Chapter Thirty-five
Jaime headed straight for the battlefield, never looking back. The night air was cold around him. The wind had begun to blow as a light snow fell from the heavy clouds above. He ignored it all.
He was on a mission.
The gods above had chosen to curse him for what he had done, and he would not defy their judgement. He had earned his punishment. In the course of his life, he had committed many crimes, but none so unforgivable as what he had done to Cersei. Now, he would go forth and sacrifice his life in service to the gods. It was more than a fitting punishment for his sins.
A hollow ache settled deep in Jaime's chest, and he felt nothing but all-consuming emptiness. He walked mindlessly toward the battle. He had a single purpose, and he wasn't going to let anything stop him.
It didn't take Jaime long to reach the fighting. The defending forces had dwindled to practically nothing. Strong, brave men – Stark and Lannister alike – still stood, fighting for their lives and the lives of everyone they loved, but there were far too few of them now to make any meaningful difference.
Jaime drew Widow's Wail and headed straight into the fray. He felt nothing. Not fear, not anger. He was as dispassionate as the corpse he had left behind in Cersei's tent. All around, feral wights spit and gnashed and clawed at him, but he simply swung his sword and cut them down, slicing through them as easily as slicing through wet parchment. The enchantment in his hand had somehow made his whole body stronger, and it took no effort at all to fell his attackers as he made his way steadily toward his goal.
Above him, he still heard the screeching of the Targaryen girl's lone dragon, but it meant nothing to him. Even the columns of fire she poured down upon the earth were of no consequence. He moved stalwartly ahead, determined to find the Night King himself and put an end to this madness once and for all.
It seemed like hours before Jaime caught sight of his target, though time had long since lost all meaning to him. The Night King sat astride his decaying horse on a low hill overlooking the chaos below, the sword at his side glittering in the moonlight. He looked as if he hadn't seen any fighting himself but had spent the preceding hours observing and commanding, leading his minions to victory without ever venturing into the fray.
Jaime had hoped to sneak up on his opponent, to catch him unawares, but he had already lost the element of surprise. Even though more than a hundred yards still stood between them, the Night King already knew Jaime was there. He slowly turned his head, his blue eyes finding Jaime and sending a spike of cold dread coursing down his spine. Jaime felt as if he was looking Death in the eye, and it shook him to his very core.
Jaime struggled to shore up his resolve. He thought of Cersei, pictured her cold, dead body hanging lifelessly between his hands, and suddenly, he found the will to fight again. The fear drained from his body, and he adjusted his grip on his sword, knowing instinctively that he was never going to use it on the Night King himself. No, he would kill the Night King, but he wouldn't do it with his sword. He would do it with his hand.
As Jaime moved toward his opponent, his mind flooded with stories he'd heard as a child. Tales of Azor Ahai and his beloved Nissa Nissa and his sword, Lightbringer. Prophecies of the Prince Who Was Promised, Azor Ahai risen again to fight back the darkness. Jaime laughed to himself at the thought that he might be the celebrated hero come back to life to save the world. Although he had killed his beloved, just like Azor Ahai, there was nothing heroic about him, and he was certain this was all simply a cruel joke perpetrated by the gods. His glowing hand was no Lightbringer, but he would use it to stave off the darkness just the same. Not because he wanted to be a hero, but because he wanted to do one decent thing in this world before he left it.
The Night King drew his sword and lifted it into the air, his eyes still locked with Jaime's. An instant later, a thousand pairs of dead eyes turned in Jaime's direction all at once.
Jaime's heart froze in his chest, and his feet faltered. He stopped dead still in the snow, unable to take a single step forward. He had faced some overwhelming odds in his years as a knight, but nothing as daunting as the numbers he was facing now. He was one man against hundreds. Glowing hand or not, he knew there was no way he was ever going to reach the Night King alive.
And yet, he had to try.
Jaime adjusted his sword again, making sure his grip was secure. He took a single step forward, and suddenly, the surrounding army advanced, snarling and growling like hungry animals desperate for flesh.
The blood pounding in his ears, Jaime fought off his attackers, slicing with one hand and punching with the other. Wight after wight fell at his feet as he pushed forward, but more kept coming. Inch by agonizing inch, he gained ground, but no matter how hard he fought, the Night King stayed well beyond his reach.
Jaime cried out in rage, willing all his anguish into the fight. His hand grew brighter and more powerful the angrier he got. Thus far, he had been determined to keep his grief in check, but he realized now that his grief was the only thing that could save him. As painful as it was, he finally gave into the soul-crushing agony that was tearing at his soul. Instead of falling to his knees and succumbing to the enemy, he channeled all his emotions into his hand, causing it to glow with a brightness that lit up the entire sky. Suddenly, a pulse of blinding white light burst forth from his hand and incinerated every wight within a ten-foot radius, creating a perfect circle of peace and calm in the middle of the chaos.
The mindless creatures beyond the circle didn't even falter. They quickly filled up the empty space around him as if nothing had happened. But their commanders – the White Walkers and the Night King – looked on warily, and for the first time since he had set foot on the battlefield that night, Jaime thought the living might actually have a chance of seeing another dawn.
