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Their relationship progressed slowly. Orsino, a traditionalist at heart, left sprigs of Andraste's Grace between leaves of vellum on her desk, sent her meet-me-at-twilight notes through Elsa, watered her plants and brought her supper whenever she got too busy to visit the kitchens. She responded with shrewd suspicion at first, but Orsino, ever stubborn, kept it up.
He used his expressive face to his advantage, letting his eyes soften when he looked at her, a hint of a smile touching his lips. And sometimes she would catch it, narrowing her eyes as she met his gaze, but no matter how much he wanted to, he wouldn't drop his eyes.
Once during one of their secret meetings, she let him brush a strand of hair away from her face. He considered that progress.
In the drugging heat of summer Meredith let him into her bed, and there could be no denying after that. He learnt to recognise the particular flare of fire in her eyes that didn't mean anger or warning, but meant, Tonight, and I don't care where. She was often touchy, and slow to respond, but Orsino learnt how to ignite her, and sometimes it meant dropping to his knees -- metaphorically or literally -- and Orsino also learnt that perhaps that's exactly where he wanted to be.
But no matter how good it was, she'd send him away afterward, turning her back to him as she rolled over to sleep. And no matter how charming he behaved, she never let her gaze soften towards him in return. And for every time he bent the knee to her -- because he needed to and because it pleased her -- she planted her boot in his back and pushed him lower.
He brought her Andraste's Grace, but she brought him spindleweed, and the thorns dug in deep.
"You know, Meredith, all this time and you still haven't seen where I sleep," Orsino commented offhandedly one evening, both of them perched on the garden seat at a respectable distance from each other, Meredith's hands folded tightly in her lap and Orsino's drooping uselessly in his own. "It's plain, but tell me what you want and I'll get it -- candles, flowers... oh, and there's this thing you can do with embrium petals--"
"That-- No, Orsino." Meredith shifted uncomfortably, her lips twitching in a frown. "You do enough. Let's not..."
"Complicate things?" Orsino's voice was quiet, silky-smooth, and though Meredith should have recognised the tone, she didn't pay nearly as much attention to him as he did to her.
"Yes. Complicate things."
"Oh, of course. Maker forbid I'd ever want to treat you like my lover, as opposed to somebody I fuck when the mood strikes."
"Orsino--!" But he'd shot to his feet, hands curling into frustrated fists, his heart hammering in his throat. Meredith stood as well, tried to snatch at the sleeve of his robe, and he wheeled on her with such a look that she stepped back, disturbed, uncertain.
"You think I do enough, do you? As a matter of fact, I agree! I take your orders at work and at play. I go out of my way to try to make you smile, to try to make life a little more bearable, because I know we both suffer, but I suffer more when you do. I-- I give you the best parts of me and get nothing in return!"
Accustomed to mild-mannered Orsino, gracious Orsino, longsuffering Orsino, Meredith could only stand and blink, the ever-tight muscles in her face going slack.
"It is no sin to love, Meredith. And I love you. I will not let you make me feel like I should be hanged for it!"
They were both flushed by then, Orsino's jaw clenched and eyes a little too bright, Meredith's brow drawn down over her eyes and a fine tremble in her chin. She bore his accusing gaze for a little longer, and then spun on her heel and left him. The softly falling night veiled his tears, but there was no one there to see, anyway.
Orsino was listless and distracted the next day, performing his duties perfunctorily, grateful that there were no Harrowings scheduled because he couldn't bear the added stress.
He didn't see Meredith all day, and whether he was avoiding her, she was avoiding him, or they were avoiding each other was never quite clear.
But at the end of the day, there was a small embrium bouquet directly in the center of his desk, and the folded note underneath it read, "You said something about embrium petals..."