Chapter One: Hold on

Bitter, cold and humid. Icy wind tore though the trees and bit at Arya's face. She might as well have been standing in an open field, the trees were giving her no cover. Every surface, every blade of grass, every dead leaf, was coated with a thin layer of ice. Delicate and deadly.

Arya squeezed her eyes shut. The cold was nothing, the night was nothing. Pain and fear didn't matter. Rage fuelled her, bitter, black rage. She would kill Cersei Lannister.

Kill Cersei.

That thought alone was enough to bring a cruel smile to her face. The night would be long, but she would get through it. She always did.

But as the cold crept into her veins and licked at her face, a seed of doubt formed in her mind. The odds were stacked against her, why would she succeed? She pulled the thin blanket up to her chest. She would. There was no room for doubt. She slowly drifted into a restless and painful sleep, the cold kept her partially awake.

Something moved in the darkness, a figure, hooded and thin. "Arya Stark?"

Arya was on her feet in a flash, knife at the ready. "Who's there?" She growled.

A chuckle. "Put the knife away, girl." The figure stepped into the fading light of her fire, he flashed her a quick smile from under his dark hood. "I'm here to help you."

"I don't need your help." She tightened her grip on the knife. "Now reveal your face, unless you want this knife in you chest."

He laughed again. It was a light and melodic sound. "Quite the fighters, you Starks."

"How do you know who I am?" She hissed.

"Oh," He finally lowered his hood to reveal a thin face framed by dark hair. His eyes unnerved Arya, they were dark and seemingly endless. "I know a lot of things."

He chuckled quietly and sat down cross legged beside her strangely determined fire that was still burning despite all odds.

"What do you want?" Arya hadn't changed her stance. The knife was still tightly gripped in her hand.

"What I want?" He tilted his head, dark eyes curious. "I think the question is what you want. How far are you willing to go to kill Cersei Lannister?

She growled. "Who told you that?"

"It doesn't matter. Please answer the question, if you do not wish to I will offer another, more deserving girl, my services."

Arya didn't move, but she lowered her knife slightly. "I will do anything to kill her."

He flashed her a bright smile, eyes gleaming. "Excellent. I can give you the power to kill her, but in return you must give something to my master."

"What's that?"

"A gift to ensure you will serve him for the rest of your life."

Arya laughed. "I can kill Cersei on my own if that's the case."

"Oh, but that's not all." He was looking at the fire now, which was burning much brighter that earlier. "You can save your brothers, Rob and Jon."

Arya had a knife to his throat in a matter of seconds. "They don't need saving."

He raised a brow. "Get the knife away from my throat, girl. Listen to what I have to say and if you do not like it I will continue on my way."

Arya slowly lowered the knife. "Speak."

"My my, very hostile aren't we?" He straightened his cloak. "Do you wish to see what will become of Rob if you do not save him?"

"How do I know you won't show me lies?"

He glanced at the fire, the flames cast strange reflections in his dark eyes. "My master wishes for your honest agreement."

"Very well." She took a step away from him, though her eyes never left him. "Show me."

He sighed, looking slightly bored. "Come closer, girl."

Arya eyed him distrustfully, but took a wary step closer to him.

He hummed softly and pressed his cool fingers to Arya's temple.

The campsite faded around her.

She was at a wedding, people were laughing, singing.

This was a happy occasion, why was the man showing it to her?

She could see Rob, and a woman, beautiful and happy. She had a hand to her stomach.

Arya felt nausea form in her gut, something was wrong, horribly wrong. Her mother, Catelyn was there, Arya felt a deep longing in her chest. Oh how she ached to see her mother again.

Then there were arrows flying, men were dying, falling. The woman beside Rob was viciously stabbed, in her stomach. Arya tried to scream, but nothing came out, it was as if she was in a dream.

Then an arrow hit Rob.

And another.

Arya felt panic rise in her chest. No, no, no.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Then she was back at her campfire.

The man took a step away from Arya. His jaw was set and there was no humour in his dark eyes. "I'm sorry that you had to see that."

Arya was shaking, she swiped a hand over her cheeks. "What do I have to do?"

"You have to give my master your soul and serve him for the rest of your life." He smiled again.

"And what will I get?"

He playfully poked a stick into the feeble fire. "The power to do anything you want, but after you have completed your missions, you will begin to serve him."

Her soul? Was this some sort of game? She didn't care, if he gave her the chance to fix things it didn't matter. "I'll do it."

She couldn't figure out whether she was imagining it or not, but the man seemed to be a little disappointed. "Congratulations, Arya Stark." He pulled the hood over his head and turned his back to her. "You are now the most powerful woman in the seven kingdoms." He was walking away now, his thin figure slowly disappeared into the trees. "Try to hold on." It was a whisper, so quiet she barely caught it.

She woke the next morning curled into a tight ball, the air was warmer, but she was still numb to the core. A strange dream indeed. She'd best be on her way. The forest she had slept in was peculiar, there were stories of travellers disappearing at night, never to be found again.

She slowly rolled up her blanket, flexing her fingers carefully to rid herself of the cold.

Three figures stepped out from behind the trees. The largest one looked to be in his late teens, he had large yellowish teeth and watery eyes. "All alone aren't you girly? We can warm you up."

His followers chuckled and they moved close to Arya. She scrambled for her weapons, they were gone. Stupid, stupid. They must have stole them while she slept.

The largest boy grabbed Arya's arm. "Take off your clothes, girl. Unless you want me to rip them off."

Arya spat in his face. "Kill yourself, boy."

For a brief moment a look of anger crossed his meaty face, then it was replaced by cold determination. He reached for the knife at his belt, Arya's small trusty knife, and plunged it into his chest until only the hilt protruded from his heart. Blood trickled down his chin and he crumpled to the ground.

Arya's whole body turned numb, she felt her stomach flip in fear.

Then she ran.

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