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The first thing that came to my mind as I opened my eyes was, "Turn the light off." As I slowly gained coherence, the meeting I had with that ROB came rushing back to me. Along with it, the memories of this body settled into my mind.
I am a 15-year-old boy from a small, nameless village in the North. The time period is right after the end of Robert's Rebellion, and I am currently in Winterfell, here to receive a reward for my services during the war. Specifically, I saved Eddard Stark's life at the Battle of the Red Fork, then accompanied him to lift the siege of Storm's End and later to find his sister.
Instead of Howland Reed landing the decisive blow that turned the tide at the Tower of Joy, I was the one who gave Lord Stark the chance he needed to win. After the whole debacle surrounding Lyanna Stark, we returned to King's Landing to report her death before heading back North. On the way, we made a stop at Riverrun to pick up Lord Stark's new wife, Catelyn Tully, and their newborn son, Robb Stark.
After parting ways with Howland Reed at the Neck—where I assume the two lords had a private conversation about what to do with me—we traveled through Moat Cailin and continued along the Kingsroad. It was an exhausting journey, made worse by the fact that I had to endure not one but two babies crying. We arrived in Winterfell yesterday.
Basically, Lord Stark wants to buy my silence regarding Jon Snow's true parentage.
Now, about me.
I am an abnormally large 15-year-old, standing at six feet tall with a proportional body. I would probably be an intimidating sight—if not for one small detail. That bastard ROB gave me the looks of Saitama. The same plain face. The same shiny, bald head. The head-to-body ratio is correct and all, but my face is completely unremarkable.
I thought I was average-looking in my past life, but this is even worse. If you put ten people in a room, including me, your eyes would absolutely slide right over my face.
As I got up from my bed, cursing that ROB in my mind for the baldness, something smacked me in the face. When I looked down, I saw a letter addressed to Mr. John Smith.
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A/n; if you can please support me in patreon.com/JohnSmith986