Disclaimer: if i owned this intellectual property, the movie would have had less plot holes.

=Bunny=

It started many hundreds of years ago, when the Piper brought a town full of children to the undying lands under the hills as a gift for your queen.

The Piper will be rewarded richly, as the queen has always longed for a child.

You can understand her desire, fae cannot easily bare children with each other and finding a mortal lover to marry only made the desperate fae mortal too. It is not a fate you would wish on anyone, least of all your queen.

As the party of children and fantastical creatures was about to vanish beneath the hills for another hundred years, a sink hole opened swallowing half of the royal guard, and a shape leapt from the earth.

Being a member of the queens guard yourself, you change into a wolf and leap upon the fool who dare attack the ruler of fae. You taste blood as you bite, but the wound is not deep enough to damage. For once in your extensive life, you find yourself flung aside.

You, the fiercest fighter in the realm who chews on rock giants for fun, overpowered by some mysterious assailant who quite easily dispatches the rest of the fae before rounding on the queen herself.

"You are not to touch these children," the figure growls, long ears twitching.

"I would have loved them, fed them treats and given them fine cloths-"

"And then when they tried to return home they would have turned to dust the second their feet touched mortal earth again."

Your queen is cowed. You are impressed.

The party is allowed to return to the fae realm, till the door opens again in one hundred years. The assailant's green eyes watch them go through, defeated and childless. The blood coating your teeth sparks on your tongue with a zesty earth flavored magic.

Next time you see the mysterious assailant is at Midsummer in Athens. The king and queen are fighting over some trivial matter concerning ownership of a boy given into the queen's care, and you have decided to avoid the crossfire by scouting out the wood in which the queen will be staying.

At first you see a furry form hunched over a patch of clover and think it might be a bear, but it senses you and straightens up, showing long ears. A bask lies beside him, half full of strange bristled twigs and small jars of color.

Stealth unnecessary, you stride from the greenery, every inch the fierce warrior. He has the gall to look unimpressed.

"The Queen of the Fae will be present in these woods tonight, leave now."

He leans back on his haunches and grins. Your eyes narrow.

"Is that so?" his voice lilts oddly, but your nature allows you the ability to communicate in all tongues.

Your hand (for you are human shaped at the moment) brushes against the stone dagger at your hip. You are eager for something, but you are not quite sure if it is for a fight.

He flicks an ear at you, nose twitching. "I hope she's not planning on stealin' any more kids?"

You wish to see his pelt at the foot of your bed, and every morning when it got dirty, you could take it out and beat it. Your voice is level as you speak.

"We are here for revelry only..." you trail off invitingly.

"El-ahraiah."

The sounds don't resonate properly. You frown. "That is not your true name."

He smirks. "You have to be trickier than that to get my true name, miss. I know about your kinds of magic."

The dagger is in the air before you consciously let it go, but the rabbit has vanished. A six pointed flower with waxy yellow petals and the basket are all the evidence that he was there at all.

You take them both with you when you return home. Not for any kind of sentimentality, of course, but a predator must know her prey in order to hunt.

The basket's contents are strange, but you spent an enjoyable few years painting the white stones of the riverbank red and blue, as well as the faces of any unwary fae asleep near your pasture.

You use the colors sparingly, but the jars were small and soon run out. You take the basket with you to the mortal plane at the end of the century. Your queen has decided to not venture out this time, but has allowed her subjects to wander at their leisure.

He may not have told you his true name, but you have tasted his blood. He cannot easily hide his location from you.

You find him across the sea in a prairie surrounded by miles of red grass and large lowing creatures with horns. His ears twitch at your arrival, but that is all. In his lap a bundle of papers tied loosely with yarn occupies his attention. He scratches a half burnt twig against it, leaving a pattern of black lines.

Creeping close, you offer the basket of empty jars. He glances down. "I see you are not returning the brushes."

"They were left behind, and so are mine," you counter. He tilts his head thoughtfully.

"So, why you here? It's obviously not to return my property."

You want to bare your wolf teeth and leap upon this uppity creature, but your errand keeps you civil. "I want more of those colors."

"Do you now?"

"Yes."

"Why not just steal some from the humans?"

"Their colors smell. Yours hold the true hue."

He idly scratches his head with a hind leg. "Well I'm rather occupied at the moment, so can't help you."

You bristle. "You don't look very busy."

"Well ya see, Brother Fox will be running up over the horizon in a minute cryin' something fierce about the sky falling. I would hate to miss the product of all my hard work. He makes such funny expressions, and I want to get this portrait just right."

