Mud, sweat, blood, salt. That was all Brienne could smell, taste, or breathe. The strangled shrieks of the wights drowned her, pushed her against the castle wall, and soon she lost sight of everything around her. The first three senses were familiar to her, but the salt. Was that the salt of her own tears?
She pushes and cuts them down, in a never-ending relentless battle with her mind. She begins to tire, and for the first time in a long time she begins to lose hope, wanting darkness to consume her instead of this living hell.
Nobody is coming to save us.
That was all her exhausted mind could salvage as her breathing became more shallow and the dead surrounded her as if death itself were swallowing the three of them against the cold hard stone. She couldn't give up. No matter how much she wanted to in that moment. No matter how hard her body screamed at her to stop. She glanced beside her, panicked and shallow in breath to see Jaime. As if a reflex his green eyes locked with hers, a sapphire blue, and for a brief moment it was as if the screams around them muffled and died out and the chaos surrounding them disappeared. She could in his eyes, the words written clear as day itself.
I cannot hold up for much longer.
A wordless and brief conversation, but one that made her heart ache, and before she knew it she let out a brief sob, lamenting at the cruelty of the world. This was also unjust. They were staring death in the face, but in that moment it wasn't her life she cried for, but the stubborn gold-headed bastard fighting with her twin sword. She wasn't sure what possessed her sudden rage, unable to pinpoint exactly why she felt it was his life she must protect. But she realized that the entire battle, her reflex was to run to him, to protect and serve him. Just as he had done, as he promised. To serve under her command.
"In the name of the warrior, I charge you to be brave" his words rang in her head, like a chime, a sudden clarity in the utter chaos.
Be brave, Brienne, you stupid fool.
Do it for the Starks, for Lady Catelyn. For the seven bloody kingdoms, whose life you owed as soon as you knelt and vowed to protect the realm. Do it for Ser Jaime Lannister.
They kept at it, a rhythm of strike and cut, and all orientations around Jaime were beginning to fade as he came face to face with death personified. To his right he heard Brienne let out the most ungodly scream, one he had never heard from the beast of a woman. He almost stopped to behold the sight of her. Tragic, strong, brave… beautiful Brienne. Tears ran tracks down her face, tracing like rivers which cleared away mud and blood from her cheeks. She continued to push and strike the dead down, pushed by something that in Jaime's eyes possessed the power of the seven. Even in this light she was a beauty.
Then, as if her ungodly scream itself caused a change in the wind, the clawing ceased. Around them the dead dropped like rain. One by one. Podrick, Jaime and Brienne looked around in bewilderment, as if the dead had already taken them and this was some sick cruel joke. It was over. Their eyes locked, a wild expression found on the man's face. He looked every part the brave knight in that moment. Bruised, battered, bloodied, but handsome. It frustrated her so that even in a time like this he was still bloody handsome. As little as she ever dared to admit to herself, she knew deep down, and in her vulnerable state her deepest thoughts were threatening to bubble over.
Brienne could hardly breathe, and the only rational thing her body would let her do was collapse against the wall, her body slumped on top of the mountain of many she had slain. Wights, Dothraki, Karstarks, Mormonts. She lost count. She knew those faces.Her comrades, so cruelly slain and risen again.
She dropped Oathkeeper as if it stung, and the adrenaline began to cease and her heart thrummed strongly against her armour. Her mind focused on her hands as she held them out in front of her, shaking so terribly, covered in god knows what. They'd won. She could hardly believe it. How have they won? How am I alive?
Snapped out of her reverie, she focused her attention on the two men beside her, still standing holding their swords as if it were a trick on their minds and those bodies would rise once again. In her nightmares, those dead bodies silently rising will haunt her for a millennia. That she is sure of.
Podrick gasped out a large breath of air, as if a small laugh escaped him, looking around wildly, just as shocked as the rest of them in the courtyard, hearts still beating by some unexplainable odds. Jaime Lannister beside him stared with a haunted look in his eyes, seeing the utter carnage before him. He didn't know death before this day. Not in it's true, raw, and terrifying form.
After some time – ten minutes, ten seconds, maybe an hour – of staying rooted to the one spot, waiting with baited breath for something to happen, the lady knight slowly rose from her position, picked up her sword, and wordlessly limped down and away. Jaime, beside Podrick, looked as if he meant to call out to her but wouldn't, his golden hand extended out as if clasping onto her shadow. His throat burned and his eyes stung from the smoke. He wanted to run after her, to shake her from her induced and haunted reverie, hold her close to him because he still could not believe they were both alive. He was clinging on to the thought of her, with a degree of desperation, rejoicing in the simple fact.
They were alive.
But her name died on his cracked lips. He didn't know why but he knew the woman was needed elsewhere. Now that this was over, he was no longer needed in her charge. And that thought terrified him.
Where to from here?
