Rhaenyra stood up immediately, her heart racing. "What could have caused such a thing? An attack?" She thought for a moment, her tactical mind already working. "Organize an escort now. I'll see to it personally."
"Mother, let me go with you!" Jace stepped forward, his hand already on the hilt of the dagger, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of fear and duty.
Rhaenyra hesitated for a second. She looked at the heir and then at the younger ones. At Dragonstone, with Syrax and the other dragons on alert, she felt they would be safe. "Alright, Jace. You're coming with me."
She then turned to the younger ones, who were watching the scene with wide eyes. "Lucerys, Joffrey... you stay here. Go to the library, Maester Gerardys should already be waiting for your lesson. Now!"
Even reluctantly, the children obeyed. Rhaenyra and Jace hurried off. As they crossed the villages near the castle, the chaos was evident. The population of Dragonstone was in the streets, some kneeling, others pointing to the sky. "It's a premonition!" cried a woman.
In the distance, a column of thick, black smoke rose from the site of the explosion. When they finally reached the edge of the crater, Rhaenyra and Jace stopped, dumbfounded. The hole in the earth was immense, its edges still smoking, and the ground seemed to have been instantly cooked.
"Princess, keep your distance!" ordered the captain of the guard, drawing his sword as he cautiously approached the descending smoke.
Rhaenyra and Jace watched from above, the tension palpable. The guard descended slowly down the dirt slope. In the center of the destruction, he stopped. He didn't draw his weapon to attack; instead, his posture shifted to one of utter disbelief.
He looked at Rhaenyra, her face pale beneath her helmet. "Princess... you won't believe it," he exclaimed, gesturing toward the bottom of the crater. "It's not a rock. It's a man... and he appears to be badly wounded."
Rhaenyra heard the guard's words, but her mind struggled to process them. A man? Falling from the sky like a meteor and surviving an impact that created a crater that size?
"A man?" she repeated, her voice thick with skepticism. "That's impossible."
"How could someone fall from the clouds and not turn to dust, Mom?" Jace asked, frowning as he tried to see through the settling dust.
Rhaenyra didn't wait for theoretical answers. She began to descend the crater slope, feeling the warmth of the ground beneath her boots.
"Princess, step back!" warned the guard, extending his arm. "It could be a trick, or something dangerous."
Rhaenyra gave a short smile, a glint of Targaryen courage in her eyes. "That's precisely why I brought you, Captain. To protect me if he rises."
Upon reaching the bottom, she stopped. There, lying among broken stones, was the stranger. Rhaenyra leaned slightly to observe him. He was badly injured, his face smeared with blood and soot, but as she examined his features, she couldn't help but notice the man's unusual beauty. He had angular, noble features and perfect symmetry. The women of the kingdom, especially the frivolous ladies of the South, would line up just to see him pass by, she thought, feeling a strange curiosity awaken within her.
His clothes were also a mystery: fabrics of a weave she had never seen, now torn and charred, revealing a strong, pale arm.
A little further on, something gleamed in the sunlight, half-buried in the churned-up earth. Jace walked over and bent down to retrieve the object. It was Sasuke's sword.
When he held it, Jace was shocked. It wasn't a knight's rifle, nor a broadsword from Westeros. It was a chokuto—straight, slender, and deadly elegant. "Mother, look at this!" Jace exclaimed, approaching and handing her the weapon. "It's incredibly light... it feels like it weighs nothing in your hands."
Rhaenyra grasped the sword by the hilt, feeling the perfect balance of the piece. The guard approached, examining the metal. "I've never seen steel like this, Princess. It's not ordinary steel, nor does it resemble the wavy pattern of Valyrian steel. It's smooth, cold, and absurdly sharp."
"It must belong to him," Rhaenyra commented, handing the weapon back to Jace and looking again at the unconscious man.
She remained silent for a few seconds, weighing the risks. That man was an enigma who could be a blessing or a curse, but she wouldn't let him die there on earth.
"Bring a stretcher. Now!" she ordered firmly.
The captain of the guard hesitated, looking at the stranger suspiciously. "Princess, bringing a stranger of this magnitude into the castle, where your young children are..."
"He's wounded and unconscious, Captain," Rhaenyra interrupted, her tone indicating she wouldn't accept an argument. "We'll take him to Maester Gerardys. If the gods sent him to Dragonstone, I want to know why."
Jace couldn't take his eyes off that blade. The metal gleamed with a silvery glow that seemed to absorb the sunlight, something that not even the best forges in King's Landing could replicate.
