A/N: I'm working on this story slowly but steadily. I do most of my work on it at school, since I'm usually busy when I'm at home, so sometimes I don't get a whole lot done on it. I hope the last few chapters didn't chase anyone off! This story's gonna be a long one, despite how it may seem! Try to stick with it, if it's interesting to you!

And thank you very, very much to Eleanora-Griffindor who wrote me a very thoughtful review! I greatly appreciate it!

On with the story!

Chapter Three Fallen

The cries of shock and wails of despair preceded the soldier's return to the Palace. Children, despite their lack of understanding, were wailing and clinging to their mother's legs as their fathers stared in shock. Dogs howled where they were scattered around the edge of the road, responding to the maelstrom of emotions tearing the air around them. The streets were echoing with the grief of the people, so that even those whose minds were too far gone shed tears without knowing why. The soldiers rode their horses at a steady but respectful walk up the road, grief and sorrow shadowing their tear-tracked faces.

At the head of the procession they carried the young Pharaoh's body. He was held securely in the arms of one soldier, his head resting against the man's chest. They had wiped the blood from his face, leaving it clean and so peaceful he could have been dozing in a warm, afternoon nap. But that didn't hide the crimson staining the cloth he wore. His robes, which had always been a clean, pale color were marred by the red that was soaked down the front and back. His royal purple cloak was darkened with the dried blood where it was pinned between his body and the arms that carried him. It was a frightening change.

His normally bright, focused eyes were closed, his dark lashes resting still against his dusty cheeks. His lips were parted only slightly as if in breath, but there was no movement in his chest, no rise and fall of slow, sleepy inhaling and exhaling. His lean arms were still folded over his middle as if to try and cover the wound in his chest, and his feet moved a little from where his legs were hooked over one arm that carried him, each step the horse took making his body shift in a horrible mockery of dream-time motions.

Despite his apparent peace, it was clear to all who were watching that their young leader was gone, passed on to the realm of the Gods. And yet, the loud cries of despair were not for the Pharaoh alone; the second soldier that rode at the head of the procession carried the still form of Priest Mahad with him. And while the soldiers knew that the blood which drenched his side was simply from the sand he'd collapsed on beside the Pharaoh, that wasn't apparent to the mourning civilians. Mahad's eyes were also closed, his face pale and ashen, blood smeared across one cheek. He didn't stir or wake as he was carried to the Palace; not a flicker of an eyelid or a heavy sigh of sleep occurred to prove he still lived.

So, agonized wails rang through the streets, spreading the news that both Priest Mahad and the Great Pharaoh had fallen, were lost to them all. Men shouted the news, or ran to tell other families, leaving the women and wives to care for the sobbing young ones. Thunder rumbled grimly overhead as if the heaven's themselves were reacting to the tragedy, the dark clouds shadowing the streets, hiding even the sun's light from view. Many wondered if Ra himself had abandoned them in this hour of mourning.

By the time the soldiers reached the Palace, the other Priests were already gathered in the Main Hall, having heard the news ringing so painfully from the streets. They waited together, desperate for proof that the words had been false.

But the sight of their companion and leader had the opposite effect. Isis gasped in shock and horror, covering her mouth with her hands. Seto's eyes widened, stunned, his hands clenching under his folded arms. Shada gave a softly uttered "no!", dropping his Millennium Ankh to the floor in his shock. Karim gaped at the two, stunned speechless in disbelief. Shimon gave a broken cry and sank to his knees, tears running down his weathered cheeks. The soldiers frowned in sorrow, stopping before the Priests and bowing their heads.

"Priest Mahad still lives and is unharmed," one informed them softly. "But he hasn't woken since he found the Pharaoh…" He trailed off, his brow furrowing, looking away. Isis gave a muffled whimper of mingled relief and despair, but Seto growled softly under his breath. He uncrossed his arms and stalked forward, grabbing the front of Mahad's robes and pulling him off the horse. He shook the unconscious man, holding him up so he didn't fall to the floor.

"Wake up, Mahad!" he shouted, pain burning in his eyes. "Now!" Isis' eyes widened and she ran forward, putting a hand on Seto's arm.

"Seto, stop it! What are you doing!" But Seto shoved her aside without looking at her, ignoring her words, and shook Mahad again.

"Damn it, Mahad! Wake up!" The unconscious Priest groaned and let his eyes flutter open, regaining his footing as Seto's actions forced him back to reality. Then his eyes widened at the initial shock of the shaking on top of all the other emotions that came back to slam his mind all at once. Seto growled, his body rigid and trembling with shocked grief. "What happened out there! Why was the Pharaoh with you!" Mahad frowned, his gaze a little distant, and his body started to shiver a little. Real…it was real…not just a dream... A horrible, horrible dream…but no… He was silent for a long time as he let the fact that the Pharaoh really was dead sink into his mind.

