Skyrim System In Westeros

Westeros, 280 AC, the castle of Storm's End, seat of House Baratheon, rulers of the Stormlands.

Stannis Baratheon, at seven and ten name days, sat rigidly in the lord's chair within the great hall of Storm's End. His short black hair was neatly trimmed, his broad shoulders and muscular build exuding strength. His face, however, was impassive, devoid of any trace of emotion, his features set in a perpetual expression of grim determination.

The room was alive with conversation as the vassals and stewards of the Stormlands debated the details of an upcoming tournament to be held at Storm's End. Stannis spoke sparingly, only intervening to make decisions when critical matters arose, his words brooking no argument or compromise.

A report from one of the guards had interrupted earlier proceedings: his youngest brother, Wright Baratheon, had once again eaten something unsuitable and was suffering from severe vomiting and diarrhea. When Maester Cressen, having attended to the matter, returned to the hall with a calm smile, he announced, "The boy is fine now. He's emptied his stomach thoroughly and just needs a hearty supper."

Stannis acknowledged the maester with a curt nod and returned to listening to the ongoing discussions, his stern face betraying no thoughts.

In 278 AC, their mother, Lady Cassana Estermont, had given birth to twin boys. Not long after, she was ordered to set sail with their father, Lord Steffon Baratheon, on a mission to find a bride for Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.

For centuries, the Targaryen royal family had maintained a tradition of intermarriage to preserve the purity of their Valyrian bloodline. However, by the time Prince Rhaegar had come of age at six and ten name days, no suitable relative was available. Desperate, King Aerys II Targaryen—the Mad King—sent emissaries across Essos to search for a Valyrian-descended bride, where some silver-haired, purple-eyed descendants of Old Valyria were rumored to remain.

Tragedy struck on their return voyage when their ship was caught in a storm and sank. A passing merchant vessel later found a bedraggled fool clinging to a piece of driftwood, delivering the grim news of the Baratheon couple's fate.

The eldest son, Robert Baratheon, had been fostered in the Vale at the Eyrie under Lord Jon Arryn. At six and ten name days, Robert inherited the titles of Lord of Storm's End and Warden of the Stormlands, but he now spent much of his time traveling across Westeros, participating in tournaments.

Jon Arryn had taken both Robert and Eddard Stark of Winterfell as wards. After losing his first wife in childbirth and his second to illness, Jon remained childless, leaving Robert and Eddard as his heirs apparent.

With Robert frequently absent, he left the governance of Storm's End and the Stormlands in the capable hands of his younger brother, Stannis. At seven and ten name days, Stannis was tasked with managing the estate and overseeing their youngest siblings, the twins Renly and Wright Baratheon, both two and a half name days old.

Robert Baratheon, eldest, at eight and ten name days.

Stannis Baratheon, second-born, at seven and ten name days.

Renly Baratheon, third-born, at two and a half name days, the elder twin.

Wright Baratheon, fourth-born, at two and a half name days, the younger twin.

This was House Baratheon of Storm's End, lords of the Stormlands, one of the original Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.

As for the youngest sibling, Wright, who had not existed in the original histories, he now lay in his freshly cleaned bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Wright, Renly's twin, was yet another addition to the Baratheon lineage. With his black hair and blue eyes, he bore all the hallmarks of his family's features. His future stature and looks were of little concern.

For Wright, however, the situation was far more complex. Trapped in the body of a child, his mind remained that of a man in his twenties. Earlier, vomiting publicly in front of the household had been a humiliating ordeal. Should anyone mention it in the future, his only recourse would be to feign childish ignorance.

He rolled over in bed, continuing to stare aimlessly, lost in his thoughts.

Originally, he had been an ordinary young man from the 21st century. Nine years of compulsory education, university, dating, work, a mortgage for a house and car—time had passed in a regular rhythm. Crossing into another world had never been part of the plan.

He'd spent years waiting for The Elder Scrolls VI after seeing a promotional teaser online. One year passed, then another, and still no news. He'd joked that if Bethesda had just typed 20 characters a day, there'd be a file several hundred KB long by now. At this rate, it felt like the game might still be sitting as an empty "New Folder" on someone's desktop.

One day, chatting with a coworker about the endless wait, the colleague mentioned that they were playing The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim and boasted about having a 160GB mod collection ready to share. "It's incredible! I'll send you the link," the coworker had said, grinning mischievously.

As someone who had always stuck to vanilla games, avoiding mods or cheats, he hesitated. But curiosity won out, and he resolved to give it a try, despite the coworker's sly grin flashing in his mind.

His cloud save files were still intact. Selecting an old character, he launched the game, only for everything to go horribly wrong. The moment the game loaded, he felt his soul wrenched from his body and hurtled into a glowing tunnel of light. Time seemed meaningless as he floated endlessly, until finally, the tunnel ended. Everything went dark. When he regained consciousness, he wasn't himself anymore—he was a newborn child.

