It had been nearly an arc since he'd seen the man. They had gone to Etzos together, anxious to find their son, who was being held ransom by the surrogate they'd hired. She looked a great deal like Alistair, as much as a woman could at least, and she had a sharp wit and a strong propensity for scholastic interests. Of course, she was the perfect candidate. She only needed to take on this job to help fund her admission into Viden University -- or so she said -- and so there wasn't the chance that she was actually a prostitute who would pass on copious diseases.
But unfortunately, as time came closer, they realized she had disappeared from Uthaldria. The next thing they knew, they received a letter demanding five thousand gold nels for the safe return of the child. Alistair and Fridgar were both furious -- she had given birth to their boy, and was now demanding extra wealth on top of it all? She had conned them - they did not even know if she really had the child, or if she'd just miscarried, or... what. And they weren't going to pay her thousands of gold nel only to receive a follow-up letter asking for even more. They knew that if they showed that they would give anything for their son, she would ask for everything.
So they went to Etzos, via sundial, and they found her. She was no longer pregnant, and she didn't have the baby on hand. So they demanded answers, and they finally received one. She had killed the boy - their boy - their precious son. In anger, Alistair diced her; she became an unrecognizable fit of mutilated flesh. Then, attempting to calm himself, he blinked far away and unleashed his fury in a scream and fit of magical devastation.
And that should've been the end of it. They should've moved on, accepted it, tried to have another child. They should've found a different surrogate who - perhaps - they knew as an individual, not as a contracted womb. But when Alistair tried to return to that place, to find Fridgar, he could not. The man was gone, and his magical tether to him began to flicker and go awry. It would send him in any opposite direction, and no matter which line he followed he could not find him. In one day, he'd lost his husband, and their son.
Renly was going to be his name, after Alistair's firstborn son of his past life, when he and Fridgar were Azzas and Aedan. It was a meaningful name that carried a great amount of weight for the mage. The name alone had memories of love, failure, and change all strung into the letters, and the awakening of a greater understanding between he and Fridgar. That child was his method of moving on, choosing a new life. He told himself that once he had that child, he'd forget it all. All of the damage dealt to him so early, all of the damage he'd done to his own family.
But Renly was lost.
And so was Alistair. He sat, in the corner of an alley, lamenting his loss. Begging the Immortals to at least grant him one thing: his son. Everyone he'd ever loved had passed on, and apparently the cruelty of this world did not even spare the fragile frame of a child.
He wanted to find that boy. Even if he was dead, he needed to look. What had she done to him? How did he die? How long had he lived for, and did he ever know love?
Alistair wanted to know. But every time he thought about it, he broke down in tears, unable to move. So instead of searching, he sobbed, lost again in that dark corner in the city where his son had passed on.