond watched as his son turned to leave, his heart heavy with the weight of the decisions that lay ahead. But he knew that he could trust Daevyn to carry out his wishes.

Despite the pain coursing through his body, Aemond's heart swelled with overwhelming relief and gratitude as he watched Daevyn leave the tent.

Turning to Vaelys, his eye brimming with emotion, he felt an irresistible urge to hold her close, to feel the warmth of her embrace and the steady beat of her heart against his own.

Without hesitation, he threw himself at Vaelys, his arms wrapping around her with a fierce determination that belied his weakened state. He pulled her close, pressing her body against his own, as if trying to meld their two forms into one.

"Vaelys," he murmured against her hair, his voice trembling with emotion. "I thought I'd lost you."

Vaelys returned his embrace, her arms encircling him with a tenderness born of love and devotion. She held him close, her touch a soothing balm against the ache of his wounds, as if willing her strength to flow into him and heal his pain.

"I’m here, Aemond," whispered Vaelys softly.

Aemond held Vaelys tightly against him, refusing to let her go as if he feared she might vanish if he loosened his grip even for a moment.

He buried his face in her neck, seeking solace in the familiar scent of her hair, the warmth of her skin against his own.

"I can't let you go," he whispered hoarsely, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't bear the thought of losing you."

Vaelys ran her fingers through his long hair, her touch gentle and soothing as she held him close. "You won't lose me, Aemond," she murmured, her voice filled with love and reassurance. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. We'll get through this together, I promise."

But despite her words, Aemond clung to her desperately, his heart filled with a profound sense of fear and uncertainty. He had faced many battles in his life, but none had ever felt as daunting as the prospect of losing Vaelys.

"We need to decide what type of funeral to give him," Aemond said, his voice heavy with emotion. "He was both a Targaryen and a Velaryon, so it's important to honour both of his legacies."

Vaelys nodded, her brow furrowed in thought. "Yes, you're right," she agreed. "But ultimately, the decision should be made by his wife, Baela. She knows him best, and she should have the final say in how he is laid to rest."

"Of course," replied Aemond, his voice soft with understanding. "We'll speak with her and honour her wishes, whatever they may be”.

“You need to rest-“ said Vaelys.

"What about Vermax?" asked Aemond, his voice tinged with worry. "Last I remember, he had a broken wing”.

"Vermax is being cared for," she assured him, her voice soft and gentle. "But he mourns the loss of his rider."

Aemond's heart sank at the news, knowing the bond that existed between dragon and rider, a bond that transcended mere words or actions.

"I know how much Jace meant to him” replied Aemond.

Vaelys nodded in agreement, her own eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Yes," she replied softly. "But we'll make sure he receives the care and attention he needs. We owe it to Jace”.

"And what of Vhagar?" he inquired, his voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and affection. "How is she faring?"

Vaelys offered him a reassuring smile, her gaze softening as she spoke of the formidable dragon. "Your old girl is well," she replied, her voice warm with fondness. "She's doing what she does best—sleeping."

"Sleeping, eh?" he mused, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Well, I suppose she's earned her rest. She's always been a formidable warrior."

Vaelys nodded in agreement, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "That she has, but my love you should also get some sleep-"

“I’ve slept enough-“ muttered Aemond.

“Please my love” begged Vaelys.

“Ok-but will you stay with me?” asked Aemond quietly.

“Always” replied Vaelys.

As they made the preparations to return to King's Landing, Aemond and Vaelys couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation mingled with sadness.

While they were eager to return home, the thought of leaving Vermax behind weighed heavily on their hearts.

"It's for the best," Aemond murmured, his voice tinged with regret as he surveyed the injured dragon. "Vermax needs time to heal”

Vaelys nodded in agreement, her expression reflecting the same mix of emotions. "Yes, you're right," she replied softly. "But it's hard leaving him behind, knowing he's in pain."

Aemond reached out to grasp her hand, offering her a reassuring squeeze. "I know," he said gently. "But we'll make sure he's well taken care of. I've already requested that a number of guards remain to keep watch over him and ensure that he eats well enough to heal."

Vaelys smiled gratefully at her husband, her heart swelling with pride at his compassion and concern for the injured dragon. "Thank you, Aemond," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "I know Vermax will appreciate it."

With a solemn expression on his face, Aemond turned to the soldiers gathered around him, his voice firm and commanding. "Stake the bodies of the Triarchy members to the sands," he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. "Let it be a warning to any who would dare to threaten the peace of the realm."

The soldiers nodded in understanding; their faces grim as they set about carrying out Aemond's orders. With practiced efficiency, they drove wooden stakes into the ground and secured the bodies of the fallen enemies to them, their actions serving as a stark reminder of the consequences of crossing the Targaryen crown.

As the task was completed, Aemond surveyed the scene before him, his jaw set in determination. He knew that the sight of the staked bodies would send a clear message to any who dared to challenge their authority—that the Targaryen’s would not hesitate to mete out justice to those who threatened the safety and stability of the Seven Kingdoms.

With their dragons leading the way, Aemond and Vaelys led their army in a solemn procession back to King's Landing. The journey was marked by a sombre atmosphere, the soldiers marching in respectful silence as they accompanied the fallen body of Jace, draped in the colours of House Targaryen and Velaryon.