You think on this, before sitting down. "It would be unfair of me to cheat you out of your pleasure, Mister Rabbit."

Brother Fox is a silly creature, but with enough cunning to gain some satisfaction out of tricking. He manages to catch your rabbit, but the sly fellow convinces the predator to throw him into a patch of briars where he easily escapes.

You laugh, and take the opportunity to slip away with his papers and charcoal while he is distracted. Jars of color can be gotten later.

You lay the papers against the stones you painted by your river, admiring the black sketches of flowers and landscapes. You imagine what the pictures would look like in color, and the artist skilled enough to paint such works.

You built a house of white quartz and encourage sweet clovers to grow around it. You turn into a rabbit and taste each root and leave before planting the most delicious in a corner of your valley. Rare plants of strange color and beauty are painstakingly sought out and arranged near the door. You don't touch the walls, but instead imagine what could be painted on them.

At the end of one hundred years, you find him in an arid land of sand, speaking with a large jackrabbit. The mortal beast starts at your arrival. You stamp, causing it to dart back underground into its warren.

"You didn't have to scare him away," he says.

You stamp your dark hooves, eyes flashing with red fire. "Why trouble myself with the cares of mortal creatures?"

"Then I would appreciate it if you did not scare my believers."

"You are a god then?" Curiosity concerning his nature has plagued you for more idle years than you care to count.

He shrugs. "I'm just a story, even to the rabbits."

The news is reassuring. Gods have restrictions set upon their nature which could complicate your plans.

"Well, little story, since you look unoccupied, could I ask a favor of you?"

"Yeah?"

"I just want some help painting my new house. The walls are white stone and rather boring. It wouldn't take more tan a day for you I'm sure."

He smirks. "And I suppose when I return, only one hundred years will have passed in the mortal world?"

Muscles flex along your horse's neck, tossing your mane to the opposite shoulder. "It is not that long. My home has many sweet grasses around it, and flowers unseen in the mortal world. Don't you want to come and see? Just for a moment, I promise."

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm quite content where I am thanks."

Disappointment does not creep through your heart, you foresaw the possibility of his refusal and planned accordingly. While not common for someone to refuse a kindly invitation from a Fae, it was not considered dishonorable to persuade your guests to come in other ways.

You nod, playing as if you had relented, and trot away. Mass ratios and velocity accelerations calculate themselves idly in your mind, before you rear and gallop towards the giant rabbit. Leaping into the air, your hooves gain claws and your teeth sharpen ready to snatch at soft fur.

You do not expect him to spin and catch your momentum, leaving you in a headlock against the dirt.

"Easy there, no need to get violent." His voice hardens in a way you do not like.

Needles prick the edges of your heart. Lungs labor under his weight, and you would change into something smaller to wriggle free, if not for the strange curved wooden weapon at your throat.

"I will care for you," you wheeze, "I speak truly of my home and the delightful wonders waiting there for you. Why don't you want to come home with me? I would cherish your presence, and you would be an honored guest and revered warrior among my people. Please, I ask again, come with me."

"No," his breath tickles against your ears. "Go home." The weight lifts, and you scramble to your feet, but he is already gone.

You do not sulk. The house of white stone needed to be removed because it blocked the view, and the gardens were right in the middle of a walking path you wanted to create. The papers being thrown into the river was an unlucky gust of wind, and the stones were much too gaudy to be let in the open. They looked much better at the bottom of a canyon.

The undying yellow flower, planted ages ago by the stream, remains untouched. You brush your nose across its waxy stem, so fragile and easily torn from the earth. It still smells of his magic. One chomp and it's nothing but a tingle on the back of your tongue.

You do not move much until the portal opens again. Your valley, tuned as only nature could to your emotions, has caused heavy scented purple flowers to sprout, coating your home with hyacinths.

You dig up as many as you can carry.

His home is not a place you have ever tried to find out of politeness, but you know what his magic tastes like now.

He is on the opposite side of the world when you come out of hiding with your burdens. You can't actually get into his home (the wards are quite strong), but you sense that this location has been used as an entrance many times. He would be able to see your gift here.

Your paws are muddy, and your fur caked with dirt, but the entrance to his burrow is painted purple with your apology. As a fellow creature of nature, you hope he will understand.

Next century you don't go out, however a small pixie who did gives you an egg painted with snowdrops and pink lilac. You ignore the silly creature's attempt to receive payment for the gift, and cradle the white shell between human palms, smiling.

