Lifting the most recent painting the man examined it. It was a grove of sorts with twisted trees and colorful leaves hanging as if it took too much effort to flower, there were ruins there. They seemed as if they were once a gazebo or white marble, now broken and overgrown with green. In the ruins is a man, a man looking oddly like the newest Commander, Alistair was his name. Anders' tried to remember, but sleep boggled his mind. The lost man in the painting seemed to be sad about something, as he was doubled over as if in emotional pain.
A knock on the door startled the mage into dropping the painting loudly to the floor. Swearing colorfully he went to retrieve the piece of art as Velanna let herself in, a bowl in one hand, the other twisting the materials inside with magic. Ander's shuddered, even he found her tree-hugging magic unnerving.
"Oh please, do come in," he muttered, nearly angry as he went to place the painting back.
Apparently she didn't understand sarcasm, "Mm.. thank you." Continuing her way into the room, she took Anders' seat and started talking, still distracted. "I've come up with a new idea, using magic that induces sleep and mixing it with double the amount of a reversal effect. I will feed her some with her next meal. Hopefully it will counter-act whatever she's on."
Rolling his eyes, he held back a sigh, "How do we know she's 'on' something and not 'under' something? Hmm?"
Velanna looked at him for the first time since she walked in, her eyes piercing and uncaring, "Go to bed Anders, you'll be taking care of our newest guests more-so than Oghren, he can barely wipe himself."
Giving in to the bossy woman, Anders exited the room, carefully shutting the door behind him with a deep sigh. Not even a second after the door clicked shut, he heard yelling from a room downstairs. Eyes growing wildly, he threw himself down the stairs towards the noise, following the sound of rage.
"You sodding pike-twirler! I ought to skin you right here! Lemme go, you sodding-"
"Oghren! Please, calm down!" As Anders burst into the room he took in the situation. Alistair was up against a wall, nursing a nasty looking cut on his arm, Zevran was standing where Emily's desk used to be - as it had been relocated to an upside-down position on the furthest wall - trying to serve as a barrier. And Oghren... well Varel and Nate were gripping his arms tightly, nearly heaving him from the carpeted floor. As Felsi tried to quiet her crying babe.
"Hey! Hey!" Anger bubbled in Anders chest, they were making this much noise over a petty squabble while the Commander might be dead? How dare they. "Have you no respect for the Commander?" Alistair rose his head, thinking it was him, "She may be dead and all the noise your making might just stop her heart completely!"
"But this sodding arsehole-"
"Enough!" It was Zevran now, looking the scariest he'd ever seen. "Later, once you've calmed we shall speak on this, Oghren, but not till then. Alistair must get settled."
It took several minutes for the surprisingly strong Varel and lean Nathaniel to haul Oghren off, followed by the wife and child. Tucker stepped into the room as they wrestled him out, a confused smile on his face. "Mage, heal the new Commander's wound, if you would."
Since joining the Warden's Anders seemed to notice everyone took on a name that was not their own. It was like a little inside joke that never got old. Without a reply he headed over to the Templar slowly, healing him from a safe distance. Noticing the flinching the man was making, as if holding back the urge to sap him. "Thank you, Ser Mage..."
"Anders," the blond bowed slightly, keeping his guard up and his eyes on the man.
"Anders..." Alistair seemed to be distant before he shook himself back into reality. "Alright, so... I assume this is my office?"
Tucker took over from there. "Yes, let me escort you through the Keep, Anders, if you need rest, now would be the time to take it."
Exhausted and weak, the mage merely nodded before heading to his rooms, falling asleep the moment his dreary head hit the pillows.
"Now, if you'll follow me Commander-" Tucker was waving them on and Alistair swallowed hard before clearing his throat.
"Please... just... Alistair, while she is still... alive, she stay Commander." His discomfort with the title rooted from the memories of her leading them. He could almost see her leading the armies they gathered into battle, before reality washed over him. Tucker had cleared his throat.