"I did not know…" he finally murmured, his voice soft and pained. He moved his hands up slowly as if dazed, and pulled Seto's clenched hands off his robes. It didn't take much effort; Seto was trembling too badly to keep a proper hold. Mahad looked at the confusion and pain and sorrow in his eyes, then blinked slightly and looked around almost frantically. "Where is the Pharaoh?" The first soldier shifted on his horse, holding the bloody young man out slightly, his voice a little shaky.

"Here, Priest Mahad…" The priest turned to face him, looking at Atem. He walked forward quickly and gently took him from the man's arms. Without hesitating he looked over the bloody robes and the golden bangs that were swept across his dusty face. One arm was still draped over his middle while the other hung limply at his side. Mahad looked him over slowly and carefully, then let his gaze rest again on his sadly peaceful face. Again his body started shivering, his brow furrowed, then he dropped to his knees, holding his love against his chest.

Behind him, Seto yanked the Millennium Rod out of it's place at his hip and hurled it away form himself with a vulgar curse of frustrated, despairing anger at their failure. To protect Egypt, but to first protect the Pharaoh… I took that oath! We all did! He clenched his hands at his eyes, his eyes narrowed, his body still trembling. Damn it!

Isis wiped the tears off her cheeks, not caring that they were immediately replaced. She walked up behind Mahad, a wrenching pain in her heart, and rested a hand down on his shoulder, her voice quivering with restrained emotions.

"Mahad…" The kneeling Priest held Atem tighter, his body shaking with a grief that threatened to tear him apart, a singled tear rolling down his cheek.

"I…I went out to save him… my actions were to save him!" he clenched his fingers on Atem's bloody robes. "And I failed…" Isis frowned sadly and knelt down next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, having no other comfort to offer, knowing no words would mean anything to him now. Seto growled and crossed his arms, anger flaring in his heart as an instant self-defense to protect against his own helplessness.

"We all failed, Mahad, stop wallowing in self-pity!" Isis frowned over at him, putting a trembling finger to her lips to shush him, feeling Mahad still shaking. A healer approached them quietly, standing still near them, a silent reminder that the Pharaoh had to go through his funeral rites and mummification as soon as possible. Mahad looked up at him, then furrowed his brow and shook his head, not wanting to let Atem go.

"This cannot be real…" he whispered, his voice strained with the agony of his loss. He scanned the young man with his eyes again, then hid his face against his chest. "It cannot be…" Isis looked at Mahad again, rubbing his back with one hand, her gentle voice a little choked by the tears that hadn't managed to slip down her cheeks.

"Mahad… I am so sorry…" Mahad frowned sadly and looked over Atem again as if his gaze alone could bring his spirit back and make his body live again. He looked to Isis but said nothing; he had no more words for her. She nodded sadly in understanding and started to speak again, but he looked away again, back down at the boy in his arms. More than anything, he didn't want to go through the mummification process with him, but he knew he had to; as the highest Priest, it was his duty to start the Pharaoh's journey.

Isis bit her lip, seeing his reluctance, and spoke softly despite her understanding.

"He must be prepared as soon as possible, Mahad, or the Gods may not accept him at the end of his journey…" Mahad stayed silent for a long time. After a while, Isis began to wonder if he had heard her at all through his grief. She could see his agony with every breath he took, how his body shook and trembled as if with cold. He held Atem tightly against his chest, his head bowed, the shadow of loss clear in his eyes, but it was more than that. There were emotions there that had no name, feelings of pain so great it was a wonder he didn't break right there. She could tell that there had been a love and devotion in his heart for the young man he now held that no one could ever even fathom. Then he nodded just slightly and slowly got back to his feet, moving as if the entire weight of this tragedy was on his shoulders.

"I know…" He hugged Atem tightly against his chest. "I know…" He looked to the solemn healer, then walked over to him, frowning, the pain crashing down wave after wave over his heart. The healer rested a hand on Mahad's shoulder, sadness in his sympathetic gaze, and with a softly murmured prayer, he led Mahad away.

Behind them, Isis covered her mouth with her hands to stifle her cries as new tears streamed down her cheeks. Both Shada and Karim were dazed and stunned, disbelieving pain in their eyes as Shimon stayed mourning on his knees. But it was the ever-stoic Seto whose reaction startled the other Priests the most. He covered his face with one hand, hints of tears visible where his fingers didn't cover, his shoulders shaking despite his silence. He, too, was crying.

A/N: Musical Assistant: A piano version of Hallelujah by Rufus Wainwright.

Again, despite how this story may seem, it does continue for a while! Please try to stay with it if you havne't lost interest already!

Thank you very much, and please revivew!