As they made their way through the countryside, the people of the realm lined the roads to pay their respects, bowing their heads in reverence as the procession passed by.

Jace's body was laid on a litter, escorted by a contingent of solemn-faced Velaryon soldiers.

As Aemond and Vaelys arrived back in King's Landing, the bustling city greeted them with a mixture of relief and solemnity.

The streets were lined with onlookers, their faces filled with reverence as they watched the procession pass by.

At the gates of the city, Aemond and Vaelys made a request for food for their dragons, ensuring that their loyal companions were cared for before attending to their own needs.

With the provisions secured, they dismounted from their dragons and joined the procession on foot, walking alongside Jace's body as it was carried through the streets.

Despite the offers of horses and carriages, Aemond and Vaelys insisted on walking, their determination unwavering.

As they made their way through the city, the crowds parted to make way for the solemn procession, offering their condolences and expressions of support to the grieving rulers. Aemond and Vaelys acknowledged each gesture with a nod of gratitude, their hearts heavy but their resolve unbroken.

As Aemond and Vaelys walked through the gates of the Red Keep, they were greeted by a solemn yet reverent gathering of their family, council members, and loyal subjects. Their children—Sovia, Daevyn, Aemon, and Rekara—stood in a line, their expressions a mix of sorrow and determination as they awaited their parents' return.

Standing beside them were Helaena and her children, Jaehaera and Maelor, their presence a comforting reminder of the ties that bound their family together.

Aegon the younger and Viserys stood with Daeron, their expressions unreadable.

The council members stood nearby, their expressions grave as they paid their respects to the fallen and offered their support to the rulers of the realm.

Luke and Rhaena were also in attendance, accompanied by their six daughters, who stood with solemn reverence among the gathered crowd. And lastly, Baela stood with her children—Laena, Rhaenar, and Daemon—her gaze steady and unwavering.

As Jace's body was solemnly brought through the gate, draped in the banners of House Velaryon and Targaryen, a wave of sorrow washed over the assembled crowd. Vaelys reached out and took Baela's hand.

Baela's hand trembled in Vaelys' grasp, her tears flowing freely as the reality of her husband's death sank in. The sight of Jace's shrouded form brought a fresh wave of pain, and she clung to Vaelys for support, her sobs echoing through the courtyard.

Vaelys held onto Baela tightly, her own heart heavy with sorrow for her sister-in-law's loss. She whispered words of comfort, offering whatever solace she could in the face of such profound grief.

With a heavy heart, Baela approached Jace's shrouded form, her steps slow and deliberate. As she reached him, her hand trembling as she reached out to touch the linen that covered him.

Closing her eyes, Baela rested her forehead against Jace's form, her tears flowing freely as she allowed herself a moment of silent grief.

In that moment, all she could feel was the profound loss of his absence. She whispered his name, her voice choked with emotion, as she allowed herself to mourn the life they had shared and the future that had been stolen from them.

Around her, the courtyard fell silent, the assembled crowd giving her the space to grieve in peace. And though her heart was heavy with sorrow, Baela drew strength from the love she had shared with Jace, knowing that his memory would live on in her heart forever.

"The Silent Sisters need to prepare Jace's body for the journey back to Driftmark," she said, her words carrying a weight of finality. "He will be honoured as a Velaryon, laid to rest with the dignity and respect he deserves."

Her voice wavered slightly as she spoke, but her determination was clear. Jace may have fallen in battle, but his memory would be cherished and honoured by his family and his people. And though the pain of his loss would never fully heal, Baela took solace in the knowledge that he would find peace in the halls of his ancestors, surrounded by the love and respect of those who had known and admired him.

As the Silent Sisters approached to carry out their solemn duty, Baela stood with quiet resolve, her head held high despite the tears that stained her cheeks. Jace may have departed this world, but his legacy would live on.

But as the silent sister’s escorted Jace’s body inside the Red Keep, Vaelys caught sight of Cregan, who was standing beside Alysanne.

The raw anguish that had filled his eyes, the sorrow etched upon his face as he stood staring at Jace's covered body.

His reaction had been one of profound grief, his eyes closing briefly as a single tear slipped down his cheek.

The day of Jace's funeral dawned grey and sombre, the skies overhead heavy with clouds as the family and their guests gathered on the shores of Driftmark. The sea stretched out before them, its surface dark and turbulent, mirroring the emotions that stirred within their hearts.

Jace's body lay in a carved wooden casket, draped in the colours of House Velaryon and adorned with flowers and tokens of remembrance. The mourners gathered around, their faces drawn and solemn as they prepared to bid farewell to their beloved lord.

As the ceremony began, the air was filled with the sound of prayers and hymns, offered up in honour of the departed. The priests of the Drowned God spoke solemn words of farewell, invoking the blessings of the sea to guide Jace's spirit on its journey to the afterlife.

With heavy hearts, the family and their guests watched as the casket was hauled to the water's edge, the thick ropes sliding against the wood.

With a final prayer, the casket was pushed into the water, sinking slowly beneath the waves as the mourners looked on in silent reverence. The sea accepted its offering, enveloping Jace's body in its embrace and carrying him away to his final resting place.

