All Roads Lead to the Same Place

Flik set the wicker basket next to Dot, smiling apologetically when she frowned at the plain-looking loaves. "Sorry, they're out of the blueberry rolls." He picked up one of the loaves and turned it so the sunlight shined off its glaze. "These have honey, though."

"Okay," the small princess said. She took the roll and chewed on it quietly. She glanced at him when he didn't pick one himself. "Aren't you gonna eat, too?"

He tossed the loaf and caught it as if it were a ball, repeating this motion several times. "I'm not that hungry."

Dot hummed and left it at that, returning to her absent chewing.

Flik had to wonder what she might be thinking. Sitting in this place, breaking bread with someone who apparently reminded her of her beloved caretaker, did she find it anything like her memories? Was it even right for him to do this in place of someone else? But he didn't know what else to do. This was the only thing he knew to do that could lift her spirits. Close as they seemed now, he didn't know her well at all.

Or maybe he just forgot.

Did he… really want to know? Though he knew that his memory loss must be painful to anyone he left behind, knowing was so far apart from seeing what he might have caused. Here was a little girl who only knew a loving brother who suddenly dropped off the face of the earth. No explanation, no clue to what happened, yet she'd been waiting for him ever since. She did not realize how her unwavering faith might have been in vain. She did not know that she was abandoned, whether necessary or not.

And then Princess Atta… She already had to shoulder her guilt alone. If it turned out she was forgotten too, what must she be feeling? Did she know? Did she think that was her fault as well? But she didn't do anything wrong.

Feeling nauseous, Flik set the bread roll back in the basket. That was all the more reason to know, wasn't it? All this time, he'd had the impression that her untold tale had ended in tragedy. This new revelation, if true, could change everything.

"What could change everything?" Dot piped up.

Sheepish, the mechanic turned to her. "Did I say that out loud?"

"You were muttering," she replied, "and doing that thing with your hands like you're moving a ball back and forth."

That wasn't good. "How much did you hear," he asked warily.

"Just the last part, so what is it?"

"I can't say, not until I make sure." Sighing, Flik turned away to stare at his knees. Anywhere but at her. "Let's just say I heard a sad story, but the ending is pretty unclear."

"Can you tell me? Maybe I can help figure it out."

He hastily shook his head. "It's too sad right now."

Dot paused. From the corner of his eye, Flik could see her frown. "It wouldn't happen to be about you, would it?"

"No, it's not." It wasn't a lie. "As you can see, I'm fine."

"Even with the memory thing?"

"Dot," he chided, then sighed again, "yeah, even that."

Again she hummed. "You're not sad?"

"That's…" He started to reflect. His situation was bittersweet, and he couldn't deny that the past week hadn't been very good for him. Scratch that, a lot had happened since coming to this kingdom. Even the joyful moments would be ruined not a day afterwards. But he did have joyful moments. He had friends, a job, food, and shelter; lacking in nothing except literal soul. "That's the uncertain part, I guess."

Dot jumped to her feet and pointed at him. "Aha! So it is about you!"

He had to chuckle at that. "Maybe." Again, not a lie.

The young princess grinned. At least she seemed to have cheered up. "You'll tell me all about it when you figure it out, won't you?"

Could he really do that? This must be what his friends felt whenever they had to withhold truths from him. She asked so hopefully that he didn't want to think about crushing that hope. Wonder where she got that from… "It's really not a happy story. Are you sure you want to know?"

She tilted her head. "Isn't it better to know?"

He had to smile at that. "I think so."

Satisfied, Dot sat down again and grabbed another bread roll to munch on. "If you ask me, I think your story isn't so sad anymore."

Flik took a roll himself and bit down. "I guess you're right."

But he hoped to fix it anyway.

Sometimes, more often than she'd like to admit, Atta had to remind herself to breathe. It was so easy to mess up the flow when she was uncomfortable, and few things brought her more discomfort than a dance with Hopper.

The gods were incomprehensible in their ways: why they required two people to save an entire world, why those two had to be engaged though they might hate each other, why they had to have a dance as part of the Union's ritual. Not once had they ever explained, they only made known what they needed. What did it matter how the Chosen couple felt about it?

Their bodies pressed together for a spin and Hopper lowered his mouth to Atta's ear. "What are you thinking about?"

She shivered and put her focus into preventing a stumble. "Nothing."

"You should focus on our waltz. You're messing it up."

