Disclaimer: The Game of Thrones TV series and A Song of Ice and Fire books are the sole property of HBO and G.R.R. Martin. All characters depicted here, besides my OC(s), belong to their legitimate owners.

Fair Warning: Some words or phrases used in this story may be offensive to certain parties. Please understand it is done for the sake of realism and authenticity in regards to the story and the characters. The opinions, thoughts, and/or actions of a character or group of characters does not reflect those of the author. Thank you.

IV

Daenerys

Entry #9

July 25th, 2008

Our squad was tasked with a routine patrol and IED sweep around the area today. We'd left Lorenzo at 0600 local time, and had been into it for about an hour. Alpha was in the lead with the 50. Cal, Charlie was in the middle MRAP with Doc and Squad Lead, and we were in the rear. Hernan was driving, I was on the Mk19, Ronnie was just looking out the window keeping an eye out for any trouble, and George was playing some NWA on his CD player in the backseat. The jokes and idle chatter had died down. We were tired of looking at the same shitty Afghani countryside.

Then it just happened. An explosion goes off at our front, and I drop down from the hatch like a rock. Hernan's suddenly trying to take back control of the swerving Humvee, George is holding onto his seat for dear life, and Ronnie is cursing up a storm. The few seconds it takes to halt the damn vehicle feels like a lifetime.

We looked over to the front of the patrol after getting our shit together, and all we saw in the settling dust cloud was a heap of scorched metal and the burning wreck of Alpha's Humvee. It didn't take long for everyone to figure out they'd been hit by an IED. Once we set up security and Squad Lead radioed back to the outpost, a couple of the guys from Charlie began going through the wreckage to find what they could. There wasn't much left. Just bits and pieces here and there. Whatever they did find had to be covered up by blankets or towels. A lot of time was spent making sure wild dogs didn't make a meal out of an arm or leg.

We were the ones that had to go through their stuff when we finally RTB'd. Letters never sent, a few photos of loved ones or a girl they were hooked up with, clothes and all the other crap stuffed in their bedside satchels, things like that. It all had to be packed up to be sent off to their families before the barracks could be cleaned up. I wasn't ready for that, and I don't think the other guys were either. We just sat there for a while at first, not really sure where to start.

The recruiters never tell you about this emotional shit.

—

It was the last passage from the journal she had willed herself to read. So many words and acronyms she failed to comprehend, but the emotion and vivid gruesomeness was easy enough for her to discern. Reading it for the first time had been the cause of a dramatic revelation: Anthony's book was not just the incoherent ramblings of a common infantryman. It was a memoir, recollecting certain moments that stood out during what was possibly the most stressful time in a man's life. Nevermind how she barely understood any of it, only growing more confused with every next journal entry. For Daenerys to have read any further, especially without Anthony's consent, would have been an immoral violation of his privacy. An invasion of the man's sacred memories. Mother of Dragons and the true inheritor of the Iron Throne or not, she had no right to do so. It was simply not her place.

There was one question that heavily nagged her mind, however. What was an 'IED', and how was it able to so thoroughly decimate a group of men in the blink of an eye? The consequences of its effects... she imagined Wild Fire, but quickly discarded the idea. Doesn't sound right, she thought. He wrote of some sort of explosion, but not of insatiable green flames.

She closed the book, rewrapped it in the Dothraki cloths, and then stood up from her bedroom's small table set. A few hours had passed since she and Jorah spoke with Lehmann, and during that time she had attended to another visit to Qarth's markets alongside Xaro Xhoan Daxos. She had come back to her temporary home only some minutes ago, the young Targaryen finding herself with little else to do but reread select parts of the small booklet. Now she decided it was as good a time as any to pay a visit to the 'Marine'. As she walked down the stairs to the courtyard below past a watchful Dothraki guard, she wondered if Anthony's temper was at ease. She'd surely given him enough time to calm down. Her Blood Riders had also returned most of his personal belongings after she left earlier. If he was still moody, though, making civil conversation with him would likely prove to be difficult after admitting to having read parts of his journal. Ultimately, she would no longer be hiding that fact from him come the next hour.