Aemond stood rigid with his arms folded behind his back, his mind a conflicting mess of thoughts and emotions.

He hadn’t been close with Jace, not even when they were children, the discord between their mothers driving an invisible wedge between them.

Then there was the bullying, there had been times where Aemond would often cry because of what Aegon, Jace and Luke had subjected him too.

But never her-never did Vaelys hurt him, she made him daisy chains and drew him silly pictures, she was annoying, and he absolutely DID NOT like her in any way shape or form.

He was nothing but a dragon less whelp who felt like he wasn’t worthy of being called a Targaryen, but all that changed the night he claimed Vhagar, she accepted him, she chose him, and it was his claim of her that convinced him he was worthy after all.

But he lost his eye for it, gods the pain had been awful, metal slicing through his flesh and the flow of hot blood pouring forth amidst his pained screams would remain with him for many years.

The multiple infections and procedures he had to suffer through rendering him bed bound and unable to function as he wished too.

But he healed, he became the dutiful son, he studied history and philosophy and he trained with the sword, and it still wasn’t enough.

Kidnapping Vaelys, had changed his life irrevocably.

This annoying woman had stolen his heart and become part of him, every ounce of him burned for her in a way that he couldn’t truly explain.

She became his wife and birthed him a daughter, a sweet, beautiful Princess, his byka grēges (Little bug).

He’d killed his own brother and surrendered the crown to his sister, and she exiled him, forced him away from the arms of his wife and child.

That bastard strong boy was the grand architect behind her decision, and he hated him all the more.

But for Vaelys-for her sake. He stayed his hand.

As much as he didn’t want to-he found common ground with the bastard when he confided in him of his grief over Baela miscarrying a child-a pain Aemond knew only too well.

Over the years that hate had slightly lessened, and it had developed into a minute form of civility.

But the bastard had gone and sacrificed his life and now Aemond was confused, he wanted to hate him, to loathe him until the end of his days.

But he couldn’t. Not now.

With a heavy heart, Aemond whispered softly to the wind, his voice barely audible above the sound of the waves. "Farewell, my Lord Velaryon-”

Silently, Vaelys approached Aemond, her footsteps soft against the sand as she reached out and gently took his hand. There were no words to be spoken, instead, she simply leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder as they stood side by side, gazing out over the vast expanse of the sea.

"Baela wants to have Laena anointed as Lady of the Tides," she said quietly, her voice tinged with sadness. "It's a heavy burden for one so young, but I understand her desire to ensure the continuity of House Velaryon."

Aemond nodded, his expression grave as he considered the implications of Baela's decision. "It's a weighty responsibility for a girl of her age," he agreed, his voice tinged with concern. "But if Baela believes she is ready for the task, then we must trust in her judgment."

“Indeed, we must” replied Vaelys.

"If Laena takes her place on the Driftwood Throne," he began, his voice measured, "Then by rights, Aemon will become her consort Lord."

As the future Lady of the Tides, Laena would need the support of a strong and capable partner by her side, and Aemond knew that his son would rise to the occasion.

Vaelys nodded in agreement, her eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation. "It will be a significant role for Aemon to fulfil," she acknowledged, her voice tinged with pride. "But I have every confidence that he will do so with honour and integrity, just as his father has."

Aemond nodded wordlessly and returned his attention to the sea, Vaelys shifted slightly in the sand and spotted Cregan, his head was bowed low, his dark hair falling forward to partially obscure his face as he mourned the loss of his closest friend. His fingers twirled absently around one of the rings he wore, a small, unconscious gesture that spoke volumes of his inner turmoil.

Vaelys' heart went out to him, knowing the depth of the bond that had existed between Jace and Cregan. They had been more than just friends—they had been brothers in all but blood, their loyalty to each other unwavering and unbreakable.

With a heavy heart, Vaelys approached Cregan and without a word, she enveloped him in her embrace, feeling the weight of his grief as he buried his face in her shoulder.

For a moment, they stood locked in a silent embrace, the only sound the soft murmur of the sea and the gentle rustle of fabric. Vaelys held him close, offering him the solace of her presence, a silent reminder that he was not alone in his sorrow.

As Cregan clung to her, Vaelys felt a surge of compassion well up within her, a deep and abiding empathy for the pain he was experiencing.

As Vaelys held Cregan in her arms, offering him what little comfort she could, her thoughts drifted to the bond that had existed between him and Jace.

There had always been whispers, rumours that their relationship was something more than mere friendship. Vaelys had seen the way Cregan's gaze would linger for longer than necessary on Jace, the subtle touches and shared glances that spoke volumes of their closeness.

She had suspected something was going on between them, but she had kept her suspicions to herself, unwilling to pry into the private affairs of others. After all, it was not her place to judge the nature of their relationship, nor did it matter in the grand scheme of things.

As the embrace between Vaelys and Cregan lingered, the Lord of Winterfell finally pulled away, gratitude shining in his eyes despite the grief that still weighed heavily upon him. "Thank you, Vaelys," he murmured softly, his voice thick with emotion.

Vaelys offered him a gentle smile, her own eyes reflecting his gratitude and sorrow. "You're welcome, Cregan," she replied quietly, her voice soft and reassuring.

