A/N: Aha, an update. Amazing. Okay, so I should be studying for my preliminary exams tomorrow. Eh, this morning. But this chapter's been tempting me since Sunday and I simply could not resist anymore. One chapter left. [This was meant to be the last chapter, however, I felt it was too long so now we have chapter 5!] Tell me what you think, 'kay? I'm thinking I made some mistakes while writing this. But oh well.

Part IV

In which Love isn't about hugs and kisses alone, but also about heartbreak and misunderstandings.

The kingdom was in mourning, a somber, stifling cloud of gloom hanging over its people. They watched each other warily even though their sympathy toward each other was still recognizable. To have lost a High Priest these days and not find his body were omens of impending doom, and they feared for their lives. The pharaoh greeted them everyday, giving hollow reassurances when everyone could see how the monarch was barely gathering his own sanity. Atemu's complexion was unnaturally pale and he looked frail. Like he had been bound and dragged forcible by a chariot of wild, unstoppable horses.[1] His exhaustion was loud and clear in his monotonous voice and everyday, Atemu looked worse than before.

While the council proceeded with their usual affairs, Atemu remained quiet and overseeing. Shadi's and Karimu's voices blended into incoherent yaps and he fought the urge to hush them both. Since Mahado's unexpected death, nothing had been the same. Ishizu had regressed into herself, mind encased in regret and grief as she thought back to waking one day to predict Mahado's death. Shadi and Karimu, although livelier than everyone else, had toned down, arguing in conferences like this instead of exchanging verbal jabs and playful banter. It was their way of coping—to settle issues as soon as possible; however, with the rate they were going, it seemed like both priests were never finishing anything today. There was only one remaining priest that Atemu had strayed from thinking about. And yet, in an attempt to concentrate on the topic at hand, Atemu made the mistake of looking at Seth and the unoccupied seat beside the priest.

Mahado used to sit there.

His cousin was alluring as ever. A dangerous, passionate aura still reverberated while everyone else's dimmed at Mahado's demise. And he couldn't resist but let himself feel the pull. To feel the tug as if Seth was the center of gravity.[2] Seth turned to him, all frosty glares and masked eyes and Atemu couldn't help but shudder under his gaze. Atemu looked away and closed his eyes, sighing heavily. He was just too…tired. His weariness brought about a wave of dizziness and without thinking, he slightly slumped forward, hands on the armrests of his throne. Seth's words were blunt and sharp at the same time, slicing through even after days had passed. Atemu couldn't take it: Seth's hatred. Seth's disgust.

"Don't ever come near me again."

The pharaoh couldn't breathe, chest heaving with the limited air that it had managed to inhale. He shook his head, unaware that he had begun catching the attention of his priests. There was just too much pressure on his chest.

"My lord, are you well?" Ishizu interrupted, putting the debate to a stop as everyone stared at an obviously distressed Atemu. Atemu nodded stoically even though his breath was shaky.

"Continue."

Seth raised an eyebrow, suspicion and skepticism evident in his eyes, but he remained silent. If Atemu wanted to play this game, then fine.

"In light of High Priest Mahado's death, I believe appointing someone to replace him is in order," Karimu suggested, voice having fallen into a whisper. Like he didn't really want to mention it. The pharaoh knew where this was headed. He knew why Karimu raised the issue but no one could take Mahado's place. It was too late for the Ceremony.

"Mana was his star pupil," Shadi added, siding with Karimo for the first time in days. They looked at the monarch, questions of Is this alright, sire? and Are we really going to do this, Atemu? on their faces. As much as they were bound by duty, they were still Atemu's friends foremost, and… really, what kind of friend would they be if they let themselves kill him?

But the questions weren't answered, Atemu's nod giving them the sign that he was ignoring their concerns. It was too late. Even if—assuming that he lived, what else could he do if he'd already lost the person he was doing this for?

