26 June 2024
Trigger warning: Violence, assault, attempted sexual assault. Rape warning for future chapter.
The Wild Hunt:
Chapter 3
Chase. Fuck. Kill.
The Hunt moved as one, gathering like a darkening storm cloud above the unified realms. They were crossing over, and the worlds were letting them pass. Elation was bubbling in Kuon's chest, tinged with bloodlust. He rode far and fast in the midst of the gathered horde. All around him, denizens from every corner of Faerie roiled and jockeyed for position, first one rider and then another always vying to take the forward point. Frothing at the mouth, they roared as ecstasy overtook them. The Riders could feel the ritual propelling them forward like a charged battery priming an explosion.
Hunger overwhelmed them. For the participants of the Hunt, there was nothing else. They had no family or identity. They had no minds—only the singular urges they felt propelling them onwards. Princes and goblins hob-nobbed side-by-side, united as they were in a Ceremony so ancient none among could remember how it started. The Old Ones demanded the sacrifice and the Old Ones gave no explanation. The Fae never asked why. It wasn't in their nature to ask. All that mattered was that they fulfilled the sacrifice to the Ones who had made these worlds and lived beyond them. Fae and human alike, they all lived blithely, ignorant and under their power.
From within the storm, Kuon fought to keep his sanity. He had the sense that he was moving at great speed, of vast landscapes below him traversed in a blur. Summer, Winter, the lands beyond, beneath, and above—there was no hold on him anymore, nothing to slow him down or tell him no. The Hunt was everything—it was seductive and powerful and all-encompassing, and if it hadn't been for the thought of a pair of golden eyes, he would have gladly given into it. Perhaps some other time he would have been appalled at the urges within him—everything inside him wanted to fuck things, tear them apart and watch them bleed. What manner of god wanted this kind of sacrifice? Before the Hunt started, he'd reasoned it was the Old Ones' way of maintaining hierarchy in their worlds: the Old Ones above the Fae, the Fae above the humans. Now? He didn't know. The Hunt was pure id. Any other meaning was lost to him.
His disciplined, moral self—the one that lived in the human world, the one who Kyoko knew—would have asked why the Fae never fought against the Hunt. Surely they knew how unjust the Ceremony was. But he knew the answer to that question. The Fae never fought against the Hunt because the Fae recognized themselves in the Hunt's compulsions. Humans were lesser, expendable beings, and there was much amusement to be had in humanity's petty little sorrows and their pithy little joys. They made for excellent sport. They were so delicate. So easy to break. They were excellent fucks, too—how many young men and women had been spirited away to serve as pleasure slaves in the Fae courts? Kuu had outlawed the practice in the Summer Court, but Kuon knew how common it still was.
Living in their world had made him forget how fragile they were, and now…now, he was being forcibly reminded.
The Hunt sanctified their killing. Sanctified it, and amplified it. The Fae tortured humans out of boredom, but the Hunt demanded it. The Hunt wanted blood, wanted screams, wanted savagery, and it made its hunters want the same. He looked at the figures on the hill and was suffused with the desire to fuck them all to death. That's what he was there for. He was there to rut and kill, again and again until the sacrifice had been met properly and the Old Ones had claimed their surfeit of souls.
No wonder his father had told him he wouldn't understand.
Kill, his entire body was saying. He should come home from this hunt ready to kill his father, his father needed to be killed. Oh, his father had been weak, weak! to give this up. The Hunt made him powerful. It made him fast. It made him want to sacrifice the souls of the prey he could see, waiting from them like a harvest to be reaped on that night-forsaken hill.
His father was a soft King—weak, indecisive, ineffectual. Kuon gritted his teeth in frustration. Kuu should be made to cross the veil—Kuon would help him cross it with a spear through the heart if needed. Bloody images of his father's face crowded the eye of Kuon's mind. In each vision, he was standing over the King with his hands bloodied but triumphant. The images played themselves over and over on a loop. With some contempt, Kuon wondered if the reason why Kuu had betrothed him to the Winter Princess was yet another show of his father's weakness. A truly valiant King would never have sold his first-born son in lieu of fighting battles. A true King would have fought Winter on the open field—would have made the rivers run red with their blood. A true King like him. Kuon should take matters into his own hands. It was time, wasn't it? Wasn't he a grown man? Why would he wait for his father to cross the Veil on his own? Kuon was more than capable of crushing his father's skull between his two hands—
NO! he told himself. He hadn't even been aware how the Hunt had infiltrated his thoughts. To think of his father in this way—to consider not just regicide but patricide—was something he could not countenance. Kuon knew exactly why he'd been betrothed to the Winter Princess, and he could not fault his father for doing so. If not for Kyoko, he would be thoroughly resigned—perhaps even looking forward—to that marriage.
