Be Careful What You Wish For
Summary: When the Pharaoh first met Mana, she said "Hold on! You haven't been walking around in the desert without wearing a hat again now have you?" So what happened the first time the prince got sunstroke so bad he didn't seem to know who he was?
Disclaimer: Property of Kazuki Takahashi and affiliated (see A/N's at the bottom).
Mana could hear them.
They were right across from her: three of her older classmates, Nafretiri, Odjit and Mataia. They were all sniggering and whispering behind their finely hennaed nails, but Mana knew by now which one was the real enemy - Nafretiri. She was the most beautiful of the three, of probably the whole class, but also the most venomous: Mana thought that beyond her usual schoolgirl nastiness was something worse: maybe not so bad as to one day face her friend's father and his priests with their Millennium Trial, and have a nasty monster pulled out of her soul, but still worse. Even though they, like her and the rest of the harem children in her class at the Kap, the royal school, were sat cross-legged like scribes with their papyrus across their laps, they had taken advantage of Tutor Abasi stepping outside to deal with another matter to stop working and giggle to each other - and Mana was starting to get a sinking feeling, from their glances, that they were talking about her.
She wondered what it was that she had done to annoy them. Really, she would normally have tried to ignore them, but she was already feeling irritable after spending most of her night on a new spell that just didn't seem to want to work for her. She had stayed up late, reading the script in her spellbook and casting, until the tiredness seeped into her very bones and her eyes were red from straining to see in the flickering flames of the brazier in her room, the only light she allowed herself for fear of alerting her body servant. It wouldn't have even been so bad had Mahaad not been busy with his more advanced spell classes and Atem away on yet another extra lesson to prepare him for becoming Pharaoh - his first real foray into the deserts of the Red Lands, on a chariot patrol against Libyan raiders and Sand Wanderers. She'd been missing him: she and the Prince had known each other since they were very small and they often practiced magic together, and the party had been gone since the night before, camping out in the desert to keep watch and teach the Prince, the Falcon in the Nest, something of battle. Without the distraction of her friends to talk to the girls' quiet onslaught was really starting to make her feel uncomfortable, to the point where she could feel her face growing hot and the whispering seemed like it was the only thing reaching her brain anymore, so that even when she tried to focus on Bakenmut staring blankly into space, her own hieroglyphs or Baki son of Nkhruma and Sebak son of Petiri's hurried dice game as they too passed the time in ways other than work, all she could hear were their spiteful tones.
"You know she's always with him…what does she do?….thinks she's…"
Oh. So that was it. Mana felt her face grow hotter, leaning over her work more to let her brown bangs cover her reddening face, though her eyes now gazed unseeingly at the papyrus. The girls must be jealous of her being friends with two guys. Really, she should have connected the pieces sooner: those lot had always been more interested in their looks than their studies, especially Nafretiri: the smell of her kyphi perfume almost drowned out the scent of the incense they were blessed with in the temple before they moved to their classes, and she seemed to wear more make-up with every day that passed.
She managed to avoid them until the end of class: she never thought that she would ever be so grateful for Tutor Abasi sweeping back into class, scolding Baki and Sekab upon catching sight of their knucklebones, and continuing the lesson: it was far easier to focus on her translation of Hurrian script to hieroglyphs when her concentration didn't have to contend with the whispers. However, at the end of class, when Abasi had swept away to the palace on other business, leaving the remaining straggling students to pack away their writing kits, they struck.
Mana saw them stand up across from her, Nafretiri's long legs unfolding in a grace Mana could only hope she had ever shown, and noted with a cold sweep of dread that instead of walking to her right to leave they were coming towards her, in the lead of course, until all Mana could see between her bangs were shapely tanned legs and the sparkle of anklets and hennaed toenails as they stopped in front of her.
