Alistair was attentively watching the elven woman practice her spell. Once again he wondered if he was making the biggest mistake of his life. He turned around and started down the hall to the door that would lead him to the exit, away from Weisshaupt and away from her. He stopped in the middle of the hall and took a deep breath. Maybe the mistake would be to go back to Denerim without knowing.

Alistair stood still as he debated with himself what to do. He could feel his heart pounding furiously in his chest, his hands moist, his fingers cold, his throat so dry it hurt to swallow. He turned to face the door he just left. He could see a glimpse of her, her back still facing him, still concentrating on her spell. He took another deep breath and before he could change his mind he headed back to the door.

"Excuse me, are you Fiona?" he asked, hoping his voice was steadier than he felt.

The woman turned to face him as she answered his question.

"Yes, what do -" Her words died before crossing her lips, her fingers releasing their grip on her staff that collapsed on the stone floor of the fortress. "Maker..." she whispered, her face livid as blood was drained from it, her eyes opening wide. She stared at Alistair as if he was a ghost of a long forgotten past. Slowly she regained her senses, blood rushing back to her face. "I am sorry. For a moment I thought you were someone else." Alistair detected sadness in her voice.

"Wait, let me help you." he said as he picked up the staff and handed it back to her. She took it and he noticed her hands were trembling. "My name is Alistair and I..." He stopped in the middle of his sentence, wondering what he should say.

Was there a good way to tell her he thought he was her son? What if she wasn't the Fiona Maric mentioned? Deep down he knew there was no possible mistakes. She was his mother. Alistair supposed she knew too by the way she looked at him when she saw him. He tried to steel himself; he has often been in situations that made him nervous but nothing compared to this. He couldn't start babbling now. Maybe the solution was to take things slowly, try to know her before asking her. But before he could utter a word she spoke.

"You look so much like him." Her expression saddened. He noticed the tears in her eyes as she fixed them on him. She made a move towards him, her hand extending but she stopped her movement, her hand returning at her side. "Not here." she added before leading him to a small room.

He sat in a chair and let his eyes wandered around the room. It was small, filled with old books but no personal objects were decorating it. His eyes went back to her; she was staring straight at him, her expression blank.

"They promised." was all she said, her voice no louder than a whisper. She wasn't angry at the thought of the broken promise, instead she was sad. Was she trying to convince herself he couldn't be real?

Alistair couldn't hold her gaze any longer. He knew he was hurting the woman, forcing her to relive a moment she probably tried to forget over the years.

"They didn't break the promise they made to you. My wife found the journal Maric hid in his room. She gave it to me. I am sorry, maybe I shouldn't have come. It was a bad idea." He rose from his seat but she grabbed his wrist and made him sit back.

"I never thought I would see you again." Her fingers caressed his cheek gently, she smiled. "I thought it would be easier to let you go, but it wasn't." The sadness returned in her eyes as she leaned back in her chair.

"Why did you leave me then?" he asked, his voice quavering.

"Don't you see? I am an elf, and a mage. You are human; you had a possibility I never had. I wanted you to have a good life." She stopped talking for a moment, her eyes filling with tears. "So many times I wondered what you looked like, what you were doing, what kind of man you had become. At least I knew you were safe, Duncan promised us to look after you."

"My father, how was he?" Alistair asked shyly. A smile appeared on her face, her eyes brightening.

"He was a nice man. He was nothing one could except from a king." She laughed softly, her fingers brushing away a strand of hair. "How I hated him when we met but he never gave up. Always trying to be friendly, always talking to me even though I kept being mean to him. So many times I wanted to scream, tell him to stop talking. But when he stopped I realized how much I missed his constant chatter."

"Why hate him so?" Alistair asked curiously.

"I judged the title and not the man."

"What changed?"

"He promised to repay me for saving his life. I didn't trust him but he kept his promise; he saved my life. I understood he wasn't like the noble men I knew. He wasn't pretending to be a good man, he truly was." Fiona looked at her son fondly.

"I have seen him only once. I was eight." Alistair closed his eyes tight; trying to hide his tears as he recalled the painful memory. "I wasn't supposed to be there. I almost ran into him and when I looked up I met his eyes. His face was livid, he was shocked. I knew he wanted to say something but the words wouldn't come out. Then Arl Eamon arrived, he apologized for the incident and asked a servant to take me away. At the time I didn't know what he was to me, but that day I understood. I thought he acted that way because he had to face me, unprepared. I thought it was because he would have to accept the fact that I existed, that I would no longer be the illegitimate child without a face." Alistair brushed the tears he tried so hard to hold back all those years. "I thought he never cared about me."

"He cared about you more than you think. For a moment I thought he would refuse my request. I know he didn't want to let you go. He wanted us to stay but as much as I wanted to, I couldn't accept."

She laughed softly, the sound echoing in the small room. "Duncan told me Maric was furious when he learned you had been sent to the Chantry. He kept shouting at Eamon, telling him he trusted him. He wanted to get you out of there but Duncan was able to change his mind before he could do something. I admit I wished Duncan had been unable to reason with him, the idea of my son being a Templar..." her voice trailed off, she brushed her own tears.

"It was hard for him to accept but I think he understood my reasons. Too much were at stake, though I know things have not been as I expected for you." she said after a moment.

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't want you to be seen as a possible threat to his other son. And Maric never wanted to be king; I didn't want you to be in line for the throne, to be tied to something that brought him grief. And here you are, everything I never wanted you to be. A Grey Warden and the king of Ferelden. All I wanted was for you to be happy, to have a perfect life."

"I am happy." Alistair smiled at her, the words never sounded truer to him. "As a Grey Warden and as king, I am truly happy."

She smiled back at him, relieved. "Yes, I can see it." She rose from her seat and for the first time in years she took her son in her arms, tears of joy rolling on her cheeks. She stepped back from him, her hands on his arms and she took a good look at her son. He was everything she imagined he would be; tall, handsome and a good man.

"You spoke of a wife before." Her smile broadened, bringing a new smile on Alistair's face and coloring his cheeks a deep shade of red.

"Her name is Kayra. She is the most beautiful, most understanding and kindest woman I've ever met. We met at Ostagar during the Blight, she was Duncan's newest recruit."

"Yes, I heard of her. She is the one who saved Ferelden by defeating the Archdemon. She is now Warden Commander of the Ferelden Wardens, right?"

"She was. She decided to remain at court." Alistair's blush deepened as he smiled. "We are expecting our first child."

"This is amazing." Fiona whispered as she took her son in her arms once more. Not only had she been reunited with the son she had lost so long ago, she would now have a grandchild as well. "I will have to travel to Denerim soon to meet your wife. And return to meet my grandchild."

"I would love that." was all Alistair could say as he enjoyed the moment he had dreamed of all his life.

This concludes my story The Journal and the reunion between Alistair and his real mother. I hope you enjoyed it and thanks for reading and reviewing :)