“It is you that needs to stop, Kavilus,” the voice of her father intoned from the doorway - a note of anger - of clear warning - she never remembered hearing before, laced throughout his normally calm tone. And everything else just seems to drop away for her in that moment she turned and saw him - because he is there, right there, standing strong and solemn….and alive. And Kida has never felt such a startling, crystalline, gratitude towards the gods than she did in that moment. Because at least her father was still here, at least she still had him to cling to.
But the Head of the Council was not idle as her mind snapped back and forth and she simply stared at her living parent (and even that was such an odd and new concept to grapple with, for she had grown up so very sheltered in a community where people simply didn’t die. Where they were supposed to be different from those humans - whose lifespans where so short it was hard for most to relate to them), while his fingers dug into her arm.
“We cannot coddle her - she is our Queen now,” he hissed, almost shaking her but Kida remained practically limp which seemed to frustrate him and he finally dropped her. She simply fell into a pile as if her strings had been cut. “She is the center,” he yelled at her father, not noticing. “If our leader is weak, so are we all. And least you forget our past, human,” the word was spat like it was a terrible word, “the fall of the Atlantis enclave will trigger the fall of the others. Our kind cannot live through that again.”
Instead of coming back harsh Father simply said quietly, “Look at her.” And after a tense moment the other man did.
Kida does not know what it was about her in that moment. Half curled up, half just lying there, her eyes still continually leaking tears - eyes that area the exact same color as her Mother’s were- but it seemed to sap the energy out of the Councilman’s previous fervor, his shoulders visibly sagging.
“The Ceremony is tomorrow. She will be strong then,” her father continues quietly as he now enters the room and walks towards her. “But for now Kida is just a little girl. A little girl who lost her Mother moments ago - my wife, least you forget,” it is a gentle rebuke, but a reminder all the same, that perhaps the other man shouldn’t have taken such a tone with the, much loved, Royal Consort and Kavilus flinches slightly. “I shall comfort my child now. There is no need for a show of strength at this time - now is for mourning.” And with that he pulls her to him and they both lose track of the world for a bit, gaining as much relief as they can from shared grief and remembered joys of a tall stately woman with the strength to keep her people in balance but who never neglected her family, never left them in doubt of how much she loved them.
Kida will always remember her Mother’s loud laugh and slow smile, the way she would climb in bed next to her at night and read fairytales.
And she will never forget how her eyes had glowed the moment before she passed - how those eyes caught her identical blue orbs and she felt something. A spark - a fire - ignite in her as it died in her Mother.
Because her Father might refer to her as a child (and she still felt it in almost every way) but Kida was now thirteen, a woman by many a cultures reckoning - by the Powers of the Queens it seemed anyway.
She had been taught early, while learning her people's history, that since the beginning of the proud line of Queens there has only ever been one at a time. It had not occurred to her than to question why that was. (There was so many other things unique through her maternal line - simply the ability to bear a child of the kind - always only one, always a girl with dark skin, blue eyes and white hair, always a Queen - with their Chosen human male.) Her young mind had simply absorbed the fact at the time. It was only now that she slowly realized that as soon as she came of age the Power inherent in their long line, the Power needed to keep the flow between all of their kind steady, started to break down within her Mother and jumped to the younger valid host.
Jumped to her.
She feels it - it is part of the reason why she ran. Even as her Father hugs her and tears fall, she feels that glowing blue energy and tries to think of it as her Mother (her Grandmother, Great-grandmother, generations on and on) - and not as the thing that killed her.
*makes flaily motions and squealy sounds* omgomgomg. I love it already. I don't understand it yet, but I love that as well, and asjgdaghk. I've been trying to comment for like half an hour or something, and I just keep squeeing instead.
Disclaimer: Atlantis: The Lost Empire belongs to Disney. A/N: Sorry about not responding to you earlier afterandalasia - my migraines have been kicking up. But hey, looks like the medication is making my muse go into overgear so here is the next bit. :)
Chapter 1
Many many (many, many) years later....
There was an uproar in the Council Chamber the day she officially made the pronouncement that Helga would be her bodyguard.
She catches the eye of the woman in question, who is leaning against one of the intricately carved twin stone pillars on either side of the large doors, and gets a bored stare and laconically crossed arms in response. But then, Kida doesn't exactly expect her to be surprised - Helga had told her this is what they would do after all.
