The Quest for Dawn

Chapter 14: The House of Ancunín

In the days that followed, Tavriel and Astarion navigated the tangled bureaucracy of Baldur's Gate. Astarion's name, his lineage, held sway, his presence alone a statement of resilience that moved clerks and courtiers to swift action. Documents were unearthed, seals were broken and made anew, and the faded legacy of House Ancunín began to stir from its long slumber. It was during this time that he had heard a name spoken for the first time in over two centuries–the name of his father, Joreth.

At the mention of the name, Astarion instantly thought of the face he had seen in the temporal chaos of Gale's ritual. A high elven man, distinguished, hard, distant–in a constant state of mourning, Astarion realized. There were too many emotions within him at that moment, as he remembered that he once had a mother, and a father who had never recovered from his loss of her. Joreth Ancunín had set sail for Evermeet over two centuries ago, before the Spellplague had consumed the island, and was never heard from again.

Before the signing, while they were alone in the quiet of an office, Tav could feel the tension radiating off Astarion. His posture spoke of the grand rooms he had walked centuries ago, but his grip on the staff betrayed the unseen burden he carried. Tavriel, sensing the weight of the moment, sought to provide a bridge from his past to his present.

"Astarion," murmured Tav, "you look nervous. What's on your mind?"

Astarion let out a laugh, the sound edged with nerves. "I'm wondering if reclaiming the Ancunín name means I'll also inherit a horde of dusty portraits and a lifetime supply of cobwebs," he quipped, his tone light but his words tinged with genuine concern.

"Oh, come on," Tav nudged him again, her tone teasing to match his levity. "Think of the gardens, the balls... and all the delightful ways you could scandalize high society."

Astarion's sightless eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement. "Scandalize? My dear Tav, I intend to redefine high society. But... do I dare tether myself to a legacy that's as much a mausoleum as it is a manor?"

Tav's smile softened. "Only if you're planning to throw the most extravagant haunted house parties," she said, "But you have a chance to make it whatever you want."

He sighed, a smirk on his face. "You're right. I suppose the idea of hosting a soirée where the most terrifying thing is not my thirst but my guests' dancing is... oddly appealing."

"That's the spirit—pun intended," she laughed lightly. "And whatever you decide, I'm with you. Even if it means I have to learn to waltz without stepping on your toes."

Astarion's laughter, rare and genuine, filled the space between them. "I'll hold you to that, darling. Now, let's discover what kind of future awaits us."

With the air lighter, the clerk materialized with parchment and ink—a sheaf of papers that required Astarion's signature. Each page was a tangible step towards a legacy long denied, now on the cusp of being reclaimed.

Tavriel's gentle touch guided Astarion's hand over the parchment. Though deprived of sight, his fingers instinctively moved, tracing the familiar lines of writing, now altered by necessity and trust. With her guidance, he signed his name, no longer just a whisper in the Manorborn's tales, but a mark of his enduring presence.

With each stroke of the quill, the chains of his past crumbled. Liberated, not just in name but in essence, he emerged like the dawn breaking after a long, starless night. While his blindness required Tavriel's aid, a silent gratitude blossomed within him. He could not deny his reliance on her. Her presence had become as vital as the blood he consumed – she was his sustenance in more ways than one.

With the final flourish of his signature, Astarion leaned back, his staff releasing to fall against his shoulder in relief. Tavriel watched him, her heart swelling with pride and protective affection. She understood the depth of his decision, the internal struggles he had endured to reach this point. With those few strokes of ink, the blind vampire had taken a courageous step towards reclaiming his place in a world that had both feared and marginalized him.