Chapter 18: The Center
The carriage jolted slightly as the repaired wheel hit an uneven patch of dirt road, but the journey was once again underway. The rhythmic sound of hooves against the ground filled the otherwise quiet space between Ranma and Akane. She sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes fixed out the window, though her thoughts seemed elsewhere.
Ranma glanced at her now and then, uncertain of how to break the lingering tension from their earlier conversation. His own mind was preoccupied with Taro. The man's behavior was unacceptable, and Ranma knew he couldn't let it slide.
What should I do about him? Ranma thought, leaning his head back against the cushioned seat. I've let him get away with too much already. Maybe it's because I hate pulling rank. It always feels... wrong. Like I'm trying to be someone I'm not.
Ranma had never felt comfortable in the role of a prince. Being a leader required authority, decisiveness, and the kind of temperament that commanded respect. He couldn't help but feel like he fell short. Sure, he could fight and strategize, but dealing with people—especially those who served him—always left him second-guessing himself.
Taro crossed a line, though. This isn't just about me. He disrespected Akane. If I don't act, he'll think he can do it again. And worse, so will everyone else.
The thought made his jaw tighten. He'd have to report Taro to his father, but what punishment would be fitting? Stripping him of his position seemed appropriate, but his father seemed to favor Taro. Maybe a demotion to a lesser role, something that would remind Taro of his place.
The carriage turned a bend, and the scenery shifted. Rolling hills gave way to a sprawling valley, where the centerpiece was an astonishing sight: a towering castle that shimmered like it was made of green glass.
Akane gasped softly, leaning closer to the window. "Is that… The Goddess's castle?" she whispered, her voice tinged with awe.
Ranma followed her gaze and nodded. "Yeah. That's it."
The castle seemed almost otherworldly, its translucent walls catching the sunlight and scattering it in a kaleidoscope of colors. Surrounding it were lush gardens filled with trees and flowers in shades Akane had never seen before. A winding river sparkled as it wove through the landscape, feeding into a pristine lake near the castle's base.
"It's beautiful," Akane murmured, her earlier tension momentarily forgotten.
Ranma watched her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. She looked so captivated, her eyes wide with wonder. She really is something else, he thought before catching himself and looking away.
The carriage slowed as they approached the gates of The Center. The gates themselves were made of intricate metalwork, depicting scenes of the Dragon Gods and mortals intertwined. A group of servants dressed in flowing white robes waited to greet them, their demeanor calm and graceful.
As the carriage came to a stop, one of the servants stepped forward and opened the door. "Welcome, Prince Ranma and Princess Akane. We've been expecting you," she said with a polite bow.
Ranma stepped out first, offering a hand to Akane. She hesitated for a moment but took it, stepping down onto the cobblestone path. The servants moved efficiently, gathering their luggage and leading the way.
"You'll be staying in one of our private villas," the servant explained as they walked. "It's situated near the gardens, with a view of the lake. The Goddess will summon you, after the wedding celebrations, when she is ready to meet."
The villa was a charming structure nestled among flowering trees. Its design mirrored the castle's ethereal aesthetic, with walls that seemed to shimmer faintly in the light. Inside, it was spacious yet cozy, with polished wooden floors, soft furnishings, and large windows that offered stunning views of the gardens.
As the servants set down their belongings and quietly exited, Akane wandered over to one of the windows, taking in the scenery. Ranma stood near the entrance, his thoughts drifting back to Taro.
Maybe I've been too soft because I don't want to turn into my father, Ranma thought, his hand unconsciously curling into a fist. But this isn't about me anymore. I have to make sure Akane feels safe. If I can't even handle my own guards, what kind of king will I be?
Akane's voice broke through his thoughts. "It's so peaceful here," she said, her tone wistful.
Ranma looked over at her and felt a pang of guilt. He wanted her to feel at ease, not burdened by his guard's despicable behavior. "Yeah," he said, his voice softer now. "Let's hope it stays that way."
As Ranma watched her standing there, framed by the golden light streaming through the window, an unfamiliar yet unmistakable feeling gnawed at him—a possessive ache that refused to be ignored. It wasn't jealousy in the typical sense, but rather a restless, anxious fear of losing something he didn't fully understand but couldn't bear to let go of.
Every interaction with Akane felt fleeting, like holding water in his hands—no matter how tightly he tried to grasp it, it would slip through his fingers. It wasn't just her enigmatic expressions or the way she carefully chose her words; it was the distance he felt between them, one that seemed impervious to the fact they were supposed to share a lifetime together.
