Building and Crafting in Game of Thrones

Comments and Reviews would be welcome as always. :3

To those who wondered why the last chapter was all in bold... I have no bloody clue myself. In the editor file it isn't like that... hope it doesn't happen again.

Sixth Moon of 285 AC, Skyport:

pov Lyarra Skywalker

A month after construction begin, three new walls rose from the coast in concentric rings each being built at (for Westerosi smallfolk) mind boggling speeds by the faithful. Beyond the third lay farmland and storehouses, but inside… Skyport took form.

The Inner Ring was reserved for everything business. Warehouses of every size lined the future harbor, their stone walls fortified, their roofs tarred and ready to take sea-winds. There were no homes here—only goods, docks and a few barracks. The wall on the seaward side was high, straight, and plain—ready for siege engines or cannon, should the world ever become madder still.

The Northern Sector of the inner ring was built for industry. Blacksmiths, tanners, carpenters, glassworkers. Mixed between them were new shops, high-end stores, and expansive homes for the wealthy. Masons laid down streets of smooth northern stone. Everything was built to last.

The Second Ring was the true heart. Rows upon rows of three-story German-style apartment complexes began to rise, each a thing of grey stone and thick-beamed wood, their tiled roofs steep and symmetrical. Two buildings shared a stairwell at the center, and each floor held a family. The topmost floor had sloped open ceilings and skylights—perfect for rooftop gardens. Lyarra had ordered them included herself.

"I loved this kind of architecture before the cubes took over," she muttered one evening, watching the silhouettes of the rising structures under the stars. "Germany got boring in the 20th century."

"I have no idea what that means my lady but they'll be good homes," Mace said beside her. "Efficient. Dignified. Better than anything that us faithful ever had in the overworld."

The Third Ring, still rough around the edges, was where the grainstores and single-family homes would stand. It was quieter, spaced out, breathing room for those who didn't yet trust walls.

Ten meters below ground, earth was still being cleared. Tunnels reinforced with stone and wooden support beams snaked northward. The main tunnel would lead straight to Frostgate which was a roughly a dozen miles away.

At dusk, she stood in the central courtyard before the recently completed major's manse and watched as torchlight flickered through windows.

Skyport was still young. Still ugly in places. But it was alive. It had purpose.

She touched her palm to one of the new stone walls, rough but warm from the sun.

This is only the beginning she thought.

Then she glanced toward the darkened northeast—toward Frostgate, where her brother was expected to return soon. She knew Elia and Rhaenys were once again feeling his absence and Aegon and Alysanne were also asking her about her brother as Rhaenys was currently a bit mopey.

Worse, Lyarra herself missed her twin terribly, besides the rebellion the two had literally never been apart for more than a few days at most and now she hadn't seen him in more than a month.

**Scene Break**

Sixth Moon of 285 AC, The Thenn Valley:

POV: Torrhen Skywalker

Snow blanketed the northern slopes, thicker and more treacherous with each mile they crossed beyond Hardhome.

The mobs were different up here. They spawned in larger numbers at nights especially Zombies and Skeletons though they luckily also still burned after dawn.

Creepers no longer waited in ambush but stalked their prey in small groups. Skeletons actually were able to accurately hit their targets. Zombies moved in swarms large enough to overwhelm small groups of humans. Even the spiders—huge and mottled and bloated— were stronger and faster than in areas like Hardhome.

Weirldy though it seemed like the Endermen were actually mostly evading the places further from the wall, as they saw less and less the further they traveled away from the wall.

"They are learning," Steve muttered, wiping ichor from his sword. "Or someone's organizing them."

"It's like their code's changed," Torrhen said grimly, kicking over a half-burned creeper corpse. It twitched once and went still. Torrhen didn't see his friends rolling their eyes behind his back at his sentence, one they failed to understand the meaning of. Val shot them a questioning glance as if to say Any idea what he said just now? But the Craftsons only shook their heads with amusement.

In response, Val gripped her spear tighter. Her cheeks were windburnt, her breath steamed in quick huffs, but her eyes were sharp. "This far north, everything fights harder to survive. Apparently even the dead."