"So what's little Mana going to do after class now that the Prince is absent?" Nafretiri sneered: glancing up, Mana could catch a glimpse of her even, sharp teeth as she curled her lip. Her eyes, ringed by expertly applied kohl, gazed down at Mana as if she were something far below the older girl's notice, arching a perfectly plucked eyebrow. Mana even noticed the shimmer of crushed pearl across her shoulders and breasts as she shifted arrogantly under Mana's gaze. Through her silent shock that they were talking about the Prince, one of Nafretiri's lackeys got a word in:
"Practicing her little magic tricks?" sniggered Mataia, all but looking to Nafretiri for approval for the jab while Odjit stood next to her, egging her on with her spiteful brown eyes.
"Probably. Although maybe she won't, if she's planning to make her living in….other ways."
"What do you mean?" snapped Mana, her strong spirit winning the battle over the dread in her gut for now. She noticed that the remaining students were stopping to watch the brewing battle.
"Seeing as you're so close to the Prince," Nafretiri said, moving in for the kill, "maybe it is your skills for under the kilt that impress him so? I certainly can't think of anything else."
Mana almost felt the shocked gasp that ran through the room, though she barely heard it over her suddenly hammering heart, though she scrambled to her feet and met the taller girls' sneer with a furious glare of her own, "Don't talk rubbish! At least I can perform those 'little magic tricks'!"
Nafretiri glared, her friends drawing in around her while Odjit, angered, retorted: "Even if you can, we all know that's the only reason the rest of us tolerate you without the Prince here!"
Mana reeled: glancing around, the shocked, uncomfortable gazes of her remaining classmates met hers, though none moved to help her. Covering her mouth with a hand, feeling tears spring to her eyes from the rush of unpleasant emotions, Mana turned and fled. As she did so, she didn't notice Bakenmut, Sebak and Amunet's movements or glares towards the three girls, who were of course led by Nafretiri, now flipping a sheet of her long black hair over one shoulder and staring triumphantly after Mana's retreating form, her eyes beautiful but full of malice.
**********
Mana was squashed next to one of the palace's ornamental pools under the shade of a tree in the manicured gardens. While usually it was one of her favourite calm places to practice her spells, now she used the solace for another purpose, and her mood couldn't have been more different from the norm: hunched up, arms around her knees and wiping ineffectively at the tears that streaked her cheeks. On her way here, she had literally run into Mahaad, almost knocking the older and much taller magician over. All she could understand through her racing thoughts were that he's come to give her a new spell scroll to practice, but when he'd recovered from the shock and noticed the tears in her eyes he had stopped and tried to console her, telling her that the girls were talking rubbish, trying to talk to her, but Mana, still overcome with emotion, had done little more than seize the papyrus and ran, choking out rushed apologies over her shoulder as she fled.
Almost the entire day had now passed: Mana, though it made a nagging part of her uncomfortable, had avoided the time of the prince's expected return and Mahaad as much as she could, shutting herself in her room or else coming to this lonely spot to hunch up and think, absently causing sparks to fly from her magician's staff.
Thoughts were swirling in her head: fueled by the pent up anger and depression brought on by her frustration, tiredness and upset over her classmates' words. The incident made her think back over the months, reminding her of similar taunts, the look in the adult's eyes whenever she enquired after her friend, hushed conversations. Since the prince had started his classes with the other older children on the court, becoming closer friends with Karim and Seto and Isis and Shada and the other noblemen's children! And how often, she thought angrily, swiping an arm furiously over her damp face, had the Prince been in class recently? He was always off on some little adventure of training nowadays, she really missed his company after spending most of her life seeing him nearly all day, every day. And again today, leaving her to deal with those girls alone! Was that the way it would be from now on? Is that what it would be like, growing up friends with a prince, the heir apparent? Sometimes, deep down inside her, where her negative emotions ran rampant, carried by her sudden temper, it made her wish she wasn't friends with the him at all!
Suddenly, she was startled by the sound of voices calling her name. One of them sounded like Mahaad. She thought to ignore them, as she had ignored all of the other summons that day, but something about the shouter's urgent tone and words gave her pause, and she stood abruptly, calling and waving to alert the searchers. She caught sight of Mahaad turning, shoulder-length brown hair sweeping his shoulders, and heard him call as he strode towards her.