He was stunned at himself for kissing her just a few days ago. The memory lingered in his mind, vivid and electric, but it also felt... strange. She was his wife, yes, but their marriage didn't feel real. Their kisses had felt more like uncertain explorations between friends rather than the intimate connection of a married couple. And yet, the emotions they stirred in him were anything but casual.
A romantic longing was creeping into his thoughts, persistent and unrelenting, but it warred with his pride and confusion. What were his feelings for her, really? How much of this was genuine, and how much was influenced by the fact that they'd been forced into this arrangement? He hated that he couldn't untangle the two.
But what truly unsettled him was how little he understood her feelings. Did she accept his kisses because she wanted to? Or was she merely playing the part of the dutiful princess, burdened by the expectations of their roles and the suffocating comments from people like Taro? Was her kindness genuine, or was it born of obligation?
Ranma's chest tightened at the thought. If she was merely doing her duty, then every touch, every moment they'd shared, would feel hollow—a performance rather than something real. Yet, when he thought of the way she'd looked at him during those moments, he couldn't believe it was entirely an act.
The truth, though, was undeniable, even if he struggled to admit it. He wanted her attention. He wanted to be the one she smiled at, the one she looked to for comfort or companionship. He wanted her to choose him, not because of duty or expectation, but because she wanted him too.
As he stood there, watching her in the soft glow of the evening light, Ranma realized something that both terrified and exhilarated him: he didn't just want their marriage to work. He wanted more than that.
The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a warm twilight glow over the villa. A pair of servants opened the ornate double doors to reveal a cozy dining room. The space was intimate, with a low-burning chandelier casting golden light onto a beautifully set table adorned with delicate plates and crystalline glasses. The furniture was elegant but unpretentious—clearly designed for comfort rather than grandeur.
"This is your dining room for the duration of your stay," one servant said with a polite bow. "Dinner will be brought shortly."
Akane stepped into the room, her eyes lingering on the serene decor. "It's beautiful," she murmured, running her fingers over the polished wood of one of the chairs.
Ranma followed, his gaze sweeping over the space. "Cozy," he said simply, though he appreciated the tranquility of the setting. It felt far removed from the opulent halls of his family's palace.
Moments later, a procession of servants entered, carrying trays covered with intricately designed domes. With a flourish, they revealed the dishes, each one more stunning and unfamiliar than the last.
Akane's eyes widened as she took in the array of food before her. There was a salad made of vibrant green leaves she didn't recognize, sprinkled with edible flowers in shades of violet and gold. A steaming bowl of what looked like soup had an iridescent sheen to it, the liquid shifting colors as the light hit it. Plates of perfectly cooked fish were arranged in a spiral pattern, their surfaces dusted with something glittering—perhaps a rare spice.
"What… is all this?" Akane asked, her voice a mix of awe and hesitation.
"These are traditional dishes from The Center," the lead servant explained. "The greens are harvested from the floating gardens, and the soup is made with luminara root, which grows only in the heart of the valley. The fish is seasoned with a special amber salt found in the rivers here."
Akane looked at Ranma, who gave her a small shrug, clearly as out of his element as she was. He had rarely been to The Center himself and couldn't remember the last time he had dined here.
Akane hesitated before taking a bite of the salad. The moment the flavors hit her tongue, her eyes lit up. "It's… sweet, but also earthy. And the flowers taste almost like honey."
Ranma watched her reaction before trying a piece of the fish. The delicate seasoning melted on his tongue, and he gave an appreciative nod. "Okay, that's actually really good."
Encouraged by his response, Akane ventured to taste the soup. Its warmth spread through her, and the shifting flavors reminded her of a sunrise—bright and comforting. "This is incredible. I've never tasted anything like it."
Ranma smirked. "You're acting like you've never had fancy food before."
Akane gave him a pointed look. "I haven't. Not like this, anyway."
The moment grew quiet as they ate, savoring the meal. Akane couldn't help but marvel at the experience. It wasn't just the food; it was the thoughtfulness of the preparation, the care in the presentation, and the fact that she was sitting here, in a villa that felt worlds away from the life she'd known prior to becoming a royal.
Ranma, too, found himself relaxing. The earlier tension from the day before seemed to fade, replaced by a comfortable silence punctuated only by the occasional clink of cutlery. As he glanced at Akane, her face lit by the warm glow of the chandelier, he felt an unfamiliar sense of contentment.
"I could get used to this," he said, half-joking, as he reached for another piece of fish.
Akane gave him a small smile, her earlier hesitation softening. "Me too," she admitted quietly, though she wasn't sure if she was talking about the food, the villa, or something else entirely.
