“Dear Penthouse…” By Bran Stark
I can see everything, and I mean EVERYTHING.
Dear Penthouse,
I never thought this would happen to me… Not only have I, Bran of House Stark, The Three-Eyed Raven, been gifted with the power to see any moment in history through weirwood trees, but also, I discovered I can use my powers for something far more valuable than saving Westeros: spying on the women of the Seven Kingdoms when they’re bathing, changing, or doing it! It’s incredible — When I close my eyes, I can see any point in the past, present, or future. And everyone knows Westeros is basically all female nudity all the time.
Let me start off by saying that I swear on the graves of my father, mother, brother, and other brother, that I respect women. But as I enter my teenage years, strange things are happening to my body beyond the normal “dreaming about the apocalypse,” and I feel like I should take advantage of these urges before the Long Night devours us all.
You must understand how significant these powers are to a boy like me, who blossomed into puberty more or less alone. For many moons, almost all the girls I met were the reincarnated corpses of wildling women. Though some of their clothing had deteriorated enough to reveal their bosoms, decomposing breasts don’t have the same bounce as live ones. You understand.
Unfortunately, not everyone understands my new gift. People at Winterfell accuse me of seeming “distracted,” “inhuman,” and “as heartless as the White Walkers we so desperately must destroy, which, by the way, shouldn’t you be doing?” Sure, I may be a little inattentive to friends, family, and the White Walkers’ conquest, but only because I’m busy with sexual conquests. Every sexual conquest. Right in front of me. That kind of constant, thrumming lust would sidetrack even the stoic Jon Snow from his mission, and I know that’s true because I watched him get nasty with that redheaded cave girl. Way to invent cunnilingus, cousin-brother!
My sisters don’t get me, either. They want to “be a family” because they “thought I was dead,” but I am not just Bran Stark anymore. I’m Bran Stark and Every Person Who’s Ever Boned! They’re all inside me, and I feel like I’ve been inside all of them. It’s a lot of responsibility. That’s why I’m writing to you, Penthouse, because I knew you would understand how I must use my gift: Sex first, world-saving second, probably more sex third to celebrate saving the world.
Until the final showdown between good and evil comes, I consider it my duty to watch over every single citizen of Westeros, be they lathering their delicate figure near a weirwood tree or visiting a brothel near a weirwood tree. Someday, people will thank me for my help. For now, I will have to make do with what they currently say: “Please tell me this is weirwood sap! My Gods! It’s everywhere!”
Sincerely,
Bran of House Stark
The Three-Eyed-Raven
Luckiest Teenager in the World
