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Third Moon of 285 AC, Stark Manor
POV: Alex Craftson
The Nether had not broken them. It had improved them.
After eight months of grinding, smelting, enchanting, and cautiously avoiding lava lakes and ghast fireballs, the four of them now stood in the obsidian-lined chamber where the violet portal hummed like a living thing. The air was thick with heat and pride.
Alex flexed her fingers, admiring how her gauntlets gleamed. Full netherite. It fwlt heavy but perfectly fitted, forged from templates they'd spent weeks crafting and recrafting. Each piece of armor — hers, Steve's, Torrhen's, Lyarra's — was sleek and burnished, gleaming with a dark luster that spoke of heat and blood and persistence. Their swords were reforged as well, diamond replaced with netherite, enchantments layered and optimized. They were walking gods of war.
Or they would be — if anyone ever saw them in this gear.
"And you're sure we can't wear our netherite gear at your home?" Alex asked, her frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. Her voice was taut, indignant. "We earned this. With grind and grit. Hiding it feels... wrong."
Lyarra sighed, adjusting the strap on her shoulder plate. "We agree. But yes — we're sure."
Alex didn't hide her scowl.
"Netherite looks and behaves remarkably similar to something we call Valyrian steel," Torrhen said, stepping closer to the wall where the banner of the twin wolves hung. "Valyrian steel is... rare doesn't even begin to cover it. Practically mythical. Only the most powerful noble houses possess a Valyrian steel sword. Even then, just a sword. Armor made of it is unheard of."
Steve leaned back against a polished basalt pillar, arms folded. "Why so rare?"
"Because no one knows how to make it anymore," Lyarra replied. "The art was lost when Valyria fell. The steel is light, sharp, nearly unbreakable. Magical, in a way. One of the most prominent houses — the Lannisters — lost theirs centuries ago when King Tommen II led an expedition to the ruins of Valyria and never came back. Even today the Lannisters are still searching for a replacement and I know Lord Tywin has offered many nobles houses to buy their valyrian steel sword for immense amounts of gold dragons."
"Let me guess," Alex muttered. "Now if four complete nobodies show up wearing full suits of 'Valyrian' armor, people lose their minds?"
"Pretty much," Torrhen said dryly. "And by 'lose their minds,' we mean 'try to kill you and take your gear.'"
"Oh, and since we're nobodies from another world, and you two are just the illegitimate children of the former ruler of the North," Steve added with a snort, "we'd be immediate targets."
Neither twin corrected him. They merely nodded.
Steve slumped for a moment, clearly disappointed. Then his brow furrowed, and something sparkled behind his eyes.
"But... our swords would be fine though, right?"
Torrhen and Lyarra exchanged a glance. Another pair of nods.
Steve's face lit up. "Good. Then I still get to show off a little."
Alex rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress the grin tugging at her lips. "You're incorrigible."
He tapped the edge of his netherite blade against the basalt. It gave a low, clear ring. "No — I'm prepared."
Torrhen smiled faintly. "Just don't wave it around in front of any lords unless you're ready to explain how you 'found' a weapon that hasn't been forged in five hundred years."
"Oh, I'll think of something," Steve said with a smirk. "Maybe I'll say a flaming pig handed it to me."
Lyarra snorted. "Just don't say it was from a zombie riding a chicken. That might actually sound believable in Westeros, and then they'll really panic."
They all laughed.
Even dressed for a war no one could see yet, they were ready — and waiting — for the moment they'd finally return to Westeros but there was one thing they had yet to do.
**Scene Break**
The Ender Dragon barely had time to roar before it was done.
Arrows laced with Power V, perfectly timed ender pearl throws, feather-fall boots and potions — it all blended together in a swift, brutal symphony. Steve and Alex had trained for this day, sure. But the twins moved like they were born to slay dragons. Torrhen soared off obsidian pillars like a phantom. Lyarra used her bow like it was an extension of her body, every arrow precise, deliberate.
It was... easy. Almost too easy.
"That's it?" Steve muttered, blinking as the dragon's death cry echoed through the void. The EXP orbs swirled in a golden vortex before falling into their inventories. "That's actually it?"
Lyarra grinned as she scooped the dragon egg into her inventory, "Yup."
"Still can't believe how much you two knew about all this," Alex said, adjusting her elytra. "Every trick. Every mechanic. Every exploit. Where did you learn all that?"
