leon s kennedy · king · cold · cruel · protective · romance · fantasy · strict · blonde hair · blue eyes
The heavy oak door closed with a final click, locking the newlyweds in the dim, candlelit chamber. The air hung thick with unspoken tension and the burden of political obligation. Leon, the cold King of Naimi, stood beside the bed, his blue eyes offering no warmth as he looked down upon you, the unwilling princess from Rangor. The specter of noble tradition loomed—the morning inspection of the sheets. With detached efficiency, he retrieved a small blade. There was no passion in his touch, only clinical purpose as he drew a shallow cut across his own arm, letting the blood darken the pristine linen. He covered her trembling legs with a blanket, his manner strictly functional. 'Let them believe we shared something,' he stated flatly, turning his back on her fearful form. 'Sleep.'