"There you are! Mana, you have to come - "
"Yes, I know, I shouldn't have skipped my magic class. I'm-"
But he cut her off, the ghost of panic on his normally serene face freezing her, and she felt the weight of his next words in her chest as surely as if he had fired them on an arrow: "No, Mana, you have to come, I've just heard from the scouts from the expedition. It's the Prince. He's been taken ill."
**********
Mana thought that she would always remember that dash through the palace courtyards and pillared hallways: running until her legs burned and she could barely hear the slap of her sandals on the tiled floors over her own laboured breathing and the rush of blood in her ears, the shocked faces of courtiers flashing past, until she, Mahaad and another of the guards who had been searching for her skidded to a stop in front of the entrance to the Prince's quarters.
Now that she had stopped and was beginning to catch her breath after the run, Mana was beginning to hear high-pitched panicked yells, deep-voiced murmurs and soothing words coming closer, until a group of people rounded the corner ahead of them, and Mana was struck with the scene: a couple of soldiers, still dusty from the march, the majestic figure of Pharaoh Aknumkhanon himself (through their shock Mana and the others fumbled to make obeisance) and, far worse, draped in the arms of General Anhuri, the babbling, sweating, gasping form of her childhood friend - Atem.
"Prince!" Mana called. She was shocked to realize that the panicked shrieks were coming from her normally ever-composed friend, and that he was thrashing his head and struggling so that General Anhuri had to tighten his arms around him and quicken his pace. At Mana's words Atem's head turned to look at her slightly, but his eyes seemed glazed, and he only kept on rambling his words of panicked nonsense.
"Sunstroke!" Anhuri spared her a word of explanation and a gentling of his normally stern expression as they passed, noting her and Mahaad's expressions.
Two more people joined the scene, bowing to the Pharaoh as well - Mana recognized the hooked nose and stern profile of the Royal Physician, Pariamaku, and Atem's nurse, Merit, a well-rounded, kindly woman who had looked after the Prince since he was a baby. Both followed as the group swept inside the Prince's chamber, doors closing behind them. Mana tried to follow until she was stopped by a guard.
"Let me through! He's my friend!"
"I'm sorry young lady, I can't let you pass. Please stay out here."
"No, you have to! I want to see him-!"
"I'm sorry my lady, I can't allow you-" the guard interrupted, raising his voice to speak over her, lifting his spear diagonally across his chest as a physical barrier to the room. Mana only lunged forward again, already starting to protest again.
"No."
The voice, and the accompanying hand on her shoulder from behind, stopped her. That hand turned her around to see Mahaad's solemn face, and he pulled her away from the doors, calling out some politeness to the guard, who relaxed slightly.
"But Mahaad-"
"No, listen to me." Mahaad finally pulled her to a stop when they had gone far enough down the corridor to be out of earshot, hands going to grip each of her shoulders. He leaned in, locking her green eyes with his own serious gaze, voice quieting to a stern whisper. "Mana, you must listen to them. If we make too much trouble now, do you think they'll be so happy to let us in there when we are allowed?"
His seriousness cut through Mana's growing panic like a knife through reeds, and Mana realized he was right. Better to obey, learn what they could and return later. But that didn't mean she was happy about it.
"Okay," she replied, letting the fight drain from her with a sigh, offering her friend a shaky smile, which was returned.
"Mahaad! Mana!"
Both turned to see who had hailed them, seeing Karim, General Anhuri's son, at the end of the group, being left outside after the doors to the Prince's quarters had been swung shut. She recognized the older boy's green eyes, far darker than her own, and the stocky build that was already showing signs of turning into the muscular, barrel-chested physique shared by his father.
"Karim!" Mana yelped at him, rushing up to him with a slightly more patient Mahaad, "what happened?"