The conversation continued with Mana's credentials. Atemu couldn't help but to chuckle bitterly to himself, remembering Mahado's half-fond, half-exasperated comments about the girl they were talking about. Mahado had had high hopes for her, true, but he would always try to shield the girl from the brutal realities of a High Priestess' duties. You don't even know what your teachings have given her.

Mahado's words were all that echoed in Atemu's head now, and he missed his friend intensely. It wasn't Mahado's fault that he and Seth were no longer together. There were things that even a High Priest couldn't control. It was Atemu's fault. For letting it happen. For not seeing the signs. And he let Mahado die. You always let people die.

"Sire, are we boring you?" Seth's voice broke through the defensive, self-loathing haze that had enshrouded the pharaoh.

Those were the first words Seth had said to him, and he looked up in a start, meeting Seth's eyes. Gods, they were the deepest, mysterious set of blue eyes Atemu had ever seen and he felt his breath being taken away. Seth had taken his headdress off, once again breaking protocol that Atemu didn't feel the need to chide him for. His rich brown locks were disheveled, carelessly framing Seth's handsome, angular face. And it was to this sight that Atemu turned away, chest hurting with longing and regret.

"No, please continue," he rasped.

Atemu sighed and looked away, avoiding Seth's gaze as much as possible. As much as he missed Mahado, it was nothing compared to the emptiness that he felt as he watched his cousin from afar. The impact of watching Seth pretend that he didn't exist was almost physical. And Atemu guessed that it really wasn't Seth's avoidance that bothered him. Not really.

It was the fact that somehow Atemu wanted things to be this way for Seth's own good. It was the safest way to ensure that Seth would do the rational thing at the end of the day. That by creating this schism, he was teaching Seth to be away from him and to think for himself. Be free of the burden of looking after him; of the pain that Atemu was definitely going to cause him.

This is so unfair.

Wasn't it? That he was going to die and Seth would continue to despise him, see him as the person who broke his heart and torn his trust in two. That he would never see Atemu's death as a sacrifice so they would a future. Together. That it was all for Seth…

"Sire, you cannot continue doing this," Ishizu reprimanded as soon as the meeting ended.

"Do what?" Atemu feigned ignorance.

Ishizu looked at him, her disapproval clear on her face and for once, Atemu didn't mind it. Didn't care because honestly, would it even matter at the end of the day?

"I appreciate your concern, Ishizu," Atemu said anyway. Thought that she at least deserved to have her efforts recognized but she refused to back down. "I do." I just don't really care what happens anymore.

Ishizu seemed to pick the thought up. "But?"

"But…" The pharaoh sighed. "I'm going to die, Ishizu. Do you think I want him to know that? To leave him and know for a fact that I'd just hurt him even more?"

"It's better than dying and letting him hate you forever for it." Come on, Atemu.

"I can accept that."

"With all due respect, then you are a fool, sire."

Maybe.

Her words were harsh but her intentions were clear, and Atemu couldn't fault her for that. But that didn't mean anything because his mind was made up and he was going to push through with this, whether Seth knew the truth or not.

"I'm sorry you think that way. I'm not going to change my mind. You know that. Good day, Ishizu."

He walked away, sighing heavily to himself and didn't notice the tall figure watching them, having apparently eavesdropped, step back and stiffly head to the other direction.

XXX

After coincidentally eavesdropping (although overhearing would be the more politically-correct term) on Ishizu and Atemu, Seth started to notice the subtle changes in everyone's routines. Normally the servants would be seen resting during the free time they had between breakfast and lunch, in the gardens gossiping with the guards. Lately, they were often missing—busy with 'kitchen preparations' and assisting the other priests and scribes. For a palace facing a possible siege, the palace was swamped with non-military tasks. Weird. Speaking of weird, his fellow High Priests had also become busier with teaching and temple service. Every morning Seth would watch Karimu leave the temple of Horus, only to be replaced by Shadi and Ishizu.

Ishizu.

