The sun rose up early the next day, a golden ball rising up from the ocean, bringing light to the humble coastal village that lay less than a day's walk from the mouth of the Blackwater Rush, one of the mightiest rivers that ran through Westeros.

The silence of the pre-sunrise had just given way to the sounds of songbirds making their early morning calls, when the stillness of the village was broken by a dark shape exiting the door of the largest hut.

Tom stretched and cracked his neck and other appendages in an attempt to get the kinks out after sleeping somewhat tensely the night before. Tom unconsciously blushed a bit when he remembered the cause of aforementioned tenseness. At some point in the night, Tom had been roused from his slumber by an interesting sensation. While it had felt pleasant for an instant, when his mind remembered where exactly he was, he'd snapped awake and found that Visenya, still asleep, had rolled over, wrapping her arms around the young man from behind and slowly running her hands along his sides and along his arms and chest.

For a while Tom was unsure as what to do, on the one hand this was an extremely attractive woman molesting him in his sleep. On the other hand, this woman was likely able to rip his throat out with her teeth if she so desired, and thusly he was terrified of her waking up with her hands somewhere less than respectable. For a short time he was unsure of what to do, his reptile mind and his human mind battling out for supremacy. Then her hands started to move south of what could be discussed in polite company and the debate was decided. He needed to get with the out of there before she woke up and turned him into a throw rug.

So, it was with agonizingly care that extricated himself from Visenya's embrace and from the two sizes too small bed with they'd been sharing. Deciding he was thirsty he then left the hut to get himself a mug of ale to quench his thirst. Normally he'd have gone for water, but the combination of Visenya's wandering hands and his own burning desire to avoid the threat of intestinal parasites won the he walked, looking to find someone to fetch him a mug of small beer, his mind thought back to the events of the past three days. Less than a week ago, Tom's only concern had been worrying about whether or not he could wake up on time to get to his classes.

"Now," he mused, "I have to worry about whether or not I'm going to have my head removed from the rest of me if I get in the way of some angry Cthulhu worshiping wannabe viking.

"He looked out to the ship, its sails, though tied down, had been repaired and it now only waited for the unfinished mast to be completed in order to be seaworthy once more. That led to Tom's next conundrum. He'd given his word to a dying man that he'd find and protect his sisters. He'd found one right off the bat and now he had a possible lead on the other. Unfortunately, that other lead was given by a man who was part of a raiding party he'd slaughtered, why would Bannon, the Ironborn raider in question, be so willing to aid him, let alone give an oath of fealty like he had. He knew the man claimed his uncle would kill him, but there had to be more to it. However, he let it go for the moment, as so far Bannon had proven to be both able and helpful, though a bit insubordinate.

Not that he stopped worrying as there was still much more to worry about. The day before he had sent a runner to the village's closest neighbor, coincidentally, the one that would have become King's Landing in another world, requesting aid in an attempt to rescue the kinswoman of a knight who'd saved them from an Ironborn attack.

Now the only question that remained was whether or not the villagers would aid them in their mad endeavor.

As he stood wondering whether or not they'd send men, he spotted Mya emerging from another of the houses, dressed though her eyes still seemed to be clouded with sleep. Tom was a bit unsure as how to respond to the young lady whom he'd shared a ...well mutual defloration would be one way to describe it. His considerations came to a swift end when the young woman spotted him across from the village.

When the young girl spotted Tom, all sleep vanished from her eyes, and with a warm smile spread across her face, she all but chirped, "Ser Tom!" She walked over to him, her pace quick and eager. When she stood before him, she continued, "Good morning, milord. Did you sleep well?"

Tom was a little surprised at the complete personality flip he'd seen from the day before, though he quickly assumed that she was far less aggressive when she wasn't half-drunk and dealing with the stress of having been kidnapped by an overly sarcastic Iron Born.

"Good morning, Mya. I'm alright," he replied, carefully not answering the question as to how well he slept. Grabby widows with daggers are not the best bedmates.