His green eyes took them in. "I'm not really sure, don't know much, we got split up at one point when we were patrolling and when I came back he was in that state, apparently got stuck in the sun too long with little water while they were out in the desert, took them longer to find a good well and get back than they thought."
"But wasn't it all planned?" asked Mahaad, his own lilac eyes betraying his own concern.
"They were staking out a little raider hideout, I think I heard that they'd poisoned one of the wells."
"Prince…" Mana breathed, sad gaze on the closed door. The three could feel the weight of their worry as if it were as dense as the humid air that surrounded them.
In the end she allowed Mahaad to drag her away for the evening meal, though she couldn't enjoy the music and chatter as much as she normally would with the weight of her sick friend on her mind, and by the looks on Mahaad's, Karim's, Shada's, Isis's and even Seto's faces, glaring at their gilded bowls or staring blankly into space with a frown creasing their brows, neither could they.
**********
It wasn't until later that the six of them were granted access to the Prince's chambers. Seto had made his token grumbles and the others worried over pestering their superiors, but in the end their collective concern for their friend won out and they headed for the Prince's quarters shortly after the evening meal.
The guards were resistant but this time they were let through, and they hurried through the antechamber to get to the Prince's bedchamber, a large room gaily decorated with wall paintings of pharaohs and princes at war and the hunt, scenes of chariot racing and fowling in the marshes depicted in vibrant colours. But the sound of voices, panicked yelps punctuated by soft murmurs, lent the room a despondent air at odds with such bright visions. Beside the small occupant of the bed, there were two other people already in the room: Pariamaku, busy chanting some kind of healing charm to go with his remedies, and, seated in a chair pulled right up beside the bed so that the occupant could hover over the boy laying in it, was a rather dishevelled Merit.
"Prince!"
"My Prince!"
Mana's voice joined the others as the six children rushed to the bed: she saw Merit turn her head slightly to regard them, offering them a smile and a greeting.
"Ah! I wondered how long it would take you lot! His Highness has just left. It's okay, come closer. I think seeing some friendly faces might do him some good. Not for long, mind."
Mana caught Pariamaku flash the nurse an irritated glare over his shoulder, raising his voice to continue intoning his chant, placing a protective Horus Eye amulet over the Prince's thrashing head, settling it onto his small chest on top of the damp linen wrapped around him to keep him cool. Atem himself lay on his carved wooden bed, the feet carved into lion's paws. He was definitely calmer than he had when he'd first been carried into his room, but still not completely himself. His unusually coloured hair was damp, probably from a cool bath, but his dark skin was already glistening with new sweat, limbs restless and shifting.
"You girl-" snapped Pariamaku when he'd finished his spell, "-what are you all doing in here-!"
Mana let out her own sound of distress even as she heard the others go to protest and sensed Seto's fists clench by his sides.
"Oh, let them pass! It's only for a little while. They only want to see him."
"Fine! Just while I make him another draught," the doctor snapped back before retreating to his medical papyri and chest on a folding chair in the nearest corner of the room.
"Prince?" Mana tentatively enquired, voice for once a far cry from her usual bright buoyant tones, stepping closer to the delirious boy. Merit gave her a smile as she leant back slightly to let Mana see Atem more clearly. "Can you hear me?"
The Prince's gaze swung to meet hers.
"Hey! It's me!" She took a step closer, drawing nearer her childhood friend.
For a few moments, Atem's violet-eyed gaze remained locked on hers: then, with a sudden, almost violent thrash of his head, he tore it away, gaze resuming its darting around the room, wide eyes moving from side to side senselessly, resuming his panicked cries, tossing and turning, his movements and apparent panic shocking in its sudden violence. Merit immediately stood, leaning more over him to gather him into her arms, the boys uttering panicked questions Doctor Pariamaku hurrying forward once more. "His Highness needs treatment and rest!" the latter barked.
"It's okay, it's okay…" Merit soothed, stroking the Prince's hair back with a free hand. He seemed to fight her hold for a moment then relaxed, calming, eyes falling closed. "I'm sorry, he still needs to rest from the sun sickness. Miss Mana?"