Ever since her conversation with the Pharaoh, Ishizu had been unfailingly morose and irritable. The normally sweet-natured priestess was rumored to have acerbically reprimanded a young servant to the point of tears. Initially, Seth blamed the grief. Ishizu felt particularly close to Mahado and might really be hurting due to unrequited, unannounced feelings. When as Seth rounded on a corner and saw Karimu and Atem—the Pharaoh, he cursed and went the other way.

How sad really, this situation with his estranged cousin. They never avoided each other in the past, no matter how furious they were. Then again, considering what happened, wasn't it safe to say that this time around, the circumstances were very different? Still, it was sad. How many days had it been since catching Mahado and Atemu in each other's arms? How many nights since then did he spend writhing in his unfamiliar bed, dreaming of the Pharaoh in ways he shouldn't, and remembering deftly that once upon a time, Atemu in his arms felt the best thing ever? How many times did he wonder how what happened, happened? Countless, it seemed, and Seth's body showed the signs of its burden—bone-wearied, almost-sagging shoulders, circles under hooded eyes and lips curled in a perpetual frown. This… disaster had to stop.

"Father, it's been two years. When is my mother coming back?" At 12 years old, Seth was still trying to master his would-be trademark piercing stare. Until then, it could be as intimidating as an owl would gaze—straight but unstaring, all the more suspicious. Akunadin, powerful as he was, was not the least intimidated. He , after all, raised his son well and soon the throne would rightfully be his.

"She's never coming back, my son."

"Why not?" Coming from anyone else, it would have come out as a childish whine. One that refused to believe the truth, that insisted to have his way regardless of consequences and justifications. From Seth, it was objective. Matter-of-factly in the sense that it begged no sugar-coating; just the plain truth. It didn't take long for him to figure it out. Seth, in spite of all, gasped and stared at his father, whose unmoved gaze was fixed at him, in utmost horror.

"You had her killed," Seth whispered, eyes wide and watering. He ran towards his father, enraged and feeling bold enough to glare at the man and maybe hurt him a little with his feeble attempts to punch the elderly priest. "She was my mother!"

"And she was my wife."

"Then why…? Why kill her?"

Akunadin chuckled to himself, pained and wretched. He cautiously pulled and buried his smart boy in his embrace. Seth patiently waited for a response. Upon hearing none, he dared look up and saw the melancholy in his sire's face. Was it because of him or because he killed his wife?

"Father?"

"I loved your mother very much," Akunadin whispered, refusing to voice it out louder. "I tried to give her everything. I would have given her anything had she only asked. Even my life. No, she was my life. But love is a fickle thing, my boy, and it preys on imbeciles. She was clever, and she loved me then loved another when I turn my back.

How could I let her live when so thoughtlessly she discarded mine?"

Seth looked away, digesting the information and refusing to believe it. His mother! The one who sang him lullabies when still a child. The one who gave constant encouragements and praises. Whose hugs calmed him; whose kisses chased away the pain on fresh wound. Would she really…? Seth shook his head in denial. She wouldn't. Akunadin watched him. His father looked so sad. Grieved.

Would she really?

"Love deceives, dear Seth. Best you know this now than suffer from an adulterous lover," his sire advised. As Akunadin left, Seth turned to the setting sun. The last rays of light slowly dimmed and as they did, everything about his mother started to be clouded with doubt. From then on, he would never speak of her again. From then on, he would deal with cheaters gravely.

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Seth shoved the papyrus scroll away. It was no use. He kept getting distracted, and as the days tolled on, the amount of paperwork that needed reviewing piled up. He sighed. Until now he has yet to receive validation of his mother's lover, and therefore could not acertain if his father was telling the truth. Yet the look on Akunadin's face that day was real. Genuine. His words were serious and commanded remembrance.