"Hey Torr, any idea why there are basically no Endermen this far north?" asked Alex curiously.

"Hmmm, well if I had to guess it would be because something terrible is resting even further north from here and the endermen are respectful of whatever is slumbering... or afraid." said Torrhen with a meaningful glance towards Steve and Alex who nodded in understanding quickly just what or rather whom Torrhen was talking about. They had already told him they were glad Torrhen had not yet told Val of his knowledge of the future, it would take time for Val to trust them enough to believe such for her crazy predictions.

After a week of fighting and trekking, they reached the high-walled Thenn Valley—a wind-carved bowl of land nestled between mountains of frozen stone. Smoke rose from dozens of huts clustered around a longhouse of blackened wood and bronze fittings. Guard posts lined the narrow entrance, and bronze-armored warriors barred their way with spears held firm.

A man strode down the path to meet them. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his skin the color of old bone and his beard woven with copper wire.

"I am Styr, the Magnar of Thenn" he said, voice like iron scraped on stone. "I have heard about a small group of roughly a dozen travelers in steel plate or chainmail armor who come from the southeast. It's concerning that these reports were accurate. I want to know who you are and what you want from us."

"I am Torrhen Skywalker, son of Rickard Stark," Torrhen said. "And I have come to offer unity. Strength. Food. And survival."

Styr gave a low, unimpressed grunt. "Hah what would a southerner like you know anout us? Our forges still burn. Our women still bear sons. Our warriors still bleed. We are not so weak as the sea-clans of Hardhome."

"You're not weak," Torrhen agreed. "You're just doomed."

That earned silence.

Torrhen went on. "You've seen it. More monsters. Fewer herds. Crops that freeze before harvest. And if what I've seen on the march is true, you're losing more than you're replacing."

Styr's eyes narrowed. "That is our concern."

"I'd make it mine," Torrhen said. "If you let me."

Styr stepped closer. "We are Thenn. We follow no king, no gods, and no promises. We follow the strongest."

Torrhen nodded slowly. "Then name your challenge."

**Scene Break**

POV: Steve Craftson

The Thenns had cleared a ring in the snow, its perimeter marked by spears stabbed into the earth. Warriors gathered silently around it, their breath fogging the air. Val stood beside Steve and Alex, arms crossed, unreadable.

"He's doing it, then," Steve said.

"Of course," Alex replied, flicking her hood up against the wind. "And he's going to win."

"You think so? This Magnar doesn't seem to be weak or a fool" Steve said with a grin.

"Pah don't pretend you doubt Torrhen. He, Lyarra and the two of us are stronger than all of our peers and Torrhen will be fifteen soon. Ahhh there he is"

Torrhen entered the ring in his dark leather coat and iron breastplate, trimmed with snow bear fur. His steel blade glinted in the weak sunlight.

Styr entered bare-chested, with bronze greaves and gauntlets, carrying a brutal two-handed axe.

No horns were blown. No boasts were made.

They simply walked towards one another and started fighting.

Steel rang, snow churned beneath their boots, and blood soon followed. Torrhen fought with efficient precision—his reach, strength, and stamina carrying him through. He ducked under a wide swing and slammed his blade's pommel into Styr's ribs, then stepped in and swept his leg.

The Thenn Magnar crashed into the snow.

Silence fell again.

Styr rose, spitting red, eyes burning with fury. "You wear metal forged in heat we cannot match. You wear armor I cannot pierce. We'll fight again but this time without armor, show me that you are more than just a boy hiding behind his steel forged armor"

Torrhen looked to Val. She didn't speak—but she met his gaze and nodded once.

He began unbuckling his armor. Styr grinned widely and followed suit.

**Scene Break**

pov Torrhen Skywalker

The second fight was uglier.

The cold bit deep without his armor. Styr came at him harder this time, raining blows meant to kill, not test. Torrhen had to move faster, dodge more, spend his energy carefully.

They traded strikes until both were bloodied and winded. Torrhen's hands stung from blocking the axe with a sword that had been chipped at multiple spots. He really should have brought a crafted iron longsword from the overworld. But he endured.

Then he saw it—Styr's leg faltered on the pivot.

