Tom walked into the dimly lit hall, and squinted his eyes. The light from torches cast a foreboding glow across the dimly lit room. While they were enough to see by, to one spoiled by a life of bright, electric lighting, it felt it like an issue of 'only just'. He couldn't help but frown. Yet another reminder of the things he'd lost. Things like running water, proper sanitation, and a competent and reasonably honest central government founded on the ideal that human life actually had some kind of intrinsic importance and value.

He sighed. Though for the moment, he'd settle for some extra light.

Blinking his eyes to help adapt to the darkness, Tom moved through the hall heading towards the door, that he hoped would lead to the living quarters. As he walked, he glanced to the side and saw a small number of men and women, more of the latter than the former, hugging close to the outer walls of the hall, trying their best to be unnoticeable. Obviously some sort of survival trait, he reflected with a frown.

Slowing for a moment, he looked over them. All were dressed reasonably well. Not richly by any means, but well enough not to be an embarrassment to the lord of the hall. He noted that each had a wooden collar around their necks, driftwood if he wanted to hazard a guess. "Always driftwood with them." He muttered wryly under his breath. Iron was not to be wasted on slaves

Looking more carefully, he studied them, even as they shrank away from his lingering gaze. The men all looked beaten and downtrodden. The women wore dresses of a distinctly abbreviated nature, that he found himself unable to ignore.

Their tops were loose, showing full cleavage and baring their shoulders, obviously kept from falling only by a single bow nestled between the mounds of their breast. Their skirts were short by westerosi standards, ending just below the knee, and slit down one side, showing a shock of leg. For a moment, one probably longer than he really should have allowed, he studied them, considering their state of dress. Then his frown deepened with realization. Yes, the dresses were sexy, but that was obviously a secondary objective. Rather designed to allow for 'easy access' without the threat of a randy, drunken ironborn damaging the goods while trying to reach the creamy center.

He gritted his teeth. Slaves came cheap in these parts, but semi-respectable clothing was a valuable commodity.

His eyes narrowed to slits as he noticed the condition an especially skittish, rosy cheeked blonde girl in the back. It caused Tom to feel both a sensation of festering self-loathing and seething rage, for just moments ago, he'd been stupidly ogling her impressive bosom, completely inconsiderate of her physical condition. Now that his eyes had adjusted he could see the dark spot about her left eye, the split in her lower lip, and the black bruises along her upper arms and throat. The poor girl looked like she'd been beaten half to death.

Barbarians, he thought to himself as he sneered, his heart filled with disgust. Fucking barbarians.

Seeing the look on his face, and his attention directed at her, the girl recoiled in obvious fear. This shook away Tom's anger, leaving only his shame, which he quickly twisted in his mind to something infinitely more productive. Purpose.

"Girl," he said in a calm, level voice he hoped was nonthreatening, "Come here and stand before me."

The blonde girl visibly paled and pointed to herself, "M-me m'lord?" she asked, her voice but a squeak, like a frightened mouse who had earned the full attention of the local cat.

Tom slowly nodded. "Yes, you."

She slowly stood up and walked, or rather limped, towards him, tense but not resistant in the slightest, her head down to avert her gaze.

Once she was before him, she stood up straight as her injuries would allow, chin up, her posture perfect for display. You'd almost think she was standing at attention if it wasn't for her eyes, which were shut to prevent her accidentally making eye contact with her master, or any other 'respectable' individual who'd seek to make use of her. In her condition though, all it did was underscore how bad she really looked.

"No," Tom said gently, laying his hand softly on her shoulder. "None of that. Open your eyes."

She lowered her head and did as he bid. "Yes... m'lord."

Slowly, Tom reached out with a single finger and lifted her chin bringing her eyes up to meet his own. Pretty eyes, he couldn't help but observe. Soft, warm brown eyes, eyes filled with so much fear, sadness, and suffering. It made him hate this god forsaken world even more. He could only hope burned the fucker who did this to her.

"Don't be afraid," Tom said smiling sadly. "Come now, what is your name?"

"A-ana, m'mlord."

"Ana, I am not going to hurt you," he said in the most reassuring tone possible, "But I need you to do something for me."

"I understand, m'lord..."

