Summary:

Valyndor breaks his promise to consider their relationship after investigating Astarion's past, revealing he never intended to approve regardless of what was discovered. After a heated argument where Talin confronts both men for talking about her as if she weren't present, difficult decisions follow. At the end Talin decides to have a heart-to-heart conversation with her father.

"Noble blood or not, this changes nothing." Valyndor's sharp voice echoed through his study, his fine robes rustling with each dismissive gesture.

"Then why did you agree to this in the first place?" Astarion asked, his tone edged with frustration.

"Did I? I never truly agreed to this. I asked Talin to investigate your past, saying I would consider it afterward. Now I have considered it and the answer is no."

"Then what was the point if your answer was always going to be no?" Astarion questioned, his voice rising with indignation as he confronted Valyndor directly.

Valyndor sighed. "If you knew Talin as you claim you do, boy, you'd know that she has a tendency to develop strong infatuations with things. Quite usually, those fleeting interests fade quickly. Knowing my daughter, I'd expected her to eventually get bored and move on as she always does. I held little hope that you would make it this far, yet you did."

"Well, it seems you don't know her that well either — your own daughter. So you decided to lie to her? So you could remain the good, caring father?" Astarion snapped back angrily and his ridiculing tone seem to have no visible effect on Valyndor.

"I did what was necessary to protect my child from unnecessary harm. Like any father would do." Valyndor's voice came again, steady but sharper and more determined than before.

"Not every father would manipulate his daughter. You tricked her into believing you'd actually consider it." Astarion snapped again, clearly disagreeing with Valyndor's actions. He realized it all sounded a little ironic, considering how he had acted in the past, using charm and deception as tools. But that was the past, and he tried really hard to keep it that way. The hypocrisy of his own outrage wasn't lost on him, but he never imagined that this man would resort to such things against his own daughter.

Valyndor's eyes narrowed. "And how would you know that? Do you expect me to believe that you approached my daughter with pure intentions, vampire? You're still what you are — a bloodthirsty creature. Did you think your noble descent would somehow make me overlook that?"

"I am more than the monster you try to paint me as. This revelation only proves that I was—"

"It proves that you were once an elf," Valyndor cut in sharply. "An honorable one, perhaps. But why you chose to abandon that path remains a mystery to me — though it's not my place to question it. Now it carries little weight against your current vampiric nature, and no father in his right mind would willingly give his daughter to a vampire."

A dark look crossed Astarion's face. "Give?" he chuckled mockingly, his fingers absently toying with the ring on his finger. "Well, she's not yours to give or withhold, Valyndor. She's mine—" He caught himself immediately, his own words seeming to surprise even him and visibly infuriating Valyndor, as witnessed by the deep frown on his face. He paused for a split second to collect his thoughts, then continued, "What I'm saying is, Talin is capable of making her own choices, what she wants to do and who she wants to be with. You don't have to decide for her."

"You have no right to tell me what I can or can't do." Valyndor rumbled.

All this time, Talin watched the heated discussion silently, her initial shock at her father's response gradually transforming into a slow-burning anger. Her features twisted into a grimace at the way both men continued to argue, neither bothering to even acknowledge her presence. Their voices started fading slowly as her own thoughts raced through her head, becoming louder and louder. Suddenly it all became crystal clear to her how they both viewed her. Her father, seeing her as an eternal child to be protected and guided, still making choices on her behalf. And Astarion, who had once seen her as nothing more than a naive mark to be manipulated, now advocating against such manipulations, while completely ignoring her presence in the room during this very discussion. The realization made her blood boil, her cheeks flushing with anger.

"Enough!" Her voice cut through the tension firmly as she slammed her fists onto the desk, silencing both men momentarily. They both turned toward her, a little surprised, as if she wasn't supposed to be here.

"Stop talking about me as if I'm not here." Her gaze flicked between the two men, but then she turned to her father. "Father, I am utterly disappointed in you." She sounded more sad than angry. Or perhaps it was both, but her voice was a bit gentler now and her face seemed to soften for a moment. "Is that how you see me? I know I have much ahead of me, much to learn, but this?" She shook her head, then turned to Astarion, her face hardening again. "And you... have you forgotten how we started? You, who thought that I was some stupid, gullible girl, are now arguing how wrong that is, while I'm standing right here."

Her words were only met with silence that felt heavier than stone, suffocating. Neither man knew what to say next. Only Talin's bitter laugh cut through the silence again. "You both claim to care for me, yet neither of you trusts me enough to make my own choices. You," she pointed at her father, "decided I wasn't old or mature enough to choose my own path. And you," her eyes met Astarion's, "saw me as nothing more than a means of survival at first. So tell me, when did either of you start seeing me as someone capable? Or was that never the case?"

