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, respectively. 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.

Important Notice: For all returning Followers, you'll notice how I changed Anthony's last name from 'Weber' to 'Lehmann.' This change was made as to better represent the character's heritage, and because frankly 'Weber' was just a placeholder name used until I could replace it with one I liked better. Furthermore, I've made various quality of life edits/changes throughout the story, and will continue to do so in the future.

Lastly, if any Followers that haven't looked back in the story and are here due to the update happen to be active duty or retired military, specifically USMC, I have a new note for you at the end of Chapter I. Please read it over real quick.

Thank you all for the continued support. Until next time...

VII

Daenerys

For some time, all Lehmann did was stare at her children in awe. Daenerys couldn't help but smile faintly in amusement. There was an inherent satisfaction and pride in owning the ability to render others speechless, requiring only the presence of her dragons. It was a small power she relished in even as the scaly bodies crawled up her figure, the black form of Drogon taking the highest point on her left shoulder, the green of Rhaegal content with hanging onto her right arm, and the creamy white of Viserion relaxing himself in the cup of her left forearm. In the flickering light of lit candles and lamps, the colorings were no less vibrant. Three pairs of exotic reptilian eyes were responding in kind to the newcomer.

"Those..." The marine mumbled incoherently while digesting the sight before him. "They have wings; reptiles with wings. Those are baby dragons."

Her smile grew slightly, but it disappeared a second later. "Indeed, they are."

His gaze, still wide in amazement, locked with her own then. "Real, fire-breathing dragons?"

"My children would certainly not be dragons could they not create fire."

The sound he made was something between a shaken exhale and a snort, before his own lips curved upwards. "Mother of Dragons, was it?"

She frowned at his teasing, knowing it was more than just that. "I was beside them as they hatched. They see me as their mother, just as I see them as my sons."

Anthony grunted, likely holding more on his tongue but reserving himself regardless, before turning his attention back to her dragons. She was admittedly relieved. Daenerys was in no mood for another series of questioning, one undoubtedly designed to irritate her. His next statement, however, caught her completely off guard. "Not gonna lie... they're fuckin' adorable."

She could not decide what surprised her more in that moment – his sudden claim of affection for her children, or the lack of visible fear in his demeanor. Flattery was not an uncommon occurrence. Many the merchants and political entities of Qarth had been open with their shows of wonder, several of which more than likely holding ulterior motives, but there had always been an inherent unease to such displays. Her handmaidens were no exceptions, for none forgot the nature of her infant children. There was the nervous tension, seen in the whites of the eyes or the stiffness of the muscles. Sheep dared not grow careless in the presence of dragons lest they incur the flaming wrath. Not Lehmann though. Instead, Daenerys could see naught but genuine child-like fascination, similar to what might be felt for a young pup or kitten. She ignored the oddness in her chest.

Noticing her bewilderment, he shrugged with an amused smirk. "I've always had a thing for lizards," he claimed matter-of-factly. "Used to have pet snakes when I was a kid."

The comparison wiped away her momentary shock and made her blood rise to a simmer. She could feel her children grow tense in response. "My dragons are not pets, nor are they mere reptilian beasts."

"And I didn't say they were," he hastily replied with his own frown. "I was just explaining myself, so it'd be appreciated if you don't go taking words outta my mouth." A sigh escaped his lips, then he spoke again before she could retort. "But I'm sorry if that's what it sounded like."

She would have preferred his apology without the earlier comment, but she accepted it after a few seconds of deliberation with a small nod, bringing her children to the stone balustrade at the edge of her chambers as her temper cooled. "You are right." It would have been to a lie to claim surrendering as such did not annoy her in the slightest, but the bickering was truly becoming exhausting. This was not what she wanted their conversations in the future to forever resort to. "I shouldn't have made such an assumption."

"I don't blame you. I'm pretty sure it's safe to say we're both a bit on edge right now."

His comment succeeded in bringing a light smile to her lips even if it had not been the intention, and it remained after her dragons finished removing themselves, their undivided attention now towards her giving rise to a pleasant warmth. She ensured the smile had faded when her gaze turned back towards Lehmann, now pointedly focused on the alien weapon still in his hands. "Your presence among them is not permitted lightly. I hope you will take this as a token of trust."

Lehmann's face went blank then, understanding the implication, as his eyes locked with her own. Without any initial sign of compliance, he eventually placed his removed helm on the room's table between them, the same used in their first discussion, and rested his weapon tube-up along the nearest baluster. "You now gonna to tell me what's really going on?"