"Mom... can I keep the sword until he wakes up?" Jace asked, testing the weapon's weight again. "I've never seen anything like it in my whole life. It's... fascinating."
Rhaenyra looked at her son and then at the man being placed on the stretcher. Part of her thought it inappropriate; in Westeros, a man's sword is his honor. But, considering they were saving the stranger's life and offering him the roof of Dragonstone, she thought keeping the weapon in the heir's custody would be a fair form of precaution and study.
"Alright, Jace. But handle it carefully. We don't know what kind of magic or steel that is," she agreed, before turning to the guards. "Quick! To the castle!"
What no one there noticed, beneath the torn clothes and dirt-stained skin, was that Sasuke Uchiha's body was already working. Although he was in a state of profound exhaustion, his cells—strengthened by Uchiha blood and the Sage's chakra—were beginning a slow regeneration process. He had already survived blows from gods and dimensional explosions; a fall, however high, would not be his end.
Upon arriving at the fortress, commotion filled the corridors. Maester Gerardys was hastily summoned and, upon entering the guest room, stopped in his tracks, shocked to see the Queen and the young prince beside a man in such a state.
"By the Seven... Princess, what is this? The guards said he fell from the sky!" Gerardys approached, his hands trembling as he examined the wounds. "How could anyone survive such an impact? His bones should be crushed, but... he just looks... exhausted."
While the Maester began tending to the wound, cleaning the blood and applying balms, Jace left the room to find his brother, Lucerys.
Luke was leaving his class when he saw Jace walking with a long object wrapped in a cloth.
"Jace! What happened? We heard the noise all the way to the library!" exclaimed Luke, curious.
Jace looked around to make sure they were alone and revealed the chokuto. "Look at this, Luke. It fell from the sky with the stranger."
Lucerys's eyes widened. He reached out to touch the cold metal. "It's so thin... it looks like it's going to break, but at the same time it seems stronger than our master-at-arms' steel. Where did this man come from, Jace?"
"I don't know," Jace replied, looking at the door of the room where the stranger lay. "But he doesn't look like anyone from the Seven Kingdoms or Essos."
The guest room at Dragonstone was filled with the scent of medicinal herbs and the warm steam from the water the maids used to cleanse the stranger's body. While Maester Gerardys prepared an ointment, the two young maids exchanged glances and whispers, clearly impressed.
"I've never seen anyone like this in Westeros," one of them murmured, carefully wiping Sasuke's shoulder with the sponge. "His features are so fine... he looks like he's been sculpted from marble."
"If he hadn't fallen from the sky, I'd say he's a prince of Essos," the other replied, her face slightly flushed.
Gerardys chuckled softly, stirring his mortar. "Careful, girls. If beauty were the criterion for sainthood, this man would be an angel. But focus on the work, or Princess Rhaenyra will..."
The Maester did not finish the sentence.
Suddenly, the body on the bed stiffened. Sasuke's eyes snapped open. For a second, they were unfocused, but soon they became blades of cold obsidian. Disoriented, he felt the weight of his injuries, but his survival instinct prevailed.
He sat up on the bed with inhuman speed, causing the maids to recoil with muffled cries. Sasuke looked around, his eyes narrowed, analyzing every inch of the stone room, the candles, and the three figures present there.
An invisible, icy pressure began to emanate from him—a murderous intent so dense that the air seemed to grow heavier, causing Maester Gerardys to lose his breath and his hands to tremble violently.
"Where... am I?" Sasuke asked, his voice hoarse, each word coming out slowly, like a latent threat.
Gerardys swallowed hard, trying to maintain his professional composure. "Calm down, sir... You're in a safe place. You're on Dragonstone, the seat of House Targaryen."
Sasuke frowned. Dragonstone? House Targaryen? The names made no sense. In that instant, memories of the fight against Momoshiki and Kinshiki came rushing back: the dimensional rift, the interference of the enemy Rinnegan, and the collapsing portal.
"Damn it..." he cursed softly in his native tongue, closing his left eye in a sharp pain.
He tried to access his inner reservoir, but felt only an echo. His chakra was almost drained, and the wound caused by Kinshiki's technique still throbbed beneath the bandages. He was vulnerable, in an unfamiliar place, and surrounded by people he had never seen before.
"Who owns this place?" Sasuke demanded, ignoring his pain and focusing his penetrating gaze on the Maester.
Gerardys' eyes widened as he adjusted the chain around his neck. "The owner? You're in the castle of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne! How could you not know about the House of the Dragon?"
