DISCLAIMER: This author claims no ownership of SKIP BEAT! or its characters.

Warning: This fic will eventually be a pretty hard M-rating.

Takes place after immediately after the elevator confession.

The Wild Hunt:

Chapter 1

"We were supposed to have a lifetime," Kuon growled. "You swore."

Her lifetime, that is. All he'd bargained for was the chance to woo her while she lived—one human lifetime to chase bliss with his girl. And when she died, he'd sworn to live an eternity of unwavering, uncomplaining service as the future King of the Summer Court….wed to the fae woman his parents had chosen for him at birth.

They hadn't even given him the dignity of a Gate, choosing to Summon him without warning instead. And now that the King of the Summer Court had him, he couldn't even look his son in the eye. Kuu was pacing back and forth in Kuon's old tower chamber as his mother wrung her hands, weeping one moment and raging the next.

Why now, of all times? Just minutes ago, he'd confessed to the girl, chasing her up and down a building and then trapping her in an elevator before declaring himself. "I'm charging at my girl!" he'd declared, and she was looking at him, blushing, stunned, and tongue-tied as realization dawned in those amber-gold eyes. It had taken everything in him not to touch her skin right then—he hadn't warded himself, and to touch her unguarded would've been more than he could take. One day, he'd hoped to show his true self to her, but being torn from her like that had deprived him of the sweetest moment of his human life.

"Did you even stop to think that I could've been in public?" he asked. "Or that perhaps I might have been doing something important?" And what would Kyoko think, seeing him disappear in front of her eyes like that?

And for what? Empty Fae finery. He looked contemptuously at his rich surroundings. His chamber was restrained by all Fae sensibilities, but to Kuon it seemed garish. Did a chamber really need walls made of carved jade? He felt incongruous here, his glamour stripped off, still dressed in his fashionable Tokyo outfit.

"We had to call you back, son," Kuu said. "It was necessary. We wouldn't have done it unless we had to." He understood Kuon's anger.

Before his son had wandered into the human world, Kuu had hoped he would grow to love his betrothed. It was true that a political union needn't even be consummated, but Kuu knew there were many different kinds of love. He'd hoped future Kuon and Kimiko would find some way to grow in their marriage. But he hadn't counted on their son finding a True Love—and a human one, no less. The bond with this Kyoko-girl had been made in their childhood. Fate had intervened, there was no other reason for it. How else could they explain how Kuon managed to wander into the human world? They'd thought they'd had guards at all of the places where barriers were porous, but the mysterious place where Kuon had fallen through had been unknown, and had disappeared mysteriously. When he came back to Faerie, even the least powerful in the Court could see that a faint cord connected the young Prince to some unknown. Legends and stories told them what they already felt: the cord connected the Prince to his True Love. No one had seen a True Love bond in living memory, not even Kuu and Julienna, who were generally considered a model of marital bliss in royal Faerie circles.

Both Kuu and Julienna acknowledged the hand of destiny in the meeting, but they all knew from the start that Kuon could never make her his bride.

They'd made the mistake of betrothing him to a Princess of the Winter Court. Negotiations for the betrothal took place before the Prince had been born. With his first breath, he sealed the compact and a final peace was promised between the two Kingdoms. It was all done with the best of intentions in mind—a means of avoiding yet another eon of conflict between the two opposing realms ever at war with each other. To break the betrothal meant war—one that would result in the death of many Fae, who otherwise lived until they chose to cross the veil. To die in battle—in war—was a tragedy, a loss so deep Kuon could not bear it. Even for his true love, Kuon would not do that to his people.

If the legends were true, no good would come of opposing that bond, or trying to stop it.

Kuon tried to.

As he grew older, the pull on the bond grew more insistent. It was a gnawing, aching, itch of a thing, always at the edge of his mind, never satisfied. At first, Kuon tried to ignore it. And when he couldn't ignore it, he fought against himself, tamping down the pull to her with a million distractions. He knew as well as his parents did that he could never make her his queen—why, then, should he give any quarter to the bond he had? He'd trained in the arts of war, learned lore in the library. He told himself that he was Fae, and he was a Prince—and he was young and as yet unmarried, and licentiousness was not just tolerated, it was expected. Lover after lover crept to his chambers—sylphs, nymphs, dryads, naiads—he coupled with anyone who made eyes at him, but he never had them more than once.

He'd tried very hard to forget that he was bound in two opposite but equally compelling directions, but he knew who he belonged to. He knew who he belonged with. He would spend frantically inside a beautiful woman and feel as if he'd hurt his very soul in the act of pleasure. Every time he left a nymph satiated in some Summer bower, he felt as if he'd betrayed something sacred. He would be surrounded by revelers in a bacchanalia but feel utterly alone. Mine, that bond told him. You are mine. Eventually, he found that he couldn't bear anyone else's touch. He abandoned his pleasure dens, increasingly haunted by someone in another world. He couldn't see her, couldn't touch her, but he could feel her. Perhaps he didn't know the circumstances of her life, or who she was on the outside. But he knew her, nonetheless.

