Prologue

"But I still can not fly." She whispered in her sleep.
Ser Armory Lorch did not pay her much attention. The cold was getting to her. Considering that neither of them had warm clothing it came as not so surprise. He had killed the horse two days ago. What meat he could salvage he had put into a makeshift sack made of a patch of the stallion's skin. In this cold he at least did not have to worry about the food decaying. Dead, the horse was more use to him then alive anyways. He was better of without it. Without the armor. Without the binds to hold the girl.
He had told her that she was free to leave any time she wanted. The forest was a great place to get killed after all. That had made her stay close and kept her from slitting his throat in his sleep. The only things left to him was the sword buckled to his hip and the knife he kept turning in his hand. The flames of the fire he had painted wild shapes on its blade. He saw clouds and animals and people, but one thing that always returned was the dragon. That had been the beginning of it all. That stupid brat had put a curse on him all those years ago. If he had just slit her throat then all would have been different. His neighbours wouldn't have denied him their daughters, Lord Tywin would have given him honors, his lands would have prospered. But that little witch had to scream and scream and just would not hold still! It was all her fault. Her's and Ser Gregor's. Why did that idiot have to wave around the baby's corpse in front of her?
But did anyone care about any of that? No, of course not. He was Ser Armory Lorch: the child murderer. And once the opportunity came to get rid of him Tywin had grasped it. He had called him to Casterly Rock and made it clear that he had the choice between taking the black or joining Ser Tywin on a hunt the next morning. A hunt with many stray arrows. His world had collapsed then; the bastard's last words still rang in his ears: "You should have taken a pillow."
How? How was he supposed to do that? And when he served the Lannisters the north on a plate, what did they do? Make him an outlaw. Well if they wanted him to be one, then he may as well pay them back as an outlaw would.
He looked over at the girl. Surely the King-Beyond-The-Wall, would be happy to grant him a command in exchange for such a valuable hostage. And then, well, he had always been a good raider. He would rise through the ranks and some day… sevens, even Mance Rayder had started out as a turncloak.
As the light of day slowly crept into their camp he threw two flaps of horse meat into the flames. While their breakfast sizzled on the flames he walked around looking for branches he could use as torches. Fire was the only thing that scared the wolves and shadowcats away. The beasts were attracted by the smell of horse meat and one had even tried to get Sansa. It was a shame they had not been able to carry its meat too. When he was finally satisfied with his branch collection he went over to the girl to wake her. He looked at that body for a while. She was still nothing more than a child, and yet it was still obvious that one day she would be a beautiful woman. Well if they were to die here he would at least get to release himself one final time.
Suddenly she growled. Deep in her sleep she made a sound like an animal. Like a hunter looking for its prey. She drew her arms close to her chest as if she was running on all fours. When she started to bite the snow he could take it no more and yanked her up. As she opened her tired eyes, for a moment he could see the bloodlust in them. But then, as quickly as it came, it left, and she was back to the scared little girl.
"Stop dreaming stupid things and eat." was the only thing he said. He used his sword to pull the meat out of the fire. Sansa silently accepted her piece and started to eat. She seemed to try to uphold her ladylike behavior but after a short while the hunger overtook her and she started to gnaw on her share like an animal. Ser Armory did not know why, but that girl send shivers down his spine. For a faint moment he got the feeling that he could die any moment.
After he ignited the first torch, he had her cover the fireplace with snow. He doubted that the crows were still on their trail, but one could never be certain.
They set out soon after. He had tried to orient himself with the help of the stars, but the snow that fell almost all night had made it impossible to make out even the smallest light on the sky. He would have to just have to try and continue in a straight line from their path of the last day.
That was how they made their way through the forest. North, always north. Everyday they had less and less to eat. And everyday their advance was slower.
Two days after they had eaten the last of the leftovers, Armory lay awake again.
Why? Why did his life turn out this way? His mind circled around this one thing and every time he got back to the little girl. He had once heard of Shiera Seastar, a Targaryen who was also a witch, though it was common knowledge that all Targaryens were magic. They had dreams and commanded dragons. Yes, this was the only explanation. The girl, with her last breath, had put a curse on him. He heard Sansa mutter in her sleep again. Suddenly fear filled him. What if all her muttering was her putting a curse on him too? Maybe this is what she had done all these days. He had heard that Northerners knew many secrets of the children of old. Or maybe, he shot the sleeping figure a look, maybe she was the girl come back to life, here to reap her revenge on him. A curse over a decade in the making. Well he was not going down without a fight. He drew his knife and approached her. Yes, Gregor had it right back then. Always break a woman before killing her that way they have no power to curse you left in their bodies. And did he not deserve one last time before he froze to death?
He was almost upon her, ready to rip of her pretty coat, when she suddenly opened her eyes.
"There is food. Close. Half a day from here." She pointed to the left of their path. "That direction."
Now all doubt was gone. She was a witch. She wanted to buy her life with food. But he was not going to be fooled by her. He would have her lead him to the food. And then he would take her. And wring her sorry neck. Take revenge for ruining his life.
For the first time in a week his steps were fast on the snow. Guided by her instructions, they did indeed find a clearing on which lay a dead stag. Its throat had been ripped out and blood had tainted the white snow. It had to be sorcery. Why else had no animal touched it?
"You eat first." He told her. That way I am sure that it isn't deadly. She knelt beside the dead animal and tore at a lose muscle fibre. It came loose and she took it in her mouth.
"Good." Ser Armory said as he slowly made his way behind her, silently drawing his knife. "Eat more. I can wait." She just nodded and continued ripping out loose flaps.
He looked at her back. She was pretty. So pretty and full of evil. He extended his hand. His fingers brushed the back of her clothes, when a battering ram smashed into his side. He smelled burned flesh and heard a growling. But no, that sound was beyond growling. That sound was a demon's cry. He fought himself to his feet and awaited his opponent.
"No," her voice was as soft as ever. "Let him go."
The monster who was still ready to jump at him hesitated. It was a hellhound. No other possibility. A gigantic canine covered in burns all over it's body, an eye staring blind, it's voice coming in hisses, gurgles and sounds that were beyond description.
"Leave your sword. Drop your knife. Turn around and go where ever you like. Don't follow us, Lady will smell you." She sounded almost like she felt pity. She had ruined his entire life, summoned demons to do her bidding and she felt pity for him.
He slowly raised his hands. "No reason to get carried away, my lady. I will drop this knife right there." He put all his power into the throw. If he could catch the beast unawares he could still draw his sword and hack it to pieces. But with a speed that should have been impossible for such a beast, the monster dodged his throw and locked its jaws on his wrist. He struggled with all power he had left in his starved body. He rained blow after blow on the hound's head, but even he knew how pathetically weak they were. He felt something rip in his right arm, moments before his world exploded into a haze of pain, and he watched helplessly as said arm was tossed carelessly into the next group of trees. Then he felt the monster's breath on his face and gaped into the abyss of its blood covered jaws.
Then he saw nothing.

Thanks to harrylee94 for beta reading.