Work Text:
He comes from a world where the sky is splashes of pastels (blue, green, and pink being some of his favorites) and where the ground sprouts undiscovered vegetation or even animals is considered a typical Thursday. He comes from a world in which too clear areas hurt their sensitive eyes and so goggles are always a part of the latest fashion.
He doesn't belong in a world where the sky is blank and plain with blue, where streaks of pink, red, and purple come out when the day starts and ends. He doesn't belong in a world where the world turns pitch black with the sun gone and his only guide is the weak light of Manny. But he now belongs in a world where the ground has been razed, the earth a crumbly pack of black dust, and with him being the only waking and living creature on it.
For a long time he mourns with the Earth. So much life has been lost and it's easier to blame his choked breath on the stale air than the bubbling grief that threatens to overwhelm him. More often than not, Aster stays motionless. He looks up to the stars, the skies, to Manny for some sort of answer that wouldn't come.
The Earth was so young at the time. Creation had brushed its fingers mere moments ago as it hurls to an inevitable death. Whether Creation had intended it or not, the Earth was rotationally destined to burn up with the sun, becoming a speck of fuel for a blinding star. But the planet saw no point in changing.
Years passed in a despondent manner. Aster had moved underground as the surface grew extreme. Dust filled the air, the sky was a molded black from raging clouds and thundering light. The underground was much simpler. Though he had to imbue some of his magic and blessings for structural integrity, he made himself a humble abode.
Small, compact, but similar enough to his home world to make him feel... settled. Instead of a wandering ghost with no destination in mind, he's a wandering ghost with a concept of a goal. This burrow gave him something to do. Something to keep the grief from overflowing.
Mechanically he'd expand the size of it. And now it's big enough to house a sizable field. The surface was still too dangerous to casually wander, especially with the planet so close to the sun it could singe the ends of his fur.
So then he made his tunnels.
Carefully, he carved out paths that curved and sloped. Around the core and through protruding rocks, he entered a routine of digging. Aster could only guess how much time passed with the lack of sunlight. The only thing he was aware of was waking up, nibbling on some fruits and vegetables from seeds he nabbed, and digging.
Unknowingly, he had fixed the Earth's unfortunate egg curvature. More fortunately other spirits awoke from their slumber.
The first to wake was Old Man Winter. As a winter spirit, he wasn't very fond of the burnt look his lovely home was sporting and decided to make some executive decisions. Mostly it meant he was going around with his frost and snow like crazy. Aster had to learn the hard way that he did not appreciate the cold.
Old Man Winter's frenzy went on for a few centuries before Mother Nature got annoyed. She woke with the rage of a bear's hibernation being interrupted and gave the winter spirit a piece of her mind and fist. Under her rule it was more organized. Spirits roused from their slumbers, Aster became more inclined to help the vegetation under Mother Nature's urging (threats), and seasons came in cycles.
Soon enough the Earth was rocking towering trees and fields of grass. Her waters were clear as crystal with various animals ranging from microscopic to hulking masses frolicking in the waves, skies, and ground.
Then came Pitch. Pitch with his darkness and Fearlings and wars. The Man in the Moon- Tsar Lunar XII he calls himself but everyone just calls him Manny- gathered four elites to deal with him.
Sandy was the first to be recruited. He controlled the gold sand, chasing away the nightmares. North was second with his army of yetis. Aster recalls meeting North's mentor once before they met again, needing his help pertaining to the Earth's core. It was how he got roped into the chaos- how he earned his title as Guardian of Hope and Life, even when there were days and hours when he hardly had any.
Their most recent member is Toothiana, a fierce lady who's as fast as a hummingbird and a skilled fighter. Fighting back Pitch became a cycle. There will always be a period of time when nature and humans despaired and the Guardians are called upon to uproot Pitch's attempts of covering the world in his darkness. It's not exactly vicious when it's necessary.
In the end, Pitch disappears with his tail between his legs and peace reigns for a while in Pooka terms. Humanity learns and forgets their lessons while nature evolves.