Waving a hand the man walked them forwards. He led them outside into the courtyards where the bomb master and his brother were bickering over the dents in the new fortification, Tucker explained these things to Alistair as they walked. He led them to the barracks, where the soldiers of Vigil's Keep slept and trained, the houses of the families, and the large garden behind the keep. A man-made pond with fish sat in the center.
As they were being led, Alistair watched the man, he walked with the courage of a warrior, but the lean posture of a rogue. The man also wore armor around his own Keep, Alistair noted these things, wondering if there was a feud between the Grey Wardens and the regular soldiers, but he didn't see it.
Finally, as they finished the tour of the lower stories of the actual Keep, Alistair cracked, "What are you trained as, Ser Tucker?"
The man turned to face him, his face was lightly tanned, strong chiseled jaw with a slightly pointy nose, his eyes a vibrant green and his hair a soft brown. Oddly enough, he laughed. "Well, I'm trained as a rogue, but I fight like a warrior."
The expression he wore must've been ridiculous, because the man began to laugh harder, a rich belly laugh. "I was tossed out when I was a kid, grew up on the streets in Orlais and had to learn how to pick pockets, break locks and such, but once I joined the Order... I decided I needed to learn to fight like a real man." His grinned at Alistair and started walking again.
"...so, this is where you will be staying, you will not be getting the master room, the Commander..." His speech slowly slightly, with regret? "... that is where she stays. These rooms belong to the rest of the Senior Wardens, and the Junior Wardens stay down that hallway there. I suppose you should see the Commander."
Alistair nearly told the man no, but his throat constricted and he felt dizzy, how would he react to seeing her again? Would he fly into a rage like Oghren did? Would he just break down? Stealing himself and taking a deep breath he strode after Tucker, who was opening a large door for him.
He felt as if he was walking into the fade. That's what the paintings struck him as. Swallowing hard, the new commander looked to the elf sitting in a chair, watching something hidden from behind red silk covers. She watched him approach, she spoke to him, but he did not hear.
All he could hear was her voice, singing softly...
"In the quiet misty morning, when the moon has gone to bed..."
Alistair felt dirty doing this, following her as she struck out into the darkness of the forest towards Lake Calenhad, following the sound of her voice.
"When the sparrows stop their singing, and the sky is clear and red..."
He couldn't help it though, ever since he saw her in the heat of battle in only a nightdress, her pale skin glowing in the moonlight.
"When the summer ceased it's gleaming, when the corn is past it's prime..."
Heat rushed down his body as he remembered the delightful curves of her hips, nearly visible under the soft cotton she had been wearing.
"When adventures lost it's meaning, I'll be homeward bound in time..."
That was when he could see the water, there was little light from the sky that night, it was cloudy but warm. But he could make out her lithe form, stepping out of her armor as easy as if it were silk.
"Bind me not to the pasture, chain me not to the plow..."
Oh, how Alistair wanted to bind her down, and chain her up so she couldn't get away, the dirty thoughts rushing his mind made reel. Since when had he thought like that!
"Set me free to find my calling, and I'll return to you somehow..."
He peered at her from his hidden spot as she stepped into the water, just then the moon broke from the clouds, allowing the former Templar to view her body in all it's glory. Her hips looked so hold-able, her breasts so soft. Alistair was nearly vibrating with desire.
"If you find it's me you're missing-"
Alistair's foot broke a stick as he shifted and she stopped, spinning to look, but the moon's light faded, nearly as fast as Alistair stood and ran back to the camp, her song still lingering in his mind like an idea planted like a vine.
Awaking from his daydreams, the Templar pulled back the sheets to look at the woman he was once in love with.
With a cry of dismay, he jumped back.
That was not his Emily. That was not even human anymore. Her skin was the grayish tinge that the darkspawn wore, her hair thin and fragile.
Turning away, he met Zevran's downcast eyes. His own face green. "Perhaps we should get some work done." Purposefully, Alistair strode from the room, not even noticing himself in nearly each fade-like painting, he didn't care. A swirl of guilt, disgust, and anger drove him to take his new position like the man she'd have wanted him to be.