The gentle Sansa

"Sansa..." He responded. She was the gentler of his siblings and the most beautiful. Those things in a woman could inspire many things on men. It inspired him to get out of his hiding in Greywater Watch to try and save her. But he failed. She was also the eldest, and the first to inherit his father's domain after his youngest brother, Rickon.

"Thank you for your honesty, lord Stark." Melisandre, as he had heard it, spoke.

And with that he was left alone in his dark cell. Bran mulled over what he was told. The last living Stark. Hearing those news, that Sansa had died particularly hurt him. He wished he'd told her while he still had the chance, even if she was disgusted by his confession. He wished he'd told her how beautiful she was. How much he wanted to smell her hair and hold her on his arms at night.

But now she was dead.

And his brother Robb, and his father, and his mother too. Rickon and Arya were still missing, but it was likely that they were also dead. He felt tears streaming down his face. He wished that Meera was with him to console him.

Gods, how stupid he was to think he could save her alone. All that when she wasn't even alive in the first place. At least he wouldn't be in a dark cell in gods-know-where.

He was angry, but even his **** had been denied once he'd been told that the scum that had done it was already killed.

His anger gave way to sadness, and his sadness gave way to tiredness and before Bran could've notice, he fell asleep on the cold and hard floor.