Chapter Text
“I think,” Abigail says carefully, “that you enjoy the fox a bit too much.”
Judy doesn’t bother to look up from her book, turning the page for effect (she’ll have to go back and re-read that bit, but it is worth it to prove how disinterested she truly is).
“I do not enjoy the fox. He is a fox, Abby. By nature, we do not enjoy one another.”
Her sister sighs. “And whoever decided on that rule? Hm? Our grandfather? His grandfather? His grandfather? All these rules we follow and you obsess over seem to have been created by our elders. We’ve never even met the men who came before you, and you’re the first woman to lead the Burrow in the first place. I say, old rules made by old men are meant—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Judy says, closing her book with a snap. “I won’t entertain this discussion a second longer. You have your language lesson to get to, I won’t have you being late again.”
Abigail huffs. “Fine. But you do enjoy Ser Wilde, and I won’t hear arguments to the contrary.” With a flourish, Abby lifts her skirts and exits. She has always needed to have the last word, and Judy has been more than accommodating – but about this...
She sets her book to the side. There are a dozen other things she needs to be doing this afternoon. Complete knowledge of the Burrow and how to run it is still not her strong suit. Since inheriting the proverbial helm from her grandfather some months prior, Judy has been struggling to manage. She can’t ask her own parents – they have their own land and laws to attend to. Her uncle has been less than helpful, considering he was passed over for his niece, of all rabbits, and her grandmother has not been well for many years. So Judy had brought her closest sister, all her books, and named her own advisers.
One of whom happened to be a fox. A rather annoying fox, she often thought after their meetings. Annoying. And funny, she supposed. Clever, she had decided. Well-versed in the laws of nobility, and the needs of the people. A transplant from the city, he had been named a Knight in King Lionheart’s court, and sent to advise the Lady Judith on matters concerning protection and, he did often tease, dragons. He had been in charge of bringing on the soldiers and trainees who would be devoted to her safety, and he had done an excellent job.
With a jolt, Judy remembers she has a meeting with said fox, just as the door opens to reveal one of the guards he had handpicked to stand outside her quarters.
“M’lady. Ser Wilde is here to see you.”
Judy nods, straightening her skirts as she stands. “See him into the library, please.”
“Of course, m’lady.” The guard excuses himself and Judy strides toward the mirror in her little study, righting the diadem nestled around the base of her ears. It had been a gift from her mother and father, an alternative to the large crown her grandfather had always worn. She didn’t wear it often, but during meetings, it gave her a sense of authority that she still didn’t quite feel she owned – the diadem made it hers, even if the mammal seated across from her didn’t agree.
Nicholas Wilde agreed, right from the start. His first words to her had been, “Finally, they did something right in one of these gussied up villages.” A woman, he had argued, would be a refreshing change of pace.
“And a leader not on the cusp of death,” he’d added, paw flourishing in the air between them, “is such a relief.”
“I assure you, Ser Wilde, I have no intention of dying.”
“I know that,” he’d teased. “And it’s Nick. Nicholas, if you’re feeling official.”
“Your title will suffice.”
“Yes,” he’d murmured, in a way Judy did not quite understand. “I suppose it will.”
He’s waiting for her in the library, and doesn’t even turn when she enters. He only says, “These aren’t your terrible books, are they?”
“Why it’s lovely to see you as well, Ser Wilde. And no, they are not.” She takes her place next to him, reaching out and snatching the volume from his paws. “I believe these were purchased by my great-great-grandfather.” She glances at the shelves. “If you search a little higher, I think we have a series on fox hunting.”
“Liar.”
“Perhaps.” Judy slides the book back into the place. “You wanted to discuss the guard schedule, did you not?”
“I did. Among a few other things.” He looks her up and down. “You’re wearing something different.”
Judy flushes. She’d allowed one of her older maids to dress her that morning – the ones who clung to the lifted skirts and tight bodices of the old days. Judy would not allowed them to pinch her ribs until she couldn’t breathe, but she had enjoyed walking around in something that seemed to bounce with her.