Most had disapproved of her decision to even keep Helga here in Atlantis, thinking it far too close (some of the more extreme muttering about the sanity of allowing her to live). They say, as the only remaining member of a fallen enclave she is unlucky, not to be trusted. But although Kida has not asked - and the other woman has definitely never volunteered the information - she just knows that the story is much deeper than that. One thing Kida has learned in her many years of leadership (Queen of Atlantis, the Center, Head of All the Enclaves) is empathy. It is something she credits to her Father's influence more than anything else.
The reports she got that day, years ago, of the way Helga was found, pinned down by fallen rock from the explosion - surrounded by the dead and mangled bodies of those who she once led had been awful. They had thought she was dead as well at first, she was so very still, so quiet, hands clenched around a large caliber rifle, just staring unwaveringly down a reinforced side hallway.
(They later followed in that direction and found Rourke (the only one not in the main room) his head blasted nearly clean off with one shot to the base of the skull.)
Even now, long after her legs have healed, her jaw will clench whenever his name is mentioned, the hurt she holds close and will probably always cling to stubbornly.
Whispers of his betrayal of her - of their whole clan - follow Helga wherever she goes. Shouldn’t she have known? Did she know? They were mated after all. Will she ruin us as well? But they always bite their lip and look down as soon as Helga turns and raises that sharp blonde eyebrow at them. It is something Kida secretly envies - her quiet, almost regal, strength.
Kida still feels she is cultivating it, that since most saw her grow up they still view her as a child even though she is nearing her third century. (She has read the diaries of her forerunners, knows that because of their unique nature, all Queens go through this process. And that while none will ever doubt her as their leader, it is only time, patience, and steady strength that will change the picture from little girl to woman when they look upon her.)
And more than the initial empathy for one who has lost everything in a moment, she has come to value Helga for herself. Kida can count on a hand those who treat her as an equal - who neither bow and scrape or talk down to her. She holds her Father and those few friends dear to her.
But Helga was different. From the beginning, Helga treated her like she wasn't a Queen, like she was simply someone she met - someone yet to impress or disappoint her. It was a type of clean slate Kida had never been afforded before, something wholly new and refreshing.
While (and after) she had healed, Kida saw how she relentlessly conditioned her body, how she trained - even thought that was largely seen as unnecessary for their kind.
It was what had given her the idea.
The members of the Council feared letting her walk amongst the outside world, amongst humans. Every time she brought up going out alone, their voices would get shrill - warning of dangers, of what would happen if she was harmed. (The oldest whispered about the days of Hunters.)
Kida understood their concerns, understood why she needed to be protected, but she also knew that unless she put her foot down soon she would end up caged underground for the rest of her days. It had already been a century and a half ago since she walked upon the surface - and then it had been with an entire entourage when she was taking her first visit to all of the enclaves she ruled.
And that was something she refused - to be trapped. Her whole being fought against it.
"Do you question my word?" she asked, and although Kida was not loud her anger must have infused Power into her voice because the room instantly quieted. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Helga smirk.
Kida stood and splayed her hands on the table in supplication as she looked upon her slightly cowed Council members. "You have been concerned for my safety, should I travel up upon the surface. I have answered those concerns," she gestured to Helga who helpfully tilted her head and nodded when everyone turned to stare.
She leveled her cool blue gaze all around. "Do you doubt my choice?"
It was almost a challenge, a dare. And Kida was frankly surprised when time pulled taunt and then lengthened still....and no one answered. No one argued against her.
She smiled widely with a suddenness that visibly startled a few and made her struggle not to laugh. "Than I shall see your Honorable Council men and women in a week. Sessions shall, of course, be suspended until Ms. Sinclair and I return."
Disclaimer: Atlantis: The Lost Empire belongs to Disney.
Chapter 2
She is giddy once she leaves the Council room - the smile never leaving her face, all the way through the twisting halls to her own chambers.
But Kida, doesn’t even try to fight the feeling, the happiness and excitement bubbling within her, because she will be going above ground. There will be sun and moon, people and busy streets, air filled with strange smells both pleasant and fowl. She can go to museums, libraries, plays - or simply to parks and fields. (The thought of wide open spaces sends a thrill through her.) She craves difference most of all, her eyes long to see other views than the beautifully carved stone that surrounds her every day.
She starts to hum as she packs - careful in what she brings, wanting to blend in. But it is not easy for Kida to walk amongst people and not stand out (she remembers that from the last trip, she even stands out starkly down here). Her dark skin, bright blue eyes, and white hair come to her from her Mother's side, are all trademarks of the long line of Atlantean Queens and she is proud to be a part of that heritage. But if she wishes to move about with any sort of anonymity, even to those with no knowledge of her kind, she must carefully wrap her hair in a scarf or cover it with a hat of some kind.
