A parallel would be if Sansa and Petyr had a kid who became the lord of Winterfell and the Stark line would finally be infused with some intelligence.
There is some speculation that Sweet Robin as actually LF's son with Lysa as it's more than likely that they had sex when they were together in King's Landing. And Sans/Alayne is now a surrogate mother for Sweet Robin. So, this does make the theory a stronger parallel when you throw this into the mix.
A cold gust of wind blew up her legs. She went inside to choose a gown to break her fast in. Petyr had given her his late wife’s wardrobe, a wealth of silks, satins, velvets, and furs far
beyond anything she had ever dreamed, though the great bulk of it was far too large for her; Lady Lysa had grown very stout during her long succession of pregnancies, stillbirths, and miscarriages. A few of the oldest gowns had been made for young Lysa Tully of Riverrun, however
“You were wed to Tyrion Lannister, Petyr says. That vile dwarf.”
“They made me marry him. I never wanted it.”
“No more than I did,” her aunt said. “Jon Arryn was no dwarf, but he was old. You may not think so to see me now, but on the day we wed I was so lovely I put your mother to shame. But all Jon desired was my father’s swords, to aid his darling boys. I should have refused him, but he was such an old man, how long could he live? Half his teeth were gone, and his breath smelled like bad cheese. I cannot abide a man with foul breath. Petyr’s breath is always fresh... he was the first man I ever kissed, you know. My father said he was too lowborn, but I knew how high he’d rise. Jon gave him the customs for Gulltown to please me, but when he increased the incomes tenfold my lord husband saw how clever he was and gave him other appointments, even brought him to King’s Landing to be master of coin. That was hard, to see him every day and still be wed to that old cold man. Jon did his duty in the bedchamber, but he could no more give me pleasure than he could give me children. His seed was old and weak. All my babies died but Robert, three girls and two boys. All my sweet little babies dead, and that old man just went on and on with his stinking breath. So you see, I have suffered too.” Lady Lysa sniffed.
Its not even clear whether they were sleeping together.
“And I of you, my lady.” He slid an arm around behind her and kissed her on the neck. “How soon can we be wed?”
“Now,” said Lady Lysa, sighing. “I’ve brought my own septon, and a singer, and mead for the wedding feast.”
“Here?” That did not please him. “I’d sooner wed you at the Eyrie, with your whole court in attendance.”
“Poo to my court. I have waited so long, I could not bear to wait another moment.” She put her arms around him. “I want to share your bed tonight, my sweet. I want us to make another child, a brother for Robert or a sweet little daughter.”
“I dream of that as well, sweetling. Yet there is much to be gained from a great public wedding, with all the Vale -”
“No.” She stamped a foot. “I want you now, this very night. And I must warn you, after all these years of silence and whisperings, I mean to scream when you love me. I am going to scream so loud they’ll hear me in the Eyrie!”
“Perhaps I could bed you now, and wed you later?”
The Lady Lysa giggled like a girl. “Oh, Petyr Baelish, you are so wicked. No, I say no, I am the Lady of the Eyrie, and I command you to wed me this very moment!”
Sometimes I wonder if the Sansa people are making up their own story as they go along, a lot of these theories, are more in fan fiction than analysis.
Edited by Lord Littlefinger's Lash, 09 May 2012 - 10:58 AM.