The finish chapter to this story is under the name The Stark

This will be where I will post my rough drafts. I have a learning disability but I have ideas for stories and enjoy sharing my ideas so please be patient with my mistakes. I use a text to voice app so I can listen to what I have written. Which will help me fix errors and I can delete and add more content.

SO SPOILER ALERT

CH 14 draft

In the nine years before the Greyjoy Rebellion I embarked on a mission that would forever reshape the realm. I set out to gather the most skilled crafters from every corner of the land. Metalworkers, woodworkers, masons, leatherworkers, weavers - their talents knew no bounds, and I craved their expertise like a hungry wolf.

It was a move, one that some deemed unnecessary or extravagant. But I saw the potential, the untapped well of talent waiting to be unleashed. By nurturing these budding craftsmen and women, we would ensure a legacy that transcended our own lifetimes.

But it was not enough to merely recruit these master crafters, I knew that our success would depend on the passing down of their knowledge to future generations. So, I poured my resources into providing monetary assistance that would incentivize them to take on apprentices. I had built an entire section connecting to Wintertown and built massive halls split for different vocations.

I spared no expense in creating an environment that would foster excellence in craftsmanship. The halls echoed with the sounds of hammers striking metal, saws cutting through wood, and hands skillfully weaving intricate patterns. The air was filled with the scent of freshly cut timber, heated metal, and the earthiness of leather.

Master craftsmen from far and wide flocked to our city, drawn by the promise of prosperity. They were given the means to not only practice their art but also to teach and inspire the next generation.

In these hallowed halls knowledge was shared and skills were honed. Young apprentices eagerly absorbed every nugget of wisdom, every stroke of a chisel, and every thread woven with precision.

The skills passed down from masters to apprentices became more refined, more innovative. Our craftsmen were not content with simply replicating the works of their mentors. They pushed boundaries, experimenting with new techniques

Day after day, year after year, the clinking of hammers, the whirring of looms, and the scent of fresh wood shavings filled the air. The crafters, inspired by both the support they received and the promise of a brighter future, poured their hearts and souls into their work. And in turn, their apprentices soaked up every ounce of wisdom like sponges, eager to carry the torch forward.

The fruits of our labor began to bear witness. Masterpieces emerged from these workshops, each more exquisite than the last. Armor that gleamed like the sun, intricate carvings that brought life to wood, sturdy fortifications that stood as a testament to our determination - all born from the hands of these talented individuals and their dedicated apprentices.

000

One of the things that I did was revolutionize animal husbandry By introducing and selectively breeding various resilient sheep breeds I transformed the northern regions into havens of sturdy livestock. Witnessing the potential, I fearlessly expanded our herds, ensuring a prosperous future for our people.

But my ambitions did not stop there. Recognizing the demand for fur clothing I sourced and brought in diverse animal species from distant lands. These creatures were carefully chosen for their lush and exquisite fur providing us with a rich variety of materials for our skilled artisans to craft into stunning garments.

000

While trading with distant places, one of the things that I was ecstatic to discover was hemp. Let me tell you why this incredible plant revolutionized our textile industry. Hemp is not only a game-changer but also one of the fastest growing crops in the world . Within a mere four to 12 weeks, hemp can reach its full growth potential. Meanwhile, cotton requires a staggering amount of time to complete its growth cycle, because it takes around 21 to 25 weeks for cotton to reach its peak. Can you imagine the difference in productivity? Hemp swoops in, empowering us with an abundance of material, allowing our textile industry to flourish with lightning speed. Hemp is the ultimate champion of efficiency and progress in the world of crops.

Hemp fabric is a game-changer in the world of textiles. Its durability and longevity surpass that of cotton, making it the superior choice for those seeking quality and longevity in their fabrics, hemp fabric can withstand the test of time, lasting up to a whopping 30 years on average.

But it's not just about durability. Hemp fabric is also incredibly resistant to temperature changes and humidity, making it a reliable choice for various climates. It won't lose its shape or integrity even after repeated washes.

They possess a high tensile strength, allowing them to withstand the rigors of everyday use without tearing or fraying. This makes hemp fabric an excellent option for upholstery, as it can be pulled taut and remain taut for the entire lifespan of the furniture.

But the wonders of hemp don't stop there. This versatile plant can also be used as a natural insulation material.

