Holy SHOOT! It's been over two years and I finally, finally, FINALLY have enough words to post! I wanted this to be longer, but I figured for the sake of pacing I'll deliver this and hopefully bring the next chapter to you quickly! I have a good chunk in mind already.

For all who are still interested in following, THANK YOU for your patience. Now, enjoy!

Appearance

"I never thought I'd use this," Flik muttered, adjusting his grip on a certain bag of gold. On the one hand he'd be glad to be rid of it, but he'd really been hoping to somehow return it so he didn't feel indebted. "Guess it won't be a problem if I don't see him again." Somehow, he doubted it would be that simple.

But what other choice did he have? He couldn't afford a doctor on his own, and he didn't want to ask anyone in the troupe for help. Neither did he want them knowing he was going to see a doctor anyway. They didn't need to worry about his physical well-being on top of his usual predicament.

Flik touched his eye, the weird one, and frowned. He really couldn't feel anything in there, could see perfectly out of it, but he knew what he saw. Things like that shouldn't show up out of nowhere. Maybe a doctor wasn't the best person to go to, but one could look at a physical change and point him in the right direction. At the very least, he could make sure it wasn't the oddest cataract he'd ever seen.

It very likely wasn't, but he wasn't sure he was prepared for what it could be.

Before he knew it, he was in front of a door with a snake entwining a staff. Time to face the music, he supposed as he entered into a small waiting room. A chime sounded overhead, probably loud enough to be heard past the walls—scratch that, definitely loud enough to be heard past the walls.

The door on the other side of the room opened before Flik could step towards one of the couches. "Wasn't expecting anyone at this time," said the newcomer, the doctor, by the sounds of it. "Well, I'm Dr. Fol. What seems to be troubling you, young man?"

Straight to the point, it seems. "The name's Flik, and I just came to check something out." Flik pointed towards his face. "See, there's this thing in my right eye, and I was wondering—Ah!" A light from nowhere shined right in, causing him to squint.

"Keep your eye open, please." He obeyed with great difficulty, and managed to spy a frown on the doctor's face despite the bright light. "What in the world? Is that a tattoo?"

"A what? In my eye?"

"Not seeing any sign of infection. It's incredibly well-done for something so experimental," the doctor muttered on before pulling away, "but you said there's something in there. Can you describe the feeling? Any pain or discomfort?"

Flik blinked a few times to get his vision back to normal. "N-no, and that's what's weird about it. I didn't know that thing was there until this morning."

Dr. Fol lifted a disbelieving brow. "You're saying it just appeared? You haven't gone to some back-alley tattoo artist for it?"

"Pretty sure I'd rather not poke a needle in my eye, thanks."

"Doesn't have to be a needle. The right people can use magic, but I strongly discourage that for obvious reasons, not least of which is the loss of sight." The doctor watched him carefully, puzzled. "You really don't know?"

"Even if I did, I'd very much like to keep both my eyes." The very idea had Flik wincing. "I swear I didn't do anything. I can still see perfectly fine, too."

"I'll need to run some tests to verify that, but… you don't seem to be lying." Dr. Fol held up a finger. "Cover your left eye and try to follow this." The doctor moved his finger every which way, movements unpredictable, and looked troubled when Flik tracked it without fail. "You're able to at least tell shapes or colors, or both. Let's have you read these next." And out came a sheet with letters of varying sizes on them, many of which Flik could read just fine.

Everything was fine.

Dr. Fol fixed a pensive look on Flik. "I'm not in the business to waste time, so I'll give it to you straight." He shrugged and shook his head. "There's nothing I can do."

"That's it?" Flik couldn't decide whether to be relieved or even more worried. "Can you at least tell me what's wrong with my eye?"

"I can't, because there's nothing wrong that I can see," said the doctor, scribbling down his findings. "I've had patients come in with tattoos, and not one came as unscathed as you. I can't in good conscience give a diagnosis when I can't get enough to work with."

"But h-how can that be? People like me don't just get shapes appearing for no reason."

"Correct. I'm not saying something isn't up." Dr. Fol looked into Flik's right eye, then looked back down to sketch on the scroll. He rolled it up and held it out to Flik the moment he finished. "I don't normally recommend this to patients, but I think your best bet will be to head to the chapel."

"Chapel?" Flik repeated. "You mean with priests?"

"Those hands are too intricate to have been anything except intelligently designed, and considering where they're placed..." Fol's voice took on a solemn tone. "Something tells me you already know where I'm going with this."

Princess Atta appeared in Flik's mind, but he shook the thought of her away. "Can you really say something like that?"