With a nod of thanks, Cregan turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of mourners. Vaelys watched him go, her heart heavy with sorrow for the loss he had suffered.

Turning away from the crowd, she made her way back to Aemond, she half expected him to voice his displeasure at her embracing of Cregan, as he’d never really liked the Lord of Winterfell, but he remained silent, his eye never leaving the sea.

The sun rose solemnly over Driftmark, casting a soft golden glow across the island as the people gathered for the ceremony that would mark the passing of one era and the beginning of another. In the courtyard of High Tide, banners bearing the sigil of House Velaryon fluttered in the breeze, a symbol of strength and unity in the face of loss.

“I, Vaelys of House Targaryen, the First of my Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm-In accordance with the wishes of Jacaerys Velaryon and the traditions of our house, I hereby name his eldest child Laena Velaryon as Lady of the Tides, to rule in his stead and carry on his legacy”.

As the words echoed through the courtyard, a hush fell over the crowd. Laena stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest as she prepared to take on the mantle of leadership that had been thrust upon her.

Laena took a deep breath before she lowered herself to the floor on one knee as Vaelys nodded towards Aemond.

"Aemon Targaryen, step forward-" said Aemond his voice strong and clear, cutting through the silence like a blade.

Aemon stepped forward; his expression solemn yet determined as he made his way to his father's side. His gaze met Laena's, and in that moment, there was a silent understanding between them, a shared acknowledgment of the weight of the responsibilities that lay ahead.

"Aemon Targaryen," began Aemond, his tone solemn yet filled with pride, "You stand before us today as a son of House Targaryen, but you also stand as the future consort lord of Driftmark, bound by duty and honour to Lady Laena Velaryon."

Aemon met his father's gaze, his expression determined as he listened to the words that would shape his future. With a nod of understanding, his head bowed in reverence as he pledged his loyalty and support to his wife and the future Lady of the Tides.

"I, Aemon Targaryen, swear fealty to you, Lady Laena Velaryon," he declared, his voice strong and resolute. "I will stand by your side, protect you, and uphold the honour of our house, for as long as I draw breath."

"-Now my son” Aemond proclaimed, his voice ringing out across the courtyard, "You shall kneel as Aemon Targaryen and rise as Aemon Velaryon."

With that, Aemon descended onto on knee, his heart filled with a sense of purpose and determination.

He bowed his head, and took a deep breath.

As he rose to his feet, a new name upon his lips and a new role to fulfil, he knew that he was ready to embrace the responsibilities that lay ahead, and to honour the legacy of House Velaryon with every fibre of his being.

[geekcavepodcast]

Migration Trailer

A family of ducks finally convince their overprotective father to go on a vacation of a lifetime. They embark on a journey from their New England pond to Jamaca...by way of New York City.

Illumination's Migration stars the voice talents of Kumail Nanjiani (Mack), Elizabeth Banks (Pam), Caspar Jennings (Dax), Tresi Gazal (Gwen), Awkwafina, Carol Kane, Keegan-Michael Key, David Mitchell, and Danny Devito. Benjamin Renner directs from a screenplay by Mike White.

Migration hits theaters on December 22, 2023.

[j-k-writes]

The Bronze Targaryen - 10

Summary - As (Y/N) recovers from his injury and Rhaenyra prepares for the birth of their sixth child Princess Rhaenys brings troubling news to the couple that changes the course of their lives forever.

Warnings - Canon character death(s), stillbirth, general HOTD warnings, pain, injuries, ableist language towards oneself

(Y/N) groaned as he rested his forehead against the cool stone wall. His legs shook from the effort it took to keep himself upright, his knuckles white with strain as he gripped his cane. The maesters had warned him of aggravating his injuries so soon after his recovery, but he had been going mad with boredom locked in his chambers. He hadn’t been allowed out of his chambers without someone standing guard like he was going to collapse at any second since he’d arrived on Vermithor. Although, considering the searing pain coming from his calf and shoulder perhaps he’d been too hasty in his break for freedom. 

Breathing heavily, (Y/N) straightened, his free hand placed on the wall for extra support as he made his way slowly down the hall. His jaw clenched and he barely suppressed a yell as an uneven stone on the floor caused the pain in his leg to ramp up to a blinding agony. He grabbed the wall before he could fall, but the sudden pressure on his arm jolted his shoulder and he could not stop the noise that escaped him at the sudden onset of pain. 

“Father?” 

(Y/N) turned his head at the voice, plastering a no doubt pained smile on his face at the sight of his son. “Should you not be at lessons, Luke?” 

Luke frowned, ignoring his father’s question, “Are you alright?” 

“Yes,” (Y/N) nodded. “Yes I am alright I just- I just needed to catch my breath.” 

Luke walked over to (Y/N), carefully helping sit on the ground. (Y/N) groaned in relief as the pressure was taken off his legs, allowing some of the pain to ease. Luke took a seat next to him, eyes full of worry as he looked at his father. (Y/N) raised his good arm, placing his palm on the boy's cheek in an attempt to soothe his worries. 

“I am alright, tresy. I promise, it was just a little pain.” 

Luke’s frown deepened, “It did not look like a little.” 