His parents watched this torture with worry in their eyes. That he was tearing himself apart was evident. They knew he had no choice. He'd stopped fighting, and now he was frantic. He knew he couldn't make her his Queen—and he couldn't break the oaths his father had made to the Winter King. But he couldn't ignore the bond, which by now felt like a red-hot iron on his skin. He'd begged for a reprieve. Fairies were immortal, weren't they? He'd argued the point and found a concession for himself. The marriage to the Winter Princess would be stayed for the duration of the human girl's lifetime. And during that lifetime, Kuon would be free to win her love while disguised as a human. She would be kept safe, protected as a ward of the Summer Court—though she'd likely never know.

And when the Prince's True Love finally died, he'd return to Faerie and fulfill his obligation to the Winter. And if his parents were worried about his ability to live beyond the loss of a True Love, they never told him. The legends had talked about that, too.

For both the Winter and Summer courts, this proposed delay to the alliance was a non-issue. Even if the human lived a hundred years, what was a hundred years to the Fae? Who cared if the princeling had a human lover? Human lovers were common enough in Faerie. They inevitably died, went mad, or sickened. The very few who lived on in Faerie alongside their lovers did so through a brutal ceremony that repulsed many—after all, it involved partitioning their Faerie nature and giving part of it to their human mate. That was the price of having your lover live on with you through time, and very, very few Fae loved their humans that much.

Such an option was closed to the Prince, what with his obligation hanging over his head. And so Kuon, feeling the incessant pull of that bond, exiled himself to the human world. He'd gone to work for the Takarada clan, who'd been retainers of the Summer Court for centuries uncounted. Kuon trusted that the bond would bring this girl to him. For her sake, Kuon had taken on a human persona—a dark-haired man he'd named Ren Tsuruga.

And now, mere months after he'd finally found her and confessed his love, he found himself back in Faerie.

If his father hadn't been the subject of his anger, Kuon might be pacing back and forth instead. He was worried—worried for Kyoko, who'd seen him disappear. Worried that she might have misunderstood him. She didn't know all he knew—she couldn't see their bond. Her human eyes were blind to what was so obvious to the Fae, but he thought he'd seen the very first spark of realization in her just moments ago. But time passed differently between Faerie and the human world—Kuon did not want to be in a position of leaving and then coming back a hundred years too late. He wanted to return to her as soon as possible.

"What is so important that you'd drag me back here?" he asked angrily.

His anger cooled somewhat when he saw the looks on his parents' faces. He saw fear in his father's eyes—and he could not recall ever having seen it there before. Fear was simply not an emotion the Summer King had occasion to feel very often. His mother's face was pale and drawn. Neither one of them moved forward to embrace him, or tease him, or offer him food.

"What?" Kuon asked. He was beginning to feel a little afraid, too. "What's happened?" He looked both of them in the eyes in turn. "What's wrong?

After a pause his father spoke. "The Wild Hunt has been called," Kuu said.

"The Wild Hunt?" Kuon asked. He'd heard of the Wild Hunt only in old songs. Was that the occasion for his father's fear? "Where the Fae get all dressed up and go around hunting small animals at night? What's that got to do with me?"

"The Hunt is not for small animals—"

"You don't understand, son," his mother interjected. "It has everything to do with you—"

But Kuu raised an open hand, silencing his son and his wife. "No Hunt has been called in thousands of years," his father said. "Even I am not old enough to remember the last Hunt.'"

Kuon felt a sliver of dread in his gut.

"The Hunt is as old as time," Kuu said. "The Fae do not control when it is called—only the Old Ones have that power, and our obligation is to serve them." He paused, looking at Kuon. The Hunt had been all but forgotten in some circles, but Kuu remembered stories from his grandfather. About how they'd ridden, quick as the wind and as powerful as a tidal wave, all in pursuit of the kill and the capture. The Hunt was primal, without reason—it reduced hunters to their basest, most primal urges. Kuu himself had heard tales that made his hair stand on end—the bloodlust of some, the sadism in others. Fairies eating human flesh after they'd had their sport.

Kuu held his son's gaze. Humans—particularly today's humans—had forgotten how they'd once been naked and afraid. The Hunt would remind them. But what to tell his son? "The Hunt," he said, "is the harvest of souls. Human souls, consumed in sacrifice to the Old Ones." He looked over at Kuon, who was staring at him intently.

Kuon felt his mouth go dry. "Harvest," he said. "Who does the reaping?"

Kuu remained silent.

"Dad?"

Kuu shook his head. "You know the answer to that," he responded.

We do, Kuon thought. We do the reaping.

