[FIC] Dragon Age: "A Pack of Crumpled Sheets of Vellum" (Alistair) [for new_game_plus]
Title: A Pack of Crumpled Sheets of Vellum
Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Alistair, implied Warden/Alistair
Dedication:
kristalyn, for
newgameplus Round 1
Prompt: The request was for anything involving Alistair.
Description: Alistair, in his own words.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5,200
Status: Complete (It was finished in mid-March but authors weren’t allowed to reveal themselves until March 29th)
You can read it and leave comments at the original post here, or you can do so below. I have no preference.
Dear Goldanna:
Please forgive the possible impertinence of this letter, for I know that we have never met and I realise that it is not unlikely that you are not even aware of my existence. Should the latter not be the case, however, it is my sincere hope that you have longed for our meeting as much as I have. Ever since I discovered that I have a sibling, I have prayed to the Maker that my path will lead me to Denerim, that I may finally behold you in person.
It is not my intention for this letter to be our first communication; in fact, at this time I mean not to send it at all, though there is the possibility that it will make its way to you should the worst come to pass and I fall in our battle against the Blight. If such is the case, know that it was my every intent to keep you and your children and Ferelden safe from the oncoming darkness, and I apologise most sincerely for my failure. Please take the children and flee as soon as you can, for if we have failed, our capital will not be safe much longer. Should you need some coin or supplies for the journey, I urge you to contact Arl Eamon in Redcliffe. He will understand that it was my dying wish to ensure your safety.
For now, however, I shall continue under the assumption that this letter will never be sent, as it ought not to be. I suppose this is not so much a missive as it is a journal, a place to store my private thoughts. I have never been one to presume that my thoughts are worth recording; I am a warrior. I am no thinker. Such a task gets assigned to persons of a more philosophical nature than I. But after the events that transpired at Ostagar, I have found myself unable to stop the flow of my thoughts; they have been keeping me up at night until well past the campfire has been reduced to smouldering embers. I have found a measure of consolation in pretending I am relating them to you, so I wondered if it might help if I wrote them down, as our imagined conversations give me great comfort. Besides, we have developed a habit of picking up sheets of blank vellum on our travels, and my companion, our leader, is wont to discard them to make room in our packs for other items. I argued that we might find a use for them, and even if only for this, I am glad they will not go to waste.
I wonder if you have heard of the events at Ostagar. Is it as they say? Has the Teyrn convinced everyone of his lie that the Grey Wardens betrayed the King? I have no doubt that you have the wisdom to see past this obvious falsehood. I am a Grey Warden, you see, and what transpired at Ostagar was certainly a tragedy, but not the way Loghain tells it. He and his forces abandoned the King on the battlefield, and the Grey Wardens paid the price. Myself and one of my companions are the only Wardens left in Ferelden. The lives of many good men were lost, true leaders and fearless warriors whose skill and charisma I can only aspire to but shall never attain. First and foremost among them was Duncan, my mentor. Oh, how I wish he would have lived, so that you might one day meet him. He was like unto a father to me, and I am certain that he would have treated you with the same warmth and regard. I still mourn his loss.
The others do not understand the depth of my grief, though I do not blame them. They did not have the same bond with Duncan and the Wardens that I did. My companion, the other Warden, only joined our order on the eve before that fateful battle. I hold him in the highest esteem, for he has already achieved great prowess in combat and a more capable leader of our ragtag band of comrades-in-arms than I could ever hope to be. Yet I cannot help wishing he had known Duncan the way I knew him, so that he could be my brother in this grief as he is my brother on the battlefield.
The firelight is dying out, so I must end here for now. I suppose I ought to try to get some sleep. Tomorrow we depart Lothering at last, and though I do not know where our journey will take us next, I pray that it brings me one step closer to you.
With love,
Your brother Alistair.
Dear Goldanna:
I write you tonight from the Village of Redcliffe. I had not expected to return home so soon, but I am glad that our leader elected to journey here first, as I am certain that Arl Eamon will give us the aid we seek. I am disheartened by the news that the arl has taken ill, both for the sake of our cause and for myself, as Eamon is one of the only family I have ever known. Even before I found out my true heritage and the fact that he is in fact my great-uncle, he was one of the few who showed me true kindness growing up. I am indebted to him, and I pray the Maker grants me a chance to repay that debt now.
Strange forces are at work here in Redcliffe. An undead army besieged the village at night, so we spent most of the afternoon shoring up the local militia to prepare for the fight. With our help, they pushed back against the hordes, and we managed to slip into the castle, the source of these monsters, unseen. It turns out that Connor, the arl and arlessa’s son, is behind it all; he has been taken over by an Abomination, and his antics were a fearful sight. I do not know Connor well - he was naught but a tot when I left home - but even knowing that he is my cousin, the fact that he willingly allowed a demon into his mind gives me little sympathy for his plight. However, I am aware that it would sadden Eamon to see his son in such a state, were the arl conscious; so, despite my templar training obligating me to slay the mage before he does any more harm, I am committed to finding a solution that, if at all possible, preserves the boy’s life. Although the arlessa was never affectionate in her demeanour toward me, I was touched when she offered to give her life for the boy’s, and I do pray that it shall not come to that. All hope rests now with the Circle of Magi.
I suppose I ought to take a moment to explain a little more about my travelling companions, before I get ahead of myself. I had already mentioned our leader, appointed such because although I am the senior member of the Grey Wardens, I would prefer not to take on that role. I was not born to be a leader of men. He, on the other hand, is a natural, much to my surprise, as he is an elf and a rogue at that, as skilled at stealing coinpurses as he is at felling Darkspawn and whatever other nasties come our way. But I am not one to judge someone by the height of their frame or the shape and size of their ears. He has felled many a Darkspawn in battle already, and that is more than good enough for me.
