It was deathly quiet between the deafening din, as though no echo existed, only instances of sound organized so nicely into perusable chunks of order.
Nick could hear so much… like Foxy's pacing tirade that it was somehow Nick's fault that he was shot. He stood over his own indisposed body… twitching but otherwise still, if bleeding from a head wound. He looked at Foxy… a few of them, actually, like wisps of possibilities only ever actualizing in time with whatever noise he made. He could feel the carpet pressed to one side of his body, how he lay twisted and gawking at open space, at a room he'd just cased for hiding spots and escapes… in the likely event that things got dicey.
And then he saw her. Esther. Garbed solely in his silk purple shirt partly buttoned such that it hung off a shoulder, and she was seated upon the desk with one bare leg crossed over the other (her winged-heart tattoo peeking through the shirt's opening).
Cherries…
"No tears this time, Blue?" she asked, much more coyly than their previous encounter yet still so wonderfully kind.
That depends on the next few answers, I guess…
"Oh? Then fire away."
Are you dead?
She tittered behind an unbuttoned cuff and rolled her vibrant, ethereally blue eyes.
I suppose you would be too sly for that. Am I dead?
"No, I'd say not, thanks to that fancy hat Chess made for you," Esther said, pointing to where it landed on the floor after being shot off high into the air and far abreast of him, taking with it the lethal force of its impact. Nick examined it, picking up… a facsimile to once more don it, finding that the bullet lodged into the reinforced skull-cap hidden inside the hat itself matched exactly with the searing pain in his noggin. "That was a close one," she remarked with a sigh of relief.
I'm going to feel that in the morning if I'm lucky. He tossed the projection of headwear back on the ground, assuming wherever it might've landed (because he definitely didn't feel it on his head). There was then a dull collision of metal on wood and found that the gun was set heavily on the desk. And then there was harried breathing, which meant that Foxy was checking out his supposed corpse. Without a pool of blood, I'm probably alive; my heart's still beating, that much is certain, he observed, noting the casual un-crossing and recrossing of his mate's legs, I hope I'm not choking on my own tongue. Let's mark one miracle for not hitting the desk on my way to the floor, at least.
"That gunshot should have alerted Judy," Esther supposed, looking toward the window, "hopefully, the bat carrying her can fly in before Foxy realizes that you're not yet dead."
A 'flying fox', if I recall correctly, one of those 'megabats' as big as a hawk, plenty strong to fly a bunny around. A friend of a friend from Bonnie's piloting school, Nick remembered with peculiar clarity, Now all we need is the clatter of that window-
"There she is!" Esther cheered, right on cue with the crash of an armored rabbit (similarly suited to Nick, if topped with a newsboy cap for ease of her ears) barreling through an unlatched window at break-neck speed after being slingshot by a hawk-sized bat, "And Foxy's cry of surprise means she caught him off guard."
Good, good. I'd say that Judy is always a miracle; mark that as number two, Nick decided, watching a few possibilities of various Judys and Foxys tussling about the office, all of them resulting in his apprehension, Oh, he's scrambling for the gun and firing widely, too bad his ugly furniture is in the way. I'll need the play-by-play when I'm conscious, it sounds awful exciting. So… what's happening here, exactly? How am I able to, I dunno, predict this stuff?
Esther stood beside him (without ever taking a step) and gently bushwacked his haunches, her own haunches exaggerating the motion; her tattoo was wholly visible. "Tut tut, Blue, you're not 'predicting' a single thing, you're calculating, all mammals do it intuitively, not that we ever notice; every time we throw a ball or hop over a puddle, we perform calculus to tell our bodies where to grab or step. Foxes do it more and in ways that baffle anyone on the outside looking in; like our innate sense for North. It's why we were so often seen as witches and can't seem to fit into normal society, we don't perceive it in the same way," she extrapolated, "You may not be fully awake right now but you're still alive, still observing your surroundings while your subconscious processes it all for the thinking part of your brain; peeking behind the curtain, as it were. That's just how foxes developed, passed down from one community to the next through the ages, learning from their parents, and teaching their kits through constant, passive demonstration." She then patiently sighed. "You are teetering on the edge of death, though, so Judy had better wrap this up quickly."