(Y/N) pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, “There is no need to worry about me, Luke.” Luke did not respond, and the look on his face reminded (Y/N) of the looks Rhea would give him when he was a young child. (Y/N) smiled softly, cupping his son’s cheek, “What is on your mind?” 

Luke bit his lip, and the clear conflict on his son’s face made (Y/N) frown. Luke did not meet his eyes as he spoke. “I just- I think they made a mistake.” 

“Who did?” 

“Gunthor should’ve been your heir.” 

(Y/N) clutched his son's cheek, probably too hard if the small wince from the boy was anything to go by. “Do not speak that way. You are my son, you are my heir. Gunthor was a snake and a leech and I am glad he’s dead.” 

“But-” 

“No buts, Luke.” (Y/N) said. “He wished to strip you of your birthright simply because he hated me and your grandsire.” 

“I cannot rule Runestone, father.” Luke sighed. “I’m not like you and mom.” 

“In what way, sweet boy.” (Y/N) huffed a small laugh, brushing some of Luke’s bangs out of his face. 

“I am not so-” Luke hesitated. “Perfect.” 

(Y/N) let out a full laugh at the statement, “Luke. Your mother and I are anything but. I became heir to Runestone after my mother’s death when I was just older than your brother. I did not wish for that responsibility, nor did I wish to become the Lord not four moons later when my grandsire died. My mother and grandsire looked after me and prepared me for my duties, and your father will do the same for you.” 

Before Luke could respond they were interrupted by Ser Lorent. The knight was almost frantic in his movements, and came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the two princes sitting on the stone floor. “Prince (Y/N).” 

(Y/N) nodded at the knight, “Ser Lorent.” 

“Princess Rhaenyra has requested your presence in the council chambers. The Princess Rhaenys has arrived from Kingslanding with news.” 

(Y/N) turned to his son, “We will continue this conversation later.” Luke nodded, and (Y/N) made to stand. He clenched his teeth as his body protested his movements. Luke and Ser Lorent reached to help him, but (Y/N) stopped them, holding up his hand. “I am fine.” 

He heard Luke sigh next to him, but the boy did not call his father on the lie. Instead he gave his father a small frown and watched as he struggled to stand. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before turning to Luke. “You should go back to your lessons before the maester realizes you are missing.” 

Luke nodded, giving his father an unreadable look before walking away. (Y/N) turned to Ser Lorent and motioned for him to lead the way. They had to stop halfway through the journey, (Y/N) doubling over as his stomach pain went from a dull ache to a sharp burn. Ser Lorent offered his arm to the Prince, but (Y/N) batted his hand away, taking a deep breath before continuing on to the council room. Ser Lorent trailed behind him cautiously as if expecting (Y/N) to keel over any second, which, (Y/N) mused, was not unreasonable given how he felt. 

(Y/N) collapsed into the chair that was brought out for him as soon as they reached the council room. Rhaenyra approached, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. He reached up, placing his hand atop hers. “I am fine, just in some pain.” 

“I can get the maesters-” 

“I am fine.” He repeated, squeezing her hand in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. “Let us hear what Rhaenys has to say.” 

Rhaenyra ran her hands gently through his hair, brushing the strands that had fallen from his bun out of his face and tucking them behind his ear. “Alright. But afterward I want you to get some rest.” 

“Rhaenyra-” (Y/N) prepared to argue, but he was cut off by his father’s entrance into the room. 

“Listen to Rhaenyra.” His father chastised, giving (Y/N) a hard look. “You will not recover overnight, and you will especially not recover if you do not rest.” 

(Y/N) sank in on himself, feeling like a child under his father’s gaze. Rhaenyra chuckled, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before the doors were once again opened. Rhaenys entered the room and just by the expression on her face (Y/N) could tell his family was not going to be happy to hear what she had to say. 

“The Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.” 

“Thank you, Ser Lorent.” Rhaenyra smiled, “Princess Rhaenys, might we hope for news of Lord Corlys’ recovery?” 

“Viserys is dead.” Everyone in the room froze at Rhaenys’ words. (Y/N)’s eyes snapped from Rhaenys to his wife then to his father. Both Rhaenyra and Daemon were frozen in place, watching Rhaenys carefully. “I grieve this loss with you, Rhaenyra. My cousin, your father, possessed a kind heart.”

“There is more.” Rhaenys approached Rhaenyra, taking Rhaenyra’s hand in hers. She sighed, and (Y/N) tensed preparing himself for her next words. “Aegon has been crowned as his successor.” 

(Y/N) hung his head, gripping his cane between both hands. He shut his eyes tight, ears ringing and head pounding as the conversation continued around him. 

“They crowned him?” He heard Rhaenyra ask, grief and anger evident in her voice. 

“How did Viserys die?” (Y/N) looked up at the sound of his father’s voice. 

“I could not say.” 

“How long ago?” Rhaenyra bit out, and (Y/N) watched helplessly as his wife’s walls crumbled before him. 

“A day past, perhaps two. I was made a prisoner in my quarters while the Queen made her preparations.” 

“Viserys has been slain.” His father bit out. 

“Father.” (Y/N) sighed, giving him a look, and Daemon quieted yet the fury was still burning in his eyes. 