There is a familiar knock on her door that makes her drop a lovely deep purple cotton wrap that she was folding. She calls a greeting, turning to smile at her Father when he enters. That smile almost falters though when she takes him in - because, well, her father is aging. It is something she has noticed lately in that startling way that hits hard and makes her wonder why the daily decline never really register.
She knows what this means - what this clearly telegraphs to all around them - what her Father must know. Her Consort is near, her chosen mate. Truly, it is probably the cause of her intense restlessness lately, her need to get to the outside.
But when they have bonded…(she does not even wish to finish the thought within her own mind, winces away from the knowledge, has been avoiding it for so long)…her father will die.
Give and take - it is her existence.
Kida has a moment of wanting to grab her father and run, run far far away. Perhaps just hide out for a few decades (normal humans don’t live an awful long time, right?). But she is more than just a little girl now, she is a Queen, a leader and people depend on her. She does not have the luxury to run and hide, even if it could stave off the inevitable coming change for a while. And anyway, it is a greedy wish, not what her Father would want - he has candidly told her over the years that he welcomes the day he will join her Mother again.
Give and take, the old mantra seems to breathe through her, making her shake, making her feel both strong and weak.
And her Father has walked towards her, his hand lays gently on her shoulder - so much more frail than she remembers - and he smiles at her. When he speaks though, his voice is as strong as ever and that, at least, is a comfort to her.
“You reminded me of your Mother standing there today. I'm proud of you, Kida,” he says. It snaps her back to the present.
“I was not to harsh with the Council than?” she frowns worriedly. “I do not wish to be seen as a dictator.”
But he laughs at this. “Not at all, my daughter. They need to see that you are capable of making decisions - even it they don't agree with them. You are not a child and shouldn’t be treated as such. You are not only a Queen but your own woman now,” his smile turns bittersweet.
“I love you, Father,” Kida blurts awkwardly and the hug she pulls him in lacks just as much grace but she feels rushed. Can almost see their time together slipping away, it makes her close her eyes and hold him tighter - bite her lip, so as not to cry, when she feels him stroke her hair.
Because this is her Father and how can anybody else she is “given” ever equate to a loss of him. (She would throw away her Power, her leadership, in an instant for her Mother’s life - that was not an equal trade, not by far).
But Kida also cannot be entirely cynical about the thought of her mate (cannot stop the little fissure of excitement deep down even) because she remembers seeing how in love her parents were, how strong their bond was. Knows her Mother went through this very same loss to receive her mate, her family - that all Queens did. That it is the trade of to be as they are, to be able to wield the Power to keep peace among their people, for the ability to bear an heir to do the same.
Give and take.
It will perhaps not be an equal thing than, she thinks - never that. But she won’t be left with nothing in the end. She will still have family - a new one perhaps. But change is always inevitable if their line is to continue.
Kida bites her lip harder and hugs her Father tighter.
I just have to say, I love the mythology that you're building up here, all around the pattern of give and take and this different way of being in the world. Also, Helga! ♥
Kida's relationship with her father is enough to make me teary-eyed, I gotta say. It's so... tender, and protective. It's really wonderful.
There are so many different fandom mythologies of vampirism these days that I just found it far more interesting to toss them all aside and build by own. (Which of course, plays in later when we run into Milo. *laughs*) But, it helps that there is all that fun Atlantis stuff to pull from too - both the characters and the bits of background history that were always just hinted at, it's so easy to twist them a bit now.
(And I had to have Helga - I have a strange fascination with her, all the wonderful, strong women from that movie really. *snorts*)
As for the relationship between, Kida and her Father - I'm really glad that worked. It's the longest and strongest relationship Kida has ever had. She lost her Mother at thirteen but has been raised/had the support of her Father for the last three centuries. Although it is expected - planned for even - will be desperately hard for her to lose him.
Disclaimer: Atlantis: The Lost Empire belongs to Disney.
Chapter 3
He winces at the conversation overheard on the other side of the stacks, tries to ignore it, brush it off as just teenaged girls, but his shoulders still stay tense until they walk to far away for him to hear.
Milo lets out a breath of air then and shakes his head - he is being silly after all. But the intense popularity of “Twilight” feels like an almost personal affront to his academic senses. Especially given his particular field of interest.
Vampires.
His Mythologies Professor had always sighed and looked almost disappointed, with this continued singular obsession of his - clear through to when he turned in his very well researched Doctorate thesis. And although Milo had left Oxford years ago, age had yet to bring him the esteem he had hoped for - speeding through school so quickly, graduating so young, he had always thought part of the reason they scoffed was the age disparity. It seemed though, that actually the older he got the less people respected his interested in vampires as anything other than a silly juvenile pastime only fit to be played out on television and movie screens.
