Destiny of Embers

As the aftermath of the gruesome scene faded, the feast resumed with a subdued yet tense atmosphere. Itachi, as calm and composed as ever, returned to his food. He chewed thoughtfully, his dark eyes flicking occasionally toward Daenerys, who had settled back beside Drogo, her demeanor as icy as her earlier declaration.

Jorah approached Itachi, standing beside him with a weary expression. "That was… disturbing," Jorah admitted, his voice low.

Itachi barely spared him a glance, his tone as neutral as his expression. "Disturbing? I've witnessed far worse. This is nothing."

Jorah's brows furrowed slightly as he studied Itachi. This man speaks as though death is a common occurrence to him. What kind of life has he led?

Unfazed by Jorah's scrutiny, Itachi continued, his voice calm but with an edge of observation. "He was bound to die. Weakness, arrogance, and reliance on a sword he couldn't wield properly—those are not the traits of a king. His death was inevitable."

Jorah nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth in Itachi's words. "You're not wrong. He wasn't fit to rule, but his ambitions blinded him to that."

Itachi paused, setting down his food as his sharp gaze shifted to Jorah. "One question. He spoke of taking a throne. Whose throne?"

Jorah hesitated before answering. "Not a khal's throne, no. He sought the Iron Throne, the seat of power over the Seven Kingdoms."

Itachi tilted his head slightly, processing the unfamiliar term. "Seven Kingdoms?" he repeated, his tone even but curious.

Jorah looked at him, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. "You've never heard of them?"

Itachi shook his head. "No. I come from a very distant place. The names and lands here are unknown to me."

With a nod of understanding, Jorah explained, "The Seven Kingdoms is a realm that spans most of the continent of Westeros. It's ruled from King's Landing, where the Iron Throne is housed. Though the name suggests seven kingdoms, there are actually nine distinct regions, added after the Targaryen conquest. Despite this, all are subject to the Iron Throne's rule."

Itachi's gaze drifted momentarily toward Daenerys before returning to Jorah. "So, by lineage, she is the rightful heir to this throne?"

Jorah's face grew solemn as he nodded. "Yes. But that throne is now held by the Baratheons. They usurped her family, the Targaryens."

"Conquered bloodlines," Itachi murmured, his tone carrying a tinge of understanding. He leaned back slightly, his thoughts churning beneath his stoic façade. A family overthrown but still clinging to power. War must run deep in their history. She hides it well, but Daenerys carries the weight of her heritage with quiet resilience.

Breaking the silence, Itachi asked, "What of the other regions or cities you spoke of? Are they unified, or do they remain divided?"

Jorah launched into a detailed explanation, recounting the histories of Westeros's most prominent houses. "The Kingdom of the North, ruled by House Stark of Winterfell; the Kingdom of the Mountain and the Vale, ruled by House Arryn of the Eyrie; the Iron Islands, ruled by House Greyjoy of Pyke; the Kingdom of the Rock, ruled by House Lannister of Casterly Rock; the Stormlands, ruled by House Baratheon of Storm's End; the Kingdom of the Reach, ruled by House Tyrell of Highgarden; and Dorne, ruled by House Martell of Sunspear."

As Jorah spoke, Itachi absorbed the information, his mind analyzing the dynamics of power in this unfamiliar world. A fractured realm, held together by the strength of one throne. But that unity seems fragile, with ambitions and rivalries threatening its stability.

Then Itachi's thoughts returned to what Viserys had said earlier. "Her brother mentioned dragons. What role do they play in her family's history?"

Jorah's eyes lit with a flicker of reverence. "Dragons are creatures of legend—massive, fire-breathing beasts. The Targaryens were the last dragonlords, and their mastery of these creatures is what allowed them to conquer Westeros. It's said dragons are immune to fire, a trait passed down to their riders. But the dragons are long dead now… or so it's believed."

Itachi's gaze shifted to Daenerys once more, lingering as he pieced together the fragments of the puzzle. If her bloodline is tied to creatures of such power, then her brother's arrogance wasn't entirely unfounded. But arrogance without strength is a death sentence.

