A/N: Got this idea after reading up on the book series and thought it might be interesting. Enjoy :)

Bran knew that he was dreaming despite feeling the wind on his face and hearing the rustle of the trees. Despite the vivid sensations the fact was the same. It was a dream because he was standing tall in front of the weirwood. Yet it was a pleasant mockery as far as he was concerned. He turned around to see the sun hanging in the middle of a cloudless sky.

But then two things happened instantly. Bran's attention was first brought to the southern horizon which had become a dark red. Vague silhouettes darted back and forth, the sounds of battle came over the winds. Robb is fighting he thought and was filled with worry. He went to run towards the battle, to try and help his family, but his legs would not move.

It was then that the second incident made itself known. Bran felt a cold wind blow on his back from the north. This cold however was un-natural, it pierced his clothes and chilled his bones, one would almost say it froze him to the spot instantly.

Turning Bran saw the northern sky had become a dark blue. The most disturbing thing though was the contrast to the noise from the south. In the north, there was no sound. No birds, no foraging animals, not even the brushing of leaves. Everything was covered in snow, all of it undisturbed. The combination of it all gave Bran only one impression; he was looking at a massive graveyard.

A figure seemed to detach itself from the shadow of a tree. Bran once more tried to force himself to move, any direction, just to get away. The shadow moved practically effortlessly through the snow leaving no trace. Its blue eyes shared the same deafening cold that permeated the north.

A large cry from the south tore Bran away from the freezing gaze. The battle had seemed to have moved closer though the combatants remained a vague shape. The banner bearing the direwolf of house Stark rose above the others, tattered and broken. Another cry rang out and the banner was cut down.

"No!" Bran cried. "Robb? Mother?".

Then another wind blew through and cut away all sounds again. As Bran turned back he saw that the snow had reached the weirwood and his feet. The shadow was now joined by others of his kind and they all held thin blades made of ice. The leader gestured at his feet.

In a way Bran knew before he looked down. There by the creature's feet, half buried in the snow, was Jon, Uncle Benjen and what he assumed was the rest of the Night's Watch. The cold became unbearable and Bran fell to his knees. He felt the tears falling down his cheeks and become ice.

The leader stepped over the bodies and was soon looming over Bran. It raised its sword and placed it gently against Bran's left shoulder.

"Winter... is here... all will be ours". The voice resonated everywhere but remained a whisper in Bran's ear. "Our empire... will be built on your frozen bones..."

The ice sword left Bran's shoulder. He looked up and saw the creature holding it high with both hands preparing to slice the boy in two. He scrunched his face, clenched his hands and prayed to be brave for his family.

Then it all disappeared. The snow, the battle, the cold and the creatures. Bran span his head around as he felt the warmth return to his body. Nothing but the godswood remained visible. He stood up, wanting this dream to be over. To wake up in his bed and be scoled by Maester Luwin or his Septa for over-sleeping.

The silence was broken again. Not by battle, but by song. A woman singing a lullaby in the Old Tongue. Bran looked around but could see nothing else but the trees surrounding him. The song grew louder and the trees began to sway gently again.

Then the song became much closer. Bran turned back to face the weirwood. The singing stopped as a tall slim woman stepped from behind the tree. Her skin was tanned and in contrast to the cold creature her eyes were a bright gold that radiated warmth. Her clothes seemed to be made from leaves, grass and various plants but there were no stitches or ribbons holding them together. She had dark red hair which fell about her shoulders in waves.

She knelt down and held out her hand. "It is okay. We will protect our forests. We will protect you".

Bran didn't even notice that he had began walking towards the strange woman. He held out his hand to take her's. It was strange, in place of the despairing loneliness that had been suffocating Bran there was now a calming peace.

"Young master Stark" Luwin's voice broke through as Bran's eyes snapped open.

Sitting up he saw the maester standing over him with Osha sitting on the edge of the bed. Luwin looked at her for a minute and raised his eyebrows.

"Are... are you feeling well today my lord?" he asked.

"Ugh... yes maester. Why do you ask?"

"Osha here raised quite the alarm only moments ago..." Luwin started but was cut off when Osha leapt up from her seat.

"He was thrashing around and yelling the roof down! I'm no liar!" she snapped.

"I didn't say you were" he replied with that understanding tone Bran never knew anyone else to do. "She ran down the halls calling for help. She apparently tried to calm you but to no avail"

"Got me pretty good and all" Osha pointed to her cheek and Bran saw a the beginnings of a bruise appearing there. "You were going mad. Trying to escape something I'd say".

Bran could still feel his heart beating fast and hard in his chest. Another strange and vivid dream... the last time this happened it was... he stopped that thought and shook his head.

"Did you have a nightmare young master?" Luwin asked placing his hand on Bran's shoulder.

"Yes... yes I dreamt that... that I was only. That mother, Robb and the girls were gone. I was all alone in the dark" Bran said.

Luwin nodded. "I'll see if there's anything the Septa has that might calm the nerves. Failing that maybe something special from the larder" he smiled and left.

Osha however looked less then convinced. She shuffled over to Bran's side, her wild eyes darting around, searching for the answer on his face.

"That ain't the whole of it though?" she said, reading the worry in Bran's eyes.

"Just.. just help me to the hall. I want some breakfast" he asked. Osha didn't raise the matter as she helped him out of bed.

The rest of the day seemed to blur. Lessons, meetings meals, all of it just faded into one quick motion. All the time Bran's thoughts were on his dream. Winter is Coming he recited the motto in his head when thinking of the cold shadow. Could it be the White Walkers? But they're just a story...? However the most pressing thoughts though became that of the battle and its meaning, and of the strange singing woman from the forest.