Skyrim System In Westeros

An afternoon in King's Landing, at a residence in the city.

"Ahn~~ Awoo~~" The sound was shrill, hoarse, and grating.

Passersby nearby would exchange knowing smiles, raising their eyebrows as they wondered what kind of woman could produce such pig-slaughtering screams.

---

By evening, Petyr Baelish, better known as Littlefinger, had dressed himself and turned to the woman still lying in bed, Lysa Tully.

"The sun has set; you must return to Jon Arryn, my dear."

Lysa lay motionless, staring at the ceiling. "That old man reeks of decay; I feel nauseous just looking at him!"

Littlefinger, now fully dressed, sat on the edge of the bed and held Lysa's hand. "Even so, you must return for your son. He cannot do without you."

"My sweet Robin," Lysa said, suddenly jolted by the thought. "He hasn't eaten yet today." She sprang out of bed and began dressing hurriedly.

Littlefinger, however, felt nothing but revulsion for Lysa. Growing up together, Lysa had fallen madly in love with him, but his heart had always belonged to her elder sister. Fate, however, had played its hand. He had deflowered Lysa, and she had conceived his child.

Her father forced her to terminate the pregnancy, banished Littlefinger, and married her off to Jon Arryn, the elderly but childless Lord of the Vale.

Now, every time Littlefinger saw her body, he felt an overwhelming sense of disgust. Lysa's obsessive love for her son, Robin, who was now five and still breastfeeding, was another source of his contempt. If it weren't for her powerful family connections, Littlefinger would have poisoned her long ago.

Keeping his smile intact, he said, "I've heard that Jon Arryn plans to send sweet Robin to Dragonstone to be fostered by Stannis Baratheon after the war."

Lysa paused, halfway through dressing. "That's true. Why do you ask?"

"I wonder if you've heard of Denys Arryn?"

Lysa let out a dismissive hum.

Littlefinger continued. "He was once the first in line to inherit the Vale. But since sweet Robin was born, he's been demoted to second."

Jon Arryn had been married three times. His first wife, Jeyne Royce, had died in childbirth, along with their stillborn daughter. His second wife, his cousin Rowena Arryn, succumbed to the Winter Chill before producing an heir.

By the time of his third marriage to Lysa Tully, Jon was already advanced in age and had named his nephew, Elbert Arryn, as his heir. Elbert, along with many other nobles, had been executed by the Mad King.

Denys Arryn, a member of a cadet branch of the house, married Jon's niece and was named his heir. Due to historical divergences — namely the absence of the Battle of the Bells in Robert's Rebellion — Denys survived, unlike in the original timeline.

That changed with Jon's third marriage, as Lysa bore sweet Robin, relegating Denys to second in line.

Denys Arryn was known for his striking looks, courtly manners, and martial prowess, earning respect and love from the Vale's nobility. They called him "the Darling of the Vale".

The Vale's nobility was now split into two factions. One supported Denys for his stability and competence, while the other backed sweet Robin, despite his being a five-year-old still clinging to his mother's skirts.

Lysa's anger flared. "Sweet Robin is Jon Arryn's trueborn son!"

"Keep your voice down!"

Littlefinger rushed over, clamping a hand over her mouth and stroking her hair to calm her.

"No one is denying that. But my spies tell me that Denys Arryn has already begun investigating. In the Vale, the Arryn are known for their golden hair. You, however, are a redhead — so how did your son end up with brown hair? Lord Jon Arryn is elderly, giving the impression of having white hair. He might not notice or remember such things, but the rest of House Arryn certainly hasn't forgotten. And now, you want to send him to Dragonstone? Don't you find that suspicious?"

Littlefinger felt relieved that his own hair had turned gray, diverting any suspicion from himself — for now.

Lysa Tully clung to Littlefinger in a fit of hysteria, crying, "What should I do? You have to think of something!"

Feeling suffocated by her grip, Littlefinger suggested, "You could try for another child — one with golden or red hair."

Lysa retorted bitterly, "He's as impotent as an eel now!"

Breaking free of her grasp, Littlefinger picked up a small blue vial from the bedside table and shook it in front of her.

"Use this. It's an alchemical potion crafted by the mysterious magicians of Volantis."

Lysa grabbed the vial and examined it closely. The fine glass bottle had a label of the highest-quality parchment, with writing in three different languages, only one of which she could read.

"Might?"

"Yes," Littlefinger confirmed. "King Robert purchased this potion at a steep price from a merchant in the Reach. Within a week, the queen was with child. You need to conceive before Denys Arryn uncovers anything. With two heirs, his chances of usurping your son will diminish significantly."

Lysa hesitated. "How am I supposed to convince Jon? Should I slip it into his food or wine?"

"No, no. You must tell him directly. He's likely familiar with such magical remedies. He needs to take it willingly."

Littlefinger held her hand, guiding her finger to trace the writing on the label.

"Repeat after me. In the Common Tongue: 'Might.' In Valyrian: 'Big strong power.' And in High Valyrian: 'Sah.'"

After a brief moment of intimacy, Littlefinger shifted the conversation.

"I've heard that your niece, Sansa Stark, has been in King's Landing for some time. Why have I never seen her?"

Lysa replied, "She's been taken as an apprentice by Renly Baratheon and is studying at the school of magic. My sister said Sansa had never left Winterfell before. It's her first time away from home; she's probably too afraid to even step outside, let alone visit the Red Keep."

"As her aunt, you should take care of her. Perhaps invite her to the Hand's residence. Build a closer relationship," Littlefinger suggested.

---

During the ongoing war, most of the school's members had been conscripted by the king to fight in the Stepstones. Sansa Stark, in their absence, was left to study the theoretical teachings of the Children of the Forest, mastering the basics of magical theory.

She now sat alone in the library, poring over a book, when a girl around her age approached with a tray of snacks.

"Thank you, Jeyne!"

Jeyne Poole, the daughter of Winterfell's steward, Vayon Poole, had grown up alongside Sansa and was a close friend. A beautiful girl, she had once caught Theon Greyjoy spying on her while she bathed, an act for which he had received a severe beating from his sister, Asha.

Typically, the school of magic didn't allow non-magical individuals to enter. However, these were extraordinary times, and the school was nearly empty, lacking even basic staff for cooking and cleaning.

As the steward's daughter, Jeyne had a suitable enough background. Not only could she handle chores, but she was literate. Renly had therefore granted her an exception, hiring her as a servant to manage the school's day-to-day tasks.

"These books are filled with words I can read, but I don't understand any of it," Jeyne said, munching on one of her homemade snacks while glancing at Sansa's book.

"As long as you're in the school of magic, you can read the library's books freely. But without magic, you can't truly comprehend their contents." Sansa demonstrated by summoning a brief flicker of magical light in her hand before extinguishing it. "Ah! I'm far worse than my brothers and sister,"