Mya looked at him for a moment, measuring his response, before asking, "Is there anyway I can serve you this morning, m'lord?"

Tom blushed as a couple ways that the attractive redhead could 'serve' his needs passed through his mind, but he threw those thoughts to the back of his mind and focused on his immediate concerns. "I could use a...", he fumbled for the proper words, "small beer, and something to eat. Is there any of that barbequed pork left?

"Mya nodded, "Right away milord." She then dashed away to return in only a few minutes with a terracotta jug and matching mug and a wooden plate laden a small loaf of bread, a hunk of cheese, a generous cut of roasted boar, and a lump of fresh butter to finish it off. Tom glanced over, and spotting a comfortable looking log, walked to it with Mya trailing close behind him. Once he'd reached it, he promptly sat down, and then, before claiming his meal, patted a section of the log next to him, inviting her to sit with him.

The girl blushed for a moment, before smiling warmly and gingerly taking a seat, her attention intently focused on her chosen lord. Tom returned her smile before turning his attention to the food before him.

After a moment's thought, a smile came to Tom's face and he drew his dagger. Carefully, he cut down the middle of the small loaf, he dividing it into two halves, attached to one another by only a small length of crust. Then he buttered both sides, and cut the piece of cheese into slices, which he carefully layered along one side of the bread. Finally, he placed the meat in between the two halves and carefully closed the bread over it.

Well pleased with the product of his efforts, Tom lifted his creation from the plate and took a generous bite. While the bread was somewhat grainy, the cheese somewhat hard, and it could use some salt, but the meat was tender juicy and the butter did much to alleviate the otherwise dryness of the bread. All in all, it was not something he would have ordered for himself had he still being on Earth, but it still presented an enjoyable bouquet of flavors none the less.

Mya looked on in confusion for a moment, and he could help but blush when he realized that while she was used to eating their meat and cheese laid upon bread, as he'd seen her eat before, the closed-faced sandwich was probably new idea.

"It's called a sandwich," he said before taking another bite.

"What an odd name," she said aloud.

Tom smiled. "It's named after the Earl of Sandwich, who if I remember the story right, was a notorious gambler who refused to put down his cards, even for a meal, so his servants stuffed his bread with his meat, cheese, and salad so he could eat with only one hand," he paused, "Obviously, the idea caught on and thus the sandwich was born!"

As if to prove the point, he took another generous bite, causing Mya to giggle.

"Was this Earl of Sandwich an illustrious ancestor? The liege lord or your house, perhaps?" Mya asked, only half serious.

Tom snorted. "No, nothing like that. He was simply a man of popular eating habits," he playfully replied, earning another giggle from the girl.

"Would you like to try it, Mya?" he asked, offering the sandwich to her.

She smiled. "Thank you. M'lord is too kind."

Gingerly, she accepted the meat and bread creation and took a bite. Chewing, she looked over it, thinking of the possibilities.

"I can see why it would catch on," she observed, "A man could place his a full meal together in the morning and eat it without having to pause his work. Or you could serve meat with gravy in it, without worry of getting it all over yourself."

Tom nodded. "Bingo."

She blinked in confusion. "Bingo?"

"I mean exactly," Tom replied, drawing away from the cultural reference, "That's why it became popular. The food of gambling lords became the meal of working men and soldiers, and a popular choice among street vendors. For example, if you want to try something very good, try a sausage on a bun with some chili and cheese, or maybe some mustard and some sauerkra..." Tom trailed off, realizing the german name would probably go right over her head, "Sour fermented cabbage"

Mya without pause, asked, "What's chili?"

Tom sighed. "It's a thick, spicy stew made from beans and beef. I doubt they have the spices needed in Westeros."

"Maybe they have them in Dorne," she observed. "Dorne is famed for its spicy foods."

