A/N: A MAN LIVES~!

A MAN RETURNS FROM SURGERY~!

A MAN KEEPS HIS PROMISES TO THE FANS~!

Spoilers for Game of Thrones Season 1-8 ahead.

Ye have been warned.

Aaaaaaaaaand we've got a new troll harassing/flinging death threats at me. His name is D00mMarine4Ever. Would you Kindly report this jerk? Don't believe me? He just spammed most of my recently updated stories. See for yourself. I honestly don't know why he keeps spamming my stories with death threats and the like...

Been getting a lot of PM's begging me to update my older stuff now that Game of Thrones is coming to a close, so I've been working hard at it. Life, surgery, and a destroyed computer has kept me away for longer than I like. Not to mention a bad spate of injuries that I'd...rather not talk about. Still, Game of Thrones fever is catching, and even if I'm not fond of the direction the series is taking at the moment, I'm going to see it through to the bitter end, even dreading what's coming.

Here's a little interlude to grease the gears as such and get the train rolling again. Feel free to give the last chapter a look if you're lost.

Fair warning, this Naruto's...had a hard time. The House of the Undying is not a pleasant place to be, least of all for the unprepared. Daenerys only escaped through the love she felt for her children and sheer stubborn will. Anyone lacking such a will-anyone who lets their guard down even for a moment-is doomed to wander the halls forever. It only makes sense that anyone who emerged from that horrible place would be a bit unhinged, however brief.

As to whether this Naruto is from HIS world or Westeros...well. Do guess. Its always nice to hear from you!

Head to work now, see you all later tonight!

Sorry if its short~!

"You love her, don't you?"

...do I want to know how you knew that?"

"Sorry, it slipped out. Its what I do. Read people."

~?

Insight (Interlude)

Jorah Mormont considered himself a decent man.

Not bad.

Not good either.

Simply decent; that was all.

Oh, he'd made his share of mistakes in life to be sure. Many of them. More than most. Just as he'd been many things. A liar. A slaver. A spy. One bad decision had led another, another, and another still. An endless series of foolish choices, haunting his every step until he was finally forced to flee Westeros altogether or risk losing his head. Crossing the Narrow Sea was both the culmination of that life, but not the end. Fate spit on him. His wife left him. He found himself alone and penniless, an exile in a distant land with no future.

And then came Daenerys Targaryen.

Jorah had found her at his lowest moment, and in her, his redemption. What had begun as a simple task for the Spider was soon discarded utterly. For this mere slip of a girl-so often underestimated-had become so much more than her fool of a brother ever could, so much more indeed. She'd walked through fire and emerged unburnt. Brought three dragons back into the girl. To list anymore of her many deeds would be useless; they were already engraved in his heart. He knew not when he had come undone, only that he had. She was his life. His love. His everything. She stirred a heart thought long dead and in return, he'd given up everything for her.

Any hope of a return to Westeros surely lay through her now, but that was no longer his goal.

Now he longed to see Daenerys take her rightful place on the Iron Throne.

He would to whatever it took to see her on it.

Yes, Jorah Mormont was a decent man trying to right past wrongs, one determined to see the Mother of Dragons take what he believed she so richly deserved.

Which was why he found himself utterly flummoxed baffled upon her return from the House of the Undying. Not by her arrival itself, nor her dragons, but whom she brought with her. Qarth was a cruel place, full of lies and deceit, and after Xaro Xhoan Daxos's betrayal he was understandably loathe to trust any such resident. No matter how loyal they might appear the people of this city were not to be believed in any measure. Not the so-called "King of Qarth" nor the ghastly priests who had wrought all this mess. Certainly not some silent stranger.

Even if said stranger had locked Daxos and a certain traitorous handmaiden in the former's vault on Dany's direct order.

Clad in little more than rags, he might appear young, but those blue eyes and whiskered cheeks told a different story. They were old. Ancient. Hardened by time and torment alike. Thin and lanky, weak from going without food or water for gods-knew-how-long, he still cut an imposing figure amongst the Dothraki nevertheless. Yet he had not spoken. He knew the boy's name only because it had been given to him by Daenerys herself, but if he spoke their tongue, he wasn't keen on sharing-

"I can see why you follow her."

Jorah exhaled in a long-suffering sigh.

Of course the boy would choose to speak when he least expected it.

Sure enough, when took his gaze away from the last Targaryen and her dragons to risk a glance at his side he found him there, a lush apple clutched in his right hand. Strong teeth bit down as he looked on, three strong bites each cleaving a great chunk of red from the rich red fruit. For his part the young man seemed content to watch the looting and pillaging unfold and speak no further. Discontent with that, Jorah raised his voice in question, hoping to gain some insight on this rogue ruffian before him.

"Do you, now?"

"Yup." Naruto merely nodded between bites. "She's devoted to her children, inspires her people, helps those in need, and wreaks swift vengeance on anyone fool enough harm those she loves. Yet she's also tempered as well. Willing to listen to reason." Another bite. "Good qualities in a ruler. What's not to like?"

Those words plucked at his heart like a festering thorn. "And what is she to you?"