"Talin," Astarion stepped toward her, trying to defuse her anger and frustration, ready to defend himself against her accusations. What began as survival became something else entirely. Something he hadn't planned for. But she cut him off, waving her hands dismissively.

"You know what? I don't want to hear it. I don't care anymore. I simply cannot deal with this right now. I need to clear my head." She stormed off from the study, not bothering to even close the door behind her.

Astarion pressed his lips together and took a deep breath. Then he looked at the man standing behind the desk as he turned. "This isn't over, Valyndor."

Valyndor met his gaze firmly, chin held high. "It is best if you leave. There is nothing more you can do," he replied calmly.

"We'll see," Astarion said before leaving Valyndor's study.

He immediately followed Talin to her room. When he entered, she was already standing beside the window, looking down at the lush greenery in the garden.

"This isn't working, is it?" she said softly, without turning around to face him.

"Not as we'd hoped, no."

She let out a deep breath, then turned toward him. "I don't know what else to do, Astarion. I don't know what I was thinking. Even if you weren't a vampire, he would never have agreed unless you were nobility. I don't wish to go against him. I can't be the one to ruin generations of carefully crafted family reputation. Not like this."

She moved slowly toward him, staggering with each step. "I can't believe I'm saying this," she continued. "But it was so much simpler when we were out there adventuring, facing all those dangers and sleeping in the dirt." She sighed and chuckled a bit. "All I wanted was some fun, and look at us now."

"So what happens now?" he asked, his voice holding little confidence as his eyes searched hers for any sign of hope.

It seemed pointless to argue anymore, to plead, to beg, or to prove a point. It was clear what needed to be done and someone had to do it.

"You should head back to Silverymoon. Reconnect with your family and get in touch with your past. Whether you accept it or not, that would be entirely up to you."

"What?" He asked, brows raising in disbelief. "You mean leave you here? After everything." The pain in his voice was unmistakable.

"For now," she whispered, moving in closer, but she dared not meet his gaze, because she knew that it would only take one look at those eyes right now for her resolve to crumble completely. "Until we figure this out. Perhaps it would give Father some time to think." Her chest felt tight and heavy, making it difficult to breathe, but she tried really hard to remain calm and steady.

"But," Astarion hesitated. "When will I see you again?"

She looked at him cautiously, then gestured for him to wait while she rushed toward her bedside table. She reached to the back of the drawer and pulled out what appeared to be a small, beautifully carved wooden box. It looked like a jewelry box but was too small to hold her typical accessories. Inside was a small velvet pouch, which she took and carefully untied, pouring two small crystals into her palm, each with matching rune carvings. They were no bigger than a gold piece and had the same purple color.

"We can still communicate with these." She opened her palm in front of him, showing him the stones.

"Pebbles?" Astarion arched an eyebrow, looking at the curious little things that kind of looked like gems.

Talin chuckled. "Yes, pebbles. I'll throw them really hard and hope that one will reach you and hit you in the head, so you'll know it's me," she teased with a slightly mocking tone. Then her expression turned serious again, if not a little grim. "They're sending stones. They'll allow us to send short messages to each other, even when there is a great distance between us."

She took his hand, placed one of the stones in his palm, and gently closed his fingers around it, holding his hand firmly. Immediately she looked up to meet his gaze. "We don't have much choice at the moment. At least this way you'll still be able to hear my voice, and I yours."

"Well, at least the thought of being able to hear your voice offers some comfort." He squeezed the stone tightly in his hand before putting it in his pocket.

Talin's eyes teared up and she lowered her head. She no longer knew what else to say nor was able to form any words past the tightness in her throat.

Astarion lifted her chin with his finger and a single tear escaped, rolling down her cheek despite her efforts to hold it back. His voice softened even more when he looked at her face, brushing away the tear. "I'll come back for you, I promise."

"I know." She nodded and managed to smile for him one last time.

He leaned forward, one hand still holding her chin while the other moved to the small of her back to pull her closer for a kiss—soft at first, then deepening with each passing moment.

When they pulled apart, foreheads still touching, his hand lingered on her cheek, as if trying to memorize the feeling of her skin against his.

"Until next time," he whispered against her lips. It took all the strength he had to tear himself away from her and walk away. When he finally turned to leave his entire being was screaming to turn back, to take her away. But he kept walking, because loving her meant knowing when to let go.

