Chapter Text
“That’s the fourth suitor this month, Judy!” Stu groaned as the well-dressed buck stormed out of the Hopps Burrow, wine covering the front of his well-tailored suit.
“He would be the last, too, if I had my way!” Judy glared at her father, her right foot rapidly thumping against the wooden floor of the entrance way.
Sighing, the older rabbit could only stare helplessly at the departing horse-drawn coach, carrying in it the last suitable buck in Bunnyburrow. “Judy, William is a fine young rabbit! He’s independently wealthy, owns a parcel of land, and could make sure you’re well taken care of!”
Judy narrowed her eyes at the doorway that William had passed through, “He touched my butt, dad!”
“WHAT?!” Stu’s ears shot up from where they had been drooping against his back.
“It’s true, Mr. Hopps,” a smooth voice reached the two rabbits from the doorway to a neighboring room, “I saw Mr. Cottonsworth touch Miss Judy myself. I went to intervene, but she had it…handled.”
Judy’s eyes moved to the right slightly, taking in the sight of the family butler, the fox Nicholas Wilde, dressed in a suit and bow-tie. In his paws he carried a tray of refreshments and snacks. Carrots, berries, and various other produces for guests and family alike.
“Nicholas! Did you complete the task I’d given you? And it’s probably best that…you…don’t intervene in sensitives matters like that.” Stu nervously eyed his family’s butler, one hired by his wife, Bonnie, nearly eighteen years ago.
Knowing full-well Stu’s fear of large, dangerous, predators. Especially foxes.
“Of course, Sir.” Nicholas’ face didn’t waver in the slightest, the ever-present grin on his face untouched, “In the future I’ll make sure to alert you immediately. Also, yes. The Mayor was most grateful for the gift.”
“R-right. Good work.” Clearing his throat, Stu sighed and turned his attention to his eldest daughter once again, “But I don’t think there will be another suitor. Not from Bunnyburrow, at least. I’ll have to inquire outside of the Tri-Burrows.”
“Or, and this is just a thought, I could not marry.” Judy crossed her arms in front of her chest with a huff, “It’s not like I’m the only daughter you have.”
Nicholas masked a laugh with a soft cough, clearing his throat when both smaller mammals turned to look at him, his grin unchanging. Seeing that the fox wasn’t going to present a solution to his problem, Stu turned back to his glaring daughter.
“You can’t do that, Judy! Think about what the neighbors would say? A doe, at your age, not marrying? That’s unnatural!” Shuddering, the older rabbit tugged at his own ears.
“Well, then I guess I’m just a freak, aren’t I?” Giving her father one last glare, Judy stomped past Nicholas and down the stairs to go to her room.
The two males stood in silence, watching her as she disappeared from their sight. Finally, once the door to the lower levels of the Hopps Burrow had slammed shut, Stu turned to look at his taller servant. Reaching out, the older mammal took one of the carrots from the tray and nibbled on the end of it, sighing.
“Why is she so difficult? I just want what’s best for her!” Taking larger bites of his carrot, Stu reached for another, frowning when Nicholas pulled the tray away.
“You know what Mrs. Hopps would say about you eating so much before dinner, Sir.” Turning slightly to head back in the direction he came from, the fox paused and looked over his shoulder at his employer.
“If I may answer your question, Sir. Perhaps you should consider if what you think is best for Miss Hopps, is actually what’s best for her.” Walking towards the rear of the Burrow’s upper level, the fox’s tail swished in a gentle arch.
“Just a suggestion, Sir. I’ll alert you when dinner is prepared,” and with that the fox turned the corner and out of sight.
Stu tilted his head and thoughtfully chewed on the remains of his carrot, watching the larger mammal leave.
“Hmm…”
It was night when Judy finally calmed down enough to leave her room, and she was hungry. She’d ignored the calls for dinner, still upset with her father, and unwilling to talk to her mother. With the Hopps Burrow now asleep the purple eyed doe crept from her room, through the darkened halls, and to the large kitchens that serviced her large family.
Only to pause at the sight of the family butler, Nicholas, standing near the counter with a basket of her family’s blueberries in front of him. The fox appeared to be so engrossed with the produce that he hadn’t noticed her arrival.
She had not really paid much attention, recently, to the predator that her mother had brought into her family’s employment when she was still a child of six. He’d been an object of interest to her and her siblings when they were young. One of the only predators in Bunnyburrow, and a fox at that, they’d followed him around everywhere, wondering if he was like the monsters from their father’s stories.
Wondered if he was like Gideon Grey.
But he’d never done anything. Never attacked some poor bunny, or robbed anyone, or swindled anyone out of their hard earned money. He’d done his job, catering to her family’s every need, with an ever present grin on his face. A grin she didn’t remember ever seeing him without.
Until now.
She didn’t think the fox had the ability to frown, to look so downtrodden and sad, as he was now. He picked at the pile of berries with a slow, almost mindless she realized, hand. His usually bright green eyes were dulled, unfocused.
It was in this moment that Judy realized she didn’t really know anything about the mammal that had served her family for almost her entire life. She knew he was from Zootopia, the capital of the country, and that his last name was Wilde, but everyone in the burrow knew those facts.
She reached up and touched her cheek, the one marred by Gideon Grey over a decade and a half ago, and remembered the way she’d treated Nicholas after that incident. Distrusting, cruel even, and she'd made it clear her words and glares. She’d taken the actions of one fox and applied them to all foxes.
But he’d never once reacted to her. Just grinned and took the abuse, like he’d always had. Her father, her grandfather, some of her brothers and sisters. They’d never made him feel welcome, but he’d never once voiced a complaint. He never showed that it affected him.
Gazing at the fox standing at the counter, his eyes dull and lifeless, and his muzzle set in a deep frown, he looked pitifully sad. Alone. The only fox in a sea of rabbits, never welcomed by them, but expected to labor for them.
She vowed to herself that she’d give him a chance.
I’ll make things right!