Jorah observed Itachi's quiet contemplation and couldn't help but voice his own thoughts. "You see things clearly, don't you? Most people would be overwhelmed by all of this, but you…"

Itachi's lips curved into the faintest shadow of a smile, though his eyes remained distant. "I've lived through wars, betrayals, and more death than you can imagine. Clarity comes naturally when you've survived chaos."

Jorah nodded, a newfound respect growing within him. This man… he's not just a wanderer. He's something far more dangerous.

As Itachi finished his meal, he set his plate aside and wiped his hands calmly, his demeanor unwavering. He glanced at Jorah, his dark eyes sharp and calculating. "I know you have doubts about me," he stated bluntly, his tone calm but firm.

Jorah stiffened, his brows furrowing in surprise. "What makes you think that?" he asked, attempting to maintain his composure.

Itachi's gaze flicked toward Daenerys, then back to Jorah. "The exchange of glances between you and her. It wasn't subtle. You suspect I might be a spy or have some ulterior motive."

Jorah's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of astonishment crossing his face. He discerned all of that from a single glance?

Without waiting for a reply, Itachi continued, his voice unwavering. "I don't know the politics of this land, nor do I care for them. But let me make one thing clear—I have no intention of harming her or any of you. That being said…" He leaned in slightly, his gaze sharp enough to cut. "If anyone tries something foolish against me, it will only lead to their deaths. That's not a threat. It's a reality."

Jorah felt a chill run down his spine. There was no malice in Itachi's tone, yet the weight of his words carried a palpable intensity. His presence exuded an aura of control, a quiet storm that warned against provocation. This man… he's dangerous. Not in an obvious way, but in how he carries himself. His confidence isn't bravado—it's earned.

After a moment of tense silence, Jorah managed to nod. "Understood," he said, his voice careful.

Itachi gave a faint nod of acknowledgment before rising smoothly to his feet. Without another word, he turned and strode out of the tent.

Jorah watched him go, his mind racing. This man is more than he appears. He doesn't just survive—he thrives in chaos. I only hope his words hold true, and he truly means no harm to Daenerys.

From her seat, Daenerys observed Itachi's departure, her expression thoughtful. She hadn't missed the subtle warning in his words. Who are you, Itachi Uchiha? And why does your presence feel both reassuring and unsettling all at once?

Itachi stepped out of the tent, the cool night air brushing against his face. His dark eyes lifted to the towering mountains in the distance, their rugged peaks bathed in silver moonlight. Amidst the vastness of the terrain, his gaze settled on a high, still spot—a solitary rock perched at the edge of the cliff, overlooking the expanse of Vaes Dothrak.

Without a sound, he made his way there, moving as silently as a shadow. The world seemed to hold its breath as he walked, the distant sounds of the Dothraki camp fading into the background. Reaching the spot, he sat on the rock, his posture poised yet relaxed.

Above him stretched the endless night sky, adorned with countless stars twinkling like scattered jewels. The heavens seemed alive, a vibrant canvas of light and depth. Itachi's eyes softened as they roamed across the celestial expanse.

The air was crisp, carrying with it the faint scent of grass and earth, untainted by the chaos of war or conflict. The stillness around him was profound, broken only by the occasional rustle of the wind through the nearby foliage. It was a peace he rarely encountered—a fleeting reprieve from the weight of his past and the uncertainty of his present.

The stars here… he thought, his gaze unwavering. They shine so brightly, as if untouched by the darkness of this world. Do they remind me of something? Or someone?

For a moment, his mind wandered to memories long buried—of moonlit nights in Konoha, of laughter shared with his younger brother, Sasuke, beneath a similar sky. A faint pang tugged at his chest, but his expression remained stoic, the emotions hidden deep within.

The silence wrapped around him like a comforting cloak, allowing him to reflect, to breathe. Here, beneath the endless sky, Itachi felt a rare stillness in his soul—a quiet reminder that even amidst unfamiliar lands and uncertain futures, there was beauty in the simple, fleeting moments of peace.

