A young girl ran in front of the children, her white dress splaying out like a blizzard behind her as she took off into the wind, waving at them all the way. She twisted as she drifted away, her laugh as carefree as a snowflake caught on an unruly breeze, humming to herself as the wind took her to an unknown land in need of some snow. 

It was nearing Easter now, and the first few snowdrops had started to push their heads out of the ice, but she was adamant on the fact that until all of the snow melted, there was always a chance of a few more flurries here and there. 

The girl swerved quickly, drawing herself up to a stop to see where she had been so far, and her jaw dropped open slowly with delight. The entire town was flooding the valley in a glow of firelight, the laughter of protesting children and the sighs of weary parents echoing to her across the way. She floated there, her hair wafting in the moonlight, watching over the children of Burgess with a small smirk lilting over her face. It was late, and she ought to be heading home, but there was just something about this small town that always drew her back to it, despite the fact that it was leagues away from her homeland of Norway.  Vague recollections of her own childhood came spinning back to her, but it had been so long now that all she could make out were hazy sights of mountains and ice, with a soft voice whispering to her the stories of Loki and Thor, and the slightest scent of daisies on a summer breeze.

“Jokul?” came a voice on the ground, and she tore her head away from the flickering lights of the little village to see Bunnymund below her, standing on his hind legs to get a better view of her. 

“Ah, Bunny,” she cried, and swooped down to hug him, almost knocking him over with her exuberance. “It has been a long time, old friend. We have not crossed paths since last Easter, have we not?” Her Norwegian accent was jarring the words, but the Easter Bunny merely smiled at her effort. 

“By my reckonin’,” he agreed, nodding slowly. Jokul laughed happily, and spun away from him with a rambunctious hoot, settling herself onto the air with a content look on her face. He smiled at her, let out a quiet chuckle of amusement, and held out his paw. 

“Shall we walk?” he asked her, and a dazzling smile lit up her face as she took the proffered arm eagerly, attempting to walk with him. There was a rather irritating height difference, and so Jokul was forced -- much to Bunnymund’s amusement -- to conjure a soft zephyr to keep her a few inches off the ground so that she could reach his arm easily. 

“What’ve you been up to?” he asked, as they walked down through woods, the scent of evergreen pine and the sharp cold dancing through the air like smoke. “I heard that North was rather upset about that blizzard you conjured up during Yule. Something about it being too foggy for the sleigh.” 

Jokul let out a gasp, and her eyes flew wide open in shock. “That was not my intention!” she cried, shaking her head apologetically. “I simply wished for the children to have a gloriously white Christmas, not for there to be any trouble. Oh, what happened?” she asked sadly, “Do tell me that there was not too much of a problem!”

“Calm down, you little ankle biter,” he laughed, patting her on the head, “he got a new reindeer out of it, Randolph, or somethin’. In a way, you did well. You shouldn’t get so upset so easily.” 

She sighed, and shrugged, “I cannot help it. It is like asking you not to speak with your Australian accent. It is,” she waved her hands for a moment, gesturing towards her chest, “it is part of who I am.” 

Bunnymund laughed gently, and shook a bit of snow off of the tree with his free paw, aiming it so that it hit her in the hair. She let out a shriek of surprise, and shook it out onto him like a dog, her twin braids slapping him lightly across the shoulder. 

“Bunny!” she complained, letting go of his arm to dust the flakes from her hair, glaring at him all the while, although the quirk of her mouth betrayed her hidden amusement. “That was cruel,” she told him, after his laughter had subsided.

“My apologies,” he told her, giving the winter spirit a wide grin. “I simply thought you would appreciate it. It seems that my intentions were gravely misunderstood,” he proclaimed, doffing an imaginary cap before giving her an exaggerated bow. 

She let out a childish giggle, and clapped her hands with amusement. “And they say that rodents have no good manners,” she mused, and it was his turn to shoot a glare. His paw shot out, fast as lightning, spinning her effortlessly to face him as he shook his head.

“I’m a bunny,” he informed her seriously, but she simply tutted quietly, dusting the snow from his chest with an absent smile on her face, her fingers stroking the downy fur with care. 

