That night Ned Stark dreamed about walking through a swarm of dead men.

In the dream, the night was so dark, he could barely make out the features of hundreds of gruesome corpses who sieged the court of Winterfell. The corpses stormed as they thrashed their teeth and other weapons at the few living men who tried to fight them off. He passed a giant corpse who threw off two men who tried to stop it into a broken pile of sharp, wooden stakes.

As he neared the giant skeleton, he noticed a little, dark-haired girl run toward the smiling, burning beast. She reminded him of his little girl, Arya, because she was just as small and just as fierce. The corpse grabbed her and chocked her until she became as stiff as a rag doll.

Ned closed his eyes, wishing he could be anywhere else. Arya. Oh, Arya. Was this an omen of her death?

When he opened them again he was at the Godswood tree. A Godswood tree that was barren without the colorful leaves of summer. This time he stared at dead men far worse than the corpses.

Since the night was darker than ever before, he needed to squint to see the dead men who stood around the Godwood tree like glass sculptures, frozen and unmoving. The blue, glistening creatures stared straight ahead, unmoving.

He followed the frozen creatures to one whose lifeless face froze Ned in place. Before he through the giant corpse killing Arya's replica was the most terrifying part of this nightmare. He was wrong.

This bright creature, while a rough contrast to the dark night, made hope a fantasy. He made the promise of prayer a form of overwhelming despair.

This sleek creature walked towards a wheelchaired bound person that was barely a man. The man must be a fool because he did not move; he simply watched as the inhuman creature walked towards him. The fool did not even flinch when the creature took out a sword from behind his back.

The fool remained unmoving as the sword streamlined towards his chest.

Was this fool supposed to represent Ned? Was it supposed to represent his inability to deny King Robert's demand that he serve him as the Hand of the King?

The sword cut through the fool's chest when a young woman, a mere image of his sister, Lyanna, jumped on his back. He looked closer and saw his sister's proud eyes and then he realized, she was Lyanna, like the earlier girl was Arya.

This dream was trying to tell him something about both of them.

The monster turned, while he used one hand to slice the young man's stomach with his sword, his other hand squeezed Lyanna with its sharp claws. A sharp sound of crunching erupted as the creature chocked Lyanna. Lyanna clenched her jaw and a small dagger appeared in her hand out of thin air. With her tiny hand, she pushed the dagger into the monster.

The monster shattered into an uncountable number of pieces.

For a moment, Ned felt hopeful that the nightmare turned into a happy dream like the fables Maester Luwin told his children where the hero- in this case, the fearless Lyanna - defeated the villain.

But then, Lyanna fell as glass splattered into dust around her. She breathed one last word, "Bran," before lying still.

Ned walked towards Lyanna's body and he waited for her stomach to turn a torn bloody mess as it did during Lyanna's actual death. He was ready for the dream to merge into reality.

Nothing changed. She remained still. There was no sign of life. Just a doll, an unmovable doll. Poor, poor Lyanna.

He heard more glass shattering behind him and then a gasp from behind him.

Ignoring the tears burning his eyes, Ned turned to find the wheelchaired bound fool staring right at him.

The fool said something, quietly. He must have heard wrong.

"What did you say?" He stared at the blood bleeding out of the fool's chest.

"Father."

What? The two of them stared at each other for what felt like ages. What did that mean?

"Ned. Ned." Catelyn's voice echoed into the dream.

Father. What did that mean? Suddenly, he understood. Catelyn would know immediately if she was the one dreaming.

He was a father. A father first. That must be what the dream was telling him. Lyanna might be a lost so despicable that left him and King Robert heartbroken, but he must move forward despite her ever-present spotlight in his every moment. Despite the Kingslayer's earlier reminder of Brandon and the Northern legends of the dead.

"Ned," Catelyn called his name again.

The nightmare drifted away like the snow on an especially brisk day.

He opened his eyes to see Catelyn's bright blue eyes looking worried. "Ned. Are you feeling well? You have been shaking for over an hour."

He moved his shaking hand to softly clutch her warm cheek and hugged her closely, briefly appeased by her warmth. "I dreamed of Arya and Lyanna getting killed by the dead."

Catelyn immediately bolted from the bed. "I should check on her. Do you think, Arya's…?"

"No. It was only a dream," He told her when she frantically ran towards the door.

"I'll be back. I still should check."

Now alone with his thoughts, flashes of the dead corpses that represented Arya and Lyanna. In the dream, he did nothing but watch as he did when Lyanna slowly died on her birthing bed. In life, he did nothing but walk passed as the Kingslayer interacted with his children yesterday. When he talked with the Kingslayer, he focused more on learning about his relationship with Brandon than his children's safety.

"Do you think I'm a good father?" He asked when Catelyn returned.

"You have always been a good father. Don't let any dream make you doubt that. You would protect Arya and the others with your dying breath," Catelyn said fiercely.

Ned shook his head. "No. I'm not. Not recently. King Robert's visit has made me focused so much on Lyanna, on Brandon, on all of my family that is long dead."