Mana had reeled back into the others, as stunned as they were, tears welling up in her eyes: to have her oldest friend react like that to her, her big brother, the one who had always looked after her… she could feel the others' eyes on her (even Pariamaku spared her a glance over his shoulder before continuing to check the Prince over), but they suddenly seemed a great distance away. She could hear the blood pumping in her ears again, face flushing. It was like when she had run so fast to get here. And yet not like that at all. More like when the girls had teased her. Worse.
"Mana?" Mahaad enquired gently, reaching out a hand to her, but she back-pedalled, shaking her head. "I'm okay! Really!"
She saw him frown, and Isis reach for her with an understanding smile - her voice had been of a higher pitch than usual, more tremulous - before Merit added "Right, he needs a bit more rest and treatment. Probably best to come back later." Mana's eyes widened slightly at the firm tone, her feelings of guilt increasing. The older woman seemed to sense this, for her tone gentled, and she softly added: "It's okay, Miss Mana. See? He's better now, he's just a bit delirious from the sun, he needs a bit more rest.
"Of course! It's fine!" But as she and the others left, her companions sending her sidelong glances as they walked back down the palace halls, talking of when they would next visit, what they could bring for the Prince to cheer him up, Isis talking about healing charms, Mana could tell that they were wondering whether she was trying to convince them or herself that she was okay after all.
**********
The next day Mana spent largely in uncharacteristic sullen silence. She thought that she must have had almost a sleepless a night as Atem, though rather than tossing and turning she had lain awake, lying on her back, staring up at her ceiling. But while her body lay still and her eyes gazed sightlessly up at a crack in the plaster, her mind was teeming, upsetting and guilt-ridden thoughts crashing in her head, as tumultuous as a palm leaf rocked in the waves sent up by a crashing hippo in the Nile.
In class, when Abasi stepped out to collect more documents to translate from the scribes, Mana could hear Nafretiri and her cronies simpering over the Prince's condition while again throwing catty looks her way. Mana heard the barbs but didn't really register them, as though they were entering her body through her ears and flowing right back out of her as the ink flowed from her reed pen, her exhausted state and emotional weariness from her continual worry rendering her largely uncaring, writing by rote. It was only when she heard Nafretiri caustically conclude, voice lowering to the quietest whisper, "be a shame if he does pass to Osiris. He's my age, my best chance!"
This time, the gasp that ran round the room was in her favour, though Mana barely registered it, having leapt to her feet, fingers clenched around her staff before she even realized that she'd summoned it, the blood roaring in her ears from her rage. "Say that again! The Prince will survive! Not that it's got anything to do with you!""
The three girls across from her stared back with wide eyes, Nafretiri standing too, Odjit and Mataia slower to get to their feet on either side of her.
"What was that, little girl?" Nafretiri shot back.
"I heard you say you only care if he lives so you can marry him! You just want to be the Great Royal Wife!"
"Don't lie about me!" the older girl snapped, tossing her hair, though she paused and her cheeks coloured as she realized that her classmates had heard, their own shocked eyes staring back at her.
Mana could feel the rage coursing through her body: she had never felt so angry in her whole short life, hearing someone talk about her friend's life so casually, bringing all her worries to the surface, and she was beginning to think that she would like nothing more than to give it flight, to somehow send it down her staff in a spell to knock the look off of their uncaring faces…
"Shut it, Nafretiri." Mana's thoughts halted in shock at a voice to her left. She turned towards it, staff lowering slightly, to see Bakenmut.
"Yeah, we heard you!" added Sebak. "The Prince should get better anyway!" Mana saw Amunet and most of the others nodding. In the cacophony that then commenced she even heard "that's treason!" The tide was turning: she should have known that the others would be on the young Prince's side - no, her trios' - side, and with this thought her own rage began to dissipate.
