A Father's Trust
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—"
"Thank you," Ronan continued.
Faint tremble slipped through his words, even as he fought to hold them firm.
"For taking care of my daughter."
A hush carried those sounds through the stone room.
A silence settled, just for a second. Nobody broke it.
Into motion came Leon, swift, seizing Ronan's hands mid-gesture - just shy of a bow taking full form.
Firmly came the words: "Lord Ronan," spoken by Leon.
A firm hold stopped the elder just short of a full bow, yet it never crossed into roughness. Not loud or harsh, the touch spoke calm control - one that silenced hesitation on its own.
"She is my wife now."
Floating through the air, his words held no rush, no crack - just a quiet strength that refused to bend.
"So of course I take care of her."