"Inquire with a priest, and they'll want to look into it. They can actually confirm it."

That was reasonable, he supposed. If the symbol came from where he thought it did, the priests would be able to tell him what it meant: whether it was something grand or nothing at all. Once again, Princess Atta came to mind. "Wonder what it all means."

"I'd defer to the experts on that. As it is now, I've done all I can do." Putting his materials away, Dr. Fol put on a polite smile. "With that said, if there's nothing else, I believe there's one last thing we should discuss."

Ah, that part should be easy (he wanted this gold gone), but Flik did partly hope he would have at least enough to bring food back to his friends. He had volunteered to go on that lunch run, after all.

Atta woke to sunlight in her eyes.

She hadn't thought much of it at first, her sleep-haze only calling her to pull her covers over her head until she could get her bearings, but then it slowly dawned on her that she'd slept until what must have been around noon. At what other time could the sun wake her by shining in her eyes?

Part of her wanted to pull the covers over her so she could drift back to sleep, but the more responsible side of her urged her up. As much as she appreciated the break, she couldn't bring herself to relax. She could practically feel time slipping by.

Atta threw the blankets off her and made her way to the door. There was a string she could pull to ring the bell at the entrance to her tower. Maybe she could get an explanation.

She waited at the door for someone to come up.

Someone did, but not a servant.

The door opened and caused her to back away in a hurry so she wouldn't be caught in its swing. When she was a safe distance away, she gave her guest a proper look. "Mother?"

Indeed, the Queen entered bearing a tea set on a tray. "Good afternoon, dear. I hope you slept well."

Atta had in fact slept very well, but she couldn't say the same for her mother. Mother's eyes seemed to show her age more and more each day, and her smile seemed very sad. Her outer cloak seemed as if it would fall off her frame despite how securely fastened it truly was. Her posture was slightly hunched with an invisible burden.

It was, sadly, not an unusual sight.

Immediately, Atta guided her to the nearest chair. "Mother, should you really be up here? It's such a long way."

"What kind of mother would I be if I didn't spare a little effort for my daughter?" Mother replied with a dry laugh. She proceeded to arrange the tea set on the table.

Atta closed the door, frowning a slight at the familiar click of the lock. "Is there something special about today?"

Mother shook her head and began to pour the tea. "It's just been some time since we properly spent time together," she said, "so I freed up some of our schedules."

"At a time like this?"

"I know time is short, but"–Mother sighed–"surely there is some allowance. This whole thing must be taxing enough on you without a break." She beckoned to her daughter. "Come, sweetheart, while it's still daylight."

Atta joined her mother, not caring if she looked too thankful for the break.

"I brought your favorites."

"Thank you." Atta took up her cup, first taking in its scent of fresh raspberries. She perked at the taste. "Oh, it's your blend!"

"I'm glad you recognize it," said Mother. "I was worried I'd be too out of practice. When was the last time you had this?"

"I can't even remember."

A pause, and then Mother continued a little hastily: "I suppose it doesn't matter now."

"Guess not." Atta took another sip, buying herself time to think of something to say. It just needed to be casual and nothing more. "The town… Have you heard anything interesting?" she started. "I haven't caught anything on the telescope, but maybe there's something going on that I just can't hear."

"Nothing out of the ordinary, I'm afraid," Mother replied. "Then again, that's probably a good thing."

"You're not bored? I know how much you love to gossip."

Mother gave a dramatic gasp. "Gossip, me? What kind of queen would indulge in that?" She laughed and shook her head. "Oh, who am I kidding? You know I love a good distraction."

"You really don't have one in mind?"

"If I did, I'll need a moment to remember it. My memory isn't quite what it used to be." Suddenly her mirth cut off; Atta hadn't realized what it meant at first.

She sought to focus her gaze on her drink in order to avoid the inevitable guilt in her mother's eyes, but the air felt all the heavier for it. No wonder it did; hers was still a reaction. Now a quiet conversation lingered between them, becoming more and more tense with assumptions the longer no words came forward to reel them in.

"Ahem." Mother coughed to break the silence. "Well, I'm sure I have something from all that our people have been bringing up…" Her eyes turned this way and that as she thought, and she muttered things that Atta couldn't quite hear. Seconds soon became minutes, but she hadn't come to something yet.

Atta already had a fair guess why. "Mother, you don't need to go out of your way to avoid certain… topics… with me," she said, her tone gentle and tired.

The Queen seemed to want to argue, but quickly became just as resigned. "I wish we had more things to talk about than reminders of what's to come," she sighed, looking for once like a woman soon to mourn. "I'm sorry, my dear. I just wanted us to have a normal tea time."

