The name is Ivan Karschenko, a disgraced former KGB agent. I was caught selling soviet state secrets to the Americans. Thing is, the Americans pay so much better. Their women are even better. Nice beautiful, large tits. Fully formed ass. Succulent lips. Most of soviet women don't compare and those that do, are in pay of KGB, GRU or some other spy agency. Not worth the risk.

My carrier as a KGB agent was long and distinguished. I started first as a weapon designer for the Kalashnikov design bureau, then was recruited by the GRU – military intelligence, where I got my spy training plus that as a proper soviet interrogator. For those of you who do not know the soviet form of interrogation, it is torture, torture and a lot of torture. I did so well that even hardened spetnaz were afraid of me.

As one of the premier spy, I visited all kind of soviet installation – factories, farms, research outposts you name it. During one of my tours, I realized that the end life of a KGB agent was either a bullet or a shitty life in some nameless hut and as such, it was in my best interest to take the American way out.

So, without much fanfare, I grabbed as much state secret as I could and ran off to USA. After feeding some sob-story about loving democracy and hating soviet dictatorship, I was a rich man, CIA was a happy well informed agency.

However, my new found life wasn't for long as KGB found me quick enough. Apparently, there are a few foolish Americans that liked those commie bastards. So, during one of the nights when I was enjoying a few beautiful well paid, big-titted escorts, they got me. Now, as I lay dead in some no-name alley pumped full of a poison that I helped create, I can't help but laugh.

Then I start dreaming. Fuck! In none of my training, where they almost killed me (to harden soldiers), had I ever dreamed. Am I dreaming of Game of Thrones? I did not even like that show – too much blood and guts for me. Seen plenty of that in my life thank you very much. Those trees look too much like the heart-shit tree those Starks would pray to. This cannot be afterlife can it? That killer-shit isn't supposed to give nightmares – I know, I helped design the damn thing. I even ran all the trials. It makes you think your body is melting but not this!

Fuck! The face in the tree speaks. "Ivan!"

"Ivan"

"Ivan – Listen to us"

In a bit of frenzy I retort, "This is not fucking funny – you KGB bastards, I might have fled to the yanks and turned traitor, but making me think trees talk is not funny. I will take siberia."

The tree then starts recounting my entire history including things I have never wrote down – so either I am deluded or this is completely real. I pinch my nose, poke my eyes and decided this must be real.

Then I reply, "Well, trees what do you want with Ivan? Ivan was having fun with a few nice woman and now Ivan is freezing his balls off."

The trees proves it does have a sense of humor and replies, "No, Ivan – Ivan was being killed by a few nice woman all working for your KGB. Ivan the terrible turned out to be Ivan the stupid"

"Fine, fine what do you want?"

"Ivan you have seen Game of thrones show?" - Trees.

I reply, "No you dumb carbon dioxide breathing fuckers – I have skipped to see the sex scenes to watch the naked women in it."

"Hmm – how would you like to perhaps fuck some of the woman in Game of thrones?" - Trees.

"You trees are truly stupid – I am not supposed to go to places where I might be photographed or exposed to press. Even approaching, much less dating one of those hotties in the show is a surefire way of getting my face plastered all over the evening news. After that if I am lucky KGB will kill me, if I am not, CIA will lock me up in a basement somewhere for my own safety."

"If you didn't notice, you are already dead Ivan." - Trees.

"Very funny. In that case, how exactly will I get to kiss, much less fuck some of those women?"

"Here is the thing Ivan, we would like for you to go to the world where that show is a reality and save North. The very idea of North suffering makes my leaves fall off. You have the skills for it – do whatever you have to but save North. Then, a man of your skill can do pretty much what he wants right? As long as your actions do not harm our trees, we won't interfere."

"Sounds like a sweet deal. But, skill is not good enough. I will need support. Resource. Where the fuck will I get that?"

