The Night King
Brienne had not been able to get the horrible thought out of Jaime's mind, no matter how much she argued. He was determined to be the Lion to kill the King. It bothered her to no end, but there wasn't much she could do. The only thing she could, was to remain close by. To make sure that if he attacked, she'd only be a step behind. One morning, when the names for the next raid were drawn, Jaime's name was picked, but hers was not. "I'm going too," she insisted, hissing at her husband. "You are not doing this alone."
It didn't take long for the Others to notice the small group of warriors approaching them. Brienne could swear she saw the Night King smirk. One by one, wights and men fell. Closer and closer, the cold King came, and it was as if her heart stopped. It would happen soon. Jaime… What if he fell too? Brienne could not bear to think of it, yet it was no longer in her hands. He was a few steps ahead of her, making straight for their leader.
As the Night King came closer, Brienne saw Jaime falter. The sword was too heavy; though Valerian steel was light, it was still a two-handed sword. "Not my husband," she said through gritted teeth, as she increased her speed. "You cannot have him!"
She plowed through the snow as fast as she could and reached him and his sword sooner than their adversary. Brienne reached for Brightroar and clasped the sword with both her hands. The Night King looked at her with his cold eyes. He was calm and confident, as always. "Brienne," Jaime whispered. "Brienne, it has to be me."
"I don't care," she said. "I don't like visions. I do like the feel of a sword in my hands and whenever I feel it, I'll put it to good use." The Night King made for his sword, but not until Brienne had stabbed him with Jaime's sword. It was to no avail. Laughing sinisterly, he grasped the hilt of Brightroar and pulled it out of himself. He wasn't even hurt.
Brienne's eyes grew large and as she prepared herself for imminent death, someone jumped between them. It wasn't Jaime. It was Jon. In one smooth move, he took her sword – Oathkeeper – out of its sheath and into the Night King's heart. If he had one, that was. It all happened so quickly but Brienne clearly saw it flaming bright before it was buried inside the icy foe. The Night King looked surprised, angered, and then he was no more. He crumbled to pieces in front of her very eyes and with him his entire army….
"My Lord, my King …" she said. "It was you after all. It was you all along."
He smiled at her. "But not my sword," he said. "Yours was forged from the sword of the man who was my father, both by love and by blood. It was the sword of a roaring lion, but it was not Brightroar."
"It was Oathkeeper," she whispered. "That Jaime's father forged for him but he gifted to me."
"Yes," he said. "It was paid for by blood and love, though not a woman's love. But Eddard Stark's."
"The dragon has three heads?" Brienne wondered. "The sword combines the Wolves, the Lions and you yourself… You are the Dragon that wielded it."
Jon's smile was unsure. "I don't know," he said. "I just know that Bran told me, right before we left that there wasn't just the one Lion's sword. That there were three."
"But not Widow's Wail," she said. "It could have been."
"Somehow a sword formerly owned and named by Joffrey Baratheon didn't seem as plausible," he laughed.
Brienne laughed too, hysterically so. All the emotions came pouring out of her. Jon smiled. "It might have had the same result," he said. "I guess we'll never know…"
Jaime gaped at the both of them. "My sword!" he said. "Not me, but my sword?!"
"Not your sword, my dear," Brienne could not help pointing out. "Not anymore, remember?" She rose her eyebrows and Jaime shook his head at her. "Formerly mine," he said.
"Aye," Jon replied. "Formerly Eddard's."
Jaime nodded. "So Stark's death paid for this one's…" he said, finding it quite unbelievable. "But how?"
Jon frowned. "I think so," he replied. "I don't know how. Perhaps his soul entered the blade, as Nissa Nissa's did once? I can't tell."
"Well, maybe it did," Jaime shrugged. "It would explain why I couldn't hang onto such an honorable blade myself," he quipped, "but handed it to the most honorable person I knew instead. And Joff…. Well, he didn't have it long, now did he? Perhaps he was unworthy of it. Surely its very name would have offended Ned Stark."
"You've carried it quite honorably," his wife said, trying to sooth him. "Though a name change might be prudent."
"I agree," Jon said. "Something with Ice in it, or Fire mayhaps. Something honorable."
"By rights, you should have it," Jaime made himself say, "both swords even. Perhaps melt it back into one again."
"I have a sword," he replied. "The swords are yours. One belonging to Brienne, the other to you. Two swords beating as one." With that he paced away from them.
"Two swords beating as one," Brienne said. "I like that."
Jaime smiled at her. "I never had Ned's blessing in life," Jaime said. "It's quite unsettling to have it in death."
"I think you should call it Winter's Wail," Brienne replied. "Surely Spring is coming…"