The current timeline now begins with the events of the Game of Thrones TV show.
Leo — Essos
Khal Drogo was a giant of a man, a warlord feared across the Dothraki Sea.
Leo respected him.
But respect did not matter.
Not when betrayal was inevitable.
Not when Daenerys needed to rise.
Not when the White Walkers were coming.
Drogo had ambition. Enough ambition to eventually challenge Leo for Daenerys' loyalty
Enough pride to one day become an obstacle rather than an ally.
And Leo Pendragon could only have one army—one commander—one Queen.
So the night came.
A silent moon.
A cold wind.
A single shadow walking into Drogo's camp.
The Battle The Dothraki Still Whisper About
Drogo rose the moment Leo stepped inside the ring of firelight.
"No man enters a khal's tent without permission," Drogo growled.
Leo stepped forward.
Metal arm gleaming.
Eyes calm.
"There will be only one leader of this khalasar," Leo said. "And it's not you."
Drogo grinned—then charged.
The fight was fast. Brutal.
Leo caught the arakh with his vibranium hand, shattered it, and drove his fist into Drogo's heart.
The khal died standing, eyes wide, as if unable to believe what had happened.
Silence fell.
A hundred riders watched.
Not one challenged Leo.
The New Queen
Daenerys walked forward, trembling—not in fear, but in shock.
The Dothraki knelt around her, one by one, whispering:
"Khaleesi."
"Mother of Mountains."
"Breaker of Fate."
Leo gave her a small nod.
"It's yours now. All of it."
She swallowed. "Drogo… he… I never thought—"
"He respected strength," Leo said. "You gave him honor. I gave you power."
And for the first time, Daenerys understood Leo was not just a guardian.
He was a force.
A deciding hand in the shaping of the world.
Daenerys and Leo — The Dragons
Later, away from the khalasar, she showed him the three dragon eggs.
Cradling them like precious jewels.
"Leo," she whispered, "you know how to hatch them. Don't you?"
He nodded.
"Yes. But understand something first."
He pointed at the eggs.
"Dragons are not kind. They do not love. They obey, or they destroy."
Daenerys frowned. "You think I will create monsters?"
"I think you can create weapons. But only if you command them, Daenerys. If they sense weakness, they burn everything—friend and foe."
"Then how do I make them obey?"
Leo inhaled. This was the moment.
"I wasn't born a Pendragon," he said quietly. "I took the name. But now… I am one."
She blinked. "What do you mean?"
"The Pendragons were an ancient Valyrian lineage—dragonlords who vanished before the Doom."
"It was said they rode the first red dragons."
"And the system gave me the bloodline. Once. Only once."
Daenerys stared at him as if seeing him for the first time.
"You… you're one of us," she whispered.
"Not Targaryen," Leo said. "Something older. Something forgotten."
She stepped closer, touching the metal arm, looking into his eyes.
"Will you help me train them?"
"I'll train you," he corrected. "The dragons will follow."
She smiled.
And it was the first time he allowed himself to feel something warm in this cold world.
Leo Says Goodbye
After weeks of training and planning, Leo finally said:
"I must return to Westeros."
Daenerys' expression hardened. "Already?"
"The King is arriving in the North. Ned Stark is about to become Hand. The political storm begins now."
She nodded.
"You'll come back," she said. Not a question—an order.
"When I return," Leo said, "we will hatch the dragons."
She smiled softly.
"And burn our enemies together."
Before leaving, Leo spoke privately with Ser Jorah Mormont.
The old knight watched him with suspicion and a hint of fear.
"You're no ordinary sellsword," Jorah muttered.
Leo shrugged. "Daenerys will need loyal men. You will be one of them."
"And you?" Jorah asked.
Leo smirked. "I'm something else."
Then he vanished—teleporting away in a burst of silver light.
Westeros — Jorah's POV
Jorah watched the air where Leo had stood.
"A Pendragon…" he whispered. "Impossible. That house died before the Doom."
But the man was real.
And the world was changing.
Winterfell — Robert Arrives
The King's column thundered toward the gates.
Ned Stark stood stiff and solemn, as always.
But his mind was somewhere else.
Jon Snow had told him everything:
The sword.
The dream training.
The shadow guardian.
The impossible metal arm.
And finally—
"His name is… Leo Pendragon."
Ned had nearly dropped his goblet.
Pendragon.
A dragon-surname older than Targaryen.
A lineage that vanished hundreds of years ago.
Robert dismounted heavily and slapped Ned on the shoulder.
But even he noticed something was wrong.
"You look like you've seen a bloody ghost, Ned."
Ned inhaled.
"It's the shadow," he said quietly. "The one who protects Jon."
Robert paused.
"The same shadow people talked about in the capital? The one who saves men and vanishes? A man who appears and disappears like a demon?"
Ned nodded.
Robert's eyes narrowed.
"What's his name?"
Ned hesitated before answering.
"Leo Pendragon."
Robert froze.
"…Pendragon?" he whispered. "That bloodline died before Valyria burned."
"Unless it didn't," Ned whispered.