Enough time has passed where the grief in Aster's being has waned to the point his heart aches at the memory of them. He's filled the need for family within the Guardians, as unfortunately distant as they are with humans branding them as these mythical for children.
But he knows in his heart that he's missing something.
***
Three blank eggs glimmered under Aster's careful gaze. Typically the colors for these googies would come to him immediately. In the canvas of his mind they would emerge from the negative space, filling every crevice with colors and shapes. But nothing is coming to mind with these three.
He sets them down on the grass with a gentleness akin to handling a newborn babe. "Why don't ye bugger off for a bit, eh? I got some thinkin' to do." The three eggs turned to each other before starting a chase heading towards the rivers. Aster watched them with a fond, albeit distant gaze. Easter had come and gone a week ago, leaving him another 350 something days to get ready for the next one.
Usually he takes this time to hand paint the little buggers but his inspiration has taken a hit. "'spose it's time I get outta here for a bit." He sighs, coming to his full height with a roll of his shoulders. He taps his foot on the earth and a rabbit hole appears. Aster takes a final look around the Warren and the three googies from earlier were already splashing around in the river. With a chuckle he jumps in.
There wasn't a particular destination in mind for his little excursion. He let the magic weave the tunnel, though, it seems to be having a little too much fun with the sharp turns and loops. "Slow it down you bloody- fuck!" The tunnel immediately entered a steep slope, causing his rump to hit the bend at a harsh angle and shooting Aster through the hearth akin to a bullet train.
"Stop, stop!" He scrambled at the smooth walls. His paws revealed sharp claws and he dug into the dirt hoping to slow himself down. Instead the tunnel became steeper before creating an opening.
Aster could only watch with growing dread as he shot through the blinding light. He feels himself go airborne and if he opened his eyes he'd see a sea of trees below before landing in a deep river. A cold shock to his system got him to move and splutter to the surface.
"Aw crikey." His nose twitched at the uncomfortable feeling of water in his nostrils. He swam his way to the bank of the river, dragging his now heavy body to land. A cool breeze tugged at his wet fur and he relished in its gentle caress. A sigh was dragged out his chest and he came to face the woodland area.
It was like any other forest. Flush trees, a bubbling brook somewhere west, twittering birds. The sky is as clear as can be with thin layers of clouds. He spots a group of deers down the river. A couple fawns awkwardly knock into their parents' legs, frolicking amongst each other and leaping on wet stone.
Something about it felt calming. Like a balm to his soul, especially after cracking down for Easter. With a cursory glance, Aster lets himself transform.
It's not often he lets himself loose like this.
Turning into this form- much smaller and very much prey was reserved for close family. And having Santa Clause, the Tooth Fairy, and the Sandman as family didn't give him much of an opportunity. They were all busy in some way, an unfortunate downside to being a Guardian of Children, but none of them would ever change it for the world.
It was too integral to who they are and was the reason for them coming together in the first place after so much loss.
Aster planted his front paws to the ground and let his back stretch into a deep arc, groaning at the satisfying pops of his spine. Contentment settled in his muscles before he sprinted into the forest. Greenery passed him in a blur, his paws lightly tapping the hearth.
His loppy ears flapped into the wind. He can hear so much more in this form. In the distance is a beehive busily moving between the flower fields and the hive. Even further away is a waterfall with a cave behind it where a group of nymphs laze after a day of fun.
There's another thing he notices. The trees were glowing , metaphorically and literally. There was a faint light in their leaves, a hum under their bark. It couldn't be the ants and there was a distinct lack of pecking marks or sounds from woodpeckers.
The thumping of his flat feet (paws?) slowed as he came to approach one of the thicker trees. Far behind him are the prosaic sounds of playful critters and water. Tree canopies block the sunlight from touching the forest floor, leaving him extra precautious as he navigates his way around.
