Edward approached the elderly elf who was now standing up to greet him with a calm, knowing smile. The flicker of the candlelight, which hung next to the entrance to his hut, made Thyrion's silver hair shimmer faintly. The lines of his age were soft yet deep, like a tree that had weathered far too many winters.
Edward lingered for a moment, his expression uncertain. Why had he come here again? He didn't entirely know—only that the questions had clawed at his mind since their last meeting.
He exhaled slowly, then finally spoke up.
"You didn't mention being the father of the Elven King," Edward said.
Thyrion's lips curled into a faint grin. He waved a hand in a casual, almost dismissive motion.
"Ahh… just luck of being born into the royal family," he said lightly. "Come in, young man. I'm sure you have more interesting questions than the family I was born into." Thyrion said before turning and disappearing into his hut, his steps slow but deliberate.