Sasuke simply stared at him indifferently, unimpressed by titles that meant nothing to him.
Maester Gerardys, noticing the stranger's agitation, took a cautious step back.
"Sir, please don't strain yourself. Your injuries are serious, and the impact you suffered would have killed any other man." The Maester tried to keep his voice steady, though the pressure emanating from Sasuke made him want to back down. "I will summon Princess Rhaenyra immediately, but first... could you tell me your name?"
Sasuke fixed his gaze on the man before him. Gerardys felt a chill run down his spine under the scrutiny of those dark eyes, so deep they seemed to read his soul.
— Sasuke... Sasuke Uchiha — he replied, dryly and directly.
— Sasuke... Uchiha? — Gerardys repeated, finding the sound of the words strange, as they didn't seem to belong to any language of Westeros or the Free Cities. — It's an unusual name. Rest, Lord Sasuke. The maids will take care of any need you may have.
The Maester gestured for the maids to remain and hurried away. Sasuke turned his attention to the two women, who remained huddled near the wall. The silence in the room was heavy, until the younger one, driven by curiosity greater than fear, ventured a question in a trembling voice:
— So... Sir Sasuke... do you have a wife back home?
Sasuke glanced out the window, where the sky over Dragon Stone was beginning to darken. "Hm," was the only response he gave, the guttural, indifferent sound he usually used to end conversations.
Meanwhile, in the Great Hall of the Painted Table, the Maester found Rhaenyra watching the ships on the horizon.
"Princess! He's awake!" announced Gerardys, still catching his breath.
Rhaenyra turned abruptly, surprise clearly visible on her face. "Already? But you yourself said he seemed to have his internal organs crushed. How is that possible?"
— I don't know how to explain it, ma'am. His vitality is... unnatural. He's already sitting down and demanding answers.
"Did he say who he is?" she asked, approaching him.
He identified himself as Sasuke Uchiha.
Rhaenyra paused for a moment, processing the sound of the name. "Sasuke... Uchiha..." She tested the name on her lips, feeling the exotic weight of those syllables. "A strange name for a man who falls from the sky. Let's see if this 'Ser Sasuke' is as dangerous as the Maester seems to believe."
....
Rhaenyra walked through the stone corridors with firm steps, the sound of her boots echoing as Maester Gerardys tried to keep pace. When the doors to the room opened, she stopped abruptly.
Sasuke was no longer in bed. He was standing, dressed in simple linen clothes that the Maester had provided, but even in those humble garments, he looked like a sovereign. He turned to her, his dark eyes analyzing her from head to toe without any sign of reverence.
"So you're the princess of this place?" he asked, his voice dry and devoid of any formality.
The Queen's guards turned red with rage. "Watch your words, stranger!" one of them snarled. "You stand before the heir to the Iron Throne!"
Rhaenyra felt a pang of irritation, but her curiosity got the better of her. "That's quite rude for someone who fell from the sky and had their life saved by me, Ser Sasuke."
Sasuke frowned. "Sor?" He wondered why they kept using that strange title before his name, but he didn't bother to ask.
"You look like a knight," Rhaenyra continued, crossing her arms. "Especially wielding such a uniquely crafted sword."
Sasuke's eyes narrowed instantly. The air in the room seemed to cool several degrees. "Where's my sword?" the question came out as a command.
Sasuke's eyes narrowed instantly. The air in the room seemed to cool several degrees. "Where's my sword?" the question came out as a command.
I would like my sword. Now.
One of the guards, a burly man who was already losing his patience, stepped forward, reaching for the hilt of his own sword. "You don't demand anything here! Learn some manners before I teach you..."
Sasuke didn't move. He simply stared at the guard. In the blink of an eye, he unleashed all of his Killing Intent (Sakki), focusing it exclusively on the soldier.
For the guard, the world vanished. He no longer saw the room; he saw an abyss of blood and the image of his own death repeating itself a thousand times in a second. The soldier froze, sweat streaming down his pale face. His legs gave way, he began to tremble uncontrollably, and a muffled sob escaped his throat before he collapsed to the floor, unconscious from sheer terror.
The silence that followed was absolute. The maids screamed, and Maester Gerardys recoiled in horror. Rhaenyra felt a chill run down her spine that had nothing to do with the atmosphere of Dragonstone. She had watched her best soldier be defeated without the stranger even lifting a finger.
"What have you done?" Rhaenyra demanded, her voice trembling between fear and regal authority. "What kind of dark sorcery was that? Speak now!"