Along the way, we have gained allies to our cause who have elected to accompany us. While I realise that we do not have the fortune to turn down aid when it is offered, I have questioned our leader’s decision to accept them into our party so readily. I mean, there’s Morrigan, a veritable Witch of the Wilds whose pastime is shapeshifting into a spider and observing men and luring them into her web of deception. Charming. She’s the daughter of Flemeth - the Flemeth - and the fact that that infamous apostate encouraged Morrigan to join us leads me to believe no good can come of this. I smell trouble.
On the other hand, we have Leliana, an Orlesian bard turned Chantry sister who believe she had a vision from the Maker that compelled her to join us. While it is not my place to question her beliefs, after spending years in the Chantry myself, I can say that the likelihood of the Maker speaking directly to one of His disciples is about the same as the chance of an Alienage elf becoming King of Ferelden. She seems to mean well, and she’s friendly (albeit she bats her eyelashes a little too much at the Warden, if you ask me), but I’ve heard the rumours about Orlesian bards. I’d about as soon set up my tent next to hers at night as I’d challenge a dwarf to a drinking contest.
Then we have Sten, the Qunari. There isn’t much to say about him because he does not speak much. We have no idea why he came to Ferelden, only that he apparently murdered some townsfolk and was locked up in a cage for twenty days before the Warden invited him to join us. That’s right, we’re recruiting roadside murderers now. It can only get better from here. The mabari war hound in our entourage seems plain and ordinary by comparison.
Still, I won’t be one to question our leader’s decisions. Before we entered Redcliffe Village, I informed him of the circumstances of my heritage. I had been afraid to mention it before, for I valued the fact that he has not regarded me differently because of the royal blood that courses through my veins. He seemed taken aback by this revelation but acquiesced to my desire not to be seen or treated as anything other than a commoner. I wonder if this has something to do with the fact that he is not human and perhaps does not grasp the complexity of our politics, but I also believe that his compliance stems from the kindness in his heart, and all the same, I am grateful for it. He is a good man, and I hope to introduce him to you someday.
That prospect does not seem unlikely, as it appears all roads lead to Denerim in due time, Loghain having set up the base of his operations there and the strength of our cause diminished until his treachery is brought to light. Rest assured, dear sister, that we shall be united soon. I cannot wait to meet you and the children.
With love,
Your brother Alistair.
Dear Goldanna:
It is strange to wander the halls of the Circle Tower and see the life I might have lived had happenstance not swept me away in the form of Duncan and the Grey Wardens’ Right of Conscription. I bear the templar order or the Chantry no ill will, but all the more do I realise that this life was never for me. It is a strange thing to consider - if there were no Darkspawn to fight, and no Blight to add urgency to the cause, would I be living that life? Should I be grateful, then, to the Darkspawn for steering my destiny in a different direction? Does that make me a bad person?
My mind has been thrown into turmoil many a time since we arrived at the Tower. Our leader stopped the templars from invoking the Right of Annulment, which is certainly not a decision to be taken lightly, but with Abominations running rampant, who would blame them for coming to the conclusion that this was their only recourse? Did I betray the order by not trying harder to stop the Warden? Yet I cannot help but cling onto his assurance that we can save everyone. I want to believe it, I really do.
We made our way to the top of the tower and vanquished the Abomination, Uldred, without using the Right of Annulment. I took pride in our victory until a young templar, Ser Cullen, accused me of siding with the demons. I know he spoke out of grief for the friends he lost, and I understand all too well the desire for revenge against those who wronged you, but his words stung all the same. It is becoming ever more difficult to determine whether we really do have justice on our side and our actions are guided by the right intentions. I’d like to think that any path that saves the most lives while bringing us one step closer to our goal of ending the Blight is the just and correct one, but that often comes at the cost of taking a moral stance on an issue. What does the Maker think of such actions?
I happened upon Duncan in a dream last night, and I asked him if we are doing the right thing. He looked as though he were speaking, but no sound came forth from his mouth. I called out to him, but he disappeared before I had the chance to ask him to repeat his answer.
Maker forgive me if our actions here have been deemed improper, but for now I must continue under the assumption that our cause is just, and that we have the wisdom to choose the right path when we arrive at a crossroads.
In confusion but with great love,
Your brother Alistair.
Dear Goldanna:
Our travels have taken us west into the mountains, on a quest for the Urn of Sacred Ashes, in the hopes that its contents will cure Arl Eamon. It seemed a fool’s errand at first, but you might be surprised to know that there was truth to the myths. We journeyed through ruins and caverns, battled a mysterious cult and a High Dragon, and endured a test of riddles to arrive at the summit, where an Urn of the correct description awaited us. Only time will tell if the ashes indeed contain the healing powers spoken of in legend, though we will have to make the return trip quickly if we want to have any chance of saving my great-uncle’s life.
When we left the Circle of Magi not a week ago, another companion joined us: Wynne, a mage. Compared to our other less savoury allies, she’s not so bad. She has this grandmotherly air to her that I find appealing, and she seems like a trustworthy person, even though she has a habit of talking down to me. She is helping me by teaching me how to mend my shirts. While such things might seem trivial in light of our mission, I do wish to look presentable when we meet. I want you to have cause to be proud of your little brother.
When we arrived back at camp tonight, I spoke of you to our leader and asked him if he might accompany me to visit you when we go to Denerim. He agreed. I am glad I have his blessing and support, and I am sure you will approve of him. He is no longer just my leader but also a great friend who has my trust.