“I had no idea you had an eye for fashion.”
“I see you every week. I notice things.” He gestures for her to take a seat first before sitting down and taking out his notes. They discuss the schedules of the guards for well over an hour – the two can usually come to a begrudging agreement after a certain point, but today Judy seems to find herself being more…contrary than usual.
She blames her sister.
“I think that’s the best we’ll be able to do,” Wilde says tersely, putting his things away. “I don’t know why you’ve chosen to fight me about this,” he adds.
“There is no reason. We simply don’t agree.”
“Come now, Judith.” He always calls her that, had dispensed with the m’lady and Lady Hopps weeks ago. “You’ve got something buzzing around up there.”
“It’s none of your business,” she says, even though there is something in her that wants to make it his business. Like she wants him to know that her sister thinks her ladyship is rather fond of the argumentative, disagreeable fox.
She thinks, though, that he’ll push. That he’ll try to make it so.
He doesn’t.
“Then it is none of my business,” he says quietly, and stands. “I’m glad we could come to an agreement.”
“As am I.” She lifts her skirt. “You are dismissed, ser.”
“Thank you.” He gives a quick bow and exits the room swiftly.
Judy realizes then that her paws are clutching the fabric of her dress so tight, she’s wrinkled the folds.
When he had first come to her “court” – and she had been as reluctant then as she is now to even call it that – Nicholas Wilde had grated on Judy’s nerves straight away. He had a dozen atrocious nicknames for every one of her advisers, a few for her, and had planned on leaving after only a few weeks. He missed his post in the city, he missed his closeness with the king’s court, the freedom to do as he pleased –
Here, he’d argued, there were too many rules, too many restrictions, too many curfews and traditions. Judy could not argue, but she could not allow him the same lifestyle he’d lived under Lionheart’s supervision, or lack thereof.
And so, they had chafed at one another. They had bickered and argued – Judy wanted things done her way, Nick saw no sense in changing her grandfather’s methodology. While he felt a woman in power was a benefit to the Burrow at large, he saw no need for the overhaul that Judy did.
He had been brought around to her way of thinking, but not after she’d fired him twice, he’d stormed out of four meetings, and they’d screamed at one another so intensely that guards came running from three different wings.
All they had not done was fight with actual blades. It had taken an entire week to convince him to give her lessons.
“Your stance has improved,” he says to her now. A few days have passed since their meeting – whatever tension was there is no longer sparking between them, not any more than usual. They have a normal amount of tension Judy insists to her sister, who watches on from the shade of a rather large umbrella, drinking something bright pink from a large wine glass.
“Show ‘em, Judy!”
“Yes, Judy.” Nick smiles and unsheathes his practice sword. “Show me.”
“Ugh, you’re both horrible,” she mutters, but adjusts her riding pants and top as she prepares for their “duel.” Skirts, Nick had argued, were not meant for dueling.
Judy wishes her sister had stayed inside. All she’s done is complain about the heat, but Judy knows she’s only there to watch and tease, later. You are fond of the fox, you enjoy the fox, you—
Desire.
The word strikes like a blow, but neither has struck yet. Judy swallows. It is not appropriate, it is not right, it is not fair –
“Are you ready, Judith?”
“Whenever you are, Ser.”
He laughs. “I’ll never get a Nicholas out of you, will I?”
“Not so long as you refuse to admit defeat.”
“Well then.” He shifts his stance. “It will take some time, won’t it?”
They duel.
He wins, but not by much. They’re both panting at the end, her sword only falling from her grip because Judy is exhausted, she’s never pushed herself this hard before. From the corner of her eye, she can see Abigail watching, mouth ajar, horrid pink drink barely gripped in her paw. Nick tosses down his sword and swallows.
“We’re done for the day,” he says.
Judy breathes. “Abby. Go inside.”
