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I don’t know if you guys will appreciate this as an alternate ending, or if it’s too much for even you. But here it is. I call it “Bran the Not-So Broken” I know it’s longer than what you advised, sorry. An artist can’t trim his creative fat that easily though.

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Although Bran the Broken had ushered in an era of relative peace to the people of Westeros, something was disturbing him. Whenever problems arose, he would usually either consult with his small council or turn to his meditations to try to resolve the issue before him. There was one matter gnawing at him which he knew his council could not be trusted to confide in, and which his meditations only exacerbated. He summoned a scribe to write a message to his sister, Queen Sansa of the North:

“Sansa – an urgent matter has arisen that requires your presence in my court. I will explain when the time is right. Bran.”

The message was dutifully sent on a raven to Winterfell. When Sansa received Bran’s letter, her interest was piqued. “Bran never requests my presence…it must be something urgent indeed.” Her journey to the capital was mostly uneventful, save for the horseride itself. When her faithful mare walked or trotted a bit faster than previously, it sent mysterious waves up through the saddle, and onto the lower half of the rider. Although Sansa did like the ticklish sensation on her most sacred of spaces, she quickly pushed it out of her mind and would try to steel herself against these pulses of joy. “I am Sansa, Queen of the North” would be her mantra that she chanted whenever this would happen.

When she arrived at the capital, she marvled at what a marvelous job her brother the King had done in rebuilding. She rode up to the castle gates and was quickly allowed entry. After brief but warm greetings to her old friends Tyrion and Brienne, she proceeded to enter Bran’s throne room. “Bran, it is wonderful to see you – although I am a bit confused at you summoning me.” Bran listened intently, and stared even more intently. “Sansa, we need to address you bending the knee” Bran the Broken declared. His sister looked a bit taken aback. “Bran, wasn’t this already addressed? Were you not at the kings moot where everything was settled? Or were you off again on one of your daft spiritual journeys?” Bran then ordered his guards out of the room. “You see, sister, that’s the thing – my visions are precisely why I called you here.”

Sansa was now even more puzzled than before and proceed to probe. “Bran, I told you – I will not bend the knee and you seemed to agree. What on earth could your visions have to do with any of this?” Bran stared at her. Sansa could tell her was about to say something both profound and vague at the same time. He kept staring at her for several long minutes. He then proceeded to speak. “Sansa, I am cursed. Everyone thinks that when I greensee, I am on a. metaphysical journey. The sad truth is something much more mundane. I have been having visions of you bending the knee. So bend the knee you must.”
Sansa was feeling very confused and more than a little bit annoyed. “Bran, I will not ben-.” Before she could finish her sentence, Bran interrupted. “Yes, yes, you will bend the knee. You will either bend it to me as your king, or you will bend it to me while you suck my cock – the choice is yours.” Sansa was beyond belief. “Could this really be happening?” she thought to herself. “Bran heard her thoughts and replied “yes, Sansa. This is really happening.”

“You see, my sister,” he continued, “I have been having the most vivid visions I’ve ever had so far, and they all have you in them. We are together, as man and woman, doing the thing men and women are apt to do. It is most glorious, most delicious.” As he spoke these words, Sansa started to feel her knees shaking, and her body loosening up. She wondered if the journey to see him and made her not right in the head, if the horseride had permeated her pussy not only with the transient joys of a bumpy ride, but with a longing for something more, something personal. She had a thirst that she knew must be quenched, however forbidden. She resorted to her mantra yet again “I am Sansa, Queen of the North.” Sansa had to make one more stand. “Bran,” she said, “This can not happen, we are family.” “There is no family,” Bran replied.

Sansa inched closer to her brother. “Bran, let’s put this crazy idea out of our heads, let’s pretend you never said this. I am Sansa, Queen of the North. This cannot happen.” As she said these words, she felt her body get closer and closer to her brother, unable to resist. She hugged him, and felt once again the pulsating waves of joy reverberate throughout her being. The hug got tighter, more intimate. Bran could not resist, and kissed her neck. With this one kiss, Sansa melted. She kissed him back, very passionately. Soon, they were a tangled mess of wetness and hotness on his wheeled throne. Having seen white walkers, weights, and a host of human demons far worse, Sansa now saw something more terrifying than all of them combined. Bran’s cock, fully hard, was poking through his robes. “My God,” murmured Sansa, “What is this monstrosity!? It is SO big!!” Bran replied – “this monstrosity is the royal scepter, and you shall worship it – BEND THE KNEE!”

With this, Sansa had lost any trepidation she had going into his room. She devoured the royal scepter wholeheartedly, eagerly licking and sucking every nook and cranny. Bran made no signs of appreciation, nor any sounds usually associated with what Sansa was doing. Yet Sansa knew he liked it, for his usual blank stare had been replaced by a twinkle in his eyes. Sansa was dripping wet and knew that she had to slake the thirst right away. She ripped all of her clothes off, and sat on his cock. Because it was so big, she could only fit onto it half way, even with her whole body mounting it. She giggled, thinking of how exciting the horseride was at the time, now thinking of that as child’s play. She was in pure ecstasy. She wanted to moan loudly and scream even louder, but she worried it would attract the attention of Tyrion. She knew that little fucker would want to join in with them, perhaps even Brienne would too. Even though Bran had lost all ability below the waste, his royal scepter took on a life of its own. It penetrated her deeper and deeper. By now, Bran was making quiet but enthusiastic grunting noises before evacuating his royal essence inside of her.

When their lovemaking was over, Bran spoke. “Sister, I have an idea.” he said. ” “Yes, you will remain Queen of an independent North. But I will Knight you as a member of my secret court, that only you and I know about.” He stared long and hard at her, before continuing. “Kneel before me, Queen Sansa of the North,” he proclaimed. Holding his now placid royal scepter with both hands, he began what resembled a knighting ceremony. He tapped her on the forehead with it and said – “In the name of the Mother, I command you to show mercy on lonely travelers wherever you meet them. Sexually satisfy them to their heart’s content and give them whatever they so desire.” Sansa was awestruck at this declaration and resisted every urge in her body to engulf his member with her mouth again. He continued, tapping her on top of the head with it this time – “In the name of the Father, I command you to show Justice. If you ever encounter a man or woman who was sexually betrayed by their lover, I command you to find the offending person and mutilate their genitals beyond recognition. Yes, you may have your fun with them first, should you so desire. But bite the cocks off when you’re done, and nip the clits off with your teeth so they may never have lustful urges again.” With this, the ceremony was complete. “Rise, Ser Sansa” he ordered. She dutifully rose. “Maybe I was wrong about Bran not being able to father any children” Sansa thought to herself. Their eyes then locked, staring at each other. Both wondering what was to come next.

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