Disclaimer: Ranma & Co. belong to....you know who! Meaning, not me.

WARNING! This chapter contains LIME material. Do not read if you are underage.
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The entire Jiyan court and Akane watched as Ranma and Ukyo began their battle.

Ukyo swung his huge spatula sideways, intending to break Ranma's ribs in a single swipe. Ranma dodged the attack, leaping over the weapon and spinning a kick into Ukyo's exposed side. Ukyo managed to block it partially and swung the spatula again.

"Having a weapon that large...it's powerful, but its size leaves little space for defense,” noted Ranma.

"Shut up!" Ukyo slashed the spatula like a sword, so that its air pressure was reduced. The speed caught Ranma by surprise and he flipped over Ukyo’s head. Ukyo turned around, the spatula propped against his shoulder. It looked like Ranma had disappeared.

"Speed won't help you," said a voice behind him, and he turned in shock to see Ranma perched on the flat end of the spatula.

"Why you...!" Speechless with rage, Ukyo dropped his spatula and pulled out long strings of noodles. “What do you think you’re doing?”

"Noodles?!" Everyone in the Hall stared. What was he going to do with those?

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The riders had been galloping for two weeks now, with shorts break only for rest or water. They were a small force, only 600 men and horses, and their very size and the magic they carried enabled them to move undetected through the wilderness.

At their head rode three men, one an old and grizzled warrior, the other two young men, though one wore a cloak. The former raised his hand, calling for a quick stop. Their last break had been 14 hours ago.

Wahid al-Tissa surveyed his men.

“We are getting close to Jiya,” he said. “Remember, the city is NOT to be attacked. Our goal is the palace. Our informer will let us in through their secret passageway, which will lead straight into the heart of the palace. Lord Mousse has his own business within the palace. We will take over the palace and hold the King hostage until Lord Happosai’s main force is let through and we can capture the city itself.

There were nods from his men. One of the two young men spoke up.

“And all the women are for our taking!” Tarou smiled when the men broke into grins.

“We ride!”

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“Noodle wrap!” Ukyo shouted.

Thick strand of noodles suddenly shot out from his hands, twining around Ranma, who found himself wrapped in the long strings, unable to move a muscle. Ukyo pulled, and the noodles tightened.

“Ouch!” They stung like hell. Ranma scrutinized the noodles closely. He saw a glint of steel in the bindings. Ukyo began to laugh.

“Those aren’t normal noodles, stupid! They have tiny cores of steel. You’ll never get loose!”

“Is that so?” Ranma pulled at the sharp noodles. They were shredding his clothes and biting into his skin. Ukyo got ready to swing his spatula again. His first swipe caught Ranma in the back, sending the prince flying. The deadly weapon came back for another shot, but Ranma had turned, twisted and jumped over the spatula, allowing its sharp edge to catch the noodles and break the strands. He was free.

“That’s it. I’m done playing,” he said, “I’ve got better things to do with my time.” Ukyo’s eyes widened on hearing that. Ranma pushed off and delivered a crescent kick to Ukyo’s chest, knocking him backward. Ukyo’s partial block absorbed some of the force of the blow.

“Shurikens!” Ukyo cried out, and a trio of miniature spatulas came whizzing at Ranma. He jumped to avoid them, and they embedded themselves in a pillar behind him.

“Bombs away!” He threw a handful of balls in Ranma’s direction, and explosions echoed through the Hall. Ranma coughed, choking on exploding flour. What an unusual attack, he thought.

Suddenly, the Hall was filled with screaming. Ranma’s first thought was that the bombs must have fallen farther than he realized. Then, through tearing eyes he saw black-clad men, swords drawn, pouring through a door into the Hall.

Stunned, he watched as members of the court were hacked down like wheat, and the few soldiers in the Hall were far outnumbered. The majority of the soldiers were placed outside the Hall, to guard from attack. Today, even though security in the Hall had been increased due to the number of guests attending the engagement ceremony, they were still nowhere near enough to combat these men.

Guards should be pouring in from outside, but they were nowhere to be seen.

Beside Ranma, Ukyo paused in surprise. “Who the hell are these people?” he asked. He held up his spatula. “It looks like our fight will have to be postponed, Prince. Thank Khaitan that you will live to see another day.”

Ranma didn’t bother to reply. He’d suddenly remembered Akane. He couldn’t see her in the throng of fighting people. The silk mat she’d been carried in on was empty. And then he was facing a wicked, curved sword and had his own problems to worry about.

Akane held off a soldier with one of the poles from the silk mat that had carried her. The soldier was leering all the while, and Akane hoped he’d slip on his own drool.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing trying to fight me, eh?” The soldier asked, grinning. “Why don’t you put your toy down and we’ll go into a corner and get to know each other better.”