Slowly her hand rose to the tie that bound her top, only to be caught by Tom's. She looked at him with confusion, to which he firmly replied, "No, Not that. Just hold your head straight and hold your hair out of the way. Alright"

"M'lord?" she asked, not so much confused as completely dumbfounded. After all, he was still dressed like an Ironman, but here he was treating her as something other than a self-propelled sex aid.

"I need to look at your collar," he clarified.

She gulped slightly as a big of fear ran through her, and did as he bid. Obviously she was afraid that he might somehow find her collar lacking and blame her for it.

Tom sighed and gentle fingered it, looking it over it. It was just as he thought, driftwood, smooth and pale, bleached by the sun and carved into a two joined half circles that were joined to one another with pegs, and driven into each of those pegs was a small iron wedge. There was obviously no way to remove them without cutting them off.

A small smile came to his face. Though there was something else he could try. After all, if something was closed, all he needed was for it to...

"BEX!"

Open.

The wedges shot free out with an audible ping, while the pegs simply popped out like a cork from a champagne bottle. As for the collar itself, the two halves flew across half the room before hitting the ground, skidding to a halt against the walls.

Ana stood there, confused and disbelieving as he had moved to her neck. The skin was red and sore, irritated from the collar. Slowly she rubbed her throat and looked at him. He couldn't help but smile as a he saw a new emotion run through her eyes. Hope.

"M'mlord... my collar...," she said hesitantly, unwilling to believe quite yet.

"You won't be needing it anymore. You're free, Ana."

"I'm free?"

Tom nodded and looked towards the others and took a deep breath.

"BEX!"

A wave of energy shot from his mouth, washing over the huddled mass of men and women. Their collars shot off just as Ana's had.

"You're all free," he paused but before he could react Ana knelt before him. Well, maybe knelt wasn't strong enough a world. More like prostrated "M'lord," she said, "I..."

Oh come on, I don't have time for this shit, Tom thought to himself before coming up with something a bit more diplomatic to say. "Ana, Please. Not right now. Whatever it is, it will have to wait. I came in here for a reason, and I have to finish. Just tell me later. Alright?"

"Of course. Whatever m'lord commands," she replied as she slowly, and painfully started to rise to her feet, her battered body not enjoying the movement.

Tom winced in sympathy and much to Ana's shock, and the shock of all of the other former slaves, knelt down next to her and slowly, gently helped her back to her feet.

"Easy now," he said in a kindly voice. "You're hurt and I won't have you making things worse on my account." he paused for a moment and smiled. "In fact..."

Tom smiled as he had an idea. While it would be a massive waste of energy, and probably somewhat risky, to use the powerful healing thu'um that had some an... interesting effect on Visenya, he could try something here. He hadn't had a moment to spare when he created that Thu'um. Here he could afford a second. For a moment he focused on the idea of health, of physical well being, of healing, and what it really meant to be whole. Then smiled as a word came to him, one steeped in understanding of the primal concept of Health.

"HAAS!"

A wave of green energy swept over the girl, and clung to her for a moment, almost like green fire. She startled for a moment, but then marveled as her bruises faded from view, and as any injuries burned away leaving only smooth, untouched skin.

She stood there, dumbfounded, lost in her shock, unable to react as Tom left her, continuing on through the door. Behind it was a simple set of steps that lead to the tower.

It was one the next level that Tom spotted Mya's bright red hair bobbing around through a doorway at the far end of the hall. Without hesitation, he he walked towards the bed that Mya was hovering over, but stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted a flash of silver-blonde hair from the bed.

A bundle of emotions rose in his chest, excitement and elation at finding what was obviously the other Targaryen sister. Fear and apprehension at her condition after what he'd heard from Bannon and other Ironborn.

As he entered the room, he was able to get a good look at the person laying on the bed being administered by Mya; the sight made his heart hammer in his chest. Laying on the bed, in a most sorry of states, was Rhaenys Targaryen, lady of Dragonstone and the youngest child of the late Aerion Targaryen, former lord of Dragonstone.

