Commission story 4: Exiled Pride.
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For this one shot, Combat Engineer gave me a list of potential AU's, and I picked one and did my own interpretation of it. Hope you enjoy.
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Dark maroon paws wandered over the black volcanic rock, the great villain making his way down. He had a melancholic feel today, given what would soon be done. It reminded him of a time long ago when, after years of wishing to grow up and go on his adventures, he'd stood and shivered on the eve of his first battle. Fur on end, legs tense coiled in terror, his dreams soured as the levity of the upcoming day turned into a stark fact, haunting and teasing him. Taunting him for ever believing that this was what he wanted.
Today was different though. Nicholas Wilde hadn't exactly wished for the predicament he was in now, and it was its end that was looming large in his mind. It wasn't the fear and worry of the next day that hurt him, more the unease at leaving the dearly familiar.
Still, he sighed as he reached the shore, his pads imprinting in the jet black sand. He moved close enough to the water for the breaking waves to sweep up past his paws, before drawing back. He looked out at the blue horizon, a whole world far different to the one he'd once known lying beyond.
Still, he could enjoy one last day. He raised his paws up, flexing them, and he spoke, his words echoing out.
"Haulmuthi. Gosvieous. Damlthuiana. Hokrum!"
Emerald eyes glowed out, burning like the sun, as the enchantment made its way out. Nobody but he himself knew the old language of spells and dark mysteries.
Age twenty six, hounded from his ship's port of call in Aragon, given their banishment of all vulpines, he'd picked up an old Romany vixen and cared for her like she was his mother. She'd passed on her tiny knowledge of magic, a secret to the whole world, and pointed him on the path to greatness and glory.
The magic faded, and he smiled as a splash broke through the water. A shimmering blue sail broke the waves, a terrible spear driving up over the sand, and Nick licked his lips as the swordfish beached itself at his feet, as commanded. Giving it a quite bite, a mercy, he picked it up and began bounding back home. Swifter than a cheetah, leaping farther than a gazelle.
He hadn't been able to do this when he'd scaled Noah's mountain. There, as whispered, the book of Kane had lay, and from it the fox had sought his powers. The ability to command, to race and prance, to transmute the elements and to live forever. For a while, he'd been content. He grew rich, he enjoyed life. Hanging about in Rome here, Istanbull there. On hearing about a popular playwright, he spent a happy time in Lionden, even getting a few autographs from the bard himself. Back then, like now, he was content to use his powers for humble enjoyment, with no greater motive.
Just like now, with how he was using them to help prepare a nice meal. Carrying on up, the barren rocks began springing with lush vegetation. Grasses and trees, the scents of flowers blooming. The residents of the island, his neighbours, waved as he went past. He'd seen them grow up, and their descendants before them. He could spot a few whose ancestors he remembered being landed as slaves. He may have subtly use his powers here and there to encourage the owners to let them be free.
Bounding up into a small valley, he rested by a church. Cathedral officially, but not really. In its defense it was the largest place of worship for thousands of miles. Resting, Nick smiled as he looked at the two large plantation houses, overlooking the church from either side. One was his own. The other had been the home of another troublesome leader, some two hundred and a bit years ago. Exiled to this rock to keep him out of trouble, just like he was.
Unlike a certain Corsican lion though, 'Prince' Nicholas Wilde would be returning to the mainland.
He smiled as he walked up towards his own house, passing the plantations and gardens. Mammals were working there, friends and family. Over the last few centuries he'd raised the odd orphan, loving him or her as his own. Their great, great, great, great grandkits now hung out with him, all excited and preparing for the feast. They followed him and loved him, no need for his powers to come into play.
All that time ago, he'd been stirred up to use them. Watching centuries roll past, seeing the futility of it all, watching war after war fought about things he knew the answers to, over and over again. Petty squabble after petty squabble, causing terrible pain and sorrow each time. Poor mammals led by arrogant and ignorant kings, claiming divine right to rule.
If they had a right, why didn't he? The eternal ruler, no messy succession issues or forgetting the mistakes of the past. He truly believed that he could have brought peace to the world. So he used his powers, became a ruler, and marched forth. Powers in use, his conquests were far less bloody than any before, and he could bring peace! Truly, he could…
Others didn't agree with that, and so the Holy Roman Empire fought against him. They found the magic too, and raised a champion. One who would live as long as he did, who was immune to his powers, and take them away with a snap of her fingers.
So his near victory began unfolding, turning into a long decline to defeat, and he grew sick at the news of so many dying.
He just wanted peace, so he sought it. A bit of haggling, many promises about equality and such on their end, and he was to be held on this rock for four hundred years (unless of course said promises were broken).