"Stop it," Seth berated himself. Just as quickly, there was a knock on his door. This was his private bedchamber! Didn't anyone know better than to disturb him? Yanking the door open, he was ready to give the unfortunate soul who knocked an earful when he stopped abruptly and stared instead. Wide, insecure, sky blue eyes held his gaze and the owner blushed. Seth ran a hand through his hair and opened the door more. Wasn't she supposed to be off somewhere? At the lengthening silence, Kisara took this as cue to present her token.

"High Priest Seth," she greeted, bowing respectfully before offering a small wrapped bag. "I haven't properly thanked you. I am truly indebted to you, my lord."

"It's nothing, Kisara," Seth dismissed, hesitating on taking the gift. Even without opening it, he knew it was a carving of some statue. However, upon opening it (finally), came the bigger surprise. The figure was a dragon—fierce-looking, proud and powerful—and it seemed to be lifting something—a tall robed figure—into their as it poised for flight. Seth gasped, remembering the statuette's significance.

"Where did you get this?" He questioned.

"A-at the marketplace. A-are you displeased, my lord? Forgive me. I didn't mean it."

Seth shook his head. How could he explain that this was—he simply didn't like what the statuette reminded him of.

"Thank you, Kisara," he eyed the object in his hand. Not much has changed. Still the same mistakes, rough surfaces, blemishes…

"The vendor, she said it was given to her by the maker. He was from the palace, the maker, I mean. But she neede the money and so, the decision to part with this," the girl explained. Seth simply nodded. He remembered this. he remembered complaining about the wounds afterwards, only to smile besotted as Atemu cleaned them tenderly. He had gotten a kiss for his efforts…

Atemu gave it away?

You promised me. Where are we now?

"I'd like to see you do it next time," Seth sulks as Atemu studies the sculpture. He gazes at his bandaged hand before glancing at the other man. "It's not much but I hope you like it."

Atemu blushes and then nods, eyes dancing in unabashed happiness. Seth smiles to that unconsciously before leaning in and leaving a kiss on Atemu's forehead. The Pharaoh glanced at his priest before kissing him back, choosing to show his thanks rather than say it.

"I love it."

"Of course you do," he spat.

"Sire?"

"I wish to be alone."

The girl nodded but in her haste, she tripped and fell to the floor. Immediately Seth was on her side, guiding her back to the armchair nearby. As he did so, Kisara grasped his front robe tightly, rattled as she was, and puller herself close. It reminded her of the time the High Priest graciously saved her in the past. Oh how badly she had fallen for him then…

"Kisara?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"You can let go now."

Kisara didn't. Bold nimble hands held Seth's face tenderly and bade him to meet her gaze. Without preamble and with Seth's face just a few inches from hers, Kisara closed the distance and placed her lips on his. Seth's eyes widened and reflexively started to pull away, catching her attention. Kisara withdrew and sighed sadly.

"Even for just this night…" she whispered brokenly, "even for this night, I wish you were mine. You have no idea, my lord, just how much I'm in love with you… and I envy him greatly—him, whom you love."

"Kisara—" It took Seth a few moments to gather his thoughts and utter a response. However, by then, Kisara had already moved away, embarrassed by her previous actions. Just this night, she said. Wasn't this better than spending the night alone and wallowing in the resentment and pain that terrorized him lately?

"Excuse me, my lord," Kisara insisted, making a move for a quick exit, which Seth quickly countered as he grabbed for her arm.

"Stay." Seth leaned in and claimed her lips, forgetting about the statuette. If Atemu had forgotten about his promise to keep it, why should Seth make a big issue out of it?

Kisara wrapped her arms around the priest, surrendering to his kisses. It was everything that she ever dreamed of. Since he had saved her back then, she had loved him. And this… this was her chance. This time, no matter how brief, High Priest was hers.

Neither of the two heard the knock on the door, or the sound of the door opening. It was when the pharaoh gasped, eyes wide and far too bright with an indescribable emotion that Seth turned. He paled and couldn't help but echo the pain that he glared at him from Atemu's too-honest eyes. This couldn't be happening.

