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Gwendis hit him. It was the only thing she could think of doing, if she was even thinking at all.
For a moment, she regretted it, wondering if he was at all weakened from everything that had happened—whatever that "everything" was.
But Verandis, changed as he was, seemed able to take it. It had only just been an open-handed blow to the chest, and not her most fearsome.
So she hit him again.
"You promised!" Gwendis' voice was practically a shriek. She'd never been more broken-hearted in her life. The pain this man, her father, had put her through in the past days… "You promised, you promised, you promised!!!" She accentuated each word with another blow, and Verandis didn't try to stop her.
Instead, he did something she so desperately needed, but was always too afraid to ask for:
He embraced her.
And Gwendis—already broken into shards of fragile glass—crumbled against him, that cutting glass turning to dust. She sobbed against his shoulder, hands pressed to his chest, letting him hold her. She was young for an elf and a vampire, so maybe it wasn't saying much, but she'd never felt such a sheer amount of emotion all at once before. Not once.
"I know I did."
Verandis' voice was soft, but she still heard it over her sobs. His embrace was warm, much warmer than any vampire had a right to be, especially with the way he looked: skin the shade of death, hair white like he'd aged a millennium, and eyes so faded that any color was just a memory. It was like she was being held by her father's corpse, and yet she'd never felt him more alive.
Gwendis had so many questions, but they were tumbling around in her head so fast that she couldn't pick one to start with. Instead, she let her father hold her as she cried.
Her voice, usually loud and confident, was so small when she finally spoke: "Please say this isn't a trick. Please say this is real."
Verandis stroked her hair, pulled her closer, and kissed the top of her head. He was so warm, like the comfort she had felt so long ago from sunlight after a cold rain.
"This is no trick," Verandis told her, rocking her very gently in a way only he knew soothed her. "I pro—"
"Don't you dare promise me anything." Gwendis pulled away enough to look at him, but she never wanted to leave his hold. "Never again, you self-sacrificial bastard."
Even through vision misted with tears, Gwendis saw Verandis smile. That smile held centuries, held pain and joy, anguish and love. It was like a smile from a god, a smile that showed things she would never comprehend.
"All right," Verandis said. "Then I won't."
Satisfied with that answer, Gwendis laid her head against his chest, and let herself be comforted by a warmth and light she thought she'd never feel again.