I've been here before…
"When you first ate the Night Howler whipped cream back in Giddy's apartment," Esther agreed, and for a moment, a faded memory of rich purple encircled them as Nick spilled out everything to a fox he'd only met that night… at least, thought he did. Turns out the conversation never happened so it then corrected to show that he'd actually fallen to the floor, nearly dead, and was resuscitated. "Your entire life flashes before your eyes when on the brink of death," she continued, "some say it's the light of Heaven, others say it's every neuron in your brain firing off simultaneously."
Well, which is it?
"You're not dead so you can't know," she teased and tapped his nose, "but that's not the important question right now."
You're saying I can take this time to look back on my entire life if I were so inclined.
"In a way. Astronomers say that, if you could stand on the rim of a black hole and turn around, you would see the entirety of the universe from where you stood," she riddled, and as she did, a slightly later memory formed, a red memory from when a stone-cold sleeping Gideon locked Nick in a snuggle… with only his Dawson to keep him company. "I enjoyed this~"
You said that I wasn't taking a victory lap back then, that 'the light hadn't even turned green yet'. What could I have possibly figured out all the way back then?
"Typical," she mused, pressing to his back with her arms wrapped under his shoulders, whispering in his ear as a green light formed in the cup of her paws against his chest, "you figured out the answer before knowing the question."
So… what's the question, then?
Esther and her embrace had disappeared… replaced by a lion whose meteoric drop shook everything above and below. He was bigger than any lion or mammal had any right to be, even in a full squat his knees came up to the fox's head and though Nick couldn't see him… he was pretty sure that the lion wore his palm-frond shirt and striped tie. Dawson leaned in until his smug grin was at the fox's shoulder. "Why keep it a secret?"
Foxy knows who the Lionheart Heir is, he's known it… all my life…
"That'd be miracle number three."
Air filled Nick's lungs again, so he coughed and heaved and jerked awake. He then smacked his lips and focused his eyes on the bunny whose kiss-of-life just saved his sorry tail. "Carrots…" he complained.
"Slick!" she rejoiced and sprung up to hug his neck. It was unfair how hard it was to stay mad at her so he rubbed her back in gratitude (and even bothered to give her a tender squeeze).
"No, you taste of carrots," he grimaced and wiped his mouth, to which she swatted his shoulder, "Ow, hey! Not so rough, I'm injured." A cautious paw raised to touch at a cleaned, field-dressed flesh wound and the throbbing area surrounding it; he winced and hissed. An ice pack was provided (no doubt cobbled together from Mr. Never's hard spirits collection and handkerchief) and the refreshing cold was a welcome relief.
"Next time, I'll be sure to eat onions before administering CPR," Judy warned but couldn't help smiling, "Second window from the right, just like we planned. The bat nearly freaked after launching me but I slipped straight on through without a problem," and demonstrated her acrobatics with a paw slicing through the air.
Nick groaned and smiled as he gathered himself and was aided to his feet by his partner in justice. "I couldn't get to the silent alarm for the signal, so I improvised." He then noticed that Mr. Never had been bound and muzzled with zip-ties. "Quick work, Ms. Bunnytail," he commended, staggered, and then braced the nearby chair for balance.
"Careful, partner," Judy instructed, easing him into said chair, "you were just shot in the head, that's enough to send anyone for a loop."
The fox nodded and took a breath… noticed a glass of water and helped himself to it. He then noticed the warped, protective fedora he previously wore and examined its lodged bullet with an arch of his eyebrows, only to lethargically set it down near the drink. "Go ahead and cut his muzzle, he and I need to be frank about a few things," he groggily requested and the bunny was apt to comply with a flick of the knife she found on his desk.
"Alright, Mr. Loxley, just don't move and I'll try not to stab you… and there we are."
Foxy belched a groan. "'Ms. Bunnytail'?" he asked with derision.