"We will have you dropped as the Lord Stark so you should be able to garner plenty of support – damn wolf has more followers then us Old Gods I think. And what do you mean by resource?" - Tree

"Being a lord is all fine but not the kind of support I was thinking. I want a full brigade of spetnaz loyal only to me and of course, the resource they need. Resource like in transportation, ammunition, medicines and food. Can't run a war without proper support."

"How many spetnaz in a brigade? And the resource you are talking about is simply not possible. We can't transport raw materials from this world to another. Something about conservation of mass or something."

"A brigade has 5,000 men. If you can give me resource, they I will need a place where I can excavate/grow those resource right near wherever this Lord Stark character's home will be."

"5,000 men is impossible. I will do 50 at most – 50 soldiers of Winterfell will be turned into spetnaz loyal to you" - Tree.

"Fuck you bastard. Give me 500 and they should be both spetnaz and have the knowledge to figure out the resource needed to be a proper spetnaz" - myself.

"Fine – 100 spetnaz every year, over a 5 year period. You will be there dropped in Winterfell as King Torrhen Stark. The mines for the raw material you needed shall magically appear near your castle."

"Wait – wait, We were talking about me being a lord, not a king. A king has more enemies, more chances of death. Lord means less enemies, less work, more time to play"

"Well Ivan the idiot, you pushed us, so we changed the deal. Deal with it!"

"Fuck you trees!"

"Also, you are being dumped there a long time before the whole show starts, so all the bitches you wanted to seduce and fuck? Guess what you stupid commie bastard? They aren't born yet!"

"Double fuck you tree!"

"And one more thing, you haven't read the books much less watched the whole show, so you do not know the significance of the name King Torrhen Stark. Keep this in mind – he is the last king of North. Cheerio!"

Fucking trees. I so want to start killing every single environmentalist. Fuck global warming – lets kill all trees. We can then use air conditioner if it gets too hot. Fucking trees.

Dropped as King Torrhen Stark

As I rub my head, I hear voices. "My King, My King, Are you all right? You had a nasty fall."

Then I notice, I am clad completely in fur with a sword strapped to my belt. A dumb, mopy looking man is running towards me. My memories of this world tells me I am around 17 year old. Great a 17 year old king.

Mopy is rather afraid of me – apparently, I (or this body's previous owner) was fond of punishing others for his own failure. I have no time for such frivolities. Quickly, I growl, "I am fine mopy – we are heading to the throne room. Work to do"

The moment we reach the throne room, I start looking for my spetnaz. In frustration, I yell "SPETNAZ". And behold to my surprise, a veritable thunder of boot starts marching towards me and they all perform a perfect, smart military salute. My memory tells me these men used to be Winterfell guards, but now they have been transformed into spetnaz commandos. But without their AKs, there isn't much they can truly do.

I order them to look around Winterfell for the mines promised to me. Since Torrhen Stark is supposed to be the last King of Winterfell, my planning is going to be hard and fast – I wasn't going to die or loose. Sir, no sir.

A year since drop

The mines promised to me had all been located and put to work. Fear was a good thing. Lessons from soviet union about collective farming was put to good use (mostly what not to do) in order to increase our agricultural productivity. Within a period of 1 year, we had almost twice the amount of food being produced, the mines were now making the raw minerals needed for weapons. Things were finally looking up.

As promised, another 100 spetnaz dropped in. The spetnazs I had previously, had already started to train other guards as regular army. One way or other, I was not going to be the last winter king.

2 year since drop

Now I had 300 spetnaz. I had started fortifying every single entry point to the North. Limited production of AK-47s had started. A few mortars were also being produced. I would need 4 more years for a full compliment of weapons. My regular army was almost 600 strong.

On the naval end, things weren't so rosy. Eastern fleet was in decent standing even if it's equipment were lacking. The western fleet was, to mildly put shit. There harbor, the one called Fingers in Blazewater Bay did not have a proper lord and so, lacked any sort of repair capacity. Stories of bribery was rampant. So, I ordered my brother Brandon along with 50 spetnaz and 200 regulars to do a check.