Daenerys nearly bumped right into Jorah as soon as she stepped into the area her Khalasar had established as their lodging. A collision was only avoided by his quick reflexes. "Khaleesi." He was apparently a little surprised to see her there rather than in her chambers. "I was on my way to check on you."

"Xaro accompanied me while I was gone," she stated prudently while continuing onward and motioning for him to follow. "I don't believe there is anything to worry about, Ser Jorah."

He frowned slightly as he followed suit on her right side, but said no more on the subject beyond, "Of course, Khaleesi."

She knew very well of Jorah's distaste of Xaro. He believed the powerful merchant prince's goal was to gain more power through Daenerys and her dragons; to win her over through charm and objects of luxury only to use her for his own gains later. After the previous night's disagreement, she also now knew one of Jorah's biggest reasons was jealously. He was emotionally attracted to her in one way or another, and her growing time spent with Xaro was frustrating the older man. Of course, she too didn't trust the eccentric member of 'The Thirteen' – the political body of the city's mercantilist government. The large and dark-skinned man tried too hard in his attempts to woo her. It often inclined her to agree with her advisor's beliefs. But, at the end of the day, she unfortunately needed her pursuer. He did have the power and money he so liked to boast about, and it was that influence and prestige that would aid in building her army that would sail to retake Westeros from the usurpers.

"Was there something you wished to discuss," she asked, eager to distract herself from the topic.

"None." He paused as he took notice of where she was heading. The complex's secondary housing structure. "Although I am now curious as to where you intend to go."

"I want to speak to our guest again. Privately." She shifted her head in his direction, but kept her gaze forward. When she spoke again, her voice carried with it a clear sharpness. "Do you think this decision to be unwise as well?"

Jorah's body stiffened slightly. "I would be lying if I said no."

A spark of anger flashed through her eyes, but she kept it under control and unnoticed with a deep yet quiet breath. She understood her advisor's reasoning, truly. He saw Anthony as a complete unknown with a murky background at best, and that was more than enough of a cause for wariness. However, the exiled knight's constant questioning of her choices as of late was becoming increasingly frustrating. His duty was to advise her, not turn combative with every decision she made for which he disagreed. Beyond that, something had to be done about their guest. They most certainly couldn't just pretend he didn't exist, left under guard in his chambers forever. Nor could they simply let him go. The mysteries behind his origins and the tools he brought along were too great.

"And are you giving me this council as my advisor or my admirer?" Daenerys knew the question was a bit of a low blow, noticing how Jorah winced. She was still bitter from that nightly discussion, and so felt the urge to remind him with a taste of her spite. To prove the point further, she stopped in place and looked him in the eye before he could provide a response. "No need to answer, Ser Jorah. I'm sure you have more important matters to attend to." And with that she turned back toward her destination alone, feeling somewhat unfair yet right all the same.

She found herself standing in the hallway outside Anthony's room just a few moments later. Rakharo was standing watch in the hallway, being the guard during daylight hours, and nodded in greeting. "Here to see the strange man, Khaleesi?"

"Yes," she answered plainly, her tone hiding her previous annoyance. "Has he spoken to anyone while I was away?"

He slightly shifted uncomfortably with his next words. "Not since we had returned his belongings."

Daenerys noticed the small gesture of uneasiness. "Does that trouble you?"

He looked to the floor in hesitation, but only for a moment before turning his gaze back to her own. "It is not the Dothraki way to give back what has been taken."

"Nothing had been taken to begin with," she stated stoutly. Rokharo's comment did not come as a surprise, in all honesty, for it was entirely truthful. The Dothraki people were not prone to releasing the items they collected and deemed as their own. She understood this fact, and had very much expected a bit of disagreement within her Khalasar when making the decision to release Anthony's belongings. Her people, however, needed to learn that some things needed to be changed if they were to achieve their goals. To build an army worthy of retaking Westeros, they needed to adapt. "They were always his. We only held them while he rested."

He responded by straightening himself. "Of course, Khaleesi."

