A/N: We've got a scoop of titles, a dash of grandchildren, and a sprinkle of dead languages!

Whitebeard first met him at Lougetown. At that point, the man who would become a legend had only just started out on his journey as a pirate and had yet to form a crew. There had been a few people who approached him, asking him to join their crew after they had seen him dispatch a group of bandits with just a swing of his bisento. But he didn't want to join a crew. He wanted his own crew, he wanted to be his own captain. Even if he wanted to join someone else's crew, his instincts told him that they weren't what he was looking for. If there was something he was confident in other than his fighting skills, it was his gut.

At the end of the day Whitebeard found himself nursing a bottle of sake in one of the many bars. He busied himself by watching customers come and go, listening to the stories, gossips, and news from some of the louder and more loose-lipped drinkers. Chuckling, he took another swig of his sake. "Isn't it ironic that whilst I'm watching others, someone is watching me?"

It wasn't the first time that he had been watched, be it in bars or towns. Barring his growing reputation, his larger than normal size often garnered the attention of wandering eyes. It was however, the first time that he was unable to locate his, ah, admirer. Though he wasn't worried about being harmed by this being. Whitebeard could not sense any animosity, only faint curiosity . He wondered if the other had been amused by Whitebeard's initial attempts of locating him before giving up hours earlier. Instead of continuing to try and seek out the hidden observer, he decided to wait. Whitebeard had no doubt that he would be approached before the day was over.

So he passed the rest of the night drinking before heading back to his ship. As he approached the docks, he realized that wasn't alone. Standing next to his ship, barely visible in the dark of the night was a cloaked figure with his back towards him, almost as if standing there to admire the vessel.

"My mysterious admirer."

Just as he was about to open his mouth to invite the figure onto the deck of his ship and perhaps share a drink, the being turned around and the sight left Whitebeard silent in awe.

It was not any outward features that made Whitebeard fall silent. Not the piercing blue eyes, not the blond hair or his physique. It was the sudden all encompassing presence that fell around him, as if the cloak had prevented it from being noticed by all unless the wearer purposely faced you.

"I would like to join your crew."

That threw Whitebeard for a loop. He had been expecting to be asked about his objectives, goals, dreams but not a request to join his currently non-existent crew. Yet he took it in stride and said "yes" and the figure smiled as if he had expected that response.

"What an empty smile… With the way he's smiling, one would think that he's just trying to replicate what he's seen other people do without understanding why they're smiling in the first place, or what feelings are." He didn't know yet just how close to the truth that thought was until years later.

Several nights later, as they were making their way towards the next island, Whitebeard found himself sitting on the deck and pouring two glasses of sake. Without a word, his first mate stepped out of the shadows and sat down opposite him. The two quietly downed the drink before refilling it again.

"I guess this would be as good a time as any to ask for the name of my first mate." When Whitebeard had accepted him, he didn't push for any answers or information, not even a name. He had welcomed him onto his ship and let him settle into one of the empty rooms. Some might call him foolish and yet…and yet Whitebeard knew that it was the right course of action.

His first mate stared into his cup for a few moments, eyebrows furrowed as if trying to remember his name.

"My name… I've been called many names over the course of my life. Guardian, Saviour, Lord, Demon, Father and even Grandfather." Old blue eyes looked up from his glass and stared at Whitebeard. "The name that I was given at birth was Harry. But I have a feeling that I will need a new name, something that will be worthy of this era and of your command." A few more moments passes as Whitebeard processed the information that he had just heard. His first mate had old eyes that lacked the emotions that human beings were born with, and yet there was something. Almost as if the being before him was slowly gaining emotions back. It may not be the emotions that he had lost but they were emotions nonetheless.

"Marco." Whitebeard declared. "Take on the name Marco and the title of Son. Under that name and title, roam the seas with me and burn a new path for yourself."

"Marco…" The first-mate mumbled. "The Italian name for the Latin name Marcus. It derived from the name Mars, the Roman god of War." Then he spoke up in a louder voice. "Interesting choice. Then I will do so. I will be your first-mate and your son." And so a new name and title was given to the Master of Death and he drank to it.

The next morning he asked his captain why did he choose that name to give him. It couldn't be because of the meaning behind it as the Roman and Greek myths were lost, even to the Oharians, only leaving him to remember them.

"Gurarararara! To me, the name Marco represents freedom and strength. I gave you that name in hoping that you will find the freedom that you need and the strength to protect it. I also hope that you will use your strength in the future to protect any future members of the crew." The answer made Harry, now Marco, to feel something in his dead heart but he did not know what it was.