“Alicent demanded you declare for Aegon.” Rhaenyra said, posture becoming even more tense. Both Daemon and (Y/N) sat up straighter, Daemon taking a defensive stance and angling his body toward his son and good-daughter. 

“She did.” (Y/N) saw his father’s hand fall toward his sword. “I refused her.” 

“And yet you are alive.” 

“The High Septon crowned Aegon in the Dragonpit.” Rhaenys gave Daemon a harsh look, but no one in the room relaxed at her words. “I witnessed it myself just before I fled on Meleys.” 

“They crowned him before the masses.” Rhaenyra sounded absent, as if she was barely listening to the words being spoken around her. 

“So that the masses would see him as their rightful King.” 

(Y/N) watched Rhaenyra carefully, as his father and Rhaenys began to argue. 

“That whore of a Queen murdered my brother and stole his throne. And you could’ve burned them all for it.” 

Rhaenyra winced, hand coming to rest on her stomach. (Y/N) stood, ignoring the pain it brought him. He limped over to his wife as Rhaenys responded to Daemon, paying them barely any attention. 

“A war is like to be fought over this treachery, to be sure. But that war is not mine to begin. I only rushed to you out of loyalty to my husband and to my house.” Rhaenyra gasped, and (Y/N) placed his hand on her arm. She looked up at him, eyes wide. 

“The Greens are coming for you, Rhaenyra. And for your children. You should leave Dragonstone at once.” 

Rhaenyra gasped again, and (Y/N) steadied her to the best of his ability. “Rhaenyra, what-” 

He watched as Rhaenyra grabbed her dress pulling it up far enough to reach under it. When she brought her hand back into his few he froze at the crimson blood coating her fingers. Rhaenyra looked up at her, eyes shining. 

“The babe is coming.”

Breathing deeply, (Y/N) listened to the men around him chatter on. His father was saying something about patrols as he stood next to him, but (Y/N) could not hear him over the ringing in his ears and the faint cries of his wife. 

He took a breath in, Daemon speaking once more, and he took a breath out. 

In. 

Rhaenyra screamed again, and (Y/N) gripped the arms of his chair digging his blunt nails into the wood hard enough to leave crescent indents. 

Out. 

The first time (Y/N) had climbed a tree, the knights guarding him had yelled for him to get down until their voices were hoarse. He remembers their voices becoming softer and softer as he climbed higher and higher. That day was nearly thirty years ago. And yet, as he sat in his chair trying to understand the men around him, he felt as if he was back at the top of the tree, the voices fading from him as he climbed and climbed. 

A hand touched his neck, rubbing soothing circles into his skin as he started to come back to himself. He looked to his left where his father was watching him, brows pinched in worry. He opened his mouth, before shutting it again, taking another shaky breath. 

“My Prince?” 

(Y/N) looked to Lord Celtigar, his surroundings fading back in slowly. “What?” 

Celtigar looked to his father, and Daemon simply gave the man a pointed stare. Clearing his throat, Celtigar spoke. “A raven flew in this morning. The Sea Snake’s fever has broken, and he has left Evenfall.” 

(Y/N) nodded, running his shaking hands down his face. “Where is he sailing?” 

“That much is unclear, my Prince.” 

(Y/N) nodded, and at his lack of response Daemon spoke for him. “We’ll send ravens to our nearest allies: Lords Darklyn, Massey, and Bar Emmon.” 

“As well as Lords Coldwater, Shett, and Tollett.” (Y/N) said, unsure if his voice was loud enough for the surrounding Lords to hear him, but his father nodded at his words. 

“(Y/N)!” Rhaenyra’s voice echoed through the hall, and (Y/N) winced, squeezing his eyes shut tight. 

“Go to her.” His father knelt next to him, taking his hand and gently prying his tight grip off the chair. His free hand gently grasped his neck, the pressure the only thing keeping (Y/N) grounded. “She needs you.” 

(Y/N) nodded. He grabbed his cane from where it rested against the table, standing on unsteady legs. He looked to the Lords of Rhaenyra’s council, “Naught is to be done but by Rhaenyra’s direct command.” 

He made eye contact with Jace as he turned to walk out of the room. Jace walked over silently, pausing just in front of his father. His brown eyes were hard as he took in the men before him, but (Y/N) reached out, directing his son's attention to him and only to him. 

“Make sure no action is declared while your mother is abed.” He said, soft enough to ensure only Jace heard him. Jace straightened at the command, giving his father a curt nod. 

(Y/N) ignored the way his body ached and screamed at him as he climbed the stairs to Rhaenyra’s chambers. He practically flung the doors to the chambers open, breath coming in short but desperate gasps as he looked around for his wife. The maester rushed over to him, a protest most likely on the tip of his tongue, but (Y/N) simply held his hand up. He did not speak to the man as he pushed past him, making a beeline for his sobbing wife. The handmaidens flocking Rhaenyra moved out of his way as he approached, their worry for the princess evident in the looks they gave him. 

“Rhaenyra-” Her name had barely left his lips before she was reaching for him. He stumbled at the suddenness of her embrace but willed himself to stay standing as he brought his free hand to her hair. Mumbling soft words of reassurance into her sweaty hair, (Y/N) guided her toward the bed. He took a seat on the edge of the bed, dropping his cane to hold her properly as soon as his legs were supported by the mattress. 

