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Her whole life, Praline knew her only merit to her mother was her merman heritage—and thus, her ability to be married off to some fishman or merman. Not that Praline cared; no husband could be worse than her mother, could he? She didn’t really have higher expectations than that.
In her mind, the best case scenario was being married to some guy who was gone all the time, pirating or sleeping around or whatever, giving her some semblance of freedom for the first time in her life.
So, when the Sun Pirates joined Big Mom Pirates in an alliance, she celebrated. They were exactly what she wanted—and if she was to marry Jinbe? Good enough for her. From what she heard, he was a decent, honourable guy; she was sure they would be able to reach some sort of agreement.
But then…
Then, she actually met her husband-to-be.
And the rest was history.
“Praline? Are you there?”
“In the kitchen!” Praline called out to her husband, stirring the clam soup she was making as she hummed happily. She glanced over her shoulder when she heard the door open, smiling at the sight of Aladdin, visibly exhausted, stumbling in. “Shashasha, welcome home.”
Aladdin sighed, swimming over to her to hug her from behind, pressing a small kiss to the nape of her neck. “Glad to be home,” he muttered into her skin, making Praline giggle.
“Looks like someone had a rough day.”
“Don’t even ask,” Aladdin groaned. “On my way to see King Neptune, princess Shirahoshi caught me and I had to tell her all about our ‘adventures’ and about Luffy and his crew—whom, as you know, we didn’t even talk to. When I finally got to the King, I had to explain everything that happened with your mother and Luffy and Jinbe. Then I found out what a fucking mess the Reverie was. When I tell you it sounds worse than Pudding’s wedding…”
Praline laughed, spinning around in Aladdin’s arms to hug him, pressing her cheek against her husband’s. “Shashasha! Dinner will be ready soon, you can go relax for now. But then you have to tell me all about the fancy noble drama.”
Aladdin groaned, his head dropping to bury in the crook of Praline’s neck. “Can I just stay here…?”
“Baby,” Praline teased as she stroked Aladdin’s back.
She never wanted to prepare dinner any other way.