"Oh, Ned." Catelyn kissed him softly. "You need this time to remember. Don't let any dream tell you otherwise. Our children will always be our biggest priority, but our other family will always be important. Take all the time you need to reminisce with Robert. I can only imagine the memories he is forcing you to think about in the crypts."

"I thought you would think me dishonorable, if I let my desires consume me."

Catelyn stated emphatically, "You're the most honorable man in all of Westeros and the entire East as well."

"Then, why does it feel so wrong. All these years, I…" Ned stopped himself. He could not blurt out his next thought. He could not mention his guilt for keeping Lyanna's son a secret. For all the guidance Catelyn provided, she could not help him recover from his sinful past.

"Ned." Catelyn clutched his hand. "How about you speak to the Gods in the Godswoods? Perhaps, they will provide the direction you so desperately need."

Ned smiled. Catelyn knew him so well.

Perhaps, the Godswoods would provide a safe place for prayer. No. He might find it overrun by a drunken Kingslayer again. He did not want to run into the man again, not when he was this vulnerable.

"I can't," Ned said sadly. "Earlier tonight I ran into the Kingslayer drinking heavily and rambling nonsense in the Godswoods."

"We will not stand for this," Catelyn yelled. "He needs to leave Winterfell. He has broken the most sacred of guest rites. I should have expected this. He is the worst oathbreaker. We should have never let him in our hearth and home."

"We will do nothing." It pained him to say those words.

"He brought sin to your place of worship. He rampaged it with wine and vulgarity, turning it akin to a whorehouse."

"Catelyn, stop. We will do nothing that may possibly anger the King or Queen. You know our place as well as I do."

Catelyn frowned, eyes glaring. She slowly moved through their solar to her desk. She clutched her hands on her mirror lying on her desk and sighed, "It's not right. But you're right. It's our duty to honor the King and Queen's wishes. No matter how vile the Queen's brother is."

She fiddled around with her brush and other trinkets lying on her desk. "Earlier today the Kingslayer had the audacity to tell Bran that he should not climb walls. He acted like he had the right to encroach our duty. I guess that is what bothered me the most. The knowledge that he is acting like he has the right to interact familiarly with our children. How can I protect them from a man who pretends to be so kind?"

The Kingslayer thought he could order Ned's Bran around? The audacity of the man.

"Tomorrow. I will demand that he stay away from them. We can do that at least." While he hated the idea of speaking to the Kingslayer again, he needed to listen to the dream and focus on being a father. His children's needs were bigger than his own.

"Thank you." Catlyn smiled, placing down an embroidery she was looking at before returning to their bed. She leaned beside him and clutched his hands. "Tell me, what did you talk to the Kingslayer about."

He thought back to the conversation and realized he would need to talk about the Kingslayer's mysterious friendship with Brandon. He didn't even know when he and the Kingslayer could have become friends. Was it the night Brandon and his father spent in the dungeons before their deaths? Did the Kingslayer spend that night laughing falsely at his brother and father and pretending to have a plan to save them?

Catelyn deserved to know. She had once cared deeply about Brandon when they were betrothed. "In the Godswood, he talked to my brother Brandon as if he knew him. As if they were friends."

Catelyn's eyes glowed a dark fury. "He watched him die. Watched as the device strangled him whole as he tried to save your father from being burned alive. He let him die. If what you think is true, he let his friend die. Bright, confident Brandon. He was always so kind to me and everyone he met. Even when my friend, Petyr, asked to duel him for my hand in marriage. I wish he never spent a moment with that arrogant, distasteful, disgraceful lion."

He would not cry. This was just another retelling of his father's and Brandon's death. Nothing to cry about. Nothing to fear.

Somehow the Kingslayer bonded with his brother, as horrible as that sounded, because Brandon became enamored with other people too easily.

"Apparently they did. He talked about some plan they made and Brandon's love for the Godswood tree. He talked about how Bran is Brandon somehow, like that is even possible. He rambled about the Long Night myth of the dead destroying the world. So much nonsense that doesn't matter. All I can think about is how he knew my brother better than me. Brandon never once shared with me any fears of the dead coming alive."

"Ned. Brandon was your brother. The Kingslayer could not have a relationship more sacred than that."

Ned said sadly, "I was never that close with my brothers as I should have been."

"Then, its good that Benjen's here for a few nights. You should see what he thinks about the Kingslayer knowing Brandon. And hear about his travels." Catelyn smiled. "I also have a need to write to Lysa and Edmure. Maybe, we both need to remember to interact more with our siblings."

Ned agreed. Maybe, Benjen will have some answers.

"As well," Catelyn continued. "I will reference in my letter to Lysa her message about Jon Arryn. Maybe, she has some information to connect the Kingslayer to the death. It's appearing more and more likely that the Lannisters are involved. We need to know as much as we can before you head South."

"I hope that will be enough," Ned replied. He hoped that his dream was not foretelling the end of Winterfell.