Akane spun the pole in her hands, leaving crimson powder marks on it.” Why don’t you get to know this!” she yelled, smacking it hard into his ribs and reversing it so the end collided with his skull. He drifted peacefully to the ground. Akane knelt and hit a pressure point with the hilt of her small ankle dagger.

She looked around. Genma was beside his throne, fighting three soldiers with his enormous blade with a grimace of rage on his face. She thanked God that the Queen and the princesses had retreated to their rooms to await the end of Ranma and Ukyo’s battle. Akane herself was partially hidden behind one of the giant pillars and as such did not draw much attention. She ripped off the enveloping caftan and decided to keep her pole. She preferred it to a sword.

Where was Ranma? She saw him fighting near the entrance. He had already shed his caftan for the fight with Ukyo and like herself, he was clad only in his blue tunic and trousers.

Wahid looked around with satisfaction. His soldiers would capture the palace in a matter of minutes. The plan was successful. Mousse was nowhere to be seen. He shrugged, his skin prickling with dislike for the mysterious sorcerer.

Ukyo was swinging his spatula in one corner, knocking aside soldiers with deadly force.

Where were all the guards?? Akane didn’t even understand how this small army had gained entry to the palace, though she, like everyone else, had realized almost immediately that they were Arun.

She had to get out of there and ride back to Jin with the news of the attack. She slowly began to make her way to the entrance.

Ukyo was considering the entrance too. It wasn’t a good idea to be trapped in the palace. Outside, there was a chance of getting to a horse and escaping home to Cantos. They needed to be warned.

A ring of soldiers, all holding weapons suddenly surrounded Ukyo, who discovered Ranma also in the circle, eyeing the men warily. With one thought, they went back to back, watching the soldiers approach.

Three of them suddenly attacked Ranma, and behind him another three attacked Ukyo. The two martial artists spun and kicked, weaved and dodged, while around them the battle continued to rage.

Akane spun the pole to stand upright after felling another soldier and with one eye gauged her distance to the entrance. Only the soldiers fighting Ranma and Ukyo were between her and freedom. She went to their defense.

A sword tangled with Ukyo’s spatula, sending both weapons flying. Ranma took advantage of that and did a roundhouse kick that toppled the soldier, leaving Ukyo to dispatch of him.

“Look out!” Ukyo yelled. Behind Ranma, a soldier raised his sword high to fell the young prince. He suddenly got an odd look on his face and slowly tumbled to the ground. Behind him, Akane stood twirling her pole, smiling at Ranma and Ukyo.

“I’d suggest getting out of here right now,” she said.

Ukyo opened her mouth to reply and then a voice from her nightmares spoke up and bled all the color from her face.

“Princess Ukyo! Imagine seeing you here.”

Ranma and Akane goggled at her. “Princess...?” Simultaneously, their eyes went to her chest. “You’re a girl?”

She’d recognize that voice anywhere. Ukyo slowly turned to look into the mocking eyes of Tarou, Prince of the Arun. Her hands clenched into fists as the memories came flying back.

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Cantos-One Year Ago

Ukyo was outside in the palace courtyard talking to one of the maids. Her green veil fluttered into her eyes and the wind gusted, pulling the soft green material of her gown away from her legs. At 15, she was shapely and womanly, just as a princess was supposed to be.

Kohl added mystery to her luminous green eyes, and her perfumed hands played with the edge of her long, emerald-edged sleeve. No one knew that she secretly studied Okinomiyaki martial arts with her nurse. She was a dutiful daughter, wanting to please her father and be a perfect young woman, but the arts gave her mind release from the boring duties of a lady.

Hooves clattered on the colored mosaic tiles of the courtyard floor, and her older brother Iori came riding through the iron palace gates, laughing with Ukyo’s betrothed, Tsubasa, their personal guard riding behind them.

Ukyo frowned. She couldn’t stand Tsubasa. The young noble thought too highly of himself, and although he showed her the respect she was due as a princess of Cantos, she often caught a dark look in his eyes, as though he would like to do things to her that only he could imagine. Once, she’d caught him going through her trunk of clothes, in her room.

Iori and Tsubasa were in such good cheer that Ukyo, wondering what could have made that evil pair so happy, did not immediately see the long rope tied to Iori’s saddle. When she did, she gasped to see that the rope was attached to what looked like a man, his hands and legs tied together.

He had obviously been dragged for many miles and sharp stones and rocks had shredded his clothes.

She ran forward. “Iori, what are you doing? Release that man!”