Aster presses a paw on the trunk, following a faint flow of energy to the intricate roots. It's an overlapping network of roots and tunnels that can rival his own boscage in the Warren.
"Yer an ancient one ain't cha?" Energy beneath the bark pulsed under his touch. An eager response to a rare visitor, especially one blessed with Life and Fertility as Aster.
A tentative sapling curls around the bunny's leg. It squeezes and loosens its grip as if testing the thickness of his muscle before sending a message. "Ye want my blessing?" Aster frowned at the trellis. He wasn't the biggest fertility spirit since his believers associated him with life and hope in general. However, his blessing would be strong enough to make breeding easier.
"I don't see why not." He mutters despite a small voice in the back of his head warning him against it. Blessings weren't as fanciful as people say it is. There's no blinding light or a slight echo or dissonance in the voice once the words are uttered.
All there is between the caster and recipient are the rhythm of the Voice and the intent in the Words. Aster liked to keep his easy and simple. Keeps a very small room for error when it's direct.
Wiggling as the blessing took its effect, the vine tightened its grip on the bunny. Aster immediately felt something was off and was quick to kick at the sprout. But no matter how hard he kicked or clawed at the thing, its grip tightened and started to drag him.
A yawning void with jagged teeth at the edges opened at the other end of the sprout.
Fuck, I should've known!
"Bugger off!" He yells. The vine whipped him against a root, making his vision swim and stomach churn. It was sapping the energy from his body- practically rendering him paralyzed. Dark spots dotted his view of the tree canopies where the sunlight leaked to the ground.
What a pathetic way to go. He thinks to himself. Just once he wanted to let his guard down by a little bit. It's the least he deserves for the Life and Joy he brings to Earth, the only place that welcomed him with open arms at his most dire state.
With a bitter cough, Aster allowed his eyes to flutter to a close, embracing the sudden cold.
***
When Aster opens his eyes he's greeted by a shoddy roof. It's made of wooden planks, some molded from water and others covered in moss. A quick glimpse at the walls covered in frost confirmed his suspicions.
A winter spirit in the middle of Spring... must be a pretty decent one then, he mused to himself. The only other winter spirits he knows to be capable of staying awake in warmer seasons are ancient, like North and Old Man Winter. The former is too busy making toys and updating his Naughty and Nice lists to be out and about. The latter was simply too old and lazy to be around.
"Oh, it's awake!" Aster's ears stiffened at the voice, shooting up in an alarmed manner. His small head looked around to see a boy no older than eighteen standing by the door.
Odd. His muscles tensed, his mind running miles in a single second. As disoriented as he is, Aster's senses were incredibly sensitive. Paired with his current paranoid state he should have heard the spirit come in before they spoke.
Suddenly, a chilly hand presses on his head. Thin fingers rub at the space between his eyes and rub against his spine all the way to his tail. A pleased click of his teeth came out unexpectedly, causing him to flush.
"You're so cute, you know that?" The boy lifts him from the bed and cradles the bunny in his arms. "I've never had a pet before. At least, not as far as I can remember. But I don't think it would be too hard to raise one." The mindless petting prevented Aster from forming a coherent thought. Rarely is he ever touched in a gentle manner and his body has been yearning for something intimate.
Rendered helpless under his care, Aster decided (was forced to) make observations. They were still in the forest, though in a large clearing. A couple feet from the house (shack? It was quite small and the walls were as shoddy as the roof) was a towering tree that rivaled Yggdrasil's might and age.
Throughout the day the boy went around the forest. His feet were bare of any shoes and yet he walked on rocky surfaces with ease. There was a distinct lack of fear in him that made Aster curious. Any spirit or fae worth their salt were fearless for the reason that they can kill or escape danger in a moment's notice. But the boy's source of fearlessness came from something else.
He travels with a confidence that they won't attack him. At some point they come across a family of bears. The cubs were out playing by the river bank and the parents were a bit further down catching fish. The boy had set him down and went to tease them. Aster knew he could run away before the cubs or their parents could do anything to him. But he lingered just in case the boy needed help.