I am seated next to the fire, writing, while he slumbers. Always he insists on taking the first watch, but I cut him off, for I know how much he needs his rest. I can hear him cry out in his sleep sometimes, when the all-too-familiar nightmares haunt him with the grim promise of the confrontation with the Archdemon yet to come. I only wish I knew of a way to ease his suffering. I may have gone through it myself, but that does not mean I wish this fate upon anyone else.
Would that saving the world didn’t carry such a heavy price...
With love,
Your brother Alistair.
Dear Goldanna:
Would you believe me if I told you I’ve met the Dalish? Truly! We came to the Brecilian Forest to seek their aid, and they are camped near the outskirts. I’d always been of half a mind that they existed only in legend, yet they are as real as you and I. They seem like formidable warriors, though mistrustful of strangers, humans especially. Whenever we walk through the camp, I’m constantly being watched through narrowed eyes. Creepy.
The Dalish elves were being afflicted by a terrible plague that was turning them into werewolves. No, I swear I’m not making this up. I met the werewolves in person. It turns out that they were mostly humans affected by an ancient curse, but we’ve lifted it, so everyone has turned back to normal, no harm done. In return, the Dalish pledged their support for our cause. I’d say it was a job well done, even if I have to wonder whether I’ll find fleas in my hair in the morning.
Still, the entire experience has taught me how little I know of and understand other cultures. I suppose it isn’t my fault, as growing up there was no reason to believe I would be spending my life surrounded by anything other than mages and other templars and the occasional noble, yet my recent encounters with nonhumans have caused me to feel ignorant and short-sighted. I do not blame them for not trusting me, for if it were me in their shoes, would I trust someone who has spent his entire life simply accepting the dogma that elves are lesser beings? I know better now, of course, thanks in no small part to our leader. But I understand their reluctance to believe that I am any different from the average human.
Well, that puts quite a damper on things, doesn’t it? Sorry, I did not mean to sound glum. I’ve just been wondering if I could ever live a ‘normal’ human life after this, after seeing what I’ve seen on my travels. Most likely not. I’ll probably go in search of the other Grey Wardens and continue to fight Darkspawn, though I do hope to someday settle somewhere close to you. I’d come visit you and the children every week, and I imagine you’d make shepherd’s pie and tell stories of our mother. You’ll do that, won’t you?
With love and longing,
Your brother Alistair.
Dear Goldanna:
Great news: we head for Denerim next! We are camped but a day’s march away from the city now; I can even see the skyline in the distance. In my mind, I picture you preparing a bed for me, though that is impossible, of course, since you do not know I am coming. I do so hope it will be a pleasant surprise.
Nothing much to report, but we do have a new companion, Zevran. I’d relegate him to the shady types in our little band. He’s an elven assassin, and he was hired to kill our leader, but his attempt failed, and the Warden recruited him instead. I’m not convinced he won’t try to knife us in our sleep, which is why I volunteered to take the first watch. To make matters worse, however, the assassin has practically flung himself in our leader’s arms, making overtly sexual comments with absolutely no sense of propriety. I was surprised that he still had his pants on the last time I checked. I hope the Warden is not taken in by this sort of behaviour. I know men talk of having urges, but - surely there ought to be a better way to satisfy them than by allowing that snake into your tent.
The sexual tension in the camp certainly seems to be on the rise, and I have no idea why. Perhaps it is all that depraved witch’s doing. The other day, our leader asked me if I’ve had - those kinds of relations before. I was not ashamed to admit that has not been the case, as our Maker looks kindly upon chastity, but as he boasted of his own conquests, I became slightly embarrassed about my own relative inexperience. Then he gave me quite a jolt by remarking, “I’m sure it would not be difficult for a handsome man such as yourself to invite someone into your tent.” I do not know that to make of that, but it made me feel... not uncomfortable yet highly confused.
What do you think? As a woman, is experience ‘twixt the sheets something you value in a man? Do you have any sisterly advice? Well, I suppose I might ask you in person as early as tomorrow.
In eager anticipation,
Your brother Alistair.
Dear Goldanna:
You must think me a fool, I know, and only in hindsight do I begin to realize that I should not have made so many assumptions about your eagerness to meet me. Still, was I wrong for wanting to believe that you could make a place in your heart for your long-lost brother? Despite your callous words to me, I know you are a good woman at heart, though I was sincerely disappointed in your admission that your only interest in me is the coin it might bring you. Whatever happened to the meaning of ‘family’?
In closing, I would just like to remind you of part of one of the most important verses from the Chant:
“All men are the Work of our Maker's Hands,
From the lowest slaves
To the highest kings.”
- Transfigurations 1:3
I pray that you learn the meaning of these words and of Andraste’s teachings, that it matters not what meagre possessions we might hold in our earthly existence, for regardless of the color of the blood in our veins, we are all born of the Maker and judged the same in His eyes. He will reward those who have faith and treat their fellow man with love and kindness.
May you be well, and may your children be healthy and prosperous. I shall not bother you again.
With regret,
Alistair.
Dear Duncan:
Not a day has passed when I have not grieved your loss. The other Warden and I have done our best to carry on the task given to us, but at every turn I find myself yearning for your leadership and counsel. The horizon grows dark as the horde of Darkspawn continues its approach from the south, and all of our efforts thus far seem powerless to stop it. We have tried to unite Ferelden’s forces under a common banner using the treaties, but it is likely impossible while Loghain holds sway over the nobility from his seat as regent in Denerim.
Still, I must thank you for recruiting the other Warden. You showed great foresight in allying him to our cause, though I suspect you already knew that. With your passing, you left big shoes to fill, but he has proven himself a capable leader in your stead, and I thank the Maker every day that that task did not fall to me. For my part, I have and shall continue to defend him and our cause as best I am able.