Atta tried to see where she'd gone wrong. She couldn't find anything. Her steps matched those in the music, neither partner strayed too close nor too far, the transition to a new move flawless, and she kept eye contact with her fiancé when needed.

After he twirled her twice, he spoke again. "There's no passion from your side. Come now, this is a partnership."

So he says, though it sure didn't show with his actions. Hopper led the entire waltz at his pace and his pace alone. Atta had no choice but to keep up or fall behind, sometimes literally. For this reason, their dance had to be generic and easy to learn rather than something unique as per tradition. Their glide over the ballroom floor was the product of her having to adapt according to his whim. Even if they went with something of their own making, it would only serve to reflect the mess that was their so-called partnership. All that was before taking passion into account.

He dipped her and leaned his face too close to her ear. "You're the imaginative one. Why don't you think of someone else if you have to?"

She turned away. "Please, not now."

He said nothing more and continued as if he hadn't spoken; he'd already planted the idea in her head. It was admittedly hard to imagine how it would play out, but if last night was any indication…

It would be interesting, a way for both to fly despite only one having wings.

Lost in her thoughts, she couldn't pay attention to the pace of her real partner, and so she tripped over his feet. She recovered with the full expectation of carrying on, but Hopper for some reason had stopped, leading to her bumping into him. Two blunders in less than a minute. She mentally kicked herself for her carelessness.

The music stopped as well, at least that which was played by hands. "I think we need a break," Hopper told them with thinly veiled mocking in his concern. He led her away; no one dared to follow, allowing them privacy. "You're absolutely sure you don't want anything?"

Not this again. "Why do you keep bringing it up?" Atta questioned, too flustered to be anything but overwhelmed. "What can you possibly gain from this?"

"Is it so hard to believe that maybe I want my betrothed to be happy?" Hopper chuckled and pulled her closer to him. His hand on her arm kept her standing. "What I don't understand is how you can pass up this chance."

She tore herself away. Surprisingly, he let her. "Because I learned my lesson."

"Hm, yes, that kind of thing would change anyone, wouldn't it?" he said. It irked her how sympathetic he sounded. "But this time you'll have me in your corner. You know I have the means to make sure you keep your present for the rest of your days. Aren't you lucky to be engaged to a king, above the law?" He shushed her before she could get a word out. "No need to be hasty, Princess, at least give it some thought. Don't take too long, though. This is a limited time offer." With that, he finally left her, left the ballroom altogether. Their time together for the day was over.

Atta's own entourage escorted her back to her room, and she did think along the way. She thought about all the time she wasted skirting around, about her decisions, about inevitability. When her door closed and locked behind her, she leaned against it and slid to the ground.

She hated how right Hopper was. The Middle Ground was already very protective over its Chosen. It punished anyone who harmed them physically, even they themselves weren't exempt. Now Hopper was king and nobody could stop him from doing whatever he wanted. If he was faultless in anything, it was in keeping promises. But these walls did not need another prisoner.

The alternative did not bode well either. Who knows what would happen to Flik with a target now painted on his back? Worse still, he was none the wiser. He wouldn't even know unless someone pointed it out. The worst thing she could do was leave him in the dark any longer, unable to prepare for the danger stalking him. He needed the truth; and he needed it from someone who saw the bigger picture, knew what went on on both sides of the palace walls, was united in both past and present.

He needed Atta.

There would be questions. There was the risk that he would relapse, but there were far worse people to cause it than the princess. Just moments ago she danced with someone who wouldn't bat an eye at a writhing body. So she had to be the one to go.

Besides, she thought as she blushed, there was a chance that everything would be all right.

Something hit the back of her head and jarred her out of her thoughts. She moved away to see the small service window in her door open inwards and a cloche-covered tray slide through. She grabbed it and prepared to hastily thank the servant on the other side.

Dot's miffed face showed. "Were you leaning on the door again?" she asked, unlocking said door and letting herself into the room.

Atta had to smile, her sister's appearance a welcome distraction. "Sorry Dot, force of habit."

"You better be! I almost dropped our food!" Dot complained, yet joined her on the ground. "That tray's really heavy."

"You never had problems before. What did you bring?" Atta made to lift the cloche.

"Wait!" The younger princess stopped her and grabbed the knob first, much to the elder's amusement. "I wanna show you."

"Be my guest."