Although he resigned to her – not that Daenerys left any room for argument – she assumed he did so somewhat reluctantly. It didn't matter. She knew without a doubt that Rakharo would follow and maintain belief in her judgement regardless of his personal feelings. She believed that strongly in his loyalty. "I want to speak to our guest now," she then said dismissively, but not coldly. The Blood Rider understood her unspoken wish to move on from this distraction, giving no more than a nod before opening the door for her.

The Mother of Dragons was met with an unusual scene inside. The wood-carved table that was supposed to have been at the center of the room was now rearranged along the farthest wall to the right. In its place on the floor was Anthony Lehmann, the garments provided for him earlier having been discarded in favor of his original oddly colored and patterned uniform. Laid beneath him was a spare blanket for his bed, and he was seemingly using it as a platform for exercising via push-ups. What particularly caught her notice was how he did not appear to acknowledge her entry into the room whatsoever. There was no turn of the head or a hasty glance toward the doorway, as if he did not realize someone had walked in. He remained like this even as she approached within just a few feet, Daenerys getting a good look of the sweat building up in his short hair and the back of his neck. It was then, while she watched him continue his exercise with a curious gaze, that she saw the culprit behind his lack of reaction. Within the man's ears were what at first glance appeared to be small white ear plugs. However, with closer inspection, it was made obvious that they were something else entirely. Thin white strings of some sort dangled from both pieces, falling to the floor and eventually coming together to connect to a narrow rectangular device placed below Anthony's head. It was all white except for a sort of black box taking up the upper portion of the top side.

Before she could investigate further, the self-proclaimed Marine ceased his workout and raised himself to his feet. He finished removing the plugs from his ears and storing the bizarre gadget in his trousers' pocket when his gaze finally wandered in her direction. "Jesus," he exclaimed while jumping back a bit in surprise. Anthony exhaled a stressed breath and placed his hand over his chest. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

Daenerys' lips curved slightly into an amused smile. She would've been lying had she admitted to not finding the unintentional scare to be a little humorous. "We were in the room with you for some time now. Perhaps you should learn to be more observant."

"Anyone ever teach you how to knock," he asked with an agitated frown.

Her already small smile retracted quickly, her eyes narrowing. "I was not aware I needed to ask for your permission to wander within my own home."

The Marine snorted at the underlying meaning of her statement. "That doesn't mean you should just barge into someone's room like that and invade their privacy. What if you'd come in and I was butt naked?"

The oddness of that response caused her to hesitate for a split second. "Why would your clothes be off? You've already bathed, have you not?"

"I don't know," he declared with a shrug, sounding somewhat confused by his own comment as well. "I was just giving an example."

It was quickly becoming obvious that Anthony was a very irritating individual, and for no real reason either. Just the way he talked – the casualness and borderline disrespect in his tone – so easily seemed to get under her skin. Using an adhesive to glue his mouth shut sounded like an exceptional idea at that very moment. "Do you enjoy infuriating me?"

He paused for a moment, apparently in thought, before suddenly smirking. "Maybe."

The Mother of Dragons could feel the theoretical fire burning in her eyes after hearing his reply. "And what, pray tell, gave you the idea antagonizing me would be fun?!"

Anthony's smirk only grew wider, showing off his white teeth in a sly grin. "Well, you kinda look hot when you get angry."

For the shortest of moments, Daenerys' jaw dropped at the utter audacity of this man. Of course, that was before she hastily returned to wishing her glare could pierce holes in his chest. The nerve...! "You dare imply my anger is sexually attractive?!"

"I didn't imply anything," he stated with a chuckle.

She couldn't help but be temporarily dumbstruck by Anthony then and there. His sheer boldness was unlike that of any man she had ever met before. Even Viserys did not match the Marine in this regard; her now deceased brother was more cruel and vulgar than anything else. Sucha gutsy character might have even impressed her, had it instead not so completely disgusted her. "You... brute. Perhaps Ser Jorah should have cut your tongue after all."

Anthony quickly raised his hands up in a surrendering gesture and took a slow step backwards. He must have noticed Rakharo, who was still standing behind Daenerys, threateningly tug on his Arakh. "Woah there, calm down. It was just a joke," so he said, yet the hint of a smirk never left his face.