While Akane sat across from Ranma at the dining table, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her wine glass - her thoughts were beginning to spiral. The warm glow of the room's lanterns played across the polished wood, and the faint clinking of utensils echoed softly as Ranma worked on his dessert. She couldn't help but watch him, her thoughts spinning despite herself.
The servants had just brought out a beautifully arranged platter of sweets—delicate pastries filled with spiced creams and fruits Akane had never seen before. She nibbled on a small tart, but her attention was drawn to Ranma. He was eating with an unguarded ease, savoring the desserts in a way that seemed so… normal. The sight of him like this, stripped of the usual tension and arrogance, made her heart flutter in a way she wasn't ready to acknowledge.
His jawline, sharp and defined, shifted slightly as he chewed. His hair, slightly disheveled from the day's events, framed his face in a way that made him seem almost too perfect. Akane caught herself staring and quickly looked down at her plate, heat rising to her cheeks.
What am I doing? she scolded herself.
Her thoughts strayed back to Taro's words earlier that day. "Give Prince Ranma an heir." The command still echoed in her mind, laced with implications she couldn't unravel. Why would King Gosunkugi care about that? He knew she wasn't the real princess. Did he plan to use her for some scheme that would only end in disaster? The uncertainty gnawed at her, amplifying the guilt she already carried.
And yet, her gaze drifted back to Ranma. The wine's subtle warmth seemed to lower her defenses, and she found herself imagining—just for a moment—what it would be like if she wasn't pretending. If she really was the princess, with no secrets between them.
Her heart skipped a beat as she noticed the way his eyes flicked up to meet hers. For a second, she thought he might say something, but he only gave her a small, almost shy smile before returning his attention to his dessert. The gesture was so genuine, so unlike the cocky prince she'd first met, that it made her chest tighten.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad… The thought whispered through her mind, unbidden. He was her husband, for now at least. And he wasn't just attractive—he was kind, in his own awkward way. The memory of his earlier attempts to comfort her flitted through her mind, and her cheeks grew warmer.
But the guilt surged again, sharp and unrelenting. How could she even think about giving in to these feelings when her entire presence here was a lie? Ranma deserved honesty, and she couldn't give him that. She hated how often her thoughts returned here…right back to the fact that it shouldn't be her sitting across from him at this dining table. None of this extravagance or kind gestures were for her. But, her imagination kept warming up to the idea of Ranma being hers. Am I falling in love with him?!
She poked at the pastry on her plate, her appetite waning under the weight of her swirling emotions.
"Hey," Ranma's voice broke the silence, and she looked up, startled. He was leaning forward slightly, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "You okay? You've barely touched your dessert."
"I'm fine," she said quickly, forcing a smile. "Just… tired."
He studied her for a moment longer before nodding, though his brow remained furrowed. "If you say so."
As he leaned back in his chair, Akane's thoughts churned. The guilt, the attraction, the confusion—it was all too much. She forced herself to focus on the dessert, hoping that the sweetness might distract her from the storm inside her.
But even as she ate, her gaze kept straying back to Ranma. The way the light caught the soft angles of his face, the way his lips curved slightly as he tasted each bite—it was impossible not to notice.
And that, she realized with a sinking heart, she had found herself in a new kind of danger. Not the kind from Taro, not King Gosunkugi's schemes, not even her deception. This new danger was how much she was starting to care for him.
As the meal wound down, a servant approached with a polite bow. "Your Highnesses," she said softly, her voice carefully measured, "if you're ready, I can show you around the villa."
Ranma glanced at Akane, who nodded hesitantly. She still felt the lingering warmth of the wine in her veins, and her thoughts were tangled in a way that made her uneasy. Maybe focusing on something else—anything else—would help.
"Sure, lead the way," Ranma said, rising from his chair and adjusting his jacket.
The servant guided them out of the dining area, her steps quiet on the polished stone floors. "This villa is among the finest accommodations here at The Center," she explained as they moved through a spacious sitting room adorned with plush furniture and intricate tapestries. "It is reserved for distinguished guests, particularly couples of royal standing."
Akane felt her cheeks flush at the servant's pointed emphasis on "couples." She avoided looking at Ranma, certain her expression would betray her embarrassment.
The tour continued, showcasing a cozy reading room stocked with rare tomes, a private terrace overlooking a serene garden, and a luxurious bathing chamber with a marble tub large enough for two. The servant explained the amenities with practiced precision, though Akane couldn't shake the sense that the villa had been intentionally designed to encourage intimacy.
"And here," the servant said, stopping before a set of double doors carved with delicate floral motifs, "is your bedroom." She pushed the doors open, revealing a grand space bathed in soft, golden light.
