Chapter Text
“So that’s it,” North concluded. It was the day before Easter. There were full stores of completed eggs, ready to be hidden and bring the joy and hope this day was supposed to be about.
Aster, sitting with head low over the head of his table, made a displeased grunt before throwing his head back and downing a pint of peach brandy.
“Yeah. No one’s going outside to hunt for eggs. We just gotta hold on, have faith spring’ll come.”
Toothiana let out a pained laugh. “I can’t even get out anymore, much less my girls.”
They glanced at the fourth seat, empty because Sandy alone seemed to be able to brave the winter to comfort the dreams of the frozen and suffering.
“Aww, don’t worry, Bunny.” An icy breath ghosted across the back of Aster’s neck; he started and whirled, expecting something terrible. Pitch, maybe, taking advantage of their misery and loss of faith.
Instead, he got Frost, perched on top of a shepherd’s crook, smiling widely at the assembled Guardians. The winter spirit waved at them cheerily before dropping to the ground. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I...” Aster’s throat was too tight to let words out. He just stared at the boy, heart skipping from the most fragile of hope - the hope that something would happen that you never dreamed of.
“Come on!” Jack leapt forward, wrapping an arm around Aster’s shoulders companionably. “You’re the Easter Bunny, right? Shouldn’t you be hiding eggs?”
“Not in twelve feet of bloody snow,” Aster growled. He shoved the arm off of his shoulders, hope cracking to allow irritation to slip in. “No one’d go out to find them, anyway.”
Jack shook his head, still grinning. “I don’t know. What if there was a miracle thaw? Seems like an egg hunt after that might help get people’s hopes up.”
“Frostbite? You...”
Jack nodded. “I’m still working on it. But someone’s been telling people stories about me. They believe I can do it.” And Aster heard the old giddiness in the boy’s voice, the same each of them had felt when first the belief began to build. The feeling that anything was possible, as long as you believed. The first magic any of them had ever learned. “And I promise you, Bunny, you’re going to have a snow-free Easter.”
He glanced up at the others, heart fluttering. “North, Tooth, do you think-”
“Would be happy to help Easter Bunny make best Easter ever!” North said, thumping his chest. “Always knew you’d ask my help one day.”
“Oh, me and the girls would be delighted!” Tooth twittered. She shot Jack a besotted smile that Aster suspected was more because of the boy’s even, white smile than anything else. He didn’t doubt, however, he was giving the lad a similar look, if only for the sheer gratitude and confusion whirling about him.
Jack vanished within a minute, saying something about high-pressure systems. In the absence of the distracting presence of the sprite, Aster remembered that he had a job to do, and leapt into action.
There was snow melting everywhere. Roofs were clearing, slowly, and ice cracking away under warm, southern winds. Aster almost got caught three times by children staring, wide-eyed, at the vanishing traces of winter. He suspected they, like him, saw the disappearing snow as invitation to explore whole worlds that had been blocked off by the encroaching winter.
He let out a few joyful whoops throughout the night; once, he was certain he heard an answering cry from the sky, even though he couldn’t catch sight of Jack Frost.
In the end, it somehow, miraculously, worked out. Easter Sunday dawned bright and warm and clear the world over, and ecstatic children burst from their homes to search for Easter eggs. The last vestiges of winter were sacrificed to Jack Frost in the form of epic snowball fights.
No one had seen Jack since the meeting in the Warren, which was just as well, because they had a serious discussion at North’s once Aster was certain everything had gone well. And then Aster took one of North’s snowglobes to Burgess, to Jack’s still-frozen pond.
The boy stood at the edge of the pond, looking up when Aster appeared.
Aster froze, uncertain about his place.
But then the boy grinned, a wide, irrepressible expression, and threw his arms wide. “Bunny! Better than ‘68, right?”
Once again, Aster felt his words falter. He nodded, certain that except for this miracle, the one thing he’d never dared hope for, children would have lost the last vestiges of their faith to the blizzards.
Something in Jack’s expression faltered when Aster didn’t reply. He took a hesitant step forward. “I did okay, right? I was trying to help-”
“Why?” Aster asked.
“What?”
“Why’d you come back? Why’d you help us?” Aster was tearing up, and despite his best efforts, wracking sobs escaped his mouth.
And then there were cool arms wrapped around him; Aster leaned in rather than push the boy away, and when he spoke, his voice was gentle, none of the mockery he seemed to prefer. “You apologized. You didn’t ask anything else, even though I knew you needed me. You...they needed me, Bunny.”
It was that little correction that sold it; Aster hadn’t been against North’s suggestion, exactly, but...well, if he’d had doubts, Jack dispelled them in a word.
“Well, come on, mate, the others want to have a word.” Aster pulled back and held up the snowglobe. “Although...it could take a while, if you’ve got plans.”
Jack’s enthusiasm burst back with a vengeance. He shook his head, grinning wildly. “Come on, I want to meet Santa again!”
Aster rolled his eyes, resigning himself to putting up with the boy’s obvious preference for Christmas.
But there was a puff of cold air, as Jack drew close, still grinning. “Aw, jealous, Bunny? I wouldn’t have cleaned a little snow up for just anyone.”
Aster dropped the snowglobe, ignoring the heat creeping up his ears, and hoping Jack was, too.
But Aster supposed he got his revenge when North’s offer for Jack to join the Guardians rendered the sprite speechless.