"Gambler at heart." Jaime Lannister said, trudging across an old stone bridge, his two hands chained before him. "Wouldn't have guessed it."
Behind him, Brienne gave a vicious shake of the rope.
"Be quick about it."
They walked a ways and then Jaime sank to the ground.
"Oh, I need to rest."
"Get up." Brienne snapped.
Jaime mumbled and complained about corns as Brienne tried to get him back on his feet.
Arya couldn't bring herself to care. Instead, she stared at her brother.
"Why me?" She asked.
"Because…" Bran thought about it for a long moment and she wondered if it would be her brother or the three-eyed raven who answered. She wondered what difference was really left between them.
Did Bran still exist, or was the Raven just showing her what he wanted her to see.
"Because…" Bran tried again. "You're the only one who can. Each and everyone of us have been moved by a million moments to be exactly where we are now, guided to exactly where we must be. It is you, because it must be."
A sudden out burst drew Arya's attention back to the bridge.
Jaime had disarmed Brienne and cut the rope that held him to her. His wrists were still bound, but he was free enough.
Brienne drew her second sword.
Jaime let out a grunt of a laugh and turned the blade in his hand.
"Never understood why some knights felt the need to carry two swords."
The two warriors slowly circled one another.
Jaime turned his back on Brienne and then smooth as a water dancer was facing her again, sword at the ready.
They too measure of one another, Brienne's jaw set in an unpleasant scowl.
"You move well." Jaime observed. "A great beast of a woman."
With that, he attacked. Their blades kissed and sang.
He drew back.
"You shouldn't grimace before you lunge. Gives away the game."
And then he attacked again, their blades crossed again and again as he drove her back down the bridge.
Brienne roared and lunged, but Jaime was too quick and danced to the other side.
"Bit of a quandary for you." Jaime said. "If you kill me, you fail Lady Stark. But if you don't kill me, I'm going to kill you."
Brienne's breath tore from her lungs in savage bursts of heavy fog on the frozen air as she raced through the dark woods. She barely knew the way in the light, having seldom had cause to kneel before a weirwood tree, but she knew the general direction and desperation was the whip at her heels.
Her foot caught a root and she toppled to the ground in a heap of clanging armor.
"Fuck."
The sudden, forced stop of the fall made her acutely aware of her pounding heart and searing lungs. The pain she could handle, it was the fatigue that would't be ignored. She'd fought many battle, but those all came to an end, but not this night. This endless night seemed to offer no respite to the weary.
She slowly rose, resting for a moment on one knee. Her body protested any further movement.
Gritting her teeth and digging deeper than any battle or journey had required before, she forced herself to her feet.
The sounds of Winterfell had faded, but she could now hear the sounds of a smaller, though no less fierce battle ahead. She was close.
The thought of Jaime, Pod, and Arya, the fact that any delay on her part could be the difference between their lives and death, drove her forward.
She'd failed to save Renley and been right beside him at the time. She'd failed to save Caitlin because duty had taken her miles away from the lady she'd sworn to serve. Again, duty kept her far from the lady she served. There was nothing she could do to protect Sansa. But she could hope to preserve one of Caitlin's daughters, she could fight beside her squire and the man she loved. That was enough.
When she caught sight of the blood red leaves of the weirwood tree, it was not the only red that met her gaze.
Swords clashed and countless divots dotted the snow from steaming droplets of blood sinking into the snow.
The chaos made it difficult for her eyes to focus on any particular sight. Wildings and White Walkers thrusted and parried in a deadly dance. Bodies sprawled across the upturned snow, a dusting of fresh powder veiling their faces.
A White Walker raised his hands and the fresh dead rose, eyes glowing blue.
The living were putting up a commendable fight, but what hope was there for victory when every man lost was a contribution to the enemies numbers?
Her pounding heart slowed with dread when her gaze found him. She never wanted to admit it, especially not to him, but her gaze always found him. Whether across a crowded wedding or on the battlefield, her eyes and heart always wandered to Jaime.
Even before she loved him, she'd been drawn to him. From the very start, she'd been more aware of him than any person she'd known before or since. It was as though there was a force tying them together. No matter how often they parted, they always found each other again.
