![]() She slides down to lie alongside him, her long legs pressed against his. If you squint enough, staring up from the floor, it almost looks like starlight on the speckled ceiling. The unnatural ice all around them glimmers horribly in its light. There’s only one torch left burning now, and its glow is beginning to flicker. He tells her to stop fussing over him, and they both smile weakly, because he likes that, being fussed over, he’s always liked that. ![]() Slides her leather bracer behind his head, her fur cape and his discarded armor behind his back to prop him up. “And anyway I won’t leave you here alone,” she finishes.īrienne has done what she can for his wound, and works now to make him comfortable. When she raises it again her expression is determined, and a tear glistens along her cheek. ![]() “There is no after.” She chokes on the words, and for a few breaths her head drops below his line of sight. “With twenty miles between here and there, and a thousand wights? They were raising the barrier behind us. “When you go back.”īrienne keeps working, stuffing any cloth she can find against his gaping wound, attempting to bind it. Their other companions had fallen along the way they two are the only ones left of the band of ten that set out beyond the New Wall. “I hope,” she says brusquely, “that Jon was right about the White Walkers falling with the Night’s King. He knows the time is short, his life is draining away. “My hero.” His arms hang limply at his sides now, though his fingers still curl around his sword. “There now,” she says with tenderness uncommon to her, touching his face. The groan he lets out echoes through the cavern, and his face twists with pain. With a hurried apology, she drags him his body’s length over to the stone wall, and sets him propped against it. Watching him fighting for breath, Brienne lurches to her feet suddenly and seizes him under each arm. Like it or no.” Every few words he has to suck in another breath, fighting to get enough air. “Stop talking,” she snaps at him, fumbling with what’s left of his chestpiece. He had been impaled on the Night King’s blade by the time Brienne finished it. I was a mite distracted.” He laughs weakly. “Our two swords, Ice and wildfire together. “He won’t.” Her tone will brook no disagreement. Her hands press against the rising tide of blood swelling from his abdomen, making him wince. “You think we’ve done it?” he asks hoarsely. He too seems uninterested in his wound he looks only at her. “Jaime, Jaime look at me.”Īn unnecessary request. She keeps her eyes on his face, trying not to see the dark curtain of blackish blood where his belly is slit open, where her hands even now work to keep it all in. Brienne’s sword she’s left buried in the smouldering remains, just to be sure. In his hand he still clutches Widow’s Wail glimmering with the eerie blue blood of the Night’s King. He manages to smile for her – more of a grimace really. With shaky hands she pulls the helm from him, revealing his golden hair and beard caked in blood, and lets it drop to one side. Her white-blonde hair is streaked red and her eyes are wide and frightened. ![]() She rips her gauntlets off carelessly, her helmet already tossed aside. Brienne kneels over her fallen knight on a stony floor glistening with black ice, her laboring breaths clouding the freezing air between them. ![]()
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