“A rabbit, or bunny, is a rodent,” she said, and looked up, “although I must say that you are my favourite rodent of them all.” At that she gave him a shy smile, taking her hands away from where they had been placed on his chest.

--And perhaps it was the moonlight against her blue eyes that made them seem even brighter, or the snow against her pale skin giving her the appearance of an angel, or even that lilting, gentle smile of hers that made him do it. Bunnymund took her cold hands, both of them, and entwined them with his larger paws. Then he bent down, slowly, almost deliberately so, he brought his lips nearer to hers. 

He hesitated, just before kissing her, to hazard a chance at her face. Jokul’s eyes had fluttered shut, and her lips had parted ever so slightly. Bunnymund smiled slightly at her complete and utter innocence, and pressed his lips gently to hers. 

She was colder than he expected, but not freezing. It was just as though he were kissing some sort of mountain stream-- cool, and sweet, with the vaguest hints of mint. Jokul was trembling against him, like some sort of lost bird, and so he slowly wrapped his arms around her waist, in fear that her legs might even buckle beneath her. Her crook fell to the ground, clattering against the pebbles that littered this area of the clearing. 

It was chaste, but it was full of unspoken promises and centuries of double meanings, and ‘accidental’ meetings during Easter or Yule. 

She pulled away slowly, her eyelids fluttering open to look at him, cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. “I--” she began hazily, but cleared her throat once to get rid of the dreamlike tone to her voice. “I have been alive very nearly seven hundred years, Bunny,” she whispered, quietly and sheepishly, “and I have to say I enjoyed that kiss more than any of the others.”

He gave her a playful grin, straightening up. “I do try,” he told her, and she let out a childish giggle. “Did you mind?” he asked, and Jokul gave him a toothy beam, her hand clutching his tightly. 

“Mind?” she asked, and her grin dropped to form a sly smirk, “Only if you refuse me a repeat of your performance,” she told him with a slight pout. He laughed loudly, and turned his head to the trees, as though they were some form of audience. 

“This girl might just be the death of me,” he admitted to the conifers, and swerved abruptly to kiss her again, this time wholly less chaste, his hands slipping up her back to her shoulders, bracing her against him.

She let out a breathy sigh, and fisted her tiny hands against his back, using the wind to carry her higher so that she could kiss him with more ease. He let out a quiet chuckle against her lips when she did so, and nipped at her bottom lip lightly. Jokul’s eyes shot open, and he used her sudden distraction to kiss her harder, tongue lightly brushing against hers. She felt her knees buckle, and was so thankful of Bunnymund’s arms holding her up, otherwise she would have drifted away with the breeze.

They broke apart -- seconds, minutes, years -- later, when something tapped against both of their shoulders, and slowly shaking them to get their attention. Jokul snapped, her eyes wide and alert, her face flushed with embarrassment. Bunnymund was considerably more relaxed about the situation, pulling away from her almost lazily, and turned to the interrupter with a bemused smile playing over his lips. 

“Sandy,” he greeted, and the short man sent him a look of pure, yet somewhat smug, shock. A blur of sand figures appeared over his hair, moving so fast that they seemed to meld into one large blob. Jokul laughed nervously, unsure of how to react. She had only met this Guardian twice, at the wedding of North and Katherine, as all the Immortals were invited, and on her first day as Jokul Frosti, to meet all of the other Immortals in the world. Jokul was just a lowly winter sprite, probably completely unknown in the books of the other Guardians, and despite the Sandman’s tiny stature, she was terrified of how to act around him. 

“Slow it down,” demanded Bunnymund, holding up the paw that was not holding Jokul’s waist. “Now, take it from the top. What?” 

The Sandman made a face of exasperation, and played out the images slowly. It was Bunnymund and Jokul, at first talking, but then the figures swam and became two hands being held, forming to a couple kissing beneath the moonlight, and finally a love heart appearing over both of their heads, along with a question mark.

“You wish to know for how long we have been... in this way?” asked Jokul, her eyebrows furrowed as she attempted to decipher the Sandman’s erratic pictures. Sandy beamed at her, and touched his forefinger to his nose. 

“Well, about ten minutes ago,” said Bunnymund, tugging Jokul into him with a slight smile. “Consider yourself the first to know.” 