From the boy's fingertips came down tiny snowflakes. The cubs eagerly chomped at the flakes with one of them holding the boys hands to lick at his fingertips. The adult bears glanced at the children before going back to catching fish.
"They're always like this, ya know?" The boy massaged the ears of the biggest looking cub which tried to escape his chilly grasp in a futile manner. "Their parents try to teach them how to hunt but they get too playful. One time this little booger got distracted by a butterfly and ran off a cliff chasing it." The cub in his arms whines at the memory.
The boy laughs, pulling at their cheeks. "Oh yes you were a troublemaker. You made mommy and daddy so mad they carried you around every day for three months."
Aster cautiously came to the boy's side. His prey instincts were ringing silent alarms telling him to run despite his prowess as a goddamn ancient Spring spirit . The cub squinted their beady black eyes at him, seemingly searching for something. Visibly satisfied, they went back to chomping at snowflakes.
The day was passed in a similar manner. The boy would wander around, plucking berries from bushes and sharing some with Aster. When the moon finally positioned itself high in the sky, the boy brought them back to the house.
"There's not much here and I only have this bed." Aster was curled by the pillow with the boy's back facing the door. His bright eyes were slightly glazed with the day's exhaustion catching up to him. "Tomorrow I'll make you a bed. You can pick out all the leaves, sticks, and feathers you want in it. Maybe I could get around to making a garden too," he snickered to himself.
"Imagine that. A winter spirit making a garden." Aster huffed through his nose at the thought. Amidst the boy's idle chatter, he finally fell into a peaceful sleep.
***
Waking up next to a living body is a new experience for Aster. He's had plenty of nightmares where he turns to the side of his nest to find a decomposed Pooka. Sometimes his mother and father. Other times it's bones.
But he shakes off the memories and thin layer of snow in the early morning. His nose twitched from the cold and burying into the boy would simply make it worse so he settles for jumping on the table across the bed. There's a window right beside it, letting the warm rays of sun melt off the powdery snow.
The boy wakes a couple minutes later and lets out a pleased hum seeing the bunny in his home.
"If you're really going to stay with me then we need to exchange names. I'm called Jack." He prods at Aster's puffy cheeks. "And you will be Bunny. Easy, right?"
Aster rolls his eyes.
The boy- Jack, Aster corrects himself, laughs. "Okay I get it, not very creative on my part. But the other option was Sir Maximillian Wizardious the Third."
Jack was far too proud with that name. "Of course, Sir Maximillian Wizardious the First goes to Sir Maximillian Wizardious the First."
Aster scoffed, opting to hop away and start collecting twigs for his nest rather than entertaining the ridiculous conversation.
"Hey wait up!"
***
Majority of their conversations were one sided, if they could even be considered conversations. Mostly because Aster isn't a big conversationalist. In his... he's not even sure but estimated thousands of years of living, Aster's only made four friends which are, predictably, the Guardians. Their group is big enough that he doesn't always have to participate in the chatter and when it comes to one on one talks it's usually about something important. For example, the return of Pitch.
Not for example, who can climb the tree the fastest.
"You cheated!" Jack pants as he lays on one of the tree's thicker branches. "I'm pretty sure bunnies can't jump two feet straight in the air..." Aster is perched two branches higher and his chest swells in pride without his permission.
Amidst Jack's grumbling, Aster snaps off a thin branch with plenty of leaves then promptly drops it on the boy's body. Jack spluttered, pushing it away hurriedly with some parts catching on his clothes.
It's been a couple months since Aster first stepped foot in the forest. In the day he spends his time in Jack's company. It's a new and pleasant constant in his life, breaking the century long routine of jumping around and painting in his Warren. At night, he returns to his Warren and readies the eggs for Easter. Aster mentally sighs at his yearly plight. He could never be too ready.