“Oh, you wouldn’t want me to do that, little sister!” Iori said, his white teeth flashing in his dark, narrow face. “You see, that’s the son of our enemy. Tarou, the Arun Prince.”

Tsubasa leaned down to grin at Ukyo. “We met him and his little sister traveling by horse to who knows where. He was a tough one, but of course no problem for Iori and me at all.”

No problem with 15 soldiers riding with you, Ukyo thought dryly.

“Where’s the sister?” she asked.

Iori and Tsubasa looked at each other again, laughing. “We left her, of course. A woman is useless as spoils of war.”

“You...just left her?” Ukyo breathed. Hope shot through her. Maybe they hadn’t...

“After we had our enjoyment of her, of course. We rode her long and hard. She was not easy to break. A feisty brat. Don’t worry. We left her with Tsubasa’s knife in her breast. She won’t be getting up anytime soon.”

Ukyo sucked in a sharp breath. She turned away and forced herself to keep walking even when Tsubasa called after her, “Ukyo, don’t you want to see our spoils?”

She did, later, when Tarou was strung up on a giant wheel in the Great Hall, so that all could walk past him and watch him being tortured by the guards. Her father the King was overjoyed to have caught so important an enemy, and there was much laughter and high spirits in the hall.

The first time, she walked up and studied him, the welts and wounds on his muscular shoulders and torso, the whip marks curled around his long legs. Iori and Tsubasa would never have been able to capture him by themselves. His short, curly black hair hung limp, strands falling across his forehead. His eyes were closed and the thick, sable crescents of his lashes lay like half moons against his pale cheeks.

“I know your face,” she said, showing respect to her enemy. The lashes lifted, and silver green eyes were staring at her,

“I know yours too, sister of my sister’s murderer,” he whispered. Ukyo gasped. Then when his eyes closed again, she turned and left. After that, she avoided the Great Hall and didn’t enter it again until one day it was discovered that the prince had somehow escaped. Iori and Tsubasa were furious and they hunted Tarou in vain.

The next big event in the Great Hall was Ukyo’s marriage to Tsubasa.

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It was Ukyo’s wedding night.

In the bridal suite, Ukyo knelt in the middle of her enormous bridal bed, head bowed, awaiting her groom. An opaque, maroon, gold-edged veil hid her face. Her henna-decorated hands lay palms down, the thumbs touching. She could feel the thick silk sheets against the pads of her fingers.

Fat, hand-worked gold bangles with garnet stones covered her wrists halfway to her elbows. The long maroon, satin vest she wore glittered with semi-precious stones and gold thread. It pooled around her knees and the darker, satin skirts that covered her feet.

She heard the door open and close. She just couldn’t imagine Tsubasa’s hands on her...that fat, gross fool...But as a woman, surely it was her place to...

Footsteps muffled by thick carpet approached the bed, and she felt the mattress dip slightly as a knee was placed on it in front of her. Then, the veil was ripped away, and Ukyo blinked in the sudden light.

“Tarou!” she gasped.

The Arun prince smiled down at her with bright malice in his eyes.

“Ahh, the sweet fruit, offered up on a platter,” he sneered. “Well, I’ll help myself.”

In his steel-blue threaded vest that caught the light and his loose, white, linen trousers, Tarou was Ukyo’s nightmare come true. He had obviously recovered from his ordeals. Had he reached his home, then?

After a split second of staring in disbelief and growing horror, Ukyo screamed, but Tarou clapped a hand to her lips before the sound could escape and pushed her.

Ukyo lost her balance and fell back onto the bed. Tarou followed her descent with his own body, trapping her between him and the sheets. Ukyo bucked with all her strength and shoved at him, but he didn’t budge. She cursed her heavy, elaborate clothing that trapped her as effectively as Tarou did.

She got a hand free and punched him in the ear. He gave a pained shout and fell back. She pushed him to the side and crawled to the edge of the bed on her hands and knees, her long, loose hair falling around her face and shoulders.

Tarou sat up and grabbing her slim ankle, yanked her back along the bed towards him. Ukyo screamed and desperately grabbed the wooden edge of the bed with both hands. Her bracelets jangled loudly. Tarou lost his grip for a moment and Ukyo scrambled off the bed and onto the thick Persian carpeted floor.

There was no time to stand up. She struggled on hands and knees towards the window. It was the closest exit. A hand clamped around her ankle again and she was dragged backwards.

“No! Nooooo!” Ukyo screamed. She twisted her body to see Tarou, his body half off the bed, grabbing the hem of her skirt with his other hand and begin to pull.

“Screaming will do you no good, Ukyo,” Tarou growled. “Everyone who hears will only laugh at the pleasure they think we’re sharing.” He began to pull her in, both hands gripping fistfuls of her skirt.

