The next morning, in the spacious yet simple royal palace of Alabasta, Ross stirred awake. A soft weight pressed against his right arm—the binding warmth of Titi curled up beside him like a contented kitten. She'd been like this since last night, her serene face inches from his.
Ross still couldn't quite believe how bold she'd become. After getting Cobra thoroughly drunk, Titi—fueled by liquor or her own resolve—had pulled him into a heated kiss right in front of the king. Ross hadn't resisted; why would he? Titi's condition had stabilized enough for light activity, and he'd kept things gentle, stepping back when she tired.
At her insistence, they'd retreated to the Queen's palace—a chamber even Cobra had never entered.
"Ugh... I feel drained," Titi murmured, stirring as she clutched him tighter.
Ross chuckled, resting a hand on her bandaged side to channel a bit of healing energy. "If you knew you'd feel this way, why push so hard last night?"
She swatted his hand away with a pout. "Don't. It stings."
Yesterday's turmoil still lingered in her eyes. The Igaram fiasco had been the tipping point—watching Cobra grovel to Ross had sealed her choice. She was no saint; getting her husband blackout drunk to steal a night with another man? That made her a villain in her own story.
"Fine. I'll have Stella tend to you later. Rest up these next few days. Cobra and I are heading out to tour the rest of Alabasta."
With Titi's clumsy but earnest help, Ross dressed. Her fingers fumbled like she'd never buttoned a shirt before, but her focus was unwavering.
"Cobra... what do you plan for him?" Her voice wavered, laced with unease.
Ross kept his tone even. "Don't trouble yourself. I've already sent Jaygarcia District's garrison. My steward's en route to Alabasta too."
He didn't need her involvement—just her silence. Someone who'd flip from devotion to betrayal overnight couldn't be trusted with a knife. Titi, as she was now, suited him fine.
That steward? Zane. Among his crew, she handled admin and logistics best—no major blunders, at least. Sora, with her Brain-Brain Fruit, could manage too, but research suited her more. Finding sharp minds to turn his visions into reality was a pirate's nightmare in this chaotic world.
The Jaygarcia District was settling under Saint Saturn's watch; policies stayed on track. Zane's skills were needed here, plus Alabasta's proximity to Reverse Mountain made it ideal for expansion.
"I get it. I'll stay put in the palace."
Titi nodded, finishing with his collar before slipping into her own robes. Ross's words hung unspoken: when he and Cobra returned, the king would be gone from her life forever. Relief softened her features.
She didn't dare dwell on Cobra's fate. Watching Ross depart, Titi let out a quiet sigh. In the end, she'd chosen herself—and Vivi—over her husband. Sticking with Cobra meant death for them all; Alabasta would crumble unchanged under tyrants like him. This was the best shot at survival.
"You always said kindness begets kindness, Cobra," she whispered, hand on her swollen belly. "But the world's no fairy tale." To the life inside: "Vivi, take after your father in strength. And remember—a man offering only softness can't shield you from storms."
Wicked woman indeed.
Ross wasted no time after leaving the palace, slipping into Gion's chambers like a shadow. Cobra still wore the crown; appearances mattered. As Ross's "confidant," he played the part—Gion greeted him at the door, papers in hand.
"Saint Ross, you wanted this."
"Thanks. Appreciate it."
He took the rubbing, its surface etched with ancient script—the Poneglyph Gion had lifted from The Tomb of the Kings under cover of night.
"Even the World Government keeps this knowledge locked tight. Should we call in Olvia and Nico Robin? They've cracked these before," Gion said, curiosity piqued. She'd brushed up on ancient texts thanks to them.
Ross shook his head with a faint smile. "No need. This one's loaded with secrets." He traced the lines, voice low as he translated:
"'Inscribed here, under the moon's gaze, by divine will. The iron warship Pluton slumbers in the Republic's depths. One volley cracks the heavens, sinks ten thousand isles—a god's fury, a world's doom. The Kozuki clan upholds this eternal vow, awaiting the destined one. They swear fealty in blood and soul, guardians till the end.'"
"Pluton?!" Gion's eyes widened. Sora, eavesdropping from the corner, froze in surprise.
They'd been with Ross long enough to know the legends: three ancient weapons, born of the Void Century. Pluton, the island-killer, humanity's deadliest forge.
"But how do you read ancient script?" Gion pressed. She'd missed his display at the mausoleum.
Stella piped up from nearby, grinning. "Sister Gion, the master's always known it. You just never asked."
"Details," Ross cut in. "Point is, Pluton's buried in Wano, under Kozuki watch. But this 'destined one'? That's the hook—fate's chosen, tied to prophecy. No ordinary soul."
Sora leaned in, thoughtful. "Wano's on our path anyway. We snag Pluton once we're there." Her gaze sharpened. "But a destined figure? That screams trouble—or opportunity."
Ross nodded, folding the rubbing away. The ancient words hummed with promise, pulling them deeper into the shadows of history. Alabasta was just the start.
—
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