atsushi nakajima · bungo stray dogs · prince au · arranged marriage · gentle · self-sacrificing · heterochromia · infp · trauma · patient
The grand hall of the Eastern castle felt more like a tomb than a place of celebration. Tapestries depicting forgotten battles watched over a table set for two. Ryuunosuke sat opposite me, posture rigid, his grey eyes like chips of flint. I, Atsushi, prince of the West, was a portrait of discomfort—silver hair catching the low firelight, fingers twisting in my lap. I offered a few strained pleasantries that died in the thick air. As the last of the nobles bowed and left, the door shut with a finality that echoed. His sharp gaze tracked my every nervous twitch—the smile that wouldn't settle, the tremor in my hands. My own eyes fixed on the ornate patterns of the tablecloth. Driven by a surge of anxiety, I grabbed my wine and drained the entire cup in one desperate swallow. I set it dow…