"Lagurus ovatus," Judy happily expounded, "a flowering grass with cotton-soft blossoms that resemble a bunny's tail," and demonstrated by wiggling her own, "Since Nick is going by 'Mr. Foxglove', I came up with-"
"I don't care!" he barked and flopped onto the carpet again.
"Sit him up, please?" Nick then requested, rolling the ice about on his skull some more, "And undo his feet, too, he's not going anywhere." Judy complied if a bit saltily toward the glowering Under-Mayor. Nick set the cold pack down after a heavy breath and picked up the poster tube to half-heartedly tug at the lid. "How does it open?" he asked without ambition.
Foxy was propped up against a footstool, paws still bound behind his back. He leered with all the vindictiveness still in him. "You need the full name of the Lionheart Heir," he boasted, "speak it close enough to get through the casing and it'll come right off. Good luck ever getting it out of me."
"Uh huh…" Nick grunted and then enunciated a whisper into his cupped paw, his lips practically touching the tube. The lid disengaged with a soft hiss but it was not the only popped top in the room.
"No!" Foxy shrieked and thrashed, "No no no no no!"
Judy stood stunned but then gleed, her ears vibrating like the wings of a cricket, dashing to her partner's side. "Okay, I know you'll lord it over Foxy pretty soon but please tell me how you figured it out!" the bunny implored, up on her tiptoes and batting her eyelashes while gripping his arm, "I'm not even annoyed that you finally managed to sneak something past me~"
Nick chuckled and slid the pardon out just far enough for confirmation before securing it again (Judy hopped back to sit next to Foxy like a kit at storytime). "It wasn't easy," he admitted and took another drink of water, the older tod nearly brought to tears with indignance as his toes and lips curled until every sharp part of him was bared, "took a bullet to the head and whatever it was Magnus's NH stuff did to me when I ate it several months ago to figure it all out. I guess brushing with death really does bring out the fox in you.
"The biggest thing that I couldn't put my finger on was why bother keeping the Lionheart Heir a secret?" Nick posited, "You could have strolled into the Liondon Parliament and upheaved the whole lot of it, especially if said heir was following you by your tail. Or… you could have indebted the entire Mallupe pack into servitude with that pardon and there was little MacGrim or Kela could say against you. Were you just waiting for the opportune moment?" he poised but shook his head with a denying grunt, "I realized that you've been trying to tie your strings around whoever this heir is for… oh… the past thirty-plus years? Y'see…
"Mom knew you were obsessed with whoever the Loxleys were, some supposed 'fox nobility' from the time of King Richard, and found all sorts of stuff about them. Little known fact: lions and foxes actually had a pretty decent history, once upon a time, most notably between him and his adopted niece, Maid Marian," he explained and lounged in the chair as best he could, "I reckon you uncovered some juicy nugget worth killing for, so you then were obsessed with Mom; a rare genetic trait of specific green eye-flecks and a chromosomal blood disorder - like muscular hyperatrophy - make for great genetic trackers. You called in a favor to peek at her hereditary test and compared it with whatever Loxley DNA was available; rumor is that lockets of fur as keepsakes were very popular back then," Nick continued, "With her pedigree in paw, you courted Mom but she couldn't have kits… or so you thought.
"Dad did everything he could to keep his family safe from you, especially after you found out that the Loxley lineage passed onto me," he said and touched his chest, "and then you saw another chance to get in with the real Loxleys - for whatever that was worth - by mating me with Fuchsia, your firstborn. That worked about as well as a screen door on a submarine, so skip forward a few decades and we come to tonight with you wanting me to court her yet again. I assumed you did it to generate some dirt on me for blackmailing purposes," he said and then chuckled, "Not to brag, but as I am the first fox cop, it's paramount that I keep my nose (mostly) clean, what with the whole of the city watching my every move. Whether I like it or not, there are a lot of little kits who look up to me as a role model."
Judy proudly bumped her shoulder into Foxy's elbow, to which he recoiled and harrumphed.