"Many of the souls are reaped from those who are killed simply and easily. But some among us enjoy the sport of the kill," Kuus continued. "And some among us keep their prey for a few days. Sometimes they become amusements. Others, concubines. Very few survive beyond the first night, and no one survives past the third dawn."

Kuon was listening, his mouth set in a grim line. Living as a human gave him human sensibilities. "That sounds monstrous," he said.

"And yet it's necessary," Kuu continued. "As necessary as the changing of the seasons, as necessary as the solstice. The Wild Hunt is as necessary as Death, the Virgin, and Hades, son, because the Old Ones need their sacrifice. And whether you've forgotten it or not, we are predators, and humans are prey. That is what the Wild Hunt is for."

"It's horrific—"

Kuu shook his head, silencing the younger prince. He knew Kuon didn't understand—Kuu himself didn't understand, not really—all he had were his grandfather's tales before his grandfather had chosen to pass beyond the veil. That was how he knew that Kuon wouldn't understand what the Wild Hunt was—what the Wild Hunt did to someone—until the boy joined it himself. The Wild Hunt would bring all of his hunger to the fore—the hunters moved together and yet all alone as they sought their prey. "The humans are selected by the Oracles at the Well of Time," he said. "And they are always young men and women seventeen years of age. Humans just at the dawn of their adulthood. Virgins."

The dread in him was growing, uncoiling into poison. He looked silently at his parents, waiting for them to speak.

"Your Kyoko has been chosen by the Oracles as prey," Juli said.

Their son looked at them in stunned silence. "Prey?" Kuon asked, his voice low. "What kind of joke is this?"

"We summoned you back to warn you," Kuu said. "To make sure you joined the Hunt in time."

"Join the Hunt?" Kuon asked, enraged. "Why would I join the Hunt? Why wouldn't you pull her out of this? Isn't she under your protection!? Wasn't that the bargain!?"

"You don't understand," Kuu said. "Her being named as prey is as much her destiny as your love-bond. No one has the power to save one marked as prey by the Oracles—not from outside the Hunt, at least."

"But—"

Kuu silenced him with a glance. "And if you don't want her falling to the tender mercies of some other Hunter, you need to go out and get her yourself."

"What—what are you talking about, Father?" Kuon asked. He knew and yet he didn't want to know what his father was telling him.

"She will be prey on an open killing field," Juli interjected. Both sets of emerald-green eyes turned to look at her. "You can save her. You'll have to claim her first."

"Julienna, the Compact—!"

But his mother ignored her husband and kept speaking. "—You can save her, but only if you are strong. Strong enough not to let the Hunt win."

Horror overtook him. "What do you mean, 'let the Hunt win'?" he asked.

But Kuu ignored his question. "And it is not just the nature of the Hunt you'll need to withstand," his father added. Kuu turned and walked towards the fire. "They say the Winter Prince has already marked his preferred captures," Kuu said grimly. He could see Kuon's eyes widen at the implication. "And Reino…well. You know what his tastes are."

Kuon did, indeed, know what Reino's tastes were. And worse, he very well knew that that Prince had spent some time in the human world himself…stalking Kyoko. Kuon hadn't known immediately—the man was under a glamour, too. But Kuon had tipped his hand once Reino had seen Kyoko's gem. Inadvertently, he'd revealed who he truly was as he faced down the Winter Prince, and instantly, the identity of the Summer Prince's bondmate had been revealed. Was this the game Winter was playing? He grit his teeth in rage.

Knowing that the Winter Prince was riding sealed his participation. "When is this Hunt?" he asked.

"Tonight," his father said. "When the moon rises, the human prey will wake on the Field between our realms, and then the Hunt will be afoot."

"Tonight?" Kuon asked. It had been the early evening when he'd been taken from LME and magicked off to the Summer Palace, but he could see it was earlier here. It wasn't quite full dark yet, but the twilight was passing into a moonless, starless evening. Moonless for now, Kuon knew. The Beltane moon would rise in a few hours.

Kuu nodded grimly.

Just a few hours, then, until he rode to save her.

"Come," Julienna said, taking his arm. She was somber. "It is customary for the woman of the house to gird the Hunter with his armor and his weapons." She lowered her voice, glancing sideways at his father. "And there are many things you need to know, son. Many things that may help you. Many things that may help us." Whatever these things were, it was obvious that she and his father had argued over telling him. He watched as his mother shot a glance at Kuu, who nodded curtly.

"Be careful, Julienna," the king said. "The Old Ones must have their sacrifice."

"I do nothing to endanger my son or my family," Julienna retorted. "But Old Ones or no, I will not have him stumble through the Hunt blind and ignorant."

"I trust that your wisdom will carry him through, Julienna," his father said. "But even so, Winter—"

"I will not have Winter have its way in this," she responded, eyes flashing.

"Just take care not to violate the Compact of the Hunt," Kuu said. "War with Winter, we can withstand. But with the Old Ones? We haven't a hope."