Ukyo braced her hands against the carpet and yanked. There was a loud tearing sound and abruptly she was free. She shot to her feet and ran for the window.

The damn thing was locked. She pulled her hand back to punch the glass but two muscular bracered arms encircled around her waist and lifted her off her feet. She allowed the movement to swing her up and she pushed off from the wall with both feet, but they were too far from the wall for her to push him off balance.

She drove an elbow backwards into Tarou’s gut. The power of the blow made him bend over, but he straightened and secured her arms. She tried to drive her foot into his kneecap, but what remained of her voluminous, thrice- cursed skirts got in the way, tangling her legs.

Oh, why hadn’t she held on to a few of her spatulas!

Tarou swore with his remaining breath. Winding Ukyo’s long, silky hair around his fist, he yanked her head backwards, arching the pale column of her throat against his shoulder.

“Listen to me, Ukyo,” he whispered in her ear. “You can’t hope to beat me, no matter how desperate you are. I am avenging my sister’s honor.”

He studied her wide eyes and harsh, open-mouthed breathing. “I am going to ruin you and leave you here as a little present for your brother!”

Ukyo licked her lips. “Tarou...Ravishing me isn’t going to help your sister! Why don’t you just fight Iori?”

Tarou released Ukyo’s hair. “An eye for an eye, Ukyo. It’s a simple principle.”

He pulled a silk scarf from his vest and used it to tie Ukyo’s wrists tightly together. Picking her up, he walked back to the bed and tossed her onto it. She fell onto the sheets in a flurry of maroon and gold skirts. Removing another scarf, he pulled her wrists overhead and secured them to the thick wooden headboard.

Ukyo tugged at the bonds but they were unbreakable. Tarou settled himself down the length of her body, allowing his weight to keep captive the rest of her. Her skirts spread out around them, the small jewels on them winking endlessly with every movement.

Ukyo stared up into Tarou’s eyes, jerking when he clamped a hand on her breast. She hated him. She knew when something looked inevitable and she wanted to be brave, to spit on him in fury, but being touched so intimately shocked the lady within her, and unwillingly, tears came to her eyes.

“Please, don’t,” she whispered, turning her face away.

Tarou was startled. His resolve wavered for a moment, and then he scowled. This is how my sister must have begged, he thought grimly. Little Kodachi...

“Where’s your pride as a warrior, Ukyo?” he mocked the bound princess. “How can you, a grown woman, bear to plead like a little girl?”

Ukyo’s back stiffened and the glance she leveled at Tarou from under her eyelashes gleamed with tears of rage and humiliation.

“You don’t know anything, you monster!” She cried. “What does a ravisher of women know about bravery? You’re so strong you had to tie up a girl! I’m sure my brother never had that problem!” As soon as Ukyo uttered the words, she wished she could take them back. Tarou’s sister had been truly innocent, and Ukyo despised Iori for forcing himself on the younger girl.

She gasped. “I didn’t mean...!”

Tarou’s eyes narrowed. “Like brother, like sister. You both don’t see anything wrong with preying on the weak!” He pulled out a knife and began to cut through her clothing.

“And here I was almost starting to feel bad about this,” he laughed.

Ukyo closed her eyes. She wouldn’t cry or scream any longer. It was the only way she could keep any dignity. She opened her eyes to glare at him with fury, but Tarou only smiled and pulled off the sliced sections of her vest. Underneath, she wore only a thin chemise. He tore it off with ease. Ukyo closed her eyes as she felt his gaze move across her bared breasts. Gold chains encircled her neck. A large ruby lay in the valley of her breasts, fiery in the lamplight.

“Where’s Tsubasa?” Ukyo asked suddenly. Tarou looked up.

“He’s dead,” he said shortly. “For hurting my sister. Don’t worry, at least you’re not committing adultery.”

Hurting? Not killing?

“So she’s not...dead?” asked Ukyo.

Tarou stared at her for a second.

“No.” Ukyo felt her body loosen slightly in relief. “That’s why I’m going to show you mercy, Ukyo. Else you too would be lying here with a knife in you.”

“How do you know that I’m a warrior?” she asked.

“You move like one. Anyone who was really trained would know.” Tarou leaned closer. “I know your face, too, remember?” He ripped off her skirt, the gauzy material tearing easily in his hands.

Ukyo lay naked beneath him. Suddenly she realized that this was how she’d expected it to be with Tsubasa. Rape. She just couldn’t have given in to that toad willingly. Yet now she was his widow.

Tarou ran his hands down the length of her body, his callused hands eliciting shivers from her.

He glanced up at Ukyo. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he said.

Tbc…