Nick paused a moment to reminisce. "Essy and I have matching tattoos, 'Hail the King Robin', a black-winged, gold-crowned, red heart that's very popular in just about every fox community. Never really knew why since there's always some duality with foxes, some other reason for a thing… and what a strange coincidence that the romance between Robin of Loxley and Maid Marian of Lionheart is the oldest recorded story of 'Mr. & Mrs. Fox'. " Nick then leaned forward to stare directly at Foxy with as sly and smug a smirk as he could give (Judy only just managed to contain her electric anticipation), "It's why you couldn't tell anyone about the Lionheart Heir and why you needed Honest John 'killed in an accident', isn't it? He discovered it and you had to protect your precious secret… a secret so great and terrible that's been passed down through the ages from one fox community to the next, hidden in plain sight as a winged-heart…
"Robin of Loxley was crowned king after Richard the Lionheart," Nick professed, "and as his descendent, I am the Lionheart Heir."
Judy kicked her feet on the ground and nearly bounced off the ceiling.
Foxy's only sign of life was a dull blink. "Untie me," he surrendered.
Nick exchanged a glance with Judy, and then nodded so that she would cut his binds.
Foxy rubbed his wrists and wearily climbed to his feet. "After his brother was imprisoned for treason, et cetera, Richard had to protect the crown from any of offspring who sought revenge, since his cubs were killed in the Crusades and his grandcubs had no more legit claim than their older cousins," he dully recounted, sitting once again at his desk and pausing to find that a bunny-sized phone streamed a sunburst of data all over the expansive touch-screen, "What the heck is this?"
"Your desk is Knotash tech and I have a backdoor," Judy boasted, hopping up into Nick's lap to smugly lounge (he grunted and affixed the icepack), "as of tonight, I'm the only one with access. Maybe if you didn't use pirated software, you would have gotten the most recent patch to protect from such things, in light of what Magnus did with the Hexward servers. Took a while to connect, so thank you for being quietly tied up while it happened. Behave and I might give it back." She held up a fist and her partner weakly bumped it. "Boom."
"Boom," Nick repeated.
The old tod growled, simmered between the rabbit and her phone, and then grumbled to peruse his deepest archives, presenting them on a screen. "Whatever. I've waited decades to tell the world about the fox who was crowned king but no, Nick couldn't bring himself to cooperate. Guess this will have to do…
"King Richard reclaimed his kingdom and did what any sensible monarch would: he secured the crown. He couldn't trust any extended family, not with Prince John's sympathizers lurking in every corner of his court, waiting for the opportunity to seize power, so, the next thing he did was the craziest in all of recorded history: he appointed a fox as steward of the realm. When Richard died, Robin became king. This was only possible because Marian was adopted into the royal family but the Loxleys were actually of noble blood, and I'm sure saving the kingdom helped in his popularity.
"More importantly," Foxy continued, his weariness perpetuating as he went through the documentation, King Robin and Queen Marian depicted in their full majesty (his green-specked, brown eyes plainly depicted in the painting), "Maid Marian was Richard's niece in name only. His youngest son, Philion, fell in love with a widowed fox named 'Amelia', who was with kit," he explained, blandly pausing at the resulting surprise, "'Marian' was made a ward of Richard's court and he told everyone she was his niece to protect his son and daughter-in-law from scandal. That's all the useful stuff I could find on Robin and Marian but apparently they were kind and beloved rulers, et cetera, until-"
"Wait!" Judy then requested, vaulting to her feet and pointing at the screen, "Who's that?"
The disgruntled Under-Mayor looked and sighed to rub his forehead. "I've only got the eye-witness accounts of a friar to go on but his name is 'Billy Hopps'; maybe an ancestor of yours, I neither know or care, all you bunnies are the same to me," Foxy grumbled, glanced around the screen at her imploring eyes (and Nick's expectant glare), and so continued, "He was better known as 'Skippy' and, at the tender age of seven, was entrusted with the poor Hopps family's entire wealth of… a single farthing. Everyone older or more responsible was off growing crops for the Crusades, so it was up to him to keep things running at home. At some point, the engorged Sheriff of Knottingham (near the Royal Forest of Sherwood, where the poor rabbit families lived at the time) came by with all his wolves to collect on the already over-taxed farms, so Skippy offered up that that single farthing as payment; it wasn't enough, obviously, but as luck would have it," he snickered, "a blind, old beggar just so happened to wander by and gave his alms to help pay their taxes. Turns out his cup had some half-crowns in it but being blind, he didn't know that."
