Chapter-7

The air in Big Mom's quarters hung heavy, laced with the cloying sweetness of her signature perfume and the unspoken tension thrumming between the figures gathered. Prespero, ever the dutiful first mate, stood stiffly beside a young man with eyes as dark as storm clouds and a smirk that could have curdled milk.

"Mama," Prespero rumbled, his voice echoing in the cavernous chamber, "this is Atlas, son of Whitebeard. As per your instructions, we verified his lineage."

Big Mom, a mountain of a woman draped in silks the color of thunderclouds, swiveled in her throne-like chair. Her gaze, sharp as a butcher's cleaver, sliced through Atlas, assessing him with the cold precision of a predator. He met her stare unflinchingly, his own dark eyes holding a glint of amusement that sent a shiver down Prespero's spine.

Silence stretched, thick and suffocating, before Big Mom spoke. Her voice, a guttural rumble, seemed to vibrate the very floorboards. "So, You are the spawn of Whitebeard. I tried to make him my husband, but never was able to gain his bloodline!"

Atlas's smirk widened, a touch of steel sharpening its edges. "You built a nice family here, just like my father."

Big Mom snorted, a sound like a walrus clearing its throat. "Words are cheap, boy."

Atlas uncrossed his arms, revealing a wicked glint of a blade strapped to his thigh. I see," he said simply, "then, what do you expect me to do?"

The air crackled. Prespero tensed, expecting Mama's ire to erupt like a summer storm. But to his surprise, she chuckled, a sound as unsettling as the rumble of an approaching avalanche.

"Getting to the point," she rumbled, her eyes glinting with something akin to approval. "Since, you have the Whitebeard blood in you, and you serve under me."

She leaned forward, her massive presence filling the space between them. "You will join this family, Atlas. As a son-in-law, by marriage with my daughter Smoothie."

Prespero's jaw nearly hit the floor. Mama, offering marriage? To Smoothie, of all people? He stole a glance at Atlas, expecting outrage

Instead, Atlas only raised an eyebrow, a sly smile playing on his lips. "And who might that be, Mama?"

He knew, of course. Everyone knew of Smoothie, the enigmatic Sweet Commander, as lethal as she was beautiful. But he played dumb, and Atlas played it well.

Prespero cleared his throat, his voice tight. "Smoothie, you don't know her. One of the Sweet Commanders. One of the strongest in the crew."

Atlas's smile widened, a touch of genuine curiosity flickering in his eyes. "And how old is this... Smoothie?"

"Twenty-six," Prespero replied, bracing himself for the inevitable storm.

But the storm never came. Instead, Big Mom boomed with laughter, a sound that shook the very rafters. "A strong son for a strong daughter," she declared, clapping her meaty hands together. "This marriage pleases me, Whitebeard's whelp. Consider yourself one of the family. Now, let's celebrate!"

Atlas, still grinning, raised an eyebrow. "Too old, Mama? Now, I am too young, and till I mature, she would have aged quite a bit!"

Big Mom's laughter boomed anew, shaking the lamps on the walls. "Oh, boy, you have guts," she rumbled, wiping a tear from her eye. "Most would lose a limb for questioning my decisions. But Whitebeard's blood... it does have a certain boldness to it."

A wicked glint entered her eyes. "Consider it a test, whelp. You want options? Fine. You can have two. Smoothie, my strongest daughter, or Pudding, a special one from a bloodline blessed with the Third Eye."

Prespero nearly choked. Marry Pudding? Mama was playing a dangerous game, offering something so... valuable. He stole a glance at Atlas, expecting shock, maybe even fear.

Atlas, however, merely tilted his head, his grin morphing into a thoughtful expression. "Pudding, huh? The Third Eye, you say? Sounds intriguing. How old is she?"

Prespero in a slow whisper said, "Seven!"

Atlas ran a hand through his windswept hair, a deep sigh escaping his lips. "Mama, with all due respect," he began, his voice laced with wry amusement, "Smoothie may be a force to be reckoned with, but a fourteen-year age gap? Even Dad couldn't stomach that kind of adventure."

His thoughts towards Pudding, imgining her third eye casting an unsettling gaze around him. "And Pudding," he continued, his voice softening slightly, "she's... unique. Special, even. But five years junior?" he muttered, "She must have seen a lot for her age," he mused, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Hated, even. Shunned. Pretty sure nobody wants her."

"And the Third Eye?" she rumbled, her voice low and dangerous. "Does it bother you, boy? Does it make her less desirable?" she continued, "She is hated by many and treated roughly by others,"

"I guessed that much," he replied. 

A tense silence settled in the room. Big Mom's gaze remained fixed on Atlas, her expression unreadable. Prespero shifted nervously, the air thick with anticipation. Finally, Atlas broke the silence with a sly grin.

"But here's the thing, Mama," he drawled, leaning forward. "Normally, as any red-blooded pirate would, I'd gladly say 'aye' to Smoothie. Strong woman, beautiful even through the rage. But there's something about Pudding... that Third Eye," he tapped his temple with a wink, "it is so undesirable to normal people, that I can't help but desire it." 

Big Mom blinked, her initial amusement replaced by a flicker of surprise. Her booming laughter, however, returned swiftly, though laced with a newfound edge. "You choose the ostracized one, the girl everyone shies away from? Either you're incredibly brave, or incredibly foolish," she boomed, her eyes twinkling with a dangerous glint.

"They always said I had screw loose," Atlas replied with a shrug, his grin undimmed. "But let's not rush into things. Six is a bit young, wouldn't you agree? Let her mature... maybe till Eighteen. Until then, I would still be with you and even after that, no need to rush."

Big Mom's expression morphed into a scowl. The very idea of someone manipulating her offer had clearly ruffled her feathers. "Never, whelp," she declared, her voice heavy with authority. "When Pudding turns sixteen. Not a day sooner, not a day later."

Prespero, still reeling from the unexpected turn of events, watched as Atlas straightened, a playful glint in his eyes. "This isn't a choice, so I agree!"

Atlas bowed, a silent agreement masking the thoughts swirling in his head. "10 years," he thought, "enough time to build my strength, plan my escape. With Smoothie, I wouldn't have had that luxury." A smirk played on his lips as he turned to leave, the game afoot.

"Brat," Big Mom's voice boomed, halting his steps. He turned, eyebrow raised in feigned surprise. "Yes, Mama?"

"I've changed my mind."

Atlas's smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of concern. "Huh?"

"You will marry Smoothie," she declared, her voice leaving no room for argument.

"But... Pudding..." Atlas started, his voice laced with confusion.

Big Mom cut him off with a piercing gaze. "You are Whitebeard's blood, Atlas. By the time Pudding matures, you'll be 22, strong enough to consider leaving. "

Atlas's smile faltered internally. "She saw through me," he thought, a knot of apprehension tightening in his stomach.

"But?" he pressed, clinging to the last shred of hope. "I won't betray you Mama. Please, let me marry Pudding, Mama. Please, respect my wish."

Big Mom's eyes narrowed, studying him intently. After a long silence, she finally spoke. "Fine," she conceded, a hint of amusement playing on her lips. "You will marry both Pudding and Smoothie."

Atlas's eyes widened in shock. "Both?" he stammered, his jaw nearly hitting the floor. "Isn't that... overkill?"

Big Mom chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down Prespero's spine. "Normally, yes," she admitted, "but you, brat, are no ordinary man. Your bloodline is special."

'This fat witch,' Atlas cursed his within.

***

Author's Note: The original Title for this Fanfic was: Daddy issues gone Nuclear. 

But I changed my mind at the last minute.