Despite not being as initially soft as cotton, they prove their unrivaled superiority by transforming into a luxurious embrace with every wear and wash. Each time you don a hemp garment, it becomes softer, more supple, and downright heavenly against your skin.

Hemp fiber fabrics fearlessly defy the forces of nature, retaining their incredible strength even when soaked to the core. Unlike other wimpy fabrics that surrender to the elements, hemp stands tall, resolute, and unbowed. It scoffs at the mere thought of degradation, for it knows its place as the durable champion of the textile world.

000

I rewarded my grandfather with the ultimate gift, a gift that resonates with his very soul and ignites a fire within his being. For my grandfather, a man who exudes a deep love and admiration for horses and the art of horse breeding, I fulfill his wildest dreams.

Across the vast lands of Essos, I sought out the finest horse herds, those that embodied the epitome of power and grace. I brought these majestic creatures back to the realm of Westeros, bestowing them upon my grandfather

Under the guidance of my grandfather and his heir, Uncle Roger, a new era of horse breeding was born. Their wisdom and passion intertwine, as they meticulously interbreed various horse breeds, creating a breed that stands unrivaled in its strength and agility. These horses, born from their expertise and dedication, embody beauty and prowess.

Hours upon hours are spent in the company of these magnificent beings, as my grandfather and Uncle Roger revel in their newfound purpose. Every moment is devoted to understanding their needs, nurturing their potential, and unlocking the hidden depths of their abilities. Together, they form a harmonious bond with their equine companions.

As I presented the variety of breeds of horses to my grandfather, I witnessed the transformation of my grandfather, his eyes sparkled with a renewed sense of purpose. The passion that burns within him is a beacon of inspiration, a testament to the power of pursuing one's true calling and in turn, has enriched the lives of all who witness the splendor of his creations.

000

In this reality, I am the ingenious inventor of the revolutionary Stark's process! In my previous life, it was once known as the Bessemer process. Now, it is my brilliance that has brought forth this incredible advancement in the world of metallurgy.

Using the powerful combination of science and magical runes, I have revolutionized the refining of steel in unimaginable ways. Gone are the days of agonizingly long reactions between slag and metal in the conventional open-hearth furnace. My innovation is a method that defies the limits of time and efficiency.

With the infusion of magic and the precision of scientific knowledge, I introduced the concept of blowing oxygen through a lance into a pear-shaped vessel. The results? Nothing short of extraordinary. In a jaw-dropping display of mastery, 200 tons of steel can now be produced in a mere 60 minutes. Yes, you read that correctly - minutes, not hours.

Skeptics were silenced, their skepticism shattered by the undeniable evidence of progress before their very eyes. But I didn't stop there. Oh no, I pushed the boundaries of what was deemed possible even further. The charges of a basic oxygen furnace have now grown to an astonishing 400 tons, doubling the previous capacity. And the blowing times? Reduced to a mere 15 to 20 minutes, a fraction of what it used to be.

The era of feeble materials is over! Steel, the mighty conqueror, has arrived to reign supreme in every facet of our lives. Its strength knows no bounds, its endurance unmatched. From the battlefield to the workshop, from the fields to the factories, steel now dominates.

Gone are the days of fragile armor, susceptible to the piercing blows of our adversaries. With the power of steel, our stark warriors stand impenetrable, encased in a formidable fortress of metal. No longer shall they fear the enemy's blades, for their steel daggers and swords shall strike with a force that cannot be denied. And let us not forget their shields, reinforced with steel, providing an impenetrable barrier against any foe.

But it doesn't end there, my friends. Our farmers, once toiling with feeble tools, now wield the strength of steel in their hands. The plows cut through the earth with unparalleled ease, the soil parting like butter under its mighty force. The leather makers and weavers, masters of their crafts, now harness the sharpness of steel scissors and implements, shaping their materials with precision and speed. Even the carpenters and masons, the builders of our world, elevate their creations with the sturdiness of steel, constructing structures that defy the limits of time.

And let us not forget the revolution in transportation! With the introduction of steel, our carts and wagons become mighty chariots of progress. The wheels turn effortlessly, the frames stand firm.

0000

Doran Martell, understands the profound reasons that compelled his ancestors to align themselves with the Seven Kingdoms. For more then a century, Dorne had witnessed the gradual disappearance of freshwater sources and the shrinking of arable land. This dire predicament had been one of the key reasons why his ancestors chose to join the Seven Kingdoms. They sought the promise of shared resources, the hope of abundant crops. they recognized the encroaching peril that loomed on their horizon.

