In Alabasta, the announcement of Princess Nefertari Titi's pregnancy had ignited nationwide celebration. The royal family had long been beloved by the common folk, sparing them heavy taxes beyond the obligatory Heavenly Tribute and keeping the nobility's influence in check. This goodwill had earned them unwavering loyalty.
Years earlier, when Nefertari Cobra turned thirty without an heir, whispers of a succession crisis had rippled through the kingdom. What if something happened to the king? But now, with Titi expecting, those fears evaporated like morning mist over the desert.
Amid the festivities, though, Titi herself was a wreck—pacing her chambers, her face drawn and weary. Exposure terrified her. The scandal would shatter the royal family's spotless reputation, dragging Alabasta into chaos.
At least she was the only one who knew the truth. That grim comfort sustained her.
But as Ross's arrival loomed, dread gnawed deeper. Today was the day he docked in Alabasta.
Unlike Cobra, who had ridden out to the port with fanfare, Titi stayed behind, claiming fatigue from her condition. In truth, her body felt fine; the capital-to-port trip was a quick jaunt, barely a day's ride. No, it was fear keeping her locked away—fear of facing Ross, of her secret slipping through the cracks.
"By now, they've met," she murmured, hand drifting to her gently swelling belly. A flicker of nostalgia softened her gaze.
Cobra and Ross stirred wildly different emotions in her. Her husband was kind, steady—but passive. He avoided confrontation, yielding until cornered, only then digging in his heels.
Ross? He was a storm: bold, relentless, seizing what he desired without apology.
Her eyes clouded with conflict. Before those fateful days, Ross's brilliance had intrigued her from afar, nothing more. But now? The die was cast. Two men, two worlds. Ross had awakened something raw, untamed—a thrill Cobra could never match.
"What am I doing?" Titi shook her head, snapping from the Levely. Lately, Cobra's image faded from her thoughts, supplanted by Ross's unyielding presence. It had started perhaps with the pregnancy's confirmation, or maybe on the voyage home from Drum Island. Either way, it unnerved her.
"I'm scared," she whispered, as if voicing it aloud could steady her racing heart. "Scared of what comes next."
"Scared? Of folks sniffing out your little secret?"
The voice—a woman's, laced with mockery—echoed through the empty palace hall. Titi yelped, jumping to her feet.
"Who's there?"
The welcoming banquet for Ross had drawn every servant away, including her personal attendant. She should have been alone.
"Queen Titi. Long time no see."
A blood-red bat fluttered from the shadows, hovering before her. Its crimson eyes gleamed with sly amusement.
"You... Lady Gion?"
Titi's shock gave way to recognition. During her time with Ross, she'd glimpsed Gion's eerie bat summons—creations from her Devil Fruit powers, strong in their own right and linked to their mistress's senses.
"Sharp memory, Queen. You even remember a little old me."
The bat's mouth moved, channeling Gion's drawling tone. Titi, well-versed in the world's oddities from her travels, steadied her breath. Anyone else might have fled in terror.
"Lady Gion, why are you here?" Titi forced calm into her voice, though her mind raced. Ross and Cobra had likely just crossed paths en route to the capital. For Gion's familiar to seek her out now meant intent—urgent business.
She knew Gion was Ross's wife, his closest confidante. Those few days with him had made that clear: bats perched like silent sentinels, Gion's ever-watchful eyes. Just as Cobra had once trusted her implicitly.
A sharp ache twisted in Titi's chest. She pressed a hand to her abdomen, steadying herself. No turning back now. For the child's sake—and Alabasta's—she'd see this through, come hell or high water.
"I've come to check on the family's newest addition," Gion replied, her voice through the bat carrying a teasing edge.
Titi's eyes widened. She bolted upright. "How—how do you know?!"
No use denying it; Gion's words cut too close. "Family's first princess," not Alabasta's heir. And the only "family" that mattered to Gion was the Jaygarcia lineage.
She knows. They all know.
Titi's world tilted, breath catching like a noose. Despair crashed over her, heavy as a tidal wave.
"Easy now," Gion soothed. "Ross is fine with keeping her as Nefertari to the world outside. But within the family? She's Saint Jaygarcia Vivi —the first to bear the 'Saint' title among the daughters."
Gion's tone mixed sympathy and resolve. It was a lavish concession, far beyond what Sora had received. But that leniency? Sora's own suggestion.
The Nefertari were an ancient Celestial Dragon bloodline, after all—distant kin who hadn't fully shed their heritage. Queen Titi herself hadn't taken Cobra's name upon marriage; she was Nefertari born and bred. Their child, by rights, deserved Celestial status.
Titi saw through the reassurance, though. It was a balm for her guilt, nothing more. Ross's vision left room for only one true Celestial house—theirs. And they were all in for the long haul.
"Saint..." Titi echoed, voice trembling. She sank back into her chair, the word looping in her mind.
Celestial Dragons branded their sons and daughters "Saint" in full—noble titles dripping with divine arrogance. Naming her unborn girl as such meant acceptance, pre-birth, into that exalted circle.
Hyperbole aside, the implications dazzled: At birth, Alabasta would hail her. The world would kneel. The World Government itself might anoint her with pomp and ceremony.
For a mother-to-be, it was intoxicating—a slow poison seeping into her veins, eroding her resolve.
"I..." Titi's lips parted in protest, but words failed. What recourse did she have?
This was Ross's gift to his daughter, not hers to refuse. And the child? Alabasta's future hope. Cobra would never permit harm to her, scandal or not. He'd swallow the truth, claim her publicly, and move on—for the kingdom's sake.
Defiance crumbled. Maybe ignorance was bliss. Following Ross's script might spare everyone the fallout—the best she could hope for now.
—
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