He had a son.

The news had been delivered by a breathless runner just after midnight. He had been deep in memories when the knock had sounded and the abrupt noise had startled him out of his reminiscing. Rising he had admitted the man who had bowed and congratulated the new father. Alistair thanked him and once he was alone again had turned back to the fire letting the flames lull him back inside his head. Emotions waged a war deep within him.

He knew he should be glad and part of him was. He had a child. His duty to produce an heir had been fulfilled in spite of the odds against him. Shame flooded through him as he realized he would give up that gift to have her back again. Elissa. Maker, how he missed her.

Even now he swore he could hear her laugh. She would have scolded him, but her grey eyes would have sparkled with the laughter she was trying hard to hold back. They had often spoken of children, mostly of her nephew Oren and then Connor.

When their furtive glances and tender smiles had given way to a passionate and deep camaraderie he had found himself planning a life with her. They had taught each other how to love and be loved. They had seen each other through pain and heartache and when the nights had closed in around them they had found pleasure in each other's arms. Together they were the family that both had gone without for far too long.

And despite the fact that the taint coursing through their blood would likely keep them from having children of their own she had remained hopeful. When he had asked her about her own desire for children her eyes had danced and her lips had quirked up in a radiant smile. They both knew the likelihood of conceiving was low but that didn't dishearten her. She had been an optimistic person by nature and that had been one of the things he had loved the most about her.

She would have been a wonderful mother and a beloved wife. But that was before the fateful battle with the archdemon atop Fort Drakon. There had been tears in her eyes as she had brushed her lips against his for what would be the last time. He was fully intending to make the sacrifice for Ferelden and for her. What he hadn't realized is that she knew it. The tears had been her goodbye, the kiss her promise. She was leaving Ferelden with the best ruler she could and she was doing so willingly.

Her blow had stunned him enough for the Qunari to hold him back while she made that final, brutal assault. As desperate as he was he could not fight his way from Sten's iron grip. He had watched her fell the archdemon and then he had seen that act of heroism destroy her.

So now the child that should have been theirs lay on the breast of a woman he could never love. He and Anora ruled well together, he would not be so bitter as to deny that, but their arrangement had always been one of convenience and never one of adoration. They lived in separate rooms and had separate lives outside the public's eye.

You should go see your son. He heard her voice, heard the smile in it. Leave it to Elissa to tell him what he should do even now.

"I wish it was you, love," he said softly.

Vivid memories of them lying entwined and sated filled his mind. She would lay her head on his chest and listen to the sound of his heart as it slowly returned to normal following their acts of passion. He could almost feel her arms wrap around his waist. She would hug him to her, give him her courage. You will love him. He will help you heal.

He wasn't sure there was a way to heal but he would honor her enough to try.

The wing Anora occupied was quiet; the plethora of servants having disappeared after the Queen was comfortable and resting. The elderly midwife bowed her head to him as he entered but he barely noticed. His eyes were immediately drawn to the bundle swathed in blue that filled her arms.

"Your Majesty, may I present to you your son?"

He was frozen in shock as she set the child—his child—in his arms. His son whimpered softly but soon quieted as Alistair drew him against his chest and rocked him gently. A smile curved his mouth; he had seen Elissa do that when she had held a new babe in Redcliffe. She hadn't noticed his eyes linger on her as she had hummed a tune to the infant, soothing it back into dreamland.

He should have known she would be right. The connection he felt to his son was instantaneous and overwhelming. Calling it love couldn't even begin to do it justice.

His attention returned to the present, and for the first time in as long as he could remember it didn't hurt. Her memory would be his to hold forever, but he had something new to live for now, something to cherish.