His new replacement for the lost hand is a dragonglass hook—a gift from his daughter. It's lighter than the golden hand—not that it's a hard achievement—and way more practical—again, not a hard task. The only downside are Tyrion's and Bronn's pirate jokes about it.
When he arrives, all three dragons are gone, each with a rider on them—Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow and Gendry Waters. "Bran suggested him right after his arm was cut off and he got a vision of undead dragons burning the Wall down", his daughter informs him.
After he writes letters to his aunt and Princess Arianne, all he can do is wait—it's all everyone can do. Bran is too busy warging in and out of Gendry's dragon to give them updates, but Alys notices the days following their departure growing slightly shorter.
He tries to ignore the apprehension settling in his gut by spending most of his time with his wife. "If we keep up like this", she says after their third lovemaking session in a row, one night, "baby Alysanne will come sooner than expected."
"I don't mind", he murmurs on her collarbone. "Do you?"
"I'd rather not have to fight while pregnant", she admits.
"Then I'll look for moon tea on the morrow", he replies easily, then goes for their fourth round.
It is the morning after when Jon and Daenerys come back, without Gendry. "He and Viserion perished in combat", Jon announces. When Alys asks why he's limping, he replies, "I injured my leg when I jumped off Rhaegal. We almost lost him too."
"And the undead?", he asks.
"One dragon and its rider shattered", Daenerys informs. "Another pair fell in flames, but we did not see them rising. The third flew back north, and Drogon refused to follow." She takes a deep breath. "Last Hearth, Dreadfort and Winterfell all burned down."
Bran already knew all of this, of course, so he's not entirely sad about the definite destruction of his ancestral home.
After the duo comes back, the days grow noticeably shorter. "This is happening sooner than in my world", Alys says, worried. "We must hurry before we are forced to fight completely in the dark."
"It might come to that regardless", Brienne warns her.
"Well, it can't", Alys snaps. "You think you can just carry torches to the fight?"
"No", he hears a voice behind them. He turns and is met with the red priestess he saw in his first visit to Dragonstone. "But we light up everyone's weapons, we'll have enough light."
Alysanne frowns. "I thought Lightbringer was a one-of-a-kind weapon."
"It is", she agrees, "but not just because it catches fire. If that was the case, Lord Beric would not have one." She gazes at the horizon. "The Queen is right", she says, startling Brienne with the reference to her official title. "The chances of us finding the Night Queen and fighting her before the Long Night establishes itself are dim. Our time and energy are better spent finding ways to provide alternate light for when we face her armies. I assume the eternal night is moonless?"
"In my world", Alys replies, "it was. Moonless and starless."
The red priestess—Melisandre?—nods solemnly. "I saw a pattern in the flames", she comments, as if talking about the weather. "We need three to defeat the Night Queen."
Alys' eyes go wide, showing off her coldly blue eyes even more, but Brienne steps in before she can speak up. "Three what?"
"I cannot be certain", she admits. "It was a repeated pattern. There was sacrifice too… but there always is, in battles like these. It didn't tell me much."
Why are those flame visions so useless?
"Well, regardless of what you saw", Alys says, "I suppose you have a role anyway. Even if it's just to bring us light when the Long Night comes for good."
Melisandre nods, and their conversation is interrupted by Lady Sansa's arrival.
Daenerys announces she and Jon will just wait for Rhaegal to recover to go back north. "The undead dragons are our greatest threat", she states. "They burned three castles in a matter of hours, and it was lucky that they happened to be already evacuated ones. We cannot risk them approaching inhabited homes."
"We know for sure one dragon is gone", Jon adds, "but, since we don't know if fire is enough to kill a member of the Night Queen's court, we might still have to face two dragons. We'd rather have the men face the White Walkers without having to worry about being burned."
"Ideally, our armies will only march when we get back", Daenerys says. "In case it turns out to be impossible, one of us will head back to call for the men. We ask for two volunteers to come with us. The last battle showed us that having back up is better than going alone."
Ser Jorah is the first to offer himself, and the Dragon Queen smiles wide at him before accepting it. The two exchange glances that… well, he thinks it's as obvious and he and Brienne were.
To his horror, Alys offers herself, and Jon promptly agrees. "You cannot", he shouts.