"Seth…" Atemu whispered in disbelief. He glanced at them fleetingly and for once couldn't explain why his body felt cold all over. He shouldn't have reconsidered going here. Then again, really, why didn't he expect this to happen? Sooner or later his cousin would find someone to replace him. And he wasn't in a hurry, it seems, he quipped sarcastically. Bitterly chuckling to himself, he met Seth's gaze and shook his head, "Forgive me for disturbing. I'll just go."

With surprisingly concealed trembling hands, he reached for the door and closed it just as he left and ran.

Seth was normally a quick mover. Agility was a skill that was taught to them early on, as well as speed. Unfortunately, he somehow couldn't make himself move. Rooted as he was, there was a need to reach out to his pharaoh. To run after him and bridge this gap that came out recently. This was all his fault. Stepping back, he stared at Kisara apologetically before leaving.

As he ran towards the Pharaoh's private chamber, his mind raced. It was stubborn, he realized. His chest constricted painfully at the thought of Atemu's pain, and knowing that he caused it was worse. But Atemu wasn't faultless in this, was he, he still countered.

"The pharaoh, I need to see him right now," he demanded as he reached the doors. The guards looked at him warily before turning to themselves, indecisive. Annoyed, he glared at them. "Didn't you hear me? Open the doors."

"He has ordered us not to let anyone in, sire," the guard to his right replied and in a quieter voice added, "Especially if it was you."

"Damn it, Atemu," he cursed under his breath.

A hand grabbed him from behind and yanked him away. It was Ishizu… and she was livid. Murderous. Just as Seth opened his mouth to talk, the priestess slapped him hard.

"I could kill you, High Priest Seth."

When he didn't voice a response, Ishizu continued, "You send him away for your pre-conceived, unproven notions about him and Mahado, and yet you dally with that woman? You would dare treat him that way? Do you have any idea just what in Ra's name you have done?" If Ishizu had decided to slap him again, Seth was certain it would be a lesser pain compared to the viciousness of her words. "You promised us—you promised me you were never going to hurt him. By your life, you swore. Have you forgotten?"

"Ishizu, I'm—"

"If you apologize, you keep it to yourself. You don't deserve him."

Her comment rattled the guilt-ridden priest and before he could control what he was saying, he muttered, "No one's ever going to deserve the Pharaoh."

"Had you given him a chance to explain himself—had you even believed in him, you would have been the only one who deserves him. But it's too late now, is it? The ceremony's in two days, after all," Ishizu mercilessly spat.

Ceremony?

"What?" He asked dejectedly.

"The Sealing Ceremony takes place then, and you know what that means. I would suggest you do whatever you intend to do immediately." Ishizu shook her head and walked away, wondering why since Mahado died, everything was beginning to crumble.

Seth couldn't utter a word, his gaze unseeing. He felt numb. Floored.

"Hush," he said, claiming Atemu's lips for a kiss. It was slow and gentle, contrary to their fevered kisses. This was bittersweet, long as if this were the only way that Seth could send his message. When they parted, they were both panting, cheeks flushed and eyes already glittering. Seth opened Atemu's clenched fist, putting his palm back on his heart. "This—"

Transferred to his own heart, beating on a calmer pace.

"—and this, is life, Atemu. What keeps us living, what we live for," Seth continued. "This. The rhythm of our hearts beating together. This is what we cherish. What I cherish the most. I understand that you need to protect Egypt. I do."

No…

As if in a trance, High Priest approached the guards.

"Is he never going to allow me to see him?" He asked.

The guards shuffled at their feet, refusing to answer. It was bad enough to witness this. It was worse to actually make things more complicated.

"He did not leave word, my lord," one of them finally answered sorrowfully.

"I see."

Seth went to the garden, certain he was not going to get any sleep. He sighed and closed his eyes.

What have I done?