He wanted to haggle it down to three hundred and fifty, but honestly he was tired by the end.
So he left, to serve his sentence, guarded by the one mammal who could best him.
"Got a big fish, Slick?"
Nick smiled as he placed it down in the kitchen, smiling even more as her turned to see the mammal in question. It had taken a few centuries to find the right word, but now he could safely call her his kryptonite.
"Did I tell you how much I like it when you dress up in your armour, Carrots?"
Judy of Bunnyburrow nodded, the gleaming sun bouncing off her centuries old armor as she bowed. In her paw she held her sword, once blessed by a long dead pope. On her shield was the coat of arms of a long dead house.
She'd been raised to see him as the devil.
After the first few years, he became her devil.
It wasn't long after that she began complaining about the unfairness of his sentence. He didn't mind. Heck, when the empire that sentenced him was defeated and destroyed half way through, she encouraged him to leave. He refused, he was a fox of his word and for the next two-hundred years he'd stay like the last.
A few years later he was rubbing it in as they played drinking games with the defeater of said empire.
Good times…
"I thought it was appropriate," she said, smirking as she came over.
Washing his paws, Nick turned to hug her, the two embracing. They kissed and hugged, before parting, their gaze lingering on each other.
"Are you going to wear that when we finally marry?"
"Only if you wear your royal robes," she said, smirking. She did like those robes.
"I'll have you know that those things were vastly outclassed by this more modern apparel," he replied, pointing to his pawaian shirt.
"And I thought you were always going on about how things were better in 'the good old days'" she sassed.
Nick smirked, winking at her. "You know you love me," he said, before sauntering off to his room.
"Do I?" she carried on, giving her sword a flourished swing. "Yes, yes I do."
He turned, blew her a kiss, before entering his private study. She'd fallen for him a long, long time ago.
Staring into the void, and he'd stared back.
Hiring Neitsche to quote that directly to her was still one of his top ten pranks, even today…
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Today. The last day of his imprisonment. He sighed, looking around his study. This last century had certainly been a boon in terms of keeping in touch with the rest of the world. An odd trickle of reports and news had turned into being able to access info anywhere, any time.
Getting ready for his freedom.
He was looking forwards to it. He'd be free, they'd marry and feast, then fly to South Afripaw from the island's new airport. He wished his foresight had seen that. He could have so teased those kings by saying he'd return in a giant metal dragon.
Of course, his foresight had other uses. By and large, he'd been good at investing in stocks. He'd been a billionaire before that though, given his transmutation powers. The treaty had forbidden him from making precious metals, but they forgot about diamonds. More recently, the nuclear industries gave him even more options, what with heavy water and turning waste back into new fuel. Then there was his very being and nature. Interviews, talks, helping historians. With comic books coming out and making their mark on culture, some began calling him the first supervillain, and after seeing Che Gueva on T-shirts he'd wanted in.
He was rich and famous, and most people didn't worry about him going bad. After all, an airstrike could snuff him out if he went wrong.
He didn't plan to. As he sat down and turned on his computer, he thought about all the progress made. The world was getting ever more peaceful, ever richer. It was that desire which resulted in him ending up here in the first place.
Even for selfish reasons there was no need for villainy. Peace was profitable, and handling naughty stuff would take too long regardless.
After all, he now had a new hobby, one that took up plenty of his free time.
He flicked open a few programs, started the groovy music, readied himself and smiled for the camera. "Hello! It's Monday the 5th of August, 2019. With T-minus ten hours left, live from sunny St Helena, it's the Wizard Wilde cast…"
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"An emperor of France shall rise who will be born near Italy,
His rule cost his empire dear, Napoleron his name shall be."
(Nostradamus. (Al Stewart) (This is a great song, you should listen to this song, there's a link to the best version on A03)
After the 100 days and the battle of Waterloo, Napoleon was exiled to the remote island of St Helena where he later died.
When Combat Engineer had: 'Nick is a supervillain released after 400 years imprisonment, but with movies, books and T-shirts made of his acts, why be bad when you can youtube and watch the money flow in?', I began thinking. Nick doing this kind of stuff 400 years ago would mean during the early renaissance. I imagined him as using his powers (magic based, to keep with the theme) to try and rule the world (for benevolent reasons) before surrendering. I was immediately reminded of Napoleon's exile, and decided to write my story about Nick's final day of exile on the same island that the Emperor of France was sent to. Of course, with such power, the powers who be would want someone to keep him in line, and I imagined that Judy (he stopped calling her Judy of Bark after 100 years) would volunteer to guard him.
WildeHopps is consequently an inevitability.