Jack plucks out the stray leaves in his hair. The soft yellow light of the sun on his fair skin made his blue eyes so much brighter. They glisten under the light, shimmering in a way diamonds do at an angel yet his irises do it so naturally.
"...ey... hey, Bunny! Are you with me?"
Aster snaps out of his thoughts at the urgency in Jack's voice. Those cerulean eyes are much closer now, looking deep into Aster with a seated concern.
"You scared? Well, that would make sense. It's not like you see a bunny climb hundreds of feet up a tree." Jack mutters to himself as he cradles the bunny into his arms. Though he could fly to the top, Jack preferred to climb. Something about the motions in reaching for the thicker branches and scraping his skin against bark felt familiar. It made him feel normal in a way.
The bunny bit at his clothes, arranging himself to be comfortable in Jack's hold. His touch was always welcomed especially this deep into Summer.
When they reached the top they were greeted by a sea of green in the North. To their left in the distance was a field of yellow. Stalks of wheat flutter in waves, following the domineering flow of wind.
For a moment the world stopped.
Pitch was no longer an age old enemy hiding behind the shadows, threatening to take away anything and everything Aster hold dear in his heart. Humans weren't slowly killing off the Earth and her beauty remains eternal. And all that existed in this moment were Jack and Aster.
A spirit and a bunny.
***
Aster knows he's in deep trouble when he catches himself painting Jack on the eggs. It's fine when he draws him in the sketchbook. It's not like he filled one or two of them of just Jack. (In fact, he's done three sketchbooks with Jack and Aster . Some more appropriate than others.)
The egg doesn't mind at all. In fact, the poor thing had been made to stay still for so long that it fell asleep. Aster gently laid it on the grass, signaling one of the statues to take them somewhere safe.
He had a lot of thinking to do.
Easter is fast approaching and lines of googies were jumping into rivers of paint. Flowers and saplings were busy brushing on lines, squiggles, and dots all over the eggs. Some of the eggs he hand painted in the past year were already running crazy around the Warren. They tripped and chased each other, careful to not crack.
There was an organized chaos to all of it, which is the only kind of chaos he's willing to tolerate.
Well... was.
Jack always found ways to push Aster's limits. A more recent example is when Old Man Winter had arrived to their little haven. The old spirit had an air of wisdom to him. He's a deceptive old thing, making the younger spirits look up to him like a grandpa rather than the ridiculous ass he really is.
"Jack! How's Mother treatin' ya?" He swept into the clearing sitting on his cloud, a thick branch with an oil lamp at the end swinging with him.
"She hasn't been around, but I'm making do." The young spirit shrugs.
"Are ya now..." Old Man Winter hums, eying the bunny in Jacks arms. "And who's this lil fella?" He pokes at the bunny's nose with a thin finger.
"My friend Bunny. Met them a couple months ago, actually."
The old winter spirit laughed at that. "Ya named the poor critter 'Bunny?' Ya really ain't no better than Mother when it comes to namin' these things." He howls joyfully.
Jack had the self-awareness to blush. "Look, it was the best I could come up with. I don't think you wanna know what their name almost became."
"You right about that, boy. Now, d'ya wanna help an old man out spreading some Winter cheer?"
It didn't take Jack a second to consider. "Of course! Lemme wrap Bunny up and I'll be ready to go."
Aster looked up in alarm. The cold weather was making him half miserable already. Being in close quarters with two winter spirits, especially one as ancient as Old Man Winter was a special hell for the Pooka.
He eagerly tried to escape Jack's grasp but the boy seemed to have expected it. "Oh come on dude. Promise it won't be as bad as you think."
The door to their home swings wide open with the wind blowing in some powdered snow. Jack's grip was firm and imposing, not letting up despite Aster's displeased clawing and clicks. The spirit ruffled around the bed and pulled out a long, thick piece of cloth. It was a pretty shade of green, reminiscent of Aster's eyes.
"I promise to wrap you all nice and snug." Aster gave up his struggle. Once Jack sets his mind on something, nothing can discourage him. Sensing his victory, Jack wrapped the bunny in the cloth with the tips of his loppy ears being covered as well.