He guided her hands to his shoulders, biting back a groan as her nails dug into the fresh skin that covered his wounds. He rested his forehead against hers as she cried, silent tears rolling down his cheeks at his wife’s pain. The faint dragon cries in the distance made (Y/N) choke back a sob. 

He was useless to his wife. 

The war in the Vale had crippled him, probably permanently. The maesters doubted he would ever be able to properly ride his dragon again let alone fight. He couldn’t even hold Rhaenyra properly as she struggled through labor, how was he supposed to help her secure her crown? 

“Princess, let us help you.” Elinda begged. 

Rhaenyra simply shook her head, gripping her husband harder as she screamed “No. Get out!” 

(Y/N) could not tell who she was talking to, but he cupped her face gently. “Rhaenyra please.” 

“Get out.” Rhaenyra sobbed, groaning and screaming. She was bearing down forcefully now, and (Y/N) watched helplessly. 

“You should not be doing this alone, Nyra.” (Y/N) sobbed, tears flowing down his face. “Please let them help.” 

The scream that wretched itself from Rhaenyra’s throat made (Y/N) shut his eyes, unable to watch his wife’s pain any longer. He murmured incoherently as Rhaenyra birthed their child, unsure if she was even able to hear him over her screams. When the screams stopped, and a gasp echoed through the now-silent room, (Y/N) opened his eyes. 

He was unable to stop the noise that escaped him at the sight of their daughter’s body, bloody and painfully still in Rhaenyra’s arms. She cradled the babe close to her chest, bringing her up so that (Y/N) could get a proper look at the daughter he would now never know. He pressed a kiss to his daughter before resting his head on Rhaenyra’s shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered, but his wife just shook her head. They both sat there cradling their daughter between them. People filtered in and out of the room, offering condolences to the pair, but they ignored them. The maester offered to take the babe to the silent sisters for them, but both (Y/N) and Rhaenyra turned him down, insisting that they were to do the preparation themselves. 

When Rhaenyra felt well enough to stand they began to walk to the room where the silent sisters were waiting for them. The sisters didn’t bother approaching the couple, just watching as silently as their name implied. Rhaenyra set their daughter carefully on the table and began to wrap her gently in the cloth wrap. 

(Y/N) did not believe in the Stranger, so the only people he could find to place the blame of the death of his only daughter on were the Greens. The usurpers of his wife’s birthright, the people who had attempted to help rob Luke of his, and now the killers of his child. 

“Rhea Royce.” (Y/N) caught Rhaenyra’s gaze as she cried over their daughter. She sobbed harder after she was finished wrapping her and (Y/N), unable to do anything else, just held her as they sobbed in the dark room.

He could not bring himself to look at the small pyre they had built on the hill. He kept his gaze firmly locked on Vermithor, and as if the dragon could read its rider's mind, Vermihtor kept his eyes trained on (Y/N), waiting patiently for his command. 

Rhaenyra stood motionless beside her husband, watery eyes focused solely on the unlit pyre. After minutes of excruciating silence, their family standing patiently behind the couple, she turned to (Y/N), giving him a curt nod. 

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) spoke. “Dracarys.” 

He watched as Vermithor crept forward slowly, the dragon gave his rider one last look before lighting the pyre. Only then did (Y/N) force himself to look at his daughter. He and Rhaenyra stood there silently as the black smoke from the flames rose into the air. The sound of steel being drawn eventually caused (Y/N) and Rhaenyra to turn to face the crowd behind them. 

A kingsguard that (Y/N) was not acquainted with stood before the crowd, putting the Prince immediately on edge. The guard took his helmet off, speaking to the guards in front of him. “I mean no harm brothers.” 

(Y/N) took a step forward, putting himself between the knight and his wife. The man reached into his satchel, taking the crown of (Y/N)’s great-grandfather and uncle out. (Y/N)’s eyes widened at the action, and his surprise furthered when the man kneeled, presenting (Y/N) with the crown. 

“I swear to ward the Queen with all my strength and give my blood for hers.” (Y/N) took the crown from the knight, turning it over in his hands to get a proper look at it. “I shall take no wife, hold no land, father no children. I shall guard her secrets, obey her commands, ride at her side, and defend her name and honor.” 

(Y/N) turned to Rhaenyra as those around them began to slowly bend the knee. Her face betrayed her surprise at the events, and (Y/N) slowly approached. He held the crown of her ancestors before her above her placing it softly on her head. (Y/N) knelt before his wife, the pain in his body easier to ignore than ever before. He kept his eyes trained on her as he spoke. 

“My Queen.”

---

Translations -

Tresy - son

Dracarys - dragon fire

[hyperfixatedfangirl1202]

A short fic that came to mind while I was thinking about Helaena and her twins (takes place before Aegon IIˈs coronation).