Tom let that sink in for a moment. Yes. That would be something to look into. After all, living a lifetime without Buffalo Wings could hardly be called living.

"So, thinking of more exotic foods from your mysterious homeland, m'lord?" she asked, playfully.

Tom blushed. "Yeah. Hot Wings. Fried chicken wings slathered in Buffalo Sauce, a sauce made from a vinegar based chilli sauce mixed with butter. Very tasty."

Mya snorted. "No wonder you're so generous around the waist m'lord, if your people love strange foods so very much."

Tom shrugged in acquiescence. "Guilty as charged," After all, what could he say in response, he liked food and he hadn't really exerted himself enough to burn it off. "So where did you hear about Dornish spices?"

Mya snorted and rolled her eyes, "I live on the mouth of the Blackwater, and was raised by the village chief," she replied matter of factly. "One does not live along a major trading route without learning something of the outside world."

"I see," replied feeling a bit abashed. She might be a peasant girl but that didn't mean she'd automatically be ignorant. Not knowing what else to say, Tom remained silent. Back home, he hadn't spoken much with women, and frankly he felt he didn't any real talent to it. Her background made it even worse, it wasn't like he could ask her what she'd thought of last night's episode of Dexter! On the other hand, there was a simple pleasure that came with sitting in peaceful silence with a pretty girl while eating a satisfying meal.

Of course, all good things must come to an end.

"Well...Lord Husband, I was wondering where you had wandered off to."

The contented smile on Mya's face shifted to a stony glare so quickly, Tom nearly got whiplash watching it. He took a breath and turned to Visenya who was standing behind the two of them with an unreadable look on her face.

Tom then smiled and said, "Good Morning, Visenya. I hope you slept well."

"Well enough," she replied, "But this is the second time you've left your wife to wake up alone in her bed, to find you in the company of a servant girl."

Tom gritted his teeth behind closed lips then loosened his jaw to answer, "I'm sorry 'darling', but your wandering hands made it difficult to sleep. I needed some cold air."

Visenya flushed, her eyes widening somewhat, before narrowing them again, and answering, "It is only natural for a wife's hands to wander in the dark when her husband left her so well pleased."

Tom's eyebrows shot up and his guts lurched a bit. Alright Tom, he thought to himself, she got you good there. Time to think of something. And think he did. A smile came to his face, but he fought it down, instead replacing it with the stony look of a man who'd done far too much work for far too little benefit. "Well, dear wife, I am pleased one of us enjoyed it at least, for all I remember of last night was a great deal of shouting while you sat on the bed, unmoving."

The Lady of Dragonstone's mouth went agape for a moment. For a moment he expected another witty retort from his self-proclaimed 'wife' but much to his surprise, when her gaze met the hard displeasure so apparent in his own, she lowered her head in submission. "I apologize for interrupting your rest, m'lord."

Tom raised an eyebrow at that and dipped his head slightly, while he'd only known the woman for three days, he knew for a fact that such passive behavior so far outside the bounds of her personality that it was only marginally more likely than her spontaneously belting out the Soviet National Anthem, in Russian, for the honor of the proletariat and the glory of International Socialism. But that said, he wasn't stupid enough to look a gift horse in the mouth, and was just cruel enough to twist the knife a bit, so he simply grinned and said, "It's quite alright. It's endearing for a man to know that he has such a loyal, obedient wife."

Visenya's response was to flinch slightly but she did not raise her head to meet his challenge, a fact which Tom oddly found both smugly satisfying and somehow disappointing. It was as if he'd voiced a challenge and she'd backed down without even putting up a fight.

So, he thought, apparently there hadbeen some good that came of thatlast night. Tom had for a while laid awake wondered what the hell he had done to her and what the hell he was thinking when he snapped at her. Tom had always taken pride in the fact that he was a very laid back person and not losing his temper easily. But for some reason, he had gone ballistic on her for simply disbelieving the intelligence of a Skyrim dragon. He wasn't sure why he'd done it, but he had a feeling that the little part of his soul deep down that was more 'Dovah' than 'Kiin' had been offended.