Daenerys briefly looked to Irri, whom was patiently lingering at the entrance of the room, and nodded. The Dothraki handmaiden spared a nod in return before leaving the chambers, her objective being to fetch the evening meal prepared by Xaro's kitchen staff. "Trust is required to work both ways," she finally said once she, Jorah, and Lehmann were alone. "I'm prepared to divulge everything I've kept hidden to you, but I must also ask you to do the same."

The marine's eyes narrowed. "What exactly are you asking for? You already had the chance to read my journal."

"The conflicts you've experienced in the past are not of my concern, at least for now." She seated herself at the table and motioned for him to do the same. "Rather, I want to know about you. The world and country you come from, what it's like, and your standing in it. I need to learn the person you are and the kind of place that creates such a man. The ignorance we share is what is creating this distrust between us, Anthony Lehmann. It must be reconciled if we are to continue forward."

He momentarily looked between his weapon and the chair before relenting. Sitting down, he released a sigh more drawn out than the last. "Alright, that's fair. Who's going to start talking first?"

It was obvious he had preferred her to. "You know more about me than I know of you," she stated calmly, the tension easing down.

The unsaid was understood. She could tell he didn't exactly like that, but he gave in. "Okay... anything specific you wanna know first?"

"Your homeland, this United States you mentioned, would be a good start."

"Where do I begin?" he asked more himself than her. He turned to his left to the darkened view outside, though he was not looking at anything in particular. With his eyes searching between the starry sky and the surrounding sight of the palace in its nightly functions, their generic brown almost appeared to become a dark cloudy solemn grey in the candle light. It was certainly Daenerys' imagination at play. "First thing's first, I have to make clear that my world is a hell of a lot more technologically advanced than yours."

She had already begun nuzzling Drogon's snout, keeping a portion of her attention spared for her children as to keep them content, when she nodded. "Your 'eye-pod' and weapon were proof enough of that."

"No," he declared with a shake of his head. "That stuff's just the tip of the ice berg. You really have no idea just how far ahead in tech I'm talking about." He then leaned back into his seat to stare at the ceiling, proceeding to try her patience for half a minute while in search of what to say and how to say it. It can't be that difficult to explain, she thought with growing annoyance. "You know that the world is a sphere?" he eventually asked.

"I was taught as such during my childhood." Her eyebrow lifted in mild confusion. "Why?"

Lehmann ignored the question. It irked her – she wished he would get to the point already – but she let it pass. "You're aware that the planet can be circumnavigated? As in, if you go far enough in one direction, you'll eventually come back to the same place?"

"It's never been done as far as I know, but yes, most educated people know it to be possible."

"Then that'll make this a lil' easier to explain." He fidgeted in his seat before continuing, hand scantily rubbing his thigh. The injury to his leg still bothered him, although he was clearly attempting to hide the discomfort. "So, in my world, the entire planet's pretty much been completely explored, from the highest mountain peak to the lowest valley to the deepest depths of the ocean. Everything's been mapped out."

The information genuinely intrigued the Mother of Dragons. She wasn't about to soon ask how the people of his world managed to reach the bottom of the seas, since such a question likely would have been dismissed with a vague mention of some incomprehensible 'science,' but it certainly gave her something to think and talk about for the future. For a fraction of a second, she was reminded of a child's innocent dreams now many years gone. "It must be nice, knowing all there is to know of the natural world and its wonders." She then lightly shook herself out of her sentimental stupor. "But what does any of this have to do with your United States?"

"I guess I didn't exactly start off on the most logical note, but this is still sort of important to understanding how my country came to be and what made it what it is today." The man shifted uncomfortably in his seat again, but he insisted on ignoring the obvious annoyance his leg caused as best he could. "Now, I don't know how big Westeros is, but all I can really think of to compare it to is the continent of Europe. Or, well, a continent-sized version of the UK now that I think about its shape." He waved his hand in dismissal. "Anyways, Europe has kind of been the center of Human civilization for a long time in my world. Quite a few empires throughout history called it home, and for the past thousand years or so it's belonged to a large collection of nations who spent a bunch of that time fighting each other.

"Why I'm bringing this up? Because about five hundred years ago, in the year 1492, explorers found out that there was a whole other set of continents across the ocean to the West, uninhabited for the most part and filled with untapped resources. The 'Americas,' they called it. Of course, the countries of Europe wanted a piece of all that land and wealth, so for the following decades they shipped people there and made colonies, even waged some small wars in the process. This mad dash for colonialism really jump-started what is called the 'Age of Exploration,' and what helped lead to the first expedition to ever circumnavigate the globe."

As impressive of a feat that was, some other puzzle pieces were coming together. "I'm assuming these colonies in the Americas are what became the United States?"