"Time to go, boy!"
On the fluffy cloud, Old Man Winter, Jack, and poor Aster were off.
They flew high in the sky, once above the treetops, then above the clouds. Aster dug his claws deeper into Jack's clothes and the young man had enough conscience to pet him in comfort. "So where did you find the little thing?" The old winter spirit magicked a long, thin smoking pipe of ice. Every breath he puffed produced a snow cloud. Jack carded his fingers in them. "Bunny got caught by one of Mother's guards."
Old Man Winter raises a brow. "And you thought it was smart to let 'em in? You know how deep in the forest the thing had to be to even get see Mother's guards, let alone getting caught by them."
"He's harmless! Besides, I'm old enough to take care of myself." Jack huffs.
"I'm just teasin' ya, boy. Now, wanna ride some storms?"
"Hell yes!" Old Man Winter chuckles, taking a deep breath. The next cloud he puffs out is like a balloon. The more air he puts in the denser and larger it becomes until it creates snow at this altitude. "Remember: no hail. Don't wanna piss off 'em Spring spirits when they wake up." Jack excitedly jumped on the cloud and waves off his elder's concerns. "I know, I know. Just watch over Bunny for me!" And with a resounding whoop, Jack zooms off to the ground with his snow and blizzards.
Old Man Winter looked down, slightly resigned. "That boy... he's got that young spirit spryness to him."
"Reminds me of my early days, don't you agree, Aster?"
The bunny visibly deflates at the name. "What do you want, old man?" The winter spirit laughs at his apparent dislike. "Nothing much, boy. Just wanted to tell you to be careful. Jack is loved by a lot of old spirits like me, you know? Can't have you going around and pissing one of them off seeing how much he likes you."
"You think I couldn't tell he's Moon blessed?" Aster scoffs. "That white hair and gives it away."
"Alright, you youngin's clearly know more than this feeble old man."
"I'm older than you, runt."
Old Man Winter let out a cackle just as Jack returned from his trip. Tendrils of frost crept around his clothes and under the sun, Aster can see the ice around his skin. "What are you laughing about gramps?" Jack directs his cloud to be right beside the other spirits' and opens his arms for Aster to jump into.
"Me and your rabbit were just tellin' jokes. D'ya know he's older than me?" The spirit continued to laugh, doubling over and holding on to his stomach as though he said the funniest thing of the century. Jack looks at him incredulously then back to Bunny. But Aster had long hid his face in Jack's cold arms and stopped listening to them.
"Uh, sure. And Bunny is a bunny."
The spirit laughs even harder.
Neither of them notice the sprinkle of black sand on the edge of Jack's pants.
***
It's the first Easter since they've met and Aster is ready to... reveal, himself to Jack. The busy nature of Easter was putting him on edge and Jack has noticed both his disappearances and fatigue.
"Don't wear yourself out." Jack said, petting Aster on the bed. "You're almost all skin and bones. You know you can just stay in my home and relax, right?" And Aster did know. When he's around Jack, he's no longer E. Aster Bunnymund. He's just Aster. Aster who's tired of the monotony of his life where every day he wakes up, paints his eggs, and occasionally checks on the plants in his Warren.
Being the Easter Bunny had once brought him so much joy. He had forgotten what it was like to be depended on, what it felt like to have people look up to him. And that's what being the Easter Bunny- the Guardian of Hope and Life - has returned to him.
When he first realized he was growing bored with his holiday, he felt guilt. He was the last of his kind and this holiday was the only thing he had left of his culture, his people . What right did he have to feel bogged by the very thing remind him of his life before.
But then he thinks back to his time with Jack, when they spent their time combing through the forest. They foraged their meals every day and seeing the absolute joy in Jack's eyes reminds him of his early years as the Easter Bunny. Back when he would stick around after hiding the eggs, gently pushing the little things to the younger kids so they'd be easier to find.
