A/N: I promise things will start to pick up soon, drama will ensue and tears will be shed. Not to mention the blood. So much blood...

Please R&R.

Mumbling incoherently, he listened to the sound of his own feet clicking against the stone floor outside the room. It was the one day that the 'officers' as she had once deemed them, were allowed to sit back and relax. But there was no relaxing for Tucker. Russell rubbed his hands over his weary face, before snapping to attention at the sound of movement from inside the room. The female mage's harsh tone monotone as she wrote, watching Commander Cousland as she screamed in rage and moved against the bonds holding her down. Her rages were becoming more frequent and her other periods less.

It had been nearly a week now, since the new commander, Alistair, had arrived. Tucker had seen little of the man, who spent most of his time holed up in an office doing paper-work, or watching the recruits from a distance. He did not eat with the Wardens, he did not speak with the Wardens. Only two people conversed with the new Commander, Zevran and Varel.

Things had been surprisingly easy since he'd shown up, other than keeping him and Oghren separated. And damn could that dwarf throw a punch, Tucker rubbed a tanned hand against his slightly bruised jaw. There was a connection there, between these people. Trying as hard as he could, Tucker could remember some of the Commander's drunken story-telling about her days in the blight.

Could this Alistair be the unnamed knight from her tale? Tucker thought on it, as he paced outside the room. Unlikely, he was too... quiet and sombre, so unlike the man she had described.

The opening of the door startled him back into the present, snapping to attention in front of the weary elven mage. Velanna looked at him, her green eyes oddly sharp, "Your pacing is becoming irritating, please remove yourself from the hall so I may note the process more accurately."

And the door was once again closed.

Heaving a sigh, the rogue warrior left in search of food.

Alistair felt it as his stomach whined in protest. He tried glaring at his abdomen to make it stop, but that didn't seem to work. He tried telling it to wait, it also didn't work. And so, the new commander, who was nervous in his own keep wandered out into the halls.

He kept his head down, as if he would look up and see her standing there, arms crossed over her chest, lips pressed into a tight line, and her brows knotted in the familiar look of disappointment. Was that what he was afraid of? She would awaken and be utterly disappointed in him? Or that she would just simply ignore him, as he had her pleas. His stomach clenched, and then cried out for nourishment.

Turning the last corner before his destination, Alistair rose his head to catch sight with Tucker, who noticed him at the same time. Warm brown met deep green and they both stopped as they regarded each other, Tucker nodded his head and held the kitchen's door open. "After you... Commander."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Alistair stepped through the door, listening as Tucker trailed after him. Silently, Alistair collected food for himself, his gut told him to eat, but his mind was telling him to flee. When Tucker, looking equally torn waved Alistair into a seat, he knew he could not refuse. Taking the seat across from the other man, they began to eat in an awkward silence.

Clearing his throat, Alistair looked up at the other man, his brown hair slightly shagged around his forehead. "So... how did you... meet the commander?"

The wrong question to ask, Tucker's brows furrowed his eyes boring into the table. Alistair shifted uncomfortable as the man spoke. His accent only barely noticeable, "I came with the other Orlesian Wardens who came to welcome Emily into her position. But the keep was attacked by darkspawn. I had been fighting, my brethren all dead, a regular soldier the only man at my side, when she burst into the room, shouting orders at her men. I had been visibly injured, a gash along my chest.

She pulled me from the fray and into the arms of the mage; Anders, who healed me. I was in too much shock to join the fighting. I watched as she... she slaughtered them. They had no chance against her blade."

Alistair nodded at the right times, his eyes now on the fruit on his plate.

"Once they were all dead, she came over to me, eyes gleaming with a smile on her face and asked, 'You alright there, 'hun?' Before helping me to my feet and dragging me along with her to eradicate the rest of them."

"Ah."

"Did you know her, from... before the Archdemon, I mean. She spoke of a man she travelled with," the templar's head popped up, "but she mentioned he was a Qunari..."

Coughing lightly, Alistair rubbed his face with his hands, "Uh, yes we were... um... close."

The man across the table lifted his head, a small grin touching his face, the perfection in his face structure almost made Alistair jealous. Almost. "Do you have any stories about her? I'm sure the men," after a second hesitation he added his afterthought, "and women, would enjoy knowing more. She was always very open with us..."

His brow rose at the offer, before nodded numbly, "I could do that, I did... travel with her for a short period during the Blight."

Tucker gave Alistair a look, a look he couldn't read. Thinking he said too much, his hands flew up to gesture wildly, what would he say? His brain shot out on him.

But the other man only smiled, "Good! We need to keep them reminded about her, lest they forget. She'd be quite angry about that, when she woke up. She may even take personal offense." Tucker's grin spread over his face to touch his eyes, as if he just told an inside joke, "And no one would like that."

Alistair tried to piece it all together, but he just nodded again, the other man stood, bowed and headed out from the kitchen's, leaving a bewildered Alistair to his thoughts and his cheese.