3 year since drop

The trees dropped another 100 spetnaz, bring my total to 400. My regular army was now at 800. With the mines fully operational, I had a whole new town running – it might actually turn into a city soon enough.

As for armory, we now had enough to outfit all the spetnaz with AK-47s and a few units of the regulars if need be. We still didn't have enough mortars but that would be covered soon. In a better news, grenades were being produced.

On a more humane side, we now have a printing press running. We have medicines like aspirin, morphine, chloroform and penicillin. The spetnaz medics have been teaching the usage of those medicine to the civvies – soon enough, the mortality rate of North will be half of what it once was.

Then we get the bad news. There are dragons inbound. No definite news but something is going on down south. Stories about a blond haired dude and his two sister or was it wife, riding three great big dragon and conquering everyone. Was this what the tree was cautioning me about?

4 years since drop

Ever since I heard of those dragons, I have gotten more paranoid then ever. I do not want to be Torrhen Stark, the last winter king. Fuck that. My people are already making heavy machine guns. I actually have 3 heavy machine guns, PK-2 guns as I am calling them. A hybrid between the PKM and M2 browning machine gun. By the time those dragons get here, my guns will shred the dragon and I will take those three as my prisoners.

From the information we had, the dragons would be here in North in about 2 years.

The 500 Spetnazs are busy training every soldiers they can train. All the lords of North have been forced to bring their bannermens and heir to North. Bolton didn't and for that, he got the taste of AK-47. His fortress got mortared. Every single of those bannermen and heir are being trained as a part of the regular army. By the time I am done, they will be saying "Sir, yes sir" to my commands.

5 years to drop

The day is here. Targs have sent me a warning demanding surrender. Bah – I am not going to be the last Winter King. From what I hear, the sister wives of male targ are plenty beautiful. I have a few ideas on how to torture that damn targ.

So, we all meet just outside the Neck to discuss the terms of "Northern surrender". Instead, it is going to be the grave of over 10,000 Targ loyalist.

While the 4 of us, our assorted bodyguards sit right in between the respective armies, my actual army is busy setting up the machine guns and mortars all around the "dragon army".

In addition to the customary swords, me and my bodyguards were carrying AK-47s and dressed in proper BDUs. The talks were more like posturing – the male, Aegon cajoled me with a benefit of combined nation, the females would threaten me with dragon fire. Then I asked, "Perhaps you would like to show us the dragons before anything? Dragons are so fanciful to say the least you know."

One of the sister wives, I don't particularly care who, smirks, "Well, in that case why didn't you ask sooner Stark?" And she makes a somewhat strange, loud wail. Three majestic dragons swoop down towards us. Unfortunately for them, this is when my machine gunners decide to strike.

"Rata-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta" - loud noise opens from multiple direction against the three dragons. When the three Targs look around in confusion and scream about what is happening, my bodyguards quickly fill their accompanying lords/bodyguards with 7.62x55mm. The poor bastards have no chance against our bullets. Grinning at the horrified look of the three targs, we quickly knock them out and run towards our lines with the three dragon-fools slung over our shoulders.

By now, the machine gunners have truly destroyed the three dragons – made mincemeat out of them. I might try and recover what remains of the dragon and sell it, make a bit of gold so to speak. It didn't take long for us to reach our lines but that few minutes was more then enough for Northern army, my army to wreak havoc over the dragon army.

Over 30 machine guns, 100 mortars rained death over the assembled Targ army. In a matter of minutes, we had killed more then 5,000 men. Whoever escaped the initial purge and managed to approach our lines, fell to our AK-47s. All in all, 7,000 men were killed in less then 10 minutes and the remaining 3,000 men ran off without any order or direction.

A glorious northern end to would be conquerors. A runner had been dispatched to my Western and Eastern fleet telling them to go "hunting". Simply put, both fleet would leave North, heading towards South and kill any Targs they find. Any boat that flies Targ banner would be sunk. A battle group from Eastern fleet would head towards Dragonstone and rain hell on it. Instead of traditional "westerosi" war system of landing warrior, I would be doing Earth warfare. Saturated shelling before landing even one single soldier.