Torrhen just shrugged. "Experience."
It was the same non-answer they'd given for months now. But by now, Steve and Alex didn't press. Not anymore. Not when the twins had shared everything else — every blueprint, every farm design, every memory of what lay ahead in Planetos. Even if the origin of their knowledge remained a mystery, their loyalty didn't.
And that was enough.
They returned to Stark Manor in a flash of light — Lyarra's modified respawn anchor humming softly beside the return portal.
Before taking their final step they made the expensive choice to use their standart minecraft swords and more netherite to craft actual longswords.
Torrhen led the way through the vaulted halls, past iron golems and auto-sorting stations, until they reached the secured chamber they'd always skipped over before.
The door opened with a hiss.
Inside: obsidian arches, redstone-conduit veins glowing like magma... and in the center, a massive ring of carved quartz and gold, its shape circular and ancient. Suspended within it: a shimmering pool of soft amber light. Glowstone particles drifted lazily within it like stars in a golden sky.
Alex gasped audibly. "So... pretty."
She immediately blushed and folded her arms, glancing away. "I mean. You know. It's nice."
Steve chuckled but kept his eyes locked on the portal. "So how does it work? We just... walk through? Like a Nether portal?"
"Yeah, basically," Torrhen replied. "No flint and steel needed. We found it's powered directly by a charged end crystal beneath the floor. What powers it on the other side we don't know."
"And it takes us to... Skane, right?" Alex asked.
Torrhen nodded. "Yup. A little island off Skagos. You'll like it. Cold. Rugged. Remote. Feels like a true survival spawn."
Alex tilted her head. "And what's the plan then?"
"We've talked it through already," Lyarra answered, stepping beside her twin. "First, we test how the inventory behaves once we cross. Can we still access our gear? How do enchanted items perform? Is redstone functional? If it all checks out, we each take a small boat from Skane and row to Skagos proper."
"Because of the Long Night," Steve said slowly. "You think what you said is mostly used as a tale to scare children into compliance is really coming back?"
"We know it is," Torrhen said, voice suddenly heavier. "Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not in ten years. But it's coming. And this time, we'll be ready."
Lyarra picked up the thread. "To stand a chance, we need bannermen of our own. Skagos may be sworn to Winterfell on paper, but they've been ignored for centuries. No contact. No accountability. Which also means... they aren't prepared for us. With our tools, our weapons, our knowledge? It won't take much to bring the three so-called noble houses of Skane to heel."
"And after that?" Steve asked, arms folded.
"We return to Winterfell," Lyarra said, allowing herself a soft smile. "Where we'll probably get our ears talked off for disappearing without permission."
Alex snorted. "That sounds familiar."
"Once we've secured Skagos," Torrhen added, "we'll begin implementing reforms. Better tools. Education. Infrastructure. After that... the lands beyond the Wall."
Alex stiffened a little, but nodded. She remembered the twins' warnings. The Others. The Long Night. A war no one else even believed was coming.
"It won't be easy," Torrhen admitted. "Establishing fortified ports, rallying the free folk... it'll take time. But we estimate we have around fifteen years before the real threat stirs. A few more before it marches."
Alex looked at Steve. Steve looked at her.
They both smiled.
"Well then," said Steve, stepping toward the portal and resting his arm on its edge, "what are we waiting for?"
**Scene Break**
Third Moon of 285 AC, Skane:
general pov
The moment Steve stepped through the glowstone-lit portal, the world tilted.
One instant, he was nothing but pixels, sensation dulled and defined by grid logic. The next — warmth. A heartbeat. A body.
He stumbled forward into pitch darkness, catching himself with reflexes that weren't just responsive but felt. His palms struck stone, and for the first time in months, he felt skin. Calluses. Heat.
"Alex?" he called, voice hoarse and real.
"I'm here," came her breathless reply, somewhere off to the left. There was a tremble in her voice, not from fear — from awe.
Steve pressed two fingers to the side of his neck and nearly gasped. A pulse.
He had a goddamn pulse.
"I have hands," Alex murmured. "Actual fingers." A quiet laugh. "Holy crap, Steve. We're… human. Just like Torrhen and Lyanna said we would be."
He turned toward the sound of her voice. Even in the dark, they could feel one another now — not by coordinates, but presence. The warmth of life. It was overwhelming, grounding. Alive.