Helaena sat by the window, softly humming to herself. She was sewing a dress for her mother. She was thinking of her the other night, and the color black suddenly came to her mind, her sight blackening out. It was not the first time this had happened to her, while she was thinking of her mother, but in the last few weeks, it happened more than once, as if the association was becoming stronger, more incessant. She had to let it out, she had to let it out of her mind, the darkness, the clouds closing in, the roar of dragons in the distance getting louder, the cruel laughter, and the cries of a thousand mothers, one of which sounded like her own....she furiously blinked a few times, her hand stilling its movement for a minute. She looked up from her embroidery work, anxiously gripping the material of the unfinished dress.

Her children were not in the room with her at present, which made her feel admittedly uneasy. Since their birth four years ago they scarcely spent any time apart. They had an established daily routine, and while her twins spent most of the time with her, her maid would take them to play outside for an hour while Helaena was free to do whatever she wanted. Most of the time, she turned to sewing. She found that it calmed her elusive mind, which was a mystery even to her. And besides, it warmed her heart to see Jaehaerys and Jaehaera wearing the clothes she had sewn for them. Though clothes were not the only things she had sewn for them; the blankets in their cribs, the pillows upon which they laid their heads every night.

And suddenly...a fear had gripped at her heart with a surprising strength. That was not an unfamiliar feeling either, but ever since she first saw the head of her son, the first of her twins to emerge during childbirth, fear gripped her heart, a strange kind of fear, that she knew was unfounded, and yet...she stood up abruptly from her seat, and ran towards the door, opening it up. She barely registered her confused Kingsguard following after her. She just knew that she had to get to her children; they were not safe. There are rats. Rats in the Red Keep. A lot of rats. Rats, and they want, they want to eat her son, they want to take him away from her, and no, no, no, no, no, no, that cannot be, that cannot happen, please, please, please, please, please,...

"Princess?" she hears and the voice makes her stop. She takes a few deep breaths in, and forces them into her lungs. It is her personal maid, Leana, one of the few other people she lets her children be alone with. She looks around, looking for the source of the voice, and sees the Weirwood tree, the only one left in the capitol. She is in the Godswood, she realizes. A shiver runs down her spine, as her eyes lock on to the face carved into the tree. It feels like...no, not feels like, it is watching her, she is certain of it. She feels its cold, unforgiving stare in her soul, and she cannot look away, and she hears a child cry...no, not just a child cry...it sounds like....no, please, no, it cannot be, no....

"Mommy?" she hears a little voice peep, a voice she would recognize anytime. She breaks away from the trance and turns around to see her little son, her little Jaehaerys. She breathes a shaky sigh of relief, and drops to her knees, opens her arms wide. Jaehaerys walks into her embrace without hesitation and she hugs him tightly to her chest, closes her eyes, and lets herself relax.

"Issa jorrāelagon tresy (My dearest son)" she says in Valyrian with a gentle, loving tone.

She opens her eyes to her maid holding the hand of her darling daughter, and she smiles at her.

"I missed you both so much," she says and nuzzles Jaehaerysˈs head, making him giggle adorably, which makes her smile broaden.

"I know how much you both love to be outside, but I will take you back inside now," she says softly, but her words breach no argument. She lifts Jaehaerys into her arms and smiles at her daughter. She nods at her maid, and while Leana is clearly confused, she nods.

"At once, Princess," she says, and takes Jaehaera by her hand and starts walking back inside the castle. Helaena follows after her, poignantly refusing to spare even one look at the Weirwood tree, but it does little to calm the storm inside her head, which she knows will come to haunt her again.

[volcre]

& @bigdaddydaemon // cont.

TOUCH HAD BEEN SUCH A SCARCE form of language in her life that it still felt so surprising and new whenever she felt Daemon's hand grazing her own, their fingers tangling together, their lips touching in a kiss of need. each and every single one of the new forms of physical contact making the Princess' head spin with how blissfull it felt, how new, how fulfilling. for her life had truly been one that lacked any form of real, grounding emotions. her parents as absent and separated from their daughter as could be - an error forgiven adn forgotten because the King and Queen had many other duties to accomplish rather than spending time with their daughter. many other pressing matters and orders to follow through with as the court and the kingdom demanded and expected. ( and one of them had cost the Queen her life )

the smell of soil and wind proceeds him, making Rhaenyra's nose twitch at the scents mixing in with the clean and fresh air from the opened window. but she did not dare comment, not finding the new scent offensive in any way, it brought nothing but comfort - it smelled of nothing but him. their days spent out in the meadows or cliffs, chasing each other through grass, laying on dry soil and watching the stars above them. Rhaenyra could hear it in his voice, Daemon's worry for her short and vague answer, but then again what more could she add. what more could she say that would not make the man think her absolutely INSANE? but could one truly be called paranoid when they knew the truth? could one be truly too careful when they knew of the dangers lurking behind any corner of their path --- a betrayal of the one that had promised to love and cherish, a sacrifice in the name of the better good?

and then it was that touch - that one single touch of Daemon's hand on her own that broke her attention away from the window and right to his familiar, albeit slightly worried, gaze. "iksi expected naejot maghagon iā riña ezīmagon bisa vys aderī." [ we will be expected to bring a child into this world, soon. ] the words bitter on the woman's tongue, twisting her lips into a small scowl before she looked away from her husband and back to the view of the horizon "--- iā dārilaros, iā tresy." [ an heir, a son ]