Lehmann hummed. "Not all of them, but you're on the money," he affirmed, sounding mildly impressed. Why did it sound like he was speaking to her as if she a child? An irrational feeling perhaps, considering he hadn't made any true indication to be doing so, but it still bothered her regardless.

"It was not a difficult assertion to make," she stated quietly, but no less sharply, before moving on. "I doubt any of the home countries would have permitted that to happen easily."

If he noticed her jab, he did not show it. "Definitely not Great Britain, which was the most powerful of the European nations at the time. By the 1770s, when their original thirteen colonies in North America were getting pissed off with unfair taxes and no government representation, Britain was already a self-proclaimed colonial empire with holdings around the world. They had the strongest navy and the best trained military force on the planet, and they'd won several recent wars against other major countries. The ruler, King George, didn't like his most profitable colonies protesting and disrespecting his rule, and so he sent part of that big military of his to 'keep the order.'

"With nothing left to do after years of peaceful but failed negotiations, the shit that'd been brewing finally spilled over in 1775 and started a full-blown war of independence. A year later, the leaders of the colonies came together and officially founded the United States of America."

Daenerys had noticed the proud smile he'd worn as he spoke about the creation of his homeland, seeing the loyalty and devotion as clear as day. And why should he not feel such a way? How many countries could boast they were created from a desire for freedom rather than through the subjugation of others? The Seven Kingdoms were only united because of my ancestors' dreams of conquest, she reminded herself. "A history to be proud of." Then her lips formed into a questioning frown. "But how did your countrymen win this war against what you yourself acknowledged to be the greatest army in the world? I can't imagine the colonies had many ships to fight on the seas, or knights to fight on the land."

The marine's smile turned into a smirk. "Knights in shining armor were already relics of the past by that point. Weren't all that useful when faced against the technology of the era."

His claim baffled her, more so than any other he'd made yet. "No knights? Did you not say 'King' George was the ruler of Britain? How does one have a kingdom with no knights?"

Smirk fading away, his gaze drifted down to his weapon briefly. He near instantly looked back at her as if attempting to hide what he'd done, but then appeared to go deep into thought soon after. He wears his emotions for all to see, she realized. The odd fact had not truly hit her until that very moment. Even Ser Jorah isn't so obvious.

While she pondered on Lehmann's likely unintentional transparency, he answered her question at last. "Because of this." He reached for the weapon and picked it up quicker than Jorah could protest, the hefty contraption lightly banging when he put it down on the table

She knew what this was; knew what he was doing. Trust was a two-sided coin, and this was him showing his side of the piece. It was appreciated more than she let show. "What is it?"

He stood to his feet and patted the top of the weapon with a strange sort of affection, almost like one might have for a highly valuable sword. "This, specifically, is the M-two-four-nine Squad Automatic Weapon, or 'SAW' for short." Tube pointed to the right, the marine brought both hands to the side facing her, one reaching palm-up towards a sliver of metal jutting outward and the other laying flat over a rectangular opening. His open palm hand pulled back the sliver, emitting an odd metallic sound. The other hand, now holding a small object hidden beneath fingers, returned to his side of the weapon and did something to it before the first hand pushed the sliver back forward. Then, he lifted an entire portion of the top connected to the whole by hinges she only now noticed, revealing a hidden compartment of machinations the she had no understanding of. The only objects of familiarity were the arrowhead-like pieces of bronze laid inside and belted together. He removed the belt to the side, driving it into the underbelly box from which it came, and continued to perform a few more functions with the contraption before finally closing its top and detaching the box.

Daenerys watched the entire procedure closely with mounting wonderment, Jorah and even her children taking an interest as well, until he sat down again with one of the bronze pieces now in his hand. "But what is it, and what does it do exactly?"

"It's called a 'firearm,' or 'gun.'" He handed the piece to her, the Mother of Dragons inspecting it with much more attention than when Jorah had last shown her. "Think of it kinda like a really complex crossbow, only it shoots that instead of an arrow."

She briefly shared a look with the exiled Westerosi then. The aging knight had been correct in his assessment. "I don't see any string that could launch it. How does it shoot, and why something so small?"

Lehmann gestured to the bronze piece, respectfully requesting its return. He gave it a single thoughtful look-over in his hands before pocketing it. "With all due respect, I think it's your turn to start talking," he said matter-of-factly. "You finally tell me the whole shtick about this Westeros you're supposed to be queen of, and then I'll tell you more about me and my world."

The abrupt misdirection bothered her for the obvious reasons, but it also gave her a sudden cause for hesitation she had not expected. This had been her plan to build relations with him. Informing the man of her past, or at least only what was of value, had been the intention from the very beginning of the discussion. It was only fair then she did so after the respect he already provided. However, now that the time had come, the words died on her tongue and her lips seemed frozen shut. The prospect of recalling those memories filled her chest with a chilly anxiety. She knew it was irrational; the frightened girl that had been sold to a Dothraki Khal a year ago existed no longer. Yet...