He shook his head. That was a matter for another time. He had plenty else on his mind. Seeing Visenya's still subdued visage, he turned to Mya and asked, "Could you get something for Lady Visenya? I'm sure she's hungry as well."

Mya looked at the woman for a long moment then sighed slightly and nodded. "I'll make her a 'sandwich'," she said before leaving to gather the food.

Visenya blinked in confusion at the girl's statement, much to Tom's amusement. With Mya out of earshot, Tom turned back to Visenya and said, "Sit down, I want your help planning today's agenda. I've got a lot on my plate and some advice would be highly appreciated."

Visenya studied him for a moment, then sat down next to him. Tom grinned for a moment then continued, "Alright, first thing we need to check on is the ship. We were told yesterday that the women had finished the sails but we need to check on the mast. That's Bannon and Rolf's job there."

Visenya nodded, not really having anything else to say. "We also need to see to the arms of the villagers. It would do us no good if we try to attack the Ironborn camp if they're only armed with fishing spears, clubs, and wood axes."

"We have all that gear we gathered off the Ironborn. We can give it out to as many of our guys as we can. As for the rest. Well maybe we can comb the beaches a few more times and see if we can find anymore of the remains from...the fleet."

Visenya flinched for an instant but she managed to speak in an even tone, "That would be wise, the dead no longer have any need for their arms and armor now."

Tom nodded, "We also need to have the men start drilling for a couple of hours a day," he continued. "The men aren't trained soldiers, and there isn't a snowball's chance in hell of getting them to anything resembling proficient with the time we have, but at least we can at least make sure they know enough not to hurt themselves and hope that superior numbers and good moral can make up for it."

Visenya snorted. "More they'll bravely stand behind you while you shout your enemies to death, and then run down the frantic survivors as they flee in mortal terror."

Tom winced slightly, thinking of his last battle, before looking back to the house where the two of them had slept the night before, "That reminds me," he then turned back to Visenya, "Do you think we could have another training session today at some point?"

Visenya piqued her brows at him. "I'm surprised you would want another thrashing after the one I gave you yesterday."

Tom looked at her confused, "Why wouldn't I? You're better than me and if it can train me to use a sword then I don't really mind how much I get kicked around by you."

"Wait. You mean to say that you weren't even trained." She asked honestly confused.

Tom bowed his head slightly and averted his gaze for a moment, "To be brutally honest, no. I really have no clue what I'm doing with it."

She goggled at him a moment, but as she thought back to the previous she remembered that he's only used the sword once, instead using only his shouts to kill the Ironborn. At the time, she had thought that it was because he hadn't felt the need to sully blade with their blood, and she probably wouldn't have either if she'd been in the same position as him. But if he'd used only shouts because that was really his only means of doing battle... just who was this man? How could someone be so mind-numbly powerful yet so utterly helpless at the same time?

She was about to speak further when another villager came running up to them. "Begging your pardon, M'lord, m'lady, but some men from next village coming this way. I think they wish to see you, m'lord."

Tom nodded and turned back to the hut he'd slept in the night before. By his side of the bed he and Visenya had shared the night before, lay the Valerian steel sword he'd been given three days ago. He quickly picked it up and wrapped the scabbard's belt around his waist and rushed back out to the edge of the village.

On the way there he came across Visenya who had been in the middle of following him towards the hut. He stopped for a moment then, offering his arm, he asked, "Would you like to accompany me while I meet with the newcomers?"

She looked at his proffered arm for a moment before she nodded and took the arm. The two of them then walked out of the village to the men who stood patiently waiting.