It has not been an easy road, and I have learned much as we travel. I had never thought of myself as having had a particularly sheltered upbringing, as I was more aware of the workings of the world than the noblemen’s sons I grew up around, but now I realize just how wrong I was to assume I know anything at all. Our experiences among the Dalish and even my conversations with our elven leader shed light on my ignorance and short-sightedness.
Still, the Warden has been very gracious and kind in his demeanour toward me, and I bear him great love not only for his leadership and skill in battle, but as a friend and brother-in-arms. His presence serves as a reminder that I am not alone, and I have no qualms about trusting to his wisdom in difficult situations. At times his words are a stab in the chest, but that is not because their intention was harmful but moreso because they ring true. Just the other day, he made me aware of what a sodding fool I’ve been for thinking that my sister Goldanna would ever accept me into her life, though he was supportive nonetheless, despite his own misgivings. I am grateful. I need someone like him.
Tomorrow we depart for Orzammar, in the hopes that we may fulfil the last of the Warden treaties by gaining the dwarves’ support. If our previous experience are any indication, we will not have an easy time convincing them to aid us, but after what we have already been through, I am tempted to say that there is not much that could surprise me anymore. I probably ought not to say that out loud, however, lest I jinx us.
Please continue to watch over us and send us your blessings.
With sorrow,
Alistair.
Dear Duncan:
I’m not sure what I’m hoping to accomplish by writing to a dead man. If the others knew that this is how I pass the time when I’m on watch, they’d surely look at me as though I’d become a maleficar and sprouted a second head. Still, I cannot help but hope that you are looking out for us from the Maker’s side, guiding us, and hearing the thoughts and prayers I send your way.
I have never beheld anything so foreign yet magnificent as the dwarven city of Orzammar, with its great halls of stone deep beneath the surface of the earth. I did not expect that such a place would be habitable, but while I would never willingly reside there myself, I can see how others have become acclimatized to it. I would miss the open sky and the fields and the wind, but this city has its own appeals, and it is certainly holds more light and splendour than I could have ever imagined underground.
Much has changed since you were last here, I expect. King Endrin succumbed to illness (though poisoning is also a possible cause), and in his wake two candidates vied for the throne, his third son Prince Bhelen and the nobleman Lord Harrowmont. In order to secure a promise of allegiance in the coming war against the Blight, we involved ourselves in the election and threw our support behind Lord Harrowmont. I wonder what you would say of that. The dwarves did hold the Grey Wardens in high esteem, so it is not likely a coincidence that the candidate we favoured came out on top. If we wield such respect and influence, do we have a right to interfere in the elections and political affairs of other nations? I know that we had justice on our side as well as the urgency of our noble cause, but something still bothered me about the entire affair.
With the dwarves’ support, we can now return to Denerim. Arl Eamon has called for a Landsmeet to let the nobility determine the rightful heir to the throne and hopefully oust Teyrn Loghain from his seat of power. He keeps insisting on putting me forth as a candidate, but I still have no desire for the crown. If they chose me, I suppose I’d have to make the best of it, but it isn’t the life I want. My duty is to Ferelden, but to the Wardens first and foremost, and even if we manage to slay the Archdemon, our future lies in peril while there exists no established order in our country.
I think I have managed to convince our leader that I do not wish to be king. Unlike my uncle, he actually listens to my opinion, and I bear him all the more love for it. We seem to have grown closer over the past few days, and I think a few of our companions have been spreading rumours about it behind our backs, but I care not what they say. Just being near him is more comforting than I have ever felt in the presence of another being. Would that I had realized this sooner, for now it feels as though we have wasted so much valuable time...
Please watch over us. We will do our best to make you proud.
With sorrow,
Alistair.
Dear Warden:
I wonder if you have any idea how much confusion your actions over the past few days have caused me. Please don’t take that the wrong way; I am not angry with you, only flustered by your words and my own incessant thoughts, wondering if I am simply interpreting them the wrong way. But I think (hope?) I am not.
Where do we go from here? Do we have time for these diversions when there is a world to save? Is it permissible for two Grey Wardens to throw all caution to the wind for the sake of what might only be fleeting passion? What if they do insist on making me king? Would you still have me, knowing I can never be yours?
With heartfelt yet cautious affections,
Alistair.
Dear Maker:
I kissed a man, and I liked it.
If this is considered a trespass, please forgive me and know that I have only love and good intentions in my heart.
Humbly,
Alistair.
Dear Maker:
Never mind my last missive. I take it back. I have nothing to be sorry for.
Yours (but also his),
Alistair.
Dear Warden:
Congratulations on your (ours, too, but mostly yours) success at the Landsmeet, and my sincerest thanks for deferring to my wishes concerning the throne. Though I would have served Ferelden dutifully if chosen, the Grey Wardens need me more. In any event, I am glad Loghain is dead, and I am confident that Anora will rule us well now that she is freed of his influence.
As for Riordan’s news - shocking, wasn’t it? I assure you that I had no idea that that manner of sacrifice is required of the Wardens in order to end the Blight. I’ve been unable to think of little else for the past hour. I never expected that our journey might end here. But fret not, my love; I pledged to protect you, and I will continue to do so, even if it means that I must take that final blow against the Archdemon and pay the price. Despite our personal feelings, we must not fail in our task, and Ferelden needs you more than I. The choice seems clear to me.
After all, this is what it means to be family.
If it does fall to me to make the sacrifice, please send my remaining possessions to my sister Goldanna, or sell them and send her the proceeds. I realize that after what transpired, you must not have a very high opinion of her, but despite all that, I harbour her or the children no ill will and wish only for their continued health and wellbeing. Also, if you do rebuild the Grey Wardens or seek out the order at Weisshaupt, make sure that Duncan’s story is told. These two things are all I ask of you.