Sandy raised an eyebrow, and drew up an image of the two other Guardians, North and Toothiana, with Bunnymund and Jokul holding hands to the left. The winter sprite cocked her head to the side, and chewed at her lower lip in thought.

“You wish to know whether we will tell them?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, and Sandy nodded again. 

“Pretty soon, I expect,” said Bunnymund, turning to face her. “That is, if you don’t mind,” he added, and in the background Sandy clasped his hands beneath his chin in a mocking falsetto position. 

“I am not afraid to tell them,” she said with a shrug, “I only dread to think of how Toothiana would react. You remember how exuberant she was over Nikolas and Katherine, yes?” 

Bunnymund groaned, and ran a paw down his face. “Don’t remind me. Now I’m dreading it, too,” he muttered, and shook his head. “Look at the two of us, afraid of the big, bad Toothfairy! She’d be laughing like a dingo if she knew.” 

“Like a dingo,” agreed Jokul unsurely, and Bunnymund chuckled, ruffling her hair fondly. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll have you part of the canting crew in no time at all,” he told her, and she ducked away from his hand childishly. Sandy waved at them to get their attention back, and they glanced over towards him. 

He waved once, and gestured to the sky. 

“So many children, so little time,” agreed Bunnymund sagely, and the little man took off into the air with a grin, blowing teasing kisses at them all the way to the golden cloud. Bunnymund chuckled quietly at his antics, and Jokul giggled beside him, tucking a strand of white hair behind her ear. 

Suddenly, she felt the prickle of cool bark at her back, and Bunnymund’s paws pinning her shoulders to the trunk of an ice-laced tree. Her eyes shot up to his in surprise, and he merely grinned, resting his forehead against hers. 

“Now,” he murmured, smiling as her lips contorted into an expectant smirk, “where were we?” 

:

She had promised to meet Bunnymund at the Warren to help him prepare for next week. Despite his cool demeanour, the Easter Rabbit was very prone to panicking, especially when all the other Guardians were involved. Sandy had egged them into revealing their relationship, despite their plethora of excuses-- “Easter’s coming up!” and, “It is snow weather!” or even, “I’m just not ready yet!” 

Jokul had promised the day to Loptr, a young Norwegian believer from her hometown and a descendant of her brother’s. It was his birthday, and he had begged his ‘Aunt Frosti’ for a snow day, and who was she to deny him? It hadn’t taken much effort, and she still had just about enough daylight left to fly over to the Warren in the nick of time. 

She hadn’t wagered on the thunderstorm, however. Almost halfway across America she encountered a huge storm, darker than bleak winter nights, and twice as grim. She braced her crook against her chest as she flew on, her eyes watering from the effort. 

“Well, well, well,” murmured a voice, and her eyes widened in shock. Jokul tore her head up against the tumultuous wind, and let out a squeak of fear. Kozmotis Pitchiner, in the flesh. 

He stood there, with the shadows swirling about him, and the two storm crows, Thunder and Lightning, at his shoulder. He smiled at her slyly, slick as oil and twice as dark, cooing quietly at her fear. She was not a warring Guardian, almost entirely useless on the field of battle. Entirely useless without Bunnymund. 

“Oh, little Jokul Frosti,” he purred, advancing slowly. “So alone. So scared. No Easter Bunny to help you here, is there,” he asked, and let out a quiet chuckle. She whipped about in a circle, but everywhere she turned a new shadow flared up, blocking her path. “I won’t let you go that easily,” he tutted, and she stared at him, her breath shaky as she attempted to remain calm. 

“I can taste your fear, Jokul,” he told her, circling her like a predator in front of its prey, eyes narrowed into slits and mouth quirked into a sick smile. “It’s so sweet, so beautifully sweet.” 

She bit her lip, and shut her eyes in horror as he waved his hand, sending an army of shadows straight towards her. He smirked at her screaming, and wrapped his lips around his forefinger, drawing it out leisurely. 

“So sweet,” he murmured again, and watched as Jokul dropped from the air, tumbling down towards the earth below. Her shepherd’s crook followed not long after, wheeling tumultuously through the starry sky. 

