Lisa

She shuffled the handcuffs binding her wrists behind the pillar slightly, trying to alleviate the soreness of wearing them in such an uncomfortable position. She hadn't eaten in days, yet somehow felt just fine. No hunger pangs reminded her of the situation. No growling. Her mouth never dried up from lack of water. Something, somehow, was keeping her alive and quite well – minus the bruising and rash that had formed around her wrists. As she gently struggled with the handcuffs, hoping desperately for a miracle, the sound of footsteps slowly, faintly echoed through her pitch-black surroundings. They slowly grew louder as the figure approached. It wasn't the woman – she was quiet and walked with a purpose. These steps were slower, heavier... metallic. A White Walker.

She instinctively held her breath as fear began to take her. The glowing blue eyes suddenly came into view, as if she were in a black fog and the walker had penetrated it. Soon, the rest of him became visible, though just barely. The armor was ancient – black and silver and covered in ice. A long blade hung across his back, dangling down to his knees. The pommel, blackened with age, rose above his white hair. The roaring wolf was barely recognizable after so many years. Lisa flinched and gasped. She knew that sword.

"Longclaw," she whispered. The walker suddenly stopped and looked down at her. It grimaced, then looked back up to the pole and kept walking behind her. "Can you speak?" she asked. "Like her?"

No answer came.

"Are you Aegon Targaryen?" she pressed. The footsteps once again halted suddenly. She swore she could hear him groaning. She frantically tried to turn her body towards him, clumsily slipping over her own wrists. By the time she'd made it around, the figure was disappearing back into the pitch.

"You're Jon Snow, aren't you? The Bastard of Winterfell – I read about you in the North!" she cried. The boots stopped as the white walker shook. He reached up to his cold, white face and groaned loudly. He dropped to his knees. "You are!" she cried again. "You're fighting her, aren't you? You have to fight!"

"Penance," the haunting, piercing voice came slowly. "For his betrayal."

"His?" Lisa asked. "Whose?"

"My brother," the white walker answered, standing and turning. The blue eyes made contact with her own, but she no longer saw the white walker. Instead, she saw something different – someone different.

"Who are you?" she asked, knowing that she wasn't speaking to Jon Snow anymore. The white walker approached her and touched the metal handcuffs, freezing them. He then brought a mighty fist down onto them, shattering the links into tiny fragments. Lisa was free.

"My brother will regain control eventually," the voice came. "But you must escape now, while you can."

"Where?" she whined, standing up and surveying the blackness around her.

"Follow me," he commanded, turning and walking into the blackness. She reluctantly followed the clanking steps through the black mist before noting his silhouette against a light further ahead. As they approached, they began climbing stone stairs until they reached the doorway and the hallway beyond. She turned to look at the white walker and the surrounding area. It was a large, circular pit – held up and enclosed by enormous stone pillars. Half of the room was collapsed with a dark and evil aura filling the cavity in the middle.

"This is the dragonpit," she gasped. "I thought this was destroyed and lost!"

"You must go through this tunnel. You will emerge in the Red Keep. From there, you should be able to make your way to the city. Your only chance of escape is to travel North. To the wall. Once you're there, I will contact you again." The white walker moved back towards the steps, descending slowly.

"How?" she whimpered. He did not stop to answer. As his shape disappeared into the black mist, she took the hint and finally decided to listen. She departed quickly, taking in one last glance of the lost ruins of history. The tunnel led to a collapsed section, hindering her progress, but a small hole in the wall revealed a stone ladder built into the side – as if a secret passage one could use to spy on those entering the dragonpit. She slid through the opening and into the vertical passage. The only way to travel was up, so she did. There was little light to guide her, but as there was only one way to go, she felt her way confidently until she found the top and a small, wooden door – newer than the castle – blocking her way. She gave it a mighty push, causing it to pop out of the space it occupied and letting her crawl through. Sure enough, she found herself in an ancient cell. This level of the Red Keep was mostly destroyed, but a small wing of prison cells was part of the public tour.

Remembering her last trip here in university, she quickly navigated back up to the main level of the keep. There were no tourists today. She fled the keep, treading quickly down the steps towards the gates that held back throngs of visitors and sightseers in normal days but today only held back the wind. She didn't waste any time relishing her freedom. Whatever the white walker did to free her, she was positive the move was only temporary and that it would quickly turn on her. She hopped the turnstile and sprinted towards the parking lot. Numerous cars had been left behind. She prayed one of them could be started. With no corpses anywhere in sight, she knew that looting the keys off of a body wouldn't be possible.

Then she saw it; A black Royal Motor Company 4-wheel drive military-sport truck. The cloth top had been down, causing the interior to be musty and dirty. She glanced down and grinned at seeing the third pedal – so rare in modern life. She popped the hood and found the battery quick-release had been engaged before it was parked – a common move for owners of this particularly easy-to-steal vehicle. She grabbed the lead harness and placed it over the two posts, engaging the clamping mechanism. The vehicle chirped at her gently, the computer regaining power after so long. She couldn't believe it.

She didn't waste any time – knowing that the charge in the battery would be painfully short, she jumped in the truck and disengaged the parking brake. The truck began to roll backwards slowly. She painfully cranked the wheel over to turn the truck, lining it up with the exit. As she hoped, the truck began to roll forward now. She engaged the clutch and put the stick in first gear. As the truck picked up speed, she began slowly letting the clutch out. Living up to their reputation as the legendary vehicle of the Westerosi Military, the truck roared to life as the pedal slipped out of her foot. She instantly put her foot onto the accelerator and sped off.