Chapter Text
He didn’t remember what he was like before
(light grey fur, twinkling hazel eyes, full of cheer and carefree laughter)
But he didn’t really care. What could compare to this? What could possibly be better than standing beside his Master, ready to do his bidding? There couldn’t be anything more delicious than the taste of the fleshlings terror? There was nothing better than the scent of bitter fear in his nose and the taste of coppery blood on his tongue.
His favorite victims were the small ones, the tiny fleshlings with their fluffy fur and high pitched screams. But there were no more small fleshlings. There were no fleshlings left at all.
Well, not quite.
There was one. But Master said that one was off limits to him and his fellow fearlings.
“That damn Pooka is mine,” Master had hissed. “He won’t escape me just because of the Tsar’s interference. I will have Aster Bunnymund’s head on my wall. I will get rid of the last of the Pooka.”
He had been disappointed at that order. Master wouldn’t let him (who was he again? He couldn’t even remember his own name anymore) have the fleshling, but orders were orders, and he would obey his Master. He had too.
(he didn’t want to. What Pitchner forced him to do horrified him. He was killing his own kind, does, bucks, kits, it didn’t matter, he had to kill everyone. The few moments of coherent thought he had he spent weeping for his victims. He was a monster )
But his Master was smart. After many years of searching, Master had found this Aster along with a new bunch of fleshlings. They had attacked the planet, seeking out the last of the pooka so they could finish the job they started so long ago.
But he had gathered allies. With these allies, the last of the fur fleshlings had fought back. Wielding a variety of light based weapons, they slaughtered his kin easily, slowly driving back the shadowy horde.
(he cheered them on even as he tried to kill them. He wanted nothing more than to be free of this nightmarish hell, to be punished for his sins)
In the end, even Master fell. The furless fleshlings sealed him away from Him and His kin. They were sealed as well, but away from master. They were sealed deep in the planet’s core, far from any of that delicious fear. For years they prowled in the dark. He had been so hungry, he just wanted to eat.
(he had been so relieved. This Aster was so smart and wise, he wouldn’t be able to ever escape and hurt anyone anymore)
But without any fear to fuel them, the fearlings had began to cannibalize their own kind. Consuming the others didn’t provide nearly as much sustenance as a fleshling’s fear, but it kept them alive.
(he didn’t want to be alive anymore, why couldn’t he just lay down and let the fearlings kill him like they did his family?)
However, he was clever. Over the years, he had eaten so many of the others, now he was strong. With each fearling he had consumed, he became a little smarter, a little more clever. He was so powerful, even more than he had been before. So one day, he managed to break through the seals holding him captive.
Finally, he was free to terrorize the fleshlings as he pleased. Unfortunately, the pooka and his allies discovered him fairly quickly. But he had spent months feeding on fear. He had been so careful not to create more of his kind, he knew that having an army of fearlings running around would just draw attention to him quicker.
By the time he was discovered, he was nearly as powerful as Master had been before they had managed to seal him away. It had taken them almost a month to find him and hold him down long enough to subdue him.
Unfortunately, unlike Master he didn’t have an army at his disposal, so he didn’t last long in a four verse one battle. He had managed to get a few good blows on the Pooka though.
(he felt terrible for that. He had grown to care greatly for Aster, the last of the pooka, he was just so smart and handsome it made his blackened heart skip a beat every time he saw him. And how could he not be attracted to the buck, his soul was so white and bright compared to his shriveled, broken thing. He was just a dirty, wretched fearling, what right did he have to love someone so perfect?)
But his loss had led him to his current predicament. The golden one had created a cage of sand to trap him, and they had left him in a grassy clearing. He hated it. The sand burned him, and he could feel himself weakening by the moment. He stood for as long as he could, but eventually his shadowy legs gave out from under him, and he crashed to the floor of his prison.
It was then he heard the voice. “You’re different from the others,” it had said. “You are smart, self aware. And even more oddly, you still have some remnants of your true mind. The Pooka you were is still in there somewhere.”