Her breath was swift and shallow, interrupted only by the occasional incomprehensible delusional muttering. Her long, silver hair, which he could only imagine was normally as lovely as her sister's, was wild and soaking with sweat. Her violet eyes were bloodshot and glazed over looking blankly into space, while her skin was somehow a fevered red and sickly pale at the same time. All in all, she looked like death.

Tom quickly moved next to Mya, who only glanced up for a moment to see who it was before turning back to Rhaenys. With a purposeful grimace, she ground powders together before dumping them into cup of water, with the intent of pouring down the ill woman's throat. To Tom's consternation she seemed to cough more of it up then she swallowed, and even that bit she did seemed to do little to help.

Finally breaking the silence, he coughed and asked, "How is she?"

"She has a terrible fever, the worst I've ever seen," she said matter of factly, "I've seen grown men as strong as oxen be stricken down by fevers half as bad as this, the fact she's still alive is nothing short of a miracle."

Mya never looked to Tom as she told him the diagnosis.

"Is there anything you can do?" Tom asked, apprehension tinting his voice.

Mya was silent before she finally shook her head, " No m'lord. I've never seen anyone recover from a fever like this in my life, and I doubt even a Maester could help her now. I believe that all we can do now is make her comfortable as we can and send someone for the Septon.

Tom nodded then hearing the sound of footsteps behind him, he turned behind him to see a shock of blonde hair duck behind the door frame.

"Oh for the love of...," Tom muttered under his breath, "Ana, what are you..."

Tom paused and then smiled. Wait. He could use this. "Ana, step out there I can see you."

'Ana' Mya mouthed, a sour look on her face, while the blonde girl, much prettier now that she wasn't covered in bruises, stepped into sight. "Y-yes, m'lord?" she asked, frightfully.

"Who's the fastest runner here?" He asked.

"W-what?" she blinked in confusion, shrinking away slightly.

"Look," he said with a sigh, "I'm not angry with you, but right now I need to know is who's the fastest runner you've got. I need to send a message."

"Yohn," she said after a moment of thought. "Yohn is fastest."

"Good," Tom said in a tone that brooked no argument. "Fetch him as quickly as you can."

She nodded and bolted from the room as if The Others themselves were riding the hem of her skirt.

Once she was gone, Mya looked up to Tom and scowled. "So, who's Ana?"

"She was injured," Tom replied. "I removed her collar and then healed her."

Mya facepalmed.

"What? All I did was free her..."

Mya looked up. "Did you pay her any special attention?"

"Well, she was injured, so like I said, I healed her..." he paused, "And I had to look at someones collar to figure them out."

Again, Mya facepalmed, muttering something under her breath. From what little Tom was able to hear, she was saying something about 'heroic' 'idiot' 'men'.

Tom blinked, a bit lost as to the cause of Mya's reaction. "What?"

"M'lord?"

Tom turned about to see Ana standing in the doorway with a young man of slight stature, probably barely into his teens, and filled with what looked to be abundant nervous energy. "You summoned me m'lord?"

"Alright, I need you to go find a lady with silver hair to come here. Tell her that the Dovahkiin needs her in the hall." When he saw the look of confusion at his title he sighed, "Just tell her that Tom needs her at the hall, she'll know who you're talking about. Also, if you are able to find the Septon we brought with us putzing about out there, fetch him as well. We might need him."

Seeming to understand the young man bowed his head. A grim look of determination came across his features. Remaining only to say, "Your will be done, m'lord," he dashed from the room as quickly as his legs could carry him. Tom had to admit, boy was pretty damned fast.

Turning back to Mya he said, "Is there anything else that could be of any help?"

Mya looked for at him for a moment, "I need a bowl of the coolest water you can find as well as several rags. It will cool her down a little bit."

Tom nodded, and after giving the room a quick glance, realized he knew exactly where none of them were. Thankfully though, he knew someone who did. "Ana," he said, trying his damnedest not to look at the busty blonde's bust, "I'm going to need your help. If you would fetch the things that Mya asked for, I'd be very thankful."

Ana blinked at the pleasantry added at the end of his request but recovered quickly bowing saying, "Of course m'lord." She scampered off to complete her task, her wide hips swaying with every step making her rear move in such a special way.

Tom shook his head. He really needed to get that girl dressed in something that would be considered acceptable outside of a brothel, if only for his own sanity's sake.

