Wolfswood, The North, 1st moon,275 AC*

It was a beautiful day in The North; as beautiful as a snowy day could get, the Wolfwood's ancient trees stood tall and proud, like the man of the North. A gust of wind, warmer than average, shook those ancient trees in a way never seen before; it was as if the Gods were welcoming a friend. The fallen leaves that made the ground its residence formed a surprisingly gorgeous "carpet" in the forest.

The calmness in the Wolfwood was a given from the old gods e most often than not undisturbed.

Fortunately, as history would show later today, this calmness was briefly disturbed. Near an archway made from two trees that, ages ago, were bent and interlocked naturally, a blue portal appeared. A man stepped out of it; as soon as the man got out of the portal, it closed, and the man, who had taken a deep breath as he looked at those ancient trees with respect and a little bit of confusion, said:

So it begins…

MC POV:

My name is Ragnar Dovahkiin, and as improbable as it seems, I was someone else before I was me, someone less essential and less… just less. I died from ways I couldn't remember and got the opportunity to be reincarnated and was given two wishes. My first wish was to have the memories, experiences, riches, items, determination, body, and heart of my Skyrim character; my second wish was to have Kratos' ( GoW) strength, henceforth I became me, warrior, a demigod with the strength of a god, someone who mastered all schools of magic, all styles of fighting, all assassination techniques, a hero worthy of sovengard.

Fortunately, I got to choose the world I would be sent to. I chose the world of Game of Thrones ( ASOIF, more precisely). I don't remember why anymore; it seems old me just thought it would be interesting… I have a few memories of the plot, but apparently the memories of Ragnar, his experiences, and vast knowledge made a few of old me's memories vanish…

My plan is to become a Lord of a good amount of land and rule it, make it prosperous… to help the people of this land.

( This is the only time we get to see Ragnar's thoughts in first person…)

General POV

Ragnar would like to think of himself as righteous, everything he did till today was for the good of someone or the realm ( even before he became Ragnar), and he liked it. So when he heard the sound of a fight and saw a group of 10 wildling men surrounding a single man and his wife, he didn't think twice before he decided to help.

The direction he was coming from was coincidentally at the couple behind, so they probably didn't see him coming till he was side by side with the man. The man, seeing Ragnar wasn't dressed like one of the Wildlings, assumed he got there to help, a dangerous assumption but a right one nonetheless.

Ragnar, by chance, noticed that on the ground laid five wildlings and two men ( soldiers if the letter armor and sword were any indications), all dead. Ragnar then looked at the man, wearing a rather expensive letter armor and a fur coat over his shoulders… he was a Lord, of that Ragnar was certain. The Lord looked at Ragnar with hope in his eyes. The wildlings looked at him with fear; how could they not? At 7'2, with black leather armor and an angry face, Ragnar was a rather imposing figure. Before he could say anything, a wildling beat him to it.

"So one more kneeler has joined the fight? Do you think we fear you, big guy? We are ten, and you are 2!"

Ragnar raised an eyebrow at that comment and pointed out:

"A few minutes ago, you were fifteen, and they were three… it seems your people don't know how to fight that well… a few minutes ago, I wasn't here; if I were, you would be 0, and we would be 4…" Ragnar then smirked at him "Before we begin, does anyone want to leave?"

Ragnar unsheathed his sword; as he did that, one of the wildlings shot an arrow at him, which he caught with his free hand…

"By the old gods," said the unnamed Lord

"I'll take that as a no," Ragnar said as he threw the arrow back at the man, right in the left eye, instantly killing him. Then hell broke loose… Ragnar ran to the group of wildlings… they tried to fight, but they failed… the speed with which Ragnar spun and slashed his sword was otherworldly, quite literally, and the rate at which he avoided the eventual sword slash or spear thrust was even greater… they died in less than 30 seconds.

The Unnamed lord, meanwhile, was taken aback by Ragnar's display and rather grateful for his help.

At this time, eleven armed men arrived coming from Ragnar's and the Lord's left side; as they looked at the scene, they saw fifteen dead wildlings, two men of their house's household dead, a giant man in the middle of the dead wildling and their lord with an awestruck expression on his face. They marched to the Lord's side and saluted

"Lord Stark! We didn't find any other wildlings. Apparently, it was a trap; when you sent us after those five wildlings, these fifteen were waiting for you here! We managed to kill those five wildlings. We returned as soon as we heard the fight…"

"And it seems you were beaten to it…." The now named Lord Stark said, and surprisingly his wife smiled a little.

"Who are you? I never heard of a warrior of your talents in these lands," Lord Stark asked, curious about the man's identity

"My name is Ragnar Dovahkiin…."

A/N: So that's it for now… I'll try to get another chapter in today… not sure! Leave a review… and sorry about the English, it's not my first language, if someone wants to be my editor lmk and we'll talk. Thanks