"Yeah-huh," Nick snarked, and perhaps for the first time in either of their lives, he exchanged a knowing smirk with Foxy.
"It was Robin of Loxley in disguise, or as he was more commonly known, 'Robin Hood'," Foxy agreed, "He was passing near Knottinghamshire with his Merry Band and decided to intervene, using gold he'd 'liberated' from Prince John's tax collectors, and while the bunnies were so grateful for his kindness, he was impressed by Skippy's bravery; so much so that he pickpocketed the farthing and returned it the family (who insisted he keep it for good luck). Long story short, he took the bunny under his wing while staying close by to protect his family, and Skippy became his protégé in defeating the self-crowned, Prince John. After the Crusades, and all the bunnies returned home, Skippy joined Robin's new Merry Band, as protectors of the steward; according to Friar Tuck, who wrote this, his skill with the blade was unparalleled in the kingdom and due to his close association with foxes, earned the moniker 'Will Scarlet'. So, maybe you aren't his descendent-"
Judy's glee reached such a pitch that it almost caused discomfort to the nearby canines.
"Or maybe you are? I don't know-"
"What happened to him?" she both pleaded and demanded, nearly climbing onto the desk.
"Alright, Fluff-butt, calm down," Nick berated and grabbed her by the haunches to pull her back into his lap.
Foxy cleared his throat, skimming the documents. "He was appointed as captain of Robin's private guard but it was more an honorary title… the farthing he received when he was seven was made into a four-leaf-clover as a badge for the grown-up Skippy… He trained all of his and Marian's kits in use of the sword and… apparently could hear assassins from a mile off, making the eventually crowned King Robin nearly untouchable (he was on his sixth kit at that point, if you can believe it)," the old fox mumbled, glancing at Judy's still brilliant eyes as they read the screen, waiting for him each time he scrolled, "Anyway, an assassin finally managed to get past Skippy's defenses by shooting a crossbow from outside his hearing range and so Skippy threw himself into the bolt's path which I figured popped the 'honorary badge' off his chest."
Both Nick and Judy expressed their rapt shock in their own ways if one by far more audibly than the other. "The 'Scarlet Clover'…" she recognized.
"Rumor has it that the original broken clover is still out there somewhere. What I wouldn't do to get my paws around a token that a rabbit gave their life for a fox…" Foxy lamented and then tsk'd, "That old badger, Friar Tuck, then claims that King Robin pinned the sniper's ear to the trunk of the tree they hid in with an arrow; just whipped out his longbow and shot from the hip but that's absurd, no one's that good," he scoffed, "Since we're here, I might as well bring it all full circle: the assassin was a Mallupe."
"What?" Nick exclaimed.
"Is that why their family was exiled?" Judy inquired.
Foxy actually laughed. "Calm down, kits. King Robin had Mallupe arrested for killing his widdle bunny fwiend but their punishment was to give the final eulogy at his funeral (according to the good Friar)," he explained and waited for the cringing to stop, "Prince John exiled the Mallupes for treason because they were the only wolf pack in the entire kingdom who stayed loyal to King Richard instead of joining the Sheriff of Knottingham's ranks; turns out Pack Law protected them from execution. The sniper agreed to assassinate King Robin to free their pack." He stopped and stole a drink of water from the glass. "Mallupe pleaded their case before the court and I guess there was a blank, signed pardon from King Richard lying around that could override the exile from his brother.