Now people looked at it as if it must be a creepy (almost sexual) thing and that made Milo squirm because for him it most definitely wasn't.
Because to him, vampires had always been more than that - so much more than the caricatures in books and on tv. They had been since he was very young. Milo does not know why it was vampires that he latched onto and not, say, superheroes or something more appropriate for a little boy.
Perhaps, back then, in a twisted way it was hopeful: his parents were dead, killed in a car crash, and it made him feel just a bit better to lock himself away and read about these beings that would never die.
(He used to have dreams about his Mom and Dad rising from their graves and it wasn’t a scary thing, he always ran to them gladly. And was bitterly disappointed to wake up again in a world where that would never happen, a world where they would stay in their coffins forever, a world that told him that vampires weren’t real.)
He always took things personally. His thesis paper had been on the psychology of immortality, of living that long - possibly so many more lifespans than humans are used to. There was too much conflicting mythologies for Milo to be entirely sympathetic of vampires (some were they are painted as bloodthirsty animals that lived only to feed and destroy) but he could hypothesize how it might be for someone like a human to live so very long, how it might be for him to. And so that is how he had written it, pulling in historical depictions from various cultures that supported his views as well as those that opposed them.
After college (including getting his Masters and Doctorate) Milo had not quite known what to do with his life.
He knows he is intelligent - he graduated High School at eleven and got full scholarship to Oxford after all - but he has felt such unease. Such a need to wander. Mr. Whitmore (who he had called Grandad his entire life - the older man's relationship with Milo's grandfather after his wife had died, had always been a rather open secret, even back when those sorts of things weren't spoken about) had offered Milo a fully paid expedition wherever he wished but didn't seemed surprised when he had turned it down in favor of this aimless wandering - it seems it's in the Thatch blood to want to search, but to also have a need to do it their own way.
Lately, he has only staying in a town for a year or so, never putting down solid roots. He got an apartment here in Montana a month ago and, although he was way over qualified - and not necessarily in the right fields, the librarian had taken him on.
He reaches blindly to pick up another book to re-shelve and is surprised when his fingers run into a warm hand instead of the familiar feeling of plastic covered bindings.
Milo looks up and the most beautiful woman he has ever seen smiles at him. He blushes instantly, feeling intensely foolish, knowing he is going to do or say something stupid. He has never had any luck with pretty women near his own age, never seemed to do anything but blunder around them. And she is far more than just pretty.
Her eyes are a startling bright blue that offsets her dark skin - a lock of white, not blonde, but white hair has escaped the purple embroidered scarf that the rest is tucked under that matched her plain sundress. The fingers of his other hand actually twitch with the urge to reach up and gently push that fallen lock of hair behind her ear.
He lets out a whoosh of breath, only then realizing that he had been holding it and feels embarrassment shoot through him acutely. Milo would blush again if he had ever stopped in the first place (it feels almost like a sunburn on his face). But the woman just laughs and somehow it’s not a mocking sound, but laced with real joy.
He smiles tentatively at her, reaching out his hand to shake. “Hello,” he says, still lowly - they are in a library after all, “I’m Milo Thatch.”
Her hand slides into his and he can almost swear he feels a wave of energy roll through him, leaving him short of breath but energized. “Hello, Milo,” she responds (are her eyes faintly glowing?). “I am Kida. And I feel we shall be getting to know each other very well.”
That should be an odd statement - should make him uneasy since they have only just met. But instead it feels like truth, it feels like an end to his search. Because although Milo has often wished he could be scientific in nature, seen things coldly and precisely, it simply isn’t his way. He is a romantic through and through, believes in fate, and happenstance. He is the type that holds back until the last minute than jumps in with both feet. And looking at her open, sure, face - with that single lock of hair falling forward - there has never been anyone Milo has wanted to get to know more.
So, he decided to be brave. “I get off work at four. Would you-," he clears his throat, nervously, "would you like to get some coffee?”
“Yes, Milo Thatch,” she says reaching up to lay a hand on his arm (their other hands are still clasped and he feels almost dizzy from the contact and then bereft when she lets go). “I shall be at the chair, near the windows, reading,” she reached into the trolley grabbing the book they were both reaching for originally when their hands brushed, “this.” Her grin is infectious when she shows him the cover of the rather large collection of fairy tales by Hans Christian Anderson and he finds himself grinning in return.