He rode with the other Riders, fighting hard against the murderous drive moving them forward. To his right and to his left, he could see no semblance of compassion—or even reason—in the companions he rode with. Everyone but him was riding with a single-minded purpose, moving towards the figures on the hill. Somewhere in front of him was Reino, distinguished from the rest of the field by his distinctive silver hair. It marked him as the Winter Prince, just as Kuon was marked as Summer's with his blaze of gold. Kuon watched his figure with narrowed eyes, finding that the Hunt's hold on him lessened as he did. How had Reino known about Kyoko? And known about her before his parents, no less. How was he going to find his intended victim that night?
Kuon grit his teeth in frustration, bending over his winged mount and surveying the field below. They were almost to the hill. He could sense the excitement of the riders all around him, a rising pitch in the tension. Around him the riders gave a wild whoop. Ululations filled the night sky and as they descended upon the plain, he could see the white-robed figures scatter as they ran.
Not fast enough, though. Kuon saw the first kill—a single girl in a white robe of some kind, limbs ripped off of her in the blink of an eye. An answering wave of bloodlust tore through him, and for a second he almost grabbed another robed figure before recalling himself and who he was on the killing field. He would not do this. He had told himself he would not do this. He knew what he needed to do tonight, and though his sins would be heavy, he would let no harm come to her. Kyoko, where are you? he asked himself. It would be impossible to find her, a single girl in the field of white figures. How could he guarantee her safety? How could he get to her first?
The moon was rising higher in the sky. Every human scream he heard through his preternatural hearing chilled his blood and excited him at the same time. His mind teetered at a precipice—any lapse in his concentration and he would lose himself. He thought of Kyoko and clung to the memory of her smile—anything to keep the frenzy at bay. He pushed his mount faster. If he couldn't find her, both of their futures were in jeopardy.
He closed his eyes, trying to listen for her. Trying to find her in the only way he knew how. In the human world, their bond was an invisible, pale thing. He could hear it, feel it as a constant goad. But he knew humans didn't feel these bonds in the same way. He was sure she had some feeling, knew that she must, somewhere deep inside her, know who he was. She called him Corn, and he'd kissed her in Guam—he'd pretended to be Ren Tsuruga again immediately afterwards, but he could see the question in her eyes that she refused to acknowledge. Here in Fae, the Bond was far more tangible. Even if she had no magic, she would feel it. Perhaps not in the torturous way that he did, but she must feel it. As if in response, he felt the Bond around his wrist tighten and itch, pulling him forward. Pulling him… away. He found himself resisting the pull of the Hunt at its zenith, and he honed in on what was drawing him. He thought of her—the smell of her hair, her blush in the elevator, the way she smiled. The sound of her voice—her humor and her determination and yes, even her temper. Kyoko-who-he-loved was stronger than any magical compulsion bringing him over to the Hunt, and if his mother had recollected the legend she'd told him correctly, he and Kyoko might yet see the dawn together.
He steered his mount by instinct, ignoring everything else around him. He saw that he was headed into the dark woods beyond the fields. The woods were a no-man's land, forming a neutral territory between Winter and Summer, separating out the lands of the Dwarves and the Elves above and below the Courts. Brave girl, he thought. Smart girl. Of course she was. He was proud of her. She must have sensed her danger and taken cover. Whether that was from their Bond or her own innate ability, she'd known. And because none of the other humans had run with her, the rest of the Hunt hadn't noticed. She was running—he could tell from the distance that increased between them. Part of him whooped in relief—if she was running, she was still alive. And she was far, relatively, from the killing fields and the slaughter below.
He hurried, speeding straight towards her. Her spirit was a burning brand in the dark forest. She was headed straight for the river which marked the midpoint between Summer and Winter lands, but she was headed towards Winter, and he could not allow her to get much further towards Reino's domain. And when he did find her, Kuon needed to explain—they didn't have much choice going forward. He knew she wouldn't be ready, but the alternative would be death.