“But I—”
“Go. Inside.” She turns to her sister with a quick twist, and Abby startles, nearly dropping her glass. She and her maid make themselves scarce, and Judy sends the guards posted around the area away as well. Nick only stares. “You and I must discuss something.”
“Like we did the other day? I’ve already fought you enough this morning, m’lady.” The word is nearly a snarl. “I think I’ve had my fill.”
“You asked what was on my mind.”
“I assumed it was one of a dozen ways to torture me,” he says dryly, pulling off his gloves. “You said it was none of my business. I’ve no intention of prying, Judy.”
“And you haven’t. I thought you might, but—”
He laughs. “Do you think so little of me? That I disrespect your privacy enough to dig at your thoughts until you give something up? I’m not your friend.” He bends to pick up the practice blades. “I am your sword, Lady Hopps, for as long as I am needed.” He bows. “Good day.”
He has turned away from her, and Judy knows if she doesn’t say it, she never will. She almost shouts at his retreating back: “I enjoy your company, Ser Wilde. Very much.”
The words still him. For a moment, there is nothing but the flap of a bird’s wings as it lands on the stone wall surrounding them. It coos gently. Judy wonders if the silence is a draw – she wonders if a flock of noisy birds will land at their feet, if only to make a nuisance of themselves.
“I have no idea what that means,” Nick says quietly. He still hasn’t turned to face her. “You enjoy my company. My company is satisfying, then? For a fox? My company is not so offensive? For a fox?”
“That was not what I said, don’t twist my words—”
“No one in this Burrow wants me here,” he says suddenly, turning to look at her. “Every time I go outside these walls, every rabbit in this place wants me to vanish.”
“I don’t,” Judy insists. “I have never asked you to—”
“You argue and you push!” He advances, now. “You are contrary and argumentative, you never can agree with me, you never can see things my way—”
“I’ve been that way my entire life, ask anyone who knows me—”
“Then what, pray tell, does I enjoy your company even mean, Lady Hopps, because I—”
“I am falling in love with you!” she shouts, and immediately covers her mouth. Everything about what they are, every breath that travels – it trembles. Nick stares, and Judy shakes.
“…Judy—”
“I…I must go.” She backs away. “Thank you for the lesson, Ser. And…and if you would like, you may leave the Burrow whenever you desire.”
Desire.
He leans the swords against the wall. “Don’t go.”
“I must, though. I’ve…I’ve said enough.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“Please, Ser, not another step.”
Nick freezes, watching as she continues to back toward the doors. “This isn’t over.”
“It is,” she says. “For today, it most certainly is.”
Though she excuses him from his duties, Nicholas Wilde does not leave.
Abby wants to know what happened, but Judy can’t bring herself to relive the moment any more than she already does. Her sister pries and pries and pries, and she must suspect – but she never gets to the heart of the matter.
It being that, speaking of hearts – Judy’s is no longer her own.
But Abigail can’t see that yet, and so she guesses at any number of things that could have been said.
And Nick –
He takes to calling her Lady Hopps.
All of their business is discussed in general advisory meetings.
He does not appear in her library.
And he does not insist upon their dueling class the next week.
Judy suddenly finds herself adrift in a foreign sea, struggling to stay afloat.
She has fallen for this fox, and suddenly, he is no longer there for her to ignore.
He is simply gone from her, and she has no idea what to do next.
And then, of course, her sister solves it.
“If you love him the way I think you do, then you mustn’t let this go on.”
“I don’t love him,” Judy insists, but the words are dry, like dead weeds sprouting on her tongue. “He won’t have me.”
“He should,” Abby says. “He’s not as attractive as you, he’s not as smart as you—”
“He is very handsome, and incredibly clever,” Judy snaps. “Don’t insult him.”
Her sister whistles. “You’ve got it bad, Jude.”
Judy groans. “I hate this.”
