Brienne's heart raced, and her guts tightened. She inhaled, and exhaled slowly in an attempt to calm herself before the battle, an old lesson she had learned from Ser Goodwin. She tried to swallow but found her mouth dry. Her young squire Eric helped her with her armor, tightening the straps of her plate at her chest and arms.

Brienne clutched Oathkeeper's hilt as the boy continued to fasten her boots, he offered her a drink of water. Brienne gladly accepted, it was refreshingly cool and helped to relieve the constriction in her throat.

"When this is finished, travel with Ser Hyle Hunt to Tarth. I have left commands in a letter for my house. You are to be looked after, there is a place for your there." Brienne handed the flask back to the boy.

Eric struggled with the weight of the heavy long shield she had chosen, its edges curved inwards, Brienne hoped it would help to block the flames of the dragon better than the one that Jaime had held onto at the Twins. The metal was good, and the blacksmith had promised it could withstand a higher heat. She silently wished she had time to have had their arms placed upon it.

"If you could have one death My Lady, who would it be?" The boy's eyes were dark and serious.

It was such an odd question but something in his imploring eyes made her consider, and she simply answered, "Drogon."

The boy looked away and continued about his work, picking up her helm.

The field was the same one where Jaime had slain Robert Strong. Their positions had been reversed then; she had been on the sides, anxiety strangling her throat as she watched Jaime stepping on to the field, being unexpectedly named Sansa's champion, the girl's first stab at revenge on House Lannister. Brienne felt it had been much worse to be the one watching, with no control, seeing the man she loved march in willingly to an uncertain fate. No one had expected Jaime to survive that battle, but he had been the victor. Brienne smiled behind the mask of her helm at the memory. She had never been more proud of him as she was that day, he had fought with more fluidity and grace than she could ever hope. Now it was her turn to fight, her chance to be the champion, she could have been excited at the thought once, but now the happiness they had found with each other was to be ended and she could only feel sorrow for their loss. Jaime would have to watch her die today. I will try not to scream as I burn... I will spare him that.

The people had come out in droves, they were hungry, not just for food but also entertainment, a brief distraction from their cold misery. The dragons were serving as an excellent source of that entertainment. There was nothing more enticing than witnessing a dragon decimate a man or better yet a pretender lady knight. She wondered if there had ever been a woman to willingly combat a dragon in the histories, she could not recall any, and there was a small measure of grim pride in the knowledge that she would be the first.

High on her chair sat the queen Daenarys Targaryn. She was adorned richly in dyed embroidered wools of a deep purple; a white fur trim framed her beautiful pale face. Her silvery mane was pinned under a thick warm hood. Daenarys posture was not like Cersei's had been, she did not sit grinning with anticipation for Brienne's demise. She held an almost non-expression of one who must proceed with necessary business.

Targaryen banners of black and red flapped in the wind all around the battleground, for Brienne it made the pit seem gloomier yet. She walked further out onto the field, and recalled the horrible things the people had yelled at Jaime, she was thankful she could not decipher their shouting now, the voices all combined into waves of thunderous roars. The further she advanced unto the field the louder the crowds became, it was clear it was her blood they cried out for. Brienne hesitated to look for Jaime, but found her eyes could not help but search the crowd for him; she looked below the queen's chair, expecting to see him chained like Sansa had been, but she could not find him. An eruption from the crowd grabbed her attention, across the field a gate was opened, and through it came two pit guards, dragging a man between them, dressed in the white and gold of the King's guard.

They've put him in his old armor? Brienne's heart ached for him, knowing the sting that must have been. To be ridiculed again, wearing the armor he had been forced to set aside. His face was beaten, she could only imagine the fight he would have put up, most likely they would have had to dress him when he lay unconscious. Brienne pushed the pain aside she was feeling for her husband and bolted towards him, her movements made slow by her own armor. The guards chained Jaime's leg to a stake set in the ground at the opposite end of the field, and then scurried back to the gates from where they came.

In the distance Brienne could hear the thunderclaps of Drogon's wings as he descended from the clouds. He was swooping in from the east, heading in the direction where Jaime was staked to the earthen floor.

The crowd went silent; there was a thick fear that permeated the field. Brienne kept her pace, moving quickly and determined to get to Jaime before the dragon.

