The Spot-Billed Ducks halted before the palace gates. Cobra dismounted swiftly, heading to the cart and signaling the driver to continue. Terracotta's death had shaken the court, but hosting Saint Ross was an even greater priority. With no other choice, Cobra handed off Terracotta's duties to Igaram and turned his full attention to entertaining the guest.
"King Cobra, if you would."
Saint Ross offered his arm to Gion as they stepped down from the carriage, with Sora and Stella trailing close behind. Gion's focus was elsewhere—split between her bat clones—so Ross guided her gently. In this formal setting, her silence raised no eyebrows.
Led by Cobra, the group entered Alabasta's grand banquet hall in Alubarna. To Ross's surprise, Queen Titi wasn't resting in her chambers. Instead, she awaited them there, poised and radiant.
She wore a flowing evening gown that accentuated her elegant figure and dignified poise, her slightly rounded belly hinting at her pregnancy. She carried herself like true royalty, unflappable.
"Titi, what are you doing here?" Cobra's eyes widened in genuine surprise.
"I heard His Highness had arrived. I couldn't let you handle the welcome alone."
Queen Titi smiled warmly, betraying none of the turmoil she'd shown earlier in her private quarters. Only when her gaze met Ross's did a flicker of something deeper—raw and unspoken—cross her features.
"If you're not feeling well, retire early tonight," Cobra murmured to her, concern lacing his voice. Then he guided her toward Ross. "Saint Ross, this is Titi, Queen of Alabasta and my wife. You've met before, so no need for formalities."
"We have. Queen Titi's beauty left quite the impression," Ross replied, a subtle smile playing on his lips.
His words were pure aristocratic courtesy, delivered with flawless grace—no overt flirtation. Compared to the depraved Celestial Dragons Cobra had heard of, Ross seemed almost restrained. He couldn't have known the truth: Ross's charm hid depths far more dangerous.
But Queen Titi heard it differently. Memories of those two fateful days flooded back—the encounter that had branded itself into her soul. The child growing inside her was his, a secret bond tying her to the man before her.
"Your Highness remains as captivating as ever," she replied evenly, masking her racing thoughts. With practiced composure, she fell in step beside Ross and his entourage, entering the banquet hall proper.
Inside, the party naturally divided. The men claimed one side of the lavish room, while the women drifted to another.
"Cobra, Your Highness—carry on. I'll borrow Lady Gion for some girl talk," Queen Titi said, linking arms with Gion. She nodded to Sora and Stella before leading them away.
She'd spotted Gion's distraction earlier, linking it to the crimson bat that had appeared by her side. Terracotta's unrest in the palace still lingered, though it posed little threat now. But Igaram? He remained a wildcard. Terracotta's fate had hardened her resolve: for the kingdom's survival, sacrifices had to be made. Igaram would be next.
Guilt twisted in her chest as she settled Gion beside her on a cushioned bench. Leaning in, she whispered, "What's the situation?"
Her voice trembled slightly, the thrill of conspiracy sharp—even with her husband and the father of her child chatting amiably just across the room.
"It's under control," Gion murmured, snapping back to the moment. "You can relax."
Sora, ever the peacemaker, took Queen Titi's hand with a gentle smile. "Mind if I call you Little Sister Titi from now on?"
The warmth in her tone cut through the tension like a cool desert breeze. Sora's own story mirrored Titi's in ways that bridged the gap—abandonment, hidden burdens, the weight of unwanted choices. But their pregnancies gave them common ground, a shared vulnerability. Sora had been cast aside by Judge; Titi had been cornered into her path. As they talked, the knots in Titi's shoulders eased, the conversation flowing into lighter topics: cravings, fears, the future.
Across the hall, Ross's exchange with Cobra went just as smoothly.
"Saint Ross, thank you for your concern about Titi," Cobra said, raising a glass in toast. An approachable Celestial Dragon felt like a rare stroke of luck.
"No trouble at all. Stella's my personal physician—she'll examine the princess later to ensure everything's fine."
Cobra's relief was palpable. "I can't thank you enough."
"Speaking of which, the princess mentioned the garrison earlier. My butler should have briefed you."
"Absolutely," Cobra nodded eagerly. "It's a boon for Alabasta. We'll cover all costs for the Marine troops stationed in the Jaygarcia District."
In his eyes, this was another win from Titi's diplomacy. The Great Age of Pirates had brought waves of raiders to Alabasta's shores. The local Marine base, commanded by a mere Rear Admiral, handled small fry well enough—but swarms of pirates overwhelmed it. The kingdom's own forces could quell civilian unrest, but against Grand Line-hardened buccaneers? They were outmatched.
"With the king's assurance, I'm at ease," Ross said. "We'll deploy an elite unit to keep pirates at bay. That said, Alabasta's climate seems... unforgiving."
Cobra sighed, his expression turning somber. "You're not wrong. Most of the land is desert, with cities clustered around scant oases. The Grand Line's weather is brutal compared to the Four Seas. The Nefertari family has fought this curse for generations, but progress is slow."
"Climate's a beast," Ross agreed, feigning deep thought. "Still, basing everything near oases should suffice."
Cobra caught the subtext: Ross fretted over his troops' welfare in this harsh environment. It struck at Alabasta's core survival, so he pressed on. "Your worries are justified. If you're free soon, I'd be honored to show you the Jaygarcia District site myself—ensure it's suitable."
"Perfect," Ross said, his smile genuine.
In truth, the garrison mattered little to him. What he craved was luring Cobra away from Alubarna. Once the king stepped out, the capital's fate would be Ross's to shape—without interference.
He preferred words over weapons, diplomacy over domination. Force was a tool for desperation, not habit.
As the evening wore on, the banquet thrummed with cautious harmony. Laughter echoed from the women's corner, where Sora's stories drew soft chuckles from Titi. Nearby, Cobra poured wine, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around him. Ross watched it all, his mind already plotting the next move in Alabasta's fragile game.
But beneath the pleasantries, shadows lengthened. Titi's hand rested protectively on her belly, her eyes darting to Igaram's distant figure. One wrong word, one misplaced loyalty, and the fragile peace could shatter.
…
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