He watches her go, until her path brings another woman into his eye line who raises an unimpressed blonde eyebrow at him that makes him look away quickly. Milo, rubs the arm she touched one last time, before getting back to work (it tingled - but that was probably just his imagination). There was still two hours until his shift was over, two hours until Kida, until….
He shakes his head, unable to tamp down his smile, and grabs another book.
asjkfg MILO stop being so adorable I can't. I also sniggered at the Twilight line (have you heard of das_sporking? I hang out there a lot. The mod is close to finishing her sporking of the whole Twilight series.)
Also, Helga, you perfect creature. Aaaah I love it so much. I swear I'm normally more coherent than this.
Milo, is the sort that can't help but be a bit bumbling, sweet, and shy - and doesn't know how very adorable it is. *grin*
And I didn't know about das_sporking. I followed your link on over, and although I've never read Twilight (I threw in the reference because I thought if I had devoted my life to the serious study of vampires then having a series of that sort, where they sparkle, would be rather galling *pets Milo's hair*) I glanced around at one of the bits that "sporked" HP fic instead though (because I have read a boat load of HP fic - both good and bad). And I must admit, that although I found it funny, it made me nervous too, because I know my own writing often runs rampant with the sort of grammatical problems that were nit picked. *shakes head*
And don't worry about coherency - I know I usually lack it as well, and I just enjoy getting the feedback. Oh, wanted to let you know though, that since this story is getting a bit long for LJ, I'll probably move it over to AO3. So, when I get the next chapter done, I'll leave the link over here to redirect.
But the Head of the Council was not idle as her mind snapped back and forth and she simply stared at her living parent (and even that was such an odd and new concept to grapple with, for she had grown up so very sheltered in a community where people simply didn’t die. Where they were supposed to be different from those humans - whose lifespans where so short it was hard for most to relate to them), while his fingers dug into her arm.
“We cannot coddle her - she is our Queen now,” he hissed, almost shaking her but Kida remained practically limp which seemed to frustrate him and he finally dropped her. She simply fell into a pile as if her strings had been cut. “She is the center,” he yelled at her father, not noticing. “If our leader is weak, so are we all. And least you forget our past, human,” the word was spat like it was a terrible word, “the fall of the Atlantis enclave will trigger the fall of the others. Our kind cannot live through that again.”
Instead of coming back harsh Father simply said quietly, “Look at her.” And after a tense moment the other man did.
Kida does not know what it was about her in that moment. Half curled up, half just lying there, her eyes still continually leaking tears - eyes that area the exact same color as her Mother’s were- but it seemed to sap the energy out of the Councilman’s previous fervor, his shoulders visibly sagging.
“The Ceremony is tomorrow. She will be strong then,” her father continues quietly as he now enters the room and walks towards her. “But for now Kida is just a little girl. A little girl who lost her Mother moments ago - my wife, least you forget,” it is a gentle rebuke, but a reminder all the same, that perhaps the other man shouldn’t have taken such a tone with the, much loved, Royal Consort and Kavilus flinches slightly. “I shall comfort my child now. There is no need for a show of strength at this time - now is for mourning.” And with that he pulls her to him and they both lose track of the world for a bit, gaining as much relief as they can from shared grief and remembered joys of a tall stately woman with the strength to keep her people in balance but who never neglected her family, never left them in doubt of how much she loved them.
Kida will always remember her Mother’s loud laugh and slow smile, the way she would climb in bed next to her at night and read fairytales.
And she will never forget how her eyes had glowed the moment before she passed - how those eyes caught her identical blue orbs and she felt something. A spark - a fire - ignite in her as it died in her Mother.
Because her Father might refer to her as a child (and she still felt it in almost every way) but Kida was now thirteen, a woman by many a cultures reckoning - by the Powers of the Queens it seemed anyway.
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Jumped to her.
She feels it - it is part of the reason why she ran. Even as her Father hugs her and tears fall, she feels that glowing blue energy and tries to think of it as her Mother (her Grandmother, Great-grandmother, generations on and on) - and not as the thing that killed her.
And what will kill her one day too.
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A/N: Sorry about not responding to you earlier afterandalasia - my migraines have been kicking up. But hey, looks like the medication is making my muse go into overgear so here is the next bit. :)
Chapter 1
Many many (many, many) years later....
There was an uproar in the Council Chamber the day she officially made the pronouncement that Helga would be her bodyguard.
She catches the eye of the woman in question, who is leaning against one of the intricately carved twin stone pillars on either side of the large doors, and gets a bored stare and laconically crossed arms in response. But then, Kida doesn't exactly expect her to be surprised - Helga had told her this is what they would do after all.