Maker watch over us both.
With great love,
Alistair.
Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Alistair, implied Warden/Alistair
Dedication:
kristalyn, for
newgameplus Round 1
Prompt: The request was for anything involving Alistair.
Description: Alistair, in his own words.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5,200
Status: Complete (It was finished in mid-March but authors weren’t allowed to reveal themselves until March 29th)
You can read it and leave comments at the original post here, or you can do so below. I have no preference.
Dear Goldanna:
Please forgive the possible impertinence of this letter, for I know that we have never met and I realise that it is not unlikely that you are not even aware of my existence. Should the latter not be the case, however, it is my sincere hope that you have longed for our meeting as much as I have. Ever since I discovered that I have a sibling, I have prayed to the Maker that my path will lead me to Denerim, that I may finally behold you in person.
It is not my intention for this letter to be our first communication; in fact, at this time I mean not to send it at all, though there is the possibility that it will make its way to you should the worst come to pass and I fall in our battle against the Blight. If such is the case, know that it was my every intent to keep you and your children and Ferelden safe from the oncoming darkness, and I apologise most sincerely for my failure. Please take the children and flee as soon as you can, for if we have failed, our capital will not be safe much longer. Should you need some coin or supplies for the journey, I urge you to contact Arl Eamon in Redcliffe. He will understand that it was my dying wish to ensure your safety.
For now, however, I shall continue under the assumption that this letter will never be sent, as it ought not to be. I suppose this is not so much a missive as it is a journal, a place to store my private thoughts. I have never been one to presume that my thoughts are worth recording; I am a warrior. I am no thinker. Such a task gets assigned to persons of a more philosophical nature than I. But after the events that transpired at Ostagar, I have found myself unable to stop the flow of my thoughts; they have been keeping me up at night until well past the campfire has been reduced to smouldering embers. I have found a measure of consolation in pretending I am relating them to you, so I wondered if it might help if I wrote them down, as our imagined conversations give me great comfort. Besides, we have developed a habit of picking up sheets of blank vellum on our travels, and my companion, our leader, is wont to discard them to make room in our packs for other items. I argued that we might find a use for them, and even if only for this, I am glad they will not go to waste.
I wonder if you have heard of the events at Ostagar. Is it as they say? Has the Teyrn convinced everyone of his lie that the Grey Wardens betrayed the King? I have no doubt that you have the wisdom to see past this obvious falsehood. I am a Grey Warden, you see, and what transpired at Ostagar was certainly a tragedy, but not the way Loghain tells it. He and his forces abandoned the King on the battlefield, and the Grey Wardens paid the price. Myself and one of my companions are the only Wardens left in Ferelden. The lives of many good men were lost, true leaders and fearless warriors whose skill and charisma I can only aspire to but shall never attain. First and foremost among them was Duncan, my mentor. Oh, how I wish he would have lived, so that you might one day meet him. He was like unto a father to me, and I am certain that he would have treated you with the same warmth and regard. I still mourn his loss.
The others do not understand the depth of my grief, though I do not blame them. They did not have the same bond with Duncan and the Wardens that I did. My companion, the other Warden, only joined our order on the eve before that fateful battle. I hold him in the highest esteem, for he has already achieved great prowess in combat and a more capable leader of our ragtag band of comrades-in-arms than I could ever hope to be. Yet I cannot help wishing he had known Duncan the way I knew him, so that he could be my brother in this grief as he is my brother on the battlefield.
The firelight is dying out, so I must end here for now. I suppose I ought to try to get some sleep. Tomorrow we depart Lothering at last, and though I do not know where our journey will take us next, I pray that it brings me one step closer to you.
With love,
Your brother Alistair.
Dear Goldanna:
I write you tonight from the Village of Redcliffe. I had not expected to return home so soon, but I am glad that our leader elected to journey here first, as I am certain that Arl Eamon will give us the aid we seek. I am disheartened by the news that the arl has taken ill, both for the sake of our cause and for myself, as Eamon is one of the only family I have ever known. Even before I found out my true heritage and the fact that he is in fact my great-uncle, he was one of the few who showed me true kindness growing up. I am indebted to him, and I pray the Maker grants me a chance to repay that debt now.
Strange forces are at work here in Redcliffe. An undead army besieged the village at night, so we spent most of the afternoon shoring up the local militia to prepare for the fight. With our help, they pushed back against the hordes, and we managed to slip into the castle, the source of these monsters, unseen. It turns out that Connor, the arl and arlessa’s son, is behind it all; he has been taken over by an Abomination, and his antics were a fearful sight. I do not know Connor well - he was naught but a tot when I left home - but even knowing that he is my cousin, the fact that he willingly allowed a demon into his mind gives me little sympathy for his plight. However, I am aware that it would sadden Eamon to see his son in such a state, were the arl conscious; so, despite my templar training obligating me to slay the mage before he does any more harm, I am committed to finding a solution that, if at all possible, preserves the boy’s life. Although the arlessa was never affectionate in her demeanour toward me, I was touched when she offered to give her life for the boy’s, and I do pray that it shall not come to that. All hope rests now with the Circle of Magi.
I suppose I ought to take a moment to explain a little more about my travelling companions, before I get ahead of myself. I had already mentioned our leader, appointed such because although I am the senior member of the Grey Wardens, I would prefer not to take on that role. I was not born to be a leader of men. He, on the other hand, is a natural, much to my surprise, as he is an elf and a rogue at that, as skilled at stealing coinpurses as he is at felling Darkspawn and whatever other nasties come our way. But I am not one to judge someone by the height of their frame or the shape and size of their ears. He has felled many a Darkspawn in battle already, and that is more than good enough for me.