"I've got ye to thank for that." He murmurs to himself, holding a light blue egg in his paw. It was the one he had accidentally painted Jack on. The young and curious face has a glimmer of mischief in those eyes.
In a daze, he comes to a decision. With three thumps on the ground, Aster pockets the egg and hops in, letting his magic lead him straight to their home.
When he first lands in the clearing, he immediately notices that something's wrong. The charge of energy in the air he's felt consistently is gone, and the sound of the forest is more subdued. As if they were waiting for something.
He cracks open the door to their home, expecting to see the spirit taking an afternoon nap. Instead he finds a rumpled bed. Immediately he gets to his paws and sprints around the forest. In every leaf and branch he can smell Jack and his magic. He calls out for him and he prays this is some twisted prank. Maybe when he takes another turn, Jack will pop from the trees with that proud smile and say " gotcha! " Maybe when he goes back to the clearing Jack'll be in the garden and impatiently eating the unripe strawberries like usual.
When Aster climbs the tallest tree in a last ditch, heart thrumming with the threat of exploding in his chest, he sees black sand scarring the once golden field.
Found you.
He feels the ground below him disappear.
***
Easter almost doesn't happen.
North had forced his way into the Warren, commanding the warrior eggs to lead the googies around the world. Aster was anything but unprepared when it came to his holiday.
***
Sandy is the one who finds him half feral in the Alps. The tips of his paws were frostbitten and his fur is in chunks of ice. It took three hits of his sand for Aster to go down.
"Oh, poor Aster." North opens his door to Sandy clearly irritated and Aster knocked out cold. "Bring him to infirmary! I will look at him." It was a combined effort to control Aster as he was being transported. He woke up immediately once they stepped into the warm workshop.
North nearly broke some bones trying to restrain him. "Friend, do not panic! We here to help!" He tried to get through Aster's feral state. But his sensible mind was too far gone. The last time he's entered such severe fight-or-flight response was when Pitch had massacred his people.
Recovery would take much longer this time around.
***
Tooth was called in on after the eighth Easter since Aster's recovery. He was able to regain feeling in his paws and his fur has long returned to their bright and soft nature. At this point the Pooka was conscious for a few hours every other week. His sleep was no different from a coma and in his waking moments he was catatonic.
He might as well be dead.
"In all my years being the Tooth Fairy, Aster has never lost a tooth before." She murmurs while investigating his waking state. "Usually I would be able to swap out memories. But without a tooth, all I can do is fog them up a little."
Her little fairies twiddled amongst themselves to keep out of Toothiana's way. Memories were a delicate thing. One wrong move and the person can lose a part of their identity.
North was quick to ferry out his elves and yetis while Sandy and the other tooth fairies stood by to help. Toothiana procured a quarter and placed it in the middle of Aster's forehead.
And she let the magic take its course.
***
It's 2008 and Aster has somewhat settled into the groove of things. His friends would fret over him from time to time, being generous enough to visit him at his Warren despite their busy schedules. He was shadowed by guilt for just a moment before North had strong armed him into a tight hug.
"You my friend are very precious. Seeing you like that broke my heart. It's good see you alive and yourself."
Aster denies having cried.
But there were times he wonders what happened. His recollection is shoddy at best, his mind stuck on white hair and blue eyes. A fairly common winter spirit looking with the ever changing perceptions of humanity. When he asks Toothiana for help she simply shakes her head.
"Aster, you were in a terrible state when Sandy found you. We'd rather not risk losing you again. But I promise, when the time comes, I'll help you with your memories." She squeezes his shoulder as comfort. And he puts his trust in them.
***
At the tail end of 2011 the Guardians receive an invitation from Mother Nature. They were all gathered in North's workshop, helping him get ready for his annual Christmas party. It was a final 'hurrah' at the end of the year, to celebrate another year as Guardians and to let loose.
It was when North had opened his windows to let in the cool Winter air that an eagle shoots through. The thing was quite large and its black and white feathers decorated the room.