"Too bad news of the failed assassination brought out the real foxhounds," Foxy resented, "mercenaries dedicated to the capture and killing of foxes; not many nowadays but back then, they were in high demand. This last bit is speculation, for obvious reasons, but I figure the ink wasn't dry on that pardon before they were attacked, and the only thing Robin and Marian could do is scatter their children to the winds with confidantes. They capped out at twelve kits but from what little I could gather about them, only two survived the foxhunt: a son and a daughter, separated to different corners of the planet but never seen again. I think it was the Mallupe who rescued all the paintings and documents, hiding them in their exile before Zootopia grew over the treasure trove in the centuries to come. They waited six-hundred years for that pardon as all of history burned to hide the fox who sat on the Lionheart throne."
Mr. Never closed his archives and lounged again in his chair, taking out a cigar to sniff it, snip the tip, light it, puff, and exhale in his comfort.
Judy huffed. "You could have saved them a long time ago, Foxy," she chastised.
He shrugged. "I have my own self-interests to look after, Ms. Bunnytail," he replied, eyes surveying the damage he caused with his revolver, "So, since you two upstanding cops probably don't have a warrant and attacked a city official in his office, what say we all walk away, let bygones be bygones?"
She huffed again. Nick tossed his icepack where he picked up his deformed hat. Judy then stood to address her phone and deactivate the lock. He joined her in their departure, jutting a thumb in a general direction. "Mind buzzing us out?"
The Under-Mayor reached beneath his desk to activate the secret escape door and then shooed them off. "Have fun, kits," he bid but then growled when the Mallupe Pardon was tucked under an arm, "Hey…"
Nick smirked over his shoulder as he turned. "You gave this to me, remember?" he reminded and tapped his bandaged brow in a salute, "I'll be sure to stop by Fuchsia's sometime soon, join her and her mate for a game of cards, or something. Ciao."
Mr. Foxglove and Ms. Bunnytail departed the lavish office.
Her ears then scanned when the door secured behind them. "So… we're just going to…?" she implied and nodded behind them.
"Nothing more we can do," he assured, "If Foxy's in league with Magnus and everyone else we've fought so far, then he's got the legal vultures of Shyster & Sharky waiting in the wings." The fox then grinned his proudest. "Excellent bluff, by the way, I believed you only until a few seconds ago."
Judy shrugged quite pompously and pulled her coat out far enough to show the phone tucked into a breast pocket. "That's because it was only half a bluff; he could've unlocked it by physically removing the phone," the bunny humbly boasted, "All the stuff he showed us is on here. Still, that's a lot of stolen history," she further implied, the anticipation in her voice nearly palpable as she closed her coat again.
"And we'll get it soon enough when it's collected as evidence," he placated, "Cool Wahly already said that the Under-Mayor Office passed the audit but from what I saw in there?" the fox almost gawked, "Do you know how much a wool rug like that costs? Nuh-uh, my tax dollars aren't paying for an unelected someone else's lap of luxury. I'll convince Mayor Foliage to reopen it. If Foxy wants to suck on the public dime, then he'll get the full brunt of public scrutiny."
"Which means," Judy added, "revealing him as 'the late Felix Loxley' along with a whole slew of tax evasion charges (and who knows what else?). Pretty sneaky, Slick," she commended and then got very proper, pausing in their gait to sweep into as fancy a bow as she could, even letting the tips of her ears brush the ground, "or should I say… 'Your Majesty, King Slick'?"
'King Slick' dryly laughed. "Funny bunny; you're funny," he snarled, "The fact that I'm the Lionheart Heir won't mean a hill of beans to Liondon's Council of Ministers. Maybe they'll accept my signature on this pardon and maybe they'll let the Mallupes free but we'll need to fast-track that audit at light speed just to get all the physical proof in his vault to turn their heads toward Reino del Sol-" He then paused, the arm extended in a gesture falling to his side.
The rabbit had another bit of snark readied but, instead, studied his face. She smiled, feeling that tingle in the back of her skull.
"I'm royalty," Nick realized, "which means… Esther is carrying a royal kit…"
"Zevon Supai abducted her when she was pregnant with that royal kit," Judy also realized, "The World Heraldry Society has to intervene!"
"Exactly!"
"We need to get on a plane to Liondon!"
"Wrong!"
Judy reeled.