His daughter raises her chin, as defiantly as her mother. "I can, and I will", she replies.
"If you die—"
"Make sure I'll be born again", she states matter-of-factly. "I'm bound to leave you someday. There can't be two Alysannes in this world."
He doesn't have an argument against that, so he just reaches for his wife's hand and holds it tightly. He may not have raised Alys, but his heart breaks at the thought of parting with her. However, she is right; unlike all the other times he said goodbye to someone, his to her, whenever it came, would not be forever.
Lady Sansa insists on holding a small feast in honor of his wedding to Brienne. "You all but eloped", she tells her—former—sworn sword. "As someone who was your liege lady until recently, I think I'm in my right to celebrate the one good thing to happen in the midst of this whole mess."
The grief in her eyes makes it all too easy for Brienne to concede, and Jaime is not keen on denying his wife anything. The feast ends up being larger than initially planned when the Ironborn arrive along with the Dornishmen. "Where is the Reach?", he wonders aloud.
Daenerys hears and answers him. "Their forces are the largest, remember? They take longer to cross the realm."
Princess Arianne, respectfully but cluelessly, proposes a toast for the king and queen, and Brienne turns into a lovely shade of Lannister red as she takes a sip of the wine the Martell ruler brought with her. He chuckles and kisses her cheek. "It will be over soon, my lady wife", he whispers. "When this is all over, we can retire to Casterly Rock, Tarth or wherever else you want, and we'll raise our children with no crown above our heads."
"Wherever else I want?", she asks. "What if I wish to live in a small cottage in the riverlands?"
"Then I only ask you for us to stay far away from the Twins", he replies easily. "That castle might be more cursed than Harrenhal at this point."
She laughs, genuinely laughs, and he can't resist kissing her again.
After a few drinks, he hears Daenerys asking gods know who, "Should I just go back to Meeren? People like me there…"
"Khaleesi", he hears a reply, and he knows it's Jorah Mormont because nobody else calls the Dragon Queen that. "People will learn to love you here as much as they love you in Meereen. You said you wanted to come back home, and here you are."
"No", she pouts, and he's pretty sure she's either drunk or halfway to it. "I'm in the place where I was born, but no memories come from here." He turns to glance at her, and she looks a bit deflated. "I have no home to call my own."
"Then make one", he says before he can stop himself. "Dragonstone is nobody's home at the moment, and it's been your family's since before the Conquest. Even if you give up your quest to become Queen of Seven Kingdoms, there is no reason for you not to stay here and make it your home", he inhales, "as you should have always been."
She blinks at him, startled. "How can you say that", she asks, not with anger but with surprise, "when you helped end my house's dynasty on the throne?"
"I told you once", he replies, "and I'll tell you again: my only problem was with your father, for reasons you already know. I cared for the rest of your entire family—your mother, your brothers, your goodsister, your niece and nephew. None of you deserved the fate you got."
She sighs and looks at her half-full cup of wine. "We'll have quite a mess to solve when this is all over, won't we?"
"Yes", he agrees. Having three monarchs around, with each zone of Westeros pledging itself to a different one, is no easy problem to solve. "But let's focus on staying alive to take care of it. I'd hate for the crown to fall on someone's lap out of lack of any other possible candidates."
To his surprise, she smiles, nods in agreement and turns back to Mormont. Oh well, time to turn back to his wife.
He wakes up to a loud knock on his chambers' door. He begrudgingly disentangles himself from Brienne, dresses up and opens it. "I assumed you'd want to say goodbye", his daughter says, not bothering with a greeting.
"Can you wait for your mother to wake up?"
"Yes, but not if you decide to… have fun before leaving the room."
He rolls his eyes at her and closes the door. "Brienne", he calls, kneeling before her. She blinks lazily at first, then alarmed when she sees him fully clothed. "Alys is leaving and wants to bid us goodbye."
"Oh", she lets out, and her rough voice makes his heart race. "I'll dress up in a moment."
And in a moment, indeed, she's as clothed as him, and he opens the door to give Alys a hug. "Try to make it back safe", he begs. "I'm not ready to lose you yet."
"I'll do my best", she replies, but it doesn't sound much like a promise.