For days, he couldn't do much but observe. The room's furnishings, the people with their colorful hair and medieval clothing, and their incomprehensible language all pointed to an ancient European setting. His mind buzzed with grand plans: should he aim to conquer the Americas? Or start an industrial revolution and amass wealth?

By the time he reached one years old, he had learned to walk and speak. Slowly, reality began to take shape. The language spoken was the Common Tongue, not any European dialect. The castle he called home was Storm's End. His eldest brother, Robert Baratheon, was the lord of this keep; his stern-faced second brother was Stannis Baratheon. Sharing a nursery with him was his twin brother, Renly Baratheon. That was when it hit him—this wasn't medieval Europe. He had been reborn into the world of Game of Thrones.

And his name? Wright Baratheon. A twin to Renly, a person who hadn't existed in the original history of this world.

The realization was jarring. Westeros was a land of knights and honor, but it was equally rife with treachery—poisonings, ambushes, and conspiracies. A low-magic world, but high in danger.

He recalled watching the Game of Thrones series. The Baratheons, though one of the great houses of the Seven Kingdoms and even producing a king, had been a textbook example of self-destruction. By the end, the entire House was wiped out, save for a few bastards.

A dangerous legacy, indeed.

Doing the math, his birthday was the same as Renly's—278 AC. Robert would die at six and thirty name days in 298 AC. Renly would follow in 299 AC at one and twenty. Stannis's death, while harder to pinpoint, would occur during his Northern campaign. That left him with only about two decades to live if things played out the same way.

The butterfly effect needed to begin flapping its wings—starting now.

Like other predecessors of transmigration, he began experimenting with all kinds of methods to uncover a possible "golden finger" cheat system. A month later, while being held by a maid and stargazing, his golden finger finally activated: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim system.

However, the systems of Skyrim and Westeros had merged into a single entity. What remained were skills, magic, and dragon shouts; items from the game were nowhere to be found. The rules of the two worlds collided, leaving the game system somewhat incomplete. Still, being born into a noble House with black hair and black eyes and retaining even a portion of the system was a great start. He reminded himself that earlier transmigrators had crossed over with nothing but a pair of underwear and had to chew on sweet potatoes to survive. Gratitude was key.

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Now, back to the present. He shakily climbed out of bed after dinner and insisted that the maid take him to the top of the castle's tower to stargaze. After the afternoon's debacle, the previous maids had been punished, and his new caretakers were far more vigilant, never leaving his side.

Storm's End was built on a cliff, dominated by a colossal circular tower that seemed to pierce the sky even from a distance. The tower housed a library, granary, barracks, armory, banquet hall, and countless rooms for the lord and his retainers. At the very top was a rookery for ravens. The structure could shelter over a thousand people during times of war, though its seaward side had no windows.

The outer walls were massive, towering, and smooth. Their width was sufficient for four horse-drawn carriages to run side by side. Between the walls and the central tower lay the inner ward, which held stables, kitchens, smithies, training grounds, gardens, and even a secret passage leading to the sea below. Storm's End was one of the Seven Kingdoms' most impenetrable fortresses, its defenses unyielding to all but an adult dragon.

When Wright reached the rooftop terrace, the sun was already setting. From the battlements, he looked out. One side of the castle faced its lands, with a road leading from the main gate to a distant horizon. Closer to the fortress, clusters of stone workshops, houses, inns, brothels, taverns, and shops sprawled outward. Workers bustled around an open area where carriages delivered materials for constructing a grand tournament ground and viewing stands. A Baratheon-hosted tourney was a significant event, and preparations always began early.

The other side of the castle faced Shipbreaker Bay, whose name alone hinted at countless wrecks. But tonight, the waters were calm, and the skies clear enough to see the stars. A maid laid a blanket on the ground for the little boy to lie down and stargaze.

As Wright gazed at the stars, the system's benefits became apparent. Even incomplete, it granted him a vivid sense of his lifeforce, stamina, and a new awareness of magic within his body.

The system's experience mechanics worked like in Skyrim—skills improved through practice. Every three skill upgrades granted a free attribute point, which could either add 10 points to an attribute or enhance a skill level.

He focused his magic, but there was no awe-inspiring starry skill tree like in the game, nor were there health, stamina, or Magicka bars. Instead, a few sparse lines of text appeared in his mind:

Name: Wright Baratheon

Age: Two year and four months.

Attributes (Adult Average: 100):

Health 50

Magicka 100

Stamina 50

Combat Skills (Max Level: 100):

One-Handed 5

Two-Handed 5

Block 5

Archery 5

Light Armor 5

Heavy Armor 0

Magic Skills:

Destruction 0

Restoration 0

Alteration 0,

Conjuration 0

Illusion 0

Alchemy 4

Enchanting 0

Life Skills:

Speech 15

Lockpicking 5

Pickpocket 5

Sneak 5

Smithing 5

Free Points: 19

Talents: Dragonborn, Broken Item Space, Magical Affinity

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The tourney at Storm's End originally occurred in 277 AC to celebrate Robert's sixteenth name day. For this story's purposes, the timeline has shifted to 280 AC.