It was quite a scene that Abasi barged back into, rapping his cane and bellowing until order had been restored. There were a few mutterings before the class quickly settled back into their work. The three girls were silent, now working, only pausing to shoot worried glances Mana's way: she realized with a sudden jolt of clarity that they were worried she'd tell Abasi, or even the Prince, the story, and they would get in trouble. But Mana, now much calmer, thought that there had been enough trouble: the Prince shouldn't have to come back to more of it. Just as long as they got the best reward of all: the girls leaving them in peace.
**********
Despite the feeling of release that had come with standing up to the harem girls, Mana remained in her kind of dazed limbo, thoughts full of her sick friend. But rather than it making her rush to see him at his sickbed more, it made her hesitate, desperate to know if he was okay but even more strongly worried about what would happen if he wasn't. It made her almost afraid to see him, and it was only after Mahaad, his tone gentler than usual, had confirmed the rumours slowly sweeping the palace - the Prince was doing a lot better. Mana remembered the bags under his eyes beneath his perfectly applied kohl and the weight of his hands on her bare shoulders as he spoke the words, saw the truth in his eyes.
She was struck with the scene: the reed mats had been lowered over the windows, leaving the room mostly in shade apart from bright golden shafts of light that arrowed into the room from the thin gap around them, flickering across the painted walls and floor tiles in the slight breeze. Directly across from her, seated in the same chair next to the bed so that the occupant could hover over it, was Merit, eyes drawn with exhaustion, strands of her dark hair falling over her face. And then, feeling as though her heart had just leapt into her throat, Mana caught a glimpse of the distinctive hairstyle of the Prince.
"Miss Mana. He's a lot better now. You can come in, sit," Merit's voice gently broke the silence. She smiled kindly at Mana, gesturing to a folding stool on the bed's other side, the corners of her weary eyes crinkling. "It's okay. He's sleeping."
The words felt to Mana as though they had partly released her from the stunned trance she had fallen into, welding her feet to the floor as surely as though someone had cast a Freeze Spell over her. She walked tentatively forward, registering that the nurse's words were true. The scene was indeed lot calmer than her last terrible visit. The prince lay still, largely on his back, arms on top of his covers, laying by his sides. His large eyes were closed in a deep sleep, forehead barely creasing as Merit wrung out a damp linen rag and lay it on his head, apparently soothed by the coolness.
"Doctor Pariamaku's just left. He's had a rough night but we've been keeping him cool, the healers says he's getting better." Merit spoke again, turning her head to regard the girl who perched tentatively on a folding chair on the bed's other side. Her tone gentled, and she softly added: "He's got the best treatment in Kemet, Mana."
Mana gave a jerky nod in response. "I know," she replied quietly. She pried her gaze away from the Prince's sleeping face to glance back up at the nurse when no reply was forthcoming. For a moment, Mana thought that Merit had glanced up and seen someone, giving the barest nod in accord to some silent agreement, but was cut off from asking by the nurse standing and saying "Right then. Well, now he's sleeping, I'm just going to grab some more juice, he'll be thirsty when he wakes. You stay with him, okay?" At Mana's assent she swiftly stood and left after checking the Prince one more time, squeezing Mana's shoulder as she swept past.
Mana didn't know how long she sat in that silent room. It could only have been a little while, but felt like days. She sat, eyes locked on the form of her sleeping oldest friend, comforting herself with the steady rise and fall of his chest, his soft breathing the only sound on the stone and tiles, trying not to think of the last time she had seen the prince's chest, shuddering as he heaved for air, his breathing as fluttering and panicked as a small bird trapped in a fowler's net. It was surprisingly easily: the quiet of the calm room and the release of dealing with her classmates, as well as her own weariness (she thought to herself that she must feel as least as tired as Merit had looked) left her simply sitting there and gazing, her thoughts less tumultuous waves than a gentle trickle, taking in even tiny details: the hardness of the wooden chair against the back of her knees, the angle of the prince's closed eyes, soft eyelashes black against his cheek, the glint of the floor tiles as the sunlight flickered across them.