It spoils eventually, like all mortal goods. You bury it in the ground beside the stream. It sprouts daffodils. You wonder if the valley is responding to your emotions or the magic of the egg. You hope it is his, un-requented love is such fun to manipulate...but you know better than to believe that.

Humans say that Fae have no souls to reach paradise and no heart to feel. You're not sure about the first, but the second is untrue. Emotions just come with the force of an ocean or not at all. Fae never did anything half way.

The valley fills with primrose.

You spend the next hundred years practicing your shape shifting to look like a large anthropomorphic rabbit. The forms separately are not unfamiliar to you, however combining the circulatory and digestive tracts of a human and rabbit proves to be trickier than you anticipated.

Your friend Pea-Blossom comments once on your behavior, and spends the next month walking with a limp.

When the day you may cross from the realm arrives, your queen bars the way.

"Dark shadows are stirring in the mortal realm. Tales of iron that travels through the air like horseflies have come to my attention, and until the shadow passes none may enter that realm."

Your whiskers wilt at the news, but hope springs eternal. Surely the human's squabbles could not last another hundred years?

You wait. You try to keep good cheer with poinsettia and the memories brought with the power of blue periwinkle. Before you realize it, the gate is open and barred to you once more. This time it is not just flies of iron, but carriages without horses that belch clouds of sickening black into the air. Even the household Brownies are hesitant to remain in the mortal plane.

You listen to their squeaky chatter of a green bird woman who collects teeth and hires fae helpers at a good starting salary of golden nectar and cheese. The don't know anything about large rabbits, except for the one that has taken over one of the old goddess's fertility festivals. You want to pry further, but the creatures scatter before you can catch one.

Another hundred years passes in the way you think mortals experience time: every moment stretching to an eternity of lonely lifetimes. Carolina roses cluster around your bed, warning of love's danger, but the primroses tug at your heart.

You turn into a hare, one of your smallest fastest forms, and hide beside the gate opening. Rumors have spread that the queen will seal the gate permanently, thanks to the rumors of nightmares running free once more. The Brownies gossiped that the bird woman had defeated the nightmare king, so there was nothing to fear, however no one listens to Brownies. They spent too much time close to humans.

You rush to the gate as it opens for the last time, ignoring the shapes which call you back. The way back will be shut to you now, you know this, but you cannot stand another empty moment. You feel your form stretch, enlarging into the shape you have practiced for countless years.

There is no one to say goodbye to as you step onto the mortal plane: the other Pooka were distant cousins at best, and lived in such seclusion from each other that seeing more than one in a space together was not a common occurrence.

There is too much metal in the world, and it burns against your senses as you step onto a dead path of ground that once was a lush hill enclosed valley. Humans have spread even this far, you think, before venturing out. You find him near one of the mortals black roads, watching the ugly iron and steel contraptions race and roar.

"Haven't seen you in a while," he says. In his hands are a lump of charred wood and a ream of papers.

"It is not as easy for fae to visit the mortal plane as it once was."

He nodded in understanding. "The world has changed a bit. Doesn't explain why you are here now."

You hop beside him, cautiously letting your shoulder brush his. "This is the last time I shall cross into the mortal realm."

His hands stilled. "So you're saying farewell."

"That all depends on you, I suppose. I only need to live in a place of magic to get by."

"Didn't your lot used to marry mortals and become humans?"

You tug on your ear, a gesture unbecoming of the fierce warrior you are. "There is no human I love to do that with."

"Tell me your name," he suddenly says.

You look up into his green eyes. Your mouth is dry. He could destroy you, or worse, enslave you with the knowledge of your true name. Your heart hammers and you think of primroses.

You tell him.

He smiles.

"The light is fading, so I can't sketch any more. Would you like to come home with me, or must you run off and enjoy your last day on earth?"

Your chest hurts and you resist running a hand over your eyes. "I don't think I would like anything more," you say, and follow him down the rabbit hole.

=Bunny=

From the rotg kink meme prompt: What is the movie universe became the book universe?

linki link to original prompt: rotg_kink: Round 3

Written in second person, because I once read a very interesting second person perspective story and I wanted to give it a shot. Let me know what you think! Yes, the fae in this chapter is an OC. I wanted to combine the idea that bunny is an idea given shape, and she is a mythical creature.

I plan to write a chapter for each character if I can think up enough.

Next Up: Tooth

Flower meanings:

Primrose: I cannot live without you

Hyacinth: I'm sorry

Snowdrop: acceptance

Daffodil: unrequented love