Her body moved faster and faster towards the ground, spinning and whirling, but not once did her eyes open or her heart speed up. In fact, she was completely still, without even her breath to disturb the peaceful silence. 

Jokul landed, suddenly, into a small lake below, her body slamming into it with full force, sending tidal waves out towards the bank. Her crook dropped not long after, but instead of following her into the watery grave, it simply froze the surface, creating a sheen of perfect ice across the top. 

:

“Where is she?” demanded Bunnymund, pacing back and forth across the small field, a row of eggs watching him in confusion. Sandy was floating there, his eyes trained on the sky, keeping a lookout for the frost sprite. 

“Do you think she doesn’t care, Sandy?” he asked, the odd tone of his voice making the little man look up. The rabbit looked mournful, almost completely lost, his hands wringing in panic. “I mean, I haven’t seen her in a week. I thought it was just because it was winter, and she’d be busy, but maybe she was avoiding me? Maybe she never loved me, maybe she never even cared. Maybe this is all a joke, and she’s laughing with the other Guardians over how silly little E. Aster Bunnymund is--” 

The Sandman shot up, and slapped the rabbit hard across the cheek, and then settled his little hands on his hips in a defiant expression. Bunnymund rubbed at his face, flexing his mouth. 

“Thanks,” he muttered, and Sandy nodded. “But where is she?” he asked in exasperation, sighing. “It’s been over an hour, and she still isn’t here yet!”

“Who isn’t here yet, Bunny?” asked Toothiana, flying in from overhead, her expression curious. She landed with a kind smile to both of them, but her brow furrowed at the pained expression on his face. “What’s wrong?” 

“I--” he began, and trailed off to wave slowly at North, who walked towards them happily, with a young boy kicking at the ground in tow. 

“Look!” the elder man called happily, gesturing to the squirming thing. “Look what I have found-- Jack Frost!” The boy wriggled from his grip vehemently, and took a quick bow. “He is winter sprite, yes?” 

“I thought there’s only ever one winter sprite at a time,” said Bunnymund in confusion, watching this boy. He had white hair, and blue eyes, and wore a frosted over cape. 

“Yes, and that winter sprite is Jack Frost,” he bit out at Bunnymund. The rabbit, who was unused to being spoken to in that manner (especially by blue eyed and white haired people), he leant forwards in irritation.

“Watch your tongue,” he snapped. “I am a Guardian, and you’re just some winter sp--” he broke off, attention torn by the shepherd’s crook clasped in Jack’s left hand. “Where did you get that?” 

“This?” he asked in confusion, looking down at it. “The Man in the Moon gave it to me,” he said, and spun it in his grip. “Makes your little throwing sticks look like a little donkey compared to my thoroughbred,” he declared. 

Bunnymund glared at him, “I’m not the one that’s an ass,” he hissed, as his mind slowly put two and two together-- missing for a week, the sudden appearance of Jack Frost, the shepherd’s crook...

“Get out of my Warren,” he declared, waving at the boy. Jack shrugged, and took of easily, flashing Toothiana a wink. 

“Bunny, that was harsh,” the Tooth Fairy began, reaching out to touch his shoulder. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it, really!” 

The Easter Bunny flinched away from her hand, and whirled to face them all. “All of you! Out!” he yelled, and they cringed at the echo his voice made across the valley. Toothiana flashed him a mournful look, and fluttered away in defeat. North looked at him in surprise, and tossed a snowglobe into the air, but not before sending him a look of disappointment. 

“You too, Sandy,” he murmured, but the small man simply pressed a leather drawstring pouch into his paw, giving him a sad nod, and shot off into the sky. Bunnymund looked down at the small bag, and sprinkled a few of the golden grains into the palm of his hand, before dropping them onto his eyelids. 

He fell into an instantaneous sleep, collapsing on the floor in a dead faint. Dream sand danced over his head, forming various shapes of two people holding hands, dancing, kissing... 

:

The night that Jack Frost saved the planet -- saved him -- Bunnymund loped back into the Warren a smile on his face that hadn’t been there for very nearly three hundred years. He was tired as he fell into bed, and his limbs ached, and his eyes burnt from fatigue. He hadn’t had a fight like that since when he was a young Pooka.