"Here again now, Mana?"
The deep voice behind her brought Mana swiftly out of her musings. Turning, she saw the tall, majestic form of the Pharaoh himself, dressed in his usual finery, gold glinting in the sunlight. Though his eyes were almost the exact violet as his recovering son's, his striped headdress framed an austere face made up of the sharp planes and angles the prince had yet to grow into. Despite this, his eyes glowed with a quiet smile as he held her gaze and strode gracefully towards the bed, coming to a stop on the opposite side of it to the stunned girl.
"Sleeping," he murmured, voice a pleased rumble as he stood over his son, bending to brush knuckles softly against his cheek. The scene struck Mana as rather poignant in its contrasts: this quiet, stern figure, authority incarnate, eyes warm and movements gentle as he comforted his sick child as he slept. "That's good. He needs the rest." The Pharaoh allowed himself a quick smile before he straightened and lowered himself gracefully into the chair Merit had vacated. He lifted his gaze to hers again, quiet and authoritative.
Mana stared wide-eyed at him for a few stunned seconds before propriety snapped her out of her paralysis. She scrambled to her feet, words a panicked, jumbled flow, bending in a awkward bow, her view of him obscured through her bangs. "Y-your Highness! Life, health, prosperity! Can I, can I, umm, get you anything… umm…" Her friend's father or not, this man was the Living Horus, the Lord of the Two Lands, and here she had sat, gaping at him, not even offering him a chair or even proper obeisance. Mahaad was right, sometimes she forgot her place -
"Be seated, child." That deep voice stopped Mana yet again. Shocked, she straightened slightly to see the Pharaoh's face clearly again, but while his tone had been stern there was no malice, and his face was calm. "It is not the first time you and the other children have visited here in recent days, is it not, hmm?" Mana paused, but then the Pharaoh had always seemed to know more than he let on. Part of being the incarnation of a god on earth, she supposed. Bumbling an agreement, she nervously sat again on the edge of her seat, fingers clenched on the edges on either side of her legs. Her posture showed her tension as a coiled spring, winding tighter with tension as the silence between then lengthened and drew on. They sat in the quiet for a short while, Atem between them, the Pharaoh's gaze on his every little stir and mumble, until he lifted his head, apparently contented again, and looked back at her, breaking the silence again.
"Little Mana. I remember you, running around the courtyards with my son, for almost as many summers as he has been able to, hiding in those vases, getting up to mischief at times." Mana tensed further, fearing a reprimand, but the elder's expression was calm, and he soon continued. "You always seemed to be having fun. I think that was important. Yes, in his life, I think that it will be very good for my son to have that at times. So serious."
The words were kind, but rather than comfort Mana felt that they only unblocked the thoughts and emotions she had experienced over the recent days, and they welled to the surface once more. After a while of silence, she spoke.
"It was terrible, when I saw him before, the first time. It was like I wasn't there, like I didn't exist."
She saw the Pharaoh's lips move, about to question what she meant, but she ploughed on, squashing her thoughts on how improper it was to interrupt a Pharaoh, words hurried, speaking more to the bed than the man opposite her. It was good to let it all out, in a way, and she spoke a little of what had happened in the classroom, missing names of course, her own confused thoughts, her worry, finishing with what had happened when she had seen the prince for the first time when he returned. "He was so, well, odd. He was mumbling just nonsense, and he looked so, so, well, sick. Like he was trapped in a nightmare and couldn't wake up, even though there were all those people there, trying to talk to him and look after him."
The Pharaoh was silent, listening. He sensed that they were about to reach what had been worrying her the most.
"Then I saw him again, with the others, and he seemed so much better, and I got to try and talk to himself. And I thought everything was okay again, and he looked right at me, and I thought we could talk like always. But then he was sick again, and his gaze went right over me, like I wasn't there, like I didn't exist." Her voice was tiny now, upset and quiet. "Like he didn't know me."