"I know. It just still doesn't change what's happening now." The princess gave her as best a reassuring smile as she could. "So, what's been going on in the town lately?"

After some lingering hesitation, Mother conceded with a dry smile. "Very well. I guess to start, there's been a trend of young folk decorating themselves out of solidarity for you."

"Decoration? Whatever happened to just having flowers?"

"Something about wanting to have permanent reminders for themselves. It's a sweet sentiment, don't you think?" And the conversation would evolve to such things as developing substitute foods, a rise in the popularity of fictional writings, to even how the circus seemed to have solidified its place as a highlight of the fair.

All the while as the Queen spoke of the goings on of the world that passed her by, Atta listened with interest that surprised even herself. If she was to be honest, she did think things related to her role would sting more than it did now. How glad she was that it wasn't the case, so that the time her mother set aside for her would be a good memory to take with her.

And when she'd exhausted all her stories, Mother put her teacup down for the final time and reached her hand to her daughter's. "I know I haven't been the best mother to you, dear. I'm so sorry for every mistake I've made," she said, rubbing her thumb over the tensing skin. "You don't have to forgive me, but I hope you at least know how proud I am of you, Atta."

She indeed felt bitterness, but the warmth of her mother's love gave Atta enough mind to push it down. "This whole thing's been hard on both of us, but you tried. I think that matters a lot."

Somehow this hurt more than any other part of their time together. Atta suddenly felt the weight of how much she would miss her family, of the rare yet mundane things she would get to do when her mother allowed, of even her lonely daily life. That touch of impending loss of what she took for granted loomed over her and pressed down on her heart.

Then her hearing filled with song.

Even though she knew it couldn't be her music box, she looked towards its hiding place anyway. Undisturbed, of course it was. No one else had come in and no one knew where she kept it anyway.

"Atta?" And the fact that her mother couldn't hear it meant it could only come from one other place.

Perhaps it was because she wasn't used to it yet, perhaps it was because she really was the only one who could hear it, but she began to ease. Her natural loathing and defenses against the Middle Ground's singing hadn't yet adapted to account for Felix. She was weak to its pull. Heat gathered in her face, especially at her cheeks and around her mouth, as the most prominent recent memory rose to the forefront of her mind.

Oddly enough, this very thing brought her back to her senses and she realized the strangeness of it all.

Why? Why now, and what did it mean? The need to know gripped her like a vice, and felt as much. "Mother, I–"

The Queen gasped. Her grip still on Atta's hand tightened and quivered. For a moment, the princess wondered if maybe her mother did hear the tune somehow. Yet it wasn't so.

Atta never thought too hard before about the empty pot by her bedside, a humble little clay thing that she was instructed to never plant anything in. Oh, she disliked it all the same for what it was for, but it had faded into the background amongst all the other reminders she had to face. What was one more? It was just a bonus that it didn't look dressed up, so that she could pass over it.

Of course it would be the most unassuming thing that brought forth the most deceptively beautiful sign.

Blooming out of the pot were purple and white hydrangeas surrounded by a stream of violets.

These days, the chapel had become quite a hot spot in the Anterrian capital. Residents and visitors, young and old, rich and poor; all sorts of people would come and pray for the times ahead.

Cornelius would hear their concerns and give the best advice he could, and maybe humor a request or two to seek an inkling from divine forces for what to expect, but he must himself confess he was just as helpless as the rest of them. He was only a high priest, not a god who could influence their world. All were at the mercy of the declines and the hopeful recovery period.

He supposed it was only a matter of time before the Queen came through the doors. As a matter of fact, she burst through the doors, startling all who had been in the building. More concerning was that she entered pale as a fresh sheet.

"Your Majesty?" Cornelius reached out to her as she rushed forward, but she passed him by.

He barely heard her order as her form quickly made for the prayer halls: "I'll be in the farthest room. Make sure no one disturbs me unless it's urgent."

Ah, so it was nearly time.

Cornelius faced away from where the Queen went, solemnly carrying on his current duties. His heart did ache for her, dear friend that she was, so he offered up his own quiet prayer for her and the whole of the kingdom. It would be a long prayer as well, as was fitting for the high priest.

Or it should have been a long prayer, had it not been interrupted when he spied the doors opening to reveal–

What was he doing here?!

Last-minute disclaimer here. Dr. Fol is not based on any character in the movie. I just needed a doctor and I didn't want Dr. Flora to show up yet (also she's a royal doctor, need special access).