The faint sounds of the Dothraki camp murmured below, but he was detached from it all—a silent observer in a land that was both foreign and oddly familiar in its struggles.

Inside the tent, Daenerys sat cross-legged on her bed, the soft glow of lanterns casting a warm, flickering light over her silver hair. She was deep in thought, her hands resting on her lap as she replayed her earlier conversation with Khal Drogo.

"The Seven Kingdoms are ours by right," she had told him, her voice steady with conviction. "With the strength of your khalasar and the ships from the Free Cities, we can take what belongs to House Targaryen. We can reclaim the Iron Throne."

Drogo's reply had been unwavering. "A man does not need an iron chair to be strong. A man needs only his horse." His tone was final, resolute.

Daenerys had felt the sting of frustration but held her tongue. She knew better than to push him further—tonight, at least. She had nodded in agreement, masking her disappointment, and retreated to her tent.

Now, lying back on the bed, she stared up at the curved ceiling, her mind racing. How do I convince him? she wondered. How do I make him see that the Seven Kingdoms are not just a dream, but a destiny?

Her thoughts inevitably drifted to Itachi. The stranger with the enigmatic gaze and an aura of calm authority. He had spoken little, but his presence was undeniable, like a silent storm that could erupt at any moment.

Is he a spy? she mused, her purple eyes narrowing slightly. Or could he be an ally? Someone sent by the gods, perhaps, to guide me? She exhaled deeply, the uncertainty gnawing at her.

Daenerys decided she would speak to Jorah in the morning. The knight had a way of seeing through people, and she trusted his judgment. If anyone could uncover Itachi's true intentions, it was Jorah.

For now, she would let the matter rest. Her eyes closed as she willed herself to sleep, but the image of the man sitting silently on the cliff lingered in her mind.

The morning sun bathed the Dothraki camp in golden light as Daenerys rose, her thoughts focused on a plan to both clear her doubts and make progress toward her goals. After preparing herself for the day, she summoned Ser Jorah Mormont and her handmaidens to her tent.

"I wish to visit the marketplace today," she announced, her tone calm yet resolute.

Jorah studied her for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly before he nodded. "As you command, Khaleesi."

Within moments, her small entourage was ready, and they began their journey to the bustling marketplace. As they walked, the din of traders calling out their wares and the chatter of people filled the air.

Daenerys turned to Jorah, her voice quieter now. "I need your help convincing my husband. The Seven Kingdoms are mine by birthright. But Drogo—he refuses to see it."

Jorah's expression was measured. "Khaleesi, you must understand—Drogo will only act if he believes it is possible. Your ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror, did not take six of the Seven Kingdoms because he demanded them. He took them because he could—with dragons at his side."

She absorbed his words, her brows drawing together in thought. "Dragons…" she murmured, her mind turning to the long-lost creatures that had once defined her house.

After a pause, she shifted the topic, her voice more curious. "What of Itachi Uchiha? What do you make of him?"

Jorah's response came after a moment's hesitation. "He is no threat to us, Khaleesi. I've spoken to him. He knows nothing of the Iron Throne, the Seven Kingdoms, or even King's Landing. He's not from our lands, of that I'm certain."

Daenerys blinked in surprise. "Nothing? How can that be?"

Jorah nodded. "It's the truth. He claims no knowledge of our politics or our lands."

Before she could respond, a calm voice cut through the conversation. "He's right," Itachi said, stepping into view.

Daenerys turned sharply, her eyes widening. Itachi stood there in simple yet exotic clothing, his dark eyes as unreadable as ever. The handmaidens stole glances at him, their fascination evident.

"No need to worry," Itachi continued, his gaze drifting to the marketplace ahead. "I have no interest in your politics or your throne."

Daenerys narrowed her eyes. "How am I supposed to believe that?"

Itachi's gaze shifted to her, unwavering. "If you don't, then don't. It's no concern of mine."

Daenerys was about to respond when a small bird arrived, delivering a message to Jorah. He read it quickly, his face darkening. It was a royal pardon for his crimes, sent by Varys.

"We'll discuss this later," Daenerys said curtly, her focus returning to the marketplace.