Most had disapproved of her decision to even keep Helga here in Atlantis, thinking it far too close (some of the more extreme muttering about the sanity of allowing her to live). They say, as the only remaining member of a fallen enclave she is unlucky, not to be trusted. But although Kida has not asked - and the other woman has definitely never volunteered the information - she just knows that the story is much deeper than that. One thing Kida has learned in her many years of leadership (Queen of Atlantis, the Center, Head of All the Enclaves) is empathy. It is something she credits to her Father's influence more than anything else.
The reports she got that day, years ago, of the way Helga was found, pinned down by fallen rock from the explosion - surrounded by the dead and mangled bodies of those who she once led had been awful. They had thought she was dead as well at first, she was so very still, so quiet, hands clenched around a large caliber rifle, just staring unwaveringly down a reinforced side hallway.
(They later followed in that direction and found Rourke (the only one not in the main room) his head blasted nearly clean off with one shot to the base of the skull.)
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Whispers of his betrayal of her - of their whole clan - follow Helga wherever she goes. Shouldn’t she have known? Did she know? They were mated after all. Will she ruin us as well? But they always bite their lip and look down as soon as Helga turns and raises that sharp blonde eyebrow at them. It is something Kida secretly envies - her quiet, almost regal, strength.
Kida still feels she is cultivating it, that since most saw her grow up they still view her as a child even though she is nearing her third century. (She has read the diaries of her forerunners, knows that because of their unique nature, all Queens go through this process. And that while none will ever doubt her as their leader, it is only time, patience, and steady strength that will change the picture from little girl to woman when they look upon her.)
And more than the initial empathy for one who has lost everything in a moment, she has come to value Helga for herself. Kida can count on a hand those who treat her as an equal - who neither bow and scrape or talk down to her. She holds her Father and those few friends dear to her.
But Helga was different. From the beginning, Helga treated her like she wasn't a Queen, like she was simply someone she met - someone yet to impress or disappoint her. It was a type of clean slate Kida had never been afforded before, something wholly new and refreshing.
While (and after) she had healed, Kida saw how she relentlessly conditioned her body, how she trained - even thought that was largely seen as unnecessary for their kind.
It was what had given her the idea.
The members of the Council feared letting her walk amongst the outside world, amongst humans. Every time she brought up going out alone, their voices would get shrill - warning of dangers, of what would happen if she was harmed. (The oldest whispered about the days of Hunters.)
Kida understood their concerns, understood why she needed to be protected, but she also knew that unless she put her foot down soon she would end up caged underground for the rest of her days. It had already been a century and a half ago since she walked upon the surface - and then it had been with an entire entourage when she was taking her first visit to all of the enclaves she ruled.
And that was something she refused - to be trapped. Her whole being fought against it.
"Do you question my word?" she asked, and although Kida was not loud her anger must have infused Power into her voice because the room instantly quieted. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Helga smirk.
Kida stood and splayed her hands on the table in supplication as she looked upon her slightly cowed Council members. "You have been concerned for my safety, should I travel up upon the surface. I have answered those concerns," she gestured to Helga who helpfully tilted her head and nodded when everyone turned to stare.
She leveled her cool blue gaze all around. "Do you doubt my choice?"
It was almost a challenge, a dare. And Kida was frankly surprised when time pulled taunt and then lengthened still....and no one answered. No one argued against her.
She smiled widely with a suddenness that visibly startled a few and made her struggle not to laugh. "Than I shall see your Honorable Council men and women in a week. Sessions shall, of course, be suspended until Ms. Sinclair and I return."
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Chapter 2
She is giddy once she leaves the Council room - the smile never leaving her face, all the way through the twisting halls to her own chambers.
But Kida, doesn’t even try to fight the feeling, the happiness and excitement bubbling within her, because she will be going above ground. There will be sun and moon, people and busy streets, air filled with strange smells both pleasant and fowl. She can go to museums, libraries, plays - or simply to parks and fields. (The thought of wide open spaces sends a thrill through her.) She craves difference most of all, her eyes long to see other views than the beautifully carved stone that surrounds her every day.
She starts to hum as she packs - careful in what she brings, wanting to blend in. But it is not easy for Kida to walk amongst people and not stand out (she remembers that from the last trip, she even stands out starkly down here). Her dark skin, bright blue eyes, and white hair come to her from her Mother's side, are all trademarks of the long line of Atlantean Queens and she is proud to be a part of that heritage. But if she wishes to move about with any sort of anonymity, even to those with no knowledge of her kind, she must carefully wrap her hair in a scarf or cover it with a hat of some kind.
