Jon closed his eyes as he felt the cold sleep into his bones, the chill of the wind beyond the wall threatening to steal his soul. He tried to ignore the cold, and fall into a slumber. His breathing evened and Jon soon found himself in Winterfell. It was dark, dreary, it was raining, and thunder clapped above. He walked into the castle in an attempt to warm himself. He heard voices, cheering. The sound of men lost in their drink, a feast of celebration. He followed the voices and soon found himself at the door of the great hall. Jon walked closer to the door and listened. He could hear the women giggling and laughing. Men sharing stories of their conquests. Something told jon to leave, a feeling in his gut told him he did not belong here. He felt misplaced, and he was consumed by fear. His heart beat fast and his breathing was labored. He turned away from the door with every intention to leave and then, he heard his fathers voice. He ran to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. He was desperate, he needed to see his father.

"You don't belong here".

Jon turned toward the voice, and there stood Robb. Handsome as always in his royal garb, the Young Wolf, the King of the North. He forgot about his fear. Jon was consumed by joy, he ran towards his brother and embraced him in a crushing hug.

"Robb, is that you?"

"Aye, brother. It is me" he said with a smile.

"What in the hells are you doing here? In my dreams?"

"I think the question is, what are you doing here?"

All joy left Jon's body. He felt like he had been dipped in ice water, his soul sucked out of him. Dread consumed him once more, and again realized he should not be here.

"What are you talking about Robb?"

A beat passed. The tension in the air was thick.

"You shouldn't be here"

"What makes you say that?"

"He's right you know, you shouldn't be here. You don't belong here" Jon turned to the third voice. It was little Rickon, but he was older. He was dressed in wildlings clothes, his hair a mess.

"Rickon? What are you doing here?"

Rickon had a cold blank stare to his eyes, the look of terror frozen on his face.

"I know why I am here brother, but why are you here?"

Jon turns to Robb.

"I don't understand."

"You're not supposed to be here Jon, you don't belong here"

"Why not?"

"Because the living do not feast among the dead." Jon was confused, what does that mean? There was a clap of thunder a strike of lightning. He was blinded for a moment, the world seemed to spin. He was never more terrified of anything than he was in this moment. He looked up as saw Robb and his heart almost have way at what he saw.

"I told you brother, the living do not feast among the dead."

It was Robb but it wasn't. He was seated upon a horse, with blood flowing down his chest. The head of his wolf Grey Wind sewed to his shoulders. Jon fell back, he felt the need to hurl.

"Your dead?"

"Yes." Jon turns to Rickon, little rickon so sweet an innocent. He now has arrows sticking out of his back, another arrow coming in from the skull on protruding out his left eye.

"Rickon, what happened to you?"

"I cant tell you that."

"You're dead too?"

A flash of light night struck again. Robb and Rickon returned to their normal states.

"Not yet. But I will be."

"Who else is here?" Jon asks.

"Mother, father, grandpa rickard, uncle Brandon, aunt lyanna. All of us are here, we are waiting for you."

Jon turned to Robb.

"I'm going to die?"

"No, not for a while at least. Like I said, you need to go. Keep warm brother."

No. Jon had to see father. He had to, he had to tell him he was sorry.

"No, I have to see father."

"You will see your father, and your mother. They feast in the hall and they patiently wait for your return, you will know the truth. In time. Wake up now, brother."

The world spun around him, he tried to claw at the dirt anything to keep him where he was. Yes, he was terrified, but he would give anything to be with his family once more. Lightning struck again, rickon was once again blood stained, and Robb once again had become one with his wolf. He heard screams within the hall. Men, women, children alike. The sound of fighting, the smell of burning wood, of burning flesh. He saw green flames lick the bottom the door from the hall. Blood poured out from the ground below him. Rickon looked at jon and said,

"Death is coming, and he is the greatest enemy of all. Remember that."

Jon woke with a start. His breathing labored, his heartbeat is fast, his bollocks half frozen to himself. He couldn't think, he couldn't feel anything except fear. The fear of death.