The wayward warrior shrugged and polished off the last of his hard-won meal before snatching up a loaf of bread.

"To me? Real. Alive. Responsible for my freedom." Slim, emaciated shoulders rose and fell in a careworn shrug beneath his stolen blue tunic. "If not for her, those blue-lipped bastards would still be tormenting me. But no, that's not your real question now, is it?" those keen orbs turned, blazing into him like smoldering dragonfire. "You're wondering if I'm loyal."

"Are you?" Jorah challenged.

"Don't be rude. Of course I am!" the young man sniffed in mild admonishment as he plucked the last of a roast from a nearby table and devoured it with all haste. "I don't blame you. You don't know me, and I don't know you. I'm little more than a stranger in your eyes. But your queen and her dragons saved me when others wouldn't and for that...well, what's the saying you people use? She has my sword. From this day until my last day. Even though I don't use a sword-

He paused suddenly, considering him anew.

"You care about her, don't you?"

The northman jolted violently, but didn't shout.

...do I want to know how you knew that?" he murmured through clenched teeth.

The young man looked at him for a long moment, considering, watching both him and his sword.

"Sorry about that," to his credit, the blond relanted and sighed sheepishly in recompense for this temerity, folding both arms behind his head. "Didn't mean to. Its what I do. Read people. I can't help it. Part of the reason the warlocks imprisoned me. That and my so-called gifts. Thought I could talk my way out when they took me." He turned his head and spat into a gilded cup. "Little good that did me, as you can see. By the time I thought to try and fight my way out it was already too late. I couldn't tell what was real anymore. They had me."

Despite his dislike for the boy, Jorah felt inclined to argue. "Some would call yours a useful talent-

"No."

The boy turned a dark look upon him, and for a moment those blue eyes blazed red.

"It really isn't, Jorah the Andal." his words emerged as a silken hiss. "Before? Maybe. Now? I can't turn it off. Count yourself lucky you can't see what I see. Pray that you never do." abruptly those glassy orbs turned back to what remained of Xaro's false fortune and the Dothraki sifting through it alike. "I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.

"Would you believe I wasn't always like this?" he asked into the sullen silence, his voice flaring in frustration. "I used to believe in people, you know? Wholeheartedly. Without reservation. Look where that got me. Thrown in that damn tower. I'd still be there if not for your queen. She gave me hope. So, like you, I'll fight for her. Until my last breath, such as it is. You and I have that in common, at least. Loyalty." To his mild consternation the whiskered warrior-was he a warrior?-extended his hand in friendship. His mouth even quirked in a smile, small though it was.

"What do you say, then?" he asked jovially. "Friends? For the sake of our glorious and terrifying queen?"

Jorah relented with a reluctant grunt and accepted the offered hand given him.

He didn't have to like this newcomer, but he would watch him...for now.

As if summoned by that very thought his queen came to them. When next he looked Naruto was long gone, happily hoisting up a platter of fruit for himself to gorge upon. Jorah stubbornly stifled a grimace at the sight of such gluttony. Well...he supposed he couldn't begrudge the blond his hunger. Who knew how long he'd spent in that ghastly place? Given his emaciated state he suspected it would take some time for the young man to regain his former strength, it

But his queen was speaking to him now, and the aging Mormont found his attention firmly claimed once more.

"Looks real enough to me." she hummed, raising a golden plate toward him. "Real enough to buy a ship?"

Jorah couldn't help but smile at the implied suggestion. "Aye, a small ship."

Pleased by his statement the Mother of Dragons graced him with a smile, turned on her heel, and departed back from whence she'd come. Like any loyal retainer he watched her go, stubbornly fighting down the twinge in his heart when she joined the very ruffian he'd been keeping his eye on. Those dull blue eyes lit up at the sight of her and the old bear forced himself to look away lest he overhear. Now was not the time for petty jealousy or misguided thoughts. He had a duty to attend to, one not served by attending to his baser needs. Time to attend to the task at hand.

Raising his arm, Jorah gave a mighty roared in fluent Dothraki:

In that moment, his expression was fearsome indeed.

"Take all the gold and jewels!"

A/N: I own no dialogue from season two or any affiliated materials. Yes, this was THAT scene at the end. The vault scene. It just felt...right to give Jorah his own interlude for once, told from his own perspective at that. What a fighter! Rest in peace you magnificent bastard, you went out like a champ and kept your queen safe. Might give the old bear an honorary story to honor his sacrifice. Never seen someone take that many hits and keep going...he lived up to the words of his house by that definition alone!

So...in the Immortal Words of Atlas...

...Review...Would You Kindly?

And enjoy the previews!

Potential ones!

(Preview(s)

...why is there a dragon on my head?"

His queen favored him with a small smile.

"It would appear he's grown rather fond of you."

"You've got quite the temper."

"If you're going to kill me, do get on with it." he clicked his tongue in mild admonishment. "I haven't got at all day."

"Rulers can be both hated or beloved by their people. That's your choice. Do you want to be queen of ashes, or queen of the seven kingdoms?

R&R~! =D