Torrhen feinted, stepped inside, and drove a shoulder into his gut. Styr staggered, lost footing, and fell.

Torrhen knelt, blade at his throat.

Again, silence.

And again, Styr rose.

"You are fast," he rasped. "You are clever. You are stronger than I thought."

Then he raised his axe one last time. "But I need to know. If I yield, you rule us. If I fight once more and lose, there can be no doubt."

Torrhen sheathed his sword. "One last time, then."

**Scene Break**

pov Styr

The taste of his own blood was sharp and bitter.

For the first time in many moons, Styr felt peace.

"I yield," he growled. "You are the stronger. You are the better."

He looked up at Torrhen, breathing hard.

"I will summon the clan-speakers. The Thenns will listen. But know this—rule us well, or die in your sleep."

Torrhen extended a hand.

Styr took it.

**Scene Break**

POV: Torrhen Skywalker

The wind carried the smell of smoke and brine as they gathered on a windswept bluff overlooking the restless sea. Styr, the Thenn chieftain, stood at the center of a ring of wildling leaders—weather-bitten men and women with hard eyes and heavier axes.

Torrhen stood to the side, flanked by Steve and Alex. None of them spoke. This was Styr's meeting.

The chieftain's voice was like gravel against iron. "We have a few guests that have brought an... interesting proposition.," he growled, nodding toward the trio. "This is Torrhen Skywalker a son of the last Lord Stark south of the wall. Next to him are his friends the Craftsons. They are strong and good with a blade... and they have good blades, I've seen 'em. Skywalker promises us food, weapons and a town on the eastern shore a few leagues north of the wall. In return I am to bend the knee to him like that Mance Rayder you might have heard about has done recently."

Murmurs rose from the circle—suspicion, curiosity, and the usual undercurrent of anger that came when old wounds were prodded.

A wiry woman with black braids down her back spat into the dirt. "You're asking us to bend the knee."

"No," Styr said simply. "They didn't ask for that. Just me. I am also under no obligation to follow them to war and we will pay no taxes. Honestly I have no idea what they get from the deal but you won't hear me complaining."

A red-bearded giant folded his arms. "What's the catch?"

"Your entire people will have to abandon your home and come with us," Torrhen interjected quietly, stepping forward. "If you worry about the crows who will be nearby, Eastwatch won't stop you. They answer to the Lord Commander. I already spoke with him. He knows what we plan."

There was a long silence.

Another man, younger, missing half an ear, said, "You mean to make us farmers and masons?"

"No," Steve said, arms crossed. "We mean to make you settlers. You'll still hunt. Still fish. Still fight. But you'll also eat through the winters and sleep behind walls strong enough to keep monsters out. There will be regular food shipments from our lands on Skane and Skagos including wheat, carrots and potatoes."

Alex stepped forward. "You won't lose your freedom. You gain shelter, tools, medicine, warm water baths—hell, you'll probably lose half your frostbite scars by spring."

Styr grunted. "The crows don't feed your children. These three will. I've seen the maps. Seen the stone they plan to stack. Skywalker has promised us a town and a castle."

The circle fell deathly silent.

"A castle?" someone whispered. "Like the Southrons have?"

"Aye," Styr said. "Not for lords. For us. For Thenns, and clans who've got the sense to want more than cold and hunger. A home. And I'll see it built stone by stone if I have to crack the mountain myself."

Slowly one by one the leaders present gave their confirmation to the proposal until Styr must have thought it was enough.

He turned toward Torrhen and the others. "I'll follow you. The Thenns will march beside you. And the castle will be called Snowfort while I take my title as the name of my future house"

The name struck Torrhen like a hammer blow. He opened his mouth to protest—then stopped.

He nodded once. "Then let Snowfort rise."

One by one, the others began to nod. A few grunted in reluctant approval. Some simply crossed their arms and said nothing—but they didn't walk away.

By sundown, the decision was made. The Thenn would become bannermen of House Skywalker. Styr would create House Magnar of Snowfort.

