The knight-commander's arrival to her dimlit Gallows office never once went without pageantry or notice. Orsino, that ever-subverted neighbor of hers - perhaps an arrangement meant to encourage amity between the two, or simply one of the Maker's finest cosmic practical jokes - came to know her quickly as the type who was never announced but always expected, let all outlaws tremble and apostates beware. The enchanter's magic-laced blood practically pulsed in perfect harmony with her calculated steps, alongside the rhythmic tap, tap of his pen, so ingrained was her daily approach in his routine; she'd become as predictable a part of it as attending to apprentices or brewing his afternoon tea. Loath as he'd be to admit it, even to himself, it'd developed into something of a daily highlight, the solitary reprieve he welcomed from the monotony that had consumed his position. When the two weren't at odds, when all Gallows business proceeded smoothly and all was right with the viscount, the quiet between them swirled soft as satin and he couldn't help but indulge, allowing his near-constant grimace to slip into a comfortable smile.
Meredith.
Never a day went by, in the early days after Orsino's promotion, that he wasn't reminded how trouble and thunderstorms brewed within his counterpart like the Fereldan breakfast tea to which he'd taken such an unexpected liking. It was made abundantly clear from the beginning that she expected compliance, nothing less, that second chances were not in her repertoire and that his position relative to her left his hands almost inexorably tied. She suffered no threat to her power or invitation to midmorning brunch; in both instances, she swore she'd see him executed the very next time he presumed to devalue her time in such a manner.
She never did.
On this particular eve, Meredith had arrived late, and her absence resonated through the hollow afternoon just as insistent and pervasive as her presence. The enchanter's smile softened even further, as internally he chastised himself for spending what remained of his day doing little aside from awaiting her; after all, she was a busy woman, one who couldn't be held even by the confines of clockwork, and every routine had its disruptions. He even considered, with considerable dread, the highly remote possibility that this was one of the exceedingly rare occasions when she didn't report to her post at all.
Where could she be? Hmph... no concern of his, truly. He had much more pressing matters to tend - peace to keep among the mages, intricacies of force magic to study, and an increasingly desolate office door to glance at regularly with growing concern. He hadn't been alerted of any newly detected apostates or mass uprisings within the circle, much less anything that would take Meredith more than an hour to resolve. Could it be some sort of... private matter? She'd always struck him as a woman who kept her work completely separate from her personal life by simply neglecting to have one, but perhaps she'd met some nice nobleman who'd proved himself worthy of her affections; perhaps every templar in Kirkwall was presently attending the wedding, the bridesmaids and knight-commander herself dressed in their finest templar regalia and perhaps they'd settle down, start a family, have a set of twins who'd grow to be cute as a button, and his invitation had somehow been lost and he'd missed the entire occasion alone knee-deep in the dismal evening light and an unwieldy text on the proper use of staves.
Oh, ridiculous. Even were it to come true, he wouldn't care. He wouldn't. Meredith was a colleague, a coworker, and he just happened to feel an urgent need to shake these thoughts from his head and dispel them immediately for no reason in particular.
No accounting for how his heart had pounded at the looming feeling of having missed his chance (no, he never had one, didn't want one), at the thought that he was too late (nonsense), that'd he'd allowed her to wither away from him over the years until he'd lost his grip altogether.
No accounting for the immense relief he felt when all of those worries turned out to be for naught.
Outside the door upon which his pacified gaze of longing lingered, Meredith stood entirely unaware of it. It wasn't often that she gave pause, but she'd decided to make an exception, just this once. Inside her office, only the continued, uphill, ultimately doomed battle she thought against the magical threat awaited her; at this makeshift crossroads, there were unanswered questions, a delicate balance she dared not yet upset, and an invitation to tea that she didn't doubt still stood.
Her sigh and slight smirk were both mellow as she pushed open the door to the unending battle. She'd file today under almost.