On a soft bed

Bran slowly opened his eyes as he woke up. He quickly noticed how things felt wrong all over. How soft his thighs were when pressed together or how the fabric brushed against his chest. The Stark closed his eyes and let one of his hands confirm if the night before had been real or not. He reached between his legs. Nothing but the feeling of his fingers scraping against his crotch. No sign of his manhood.

"No..." He whispered in Sansa's voice. How could something like that be possible? Magic was something you told to young children when it was time for them to go to bed. Not... this.

The Northener didn't want to get out of the covers, ashamed of what he would probably find. Mustering all his courage, one swift motion and he was sitting at the edge of the bed. Bran looked down and was unsettled by the fact that his view of his legs was partially blocked by his sister's well-endowed bust and strands of auburn hair.

Bare feet, Bran made his way to the shoddy dresser, unable to believe the reflection that greeted him. When he stared at the mirror, Sansa and her vivid blue eyes stared right back.

He noticed a tear on his sister's eyes. The 'lord' had missed her image so much, but that was not how he wanted to see her face again. Being **** to stay in her body. Bran felt the strength on his legs waver and sat on the stool right next to him. A mess of long thick auburn hair getting on his face. He didn't expect it would be so cushy.

As he settled Sansa's long hair, the Stark's mind started to wonder. Why had they done this to him? What could they want with him in this state? The truth was that he was afraid of what those answers might be. The nature of this dark situation dictated that his captors' motives must've been equally dark.

He decided to take in his surroundings a bit better to get his mind out of those depressive thoughts. Besides the bed, dresser and wardrobre, there was nothing much else to look at. He noticed how the large windows were blocked with metal bars. The chamber-pot clearly indicated that he was expected to stay there for some time, making it so that Bran didn't even bother to check if the door was locked.

His eyes wondered back at the mirror. Sansa was still there, a concerned look on her face and tears still there. As he wiped them, he couldn't help but admit how beautiful his sister was. He was now, he supposed. And then a thought crossed his head. His sibling's face went red, and it wasn't because of her crying.

It was wrong to see her naked. He should respect her memory. But then again, this was his body and no one seemed to be around to catch him. Maybe if he stayed quiet...