Nick grinned and drummed his claws on the poster tube, his tail swatting the air behind him. "We're bringing Liondon here, to Zootopia. If I can just get them into a room and work the right hustle…"
Her incredulity shifted at his arching eyebrows, finger wagging in thought. "I'll ask Dad to contact any of his siblings or cousins in Liondon; it should be easy enough to direct the Ministers if we had a really big something… but with the TBR and Luau come and gone, what else can we-?"
"Ms. Bunnytail," he endeared, "I think we both know a guy who can get the job done."
"Esther always had contingency plans," Ira Bagh had told Nick, and his law partner, John Little, agreed, "it's why she made a much better researcher of the law than practitioner; she does exceptionally when called into the ZPD as a public defender, though. Perhaps her biggest hurdle to the courtroom was just going with the flow and why she's on John's team, to learn how best to do it. Before Emperor Zevon snatched her away, she set up a timed voice message to call my phone if she didn't stop it from happening. 'Paranoia keeps you alive', she said. It also explained that she was, in fact, with kit and got about as much of a positive test result as you can get so early into a pregnancy. We even have her doctor's verification but… explain your plan, again…?"
Yzla Supai wept over her laptop, barely consoled by her private bodyguards, Poc and Tez (notably not in their dance outfits but proper suits). Her neck twisted about as the bedroom doors opened, just on time. "Oh, Tamaya! I'm sorry, I don't think I'm up to dance today…"
"What's wrong?" Esther asked, hurrying over to comfort the llama princess, glancing around her at the laptop. Their infrequent dance rehearsals inched her claw tips ever closer to the keyboard… she'd only need a half-a-minute to type out a message on Judy's FuzzBook page…
The long nose was blown into a tissue as the jaguars on either side of her provided half-hearted support. "Simon's getting married!" she bawled and then bawled again.
Blue eyes exchanged patient glances with the spotted twins. "There there…" she consoled and rubbed a gangly arm before leaning in to discreetly whisper, "He is near twice your age, you know."
"I know…" Yzla said and sniffed again, "I'm not even a legal adult in Zootopia for another three years and I knew he was getting married but still… I just wanted him to visit Reino del Sol once before that…"
"He'll be very handsome as a groom," Esther offered, "I can't wait to see him in a tux."
"Yeah… but!" she then exclaimed and pivoted to her laptop for an article referenced in disbelief, "It'll be made by a local tailor! Not even DeCoyote but someone I've never heard of before… You would think that a lion like Simon King would wear a… a Goateng, at least!"
Esther hummed playfully, skimming the article. "While not as prestigious, a 'John Wilde' suit is still top of the line," she said and earned the llama's shock, "It's true, Memphis King himself has a Wilde in his wardrobe."
"R-Really…?"
"I know it for a fact," the fox assured, further skimming, her ears then flicking skyward.
"I guess I'm just sad that I'll miss it… There's no way Papi will let me go back to Zootopia so soon… I always feel so apart in this family, it's just not fair," she said, perhaps a bit bitterly, the jaguars darkly agreeing, and then tacked on, "They do so many things that I just… I can't even…"
Esther reread the article. "Liondon's Council of Ministers were invited to Simon's wedding…?" She knew it had to be Nick; somehow, someway. It was that faith keeping her strong, even though she had not yet heard back from Rafael after paying him with the second earring. Surely, her message was received. "The top brass of Parliament will be in Zootopia… and soon!"
"I know they'll go!" the llama suddenly declared, vigor renewed.
"To miss such an event-" Poc prompted.
"-As the marriage of Simon King," Tez concluded.
"As though King Richard returned," they uniformly agreed, chittering between themselves.
"Maybe I can live-stream it?" Yzla wondered and then furiously typed on her keyboard, "It won't be the same, though… Just look at the leaked photos of Natalia gown-shopping!" she said, nearly bursting into tears yet again as she hugged her still-developing self, "She's beautiful!"
The four of them immediately vaulted from their respective pelts as the grand bedroom doors flung open, the jaguars petrifying at pale attention and Yzla rocketing to her hooves. Esther bit back any and all sounds she could possibly make in her desperate wishing to sink into the floor.