Jaime held his hand aloft, focusing all his energy on the end of his arm, concentrating on it, hoping to build up enough power to create another burst of light. To his right, he suddenly heard a raging war cry, and when he turned toward the sound, he saw Jon Snow racing in his direction, his sword slicing through the enemy as he charged ahead.
Jaime had never been happier to see a Stark in all his life. Jon's eyes briefly met his, and there was a quiet understanding between them. For the first time, Jaime knew he wasn't in this fight alone. Jon Snow would get him to the Night King even if it meant sacrificing his own life.
Another cry broke through the cacophony around them, this one louder than the first. Jaime glanced up at the sky to find Daenerys Targaryen and her dragon swooping low toward the ground, headed directly for him. For a moment, Jaime thought she intended to kill him, to put an end to the power the gods had given him and incinerate him right then and there. But that wasn't her intention at all. She swerved in front of him, commanding her dragon to strike. Suddenly, a great plume of fire tore from the beast's throat, creating a river of flames directly in Jaime's path. The fire purged the land of wights, clearing the way for him to reach his intended target.
Jaime was awed by what was happening. Lannister, Stark, Targaryen. They were all fighting for the same goal for the first time in living memory. And somehow, despite his innate cynicism, he trusted his new allies with his life. He knew they wanted to see the Night King dead as much as he did and that none of them were in this for the glory. It was a fight to save Westeros, a fight to save the living. And it was a fight they could only win together.
Jaime squared his jaw and refocused his attention on his opponent. The Night King sat off in the distance watching him with great interest. Jaime could feel the stump at the end of his arm pulsating with unspent energy, and he gritted his teeth, holding it back.
Jon Snow had not come to his aid alone. Those of his men who still stood joined the fight, shielding Jaime from attack as he made his way steadily forward. He no longer needed to expend the energy building up in his hand to ward off the wights. The dragon above him and the men around him were doing it in his stead. Free of the need to defend himself, Jaime concentrated on reaching his target and claiming victory for the living.
His hand glowed even brighter, radiating heat, warming the air around him. The snow melted at his feet as he walked, and Jaime felt a visceral sense of satisfaction. He was bringing the south and summer and fire to the Night King. He would destroy the Night King with his light, melt him to the ground as the summer sun melts winter snows.
When Jaime was no more than a dozen yards away, the path between him and his target completely clear, the Night King finally made his move. He lifted his sword again and spurred his horse forward, charging straight for Jaime.
Jaime's feet did not falter, his resolve did not fail. He kept moving forward, determined to meet the enemy on his own terms.
The Night King reached him in mere moments, but before he could strike, Jaime held up his golden hand and a pulse of white-hot energy burst forth, striking the Night King squarely in the chest. The sheer force of the attack knocked him from his horse and sent him crashing to the ground.
The horse stopped the moment it lost its rider, turning back and charging at Jaime, intent on running him down. Jaime swung at the animal with Widow's Wail, slicing through its back in one stroke. The animal instantly turned to ice, bursting apart on impact, its remains disappearing in the wind. But Jaime barely noticed. He quickly turned his attention back to his opponent and continued onward.
The Night King stood a few feet away, his ice-blue eyes fixated on Jaime's face. Jaime was long past feeling fear or apprehension. He was on a mission, and whether he lived or died, he was going to fulfill it.
Jaime stalked forward, determination in his stride. The Night King moved as well, his gait just as steady. Both Jaime and his opponent raised their swords. The instant they were in reach of each other, their weapons clashed, sending sparks of ice into the air.
Jaime had expected the Night King to be strong, but he was stunned by the creature's raw strength. Even with the power of the gods running through him, Jaime was barely a match for the king of the dead. It took all of Jaime's skill and cunning to fend off the Night King. He met the creature blow for blow, fighting to gain the advantage, fighting for time.
Jaime knew he needed the magic in his hand to destroy the Night King, but the last burst of energy he had expended had depleted its power, and he knew he couldn't simply summon up another pulse of light at will. So he stalled for time, keeping the Night King off balance as best he could as the battle continued to rage around them.
The Night King suddenly swung his sword low, catching Jaime by surprise. Then, he swung the weapon behind Jaime's legs, ice clashing against armor, and knocked him to the ground. Jaime landed flat on his back, the air rushing out of his lungs. For a moment, he lay there stunned, staring up into the darkness with unseeing eyes. But soon, the world came back into focus, and when it did, there was a sword aimed directly at his heart.
A spike of fear shot through Jaime's entire body, and suddenly, his hand glowed brightly again. Without a second thought, he thrust his hand upward, pushing it straight through the Night King's chest just as the icy tip of the Night King's sword pierced his own heart.
Jaime barely felt the deathblow. As the life began to drain from him, all he could see, all he could feel, was the Night King's body being consumed by the beautiful, white light emanating from his hand. It slowly turned the Night King to ice, melting and absorbing the bluish white crystals as quickly as they formed.
The creature made no sound as it slipped away, but its eyes stayed focused on Jaime's for as long as they could. There was hatred in those eyes, hatred as pure as the fires burning around them. It gave Jaime a startling sense of peace as the life left his body. He had done it. He had stopped the darkness. Now, he and Cersei could rest together in eternal peace.