If I look back, I am lost.

In need of small pleasantry, she glanced back to her children, the three having found their own entertainment in the wake of their mother's inattentiveness. She had not realized she'd ceased treating with them, though if Rhaegal's and Viserion's playful harassment of Drogon were any indication, they did not appear to mind. The black dragon's hissing showed his apparent irritation, but he allowed the antics of his brothers all the same. She watched as Rhaegal soon took an opportunity to jump onto Drogon and initiate a wrestling match between the two. Viserion, finding himself left out of the play, turned his serpentine neck and snout towards her. Her cream white child hopped on her shoulder before she could react, and Daenerys quickly found herself being comforted by the immense warmth of his small body wrapping around her upper arm and his head huddling beneath her chin. It was as if he knew of the need to soothe her inner turmoil.

"I supposed I should start my story where it all began," she eventually declared with a newfound stability, lips lightly curved into a small reassured smile. The Mother of Dragons would not be deterred by a weak ache in the heart. "With my ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror..."

—

She'd told him everything of importance. From the conquest of Westeros to the War of the Usurper; from the Tourney at Harrenhal to the Sack of King's Landing; from her marriage to Khal Drogo to the birth of her dragons. By the time Daenerys was finished, she was thankful their meals had arrived prior. She could not truthfully say whether she had ever in her life spoken at such lengths in the past, for the act left her throat slightly parched and yearning for refreshment. The wine helped in that regard. The constant presence of her children aided in other matters.

Lehmann to his credit had listened to it all in respectful silence, speaking out only once to voice his thanks and appreciation for the food. Other than briefly provide his high praises for the evening dishes, mentioning in passing something about a 'M-R-E' and a longtime lack of quality cuisine in his diet, he did not say another word thenceforth until her account had concluded. Even then, however, a contemplative quiet filled the room for a time afterwards.

"So, you're an incest baby?"

Of all he could say or ask, why was that the first thing to leave his stupid unfiltered mouth? What sort of train of thought led a person to jump to such a question in the wake of everything else she had told him? He might as well have slapped her for all it was worth, and woe how much she wanted to strangle him where he sat right then and there. "Is it so impossible for you to be amicable?" she snapped, teeth grinding. Her children seemed to detect the displeasure as well, all three dropping their activities to heatedly hiss at Lehmann with a clear absence of playfulness.

His open palms immediately shot up from under the table in surrender, expression turning to one of regretful remorse so pure and true it nearly caused her ire to fade away as quickly as it appeared. "I-I'm sorry. That was... real stupid of me to ask."

"Then why ask it?"

"I don't know. It was just the first thing I could think of." He shook his head with an exasperated sigh and dropped his hands back down to his lap with a loud smack. "You just gave me a whole medieval fantasy history lesson to take in and, well... I guess my mind went for the simplest thing about you it could come up with." Lehman chuckled humorlessly then, tapping the side of his head with his right index and middle fingers. "Can't say there aren't a few screws loose up there. Not after- yeah. Shit's fucky."

Daenerys noticed the hiccup, and she was sure he knew she did. Not after what? Though his face gave nothing away, his body stiffened as if in preparation for a less than desirable question. On the verge of asking just that, she hastily decided not to after seeing the reaction to his misstep. Instead, she spent the next few moments staring into his eyes. She swore the light of the table's candles reflected in his eyes more vividly than earlier. "I forgive your misjudgment," she said carefully.

Lehmann's relief was evident, his back easing a bit into the seat and the corners of his lips curving upwards for a fraction of a second. "Thank you."

She returned a simple nod before gesturing for Irri, who had returned from her own supper only a few minutes prior to them finishing their meals, to begin collecting their plates and silverware. As the handmaiden conducted her business, Daenerys uncovered the small platter that had been resting untouched on her side of the table. Within it were small morsels of raw lamb. Her children responded instantly, all three enthusiastic in anticipation.

In the corner of her eye she noticed Anthony lean forward in his seat. He watched as she placed three pieces on the balustrade, one for each dragon, and her lips lightly curved upwards at his keen interest. "Do you know how a dragon eats?" She hummed, then her smile grew. "Of course not, how could you? See, a dragon is flame made flesh, the very embodiment of fire itself. And fire consumes in the only way it knows how." She turned back to him, and violet met brown. "Dracarys."

Chapter End

A/N: Oh, and I know this is childish af, but... fuck D&D, and fuck nihilism.