And so she watched him disappear through the doorway, her heart breaking with each of his fading footsteps. This time, she couldn't follow. No more adventures, no dangers to face together, no comforting presence beside her in the night. The finality of his departure crashed over her like a wave, leaving her alone with nothing but the echo of his promise and the cold weight of the sending stone clutched in her hand. One might expect that all she could do now was collapse into uncontrollable sobs, but she didn't. A few tears found their way to the floor, falling silently, before she wiped them away. Several more rolled down her cheeks as she swallowed the lump in her throat, but she quickly wiped those too and sat at the edge of her bed to contemplate.

She had been sitting like that for a while, just staring at the sending stone in her hand. Such a small thing, yet the weight of it felt heavier than it should, much like the choices she had to make that day. A gentle knock at her door broke through her thoughts.

"Lin? May I come in?" Thalion's voice was soft but clear. Visibly concerned, he awaited her response patiently behind the door.

A little startled, she didn't respond immediately and hurriedly put the sending stone back in the little drawer beside her bed before letting her brother into her room. He approached gracefully and sat beside her. Only then did she turn to him and smile. His presence was always most welcome and comforting. Thalion had this gentle way of reminding Talin who she was and how strong she was, without forcing the point. And that was one of the many reasons why she loved him so much. He knew perfectly well that family, duty, and responsibility were not the things Talin cared to hear about right now, especially as heartbroken as she was.

But he also knew something that most people didn't. He knew that Valyndor had a special place in his heart for Talin and his love for his daughter ran deeper than the Underdark. His soft, easy smile mirrored hers, yet he could see that behind it was pain that stung him as if it were his own. Even though he happened to agree with their dear old father, the all-wise Valyndor, and as a paladin he had the right to, he was shamefully relieved that the vampire was gone.

"I heard what happened," he said finally. "I'm sorry."

"Why? Aren't you at ease now?"

"Talin…"

"I don't blame you, Thalion. Hells, even I didn't want to have anything to do with him when I met him. But," she sighed deeply. "Things have changed. Now it's hard to imagine my life without him."

"You're special to Father, you know that right?"

"I'm no more special than you, Thalion."

Thalion disagreed silently. "I know you're angry at him, but he loves you very much. He has always tried to protect you. So have I. Sometimes too much, I must admit."

"I know, Thal. I'm not angry, I'm disappointed. I just wish he hadn't made me believe I had a choice."

"Do you remember when we were children, when your magic manifested for the first time?" Thalion asked softly. "You were so scared."

"Scared doesn't begin to describe it. I was terrified," Talin admitted, fidgeting with her bracelet. "I had no idea what happened. I thought I'd hurt you and that Father would be angry and would punish me."

"But he wasn't," Thalion reminded her gently. "Because you were his legacy, Talin. And you still are."

Talin rolled her eyes and sighed. "Thalion, don't speak like that as if you're not his child too. We're both his legacy. He cares for both of us equally."

"No, no, of course," he backtracked quickly, shaking his head. "That's not what I meant. What I'm trying to say is that you inherited his magical abilities. And that made father very happy."

Talin smiled and her gaze turned distant with memories. "I remember how hard it was to control that power. It was rigorous training for years. All the other children were so scared of me, they'd avoid me. Sometimes it felt truly hopeless."

"But you never gave up," Thalion pointed out firmly. "And you know who else never did? Father. He was with you every step of the way. I never once saw him lose faith in you. He hired every possible mentor from Faerûn to help you control it. But you know that he was the best mentor you ever had."

"Of course." She smiled. "Thank you, Thalion. I don't know what I'd do without you." She gave his hand a tight squeeze, taking comfort in having her big brother next to her and remembering all those childhood memories together.

"Can I ask you to do something for me?"

"Anything. Just name it," Thalion replied without hesitation.

"Could you read to me please? You know, like when we were little and I was scared and couldn't sleep?"

Thalion laughed softly. "It's been ages since I've done that, but sure, I'd love to."

He remembered when Talin's abilities surfaced, she started having these strange dreams that scared her. She could not grasp it or understand their meaning at the time so she would wake up in the middle of the night, too frightened to return to sleep. You'd expect a child to jump into her parents' bed to seek comfort, but instead, she went straight to Thalion's room. Not knowing how else to calm her, he would offer to read her favorite stories—and that seemed to do the trick.

Talin reached for her bookshelf and pulled out her favorite leather-bound volume. Her brother adjusted himself to make room for her on the bed and she then snuggled beside him, just as she had done when they were children, only now Thalion had grown much taller and stronger. Even so, for a moment she felt like a child again, transported back to simpler times as he opened the book to a well-worn page marked by a faded ribbon, and began to read. His voice carried a warm, honeyed timbre that seemed to have a soothing effect on anyone he spoke to. It was neither too deep nor too high—settling in that perfect medium-low register that resonated with a gentle strength. There was a reassuring steadiness to his tone, reflective of their father's authority but softened by genuine compassion and brotherly affection—exactly the balm Talin's wounded spirit needed now.