Moments later Ana returned with the basin and the rags, Mya took them from her without comment, and quickly soaked them in the water. Then, after ringing them out, started wiping the woman's forehead in an attempt to make the young Targaryen woman as comfortable as possible. Tom doubted that this venture would do any real good, but not being anything close to a expert or even an educated layperson in this particular field, he bowed to Mya's expertise and continued with the work.

A few minutes later Tom heard the thundering of footsteps up the stairs and a moment later, Visenya burst into the room with the Septon right behind her, his pudgy face lobster read from the exertion, looking like he had been dragged the entire way up here.

Visenya's eyes scanned the room in an instant then honed in on the prone form of her sister, she was by her sister's side in an instant, all but throwing Mya to the side in the process.

She took her sister's limp hand into her own and began trying to get her attention, "Rinnie, it's me! It's Vissy! I'm here, little sister! Please wake up! I'm sorry we got lost but I'm here now. "

Rhaenys didn't respond, she just continued gasping and occasionally muttering.

Her eyes widened frantically and started to gently shake her shoulders. "Rinni! Wake up! Please! Please wake up!"

Shooting her a glare, Mya pulled her away. "There's nothing we can do, and if you keep this up, all you're going to do is kill her faster."

"You little wench!" Visenya growled, knocking Mya's hands away from her, "Don't you dare there me there's nothing we can do, I... I..."

She snapped her head to look at Tom, who'd been ignored up to this point, the look in her eyes silencing anything he had been about to say, "You saved me. Can you save her?" Her voice held none of the normal power and authority that it normally had, all Tom could see was a scared woman, desperate not to lose her little sister after having already lost her brother/husband.

Tom was silent for a moment, then nodded, "I can at least try."

He then strode over and knelt by the sick woman's side. He took a deep breath then focusing on the words that had saved Visenya he bellowed at the top of his voice, "LAAS ZII FUS!"

The same gold shockwave of energy that had saved Visenya days before enveloped the young lady of Dragonstone. There was silence a split second, then with a deep, choking gasp, Rhaenys shot up from the bed, her eyes wide open though staring at nothing. Turning over she leaned over the side of the bed, gasping desperately for air and hacking herself raw.

Mya grimaced and slid the bowl under her mouth as she spit up massive globules of phlegm. Thick, pussy, rotten smelling phlegm that was a stomach wrenching shade of green, with vile brown chunks in it. The fact that it was coming from a human body made him fight to keep his lunch.

As her lungs cleared, Rhaenys's breathing became deeper and less labored. Tom could only watch as the women fought to clear her airway, while Mya stood back, her job being done. Ana's attention seemed to be locked on Tom, her eyes shining with wonder, while the Septon seemed to have broken into spontaneous prayer, thanking the seven for the miracle that he'd just been blessed to observed. As for Visenya though seemed totally unpaused, and instead simply began to slap her sister on the back in an attempt her help her clear the foulness from her lungs.

As the labored hacking faded to a simple counting, Rhaenys glanced up and looked at her sister. While tired from the labor of clearing her lungs, she looked infinitely better than the decaying figure she'd been moments before. While her skin was still a bit red, it was from exertion and not sickness. Her eyes had also cleared, becoming weary and tired, but alert, rather than the glazed over, bloodshot orbs they'd been moments before.

"Visenya," she said before going into a short coughing fit, "Where am I?"

"In a formerly Ironborn held camp. We have just taken the camp after we learned where you were." Visenya answered.

"We...?" Rhaenys managed to ask.

Visenya gestured to Tom who walked up to the young lady's side, "This is Tom Brodie, a knight that found me washed up on the beach near the mouth of the Blackwater Rush. He nursed me back to health then after we stopped an Ironborn attack, he gathered a rescue party to find and free you. We owe him our lives."

Rhaenys turned her head to look at Tom, her eyes seemed to scan him for a few moments before she smirked slightly, "You look more like a baker than a knight but if you did all that my sister said you did, then you are true knight in my eyes and you have my gratitude."

Visenya smirked. "I'd call him a baker of sorts, though I wouldn't say its bread that he introduces to the fires."