Along the way, we have gained allies to our cause who have elected to accompany us. While I realise that we do not have the fortune to turn down aid when it is offered, I have questioned our leader’s decision to accept them into our party so readily. I mean, there’s Morrigan, a veritable Witch of the Wilds whose pastime is shapeshifting into a spider and observing men and luring them into her web of deception. Charming. She’s the daughter of Flemeth - the Flemeth - and the fact that that infamous apostate encouraged Morrigan to join us leads me to believe no good can come of this. I smell trouble.
On the other hand, we have Leliana, an Orlesian bard turned Chantry sister who believe she had a vision from the Maker that compelled her to join us. While it is not my place to question her beliefs, after spending years in the Chantry myself, I can say that the likelihood of the Maker speaking directly to one of His disciples is about the same as the chance of an Alienage elf becoming King of Ferelden. She seems to mean well, and she’s friendly (albeit she bats her eyelashes a little too much at the Warden, if you ask me), but I’ve heard the rumours about Orlesian bards. I’d about as soon set up my tent next to hers at night as I’d challenge a dwarf to a drinking contest.
Then we have Sten, the Qunari. There isn’t much to say about him because he does not speak much. We have no idea why he came to Ferelden, only that he apparently murdered some townsfolk and was locked up in a cage for twenty days before the Warden invited him to join us. That’s right, we’re recruiting roadside murderers now. It can only get better from here. The mabari war hound in our entourage seems plain and ordinary by comparison.
Still, I won’t be one to question our leader’s decisions. Before we entered Redcliffe Village, I informed him of the circumstances of my heritage. I had been afraid to mention it before, for I valued the fact that he has not regarded me differently because of the royal blood that courses through my veins. He seemed taken aback by this revelation but acquiesced to my desire not to be seen or treated as anything other than a commoner. I wonder if this has something to do with the fact that he is not human and perhaps does not grasp the complexity of our politics, but I also believe that his compliance stems from the kindness in his heart, and all the same, I am grateful for it. He is a good man, and I hope to introduce him to you someday.
That prospect does not seem unlikely, as it appears all roads lead to Denerim in due time, Loghain having set up the base of his operations there and the strength of our cause diminished until his treachery is brought to light. Rest assured, dear sister, that we shall be united soon. I cannot wait to meet you and the children.
With love,
Your brother Alistair.
Dear Goldanna:
It is strange to wander the halls of the Circle Tower and see the life I might have lived had happenstance not swept me away in the form of Duncan and the Grey Wardens’ Right of Conscription. I bear the templar order or the Chantry no ill will, but all the more do I realise that this life was never for me. It is a strange thing to consider - if there were no Darkspawn to fight, and no Blight to add urgency to the cause, would I be living that life? Should I be grateful, then, to the Darkspawn for steering my destiny in a different direction? Does that make me a bad person?
My mind has been thrown into turmoil many a time since we arrived at the Tower. Our leader stopped the templars from invoking the Right of Annulment, which is certainly not a decision to be taken lightly, but with Abominations running rampant, who would blame them for coming to the conclusion that this was their only recourse? Did I betray the order by not trying harder to stop the Warden? Yet I cannot help but cling onto his assurance that we can save everyone. I want to believe it, I really do.
We made our way to the top of the tower and vanquished the Abomination, Uldred, without using the Right of Annulment. I took pride in our victory until a young templar, Ser Cullen, accused me of siding with the demons. I know he spoke out of grief for the friends he lost, and I understand all too well the desire for revenge against those who wronged you, but his words stung all the same. It is becoming ever more difficult to determine whether we really do have justice on our side and our actions are guided by the right intentions. I’d like to think that any path that saves the most lives while bringing us one step closer to our goal of ending the Blight is the just and correct one, but that often comes at the cost of taking a moral stance on an issue. What does the Maker think of such actions?
I happened upon Duncan in a dream last night, and I asked him if we are doing the right thing. He looked as though he were speaking, but no sound came forth from his mouth. I called out to him, but he disappeared before I had the chance to ask him to repeat his answer.
Maker forgive me if our actions here have been deemed improper, but for now I must continue under the assumption that our cause is just, and that we have the wisdom to choose the right path when we arrive at a crossroads.
In confusion but with great love,
Your brother Alistair.
Dear Goldanna:
Our travels have taken us west into the mountains, on a quest for the Urn of Sacred Ashes, in the hopes that its contents will cure Arl Eamon. It seemed a fool’s errand at first, but you might be surprised to know that there was truth to the myths. We journeyed through ruins and caverns, battled a mysterious cult and a High Dragon, and endured a test of riddles to arrive at the summit, where an Urn of the correct description awaited us. Only time will tell if the ashes indeed contain the healing powers spoken of in legend, though we will have to make the return trip quickly if we want to have any chance of saving my great-uncle’s life.
When we left the Circle of Magi not a week ago, another companion joined us: Wynne, a mage. Compared to our other less savoury allies, she’s not so bad. She has this grandmotherly air to her that I find appealing, and she seems like a trustworthy person, even though she has a habit of talking down to me. She is helping me by teaching me how to mend my shirts. While such things might seem trivial in light of our mission, I do wish to look presentable when we meet. I want you to have cause to be proud of your little brother.
When we arrived back at camp tonight, I spoke of you to our leader and asked him if he might accompany me to visit you when we go to Denerim. He agreed. I am glad I have his blessing and support, and I am sure you will approve of him. He is no longer just my leader but also a great friend who has my trust.
I am seated next to the fire, writing, while he slumbers. Always he insists on taking the first watch, but I cut him off, for I know how much he needs his rest. I can hear him cry out in his sleep sometimes, when the all-too-familiar nightmares haunt him with the grim promise of the confrontation with the Archdemon yet to come. I only wish I knew of a way to ease his suffering. I may have gone through it myself, but that does not mean I wish this fate upon anyone else.
