What Was Left

Chapter 19

"Jaime!" Brienne screamed over the clamor of the battle that raged around her, suddenly oblivious to anything but the bloodied and motionless form of the man she loved in her arms. Her sobs sounded in her own ears louder than any of the shouts from the men who surrounded her. All around her King Bran's men fought valiantly within the Red Keep to hold back the encroaching Essosi soldiers. However, her world lay still and dying within her grasp. The enemy was slowly gaining an advantage over Jaime's own troops as he lay bleeding.

"Please don't leave me, again." Brienne begged as she cradled Jaime's face next to hers. "I love you." She confessed. "I never stopped loving you, not for a single moment." She swore. Brienne could not bear his death a second time.

As if in some tragically joyous response to Brienne's admission, Jaime moaned lowly and stirred in her grasp. A cry of desperation caught in her throat, and Brienne looked hopefully into his expressionless face. His eyes were yet closed, but she could hear his breathing. The rasp of Jaime's sigh sounded into her ear. She felt the shallow rise and fall of his shoulders as he struggled for breath. "That's it. That's it My Love." Brienne asserted. "Fight! Fight for us." She pleaded. "I shall not accept your sacrifice, not this time." She vowed, laying him back onto the ground.

Frantically Brienne tore Jaime's blood soaked tunic from his torso and used Oathkeeper to slice jagged pieces from the garment. These she carefully packed into the wound left by the Essoi's vicious blade. Brienne knew the bleeding had to be stopped, but prayed that she was not doing more harm as she shoved the fabric strips deep inside Jaime's ribs. He protested slightly at the pain, but then fell silent again. Any tension that remained in his muscles left him, his body going limp in her arms. It was then Brienne allowed her gaze to rise from her urgent work to behold the horrific sight ahead of her. The Essosi had breached the fortress wall. All around her King Bran's soldiers lay dead and dying. There were more than she could ever hope to sustain or even comfort. The invaders had gained control the Red Keep.

Of one thing Brienne was certain. She had to get Jaime out of there. Brienne imagined there was nothing some young Essosi, eager to make a name for himself, would consider a greater badge of honor than parading around the head of the great Kingslayer mounted upon a spike. She shook the horrible vision from her brain, and decided her course. The enemy would get no part of him, Brienne promised herself as something from deep within her made her retrieve Widows Wail from where it had fallen at Jaime's side. She sheathed the prized weapon in his scabbard before grabbing him tightly to her once more. She would not allow his death again, not while there was breath left in her body. Brienne was determined to see Jaime out of the Keep.

Defiantly she rose, hatred in her eyes. Disdain for those who would steal the life of her beloved, who had nearly cost that of her son, drove Brienne onward. She was an unstoppable force, as she hooked one arm across Jaime's chest and pulled him toward the same gate from which they had sent Galladon away only a few hours before. Wielding Oathkeeper before her, Brienne shielded his still frame with her own body. She prayed that her escape would not worsen his injuries. Brienne was the strongest woman in Westeros, yet he was a grown man and she was already laden with armor. The effort brought a strained groan from her throat. Slowly Brienne dragged a Jaime across the courtyard, dodging enemy blows as she went, nearly screaming from the torment in her own muscles. She would not stop.

Each step was an agony of both body and soul for Brienne. Her heart writhed in terror within her chest. Never in all the battles she fought had she ever known such fear. Never had she ever wavered, never had her hands ever shook. However, Brienne had never before clutched the body of the one she loved, the father of her child, imagining she could feel the life draining from him. Her very bones shouted at her for relief from the burden of hefting Jaime's frame with her aching muscles. Yet, Brienne's singular focus was keeping him alive. There was nothing she would not do, nothing that would halt her steps.