Chapter 1 from Alistair's POV

Excerpts brought together later from Alistair's diary, all events are in the correct order but unrelated events and details have been redacted. The original text has not been altered so at times there will be jumps. Alistair did fill in some details between these, but this may still not make for the easiest reading. These have been denoted in the text by being in [].

So counter to what the so called woman says, I am educated enough to know how to write and read. Writing about myself has never been a skill of mine, so it's easier to write like I'm talking to someone. I'm writing this because I've been convinced by our fearless leader that it would be a good way to keep track of things to tell the story after the blight ends. That's of course assuming it does, and we're able to overcome all the odds. However we have to stay hopeful, and so as a way to remain hopeful I'm going to do as asked. Also it fills the time when I could be worrying about other things I suppose.

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I've never seen sleep as a release.. or rather not for many years. Not as an adult. Sleep is a release is for children and innocents.

Before you wonder, I do sleep at night, and typically rather well. I've learned over time how to block out some of the more mundane calls of the demons. The boring meditation I was forced to learn at the chantry also helped me find a quiet place inside myself. I use that, and plenty of exercise to relax. In a way these activities create the space of mental emptiness that others get when they sleep.

My dreams are not of the pleasant variety, nor do they bring peace. In my dreams I must be on my guard in some ways even more so than in my waking life. This is a part of being a grey warden, and part of my path. I must pay attention to what transpires, and I need to be able to analyse what I have seen. In the past I would bring things that seemed of worth to Duncan, but now since I can't I have even more pressure heaped on me. Knowing how to bring meaning forth from these has never been my strong suit.

However, since Ostagar and our newest quest my dreams have become even stranger and harder to understand. Also more personal. I have become used to dreams of great events, horrible creatures, and places deep and far away. Rarely are the dreams I have these days my own, creations entirely of my own mind and relating to my own everyday life. I'm still not sure these more personal dreams are my own creation.

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She's been part of my dreams now for weeks, however, clouded the memories of those dreams on waking. At times I feel like she's just watching over my shoulder as I wander my own inner world. At others it's like I'm watching over hers as she goes about her business in the dream world. The oddest are when it feels she is standing next to me in one of the dreams where I hear the darkness speak. I can never tell how much she understands in those dreams, but I feel like it is often more than I.

Is she really there? She is a witch. A scary and terrible witch. A creature that the chantry would kill. Oh they would offer a non-violent solution - which they know she would never take - and would then joyfully fight her to the death. It would be long and painful, and the chantry would suffer heavy losses. They would do it anyway if they found her. They would be right to kill her and remove the threat she is from the world. If I were still a Templar I would fulfil my duty to do so. She revolts me. She terrifies me. She haunts my dreams.

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I've asked myself while going through routines and sparring - the best times to think - about this. What feelings are there to drive such strange dreams. Is there more to it than that? Could she be using her magic to affect my sleep?

As I sparred I made a list.

She's cruel. She has no honour that I respect. She's the living breathing embodiment of what I have been long taught is wrong and trained to fight. She angers me every time we talk. She puts me down. She will not hold back her opinion on anything. She does not suffer foolishness.

I am exasperated by this woman. I struggle to see beyond any immediate practical value in battle why she is part of our group. I'm also extremely uncomfortable with how much of my attention she holds.

The only conclusion I have come to is that it must be because of my Templar training. It's like having the nose of a bloodhound and being forced to sit next to a steak. Of course she is taking over my attention. Noticing her is what I have been trained to do. Nothing more and nothing less.

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I've been entranced by her fierceness. When we fight she's grace and form. She's rage and heat. She's strong mentally and physically.

There are moments of quiet in the storm when I'm fighting. My body is at work, and my mind at rest. In those moments I find myself watching her. The relaxed stance she takes when she concentrates. The details I find myself fixating on surprise me. The curl of hair at the nape of her neck. The strength of her arms. Her wicked mouth in a cruel smile. Her eyes dancing with the energy that comes from the chase of a hunt.

That's what she is. A hunter. That's what scares me. She is an expert hunter that knows her prey well. That's where her confidence comes from. But what does she hunt? She's too intelligent to desire a simple hunt for a simple meal. She wouldn't want to hunt game which could not interest her for sport. She is a hunter who desires the satisfaction of a challenging chase.

The thought makes me shiver. What kind of chase would she enjoy..humans.. sentient beings most likely. That is I think the core of what truly frightens me about her.

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I dreamt of her in her animal form. A great cat of the mountains. Soft pads and fur. She hunted by smell and sight and vibration. Hearing things humans cannot. Lithe, and oh so dangerous. I swear I felt the rub of fur on my neck right before I woke.

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She's gotten no less sharp with me as the days have gone on. Of course I still argue back. The horrid things she says cannot be endured. I will not give in to her malicious taunts or uncaring philosophies.

