I woke up at the beginning of the week with nightmares, again. The Nightmare and my own memories twisted my dreams against me, and even though the months that passed since Stroud died have been nothing but sleepless nights and etiquette lessons that I mostly sleep through. I don't understand why anyone would want me at this party, least of all Gaspard. I'm a Dalish elf who is from the Free Marches. I grew up in a tattered dress and with bandages on my feet to keep them from being torn to shreds in the streets of Wycombe.

I think I understand why Dorian is so homesick. Or I understand the manner in which he's homesick. He misses the feels of home, but doesn't miss the people there. I miss my clan, but I'd gladly send them into harm's way to help Wycombe. In many ways, Wycombe was more my home than wherever my clan ended up that day or week. Clan Lavellan stayed close to human cities in the hopes of stealing away some secret mage apostate. The Keeper was desperate and even a half-elf would do.

But instead she found herself without a First and putting more time and effort into finding one than taking care of the clan. Naturally, I avoided it like the plague and stayed as far away from the clan as I could, but even then it wasn't very far.

Dorian started sleeping in my room after I insisted that he needed something that was an actual bed, but when he offered to sleep in mine I panicked. I keep thinking I should tell him, but put it off. I'm scared to. We didn't leave that nightmare place all that long ago, and he doesn't say it but he's shaken up by what he saw. I am as well, and have to cope with demons of my own. You know, there was a small area we passed in the Fade?

It was a small graveyard with all of my companion's fears. I haven't told anyone that I've seen it, but the idea of those gravestones disturbs me. They haunt my dreams and my waking hours equally. Even now, I look at the sleeping form of Dorian and all I can think of is seeing his name with the word, 'Temptation' written below it.

Vivenne stepped up the lessons and Josephine started telling me how to play The Game with Lelianna dropping by with 'surprise tests' that usually resulted in me on the floor after she punched me in the gut for a wrong answer. In retrospect, all these missions seem pointless and useless. I feel like I failed Orlais, but I did what I could.

Going to the ball wasn't so bad, the entrance had everyone staring and the formal clothes were easy to move in. The hard part was trying to desperately not be called a 'rabbit'. If any humans I've ever met never deserved the slur 'shemlen' then these ones earned it and then some. The Shems laughed and giggled at me and my curiosity at recent events.

I learned the alienage of Halamshiral was 'purged'. Further questions to Lelianna told me more about the fate of the burnt alienage. I can't say that I hate city elves, but being Dalish to them is strange and a wonderful thing. I knew a few of them, but could never make any friends. They were always gone when I came back. Mostly murdered, but also sometimes they died of whatever sickness had crept into the Alienage while I was gone.

I guess mourning for people I barely knew started to become a regular pastime for me. The lonely Dalish 'woman' who went to the Conclave and came out changed forever. Sorry, it's hard to write linearly when you're a little drunk. I need to get this down before I have to do it with a hangover.

So I poke around the palace and discover that Orlais is just as bad as everyone says it is. The only one I trusted was Ambassador Briala. Even then, trust is a relative term. The woman was crafty, but she seemed to have the best interests for elves at heart. I unraveled the plot against Celene, the Empress, but I was delayed by Florianne, the Grand Duchess, who attacked me with a bunch of mercenaries and I opened a rift. The rift let through some powerful demons and we were all spent fighting them by the time I met up with Cullen to say to stop the assassination.

Shit, I was too gods damned slow. I should have just left the demons there and run. Then the Empress would be alive and I wouldn't have even more blood on my hands. I watched the knife slide into Celene's back as I reached for my bow. Too slow, and now she paid for it. At least Florianne didn't live much longer, as I sent an arrow through the bitch's head.

Ha, it made a noble scream and at least that was a highlight of the evening. I then blackmailed Florianne's brother, Gaspard, the jerk who invited us to the stupid ball, into becoming puppet... is it King in Orlais? No wait, it's Emperor. Ha, Emperor is a funny spelled word. Emperor.

Right, gotta focus. So, I basically put Briala on the throne. Then I sat out on the balcony -the spicy punch was not alcoholic, alas- and mostly tried not to throw up from the night's events. The weird witch woman said she was a part of the Inquisition now and I said fine. She's funny sounding, so I figure I might as well go with it. Also I was kind of out of it with all the craziness of the night.

Then Dorian and I danced on the balcony. I stepped on his toes some, but it was fine. I think we were both just happy to have this quiet moment together. I think I kissed him and just held him tight. I'm not sure but I might have been wrong about the punch. Things get a little more foggy after that, but after we arrived back at Skyhold, I got drunk again. It was completely stupid and irresponsible and I blame Dorian for the 'private rematch'.

I think I told him I was trans after the third drink. I can't remember much after that but I suppose now I'm waiting and getting more drunk as the night goes on. Dorian opted to get blackout drunk quickly while I realized I needed to write in the journal. He laughed at me for having a journal before throwing up off the balcony.

Now, I'm sitting here with a bottle on the balcony with a sleeping, drunk Tevinter and writing in this journal in what I hope is legible drunken scrawl. I good as killed the Empress, and even though I know it was her who was responsible for the death of hundreds if not thousands of elves, I find it a bitter victory. At least the... I don't remember what it is exactly, but it helps. It numbs the emotions down and stuffs them into the bottom of the bottle. I've forgotten about the Fade, mostly and now Orlais is a fading memory.

A toast to an Empress who deserved to have a better Inquisitor than I save her.

(spilled wine stains the corner of the page)

He doesn't hear it. A thousand quiet toasts across Orlais. They are made to honor the fallen and to remember their faces. A lot of the faces are children. I didn't have time to heal their hurt, but the servants there know something will change, and now they are waiting to hear from the Elven Empress. Shadows will bring them to the light, but the skeletons in his closet haunt him. They reach out with bony fingers and grab him by the throat. He doesn't want this anymore, he says, so he drowns in a bottle and waits for the morning after to wash him away completely.