The men from the next village over proved to number three, one was a man about his own age, black hair and brown eyes, but was about two inches shorter and much leaner than Tom's more heavy-set frame. Of the other two one was a man who could easily have been the previous' father. The third surprised Tom a bit, as he noticed a wooden medallion around his neck painted in seven colors just like a color wheel. So, he thought, this is a Septon. I didn't think that there would be a permanent one in villages this small. He must be a wandering septon, he mused, one of the holy men who wandered around offering holy services to the villages too small for a sept of their own. He grinned as he recalled another fragment of information from the books and wiki, lord was he glad he was such a fanboy of that series.

The three men looked up as one to the young man and the lovely young woman who walked with her arm entwined with his. They took in his strange clothing and the sword at the belt. There was a momentary silence, then the older villager spoke up, "Good Morning Ser, if I was told right, you were the one who sent Dontos to our village?"

Tom nodded then said, "Yes, I'm the one. I am Ser Tom Brody the Dovahkiin." Lord he hoped that didn't sound as foolish as he felt saying it. "I sent a man a day ago asking if you would help me and your neighbors to destroy an Ironborn camp."

The three men started for a second, then the older man again spoke up, "Beggin your pardon m'lord... But you said attack an Ironborn camp?"

"Yes. They have my wife's sister hostage." Tom gestured to Visenya who nodded demurely at the trio while they bowed in turn. "I intend to free her and give the Ironborn a pounding they'll never forget." Tom placed his hand on the pommel of the sword, as if to imply what he intended to do when he found them.

The three looked at each other and then their appointed leader answered for them. "I don't want to be rude m'lord, but are you sure you want us? We're just fishermen. We have no swords nor armor. What good will we be?"

Tom smirked, he'd thought on this for a while and had a response in place. "First off, numbers, the camp I'm planning to attack only has around fifty men, and if we're lucky even less, with your help we'll be able to match them man for man. Second, you won't be going in with nets, fishing spears and woodaxes, not all of you at least. When I first came here a few days ago I drove off an Ironborn raiding party and all of their gears was left behind. Enough for about thirty men to be properly armed for this fight. Third and most important of all. I'll be leading the charge, so long as I here it wouldn't matter if there were five hundred Ironborn in that camp."

When Tom saw the incredulous looks on their faces, he couldn't help but smirk again, "Oh you're doubting me? Let me show you something." Tom led the three men to a large tree that had died years ago but was still standing, a huge solid trunk that would take a massive amount of labor using axes and saws to clear.

Tom stood about 10 paces from it. Then he took a deep breath and bellowed at the top of his lungs, "FUS RO DAH!"

The three men leaped when a blue ball of energy shot out of Tom's mouth and slammed into the tree, ripping it from the ground, shattering the rotten wood into a thousand shards and sending those shards flying forward in a plume of splinters.

Then he turned to another log, this one having fallen over years ago. He took another breath and roared again, "YOL TOOR SHUUL!" This time a jet of dragon fire blasted from his mouth, consuming the log in a white hot inferno.

Against the light and heat of the flame, none of the men noticed Visenya staring at Tom's show of power, her face slightly flushed and her mouth open a hair.

Turning back to the dumbfounded men, Tom spoke again. "So, about that help..."

The Septon, having kept silent for the most part, flicked his gaze between the inferno and the man who was the source of said inferno, "...gods...By the Seven, who...what are you?" He managed to gasp out, fingering his amulet the entire time.

Visenya stepped forward and with a small smile on her face answered, "He already told you. He is Dovahkiin. Dragonborn."

The three were dead silent, then the youngest of their party, the obvious son of the older man, smiled and stepped forward, "If you can shoot fire like that when we set sail, then you have my help."

Tom smiled and nodded, "Thank you." He then turned to the older two men and asked, "Well how about you?"

The older man then asked, "How many Ironborn did you kill before?"

"At least twenty." He replied.

The man, instead of scoffing at the high number, simply nodded, looking back over to the pyre still burning. "If you can do that again the next time you fight the Ironborn, then you have our help."

The Septon nodded as well, "This endeavour is blessed by the gods and has my support."