There is a familiar knock on her door that makes her drop a lovely deep purple cotton wrap that she was folding. She calls a greeting, turning to smile at her Father when he enters. That smile almost falters though when she takes him in - because, well, her father is aging. It is something she has noticed lately in that startling way that hits hard and makes her wonder why the daily decline never really register.
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But when they have bonded…(she does not even wish to finish the thought within her own mind, winces away from the knowledge, has been avoiding it for so long)…her father will die.
Give and take - it is her existence.
Kida has a moment of wanting to grab her father and run, run far far away. Perhaps just hide out for a few decades (normal humans don’t live an awful long time, right?). But she is more than just a little girl now, she is a Queen, a leader and people depend on her. She does not have the luxury to run and hide, even if it could stave off the inevitable coming change for a while. And anyway, it is a greedy wish, not what her Father would want - he has candidly told her over the years that he welcomes the day he will join her Mother again.
Give and take, the old mantra seems to breathe through her, making her shake, making her feel both strong and weak.
And her Father has walked towards her, his hand lays gently on her shoulder - so much more frail than she remembers - and he smiles at her. When he speaks though, his voice is as strong as ever and that, at least, is a comfort to her.
“You reminded me of your Mother standing there today. I'm proud of you, Kida,” he says. It snaps her back to the present.
“I was not to harsh with the Council than?” she frowns worriedly. “I do not wish to be seen as a dictator.”
But he laughs at this. “Not at all, my daughter. They need to see that you are capable of making decisions - even it they don't agree with them. You are not a child and shouldn’t be treated as such. You are not only a Queen but your own woman now,” his smile turns bittersweet.
“I love you, Father,” Kida blurts awkwardly and the hug she pulls him in lacks just as much grace but she feels rushed. Can almost see their time together slipping away, it makes her close her eyes and hold him tighter - bite her lip, so as not to cry, when she feels him stroke her hair.
Because this is her Father and how can anybody else she is “given” ever equate to a loss of him. (She would throw away her Power, her leadership, in an instant for her Mother’s life - that was not an equal trade, not by far).
But Kida also cannot be entirely cynical about the thought of her mate (cannot stop the little fissure of excitement deep down even) because she remembers seeing how in love her parents were, how strong their bond was. Knows her Mother went through this very same loss to receive her mate, her family - that all Queens did. That it is the trade of to be as they are, to be able to wield the Power to keep peace among their people, for the ability to bear an heir to do the same.
Give and take.
It will perhaps not be an equal thing than, she thinks - never that. But she won’t be left with nothing in the end. She will still have family - a new one perhaps. But change is always inevitable if their line is to continue.
Kida bites her lip harder and hugs her Father tighter.
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Kida's relationship with her father is enough to make me teary-eyed, I gotta say. It's so... tender, and protective. It's really wonderful.
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(And I had to have Helga - I have a strange fascination with her, all the wonderful, strong women from that movie really. *snorts*)
As for the relationship between, Kida and her Father - I'm really glad that worked. It's the longest and strongest relationship Kida has ever had. She lost her Mother at thirteen but has been raised/had the support of her Father for the last three centuries. Although it is expected - planned for even - will be desperately hard for her to lose him.
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Chapter 3
He winces at the conversation overheard on the other side of the stacks, tries to ignore it, brush it off as just teenaged girls, but his shoulders still stay tense until they walk to far away for him to hear.
Milo lets out a breath of air then and shakes his head - he is being silly after all. But the intense popularity of “Twilight” feels like an almost personal affront to his academic senses. Especially given his particular field of interest.
Vampires.
His Mythologies Professor had always sighed and looked almost disappointed, with this continued singular obsession of his - clear through to when he turned in his very well researched Doctorate thesis. And although Milo had left Oxford years ago, age had yet to bring him the esteem he had hoped for - speeding through school so quickly, graduating so young, he had always thought part of the reason they scoffed was the age disparity. It seemed though, that actually the older he got the less people respected his interested in vampires as anything other than a silly juvenile pastime only fit to be played out on television and movie screens.
Now people looked at it as if it must be a creepy (almost sexual) thing and that made Milo squirm because for him it most definitely wasn't.
Because to him, vampires had always been more than that - so much more than the caricatures in books and on tv. They had been since he was very young. Milo does not know why it was vampires that he latched onto and not, say, superheroes or something more appropriate for a little boy.
Perhaps, back then, in a twisted way it was hopeful: his parents were dead, killed in a car crash, and it made him feel just a bit better to lock himself away and read about these beings that would never die.