So Dot lifted the cloche to reveal two meals, but one of them rested on a familiar box. "Ta-da! Flik wanted me to give it to you." She took the box and gave it to Atta, ignorant of the growing dread. "Open it! I wanna see what's inside."

"You didn't look?"

The small princess groaned. "You're just like Flik! How come nobody trusts me with stuff like this?"

Shaking her head and forcing herself to maintain her smile, Atta stared at the box first. As far as her sister was concerned, she had no reason not to open it. She only needed to be ready to answer any questions. The sketches were easy enough to explain now that she and Flik had properly met in the eyes of the younger princess.

Atta forced back the guilt of hiding from her sister once again, and right after she resolved to tell Flik the truth. Just a little more, please. One at a time, she reasoned.

So she opened the box. She saw his letter before anything else.

Take as much time as you need. I'll wait for however long it takes.

There was no time left to spare.

Flik stuck another piece of wood into the fire and rested his head on his arms again. His eyes felt heavy with the need to sleep. Dozing off here might not be a good idea, though. If his friends found out he wasn't in bed and then found him out here, they wouldn't trust him alone for the next few nights. Surveillance was the last thing he needed at this time.

Still, staying up in fatigue does take quite a toll. After returning to the tent, he'd passed the hours until the night getting all his work done so he would have nothing he needed finishing. Not once did he take a break. He tried once and his thoughts flooded him with the threat to overwhelm him. All that energy and anticipation had to go somewhere, except now he was exhausted and anticipating. It was arguably a worse feeling.

Luckily, he didn't have to wait much longer. Alertness woke him up gradually alongside gentle buzzing growing louder. He heard the sand shift beneath her before he saw her. "Princess Atta, you're here," he greeted her happily despite how tired he felt. His cheerfulness faltered, however, when he saw the serious look on her face. "What's the matter?"

She wasted no time trying to pull him to his feet. "We can't stay here. C'mon."

"Wait, wait, what's going on?"

"I'll explain later. Please, let's just go." Her reply sounded so desperate that he had no choice but to oblige.

He let her lead him to the forest, until the light of the fire and moon and stars was far behind them. Even when they stopped, she didn't let go of his hand. It was so dark where they were that, if not for her touch, he would have thought her outline was a figment of his imagination. Maybe she was and he was dreaming.

Flik began to worry when she hadn't said a word for a while. "Princess?"

Her grip tightened.

He rested his free hand over hers. "Princess—"

"Just," she choked out, "just give me a moment."

He felt a squeeze around his heart and he began to doubt. A little fearful of what was to come, he tried to salvage the situation. "I-is it about the letter? Did I say something weird?" he fretted, pulling his resting hand away. He couldn't get the other free. "Don't worry about it! I don't know what I was thinking when I wrote it."

"Flik, stop it."

"Maybe I'm reading too much into things, you know? I'm sorry, I know you took your time coming out here and—"

She whirled on him. "Let me think!" It was not quite a snap, but it was sharp enough to warrant a pause. She did not need the remorse that came to her face anyway. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that."

He started fretting anew. "No, Princess Atta, there's nothing to be sorry for."

The Princess shook her head. "You have no idea how untrue that is," she said. Though Flik couldn't see her well, he could feel her eyes on his heart. Her hold loosened somewhat. She breathed deeply. "How could you know? I never let you. Now you're in danger and it's all my fault."

"What do you mean, 'danger?'" Flik thought about last night. "Did someone see us together?"

Again her head shook. She looked at him and seemed to brace herself. "No, but…" Her hands began to glow a little. The color may be different, but Flik knew that kind of glow anywhere. "It's my fiancé, he saw you."

It shouldn't have surprised him in the least. A day's speculation should have prepared him, but it didn't. Maybe the denial that had been enough to keep him under control had also been enough to prevent the guards being put up.

"He recognized you."

Or maybe it would have spiked him regardless, because he couldn't imagine any damper version of this feeling.

His own words slipped out. "You're talking about Hopper, aren't you?"

Her sharp gasp cut into him. "Y-you met Hopper?" she questioned desperately. "What did he say? What did he tell you?"

"Nothing," because that man hadn't said anything, not directly, "but he was being obvious. He told me about an inventor he knew, how I was 'identical' to him." That creepy intrigue, all that comparing, discussing a seemingly irrelevant person; it made Flik feel stupid for not realizing.