They would leave within the day while the tribes would leave one by one starting in a week, making their way southeast to a spot north of Eastwatch by the Sea. Val decided to stay with Styr for a while, telling Torrhen not to enjoy himself too much without her. He blew her a kiss before they left, visibly leaving the girl satisfied.

**Scene Break**

Seventh Moon of 285 AC, North of Eastwatch by the Sea

Pov Alex Craftson

Torrhen, Steve and Alex and the Craftson honorguard had arrived facing few problems on the way and once they arrived had chosen a nice spot near the coast, promptly started building houses in a frenzy whose foundations and walls were stone but had wooden rooftops.

With the wall and Eastwatch by the Sea looming in the distance further south and the knowledge that they didn't have too much time, they built with haste the center of a town which Styr had told them he wanted to call Thenntown. Simple but oddly catchy when Alex thought about it. They also built a few grainhouses and glass

When they saw the first tribe in the distance to the northwest they stopped building and allowed themselves a few days of rest. They had used almost all of their building blocks anyway and Alex was glad she could return to the overworld soon to replenish her inventory. It felt weird to instinctively know that almost all her bundles were now empty.

When the first Thenn tribe lead by Styr and accompanied by Val, they were impressed that such houses even existed beyond the wall and Styr looked at Torrhen with a bit of gratefulness when he saw the stores filled with food.

"I have no idea when you had your people transport all that food here but know that I am thankful, my Lord" said Styr, his expression filled with gratitude.

"How did you find this village? And why is it abandoned? I hope you did not force the previous inhabitants to flee just so the Thenn could claim it." said Val later with curiousity and a small frown. Torrhen quickly assured her that these houses had been built just recently and specifically so that the Thenn could settle there.

Each week more tribes arrived with those already settled already having begun building their own homes.

Styr's people also began the foundations of his future castle, one that the man was a bit giddy about he would be owning soon.

It began with smoke. Not from burning—but from building. Hearths in stone circles, cooking fires, forge smoke. Then came the shouting—children, workers, Thenns dragging stone and timber. Tents ringed the rising foundation of what would one day be a hall strong enough to defy a storm.

Snowfort. She had to admit, it had a good ring to it.

Alex stood on a low hill with Steve, watching as dozens of wildlings, all from different tribes worked side-by-side with eachother. Slabs of quarried stone were stacked for the foundations. Trenches marked where walls would rise.

To the east, around the stone houses Torrhen, Steve and Alex had built, simple timber homes were already being raised. Organized in rows, shockingly enough. The beginnings of a town.

"Thenntown," Steve murmured. "That's what they're calling it."

Alex arched a brow. "Not too poetic."

"Better than 'The New Mudpile.'"

She smirked. "Fair."

Behind them, Torrhen emerged from a canvas tent where he'd been sketching new layouts for the granary. His hands were ink-stained, his cloak dusted with ash.

"You two just watching?" he asked, half-amused.

"We're admiring," Alex said. "And letting the Free Folk prove they're not half as unorganized as we thought."

Torrhen looked out over the rising settlement. "Give it a year. This place will be a hub. Food, trade, stories. A fortress and a home. One step closer to making atleast some of the lands beyond the Wall actual ruled and protected territories."

He didn't say it—but Alex knew what he meant.

One step closer to proving the world didn't have to follow the rules it always had. One step closer to give atleast some of the wildlings houses and walls to hide behind once the others came. And she knew that slowly more wildling clans and tribes would follow Mance's and Stys' example once they found out how well these two were doing as minor lords sworn to her friend.

And so Thenntown rose, plank by plank, stone by stone.

And at its heart, beneath the mountain winds and beside the cold sea, Snowhall began to take form—no longer a dream, but a declaration.

Looking at the foundations of the castle, Alex began to dream of her own keep someday too. For a moment she thought that it would probably be quite easy to take control of Frostgate with the help of the faithful before she slapped herself and not just mentally.

How could she even have those thoughts of betrayal?

"How could Steve and I possibly betray all the trust and the opportunities Torrhen and Lyarra have given us? No we could never do that" she thought.

Alex still dreamt of her own castle but quickly decided that she and Steve might aswell just build their own too.

"Now just to wait for the opportunity and find a place where we would fit" Alex thought.

**Scene Break**