The thought of letting her Blood Rider make good on Jorah's promise genuinely passed through her mind. However, she tamed the dragon within her heart and controlled herself, motioning her hand for Rakharo to cease. "Your 'jokes' hold humor I fail to see."

The Marine sighed, mumbled about some pole being stuck up something, then turned around with a shake of his head. "So, I guess you ain't here for the small talk," he asked while taking a seat on his bed.

I was before you acted like an obnoxious child, she thought bitterly. "Most certainly not."

"Then why are you here?"

"To return your journal."

Anthony's body immediately tensed up, eyes widening. His surprised state only lasted a moment, though. "You have my journal," he asked when she revealed the small clump of Dothraki cloth that contained the book.

As she proceeded to unwrap it, all her pent-up ferocity quite abruptly tempered down. It didn't disappear by any stretch of the means, but an unintended feeling of uneasiness crept up her spine. She didn't like it. Why should Daenerys Targaryen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea and Mother of Dragons, feel nervous over something as trivial as returning a book? To a mere footsoldier of a foreign nation, no less? Yes, she had read it when it wasn't her place. Yes, she had violated the Marine's privacy by doing so. But those details should have been inconsequential to herself. "Yes," she confirmed coolly. She straightened her back and looks directly into his eyes, maintaining her collected and noble appearance. "I've come to assume it means a great deal to you?"

"Yeah... it does." He then took on an interesting look. While his eyes seemed to lightly narrow into a glare, he didn't look all too upset about it. As if he already knew the answer to his next question. "You read it?"

"Some of it," she admitted without hesitation. Or visible shame.

With her admission, she had expected a resentful backlash from Anthony in one form or another. Much to her curiosity, however, all the man gave was a defeated sigh, shoulders slouching and glare vanishing as fast as it came. "Figured as much." Then, he lifted his hand and gestured for her to approach.

Daenerys did so with some reluctance. Not because she didn't want to surrender the journal, but because she had yet to become comfortable with standing as close to the Marine as necessary to hand it to him. The way he nonchalantly motioned her over as if she was his servant also didn't give her cause to behave any kinder. "I had only read as far as the ninth entry," she claimed a bit vexingly as he took hold of the book. "In case you were curious."

To his credit, he didn't turn irritable at the statement. Rather, it appeared he hadn't paid any heed to it at all. Lehmann's attention was entirely on the small journal now in his hands, holding it with more care than one might deem necessary and staring at it with a somber smile. He went on to open the book and flip through its entries. When he came upon the ending pages, he stopped and looked at what was written with an even more peculiar expression before closing the book with a clap. "I'm surprised you didn't read further."

Although she knew better, she was still insulted from the unheard and likely unintentional insinuation. "I stopped reading it the moment I realized I had no right to continue. I do know how to respect others' privacy."

He shook his head and snorted, but didn't otherwise say anything right afterwards. Was that in disbelief or dismissal? "Do you even understand half of what's written in here," he asked after several seconds of silence.

"No," she said with a shade of embarrassment behind her narrowed gaze. "But I understood enough."

A mirthless chuckle and cocked eyebrow was his immediate response. But instead of commenting further on that, he asked a distinctly strange question. "You want to hear some music?"

The Mother of Dragons didn't know how to properly answer that. "Music?"

"Yeah, music," he repeated somewhat mockingly. It was as if he was being obvious. "The sounds you make with instruments? The stuff you listen to when you wanna dance or maybe just relax?"

"I know what music is," she claimed heatedly. "I am not uncultured. I find the question odd."

"How is it odd?" Now Anthony looked genuinely puzzled, which only served to greaten her own confusion. "It's a simple question."

Now she was on the verge of gritting her teeth. "It may be a simple question, but I don't see how you will be producing any music."

