He dreams of food and drink, song and laughter. He dreams of cold steel sliding into his chest and his mother screaming. He dreams of the smell of iron in the air, masquerading every other smell. He dreams of red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red until a voice breaks through his dreams.
The morning breeze is cool and salty and Jon's arms are strong around his chest. He has injured himself in his sleep before so now Jon pins him down until he wakes up.
The red leaves his vision slowly, draining away against the blue of the sky and the black of Jon's hair.
"It's fine, you're alive, you're here, it's fine", Jon whispers over and over again until Robb's eyes clear and he hears the words.
The scar on his chest aches.
"Jon", Robb whispers, needing to believe that this is real.
"It's over, Robb. You're alive, you're here", Jon repeats and rests his hand over Robb's heart. It's warm and that warmth spreads through his chest and eases his pain. But it's not enough. Robb needs more, needs to feel alive.
"Jon", he says again and tips Jon's face downwards.
In the morning sun Jon's hair gleams like dragon glass, no trace of red anywhere but in Robb's dreams.
Jon understands him. He covers Robb's body with his own and litters his skin with kisses. Fire spreads through Robb and he closes his eyes to savour it. They're still naked from last time. The nights are warm enough not to bother with clothes if they don't want to. Robb usually does. If he cannot erase the scar on his chest as least he doesn't want to see it.
Under Jon's hands and mouth Robb's body remembers what it feels like to be young and passionate and grabbing the world with both hands.
With Jon he feels alive and there's no red at all.