“Don’t hate this. Love this. And use your status. You’ve got the power to call a meeting.” Abby goes to dressing room, shuffling around and pulling out a dress. “Arrange a meeting, wear this—”
“That dress is not appropriate for a meeting. It’s a riding dress, what are you—”
“He appreciates you at your simplest, Judy. You are your most beautiful when you aren’t adorned in ribbons and folds of fabric. Let him see you, like he does when you train together.”
“And if it is all just…wasted. If he doesn’t love me back?”
Abby smiles, dropping a kiss on her sister’s forehead. “Then he’s a fool who doesn’t deserve a place in your court, because there is no one worthier of love than you.”
He is late for their meeting. Judy had almost not worn the diadem, but Abby had thrust it onto her head at the last minute.
“Simply dressed, yes, but you are still the Lady of this house.”
It weighs heavily on her. She wonders if he’ll come at all.
The door to the library opens, and a guard announces him. Judy stands, and Nick crosses the room, bows, and waits for her to have a seat.
Neither do. They stand in terrible silence, until the guard has left.
“Should I open the window?” she suddenly asks.
“Why?”
“I…to have something to do.”
“There isn’t a reason for this?” He does away with hierarchies and sits down. “I’m done playing games, Judith. If you want me to leave the Burrow, I’ll go. But you can’t…” He scrubs a paw over his face. “What you said—”
“I said that I loved you. It wasn’t a lie.”
“You said you were falling in love with me.”
“Yes,” she says. “And I believe the process is now complete.”
Nick snorts. “That quickly?”
Judy shrugs. “I think it was done some time ago, it’s simply taken a while for me to see.”
“How convenient,” he mutters.
Judy frowns. “Ser Wilde, if you are tired of me, or if you would rather not listen, then you may go. If you had never intended on it, then I don’t know why you bothered to show your face here at all—”
He stands, abruptly, and cross the space between them. It is an aggressive move, and her paws are suddenly in his. His snout is almost touching her own.
“Don’t you know?” he asks.
“…I do not.”
“You do, though.”
“Nick—”
“This is what I have to do, then? To get you to say my name? I have to throw my feelings at your feet? Bare myself to you like this? Should I scrawl the words all over the wall, next? Maybe in my own blood?”
“Don’t be vile—”
“I love you,” he snaps. “It has been torture these months. It happened so quickly, I hardly knew myself. I have never, I swore that I would never—”
“Never love?” Judy asks.
“No. Never fall like a fool. But you make me that way. You make me bicker and argue and fight and being able to pick up a sword against you, watch you throw yourself into every session…it was more than I could have hoped for. You gave me something to look forward to, because I thought it would be the only way to tell you how I felt.” He looks at the floor between them. “I am…an unsuitable match.”
“No, Nick—”
“I am, though. A fox, and a soldier. You’re nobility, you’re the one these people look up to. To see a fox by your side? How could I diminish you that way?”
“You don’t diminish me. Nick, please, don’t see yourself that. Don’t look at yourself like that, don’t talk about yourself like that—”
He pulls away. “Forgive me, m’lady. Forgive me for thinking that…that I could be good enough.”
“You are enough. Nick you are more than enough—” She grabs him.
She grabs him and brings him to her.
They collide. She kisses. He holds. His paws are warm and they tremble. The air sparks. A flame, a fire, a storm resides in them both.
She loves, she realizes. It is more than desire. It is more than fondness or enjoyment. And she’s said it, yes, but until this moment she did not know, did not understand –
How quickly she fell, how quickly she gave over her heart, and all without realizing –
I won’t diminish you.
“Oh, Nick.”
He trembles. All of him.
“You deserve better,” he says. “I…let my heart get away from me. That was my mistake. Please, forgive me.”
“But you—” He pulls back, and Judy reaches, misses, and finds herself at a loss. She holds her body like she has been wounded, and here, she realizes, she has been. The pain of this, of watching him walk away, knowing that he will leave the Burrow, return to the city, and never be hers –
It is a physical ache. It suddenly lives in her and takes up in her bones and she gasps for air.
She has never had her heart broken before, but – she does wonder.
Can it be broken, when it is no longer in her possession?