In a gilded cell

Bran's eyes went wide open as soon as he woke up. He turned on his bed to violently remove his covers. He desperately hoped that encounter with Melisandre to be just a dream. To his horror, the image he registered did not corroborate that. He was greeted with a petite body wearing a gown. The Stark could see and feel his own small mounds pushing against the fabric. One of his hands went between his legs, he had to be sure.

Nothing.

"No!" He screamed in Arya's voice. That couldn't be happening. That couldn't be real. Magic like that couldn't exist, shouldn't exist.

The impostor sat up and got out of the large bed. Bran's bare feet touched the cold floor and made his way to a shoddy-looking dresser. The mirror greeted him with a reflection of his new self. A reflection of his sibling to be more precise.

He looked every inch his sister. His new size, messy brown-hair that reached his shoulders, his long face. Even the new colour of his eyes matched hers. The image in the mirror mimicked the gesture he made with his hand, which was about to touch his cheek. Sure enough, he felt his soft skin under his fingertips and the Arya in front of him held nothing but an unbelieving expression.

Bran started pacing around. That couldn't be. Was he his sister now? He very much remembered his life as... well, himself. That last night really happened. A witch had done this to him. Why had they turned him into his sibling? For what reason? It was no mystery to the Northerner that Stannis and the red woman had something in store for him. And he did not like it.

Looking around, Bran found that the windows that bathed the room with sunlight were blocked with iron bars. He tried many times, but the heavy black door was locked. He called in Arya's voice, but apparently there was no one there to hear him. He imagined that if there was, they didn't seem to want to help him.

Stressed and upset, he sat on the stool in front of the dresser. The Stark saw his sister's reflection, his reflection, from the corner of his eyes. It didn't take too long for him to realize that he hadn't fully observed what Melisandre's spell had left him with. Bran's curiosity was sparked by the fact that he had never seen Arya naked before and the feeling of what he imagined were his breasts against the soft fabric of his gown became more apparent.

The Northener would've been appalled by the idea, since he'd never expected to find himself in this situation. But the more thought he put into it, the less arguments he had for not going through with it. The windows were blocked and the door was locked. He was not getting out of there through brute ****, and he doubted his captors were stupid enough to leave something that would've helped with that endeavor. Gods knew if there was someone standing outside. Perhaps he could get away with getting naked for a few minutes.