Title: Revelations
Fandom: Dragon Age
Rating: G
Length: 750 words
Content notes: No content warnings apply.
Author notes: Written for the ‘bold’ challenge in fan_flashworks.
Summary: Hawke confronts Meredith about the Viscountcy. Meredith reveals her hand.

***

Meredith was sitting at her desk when Sara arrived. Divested of the ornate armour of her office, she sat in a simple Templar robe, framed by the large window that overlooked the Gallows’ internal courtyard. The light caught the heavy silvering among her golden strands.

Laid out on the desk in front of her was an array of documents, and she was scrutinising one through a pair of gold-rimmed pince-nez, made in the Orlesian style. When she looked up and saw Sara enter the room, she slipped them off her nose and into a drawer of her desk.

“Champion,” she greeted her. She made a show of looking behind Sara, and then looking surprised. “No entourage today?”

Sara felt her nostrils flair as she took in a quick breath to tamp down on a flash of anger.

Meredith stood, her hands clasped behind her back as though she were on the parade field. She turned her back on Hawke to look out the window. Down below, Sara could see Templars training; sword forms that her brother had once practiced.

“Bold of you to come by yourself,” Meredith said, her tone unreadable.

“I wanted to speak to you alone.”

“What about?” Meredith turned to look at Sara, and Sara could find no falsity in her face or the blandness of her voice.

“The Viscountcy,” Sara said, annoyance rising once more. “What else?”

“You ask me that, when your sister is here?” Meredith sat back down in her seat and picked up a document as if to read it. “Many nobles have come to me before expecting special treatment for their family members. But perhaps you are not cut from the same cloth.” She looked up at Sara and seemed to scrutinise her more closely.

“The Viscountcy,” Sara said again. “I understand that you are stopping the election from proceeding.”

Meredith picked up her pen and made a show of contemplating the document. “Kirkwall requires a fine balance of power between the Chantry and civil society,” she said, as if off-hand. “Fifteen years ago, that balance was lost. Once order was restored, the Council’s by-laws were re-written to require the Knight-Commander’s agreement to the election and the field of candidates.”

“And you won’t do it,” Sara said. “Why?”

“Being the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall’s Circle is a busy job, Champion. Demons never sleep, and blood mages hide in plain sight.” Meredith scrawled something at the bottom of one of the documents she held and placed it aside. She looked up the meet Sara’s eyes now. “I don’t have time to elect civil leaders who have no appreciation for the true battle we face in Kirkwall.”

“So you will block the election indefinitely? And rule de facto?”

“I believe Seneschal Bran is the interim Viscount,” Meredith said mildly, turning her gaze to the next document.

“He wouldn’t wipe his own ass without your approval,” Sara said.

“And who would you appoint as Viscount?” Meredith asked. “Perhaps Guillame de Launcet? Reginald Spincter? Maybe Magistrate Vanard?” She reached into her drawer and took out the pince-nez again. “Or perhaps, Champion –” Meredith stressed her title, “This visit is to convince me to appoint you to the role.”

Sara opened her mouth to protest this accusation, but Meredith cut her off with a wave of her pince-nez.

“You would be the obvious choice. Champion and scion of one of our most distinguished families, I cannot fault your skill or valour, nor the courage of your sister in turning herself in to the Circle. I would have looked to you as one of my greatest potential allies, were it not for your other… associates.” She perched the pince-nez on her nose, and looked at Sara through them. “You should know that I am aware of the mage they call Anders. My hand has only been stayed because he is a Grey Warden and outside of my jurisdiction. Should there be reason to suspect that he presents a demonic influence on a Kirkwall noble, there would be more than enough justification to intervene.”

Sara felt a stab of adrenaline rush down her veins.

“We are at war, Champion, even if most of the city doesn’t know it. And it is a tragedy that the only candidate who could have proven herself an able leader is in bed with the enemy.” Meredith’s eyes were hard behind the dwarven glass. “Now, if there is nothing else?” And she turned back to her documents as Sara left the room in a daze.