Would that saving the world didn’t carry such a heavy price...
With love,
Your brother Alistair.
Dear Goldanna:
Would you believe me if I told you I’ve met the Dalish? Truly! We came to the Brecilian Forest to seek their aid, and they are camped near the outskirts. I’d always been of half a mind that they existed only in legend, yet they are as real as you and I. They seem like formidable warriors, though mistrustful of strangers, humans especially. Whenever we walk through the camp, I’m constantly being watched through narrowed eyes. Creepy.
The Dalish elves were being afflicted by a terrible plague that was turning them into werewolves. No, I swear I’m not making this up. I met the werewolves in person. It turns out that they were mostly humans affected by an ancient curse, but we’ve lifted it, so everyone has turned back to normal, no harm done. In return, the Dalish pledged their support for our cause. I’d say it was a job well done, even if I have to wonder whether I’ll find fleas in my hair in the morning.
Still, the entire experience has taught me how little I know of and understand other cultures. I suppose it isn’t my fault, as growing up there was no reason to believe I would be spending my life surrounded by anything other than mages and other templars and the occasional noble, yet my recent encounters with nonhumans have caused me to feel ignorant and short-sighted. I do not blame them for not trusting me, for if it were me in their shoes, would I trust someone who has spent his entire life simply accepting the dogma that elves are lesser beings? I know better now, of course, thanks in no small part to our leader. But I understand their reluctance to believe that I am any different from the average human.
Well, that puts quite a damper on things, doesn’t it? Sorry, I did not mean to sound glum. I’ve just been wondering if I could ever live a ‘normal’ human life after this, after seeing what I’ve seen on my travels. Most likely not. I’ll probably go in search of the other Grey Wardens and continue to fight Darkspawn, though I do hope to someday settle somewhere close to you. I’d come visit you and the children every week, and I imagine you’d make shepherd’s pie and tell stories of our mother. You’ll do that, won’t you?
With love and longing,
Your brother Alistair.
Dear Goldanna:
Great news: we head for Denerim next! We are camped but a day’s march away from the city now; I can even see the skyline in the distance. In my mind, I picture you preparing a bed for me, though that is impossible, of course, since you do not know I am coming. I do so hope it will be a pleasant surprise.
Nothing much to report, but we do have a new companion, Zevran. I’d relegate him to the shady types in our little band. He’s an elven assassin, and he was hired to kill our leader, but his attempt failed, and the Warden recruited him instead. I’m not convinced he won’t try to knife us in our sleep, which is why I volunteered to take the first watch. To make matters worse, however, the assassin has practically flung himself in our leader’s arms, making overtly sexual comments with absolutely no sense of propriety. I was surprised that he still had his pants on the last time I checked. I hope the Warden is not taken in by this sort of behaviour. I know men talk of having urges, but - surely there ought to be a better way to satisfy them than by allowing that snake into your tent.
The sexual tension in the camp certainly seems to be on the rise, and I have no idea why. Perhaps it is all that depraved witch’s doing. The other day, our leader asked me if I’ve had - those kinds of relations before. I was not ashamed to admit that has not been the case, as our Maker looks kindly upon chastity, but as he boasted of his own conquests, I became slightly embarrassed about my own relative inexperience. Then he gave me quite a jolt by remarking, “I’m sure it would not be difficult for a handsome man such as yourself to invite someone into your tent.” I do not know that to make of that, but it made me feel... not uncomfortable yet highly confused.
What do you think? As a woman, is experience ‘twixt the sheets something you value in a man? Do you have any sisterly advice? Well, I suppose I might ask you in person as early as tomorrow.
In eager anticipation,
Your brother Alistair.
Dear Goldanna:
You must think me a fool, I know, and only in hindsight do I begin to realize that I should not have made so many assumptions about your eagerness to meet me. Still, was I wrong for wanting to believe that you could make a place in your heart for your long-lost brother? Despite your callous words to me, I know you are a good woman at heart, though I was sincerely disappointed in your admission that your only interest in me is the coin it might bring you. Whatever happened to the meaning of ‘family’?
In closing, I would just like to remind you of part of one of the most important verses from the Chant:
“All men are the Work of our Maker's Hands,
From the lowest slaves
To the highest kings.”
- Transfigurations 1:3
I pray that you learn the meaning of these words and of Andraste’s teachings, that it matters not what meagre possessions we might hold in our earthly existence, for regardless of the color of the blood in our veins, we are all born of the Maker and judged the same in His eyes. He will reward those who have faith and treat their fellow man with love and kindness.
May you be well, and may your children be healthy and prosperous. I shall not bother you again.
With regret,
Alistair.
Dear Duncan:
Not a day has passed when I have not grieved your loss. The other Warden and I have done our best to carry on the task given to us, but at every turn I find myself yearning for your leadership and counsel. The horizon grows dark as the horde of Darkspawn continues its approach from the south, and all of our efforts thus far seem powerless to stop it. We have tried to unite Ferelden’s forces under a common banner using the treaties, but it is likely impossible while Loghain holds sway over the nobility from his seat as regent in Denerim.
Still, I must thank you for recruiting the other Warden. You showed great foresight in allying him to our cause, though I suspect you already knew that. With your passing, you left big shoes to fill, but he has proven himself a capable leader in your stead, and I thank the Maker every day that that task did not fall to me. For my part, I have and shall continue to defend him and our cause as best I am able.