He felt her cross the river—their bond shivered and was taut—he could feel her again, feel her stronger than ever before. She was cold now, and aching, she was afraid. He could almost hear the beating of her heart as she ran further and further into the forest and then—
Oh gods.
Her fear was a tangible thing. Horror. Panic—and the dizzying spike of her adrenaline as she redoubled her efforts to run.
Kuon felt all of this through the bond—and with a sinking feeling, realized: Reino had found her.
Rage.
The Hunt rose up in him like a siren song. Its compulsion fought with the call of the Bond, but he found both forces propelling him onwards. She was his soulmate, but she was also his prey—against both of these forces, he was powerless. He broke faster towards the Winter woods, watching the leagues roll past underneath him. His mount flew into the dark and he followed their bond as it wound through the trees—he could almost smell her fear—
There was a flash of—what was it? Hope? And he knew then that she'd managed to get away—had managed to hurt Reino. He bit back a cry of jubilation as he felt her begin to run again—how was she so fast?
And then… and then she was below him screaming as Reino caught her again. He saw her on the ground, the remains of her robe tattered, her body exposed to the skies. He could see her arch backwards as she fought against her captor, exposing her delicate neck and the pale marble of her breasts catching the moonlight.
He bit back the sudden stab of lust at the sight of it. He needed to.
Reino's hand was already around her throat.
=.=.=
Kyoko ran as fast as she could, barefoot and wet through the darkened forest. Branches, briars, rocks—she paid none of it any attention. She couldn't afford to be careful. She needed to get away as quickly as possible from him.
She ran hard, even if she had a sinking feeling in her heart telling her that escape was impossible. Whatever magic had brought her to this place would surely see her taken on the killing field, just as like the others she'd seen on the plain. She was prey. That's what Reino had said. She was prey and there were rules—some kind of Compact and some kind of Ceremony. It was the kind of thing ancient legends whispered about—the kind of thing her beloved fairy tales never mentioned.
For a second, she considered finding a cliff and jumping off of it—it would be better, no doubt, than the long torture Reino had in mind. She thought of his hands on her and shivered. He'd made it very clear what kind of torture she'd be subject to. Even in Karuizawa, she'd known what he wanted.
"I'm commmiiiing," she heard, and she nearly wept in despair. He was just behind her. She could feel his fingertips grab at the trailing edge of her robe.
"Are you ready, little girl?"
"Never…" she wheezed, and then he landed before her, crouched. Moonlight glinted off his bared teeth—had they always looked so sharp?
She fell backwards and scrambled on the ground. She knew, now, that he was merely toying with her. He'd been surprised when she'd kicked him, but he'd allowed her to run. Desperately, her hands searched for something, anything, to use as a weapon. It was too bad she'd lost that makeshift quarterstaff, but perhaps she could blind him with a fistful of dirt. Could she hit him with a rock? A twig!? A twig was nothing, but maybe—
She screamed as he lunged and trapped her beneath him. She kicked and flailed but he was ready for her—he forced her legs open as he pinned her down.
"Did you think you could run from the Hunt?" he asked.
She turned her face away as his tongue licked from the base of her neck and upwards. "So ripe," he said. "So ready—"
His hand roved over her body before settling around her throat. Another hand was undoing his clothing. She could feel his breath on her skin and she scrunched her eyes shut as he ground against her. He was already hard. She twisted and bucked beneath him, unwilling to lie still, screaming at the top of her lungs as if—as if—
As if someone would hear.
As if Corn would hear.
But no.
Corn wasn't here. Ren wasn't here. She was all alone, here in this godforsaken forest.
No one would rescue her.
She refused to go down without a fight. If she was to be sacrificed like this—if she was to be tortured, then the least she could do was to draw some blood for herself. She was strong. She was capable. Her stunts had been for show, but the training Uesugi-san had given her was real. Her vision was darkening, but she realized, gleefully, that Reino had made the mistake of leaving her hand free. The world moved in slow-motion—
"Reino-kun," she said, as sweetly as she could through his choking grip.
He looked down at her in surprise and then screamed as she drove the twig through his eye.
His blood rained down on her.
She gasped and choked as his hand released her throat.
Ah, she thought, his blood is red too.
=.=.=
Kuon heard Reino's scream as he landed in the clearing; one breath later, he'd flung the Winter Prince off of Kyoko.
She recoiled from him in renewed terror, not recognizing him immediately. She was covered in blood, choking and breathing in gasps of air as Reino's hand released her throat. She scrambled to her feet, her eyes wide.
