Yes, a Wynne chapter - well, I wanted to explore everyone's POV (though I have no idea how I'd write Sten...) and this seemed story-important.
Boy
Wynne
Sometimes, when she sees Alistair, she can't help but wonder about her own son - where he is, who he is, now; whether he ever wonders about where he came from...
She shuts her eyes, breathing in, ignoring the sound of the Dalish.
Sometimes, there are tears; they are rarer now, but some wounds never quite heal, and there are nights she can no longer shut out the gaping emptiness where her child should be.
Of course, he would be a man now. The thought of having missed his childhood pains her more than she wants to admit, and she ignores the unshed tears that briefly make her vision swim, blinking them away and pursing her lips. She would have liked to meet him at least once before her time came.
She notices the assassin watching her as he sharpens his dagger, something in his expression she can't quite fathom, and looks away from his gaze, her mind wandering back to the Wardens in the forest around them.
So young. So naïve, though Amell tries hard to hide it - she was the same even at the Tower, and, in her eyes, the diplomatic, sword-wielding Warden will never quite replace the shivering little girl, kicking and screaming as she was taken into the Circle's security.
Then, of course, there is Alistair, joking, bashful, yet stronger than he will ever give himself credit for; there is something surprisingly pure, good with nothing to be gained from it, in him that she has not seen for such a long time.
She sighs, remembering the night he'd come to her holding a rose, nearly tripping over in his awkward denial when she asked jokingly if it was for her. At her questioning look, he haltingly explained that he'd found it in Lothering, the usual shield of humour traded for the burden of fragile hope. She enchanted it, of course. She understands.
Beauty is rare, fleeting, in this world; one must take it where one can find it.