(He used to have dreams about his Mom and Dad rising from their graves and it wasn’t a scary thing, he always ran to them gladly. And was bitterly disappointed to wake up again in a world where that would never happen, a world where they would stay in their coffins forever, a world that told him that vampires weren’t real.)
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After college (including getting his Masters and Doctorate) Milo had not quite known what to do with his life.
He knows he is intelligent - he graduated High School at eleven and got full scholarship to Oxford after all - but he has felt such unease. Such a need to wander. Mr. Whitmore (who he had called Grandad his entire life - the older man's relationship with Milo's grandfather after his wife had died, had always been a rather open secret, even back when those sorts of things weren't spoken about) had offered Milo a fully paid expedition wherever he wished but didn't seemed surprised when he had turned it down in favor of this aimless wandering - it seems it's in the Thatch blood to want to search, but to also have a need to do it their own way.
Lately, he has only staying in a town for a year or so, never putting down solid roots. He got an apartment here in Montana a month ago and, although he was way over qualified - and not necessarily in the right fields, the librarian had taken him on.
He reaches blindly to pick up another book to re-shelve and is surprised when his fingers run into a warm hand instead of the familiar feeling of plastic covered bindings.
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Milo looks up and the most beautiful woman he has ever seen smiles at him. He blushes instantly, feeling intensely foolish, knowing he is going to do or say something stupid. He has never had any luck with pretty women near his own age, never seemed to do anything but blunder around them. And she is far more than just pretty.
Her eyes are a startling bright blue that offsets her dark skin - a lock of white, not blonde, but white hair has escaped the purple embroidered scarf that the rest is tucked under that matched her plain sundress. The fingers of his other hand actually twitch with the urge to reach up and gently push that fallen lock of hair behind her ear.
He lets out a whoosh of breath, only then realizing that he had been holding it and feels embarrassment shoot through him acutely. Milo would blush again if he had ever stopped in the first place (it feels almost like a sunburn on his face). But the woman just laughs and somehow it’s not a mocking sound, but laced with real joy.
He smiles tentatively at her, reaching out his hand to shake. “Hello,” he says, still lowly - they are in a library after all, “I’m Milo Thatch.”
Her hand slides into his and he can almost swear he feels a wave of energy roll through him, leaving him short of breath but energized. “Hello, Milo,” she responds (are her eyes faintly glowing?). “I am Kida. And I feel we shall be getting to know each other very well.”
That should be an odd statement - should make him uneasy since they have only just met. But instead it feels like truth, it feels like an end to his search. Because although Milo has often wished he could be scientific in nature, seen things coldly and precisely, it simply isn’t his way. He is a romantic through and through, believes in fate, and happenstance. He is the type that holds back until the last minute than jumps in with both feet. And looking at her open, sure, face - with that single lock of hair falling forward - there has never been anyone Milo has wanted to get to know more.
So, he decided to be brave. “I get off work at four. Would you-," he clears his throat, nervously, "would you like to get some coffee?”
“Yes, Milo Thatch,” she says reaching up to lay a hand on his arm (their other hands are still clasped and he feels almost dizzy from the contact and then bereft when she lets go). “I shall be at the chair, near the windows, reading,” she reached into the trolley grabbing the book they were both reaching for originally when their hands brushed, “this.” Her grin is infectious when she shows him the cover of the rather large collection of fairy tales by Hans Christian Anderson and he finds himself grinning in return.
He watches her go, until her path brings another woman into his eye line who raises an unimpressed blonde eyebrow at him that makes him look away quickly. Milo, rubs the arm she touched one last time, before getting back to work (it tingled - but that was probably just his imagination). There was still two hours until his shift was over, two hours until Kida, until….
He shakes his head, unable to tamp down his smile, and grabs another book.
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Also, Helga, you perfect creature. Aaaah I love it so much. I swear I'm normally more coherent than this.
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And I didn't know about das_sporking. I followed your link on over, and although I've never read Twilight (I threw in the reference because I thought if I had devoted my life to the serious study of vampires then having a series of that sort, where they sparkle, would be rather galling *pets Milo's hair*) I glanced around at one of the bits that "sporked" HP fic instead though (because I have read a boat load of HP fic - both good and bad). And I must admit, that although I found it funny, it made me nervous too, because I know my own writing often runs rampant with the sort of grammatical problems that were nit picked. *shakes head*
And don't worry about coherency - I know I usually lack it as well, and I just enjoy getting the feedback. Oh, wanted to let you know though, that since this story is getting a bit long for LJ, I'll probably move it over to AO3. So, when I get the next chapter done, I'll leave the link over here to redirect.
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http://archiveofourown.org/works/915433/chapters/1775717
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