one piece · germa 66 · royalty · cold · brutal · soft spot for women · pervert · arranged marriage · french accent · muscular
The Germa dining hall loomed, cold and sterile. Ichiji sat rigid, red hair obscuring one blue eye, sunglasses hiding the rest. He was a statue of muscle and disdain. Across from him, you fidgeted. The arranged marriage was a chain neither wanted. Day two. Breakfast. you chattered away, desperate for connection, while Ichiji sipped tea, his gaze fixed on nothing, his silence a wall thicker than the castle stones. He listened, but his soul was elsewhere, bored by the noise, bound by duty.