A/N: Yes, I'm still distracted. Rated-M for safety. I blame you, blackrising! Reading of 'Red Hood' required; 'Freelance Mage' optional.
Edit: For a more tortured Meredith. Oh, Meredith why did you have to be nuts? ;_;
Disclaimer: EA and Bioware owns the characters in this story. The derivative and very unlikely story is, however, mine. =D
Knight-Commander Meredith put away the last of the day's reports on her desk. More and more civilian matters were being brought to her attention, piling to her primary concern of reigning in mages. What an incompetent lout, that Dumar, she thought. She rubbed the bridge of her nose and her eyes with bare fingers, easing a bit of fatigue brought on by the paper work.
The woman looked at her right hand, free from its usual heavy armor. Meredith took off the gauntlet from her other hand and began examining it as well. She never took much notice of how long and feminine her fingers actually were; she did not care much for vanity, after all. Still, she thought, even the calluses from swordplay did not diminish their elegance. The templar felt the hard skin on both hands, then shivered with a memory.
Smooth, milky skin, glowing with the light sheen of sweat trembled beneath her callused hand. She looked up from beneath and found luminous blue eyes watching her, clouded with pleasure.
"Your tea, Knight-Commander," Elsa offered, her monotone voice interrupting Meredith's thoughts. She merely waved her hand in acknowledgment as the Tranquil set the porcelain on her desk. Busy hands immediately moved on the stack of papers. "May I settle these in the archives?"
With another wave from Meredith's hand, Elsa sorted the bundle into her arms. Another wave interrupted the younger woman from her work.
"Except the collated pile at the bottom, Elsa, I'm not done with that. And remind Orsino of tomorrow's assembly, I don't want him dragging his heels again."
"Yes, Knight-Commander." Elsa left the particular pile on the desk. "Good day," she ended in her usual deadpan manner and was soon out of the study.
Left alone, Meredith's pale eyes fixated on the lonely papers left on her desk. She just stared at it for a while, absently sipping on her tea until she noticed that her beverage had already gone cold. Meredith set the delicate teacup aside and began flipping through the weathered report. Already familiar words greeted her.
As per your order, conducted an investigation of the Reinhardts' Fereldan relations. Interviews and documents yield that they are not related to any Olivia Reinhardt, living or otherwise. Additionally, genealogy reports from Chantry records indicate that the family has no magic in their line.
I have attached relevant documents for your perusal.
She flipped the report closed and set it aside on the corner of her table, where it had been since it was submitted to her several weeks past. She already knew as much; Meredith had met every member of the family in Kirkwall and could not imagine how anyone as attractive as 'Olivia' could be related to the mundane-looking Reinhardts. Why she believed it that night she couldn't tell.
...or rather, she could, but would rather not think about it.
The elegant neck met with an exposed, graceful shoulder, tinted heavily with a red blush. It felt immaculate against her lips, soon, against her tongue and teeth. She sucked against it, breathing hard for dear life as the other's fingers plunged deep within her.
"Feisty," she heard Olivia whisper, as she tasted iron in her own mouth.
"Maker," Meredith hissed, feeling that annoying warmth building up again. She stood up from her desk then pulled down the hood from her head, the blonde lockes spilled on her angular armor. Meredith threw the windows open and welcomed the cool spring breeze which alleviated a bit of her suffering.
Meredith stared at the Gallows's inner courtyard, watching the recruits file indoors. It was near afternoon and she determined it was time for their Chantry lessons. The grounds soon emptied itself and even then her gaze lingered so, her light curls bounced with the breeze. Her attractive features were once again filled with a frown. She wasn't a wistful young maiden to be swept up in a single night's tryst. She's Kirkwall's flaming Knight-Commander, for crying out loud; her pride and duty won't allow it so. Olivia, or whoever in the endless Void she really is, was gone. Good riddance, she thought.
"Well, that was," Olivia mused, dabbing the blood from her shoulder with a torn sheet from her gown, "Exhilarating."
"Too late for complaints," Meredith murmured, then feeling cold in her thin undershirt now that the sensations have subsided. Her knees slightly buckled as she stood up from the carpet. "You got what you wanted."
"Not complaining." Olivia strode to her and offered a hand, which she took. The contact instantly made Meredith warm again, warmer still when soft fingers traced the calluses on her right hand. "I've never with a warrior," the younger woman whispered while nibbling on the templar's earlobe. Her fingers then hovered to Meredith's middle and index fingers. "You need more of these, on the tips if you please."
Meredith barely contained a whimper as she weakly pushed Olivia. "Never again, Reinhardt." She turned away as she slipped on her smallclothes.
"How cruel!" came the sweet playful voice behind Meredith's ear. She felt a hand squeeze her buttocks then soft lips on her cheek. Soon it was on her lips as Olivia appeared before her. "I'll try to see you next time I'm in town," the younger girl whispered, even as her mouth was still settled on Meredith's.
Against her better judgment, Meredith found herself returning the kiss. It took several Chantry verses recited in her head to reign in her renewed lust. "Don't," she snapped, then turned her back again to look for the red shift-underclothing of her templar issue.
"Suit yourself," Olivia's voice came from behind her, quite nonchalant. The Knight-Commander felt slightly annoyed, but kept her mind on dressing. "It's been a lovely night, Meredith. Thank you." She heard the door open, then close again with a soft click.
With that, Olivia was gone. Meredith finally found her red shift, and saw that the red hood had been cut from the garment. She frowned.
"Hmph. Typical." she muttered, and continued her robing in silence.
Meredith felt a tingle of loneliness but soon banished it from her thoughts. Her fingers smoothed out the lines in the corners of her eyes, closing them as she did so. Olivia's not who she said she was and Meredith won't press the matter further than she already had. "Good riddance," she sighed.
A phrase which she seemed to be saying a lot those days.
"Knight-Commander?" someone called from outside her door, followed with soft knocks.
Meredith tilted her head back, her eyebrows once again formed a line between them. "Recruits," she immediately decided. She had made it protocol to knock, then announce oneself to the Knight-Commander before being allowed entry into her study. She would give a lecture on any other day, but she was tired, and the presence was a welcome distraction. She pulled her hood back up to her head but lingered by the window. "Enter, Recruit,"she finally replied.
The door swung open and the visitor seemed to finally remember his manners. "Templar-recruit Carver, Knight-Commander. I bring a message from the smithy."
"Leave it on the desk," she said simply, still looking to the Gallows's courtyard. Meredith grew annoyed with the nervous shuffling metal from behind her. She'll give that lecture after all.
"Recruit," with her stern tone she turned around to face her subordinate, only to stop mid-sentence as her eyes landed on the young man's face.
Faint, very faint in fact, the chinny man before her bore similar eyes to that damn seductress. Meredith's eyes narrowed as she looked at Carver's face, the fine lines around them became pronounced as she did so.
"Knight-Commander?" came Carver's nervous question, grounding her back from her thoughts. "Is there anything else you need?"
"Yes," Meredith's voice came out too forceful, visibly stunning the man. She stroked the bridge of her nose, trying to take the tension away. She begun again tentatively, "Yes. Are you related to..."
Her eyes focused on the recruit again for a moment. She shook her head. Once again, the attractiveness is far too removed to be related to the man before her. And she just told herself she won't press the matter anymore.
"No, nevermind." Meredith waved her hand with finality. "Dismissed, Ser Carver."