You all know the drill by now, don't own squat…

Bran tore through the woods recklessly, screaming Josslyn's name. He could feel the branches cutting into the skin of his face and his arms, but he didn't care. Summer had finally found her scent, but it was mingled with something else, something even the dire wolf didn't understand.

Fog was frothing at the mouth finally spent, when he finally caught a glimpse of her gown, under a great shaggy brown and grey fur. Summer growled furiously and Bran finally realized that a dire wolf lay on top her. Summer leapt at the wolf, dragging it away from Josslyn, forcing the giant beast to submit, though use of claws and fangs. The dire wolf had been asleep for a moment, but at the feel of Summer's teeth it woke up and fought back. Growls and yelps echoed though the night, and Bran wished that his stupid legs would work so that he could run to Josslyn.

Sandor got warily from his horse and skirted the fighting wolves trying to get Josslyn, but the brown and grey wolf spun and lunged at him snarling, Bran barely had the time to join his mind with the wolfs and force her to stand down. The female dire wolf was feral, not used to humans like Summer or Shaggy Dog or Nymeria, but for some reason, she had protected Josslyn, trying to return her from where she came. Bran couldn't puzzle out why, until he released her mind, and she attacked Summer again, this time more playfully than she had before, going so far as to present Summer her hind quarters.

Bran and Rickon laughed, but with a questioning look from Gendry, Rickon explained. "She's Summer's mate. No wonder she took care of Joslsyn, she must have smelled him on her." Bran just watched as Sandor lifted a limp Josslyn in his arms and carried her to where he was waiting. Sandor laughed gently as he handed her to Bran, and he pulled her close, not even sparing a glance for his brothers who had been with him from the start.

She was soaked through, and burning with a fever, blood was splattered across her face and chest, and her features were caked in mud and grime, tear tracks clearly evident on her dirty face. He had nearly forgotten how she smelled, and even through the blood and grime, she still smelled of summer snow and lilacs. He could see bruises marring her creamy skin, and she winced as her pulled her to him Bran stayed sitting on Fog, with Josslyn finally returned to his arms, as the others made camp for the first time since they'd left the gates of Winterfell. Bran just held her close, he knew he'd have to get her out of her wet clothes.

Gendry and Rickon had set up his tent and then quickly left, him alone with her. Once she'd been placed in his tent, he stripped her of her wet ruined gown. Stupid girl, he thought as he pulled one of his own dry shirts over her still unconscious messy body, She proved her point, and that nearly got her killed. He knew what she was doing when he saw her in the blue gown that she'd worn to their first dinner, the gown she was wearing when he'd fallen in love with her, but he cursed her stubbornness for it now

Bran stretched out beside her feverish body, and pulled her close to him on his cot. He sighed closing his eyes, knowing they were not out of the woods yet. The fever that burned in her, was worse than he'd ever seen, and may still kill her. Bran felt a wet nose nudge his arm, and turned to see the female dire wolf, staring at him with cautious yellow eyes.

"Thank you," he whispered to the wolf, who simply snuffed a blast of air in his face before padding out of his tent. Summer came in a short while later, crawling up on the cot trying to keep Josslyn warm. Bran felt his eyes grow heavy, and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

When he woke the next morning, he saw that the female dire wolf had come into the tent sometime in the night, and was curled on top of Josslyn, licking Summer affectionately. Bran looked down at Josslyn, who's face was gleaming with sweat, though she felt a little cooler than she had the night before, but her face was still covered in grime. He leaned in and lightly kissed her lips, which made her flinch. His heart broke. What happened to you, my love? he thought. He didn't want to think about what she'd endured at the hands of the Ghost Raiders, but thanked the gods that Ice was stained with their blood.

"No one will touch you again, Josslyn," his whispered in her ear. "I swear it." Sandor came to get him, and lifted him on to Fog's back before returning for Josslyn, who was wrapped in a heavy woolen cloak. When the grey horse saw his master, he went crazy, grunting and whinnying, pawing at the ground with excitement. Sandor lifted Josslyn into the saddle in front of Bran.

"You should ride ahead of us," Sandor gruffed. "It'll take us a while to break camp and she needs a maester." Bran nodded, but before he could do anything, Fog whinnied and raced north, Summer and the she-wolf silently keeping pace. It was hours before Bran saw the gates of Winterfell in the distance, but Fog never let his pace up for a moment. He could barely rein the horse to a stop when they finally barreled through the gates, and he bellowed for Tommen. The blonde man came running and when he saw his cousin, openly wept. He took Josslyn from Bran, much to Bran's dislike and ran from him, never slowing for an instant, both wolfs following at his heals, the she wolf even snapping as if to urge him faster.

Bran anxiously waited until a large stable boy lifted him from the equally anxious horse, and as soon as he was in his chair, he took off after Tommen, only to be stopped by his sisters.

"Out of my way," Bran snarled. "You're husbands are fine they'll be back." But his sister's never moved, Arya's hand resting on Needle and Sansa's arms were crossed in front of her chest in irritation. "What?" he snapped. They just looked at him, expectantly. "You can start planning the gods damned wedding as soon as she's awake, if she'll have me." Sansa smiled brightly and threw her arms around her brother, Arya simply nodded, still looking irritated and went back to the walls to watch for Gendry.

When Bran finally made it to Josslyn's room, he saw Tommen had changed her sweat soaked clothes again into a simple cotton shift, but the look in Tommen's eyes was both worried and hopeful. Both the wolves laying at the foot of Josslyn's bed, though the she-wolf snarled at his approach.