Akane stepped inside, her breath catching. The room was nothing short of magnificent. A large, canopied bed with silk sheets and embroidered pillows dominated the center, its frame carved from dark, polished wood. The walls were adorned with subtle, glowing murals that shifted hues like a gentle sunrise, and a chandelier of cascading crystals cast shimmering patterns across the ceiling.
The servant gestured to the bed with a small smile. "This is the master bedroom, where you'll be staying. It has been specially prepared for your comfort. If you require anything further, please don't hesitate to call on us."
Akane stood frozen, her gaze locked on the bed. It was enormous, far larger than any bed she'd ever seen, and it was unmistakably designed for two.
Ranma cleared his throat awkwardly, his hands fidgeting at his sides. "Uh… thanks," he mumbled to the servant, his own discomfort palpable.
The servant nodded, her expression serene and unreadable. "I'll leave you to settle in. Please enjoy your stay, Your Highnesses." With that, she turned and exited, the door clicking softly shut behind her.
The silence that followed was deafening.
"So… this is… nice," Ranma said, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding Akane's eyes.
Akane forced a tight smile, her heart pounding. "Yes, very… nice."
They stood there awkwardly, both acutely aware of the bed looming between them. Akane's mind raced, the earlier wine making her thoughts harder to suppress. She couldn't help but imagine what the servants might be expecting of them.
Ranma, meanwhile, was grappling with his own thoughts. The room felt suffocatingly intimate, and he was suddenly hyper-aware of Akane's presence. He wanted to say something—anything—to break the tension, but his words tangled in his throat.
Finally, Akane cleared her throat. "I'll, um, get my things unpacked," she said quickly, moving toward the wardrobe on the far wall.
"Yeah, me too," Ranma said, stepping toward the opposite side of the room, as far from her as he could manage without making it obvious.
While they busied themselves with trivial tasks, neither could shake the awareness of the shared space—the shared bed—that awaited them. The villa was beautiful, but it also felt like a carefully constructed trap, one designed to force them into confronting the reality of their marriage.
As Ranma unpacked his belongings, he tried to focus on the task at hand—anything to distract himself from the overwhelming atmosphere of the villa. The room seemed to press in on him, every detail whispering intimacy. The soft glow of the murals, the lush silk sheets, the scent of lavender drifting from the bedding—all of it combined to make his thoughts spiral in a direction he wasn't prepared for.
He glanced over at Akane, who was neatly arranging her things in the wardrobe. Her back was to him, and her movements were precise, deliberate, as if she, too, was trying to keep her mind occupied. Her hair caught the golden light, and for a brief moment, Ranma's gaze lingered.
Then, unbidden, a memory surfaced—the bundle of delicate lace and satin lingerie Tsubasa had gifted Akane before their journey. In the quiet of the room, the image of Akane in something so… daring flashed across his mind.
Ranma's face burned as he quickly turned back to his bag, willing the thought away. What's wrong with me? he scolded himself, shoving a pair of boots into the corner of the wardrobe.
But the image wouldn't leave. He imagined her in soft, intricate fabric, the lace accentuating her curves, her skin glowing in the sunlight of the room. The thought of her standing there, so beautiful and confident, made his heart race. His hands froze mid-air as he realized just how vivid the image had become.
"Stupid," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as if to physically dislodge the thought. He glanced at Akane again, now bent slightly to place something on a lower shelf. He swallowed hard and turned away once more, feeling like the worst kind of idiot.
His thoughts churned, equal parts embarrassment and frustration. He knew he shouldn't be thinking about her like that—especially not when their relationship was still so unnamed. But the suffocating intimacy of the room, combined with the wine's lingering effects, made it impossible to ignore how drawn he was to her.
She wasn't just beautiful to him—she was fierce, determined, and utterly captivating in a way that made his heart thump painfully. And that scared him. He didn't want to admit how much she was starting to occupy his thoughts, how much he wanted her to see him as more than just the awkward prince she'd been forced to marry.
Ranma sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Get a grip," he muttered to himself, stuffing the last of his clothes into the wardrobe with unnecessary force. He needed to pull himself together.
"Did you say something?" Akane's voice broke through his thoughts, and he turned to see her looking at him curiously, a small crease between her brows.
"No! Uh, nothing," he said quickly, his ears turning red. "Just… talking to myself."
Akane raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. "Right," she said, turning back to her unpacking.
Ranma exhaled, relieved and yet still painfully aware of her presence. As much as he wanted to focus on anything else, the truth was unavoidable: sharing this space with Akane was going to be far more challenging than he'd anticipated.