She woke up alone in her bed, all tucked in her favorite blanket, the book neatly placed back on the bookshelf. She noticed that it was dark outside and wondered how long she had slept. That night, everything seemed quieter than usual—or perhaps it was just because she felt so empty inside. She knew she had to confront her father, but she gave herself a few minutes to stabilize before she rose from the bed. She fixed her hair quickly, and left her room.

When she reached for the doorknob to her father's study, she hesitated for a moment but then proceeded to knock and enter immediately.

"May I come in?" Talin's gentle voice broke through the silence in Valyndor's study.

He turned from the window where he had been gazing for some time and saw his daughter standing in the doorway. He nodded and gestured for her to sit as if he had been expecting her. "Talin, before you begin—"

"I'm not here to argue, Father." She cut him off before he could start repeating himself about how he only wants to protect her. Gods, if she had to hear that one more time, she'd tear her own ears off, she thought.

He looked at her with narrowed eyes, surprised by her willingness for a calmer approach. He didn't say anything, allowing her space to continue.

"I get it. Being with him is dangerous, breaks social norms, and it could shatter centuries of carefully built alliances and reputation. I won't be the one responsible for that." She looked up at her father, and he immediately caught the evident hurt in her eyes. "But what I fail to understand is why you made a false promise."

"You're right, Talin," Valyndor admitted. "I should never have led you on to believe that I would agree to that arrangement. And for what it's worth," he added, pausing to meet her gaze, "I am truly sorry, my dear, for prolonging the inevitable and causing you this pain."

"I don't know what hurts more, that I failed as a daughter or that I had to give up on the man I love," she said, her voice starting to crack a little under the weight of her father's genuine remorse and everything that has happened.

"It is I who failed you. And I know it hurts, but you must understand why I cannot accept this, my child. It could ruin us—everything we've built for generations. And your brother... he could be expelled from the Order. He could lose everything." Valyndor's expression was sincere and worried, his voice carrying a note of regret. He understood her pain deeply, knew exactly how she felt at this moment, for long ago, he was just like her.

Talin's eyes filled with tears. "I know… I knew that. But… it's hard. And it hurts so much." She choked back a sob and looked down, gathering her strength to continue speaking. Valyndor gently lifted her chin so she could meet his sympathetic gaze. She took a deep breath before she continued. "I could never bear destroying Thalion's life like that. Everything he's worked for, everything he believes in. No matter how much this hurts me."

"Part of growing up means accepting we can't have everything we want. We must learn to make the hard sacrifices no one else would." As he spoke his face softened even further. It was an expression only Talin ever saw, revealing the depth of his love for his daughter. "Do you not think I wanted the same freedom you now crave? The freedom to unleash my potential, to live as I pleased?"

Talin sniffled and studied her father's weathered face for a moment. If all those wrinkles could tell a tale about his past life what would they say—who had he truly been in those distant days before becoming her father?

"Then why didn't you? Why did you give up on your dreams?" she asked, but deep down she already knew, as if she understood the burden her father had to carry before he even spoke.

"I was an only child, and no older than you when your grandparents died. I found myself alone, forced to take over. I knew our family name rested solely on my shoulders." Valyndor explained and paused to take his daughter's hands in his. "I've seen how much you've grown, Talin. You're capable of great things—you don't have to prove it to me. But you will always be my child, and I will always do everything in my power to keep you safe."

He stood up, moving back to the window and paused there. His reflection ghosted over the glass as he gazed into the darkness outside. "You know, our people, we feel things differently than the other races. The bonds we form are uniquely deep and profound. And when we find our soulmate, we know it in our very being. It's like a calling. But I'm not sure you're there yet, Talin. And even if you have—is it possible? Does he even possess a soul anymore? He may have once been an elf like us, but that part of him is gone."

Talin had no response. Whether it was simply because she was tired of constantly defending their bond, or because her father's words had struck a chord of truth, she couldn't tell.

And in that moment, despite her disappointment she simply saw her father—a man who had sacrificed his own dreams for his family. She crossed the room and stood silently beside him.

Valyndor opened his arm invitingly, and Talin stepped in, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his chest. His hand tightened on her shoulder, drawing her closer.

"I still don't agree with what you did," she whispered, "but I understand why you did it."

"That is all I can ask for."

They stood together in silence, father and daughter, watching the night sky through the window. Neither spoke of what might come tomorrow. For now, this fragile peace was enough.