"Get behind me," he said. "No time to explain—I'll keep you safe—"
She was conflicted, her terror not abating. She was poised like a bird about to take flight, but she knew she could not fly far. This man—this man who looked like Corn—like Tsuruga-san, had saved her. But for what? Would he sacrifice her? He was dressed like them, riding a mount just like theirs. He had Tsuruga-san's form and face, but who was he, really? Could she trust him? If she ran, would he follow? He said he was there to rescue her, but there was a darkness in him. A hunger. She'd felt it in Reino, first, but here it was again, in Tsuruga-san's eyes.
She shivered as his eyes roved up and down her naked body, and she moved to cover herself. Tsuruga-san had never looked at her like that, and it terrified her. She wanted to run into his arms and sob, but she knew better. No, she thought to herself. You *aren't* safe, Kyoko.
"It's me," he said. He saw her hesitating. He could feel her mistrust and he couldn't blame her. Something in her knew. The Hunt was in his ears, telling him she was his prey. Could she hear it too?
"Corn?" she whispered. And then a flash of anger strengthened her. "No. You are Tsuruga-san. It's always been you, hasn't it?" She took a step backwards, slowly.
"Don't run," he said. "It's not safe. We're on Winter's land, and there are other Hunters out there. Reino will heal soon." He held her eyes with his own.
She stepped backwards and he followed, step by step, as if they were dancing. And then she laughed. Desperate and deranged, the sound of it echoed through the trees. It was absurd, really. Her head whipped backwards to watch Reino, still writhing and screaming. The twig was still gruesomely entrenched where his eye had been. She didn't know what he meant by Winter, and she didn't know how Reino could heal quickly from what she'd done. But she'd just watched a host of other humans torn apart limb-from-limb. Her clothes had been torn from her. She'd been chased into a forest by a rapist—a monster. She had a feeling that the man who'd just confessed to her was just as bad, but now he had the temerity to tell her "it's not safe out there"?!
"Why should I trust you?" she asked. "Corn or Tsuruga or whoever you are?"
"It's Kuon," he said, and her eyes widened. "My real name."
She had no time to consider the implications of his revelation. Again, she took another step back, finding herself trapped against a tree.
He stopped in front of her, blocking her path to the open forest. "And you need to trust me," he said flatly. "Because you have no choice."
Kyoko clenched her fists, trying to stop her trembling.
Kuon found himself pleased at Kyoko's ferocity. She was so brave, fighting against nearly certain death. She'd eluded a full-blooded Prince of the Winter Court with nothing but a stick and her quick wits.
Gods…he was intoxicated by the smell of her flesh. She would be delicious when he finally claimed her—he could almost feel how tight her body would be against him—
No. He was better than that. He was not Reino. He knew the difference between right and wrong. He knew the difference between the Hunt's call and his true self. I am Kuon Hizuri of the Summer Court, he told himself, and I am Ren Tsuruga who Kyoko loves.
"I never meant to lie to you," he said softly.
She looked up at the sound of his voice. She was bewildered and confused, angry and afraid. But for the first time tonight, he sounded like her Tsuruga-san. The real Tsuruga, who napped in lounges with his sheep pillow in a world far, far away from this one. "What is this, then? Did you bring me here?" she asked. Her voice quavered, whether from rage or fear she no longer knew.
"I did not."
"Then why?"
"The Compact," he said, "and your destiny. You were chosen to be prey."
Kyoko gave a start—what did he mean?!
Just then the cold glint of a sword forced Kuon to counter with his own. Reino grinned at the two of them, a gruesome rictus on his face. "Sorry, Kyoko-chan," he said. "I'm afraid that wasn't enough to kill me."
"Reino," Kuon hissed. He attacked as Reino tried to lunge past him to Kyoko. "Stay behind me," he called out to her.
The Winter Prince fell back and away from the arc of Kuon's sword. "Ah-ah," Reino mocked. "Are you interfering with my Hunt, Prince? She's mine." There was a void where his left eye had been, but Kuon could already see the flesh knitting back together.
"She is mine," Kuon gritted out. He kept up a barrage of attacks, pushing Reino back against the trees. The Hunt sang in him, maddening him with a possessiveness he hadn't thought possible. He thought of Kyoko's torn robe, the sight of her bare body. The idea of Reino touching what was his enraged him. "Mine."
