A little one shot of awkward angst. Enjoy.

I don't own Rise of the Guardians

It had been so were all fighting their own battles, separate but still within reach if another Guardians needed aid, when Pitch had shown up.
Before that it had just been his nightmares, they were weak but huge in number and were used mainly to tire the guardians out. Then came the Fearlings, large, brutish monsters that posed a little more of a problem for the guardians but not by much.
When Pitch arrived he began attacking the youngest of the guardians first. He faced Jack, armed with a scythe of nightmare sand that would occasionally morph into other weapons depending on its masters wishes.

It was only after the battle was finished that they realized that, while pitch had been defeated, Jack was nowhere in sight. Though they were wounded the guardians spread out to search for the missing frost sprite, coming running at Bunny's cry of pain.
Bowling into the little clearing, not that it really could be called that as it was not really any bigger than a gap between five trees, the guardians rushed in expecting an attack only to come to a halt at the sight that lay before them.

Bunny was sitting on the frost-covered ground, resting against a tree and cradling the body of Jack frost in his arms. Only Jack looked different, one side of his neck and face was covered with dark vines which disappeared under the hem of his jacket hoodie. He had been covered in a multitude of cuts and scratches and dark skin was visible through the cuts in his clothing.
Bunny was nuzzling into the crook of Jack's neck, snuffling softly as he searched for a pulse and letting out a high keen when he didn't find one. His ears were tight against his head and for the longest time he had simply sat there, cradling the prone form close and letting out threatening growls at any who dared come close to the body of his precious Frostbite.

It had been a little known fact that Pooka heard a song in their souls that would one day lead them to their mate.
The song was part of them, always at the edge of their conscious and threading through every dream. Jack had been his song mate, that had been shown months after the first defeat of Pitch when Aster had caught Jack singing in the shower at Santoff Clausen and the song had resonated so deeply within him despite the horrid off-tones that plagued the piece.
It had been like magic for Aster, having a mate again. This time a mate that he could share his heart-song with, which was something that couldn't be done with someone he wasn't soul bonded with, such as with his Pooka mate that had died so many centuries before.

Aster was grateful that he had gotten to share a few last sweet words with Jack before the spirit died, the cry of pain ripped from his throat a moment later full of anguish and loathing towards Pitch, who had now taken two of his mates from him. It wasn't fair.
Eventually Aster was coaxed away from that shady spot, still cradling Jacks limp body close as he was guided through the portal to Santoff Clausen. They had a funeral to plan.

Aster looked broken. He was, losing a second mate had been hard on him and it was even harder knowing that his mate was also a fellow guardian.
He couldn't even attend the funeral, he broke down at the mere thought of his Jackie's body being lowered into the ground and covered over. He knew that the tunnels of his warren would never be filled with the ringing laughter of Jacks laughter or the cold winds that followed the winter spirit wherever he flew. If a spirit died they were reborn again, given a chance at a life they were denied by becoming a spirit, but they almost always died without regaining their spirit power.

It took Aster three years to come out of the warren for anything other than Easter. Even then he didn't really talk with any of the other guardians unless it was necessary, though he did call on Sandy more often than the others, sounding desperate as he begged the Dreamweaver for a dreamless sleep so that he wouldn't wake reaching for a form that was never going to be there.
he was being driven mad and he needed a good sleep to keep himself sane.

After a decade, Aster had calmed a little. His once vibrant eyes were dull and had little of the fiery spark that had drawn jack to him and had been ignited many, many times by the frosty spirits sass. He still seemed tired, slightly hunched and while he was still able to move impossibly fast he seemed worrying lethargic.
It reminded North of those first few centuries after Pitch had committed genocide on Asters race. That was worrying.

It was another ten years before anything happened.

Aster looked ragged, more tired than he had in years but there was an almost manic gleam in his eye as he made his way toward Santoff Clausen with more energy than he had been able to muster since Jacks funeral.
He burst through the front door of Santoff Clausen, starting the yeti that was at the door and making the large fur ball stumble back. All Aster heard was an indignant yell as he streaked past, nothing more than a blur as he moved through the workshop towards North's personal workshop.

Slamming the door open, the heavy door bouncing off the walls with a echoing thunk but not getting far due to the large paw keeping it in place, Aster stood in the doorway panting and looking at the startled North from under rather unkempt fur "I can feel it"
"What are you talking of, my friend?" North stood, making his way over to the pooka, who he could see was faintly shaking. Aster looked up at him with a smirk, an echo of the smirks that lifted his lips when Jack was still with them. he paused, straightening up and regarding North for a moment before speaking so quietly North thought he was hearing things.

"The heart-song, I can feel it. Jack's been reborn"