When a Minister Became a father

"Hello, father."

Out of nowhere, the air in the throne hall shifted when Chloe broke silence. A stiffness that had held everything stiff began to give way. It slipped, much like thread unwinding after being pulled too long.

Hours passed, the room thick with unspoken deals - cold columns observing without speaking as lords and soldiers studied each gesture behind guarded looks. Then came just two plain words, slicing clean across everything.

A moment ago still firm as stone beneath the crown's weight, Lord Ronan now seemed stripped down to a quieter truth.

A father.

A softness touched his features, the usual firm command around him slipping slightly. So uncommon was this shift that a few courtiers standing close looked at one another fast, half-convinced their eyes had played tricks.

Quietly came his words: "Hello, daughter." .

Faint traces of kindness slipped into how he spoke, unlike the cold manner he used in formal settings.

A hush fell between them when he moved near, his palm settling soft upon Chloe's shoulder. Not quite pulling away, those fingers stayed like they needed proof - proof she existed here, now, instead of tucked inside an old recollection.

"You look well," he said.

Her gaze lit up as Chloe tilted her head slightly, lips curving gently. A quiet warmth moved across her face like morning light through leaves.

"So do you."

A silence sat between them, just for a second. One didn't say anything, the other stayed quiet too.

This quiet didn't feel strange. Heavy it was - packed with words never spoken.

Quietly, Ronan took in her face, eyes moving slow across lines he knew well. Time felt heavy in his stare, weighing the memory of a child leaving the city against the figure now rooted there. The past clung close, even as the present held its ground.

Last words out loud: "Strength's yours now," slow but sure.

A hush settled into his words, carrying something steady, something earned.

A soft laugh slipped out as Chloe tucked a loose thread of hair behind her ear.

"That tends to happen when life becomes… interesting."

Might be," said Ronan, lifting one eyebrow just a little.

Her chin dipped sideways, a hint of mischief in her eyes. That might be one way to put it

A soft laugh slipped out, tired at its edges. Still, it broke the silence.

Ronan exhaled slowly.

"I heard many things," he admitted. "Rumors travel faster than soldiers these days. Battles, alliances, strange events… all tied somehow to your name." His eyes softened again. "But hearing stories is not the same as seeing you with my own eyes."

For a moment, his eyes moved to where Leon stood.

A figure in royal robes waited close by, still as stone, his gaze steady. Golden irises watched the back-and-forth, silent, taking it all in. Not a word slipped out. He simply remained - present, unhurried, aware.

Back toward his daughter turned Ronan's gaze.

"Are you… truly happy?"

Funny how such a small thing could carry so much. Not just concern - something deeper, like duty pressed into silence by love.

Chloe didn't hesitate.

"Yes."

Simple was her reply, yet the room stilled around it. That sureness in her tone spread through stone and silence alike. Not a flicker of question lived there, just calm strength sitting solid at the core.

A flicker of silence passed before Ronan looked again at her eyes.

After a pause, his head began to move up and down.

Few steps back, a couple of women shared quiet smiles, the air between them softening without a word.

A small step ahead - Rias moved, strands of red spilling over one shoulder. Arms folded, not tight, just sure. Her stance said she'd been here before.

Warm yet playful, her voice curled around his name. Ronan, fret less, she offered, eyes alight. Worrying suits you poorly, really. Set it down now and then. You carry too much already. Ease finds its way when you allow it. Moments pass quicker under lighter hearts. Let this one drift. Trust that some things settle without force. Stillness holds strength, if only we remember

A flicker in Ronan's gaze shifted her way, muscles tight like they'd been knotted by storms he hadn't named. His posture didn't ease, not even slightly - burdened instead by things unsaid.

A soft grin spread across Rias's face, strands of red slipping past her collarbone when she leaned slightly to one side.

"She's like a little sister to us."

Out of nowhere, her words just seemed sure - like facts settling into place. Not pushed, not argued, merely stated.

Sona gave a small nod at her side, still quiet like always.

"She's safe."

A quiet strength lived in her voice when she spoke - not loud, not flashy. Simply true. That kind of calm doesn't shout; it settles.

Fingers resting just above her elbows, Nova tilted her head a little. Her gaze held still, green and quiet.

"And stubborn enough that even if she wasn't happy, she would fight to change it."

A small grin tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"Honestly, I'd be more worried about whoever tried to stop her."

Her eyes flicked open, a quiet flush creeping in. "Hi there…"

Fingers tapping the armrest, Syra tilted ahead slightly, a grin spreading as if her moment had finally arrived.

"Also," she added, pointing a finger casually toward Leon, "Leon doesn't get the option to mistreat her."

A sly smile stretched across her face.

"We'd overthrow him."

The room burst into laughter.

Even the usually composed ministers couldn't hold it in.

Black shook his head with a quiet chuckle. Ronan himself let out a low laugh, the sound rough but genuine, like tension finally cracking open.

Leon rubbed the back of his neck.

"Good to know my reign depends on behaving myself."

Rias smirked. "Exactly."

He looked back at Chloe again, his eyes softer now.

Chloe noticed it immediately. She stepped a little closer to him, her expression gentle.

"You see?" Chloe said lightly. "I'm well protected."

Ronan nodded.

"Yes," he said slowly.

The word came out quieter than expected.

Then he looked toward Leon again.

For a moment the minister of Nagarath disappeared, replaced by a man whose daughter had just been entrusted to another.

All the titles, the politics, the courtly masks—they slipped away.

What remained was simply a father.

His chest rose with a deep breath, steadying himself.

Then he stepped forward.

The room fell silent.

He raised both hands—

And clapped them together once in a gesture of respect.

"My king," Ronan said, his voice thick with emotion.

Leon looked slightly surprised.

"Lord Ronan—"