Their eyes met — or they thought they did — and a strange new feeling flickered between them. Something warm. Terrifying. Curious. They'd been partners, fighters, builders. But never this.
The portal shimmered again behind them — and out stepped Torrhen and Lyarra, who immediately let out twin yelps of surprise as they nearly tripped on landing.
"Oh gods," Lyarra exhaled, looking down at her hands, then at her brother. "Torrhen — do you feel that?"
"I do," he said, grinning like a madman as he pulled her into a hug. They laughed together — really laughed — reveling in full sensation. The weight of armor was still on them, but beneath it they were flesh again. Cloth. Warmth. Real.
"Being a Minecraft player was fun," Lyarra murmured, eyes shining even in the dark, "but nothing beats this."
"Never knew what I was missing, living in the Overworld," Steve said, shaking his head as he looked at his gauntlets, flexing each finger slowly, watching the joints work. "Even if I could go back... I don't think I would. Not for long."
"Yeah," Alex agreed, her voice softer now. "I feel the same way."
"Well then," Torrhen said, rubbing his hands together with renewed energy, "I think it's time to find out just what works and what doesn't."
What followed was perhaps the most exhilarating hour any of them had ever experienced.
The twins were buzzing.
With a thought, Torrhen reached into his inventory — and pulled out a stack of torches. They didn't appear pixelated or awkward; they simply formed in his hand, shaped like the idea of a torch should look in this world. Smooth wood. Crisp flame. Real.
Lyarra placed a stone brick against the wall. Instead of locking into a rigid grid, it fused to the rock naturally, shaped by her intention. Walls became seamless. Floors aligned by thought.
Their armor slipped on and off with a whisper of mental command. Even more shocking — beneath their gear, they wore the same simple clothing they'd worn before their transformation. Fabric, stitching, boots. Memory made manifest.
Anything native to Minecraft, they could store, summon, and manipulate freely. But the moment Lyarra tried to stow a rock that wasn't from the inventory system — nothing. She could carry it in her arms, yes, but it wouldn't "go in."
Hunger bars were gone. Health too. Real-world biology had resumed. "I wonder how golden apples work now," Torrhen mused aloud. "Or potions. Will regeneration still feel like it used to?"
"No crafting table access either," Lyarra noted with a frown after placing one down and trying to interact with it. "Just a block now. No UI. No smithing table interface either."
"So enchanting's out too?" Alex asked, frowning.
"Looks like it," said Lyarra. "At least for now. Maybe it's a limitation of the world — or something else entirely."
Then footsteps echoed down the cave tunnel.
Steve and Alex reappeared, Alex cradling something in her arms. A spider.
Not a Westerosi one — a Minecraft spider. As big as a sheep, all calm eyes and twitching legs. It made a faint chittering sound, rubbing its front legs together in curiosity.
Steve grinned wide. "Don't worry, it's daytime out. And, uh... why did you two never tell us the mobs also spawn where you come from?"
Torrhen blinked.
Lyarra froze.
The air dropped ten degrees as understanding set in.
"You mean—?" Torrhen began.
"Mobs spawn at our home now?" Lyarra finished, horror widening her eyes.
They looked at each other.
A soulless Winterfell. Creepers under the godswood. Skeletons on the battlements. Zombies wandering the crypts. Mobs that should not be there.
"Forget about Skagos," Torrhen said, his voice tight.
"We have to travel to Winterfell," Lyarra finished grimly.
Steve gently lowered the spider and drew his blade.
Alex already had her bow out.
Without another word, the four of them turned back toward the surface. Whatever awaited them beyond the cave, they would face it not as players...
…but as humans armed with something far more dangerous than commands or mechanics.
**Scene Break**
In the end it fortunately proved to be far less serious than they first thought. After rowing southwestwards for quite a while and reaching Eastwatch by the Sea they got the information from the Commander there that yes minecraft mobs had been appearing for quite a while now but that south of the wall everything was still normal.
As tragic as the appearence must have been for the freefolk, for Torrhen this was immediately something he saw as an opportunity. They told the Commander not to send a letter to Winterfell about their reappearence just yet since they still had some things to do before returning home. For now Skagos awaited them.
**Scene Break**
Pictures of the quartett (in netherite armor)