"There are two realities I want to show you, Your Grace…" came Jojen Reed's ethereal voice from a deep fog that Robb suddenly found himself surrounded by. He could feel Grey-Wind by his side, and he could feel the wolf's anxiety at a situation it did not understand.
"What is this, Jojen? Black magic?" Robb called, his voice echoing as though they were in a dark hall.
"No, Your Grace. You, like Bran, have the gift of greenseeing hidden inside you. Your direwolf brings it out of you, and by his side the gift is strongest, yet you still do not know how to use it properly, or how to even control Grey-Wind consciously." Jojen appeared by Robb's side, walking before his King as the fog cleared to reveal that they were in the deep North. Bran, Jojen and a small group of Stark men and Reed men trekked past them, and though Robb could see his brother as clear as day, the image of Bran felt hazy and far away to him as he tried to reach out to it.
"I can only show you what I've seen. These are my visions." Jojen reminded Robb, his voice sounding strained.
"Bran will meet the three-eyed-raven who will give him the gift of skinchanging, which he will bring back to you and the rest of the Starks. This will help you in the Long Night. While Bran is North…" the image of Bran studying keenly at the feet of an old weirwood in a dark, deep cave where what appeared to be a man was being consumed by the very roots of the weirwood tree. The man had long white hair and one empty eye socket where the weirwood roots were growing out of, causing Robb to recoil in horror for a moment before the scene changed once more.
"You will lead a great army west to the Iron Islands…" the image Robb saw before him changed to that of himself on a grand war galley with Brynden Tully and Garlan Tyrell beside him, the three men looked onto a hazy image of the Iron Islands that Robb tried to focus on, before it too was replaced by the image of Robb and his men fighting valiantly on the shores of Pyke as the Greyjoy fleet sank in the seas behind them.
"You will win yet another battle…and you will do as you had desired and as the country needs…you will destroy Pyke and House Greyjoy…" the image changed to that of future-Robb standing before the walls of Pyke with Euron Crow's-Eye kneeling over a block before him. The castle quickly began to burn as Euron was beheaded by future-Robb's sword.
"When you have salted the Iron Islands, you will return to King's Landing with your family in tow…you will be celebrated and loved…you will marry Margaery Tyrell and sire an heir on your wedding night itself…" the hazy images before Robb changed from a burning Pyke and a headless Euron Greyjoy to a montage of Robb riding through the gates of King's Landing as the walls flew banners of House Stark, the image changed to Robb cloaking a beautiful Margaery on their wedding day, before finally Robb saw himself and Margaery in bed with a babe in her arms. Robb's jaw dropped as he took a step forward, wanting the life he saw.
"There is more happiness to come along in this life, Your Grace. But if you make the wrong decisions…as I have seen…" the happy image of Robb, Margaery and a baby changed to that of an army of white-walkers and their undead followers marching through Winterfell where corpses of his family were littered on the ground, he saw screaming citizens, death, chaos and destruction, and finally Margaery's frozen body wrapped in his own frozen arms on the floors of the Red Keep.
"NO!" Robb shouted, trying to move sluggishly through the dream, only to suddenly feel like he was falling very, very fast. With a jerk and a gasp, Robb leaped up in bed as Grey-Wind too leaped to his feet whining.
"Sssh…its ok, boy. Its ok." Robb soothed his direwolf, panting as he did so while a cold sheen of sweat ran down his face. Jojen Reed's last words haunting him
"The decision is yours."
Author's Note: Throwing in some magical elements here.