The three targs, filthy incestuous cunts with overdeveloped ego had me feel particularly sadistic and so, for Aegon the conqueror, I decided to do some tricky surgery. All in all, slicing through some of his key nerves had Aegon turned into a complete invalid. The only muscles he could move were his neck and his tongue. Despite having all his hands and legs, the would-be conqueror of North was going to be my decoration – a warning for any southerners with designs on North.

As for his two-sister wives, I wasn't sure on what to do. My northern lords were already voicing their opinions – there ideas ranged from simplistic like head on a pike to grotesque one such as whoring them out to the men. I might have whored them out to the men if it wasn't for mainly my modern-esque sense of no-rape or the more practical knowledge that my soldiers would have damaged them for being "invading whore".

So, I decided to make them walk naked with me. I wasn't going to fuck them or hurt them or anything like that. Well, letting them go wasn't an option and after they way they threatened to make me the last Winter king, there oughta be some payback. A pair of my spetnaz and a few more trusted, honorable men from my personal guard would make sure they weren't raped or hurt but they didn't know that. Thus, for the foreseeable future, those two brother-fukers would be living in a constant state of "when will I be raped?" - serves them good for trying to conquer my country. Stupid dragon bitches.

Right after taking care of the Targs, I sent ravens to all the other kings with news of what I did to the targs. An open invitation to see the continued suffering of the three targs was also attached. That should keep them contained. Fucking southerners.

I am Ivan Karschenko, reborn as Torrhen Stark, The Winter King. Anyone who dare looks at my north shall feel my machine guns. Fuck 'em all.

Epilogue

I never got to fuck any of the hotties I saw in the TV show. All I ever got was the ugly ass winter crown, two naked babes to serve as my personal decoration and a 100% parapalagechic fool to threaten others with.

However, I did fuck plenty of hotties. Beautiful wildling girls because I removed the kneeling from North and replaced it with saluting. Exotic summer islanders who came to see the dragon carcasses. Lysanese whores gifted to me because for some reason, the fools at Lys thought I might come there to wipe them out for looking like Targs. The princess of house Lannister in exchange for citizenship of North – apparently, old lion wanted her to marry the kraken but she thought AK-47 toting, machine gun pointing, grenade throwing Northern brute was a damn sight better then the kraken.

Do you know the best part? I fucked all those beautiful women right in front of those three targs. In fact those two always naked targ girl actually got wet seeing me fuck that lysenese whore. But, since I killed their dragon, they wouldn't let me fuck them and I wasn't going to push the issue.

My fleet was still roaming for any possible Targs trying to escape to the free cities. The other kings were doing an excellent job of killing anyone who might even be a Targ. They didn't really like being servants to the dragon. Dragonstone was nothing but ruins. Everyone knew it belonged to the North now, even if no northman will ever set foot in there – I have let all the kings know that it will remain deserted and ruined as a monument to Targaryen sin against the North. I think they got the message – pull a Targaryen and their lands will be the next dragonstone. Ha – if I ever get around making an atom bomb, I might just use that island as the testing ground.

Fuck yeah! All in all, I was not the last Winter King. I had plenty of children from all the women I fucked, all those children I named Kraschenko. Then I picked the smartest, meanest and angriest one of the lot, named that kid Kraschenko-Stark and decided that one would be the next Winter King. In fact, I actually wrote a constitution saying none of the royal family's children could be a bastard unless the father or mother says so. Oh yeah!

All in all, I fucked plenty of beautiful women from all over Westeros and Free cities. I wiped out the dragons pretty good. I tortured and am still torturing the three targs. North is strong and shall always remain strong. Perhaps I should sing, "It is a wonderful world, it is a wonderful world, it is a wonderful world, it is a…, it is a….,"

"Vodka!" and the naked Targaryen bitch ran towards me with the beautiful jug full of vodka, all the while juggling her own beautiful jugs. Only in Westeros a former commie bastard can live such a life.