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The child's wail pierced the air for the third time in a single night. It had only been a fortnight since he entered the world, but the deviously cherubic infant had already made quite the impression on the residents of Skyhold. Most waved Gilraena's frantic apologies away and assured their exhausted leader that sleepless nights were typical, especially in the first year. Besides, they were well aware of the consequences if they had chosen to stay once the Inquisitor's delicate condition had been revealed. Their loyalty never ceased to amaze Gilraena, and she desperately wished to locate the source of patience that seemed to dwell within every living being inside the fortress but herself. She assumed it would naturally bloom once she gave birth, but fate proved her wrong on that front as well.
Despite her lack of patience and sleepless nights, Gilraena did not regret motherhood. If she found herself growing frustrated, a tiny smile or gurgle was enough to melt it away. The amount of joy that rose within her heart when his pale blue eyes lit up as she soothed his cries with a lullaby could not be articulated in words alone. Truth be told, Gilraena often wondered how her parents would have reacted to the news if they had been alive to witness their only child becoming a mother. Her mother wouldn't have believed it and likely would have demanded to be at her daughter's side throughout the process. Her father would have rolled around on the floor in a fit of laughter and emerged with a tear-stained face. It would have been a happy memory.
The infant whimpered as he heard his mother stir, only to wail when she failed to quicken her pace.
"I am coming, da'len. By the Creators, I think you've inherited more from me than your complexion and hair color."
"I think it is possible that he has inherited your sharp cheekbones as well, vhenan. Though perhaps it is too soon to confirm my suspicions."
Gilraena whirled around to meet her lover's sly grin. "I've stopped questioning how you are able to weave in and out of consciousness without making a sound."
A smirk played on his lips. "Do not fret, emma'lath. It is a skill one can acquire after a millennia or so of restful sleep."
Gilraena opened her mouth to retort but was quickly interrupted by another wail from their son. A sigh of resignation escaped her lips as she leaned over the bassinet. "You are making quite a fuss."
"He is not one to stay his tongue when something ails him. He is much like his mother in that regard," Solas said as he strode over to her side.
Gilraena chuckled. "We are in so much trouble if he is anything like I was as a child. Even more so if he is a mage."
"We will simply have to remind him that burning another's smallclothes is not a proper method of conveying anger."
"Well, I fear we must disagree on that," Gilraena replied, gently lifting the infant from the bassinet and placing him in the crook of her arm.
Solas shook his head in amusement. "I fell in love with your mind and piquant wit. I did not consider the woman whose brilliance I have proclaimed more than once would take such delight in destroying the delicates of those who have wronged her."
Gilraena smirked and closed the distance between them with a light tug of his tunic. "You may try it some time, my love. It can be quite invigorating."
"I shall bear that in mind," Solas murmured as he tilted her chin and pressed his lips against hers.
The familiar current that pulsed through her body when their lips met ignited a desire that she hadn't fulfilled since the birth of their child. The responsibilities of leading the Inquisition and looking after a newborn did not leave much time for intimacy despite the fact they shared most of the responsibilities as well as a bed. A warm smile here, a supportive touch there. Perhaps a light kiss on the forehead between feedings and incessant meetings. She would have given anything to steal a few precious moments with him, even if it meant that she would walk away with nothing more than a heartfelt embrace.
The kiss was short-lived, as the infant protested with a pitying mewl. Gilraena could not help but laugh at the interruption. "I don't think the little one approves of our shenanigans."
"It would appear so," Solas replied, a grin adorning his features. "Or perhaps he is protesting the endearment. Have you given any thought as to what we should name him?"
Gilraena glanced down to meet her son's eyes. "He does need a name, doesn't he?"
"It would be preferable. I highly doubt he will enjoy being called 'da'len' in fifty years' time."
"Do you have something in mind?"
"I do, in fact."
Solas gestured for Gilraena to place the child in his arms. The Inquisitor obliged with a hint of hesitation. It was clear from his actions that Solas was a devoted father, but he typically reacted as if their son were made of the finest glass when asked if he wanted to hold him. She wasn't surprised by this, as she had been afforded the same treatment when their relationship was in its early stages. She studied his face with a watchful eye and did not find a single trace of hesitation. He looked positively content as he brushed his fingers against the child's cheek.
"How do you feel about Enansalis, da'len?"
The child cooed in response, and Gilraena felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips. "Enansalis," she echoed as she rested her head against her lover's shoulder and peered down at the child's delighted expression.
"Blessing."