"Yours?" Reino was laughing. Kuon had had him on the defensive since he'd arrived, but he was on Winter territory. The land itself protected and nourished him. So long as he stayed on it, he would heal quickly—far more quickly than through a spell or potion. "Yours and still a virgin, Summer Prince?" he mocked. "Seems to me that this tasty little morsel is ripe for anyone to claim—"
"Die," Kuon gritted out, raising his sword overhead and driving it downwards for a direct strike.
But Reino countered. Kuon's sword hit nothing but a wall of thick ice, rising suddenly from the ground. Kuon sprang back just in time as the wall broke to make way for Reino's own attack.
Kuon raised a hand to shield his eyes from the glinting shards.
"Did you forget how to fight, Summer?" Reino laughed. "All that time in the human world and you've forgotten how to be Fae. You're fighting like this is some stage play—or perhaps you've lost your magic?"
With a flourish, shards of ice formed in mid-air, raining down on Kuon and Kyoko. She yelled as their blade-like edges broke her skin.
"Do you think you can fight me here? On Winter's ground?" Reino sliced through the ice with his sword but was met, again, by Kuon's parry. "Here, when you've forgotten how to use magic—just as you've forgotten your duty to the Old Ones." Reino's attack was relentless as he called forth blade after blade of ice. "The girl must be sacrificed," he said. "And I shall enjoy every single one of her screams."
"No," Kuon said. He held his ground. He remembered what his mother had said—that the Hunt could be twisted according to a Hunter's desire, if the Hunter was strong-willed enough. Humans were the chosen prey, but once upon a time, prey had been any being with a soul. Because the Old Ones did not care what kind of soul was sacrificed to them, so long as the quota was met. The Hunt was more powerful than the Summer and the Winter combined, and that its magic came from a place beyond. Its magic would tilt the balance between the two Courts. With it, he could break Reino even in the heart of Winter's power.
Silently, he reached out to the madness still inside him. The Hunt roiled and raged, a mass of many minds under a single compulsion. He drew power from it, gave into it, let it subsume all his reason as he stopped fighting the urge to kill, kill, kill.
The power settled inside him. He was nearly unrecognizable, his eyes glinting with unnatural light.
Reino hesitated, a hint of fear creeping into his eyes.
Kuon grinned.
Prey. Reino was prey, and the Hunt knew it.
He would fulfill his part of the Compact by sacrificing the soul of the Winter Prince in place of Kyoko's.
Kuon's hand tightened on the grip of his sword. He felt power surge through him and the ice evaporated under his blast of fire, forcing Reino back with its unanticipated strength. "Who says I've forgotten how to use magic?" Kuon asked. Another blast immolated Reino, whose hasty ice shield evaporated into mist.
Reino reeled and stumbled but stayed upright, but Kuon would have none of it. His sword flashed; Reino gave a great cry as it split open his side.
"Have you read the Compact, Reino?" he asked "What the Old Ones truly asked of us?"
Reino stumbled and turned, searching for a path to escape.
Pathetic, Kuon thought. Just like a human.
Kuon advanced towards him relentlessly. "The Old Ones want souls, Reino," Kuon told him. "And though they give us human souls to harvest, they find ours just as palatable."
Reino screamed again as Kuon sliced off one hand and then the other. He did it nonchalantly, almost lazily. The Winter Prince would be as helpless as one of the human sacrifices like this. He could not hold a sword. He could not wield magic.
The Winter Prince abandoned his dignity and ran.
"A soul for a soul, Winter," Kuon called out. He was standing still, watching Reino's desperate run.
Kuon let him run for a hundred yards and then gave chase.
Reino stumbled and fell to his knees as Kuon lifted him up by his hair.
Helplessly, he writhed against Kuon's grip.
Kill.
Kuon could nearly taste the metallic tang of his blood.
Kill.
"No," Reino cried.
Kill.
Kuon twisted his skull by the neck, feeling Reino's body go limp as the bones of his vertebrae cracked. With a roar he tore the Winter Prince's head off of his body and held it up to the sky.
Blood dripped from shards of bone.
His trophy.
"The Compact is fulfilled," he said.
Behind him, Kyoko looked on in horror.
=.=.=.=.=
1. Yeah this entire thing is deranged.
2. No, I did not proofread.
3. Not my best work but whatever. It's been…what, like two years?
4. Smut next chapter.
5. Grudge, this is for you.
6. THANK YOU, YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE, for keeping me from chickening out.