Brienne's long strides seem to not be enough, her heart sank as the velocity of the dragon seemed to be quickening, she was uncertain she could make it to him in time…

Brienne slid into the dirt raising her shield to cover Jaime, just as the blast of the dragon's breath swooped over them, Brienne blocked the flames with her shield, and she felt Jaime cling to her as the fire cascaded over them. His eyes were shut expecting an impact of fire; slowly he opened them to look at her. She wished she could have kissed him once more then, a proper final good-bye, but her helm was blocking her, and she needed to focus on holding the shield in place. Her armor and the metal of the shield served her well, the heat had been blocked by the leather lining inside her gloves.

The dragon took to the air heading towards the west, the once silent crowd roared with excitement as Brienne stood, unsheathing Oathkeeper, even through the metal of her gloved hand she could feel a strange coldness in her palm. It was a very odd sensation as the blade had always felt warm to the touch at the Twins.

"Now would be the time to elicit some cheers, give them a wave," Jaime said, still crouching in the dirt beside her.

"How can you possibly joke now?" Brienne was flabbergasted by his suggestion.

Jaime grinned and rose beside her, grabbing Brienne's wrist in his own, he thrust her arm into the air, Oathkeeper still in her hand, the crowds applause was more thunderous than ever. Brienne ripped her arm away, "Stop it!"

Jaime grinned at her, thoroughly enjoying her outrage. His grin dissipated as he eyed Drogon making his turn in the sky, heading back in their direction.

"How long do you think you can keep this up?" Jaime asked with a hint of worry edging his words.

"I don't know," Brienne wondered how long it took to tire a dragon, remembering the endless sweeps the dragons had made as they scorched the fields at the Twins, she felt it would be far too long.

"Behind me," Brienne planted herself in front of Jaime again, her sword in hand and shield raised, steadily she braced herself for the next wave of flame.

"You should try and strike it," Jaime offered.

"What do you think I am doing? Attempting to dance with it?" Brienne hissed.

The dragon spread its wings wide, preparing for another dive, its flames fell short of its target and Brienne ran forward meeting it with her blade, slicing its underbelly, the cut was deep, and a splattering of blood washed over her and Jaime, the dragon screeched as it clumsily flapped its wings, putting distance between it and its new threat.

Gasps and cries of shock could be heard as Drogon encircled the spectators, great drops of blood fell from the sky spattering the attendants. The dragon looked disoriented and ungraceful as it attempted to keep itself aloft, for a mere moment it appeared that it would crash into the queen's scaffolding, but the dragon managed to climb slightly before tumbling back into the pit.

The dragon angrily roared fire into the crowd, screams of burning men, women and children horrifically erupted from the stands. Brienne was hesitant to leave Jaime, but the cries of the innocents forced her to move her feet, she needed to get the beasts attention. Brienne ran screaming towards the dragon, waving her arms in the air, Drogon's head snapped toward her, its eyes narrowed at her with hatred glinting from those deep yellow pools. It blasted a mighty torch of flame at her, Brienne raised her shield and ducked behind it, feet planted firmly, when the flame had extinguished she gasped for air. She lowered her shield slightly as the beast came at her, its mighty tail flicking at her and flinging her through the air, she fell closer to the center of the pit crying out in pain as she smashed into the ground, shield flying from her hand.

Drogon galloped towards her, opening its great maw to reveal its blackened razor sharp teeth, snapping at her with ferocity, Brienne parried and sliced at its gums, she managed to land a few blows to its snout, and then something peculiar happened to its eyes; they clouded over as if a film of milk was poured over its giant yellow orbs.

The beast lifted his head, and Brienne seizing her opportunity delivered a mighty slice to Drogon's throat, opening up a wound that spewed a stream of gory red. Blood stung her eyes, and gushed into her armor, the great black dragon collapsed to the ground, his leathery wings and legs twitching. Brienne felt sick as she watched the beast lay dying, drowning in its own blood. She raised Oathkeeper and struck another blow to his neck, more blood flowed out over her boots and greaves. The beast's eyes rolled back into his skull, as the life of the dragon left it, the twitching ceased, and his tongue rolled out of his mouth.

Brienne could feel the tears rolling down her cheeks. In her heart she could take no joy in this battle, there was no honor in this victory.