In the last century and a half more and more wells started to dry and the desert slowly encroached on the limited arable land in Dorne. This stark reality, brimming with the harsh truth of survival was one of the things that has shackled Doran's hands from rebelling against the Iron Throne.

Doran Martell, the Prince of Dorne, sat regally in the tranquil water garden, his eyes fixed on the rippling surface of the pond. His thoughts were consumed by the recent events that had unfolded in the realm, events that had caused chaos and destruction for others, but had left Dorne untouched. And in his heart, he couldn't help but feel a wave of amusement wash over him.

The Ironborn rebellion, a tempest that had rocked the shores of the Seven Kingdoms.

As the news of the Ironborn's failed conquest reached Doran's ears, he couldn't help but allow a smile to creep across his face, his eyes burning with a fire. The Lannisters, those arrogant lions who had long believed themselves invincible, had suffered a devastating blow. Their precious fleet, a symbol of their dominance, had been reduced to ashes, scattered across the waves. The flames had consumed not only their warships but also part of their own city, Lannisport.

Doran Martell scowled deeply as he contemplated the Starks. Prince Leon Stark, the man for whom he begrudgingly held a modicum of gratitude, for he was the one responsible for returning his beloved sister. Yet, within the depths of his heart, there simmered a residue of resentment towards all those entangled in the rebellion. Although, of course, he conceded that Leon Stark, perhaps, bore the least amount of fault in this tangled web of treachery, as he merely sought to exact vengeance for the murders of his grandfather and father.

Then his mind shifted towards Lyanna. That Stark bitch. Remembering the arguments he had with Elia. Doran Martell seethed with anger, his blood boiling at the audacity of her request. How could she even dare to ask him, the Prince of Dorne, to support Rhaegar's bastard child? The very idea was an insult to their family. How could she expect him to entertain the notion of supporting a child that was conceived in betrayal and deceit?

Taking a deep breath, Doran attempted to calm himself, but the fury within him continued to burn like wildfire. He couldn't comprehend Elia's reasoning, her willingness to support the very woman who had ignited the flames of this war. A war that had cost her more than anyone else, a war that had robbed her of her beloved children.

Doran Martell took a deep sip of Dorneish Red, savoring the rich flavor as it filled his mouth. The wine's crimson hue mirrored his simmering anger, but he knew he had to keep a cool head. Taking his mind off the argument he had with Elia, Doran turned his mind to the recent events.

Doran Martell finds enjoyment with Arryn's twisted narrative of the event. It is clear to those who possess a modicum of insight that Robert Baratheon did not achieve a resounding victory over the Greyjoys, as Arryn would have us believe. No, the reality is far more compelling and rooted in the fear that Balon Greyjoy harbored towards Leon Stark. Arryn's attempt with the notion that Balon surrendered, because he was afraid that the Baratheon's forces would easily crush the Greyjoys is nothing more than a fallacy.

It is common knowledge that Balon Greyjoy, that arrogant ruler of the Iron Islands, trembled at the mere thought of Leon Stark's wrath. Balon Greyjoy's surrender was not a triumph for Robert Baratheon, but a mere ploy to evade the wrath of a Stark wolf that loomed over them like an impending storm

The Starks, with their grand Canal, have become nothing but a concern and a distraction to Doran. The impact of this colossal project is already being felt, as evidenced by the dwindling number of vessels that used to grace his ports in the past year alone. What truly concerns Doran is the fact that this Canal was secretly built without even a whisper of its construction reaching his ears until it was finished

Doran, believes himself a master of secrets, but knows he could not even keep such a project hidden. He is left baffled by the loyalty of the Northerners. How could they keep such a massive construction hidden. Not even a whisper of this project was heard about.

0000

Sybelle Stark, born in the year 277, was an unparalleled master in the realms of runes and languages. Her extraordinary abilities in understanding the intricate art of rune arrays far surpassed anything I had ever witnessed. With a fervent fascination for flight and a burning desire to harness the powers of magic to achieve it, Sybelle soared above all others in her expertise.

Not only was she an unrivaled expert in runes, but Sybelle also dedicated her time to imparting her wisdom upon my younger siblings, guiding them in the delicate art of carving their own runes. Her vast knowledge transcended mere linguistics and delved into the profound depths of alchemy. Yet, even with her extensive understanding of this mystical discipline, her heart always yearned for the world of runes.

