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 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.
Reply
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.)
Reply
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.
Reply
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.
Reply
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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