But now… Now he stood as the lone sentinel between the Starks and the Night King. Brienne knew it was the Night King, not because he looked so very different from the other White Walkers, but because man and White Walker alike gave him a wide birth. The surrounding chaos didn't dare stray too close to the orchestrator of this nightmare.
And the only thing between him and the two youngest remaining Starks, one of whom he sought to destroy, was Jaime Lannister.
Brienne charged forward, blocking and slicing her way through barricade of bodies, barely aware of if it was flesh or ice in her path.
"Let me through. Let me through!" She hollered, for once grateful for her uncommon height. It allowed her to never lose sight of Jaime.
Jaime and the Night King crossed blades again and again in a dance that looked so different from the blundering movements of wildlings who praised force over form. It was like watching a work of art. Swords kissing and clashing in vicious passion. And one wrong move could mean his death. Jaime's two swords move in a practiced partnership that she wouldn't have believed possible.
But as she broke through into the inner circle, the dragon glass sword in Jaime's good hand was knocked from his grip.
It was all she could do to stop herself from crying out to him.
The Night King sent a well placed kick to Jaime's knee, and the one handed knight crumpled.
Taking the advantage, the Night King raised his sword to deal the killing blow. The glittering blade arched through the air to meet its victim.
Instead, it met Oathkeeper.
Blocking the blow sent bone rattling aftershocks through Brienne's arms, but still she held.
Ice blue eyes turned on her.
The Night King took a step back, drawing his sword away.
"Brienne… Don't." Jaime said as she moved into position to face the enemy's next attack.
She could see him struggling to reclaim his feet on his injured leg, using Widow's Wail as a crutch, but kept her attention on her opponent. If she let herself be distracted by Jaime, she knew she wouldn't stand a chance.
She'd faced the Lion of Lannister, the Hound, and so many others to get here. To stand before this man of ice. She'd learned long ago that all men could fall, no matter how big. By the gods, she hoped the same applied to death itself.
"I made a vow," Brienne said to the Night King, ignoring the aching cold of dread in her gut. "You want those kids, you have to go through me."
The Night King inclined his head, whether because he understood her words or just their meaning, she didn't know or particularly care.
In the end, understanding didn't matter. Right and wrong didn't matter. Loyalty and honor didn't matter. Only survival.
For she was all that was left, the shield against the oncoming dark. All that stood between death and everything she loved.
The Starks.
Pod.
Jaime.
The Night King's sword struck at her, the first time his full skill and attention was focused in her direction and it caused a terror she'd never known before, but she blocked the strike.
Their blades crossed then crossed again. Every blow making her bones feel close to shattering. He drove her back toward the weirwood tree with a barrage of strikes at such speed and intensity as to put to shame the exquisite swordplay she'd witnessed from Arya and all the brute strength of the Hound.
She was on the defensive and found no opening in which to gain the upper hand. It was merely a game of survival. Treading water against an unstoppable force until she no longer had the strength to fight.
Her arms ached, but still she blocked and blocked again.
As her guard dropped, her arms to weak to defend, the Night King knocked her to the ground.
He swung again, and she blocked.
The Night King kicked her in the chest, knocking her down to the ground. He stomped on her wrist, breaking her grip of Oathkeeper. She howled in pain, feeling bones break beneath the Night King's boot.
"Leave her alone!" Jaime yelled, drawing the Night King's attention momentarily away.
Her opponent turned his back on her, not considering her enough of a threat to concern him.
Brienne took the advantage, scrambling to her blade and grabbing it with her left hand, her right hanging useless at her side.
She crept up behind the Night King, who's attention was fixed on Jaime. She lunged, driving her blade at the base of the Night King's skull.
He sidestepped at the last moment.
She felt something sharp pierce her chest plate. She looked down and saw the rippling blade, twin of her own sword, sticking out of her chest.
Widow's Wail.
She heard a howl of pain that didn't come from her as she stumbled back in disbelief, the pain growing and swelling and burning like fire as the blade pulled free.
To be honest... I'm at a crossroads here. I can see a way forward with Brienne (yay!) and a way forward without her (sobs in the corner). I've been struggling with this choice for a long time and it's making it very hard for me to proceed. To be or not to be... To do the GRR Martian thing or to not kill my favorite character... That is the question.
The answer?
You tell me.