000

Maisie Stark, born in the year 278, possessed an unparalleled passion for potions and alchemy. While I may hesitate to label her as a master, her proficiency in these arts far exceeded her tender age. Unlike her elder sister, Maisie did not share the same fervor for runes, yet she still wielded them with remarkable skill. However, it was in her bibliophilic nature that Maisie truly thrived. The library became her sanctuary, and she reveled in the written word, both reading and writing with unwavering zeal.

Maisie possessed an insatiable thirst for knowledge that burned brighter than a thousand suns. When she discovered that I had not perused the entirety of the books I had procured during Robert's Rebellion, her eyes gleamed with an intense determination. Without hesitation, she demanded to be shown to them, and what ensued was a wondrous spectacle of intellectual fervor.

Months passed like fleeting moments as Maisie immersed herself in the pages of those ancient tomes. And when I returned triumphant from the treacherous Iron Islands, bearing a bounty of intellectual treasures, Maisie's face erupted into a radiant smile that could have illuminated the darkest corners of the world. Her joy was palpable, a testament to her voracious appetite for learning and the profound satisfaction she derived from expanding our family library.

000

Ros Stark, born in the year 279, was unlike the others. While the rest of us possessed the extraordinary gift of magic, she was devoid of such abilities. Instead, she was a girl who reveled in the joy of dresses and sewing, an unabashed girly girl captivated by tales of knights and princesses. Her demeanor was gentle, her voice soft-spoken, and her heart brimming with happiness.

But did she find solace in the practice of healing, one might wonder? It was during her younger years, when she experienced a fall, that one of the esteemed Aya came to her aid, mending her wounded skin with their magical touch. The encounter left Ros entranced, her fascination with the art of healing ablaze. While she may not have attained mastery over the healing arts, her passion for aiding others burned fervently. Her lack of magical prowess did not deter her; instead, it fueled her yearning to make a difference in the lives of those around her.

Ros Stark, the embodiment of grace and compassion, defied the expectations. She wove threads of kindness and stitched together the wounded hearts of those in need.

000

Olly Stark, born in the year 280, was the sibling that caused me the most trouble. Out of all my brothers and sisters, he possessed an exceptional talent for warging. With my guidance, I managed to help him harness his ability to control animals. However, Olly was nothing short of a scoundrel. He was constantly involved in fights with other children and had an insatiable restlessness during his lessons.

What truly irked me about Olly was his refusal to learn conventional fighting. Whenever he engaged in a traditional brawl, he would inevitably end up on the losing side. Though I was happy that he learned to employ underhanded tactics, relying on ambushes and cheap shots. His wild spirit knew no bounds as he continuously caused chaos wherever he went. Despite all this, no one could deny the profound love he held for our mother.

Even though Olly was not her biological son, it's true that Olly had a special place in my mother's heart. While my other siblings were not treated any less, it was evident that there was a unique connection between Olly and her. Perhaps it was his striking resemblance to my father, both in looks and in personality.

Olly would often push the boundaries, testing the limits of what was acceptable. Yet, my mother's love for him remained unwavering. She would scold him, yes, but there was always an underlying tenderness in her voice. It was as if she understood that beneath his mischief, there was a genuine zest for life.

000

Jacks Stark, born in the year 280, is the epitome of a true Stark. Quiet and observant he is the youngest of my siblings, following in the footsteps of our sister, Sybelle. Sybelle, in her nurturing nature, practically raised Jacks until I discovered them and brought them to Winterfell.

A beacon of tranquility, Jacks was always found either by Sybelle's side or in the company of our sister Ros eagerly absorbing every ounce of knowledge about the art of healing. He possessed an innate sense of discipline and never caused any trouble. Yet, what truly sets him apart is his unwavering concern for others. While he may excel in the art of rune carving, his true passion lies in the realm of healing and plants.

Jacks finds solace amidst the vibrant flora that adorn the earth. With the Herb Hunters, a league of seasoned experts, he delves into the secrets of plants, unearthing the profound wisdom hidden within their delicate petals and sturdy stems. The air is thick with expectancy as he diligently learns the art of nurturing and caring for these botanical wonders, his hands deftly maneuvering through the intricacies of their existence

Jacks possesses a remarkable ability to bring people together, even in the midst of heated arguments. His compassionate nature and innate understanding of forgiveness have the power to dissolve any tensions that may arise within our family.