A Northern Goshawk- Aster notes- promptly dumps a thin stone tablet at the center of the floor. "What a cute little devil," the Easter Bunny murmurs while he pets the bird. "A devil it is, friend." North grumbles as he picks up the tablet. On the front are vines decorating the corners and edges with curls and stretches.
In loopy script with earthy ink, it says: 'To the Guardians of Children, Mother Nature invites you to the debut of her ward, Jack Frost.'
"Jack Frost, eh?" North whistles.
"There hasn't been a new named Winter spirit for centuries now." Toothiana notes, peaking over North's wide shoulders.
Aster traces over the delicate vines with a frown. The name sticks in his head, echoing in his faded memories. When he scrunches his brows to recall where he's heard it from, he comes up with minute details. In an old memory of Easter, perhaps three centuries ago, there was a girl chasing after her brother who snatched an egg right as she found it. The memory ticks him slightly.
"Any of you's know anything of this lad? Sandy?"
The Guardian of Dreams shook his head. His golden sand gathers above his head, forming a man in a rather large suit standing on the moon.
Aster raises a brow. "You think MiM knows?"
Sandy nods.
They all turn to the moon, bathing them in a white light. His words reverberated in their heads. It was a gentle and joyous sound, akin to a large, old bell being rang by a child.
"An old friend?" North closes his eyes, nodding to himself. "Well, a friend of MiM is friend of mine! We shall see meet them soon!"
Leave it to North to be so casual with the birth of a new spirit, especially one reared by Mother Nature herself.
***
The nature of Mother Nature's party (ha!) and the debut are fairly simple. She's connected to all forms of life on Earth and so is her magic. The invitees only have to hold on to their invitations and walk into a nearby forest where the trees welcome them to another clearing.
An assortment of spirits have either settled on a patch of land to watch this 'Jack Frost' debut or are flying around making mischief. "It's been a long time since I've seen a debut, especially with a gathering this large." Toothiana flutters around, pointing out old spirits like Old Man Winter and the Leprechaun. Instead of her usual entourage, she's shrinked down their size to five fairies. "Now girls, stay on your best behavior. And don't go off touching people's teeth!" The five fairies reluctantly nodded their heads, hiding their crossed fingers behind their backs.
The last time the fairies had been brought to a gathering like this was a disaster. Apollo was debuting one of his nymphs who performed with her voice and lyre. Upon opening her mouth, two of the younger fairies had instantly dived to her teeth with rapt interest, putting an early end to the event.
Aster and North chuckle at their antics. These were some of the older fairies under Toothiana's command so their restraint would be better than the previous groups'.
Aster was never the social Guardian, that title is constantly juggled between North and Tooth. But he knew better than to turn down an invitation from Mother Nature herself. So here he is on Greenland's northern island when he'd rather be back at the Warren tending to the googies.
"You never know, maybe you'll find something life changing here!" Tooth's ever positive cheer drags him from his slump. "I heard that her ward is quite the looker." She winks cheekily.
Yeah, as if a young spirit would be interested in a thousand year old Pooka like him. But Aster knew better than to talk back when Tooth is like this, so he opts for a helpless smile and surface level mingling with the others.
"Shhh, it's starting!"
The Guardians turn to the center of the clearing. There was a long running lake with a boy at the center. He wasn't standing on water. Rather, it was freezing beneath his feet. The crowd entered a hushed silence, the fireflies providing some aesthetic light while MiM directed his moonlight to the star of the night.
Then the music began to play. A medley of strings ring in the air, moving the boy's arms to the sky before he pushes against the frozen surface of the lake and glides. His limbs swing wide but controlled, his body traverses across the ice at swift speeds with power in his legs.
For a moment, Aster is stunned. There music in his ears are dulled, slowly being overpowered by a ringing noise. A memory is forcing its way to the forefront of his mind, a memory of a boy with white hair.
Their eyes lock.
He remembers.