Even worse she has started to use her magic on me. I'm sure I've seen her playing with pins and a doll shaped like me. Doesn't she have better things to do then torment me!

I have suffered enough pain in life, that what she inflicts on me is a nuisance not debilitating. If I were a lesser man I would have broken by now.

There is no way to deal with this without direct confrontation. I've accused her of playing with dolls like a little girl, but she only smiles in the sickest yet sweet way and asks if I'd like to join her in her tent if I truly think of her as such a child. The idea makes me sick, which I've not held back telling her.

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I can't get the latest argument about the doll out from under my skin. She invited me into her tent again in such an overtly sexual way. I know she does it to illicit this response from me, but it is working. She angers me well past anything I could bear if I had not undergone so much training as a younger man.

Go in her tent? Go through those dark folds to see what mysterious and strange magics she's concocting? Never. I can smell strange, earthy things from her tent which pique my senses in the strangest ways. No. I will not go near there even to prove to her that I'm more of a man than she could handle.

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The dreams are getting more frequent and stranger. Of course the blight is coming closer and closer so this is to be expected. I've gotten used to her presence now at least here in my dreams. She never speaks in my dreams. It probably helps. She never argues or comments. It's not as if she even follows me. She's just there watching or vice versa. I have no idea if this is real or my mind slowly untethering from reality as it does fall all grey wardens.

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[I put off recording the following because I didn't want it to be true for a long time. The order of things is a bit skewed because of this, but I did eventually make the notes below.]

There are other dreams too. Stranger and more difficult. I try to forget them when I wake. At first I was surprised. Now I'm just ashamed. I dream of her. Her. Only her. Not a place. Not as an actor in a dream landscape, or even a silent companion watching the desecration of the land. No. Her. As a woman. All the tiny details I've come to notice.

Her herby and earthy smell. How her hair shifts color slightly when she's casting different magics. How her lips twitch when she's holding back a laugh. They all are played out.

I never remember how they start. I never know where they are taking place. Often I have no concept of our surroundings. She still never speaks, though she does communicate. I have dreams of resting on her kissing behind her ear. Breathing is her wonderful smell. I'm inside her slowly thrusting while massaging her breast. She's panting under me. Hips raising to meet my languid thrusts.

I dream about touching her everywhere while she sits in my lap riding me. Running my fingertips through her hair, over her breasts, gripping her ass, locking my lips to a nipple. Her writhing and moaning while sliding up and down me.

The first time I woke with a start, riding an orgasm with a groan. I was so confused. Then I just tried to put it out of my mind as stress.

The second time it happened I was awoken right as I felt her start to cum. My hard cock and confusion awaking me in the early hours. In my half awake state I could still practically smell her, feel her smooth soft skin against my chest, and her tightness starting to grip me. I sighed through a moan. Shame burned bright and hot but did not relieve my arousal. The only solution in order to sleep or get relief would be to attend to matters myself. I tried to think of other situations, other women.

These dreams have gotten frequent enough that I'm not sure if I relish or dread them. Either way they come unbidden. I'm still not sure she isn't using magic to affect me even when I sleep.

[Sex and relationships are not something I've made much time for in life. The hurts of my childhood left their scars. The chantry certainly didn't encourage sex. As a grey warden there has been little time for getting to know normal people, and even less desire to become embroiled with someone who can never understand. Still there have been a couple of people here and there.

There was a wonderful farm girl when I was a teenager. I learned a great deal from her. She made it clear from the start she was not going accept me leaving the chantry for her. Over time she revealed that she was in fact promised to another. I was greatly hurt at first, but she lead me to understand that relationships can be complicated. They did marry, but on a occasion she still bedded me, and on rarer ones invited me to the marriage bed. I never thought as a child to see myself in this type of thing. However, as an adult I've viewed this to be the best arrangement for me. It left me free in my life, but with a small corner of comfort. It also opened my eyes to the idea that comfort can take many forms. I've always viewed this as a very formative part of my life and one that was very healing.

There have been others of less attachment in my life, but as I have moved down my life's path these types of entanglements have not been important to me, and there has been little opportunity.

Now. Now of all times. The time when I need all my concentration to do my duty I find part of myself desiring a woman I despise. Should despise.]

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Things are only getting stranger. The fights during the day require my waking attention, and the strange dreams my sleeping attention.

I've started to look forward to dreaming of her. It is the only time when my focus is on something besides the immediate survival of myself and my companions. I no longer care if she is manipulating me through magic. I cannot be tormented by being allowed to possess something I desire.

I am sure I'm starting to go down the winding path of the grey wardens early. Perhaps it's the closeness of the blight. Perhaps it's Morrigan's magic. Perhaps I was never truly mentally well. I do not know. In those dreams and here are the only moments away from it all.