It has not been an easy road, and I have learned much as we travel. I had never thought of myself as having had a particularly sheltered upbringing, as I was more aware of the workings of the world than the noblemen’s sons I grew up around, but now I realize just how wrong I was to assume I know anything at all. Our experiences among the Dalish and even my conversations with our elven leader shed light on my ignorance and short-sightedness.
Still, the Warden has been very gracious and kind in his demeanour toward me, and I bear him great love not only for his leadership and skill in battle, but as a friend and brother-in-arms. His presence serves as a reminder that I am not alone, and I have no qualms about trusting to his wisdom in difficult situations. At times his words are a stab in the chest, but that is not because their intention was harmful but moreso because they ring true. Just the other day, he made me aware of what a sodding fool I’ve been for thinking that my sister Goldanna would ever accept me into her life, though he was supportive nonetheless, despite his own misgivings. I am grateful. I need someone like him.
Tomorrow we depart for Orzammar, in the hopes that we may fulfil the last of the Warden treaties by gaining the dwarves’ support. If our previous experience are any indication, we will not have an easy time convincing them to aid us, but after what we have already been through, I am tempted to say that there is not much that could surprise me anymore. I probably ought not to say that out loud, however, lest I jinx us.
Please continue to watch over us and send us your blessings.
With sorrow,
Alistair.
Dear Duncan:
I’m not sure what I’m hoping to accomplish by writing to a dead man. If the others knew that this is how I pass the time when I’m on watch, they’d surely look at me as though I’d become a maleficar and sprouted a second head. Still, I cannot help but hope that you are looking out for us from the Maker’s side, guiding us, and hearing the thoughts and prayers I send your way.
I have never beheld anything so foreign yet magnificent as the dwarven city of Orzammar, with its great halls of stone deep beneath the surface of the earth. I did not expect that such a place would be habitable, but while I would never willingly reside there myself, I can see how others have become acclimatized to it. I would miss the open sky and the fields and the wind, but this city has its own appeals, and it is certainly holds more light and splendour than I could have ever imagined underground.
Much has changed since you were last here, I expect. King Endrin succumbed to illness (though poisoning is also a possible cause), and in his wake two candidates vied for the throne, his third son Prince Bhelen and the nobleman Lord Harrowmont. In order to secure a promise of allegiance in the coming war against the Blight, we involved ourselves in the election and threw our support behind Lord Harrowmont. I wonder what you would say of that. The dwarves did hold the Grey Wardens in high esteem, so it is not likely a coincidence that the candidate we favoured came out on top. If we wield such respect and influence, do we have a right to interfere in the elections and political affairs of other nations? I know that we had justice on our side as well as the urgency of our noble cause, but something still bothered me about the entire affair.
With the dwarves’ support, we can now return to Denerim. Arl Eamon has called for a Landsmeet to let the nobility determine the rightful heir to the throne and hopefully oust Teyrn Loghain from his seat of power. He keeps insisting on putting me forth as a candidate, but I still have no desire for the crown. If they chose me, I suppose I’d have to make the best of it, but it isn’t the life I want. My duty is to Ferelden, but to the Wardens first and foremost, and even if we manage to slay the Archdemon, our future lies in peril while there exists no established order in our country.
I think I have managed to convince our leader that I do not wish to be king. Unlike my uncle, he actually listens to my opinion, and I bear him all the more love for it. We seem to have grown closer over the past few days, and I think a few of our companions have been spreading rumours about it behind our backs, but I care not what they say. Just being near him is more comforting than I have ever felt in the presence of another being. Would that I had realized this sooner, for now it feels as though we have wasted so much valuable time...
Please watch over us. We will do our best to make you proud.
With sorrow,
Alistair.
Dear Warden:
I wonder if you have any idea how much confusion your actions over the past few days have caused me. Please don’t take that the wrong way; I am not angry with you, only flustered by your words and my own incessant thoughts, wondering if I am simply interpreting them the wrong way. But I think (hope?) I am not.
Where do we go from here? Do we have time for these diversions when there is a world to save? Is it permissible for two Grey Wardens to throw all caution to the wind for the sake of what might only be fleeting passion? What if they do insist on making me king? Would you still have me, knowing I can never be yours?
With heartfelt yet cautious affections,
Alistair.
Dear Maker:
I kissed a man, and I liked it.
If this is considered a trespass, please forgive me and know that I have only love and good intentions in my heart.
Humbly,
Alistair.
Dear Maker:
Never mind my last missive. I take it back. I have nothing to be sorry for.
Yours (but also his),
Alistair.
Dear Warden:
Congratulations on your (ours, too, but mostly yours) success at the Landsmeet, and my sincerest thanks for deferring to my wishes concerning the throne. Though I would have served Ferelden dutifully if chosen, the Grey Wardens need me more. In any event, I am glad Loghain is dead, and I am confident that Anora will rule us well now that she is freed of his influence.
As for Riordan’s news - shocking, wasn’t it? I assure you that I had no idea that that manner of sacrifice is required of the Wardens in order to end the Blight. I’ve been unable to think of little else for the past hour. I never expected that our journey might end here. But fret not, my love; I pledged to protect you, and I will continue to do so, even if it means that I must take that final blow against the Archdemon and pay the price. Despite our personal feelings, we must not fail in our task, and Ferelden needs you more than I. The choice seems clear to me.
After all, this is what it means to be family.
If it does fall to me to make the sacrifice, please send my remaining possessions to my sister Goldanna, or sell them and send her the proceeds. I realize that after what transpired, you must not have a very high opinion of her, but despite all that, I harbour her or the children no ill will and wish only for their continued health and wellbeing. Also, if you do rebuild the Grey Wardens or seek out the order at Weisshaupt, make sure that Duncan’s story is told. These two things are all I ask of you.
Maker watch over us both.
With great love,
Alistair.