"Haven't you ever heard..." He stopped mid-sentence when his face suddenly shifted into an expression of deep thought. Then, barely a moment later did he abruptly begin laughing, quickly gaining stares questioning his mental health. When he noticed said stares, he did his best to collect himself and spoke again. "Sorry. That was my fault." Daenerys' raised eyebrow demanding elaboration gave him cause to continue. "I should have guessed you've never heard of an IPod."

"… What is an Eye-Pod?"

Apparently, something she said was humorous, because the Marine chuckled again. "A wonder of modern technology," he answered while reaching into his pocket. After some digging, his hand returned to reveal the small white rectangular gadget that was on the floor while he was exercising earlier. Still connected to it were the corded earplugs, albeit knotted together. He quickly untangled them and raised one to her. "Here."

"You want me to put that in my ear," she asked slowly and skeptically.

An immediate and nonchalant "Yes," was his response.

She wasn't convinced of what he was suggesting in the slightest. Music without an instrument? "So, you are telling me I will be able to hear music if I do?" His nod made her scoff, then nearly snarl. Impossible. "Is this another joke, Anthony Weber?" Enough of these games! "Because I do not find this funny."

He became exasperated with her reaction, rubbing the bridge of his nose with an annoyed look. "This isn't a joke, okay? Just put it in your ear, and I promise you'll hear music."

It was at this point in her visit Daenerys began wondering why in the Seven Hells she had ever decided to save this crude and uncouth man, let alone stand in the same room and attempt a civil discussion with him. He was one of the greatest frustrations she had dealt with since... well, she'd certainly experienced quite a lot of incomparable situations and people in the past year. Being wed to a Dothraki warlord against her will, inexplicably falling in love with said warlord and bearing his child, seeing her brother mercilessly – and justifiably – executed with molten gold, losing her husband and child to a witch's dark magic... perhaps Anthony Weber wasn't the most dreadful person she'd encountered in quite some time. However, that didn't change the fact he was a disrespectful brute that infuriated her to no end. He made her personally want to wrap her hands around his neck and strangle him, and it had only taken two conversations to reach that point! Gods forbid the Red Waste could have given her a grateful and well-mannered individual to save from near-death.

"Fine," she relented after a moment, walking to the side of his bed. "Hand me the bloody thing. And let us end this affair before I grow ever more intolerant of your presence."

"Here I thought I was adding some excitement to your life." Anthony chuckled briefly before clearing his throat, Daenerys' glare signifying her lack of amusement.

She snatched the strange earplug from his open palm and placed it in her ear without anymore hesitation. "There is already enough excitement in my life."

The Marine dismissed her statement with a shrug, then looked to the white gadget in his hands. "I don't usually listen to Classical, but there's a few tracks on here." He then snorted. "And I figure that's the only thing you'd like anyways."

"Classical," she questioned, before the small black box on the flat side of his device quite literally illuminated and snatched her attention away. The Mother of Dragons slack-jawed as her eyes widened at the unbelievable sight. "How-"

And then the music started.

'Weber's Random Tracks'

[Bach Cello Suite No. 1 – Prelude]

Press Play?

It started soft, yet constant. The melody – done with what sounded like no more than a single unrecognizable string instrument – was smooth and relaxing, but also ever-present and exploratory at the same time. The rhythm was somewhat fast, but in a manner that gave the impression of continual motion rather than energy and speed. So easy to listen to and understand, yet so difficult to describe. Though odd hearing it through only one ear, the soothing effect of the foreign piece was nearly immediate.

Interestingly, as it went on to slightly drop in pitch before rising back up, Daenerys easily imagined herself traveling aboard a ship. And in this imagination sprung up by the seeds of music, she wasn't sailing in the name of conquest of any land such as Westeros. In fact, she didn't have a destination; it was just her, the sea, and the breeze's salty tint against her face that her memories of Pentos told her was the cause of the ocean water. Then, near what she figured was near the ending, the tone softened dramatically for the span of a few notes, and she could almost feel the steady buildup that followed. As if she were flying to a grand climax higher than the peak of the tallest mountain. When the conclusion did come, it brought a marvelous sentiment of peaceful accomplishment. Like soaring above the clouds in the sky and knowing all was well in the world.

It was beautiful.

CHAPTER END