Jaime fought back-to-back with his commander, Ser Brienne of Tarth. Using his left hand, he was only as skilled as an average soldier, but she could best any knight. He figured he was in the best spot for survival, not that he expected to survive. Together they had cleared out a circle around them, killing every wight that entered the perimeter.
The sun rose higher in the sky. The wights became more scattered as more were killed. Then the white walkers rode onto the field. There were hundreds of them, and four surrounded Jaime and Brienne. Around them, more white walkers approached Brienne's forces. He heard her calling orders. "First and second units, take the one on horseback. Third unit, fall back and aid the crypt. Fourth and fifth, take the two by the gate. Jaime. Guard my back." She shifted her stance and adjusted her grip.
Jaime glanced between the white walkers approaching on either side. "I'll go left", he muttered. Left, where his remaining hand held his sword at the ready.
"Good." Brienne leaped forward with her sword flashing, and Jaime followed. To his right, he heard the first white walker fall to the ground the clang of Brienne's sword as she dueled the second.
Just as he stabbed the third white walker, he glimpsed an ice sword darting toward his side. He jerked his sword free but couldn't twist around quickly enough. Jaime closed his eyes and waited for the sword to pierce his body.
He heard a shuffle and the slice of metal against flesh, but he felt no impact. Surprised, he opened his eyes. Brienne stood before him with the tip of an ice blade protruding from her chest.
He stared at her face in shock. She was looking down at the blade, not at him. It gleamed with a red stain, but her blood had not yet begun to flow around it. Her gaze slid up to meet his. Her eyes were defiant. His were wide with horror. Their eyes met for half a second, then the white walker kicked her towards him and pulled his sword from her back. Jaime instinctively reached out to catch her, but she had already found her footing. She spun around with her sword lifted, surprising the white walker and knocking his weapon from his grasp. Her footing only a hair's breadth slower than usual, and her sword just barely trembling, she plunged Oathkeeper through his heart. The snow muffled his dying shrieks.
Brienne slumped to her knees. Dark blood streamed down her breastplate. Jaime caught her before she could fall and lowered her onto the ground. He heard himself yelling her name. He fumbled with her armor while tearing cloth from his shirt. His hands shook as he pressed the cloth to the wound. Blood leaked from her back and dyed the snow dark around her. He blinked at the stinging in his eyes.
She stopped his frenzied hand with her own and held it still. "When the battle is over, report back to Sansa. Wait for her instructions." Her eyes were unfocused but her commands were sharp and precise.
"No," he said dumbly. "Hold on." His breath caught in his throat. "We'll get you to the healers, they'll bandage you up," he babbled on, reassuring himself. "It can't be." His voice sounded high and strange in his ears. He busied himself with her wound and avoided looking into her eyes. This was all wrong. He was supposed to give his life, protecting the living and protecting his commander. "It can't be." He should be the one bleeding out into the snow.
"Jaime, I'm dying. It was an honor to fight alongside you." She closed her eyes, composed and dignified.
He clasped her hand with his remaining hand and bent his head over her. Choking back sobs, he held his voice steady, though his breath came out in gasps. Slowly, he forced out the words. "All I, I ever wanted, was to die with you."
She gave him half a smile and replied, "I wanted you to live."