Disclaimer: Magically not mine.

A/N: Written for silsmile, who requested Mana and Atem (though not romantically) and 'childhood'.

The Dreams of Our Early Days

© Scribbler, July 2011.

"When I was a child, ladies and gentleman, I was a dreamer." – Elvis Presley.

"Mana …"

"Don't sound so worried, Atem."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Of course I am."

"But you only learned this spell yesterday."

"So?"

"Shouldn't you practise it first?"

"This is practise."

"On someone else?"

"Look, someday I'm going to have to defend you against wrongdoers and bad spirits and monsters and … um … other bad stuff like that. I gotta make sure I can do magic when it counts, so there's no point in me practising on someone else. You're the one who matters, right?"

Atem couldn't fault Mana's logic, though he desperately wanted to. Her jutting lower lip made him sigh.

She beamed. "Hold out your hands."

He held them out grudgingly.

"Palm upward," she said, as if he should have known.

Atem complied again. "Just be quick, before anyone notices we're out of sight."

"Shush. I need to concentrate." Mana concentrated so hard, in fact, her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth. She placed her palms to hover over his, facing downward. Their skin barely brushed, but tingled where it did.

Slowly, a soft golden glow surrounded Mana's fingers. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead. One ran into the crease of her nose. It dripped off the tip, but she barely noticed. Her eyes, too, were lit with the soft golden light. Atem watched in bemusement and wonder as it spread from her to him, like molten gold dripping off her. It spread and enveloped his arms up his shoulders, but it didn't hurt. It was just travelling along the line of his neck when a voice spiked through the air.

"Majesty!"

"The prince is missing!"

"Quick, men! To arms!"

The glow dimmed and vanished.

"Oh no," Mana whined. Exhausted, her palms sank onto Atem's.

She wasn't meant to touch him. He was holy; untouchable. He didn't mind, but he knew she'd get into trouble over it. Her hands were sweaty and trembling. He caught her as her knees buckled.

"I almost had it. You saw, didn't you? I almost had it!"

Atem grunted and laid her on the floor just in time.

"Sire?" A head popped over the decorative leaves artfully arranged in this part of the grounds. They provided shade and just enough cover for two children to crouch behind, but not enough to cover the glow of magic shining through, Atem realised. He and Mana must have been perfectly silhouetted by her spell.

The guard blinked at them. He looked around, obviously searching for some marauding spirit or kidnapper. "Are … you all right, my prince?" he asked doubtfully.

Atem frowned, which made the mad straighten and grip his spear tighter. "As you can see, I'm perfectly fine." He glanced at Mana. "Except that my companion seems to have a touch of sun-sickness."

"Shall I call the royal healers, sire?"

If the healers got hold of her, they would almost certainly discover she had used up her magical reserves, which would lead to all sorts of uncomfortable questions and problems for Mana. As crown prince, Atem could not be reprimanded by anyone below his station. The same could not be said for his friends. Mana was a magician's apprentice, but even that wasn't enough to keep her far above the line of who was and wasn't allowed to remain in the palace. Atem liked her. She was different than all the other companions he had been provided with over the course of his life. The previous children had been too scared to play with him, or had just nodded and let him win all their games, which got boring quickly. There was no challenge in winning by default or because others let you. Mana wasn't like that. She went her own way, rarely thought of consequences and made life interesting. She was fun.

"No, I think a short nap in her quarters will be enough," Atem told the guard.

The guard bowed. "Very good, sire." He came around the leaves to pick Mana up and take her away.

Before he arrived, Atem hissed, "Mana, what was that spell, anyhow?" His skin still prickled where it had touched. He needed to know if he was about to erupt in boils or itch himself raw, so he could ask Mahaad to fix it before anyone noticed.

Mana blinked sleepily at him. She yawned. "Silly. S'for pr'tection … nachurallee …"

Atem watched as she was taken away. She nuzzled into the guard's arms like a child being taken home by her father after a long day. Something in Atem twinged at the sight. Mana's parents had sold her to the palace when her magic first showed itself. All magical children were, by law, property of the crown. Only two had appeared this generation – herself and Mahaad – but both had been snatched from their families the moment they were found to be different.

Atem's fists clenched by his sides. Mana was destined to become his bodyguard someday, and probably one of his lesser wives. As a commoner, she wouldn't be his Great Wife, but she would still be bound to him. She would be expected to give her life to save his if it came to it. She was his friend. Something inside Atem rebelled at the idea that she was less than him, even as the rest of him argued that this was normal and he shouldn't question it. He would be king someday: a living god. It was only right and natural that he was more than everyone else. Where would Egypt be without its strict social order? It was the greatest nation in the world because it its people knew their places.

Still, Atem swore that, if it came to it, he would also protect his friends if they should ever be in danger. He was a god-in-waiting, but any god was only as powerful as those who followed him. Gods couldn't exist without lower beings.

"Lower," he murmured. "But not lesser."

Fin.

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