Rhaenys stared at her sister for a moment, "Is that a joke I heard from you sweet sister? Truly this is a day of miracles."

"Oh, it is no joke, just a witty observation."

"Truly sister? Than this must be a rare man indeed." Rhaenys's gaze became more appraising of the young man and he had the vague feeling he was being measured for something that he wasn't exactly looking forward to.

"Sister, don't. He may look like a fat peasant, but understand I make no joke when I say he's quite possibly the most dangerous being either of us has ever encountered." Visenya answered her voice taking a tone of reprimention.

Tom gave her a look of askance, "'Fat peasant' you are so kind to the savior of you and your sister." Sarcasm all but dripped from his voice.

"Feel blessed that I hold you in esteem high enough to speak the naked truth." She replied in what seemed both jesting and deadly serious at the same time.

Rhaenys then suddenly changed the subject when she interrupted their banter, "Neither of you mentioned Aegon, is he here? Or have you not found him yet?" Apprehension now tinting her voice.

Visenya visibly shrank at the question and Tom looked away, unable to make eye contact with the prone young lady.

That apprehension started to turn to panic, "Where is he? Where's Aegon, what has happened to him?"

"While he was able to save me... Aegon... he was beyond saving, even with his power." she closed her eyes, unable to go on.

Rhaenys's eyes widened in horror, her voice completely gone, then tears formed at the corner of her eyes and she began to cry, she covered her face with her hands and wept like a lost child. Visenya reached out and embraced her sister, letting her head rest against her breast for comfort. Tom stood there, unsure as how to respond.

"I know, little sister." Visenya whispered as her own pain once again welled to the surface.

Tom stood there for a while, then turning to Mya and Ana he nudged his head towards the door and went out, the other two following behind him letting the sisters have a moment alone.

Noting that the Septon hadn't moved from his kneeling position, nor had he stopped praying, going to the holy man's side he cleared his throat then asked, "C'mon, I think we need to give these two a moment alone."

"But..."

"If you lost your sibling wouldn't you want a moment of privacy? Besides there are plenty outside that need your help." Cutting the sputtering holy man off.

He paused and sighed. "I apologize. It is not everyday one sees a miracle."

As they walked out, a thought came to Tom's mind he turned to look at the Septon, " "Wait. Where were you when I was killing the Ironborn."

"Seeking shelter in the boat, sire. I am a man of the cloth, not of swords."

Shrugging his shoulders, Tom replied, "Fair enough."

As the group walked out of the hall Tom spotted Bannon across the courtyard, "Bannon!" He called out, "We found her! She's in a rough state right now but she'll live."

"Oh, happy day," Bannon remarked in an almost girlish voice. "Now m'lord, I'd be most thankful it you would leave me to my work. We need to be out by sunset unless you wish you spend the night. Bah. You'd almost think that these peasants have never looted a settlement before." He scoffed, "A proper ironborn crew would have their winds in their faces, and a fire at their backs by now."

"A fire at their backs?"

"Rape, Pillage, then Burn. My father always said you have to get the order right."

Tom shook his head at that little comment, but he thought on it for a while, Bannon was right if these were Ironborn they'd have already been out of there but they weren't. "No, we'll stay the night, we gotta rest then we'll head out early, I'll make sure we get out quick enough but the men need time to rest."

Bannon frowned. "Then if I may be so bold, make a plan in case of visitors. It's not unheard of for ships to arrive soon after dawn."

Tom looked over to the bay, thinking hard. "Have some of the former slaves watch the water, if they spot anything have them call it in then we'll make sure to bug out as quick as possible. Throw everything onto the ships and row out. I can take care of any ships that get close enough to be a threat."

He turned back to Bannon, "You go help them get ready to move out at a moment's notice."

"I doubt such is possible. This crew simply isn't used to working in haste," he replied, "Still, I'll try."

"That's all I can ask."

Bannon nodded. "I don't suppose you'll allow motivational floggings?"

Tom gave Bannon one of the most withering looks he'd ever given anyone. "What do you think?"

Bannon shot him an all too oily smile. "I think it was worth a try."

Tom rolled his eyes. "I think you need to get back to work. If you need me, I'll be getting something to eat."