New Dreams

It had been a long time since he had been visited by the Old Gods.

Robb had almost forgotten what it was like for his mind to be assaulted by dreams and visions of what the future possibly had in store for him. Yet, despite that, there was no chance Robb would ever forget how dangerously vague they could be. He did not know why, perhaps the Old Gods were limited in how they could interfere with the world and so, could never be clear on what he must do. However, the dreams were never clear, never revealing everything and only ever showing snippets of the wider picture forcing him to try and connect the dots as best as he could.

If even a part of the visions could be correctly understood and connected, then they could be a massive boon when making plans. That insight as to what could come would prove monumental in making decisions that could shift the tide of a conflict in his favour and had done so on many occasions. However, it was truly dangerous to base every decision and plan solely around the visions, especially when they could be so easily misinterpreted.

He had paid the price for that mistake once and had since learned his lesson.

It was learning from that terrible mistake which was why he had survived for so long and accomplished what he had.

"The men are ready to depart, your grace." Randyll Tarly spoke, entering his quarters as Robb strapped the thick fur coat around his neck, Grey Wind rising from its bed of furs on the floor.

"What of the riders sent to search the surrounding lands?" Robb wondered. "Have we any new reports." The tunnel leading out from the Crypts of Winterfell was a worrying thing for him to leave unattended to for very long. It was a quick and easy pathway into Winterfell should enemies ever come and while he did not imagine Winterfell would come under siege any time soon, he was not about to leave an opening like that around for long. Not only that, he wanted to know if there were any tracks that could be discovered to find out what had escaped from that prison.

"They have found an opening, not far from the walls to the north. Whoever escaped must have dug their way to the surface in the midst of the night since no one saw anything. Not even the servants made mention of the Bolton guards finding anyone digging a tunnel." Randyll explained. "But...there were some tracks, most were covered by snow, but by the streams, tracks were found."

"But?" Robb questioned.

"The hounds were supposedly acting strange."

"They were afraid." Robb turned, seeing the strange look on Randyll's face.

Randyll paused, before nodding his head. "They were; yes." But despite his curiosity as to how Robb knew, he did not ask.

"No matter." Robb dismissed the matter, well aware that whatever escaped will be long gone by now. "Let us focus on our march north to the Wall. Ending this war is the most important task at hand and I will not have it delayed any further." Moving forwards, Robb grabbed the spiked crown that he had found within the Crypts of Winterfell, handing it over to his squire who held it in one hand, the other extending the Crown of Winter that had been forged upon Robb's coronation. The older crown was then placed in a bag that the squire held in his hands as both he and Randyll watched Robb put the crown upon his temple.

It was an uncomfortable feeling that he had long since gotten used to, the spikes of the swords digging into his temple.

A stark difference from the smooth and comfortable design of the previous Crown of Winter.

His was forged to be a constant reminder of the weight he bore.

The other was designed to be a comfortable display of power.

An obvious difference.

Stepping out into the corridor, Robb marched through the halls of Winterfell, heading towards the courtyard where his steed and the personal guard would be waiting for him. His army numbering in the tens of thousands, waiting outside his walls ready to depart on one last final march to end this war that had gone on for far too long.

Yet his mind wandered.

His thoughts and focus fixated upon those same visions that returned to him once more and Robb questioned what he had seen and what they meant. They showed the future, a possible one perhaps, or maybe the truth of what was to come. Once more, the Old Gods were providing him with the information that could lead him towards a better future, just as they had before this war even began. But these visions could only be of help to him if he made use of the information in the correct way, even though, like always, it was vague and confusing.

A man with bleeding stones atop his head unleashing a storm of winter from the north.

Dragons from a city of shadows raining fire upon the world.

Fire and Ice in a conflict that engulfs the world.

A silver-furred wolf with yellow eyes shedding its skin to reveal a three-eyed crow.

Four visions and there was the possibility of more, he hoped there was.

Robb did not know what they meant nor would he ask others lest they think him mad with talks of visions and Gods. But for now, Robb would wait before he acted to avoid making the same mistake he had in the past when sending Theon to the Ironborn in hopes it would avoid the very event it caused. Instead, he would bide his time, waiting for information to reveal itself that aligned with the information he had before acting while also preparing to defend himself should he not have been able to stop whatever was to come.

He would not act without proof, but never stand idle and defenceless.

Even with the little information he had, Robb had enough information to prepare for things to come.

There was a threat in the north and a threat from the east.

He would not allow himself to be caught unawares or unprepared, but he would also not act recklessly and without proper thought.

So for now, he would wait and bide his time.