A scream of pain was ripped from his throat, hoarse and full of agony. His right hand thrust against his chest, clutching the clothing over his heart. Muscles so tense his back had arched from the bed. His blood felt like fire and his skin like ice as he sucked in a trembling breath and stared into the darkness. His heart ached, he could feel the freezing blade still, piercing his heart.

Sorrow filled blue eyes, red hair, flesh being ripped from her face.

Lingering notes of 'The Rains of Castamere' played in his head.

A whimper in the corner drew his dark eyes to meet red.

Ghost was watching him, knowledge in those red eyes made Jon's blood run cold.

Jon left that night, eight days ago. Stirring slumbering wildlings to follow him with the promise of a feast, wine and blood.

It was silly, he knew. Leaving The Wall because of a dream, or rather a nightmare.

But the cold bite of steel had been so real and he knew it was his brother on the receiving end of that thrust of steel. He'd heard rumours Lady Stark had not returned to Winterfell to Bran and Rickon but instead marched with Robb.

He had seen Catelyn clearly. And he's seen the flesh being torn from her face.

As they rode, to he had not known then to where, men spoke of Blackfish being wed to Frey. A Frey Robb was to marry so he'd set course for The Twins.

The horses were tied to trees in The Neck, Ghost padded silently as Jon and the wildlings moved the last few hours on foot.

Jon moved by instinct alone. He did not know if this was where his nightmare took place but it felt right.

As they approached music could be heard through the window. Though it wasn't 'The Rains of Castamere' fear froze him, it's icy fist clenching around his heart.

Ghost pranced and his legs took steps of their own accord. Jon had never seen The Twins but as they loomed above him now he felt a darkness closing in and knew time was running out.

The door had been barred so he and six others climbed. Foot by foot until each man climbed through a window. Ghost pranced in circles below, the wildlings by the door stood with their weapons ready.

The music drifted into silence as he walked through the unknown halls, turning left and right. Not knowing where he was going until he saw the gallery through an archway. Crossbows laid at the feet of musicians as they began to play 'The Rains of Castamere'.

Then he saw her, Lady Stark. Only a glimpse before she disappeared past the ledge of the gallery. She seemed to be rushing after someone. He couldn't see Robb though.

The music changed, drums and flutes had been dropped. Musicians were swapping their instruments of music for instruments of a different sort.

Jon took a breath, drew long claw and stepped through the archway. The wildlings followed wordlessly.

A single swing was all it took to erupt everything into chaos. A woman playing a flute screamed as one man's blood sprayed her face, soiled her hair and dress. There was yelling below now. An old man seem distressed and he couldn't hear Robb's voice, or Lady Stark's. He stepped to the edge of the gallery, looked down.

He saw his brother but the flash of Lady Stark's hair drew his eyes and he saw a man moving behind her as she moved towards Robb, her mouth moved but he couldn't hear the words.

Jon climbed the rail and dropped.

Catelyn heard the tumble of men behind her and saw the curls of thick black hair, gloved hands and a cape of fur she'd never seen before.

Jon looked up, he met Catelyn's eyes and she seemed unable to comprehend seeing her late husband's bastard.

His dark eyes left her usual hateful gaze to find Robb. "ROBB!" He yelled, his brother turned, seeming lost and more so when he saw Jon. "Door! Open the door!"

Robb moved quickly, he'd learned in battle to just move, Jon thought.

Just as Robb moved an bold struck the wall, it should have struck Robb in the belly and the close call made Jon flinch.

Jon turned and looked to the gallery where the crossbow wielder now took aim at Lady Stark. He stretched his hand forward, grabbed her ankle and pulled. She fell onto the hard stone floor but the bolt had missed it mark. A bruise healed, he thought.

As the door opened the two dozen wildlings he took with him stormed inside, bloody and trampling over the dead Freys and Frey's men-at-arms.

An elbow caught Jon in the jaw but didn't manage to get him off of the man he'd first toppled onto. He'd actually forgot he was half-laying on the man. Longclaw laid on the ground a few feet from him so he drew his dagger and slid the blade across the man's throat. Blood wet his gloves.

Catelyn watched him as he stood and he moved towards her. "Lady Stark," he said then nodded to a table, he knew she wouldn't cower though.

He turned his attention to the gallery, no more crossbows were pointing downwards.

Frey's men still fought, but now the wildlings and Robb's men outnumbered them. Jon picked up Longclaw and moved to the cluster of men, cutting down the men fighting against the wildlings.

As quick as it had started, the Frey's had fallen quicker. Jon's eyes scanned the carnage then fell on the feeble old man on his chair where'd he plan to watch his brother's murder.

His blood slicked glove clenched around the hilt of Longclaw.

"Jon."

Jon's grip loosened as he looked at Robb, his brother stepped closer to him. He sheathed Longclaw and threw his arms around his brother, embracing him tightly as Robb did the same.

"How are you here?" Robb questioned.

"I had a dream. I felt a sword to my heart and I knew it was you," he said truthfully, releasing Robb from his embrace.

Robb's Tully blue eyes stared into his own Stark grey ones and Robb's mouth tugged up at a corner. "A dream? You break your vows for a dream?"

"Then I guess it's good I saved the King of the North," he offered, a smile touching his own lips.

Robb's gaze moved from his own to someone past his shoulder. Jon turned and found Lady Stark's intense eyes, her gaze unreadable.

"Lady Stark," he said, his smile fading as he bowed his head slightly.

"You bastard," she breathed out, he had no time to react to the words as she placed her warm hands on either side of his face and his head was pulled forward. Her lips met his just as he was to open his mouth to speak.

His eyes had gone wide and he half-expected to feel a blade going through his heart, Robb's.

But he caught the blur of white just to the side of his vision and as his father's widow had her lips pressed against his own, Ghost and Grey Wind sat side by side, heads cocked to the side, confused.

The crackle of the old man drew everyone's attention and as Catelyn's lips left his Jon breathed slowly, unsure of what had just happened.

Jon followed Lady Stark's gaze though and rested on the old man. His eyes moved to Ghost and with a quick motion of his head, the great white direwolf and his brother moved in for the kill, and snack.

The wildlings were enjoying their feast and wine that had been left unspoiled on the tables in the Frey's hall.

"Thank you Jon, thank you," Catelyn said as Lord Frey's screams began. He opened his mouth to speak again but found himself speechless as her arms moved around him, this show of affection more innocent then the last but one look at his brother and the warm smile on Robb's lips melted that last bit of icy fear which lingered on his heart.