"She was severely beaten," the maester said not looking Bran in the eyes. "One of the bastards cracked a few of her ribs, and she's black and blue. But her fever has broken and it appears that most of the blood that covered her wasn't her own."

"Gave them a good fight then," Bran said proudly, smiling for the first time since his name day. "That's my girl," he said taking her hand and giving it a little squeeze. She squeezed back, but her grip was so faint that Bran thought maybe he'd imagined it.

"Yes she did," Tommen said approval evident in his voice. "We just need to wait until she wakes." And with a bow, Tommen left he room, leaving him alone with her. He looked down at the new wolf, Summer's mate and a name for her popped in to his head. "Good girl, Winter," he said scratching the back of her head.

~x~

Josslyn dreamed that she was back in Winterfell. Appropriate, she thought, perhaps I was good and the gods blessed me with eternal dreams of where I was happiest. She dreamed of Tommen, hovering over her speaking in hushed tones about how strong she was, dreamed of Sansa sewing next to her kindly joking about how bad her own stitching was, Arya saying how she'd eventually make a decent fighter out of her. Wouldn't you be proud to know that I killed four of the Raiders, Arya? Summer was always at her side, as was a strange new wolf. But mostly she dreamed of Bran, his face wrought with worry, talking to her softly. He was always with her, through Arya and Sansa and even their children who appeared to be crying. They must be sad I'm gone, she thought. I had so many more stories for them.

One day, she felt as if her eyes opened, and she saw her room at Winterfell, Bran's face so close to her own, his eyes closed with sleep. Then she felt the pain, the unbearable pain and whimpered. Bran's eyes flew open, and his lips flew to hers.

"You're awake," he said between beautiful kisses. "Gods, Josslyn, I thought I'd lost you." When he finally pulled away, she winced and raised a hand to caresses his stubble lined face.

"It's all just a dream," she said, tears pouring from her eyes, her throat sore from talking.

"It's not Josslyn," Bran said as he pulled himself into her bed and lay beside her.

"Yes it is," she smiled, her mind was so hazy. "I died, Summer was there."

"Josslyn," he whispered lovingly against her lips as he kissed her again. "Love, you're not dead, you're very much alive." Josslyn shook her head, and whimpered again from the pain. Her eyes shot open wide and she realized that if she was dead, she wouldn't hurt. She began to cry, Bran wrapped her tightly in his arms and held her, whispering in her ear, telling her she was fine, that he loved her, that he'd never leave.

After what felt like hours, she drifted off to sleep again. But when she awoke, Bran was still there, snoring softly beside her, his arms wrapped so tightly around her that she wondered if he thought she'd disappear if he didn't hold so her so fiercely. She sat up, the pain bringing forth new silent tears and saw Summer asleep at the foot of her bed, with the wolf that she had thought was Summer in her fevered state. The wolf raised her head and watched her suspiciously.

Josslyn raised a hand, and offered it to the wolf, but not making a movement toward it. The dire wolf cautiously leaned its head to Joslsyn's hand and sniffed before licking it and curling up with Summer, going back to sleep.

"Winter is apparently Summer's mate," she heard Bran chuckle softly from behind her. She tried to spin around, but the pain the sudden movement caused was too great and she collapsed, whimpering. Bran was there to catch her, and gently lay back down with her.

"Winter?" she asked when the burning pain had finally subsided.

"That what I've been calling her at least," Bran whispered to her. "If you don't like the name, then change it. She appears to be yours anyhow."

"I'm not a Stark, Bran," she laughed bitterly, pain flared in her ribs again. "Lannister's don't keep dire wolves."

"You can be a Stark," Bran said hesitantly, his dark eyes searching hers. Josslyn closed her eyes and looked away. "It's all my fault," Bran whispered with such conviction that she didn't stop him to argue. He toyed with her tangled sweat damp hair for a few moments before he spoke again. "I never should have sent you away, I never should have hurt you. I want you Josslyn, more than I want to breathe. I know you deserve more…" Josslyn stopped him by placing her hand over his mouth.

"That was never the case Bran," she whispered. He looked away from her a blush creeping in to his cheeks. "If anything you're more than I deserve." She looked away from him, not being able to look him in the eyes for the next part. "I'm not entirely blameless you know. I could have stayed, I could have fought with you until you gave in, I could have not left to prove some stupid proud point of mine." They lay there not speaking for a long time. Winter jumped off the bed and padded over to the partially open door and left, Summer not far behind her.

Josslyn just lay there, relishing in Bran's warmth, in is arms, in the soft kisses that he would trail down her cheeks. It was late, the sliver of the moon shone though the window. "If I stay," she whispered and felt Bran stiffen next to her, "You can never do that to me again, You can never send me away, never tell me you're not good enough." Bran tried to look away but she grabbed his chin and forced his dark gaze to hers.

"You're more than good enough Bran," she kissed him lightly on the nose. "Any one who tells you other wise, I'll run through like I did a few of the Ghost Raiders." Bran laughed, the sound music to her ears after the torments she'd faced. He pulled her to him, gently, but there was nothing gentle about the kiss he gave her. When he finally pulled away she was breathless a longing in her loins that she knew had noting to do with her beatings.

"Marry me Josslyn," he whispered, his warm breath making her lips ache for his again.

"Yes," she whispered before leaning in to kiss him again.

Awww. Don't change that dial so fast readers…we're not quite done yet.