He snarled at this. He was not one of those weak little fleshlings that were killed so easily. He was a fearling, he was strong.
The voice chuckled. “You don’t like it, but it’s true. It would seem Pitch tried to make you intelligent so you could be more efficient, but that seems to have backfired. Somewhere in you, there is a trapped Pooka just waiting to be released. And I intend to free him.”
The sand prison fell around him, and he could see the wrecked clearing where he had battled the Pooka and his friends. Above him, the full moon hung full against the velvety blackness of space.
But before he could escape, light came from the moon, striking him. He roared in pain. This was even worse than the cage. It felt like he was being cooked from the inside out. The damned light burned away at his for, slowly tearing away his shadowy body. With what little strength he had, he thrashed and let out a horrid, unearthly scream, desperately calling for his kin or his Master to help him.
His pain lasted for hours. He stopped screaming after two or three hours, falling limp as the last of his strength left him. It wasn’t until it was nearly dawn that the agony stopped. When the light no longer hurt the voice (the moon. Was this the Tsar Pitchner had spoken of?) spoke again.
“Are you in control again, young one?”
He tried to lift his head to look up, but he didn’t have the strength. But to his absolute amazement, instead of the black swirling void that had previously made up his form, he was once again made of soft gray fur, blood, and muscle.
“How?” he croaked, and once again was blown away by the fact that he was in control. He could move his own body again.
The moon laughed. “You had already done most of the work, you just needed a little help to fully gain control.”
His eyes watered in gratitude. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“It was the least I could do. Saving even one pooka turned fearling is a great accomplishment. But now you have to make some decisions.”
He frowned, what decisions?
“You are once again a flesh and blood pooka, but there are still remnants of Pitch’s shadows in you. However, since they lost their grip on your mind, you can now hold them at bay. Your first choice is this: you can try to learn to control them yourself and possibly be able to use some of your fearling abilities and magic, but risk losing control and allowing them to rule you again. The second option is that I give you an object to completely suppress the fearling side of you.”
“The second,” he said immediately, “I can’t risk living like that for another moment, I’d rather die.”
“Very well. The next choice is what you want to do with your life from now on. Do you wish to reveal yourself to E. Aster Bunnymund? It would be understandable if you wished for time to yourself to adjust to your new life.”
He had to pause here. What did he want to do? He could show himself to the other buck, but would he accept him? He had killed so many of their kind. He was partially responsible for their inevitable extinction. He wouldn’t blame Aster for holding that against him.
“No. I can’t do that right now,” he whispered, “Maybe eventually, but I need time to recover and collect myself.”
“Very well. Give me a moment.”
He blinked as he felt something materialize around his neck.
“Ah, there we go,” the moon said, “That necklace will allow you to both repress the inner fearling and too hide your scent and true form. As long as you have it on, Aster will not be able to smell that you are a pooka, and it will assist you in holding whatever form you choose to use. There are two charms on the necklace. The black one for the fearling and the green for your scent. If you ever choose to reveal yourself to Aster, just crush the green charm and it’s magic will end.”
“Thank you so much,” he said again.
“Believe me, it’s my pleasure. My energy is fading, so just one last question. What is your name?”
He paused. He remembered his name now, but it felt wrong to use it. He was no longer that person, he was warped and broken now, nothing like the cheerful, happy buck he had once been.
“I don’t have one anymore,” he whispered.
“Hm, very well. Would you like me to give you one, or do you wish to go and find your own name?”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t think I could ever find something that would fit.”
“Very well. Let me think for a moment.”
The nameless pooka let out a deep breath. His entire body ached and hurt, but it was so much better than being controlled by a mindless monster.
“Jack. Jack Frost. That will be your name. It is rather fitting I think.”
Jack blinked, surprised at the name.
“Yeah, I guess it does.”
The moon laughed. “Good. Unfortunately I have you leave you Jack, purifying you took quite a bit of my energy. I don’t know when I will be able to speak to you again, but until then I wish you luck.”
The newly christened Jack Frost smiled, “Thank you.” The moonlight faded from the clearing, leaving him alone.