The facts he knew about himself and those that he learned about the Princess' inventor had lined up like two trails of matches. Hopper, the fiancé, knowing who Flik was all along was the connecting match between the two. What were the odds that both betrothed knew an inventor who met a tragic end? Except now it wasn't so tragic, was it?

Which meant…

"He knows me."

"Flik…"

"And… so do you."

Another spike, more painful and constricting in his chest, gave him warning. It was coming. He felt the edges of his soul straining not to collapse again, just like the first night. He tore his held hand free and drew his arms to himself in a futile attempt to add support to his center. His lungs felt shoved and crushed by the pressure. His eyes shut tightly and his legs buckled until he fell on his knees. He heard Princess Atta cry his name, but he could not respond. His only focus now was trying not to let the pain overtake him.

A draft tried to push past his skin; he blocked it out.

"What are you doing, Flik?!" cried the Princess. "You need to sleep!"

It was such a tempting thing to take that way out, but he forced himself to resist another draft. "I… won't!"

"Why not?!"

Winded, he fell from his knees to curl up on the ground. Hard as it was to breathe, he inhaled if only to ease the burning in his chest. "I'm done… waiting!"

And he was. It had to mean something that he was able to hold off both a sleep spell and a relapse. He'd wanted this for the entirety of his current life. He wasn't going to let go without a fight.

Princess Atta's hand never left his head. "Don't do this. Please, let me help you!"

Flik managed to crack an eye open and locked contact with hers. "Then help me." It came out harsher than he meant for it. He hoped his expression was at least assuring. "Give me the truth."

"I can't!"

"Princess, please…!" He curled a little tighter. Blocking out the sleeping spell meant he couldn't brace himself for the shocks. "I don't"—he groaned at another spike—"want to forget again."

"You have to! This isn't worth it."

"It is. It's… okay." Fighting the ever-growing urge to try to claw his heart, he reached for the hand still trying to push the spell into his head. It took all his will not to grip it. "I think—I am ready."

"How can you know that? How?"

There were so many answers, so many things he could have told her, but he couldn't arrange the words. So he had to borrow. "Souls thrive on love, right?" It must be a trick of the mind, but he thought the pain ebbed a little.

Enough for him to smile through it, to speak once more.

"And I love you."

Flik blushed upon realizing what he just said. Truth that it may be, now was one of the least ideal times to say such a thing. When wet drops fell on his face, his embarrassment quickly mixed with guilt. He didn't mean to make her cry. How could he have thought it was a good idea?

But he didn't get the chance to apologize. Suddenly he felt her body drape over him, arms wrapping around him and hands grasping him as if afraid he would vanish if she didn't cling to him. The Princess' shuddering gasps were so close that he could hear her ready to break. He wondered how he could have missed that she held so much back.

"Could you…" For how much she quivered, she sounded strangely calm. "…say it again?"

So surprised was he that he was rendered speechless.

"Please." She buried her face into his shoulder and turned it damp. "I need to hear it. Please, tell me again."

He couldn't deny her even if he wanted to. Flik embraced her as best he could. "I love you." The void within him shrank a little more.

"Again?"

He obliged. "I love you, Princess Atta."

She tensed. "Again," she said, "but no title this time."

His cheeks burned. "I l-love"—he paused so he wouldn't bite his tongue—"I love you, Atta."

Then she let out a teary laugh. "Thank you. You don't know how much it means to me, to finally hear you say that." Her body wracked with a sob. "I love you too, Felix…!"

Suddenly, Flik's heart panged in a whole new way. Not painful in the least, but an explosion all the same. "W-what did you say?"

Pr—Atta pulled away. Somehow he could see her smile at him. So joyful. "Felix. Your real name."

The explosion became a warmth quickly expanding. His vision blurred as his eyes flooded. "It isn't 'Ninety-Eight?'"

"Is that what Hopper told you?" Her face twisted. "No, it's just a number. I wasn't content with that."

What does that mean? he thought and wished he could say. He could only grit his teeth lest he be overwhelmed.

"Seeing you always made me happy," she continued, softening again. "You gave me so much, but I didn't know what to give you in return."

Could it be? Surely not…

"When you told me that you didn't have a name, well, it was perfect."

"Names are so much more than labels. Your feelings, your hopes, and everything around you can influence the choice."

"He just inspired me."

"I would never forget!"

In that instant, Flik forgot what emptiness felt like.

Finally, the truth comes out.