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Kida is Atlantis, and Kida is his world. He should have known, all things considered, that asking her to marry him would turn into a dramatic affair, but equally that he would not regret a moment of it. He asked, anyway, as they lay mostly-unclothed and sprawled across each other on the head of one of the great stone statues around the city, watching the fireflies make patterns in the sky.
“Kida, do Atlanteans... have marriage?”
“Of course. Though there have not been any for some time now... there are not many people here, after all.”
Milo propped himself up on one elbow, tracing the fingers of one hand gently up and down Kida’s arm. She smiled at him warmly, but there was still a hint of curiosity in her eyes.
“I think, though, that there was something else behind the question?”
He kissed the warm bare curve of her shoulder and felt her fingers twine into his hair. Although they lived in the citadel of the city, he had always preferred coming back here, to the very heights where they could see everything but no-one could see them. It had, after all, been the place where they first kissed.
“How does it work? Do you... I mean, does one normally ask the other? Is it... arranged?”
“People can marry whomever they wish, of course,” said Kida, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He wondered how a world that had been trapped beneath lava for thousands of years could still have more modern ideas than half of the surface. He had seen enough hatred and bigotry in his life to appreciate Kida’s ancient naivety on the matter. “One will ask the other, they tell everybody... well, their friends, but everyone knows each other now... and the celebrations are arranged.”
“That sounds normal.” Fingers tugged at a stray lock of his hair – it was getting long, and he would need to either cut it or tie it back soon – and he gently bit the inside of her wrist. “I almost thought that it would be some strange, arcane custom. You know, catch a lavadog with your bare hands and teach it to sing or something...”
Kida laughed, head tilting back and shoulders arching. For a moment, Milo almost considered chasing the joke, warming to his theme, but let it slide. He was just wondering how to continue when Kida beat him to the punch.
“Are you asking me to marry you, Milo?”
The words he was about to say caught in his throat and came out as a cough which jostled his glasses off. Kida laughed again, and pulled him down for a kiss before he could splutter anything else. Her teeth grazed his lip, and he gave up on saying anything more and let his tongue brush against hers instead. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Kida emboldened the kiss, licking deep into his mouth as he stroked her side, teasing away what of her tunic had ended up draped over her once again.
As he shifted his head to kiss her neck, she whispered into his ear: “I hope you realise that means yes.”
There were many things that the Shepherd’s Book did not describe, apparently deciding that they would not be interesting enough to the outside world. The marriage ceremonies of Atlantis were apparently one of them, and Milo wondered whether it might have been preferable to have some warning before Kida’s wargroup kidnapped him through the window in the middle of the night and carried him down the street with accompanying chants and instruments.
He was bumped along on peoples’ shoulders, Atlantean words rebounding from the buildings. As Milo worked out which way was upwards, he realised that windows were being opened, people leaning out to join in with whoops and laughter. He guessed that the whole ‘Queen of Atlantis’ thing was probably playing into the whole city turning out to witness his kidnapping.
After what seems like hours, Milo found himself deposited at Kida’s feet. She grinned and stretched down a hand to help him up, pulling him standing and then thrusting their hands into the air to another round of cheers and applause. He had a vision of the crowds that he had seen outside churches waving to the newly-wedded happy couple, and had to note that some things, at least, were the same Atlantis or elsewhere.
“Are you okay?” said Kida quietly, twining together their fingers and bringing their hands down to body-height once again.
He nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s good.” A smile spread across his lips as he put one arm around her waist, almost as if they were about to waltz. She was wearing silver-grey, making her shine in the light of the great crystal above them, half of her hair swept up and the rest falling loose and jingling. It wouldn’t be right to see her in white on this day, dressed up in the trappings of the world which he had once called his, in a veil instead of a crown, or carrying a bouquet instead of a sword. This was her world, and she wore it to perfection. “It’s great. Perfect.”
Milo leant in to steal a kiss, to a whoop from the crowd, and then turned to accept the sword that was being offered up to him. It was technically his, and he technically knew how to use it, but his efforts tended to err towards the amusing and they both knew it. Now, though, it fit perfectly into his hand, as Kida drew and raised her sword as well so that they pointed skywards, tips almost touching.
“In front of Atlantis, the city and my people,” declared Kida, her voice carrying over the fast-hushing crowd, calling out before turning back to Milo with a softening, sweetening expression. “I take you, Milo Thatch, to be my partner in marriage.”
Milo had tried to explain the differences in concept between ‘husband’ and ‘wife’. Kida had found the idea to be “very sweet”, and reassured Milo that he would not have to be called her wife. He had let it slide.
“In front of Atlantis,” he replied, “the city and my people, I take you, Kidakagash Nedakh, to be my partner in marriage.”
There was one thing that he had decided to bring down from the surface world. As Kida faced him, flushed, triumphant, and he marvelled at how simple it was to declare so much in so few words, he pulled her close and kissed her, his marvellous partner in marriage, his lover and his queen. She laughed into his mouth and kissed him back fervently, whilst her people cheered around them, and he could not help the speculation that, just maybe, he would start a new tradition here.