There stood Emperor Zevon Supai… no longer bound to his motorized wheelchair with its audible motor, buzzing along like a herald of his approach; he gripped a golden-capped cane, instead. It wasn't just him, though, he was flanked by his giant anteaters with their pickaxe claws… and Doug Ramses, the fiercest foxhound in the world.
The sniper's oval irises locked onto Esther's, immutable and illegible.
"Daughter," the rye-wooled lord quietly thundered, bolting Yzla to the floor, never acknowledging the fox, "what is she doing in your room?"
Yzla had no answer to give but awkward mutterings and futile attempts at excuses. Tez and Poc dared not breathe too loudly.
Zevon approached and his retinue followed, Doug kept close at hoof… the ram held a rather large book; a law book; the law book that Esther was currently studying; the same book she kept hidden under her bed. "Tamaya," he finally said, eyelids hooding to permit her existence, and with a snap of his hooves, one of his giant anteaters jettisoned onto the floor all of the legal notes compiled during her stay in the palace, "do bother to explain yourself."
Esther, similarly, had little response she could provide, not with all the ways her arguments were so easily countered by that mountain of evidence. No one could deny that the vixen was up to terrible mischief.
He leaned on his cane expectantly, its gentle groan unbearable in the stifling hush. "Take her," he curtly ordered, and his muscle advanced.
"She's mine," Yzla finally managed to blurt out, and, somehow, her father heeded her by raising a hoof to halt the order. A trembling, gangly embrace pulled Esther close. "I… I wasn't sure at first, Papi…" she pleadingly muttered, "you said I could choose one for my quinceañera so I… I choose Tamaya."
Doug glanced up at Zevon.
Zevon looked at his daughter… and then down his nose at the aghast face of Esther. The Emperor of Reino del Sol laughed with such cruel merriment, punctuated with each bang of his cane on the floor. "Indeed?" he elated on approach, trampling the research en route to caress the young llama's cheek while completely ignoring the vixen, "Cria, you have made a fine choice," and kissed her forehead, "You two have fun, then." He turned and exited. "And do pick up your room, it's quite a mess."
The doors closed, leaving only Yzla to rigorously study how she rubbed her own hooves, unable as she was to look at any of the adjacent predators' dumbstruck betrayal. "It will be a beautiful wedding…" the Princess of Reino del Sol finally said.
Author's Notes:
One of the story elements that I first wanted to include in Neverwere Moments was Nick's lineage from Robin Hood and Judy's from Skippy, a theory I saw a long while back; the premise is that the Robin Hood story is historical if not exactly how it happened in the movie (i.e., giant, talking chickens). I had already gone through the storyline of Nick being descended from history's most notorious outlaws (Captain Piberius Savage) so his connection to Robin Hood needed more meaning, more oomf; somewhere along the line I asked myself "What if Robin Hood was crowned king?" and the rest wrote itself. That question brought up another, less fun question: "Why doesn't anyone know about it?". It connects back nicely to the Forestdwell plot point that there is a "Them" "correcting history", after all, what is a story of Zootopia without a dark, gooey center of conspiracy?
Another important plot element that I've been toying around with is this relationship between foxes and their subconscious. I'll explain more in-story but for now, recall when Nick first ate the Night Howler whipped cream way back at the beginning of Trustworthy.
"Philion" is a Zootopian pun on Philip of Cognac, the only known son of the real world King Richard the Lionheart (and presumed a bastard). "Amelia" is the name of his real world wife.
"Billy Hopps" is named after Skippy voice actor in "Robin Hood", Billy Whitaker, and his name fits in nicely with the legend of one of Robin Hood's Merry Men, Will Scarlet.
The "twelve kits" is a reference to what Maid Marian says in the movie about "having a dozen" children with Robin.
"Goateng" is a Zootopian pun on the famous London tailor, Boateng.
"Cria" is the name for a baby llama, used here as a paternal endearment for his youngest daughter.
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