Perhaps one day he might.

"Oyaji," The new title caused Whitebeard's eyes to widen in surprise, though it was a welcomed one. "What is your dream?"

"My dream, is to gain a crew that will become my family." A declaration, not a wish.

"Then with the name of Marco, I'll protect that dream with all of my strength." Hearing that, Whitebeard looked down at his son, the first of many, with pride shining in his eyes. "That is all I am asking for." With that, the world shifted, making a place for the new name that the Master of Death acquired.

Over time, the crew grew in size, strength and reputation. Whitebeard also found himself learning more about his first-mate. That his son enjoyed eating pasta, hated brussels sprouts, could turn into a phoenix without eating a Devil Fruit, was much older than he was, had family of his own, and that his favorite place on the ship was the crows nest. When asked about his grandchildren, his eyes would shine in pride, or at least the closest thing to that emotion. "They may not be my grandchildren by blood but they are my grandchildren nonetheless. Some may have made decisions that I do not approve of, that I will be disappointed about, but I will continue to accept them and let them carve their own path that will shape both the present and future." Then he continued with a small smile, "I do have a grandson related to me by blood though. He's a pirate as well, you two would probably get along well."

They were known as the Whitebeard Pirates, a fearsome crew that was becoming one of the major powers of the sea. But his name wasn't the only one making waves. Other names such as Roger, Kaido, Rayleigh, Big Mom, Sengoku and Garp were too, gaining influence. Marco himself did not receive any bounty poster like many in the crew did, but his name had spread and gained the title, 'Marco the Phoenix'. When Whitebeard asked him why he didn't get a bounty poster, he answered with, "The Gorosei wouldn't dare." and Whitebeard did not ask any further.

"Of course they wouldn't. After all, I am still the person those young infants call Father." Marco thought to himself.

One day, in the first half of the Grandline, they finally encountered the Roger Pirates. The two crews had met in the bar of the small island they had stopped at to resupply. When the Roger Pirates entered the bar and saw the other crew, they immediately froze on the spot. Both crews stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting out into laughter. "Well, it's not as if we have done anything to piss each other off anyway." Roger declared and so the two crews drank and partied together. Seeing their crew getting along for the night, the captains walked away to the beach.

Once they settled themselves, they talked about everything and nothing. Just as Roger was about to start telling Whitebeard about his first meeting with Garp, he saw a figure approaching from behind the other captain. The drink in his hand slipped out of frozen fingers when the approaching figure finally came into view. Whitebeard, seeing him stiffen up and staring in disbelief at something behind him turned around but only saw his oldest son. "Ah, this is my first-mate, Marco. Though you may have heard people call him Marco the Phoenix." But Roger wasn't listening and continued to stare at Marco.

"Jiji…" Roger spoke after regaining his voice. Now it was Whitebeard's turn to fall silent. Of all the things that he was expecting, 'Jiji' was not one of them. The word was spoken with so many emotions mixed together.

"You've found yourself a good crew my little treasure." Hearing that nickname broke the straw hat wearing captain out of his trance and laugh with tears rolling down his cheeks. "You've always called me that because of my name. Gol D….Gold…." Then he shouted at Marco. "I'm not little anymore Jiji! I'm already a full grown adult!" But Marco just gave him that pacifying smile. "You'll forever be little to me." His reply only made Roger cry even harder. Truly, the sight of a fully grown man with snot and tears running was something that many in the bar that night would rather not see again.

That night Whitebeard learned that his son was much older than he had guessed and had some ridiculous family connections. But he accepted it, just like he had previously accepted everything about his son when he had joined.

Though that same night he had asked something of Marco.

"Do you know how to read the language of the Poneglyphs?" Whitebeard had always found the ancient texts fascinating to look at but had never found a way to learn it. If he wanted to learn it from the Oharians, he would have to stay on their island for a long time and that was not something he could afford.

"Of course know how to read it." His oldest son replied. "I created it."

Every night, the two would sit on the deck. Whitebeard would listen in fascination as Marco spoke of the lost civilizations, myths and meanings behind each symbol. Those were the moments with Marco that Whitebeard treasured dearly.

It was also through these moments that led to the majority of the Whitebeard pirates being able to read the ancient language.

A/N: Hey all! Sorry for the long wait. Real life got in the way and it resulted in this chapter lying in my computer for several month. But it's here now so hope y'all liked it. Please leave comments ;-; I love any kind of comments as long as they aren't flames. Constructive criticism is welcome!