Many thanks for your enthusiasm! I have a few more of these, to be updated as I have time and inspiration. This one takes place between "No Armor Against Fate" and "When Fate Summons", probably several times! Moderately NSFW.
The Archdemon's cries taunted him. It was getting farther and farther away as he chased it, knowing that once it was gone he would have lost … something. Something vitally important. Somehow not knowing what it was tormented him as badly as losing it. Alistair could feel the burning of his lungs and the slowing of his movement as the Archdemon disappeared into the distance.
He sat up in bed, his heart pounding. The dreams weren't as bad as they used to be, but now there was no counteraction for them, either. The bed he slept in was empty, the fire in his room down to embers that gave no warmth at all.
If he had his way, there would be someone kneeling next to the fire, poking and stirring it until it crackled to life, warming and lighting the room. She would sit back on her haunches and turn to smile at him, teasing him about letting a little thing like an Archdemon get to him. Her hair would gleam in the firelight, as red as the glowing coals. She would rise to her feet, suddenly naked, and walk across the room to the bed, her hair caressing her body as she moved, like a living curtain of flame.
He would reach out from the bed, lifting her up until her small body curled in his lap, her warmth filling him and chasing away the last vestiges of the dream. Then she would rise to her knees and kiss him, and there would be nothing left in the world but the two of them, the taste and scent of her all around him. His hands would weave through the silk of her hair, finding her soft skin underneath and caressing until she gasped with her pleasure, leaning back with her eyes half-closed and her lower lip caught between her teeth. Soon she would be moving atop him, her breasts sliding against his chest, their tips hard and begging for his mouth.
Her body would tighten around him as she reached her climax, and he would follow, the blissful release spreading through him and easing all the tension in him. They would kiss and touch, slipping under the covers together, telling sleepy jokes until they fell asleep in each other's arms, all nightmares dispelled.
A log shifted in the fire, and Alistair jumped at the sound. His hand was still on himself, sticky with spilled seed, and his cheeks were wet with tears. He reached for a towel to clean himself off and then curled up on his side, staring into the darkness. The nightmares weren't half as bad as the aftermath.