"You understand that he was still recovering then?"
Mana glanced up at this reply, and tried to sniffle back some of her welling tears. "Yes, and I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to sound like it was his fault or anything, I know he was sick, it's just that I thought some really bad things, and it was almost like they were coming true, like I'd somehow cast a spell, and he really didn't know me at all." She finished on a near-sob, lowering her head again, cheeks heating in shame. She had just spilled out all of her problems to the King of Khemet, of all people, telling him about the silly harem girls and worse, even the problems of being friends with his son! And he would think she was just his son's silly little friend, who doubted her friends just because they were delirious with the heat of the sun… he could tell her not to see his son again, and there where would she be? She began to panic, miserable.
"And do you think a friendship like yours could be so easily broken by such things?"
Mana looked up with a soft gasp at the enquiry: the Pharaoh was regarding her with a knowing look in his own violet eyes. "Well, do you? The friendship I have seen between you, Mahaad and my son? I should hope not."
And Mana thought hard. And things started to get clearer.
"What made you talk back to those girls? Was it because they were annoying you?"
"No," Mana replied slowly. "It was because it was like they wouldn't really care if he died." Mana was more sure now. The pain she had felt in her own chest at the mere thought had been far different.
"Your real question was, I believe, is it worth the trouble to be friends with them? Well, it would seem that you have your answer, do you not? Think, now."
And Mana thought of her friends, her oldest friends, picturing them in her mind. Mahaad, face serious, long hair framing his face, but the smile he would give her when she performed a spell well, the joy it sometimes felt that only they could understand. The time he spent with her. The Prince, a few years ago, her first real friend, face the kindest she had really seen in the palace, smiling at her, taller and stronger but only using that strength to help, reaching for a plum for her, both of her boys finding time in their busy lives to spend time to her, just to hang out by the fountains, share jokes, talk about their day, show off new skills learnt, her showiest spells. And it seemed like she did know her answer, after all. And it was definite. For forever.
"And as for those harem girls. I can't speak for the future, but…" Mana glanced up at his voice to see the Pharaoh giving her one of his rare smiles again, united in apparent understanding, "…despite my own efforts, if a girl ever entrances that boy more than those games of his…"
And Mana smiled.
**********
"Like Sekhmet the Destroyer?"
"Hmm, maybe! Or Montu! Yeah, like Montu! Brave like Montu, fearless in battle!"
Mana could hear the voices as she crossed the chamber, before she knocked and was allowed entry into the Prince's bedroom: the Pharaoh himself, whose voice she had heard more of spoken directly to her in recent times than she thought she had ever heard in one day in her life before, and, even better, the Prince's.
Like the last time she had visited, the Lord of the Two Lands was seated in a chair closest to his son's bed. But unlike before, Atem was sitting up, cross-legged, back against the headrest, linen blankets pooled over his legs. He had been talking animatedly to his father, enjoying the rare time with him, and Mana was pleased to note the healthy colour had returned to his cheeks. Their friends surrounded his bed, seated on chairs and stools or else cross-legged like scribes on the floor, snickering or grinning along with the Pharaoh and Prince's conversation.
"Alright, my boy. Next time we will be careful, and we will ride against our enemies like Montu, the God of War. Now, I will leave you to your friends. Just make sure you rest." The Pharaoh clapped his son's shoulder, and his eyes travelled around the boys and girls grouped around him, meeting Mana's gaze last as he acknowledged their obeisance. Mana thought she saw him give her a tiny smile as he swept from the room.
Mana, as she walked forward to sit with the others, noticed that Atem's gaze followed his father as he left the room, and he looked happy and relaxed: Mana realized with a bolt of insight that worrying over his father's and friend's reaction to the result of his first real foray into the world of battle would have been weighing heavily on Atem's mind, and that he was now very happy to have the assurance that they all understood and thought no less of him - heatstroke was nasty but not particularly rare in such special circumstances in Kemet, and the Prince had recovered well. A small part of Mana considered that understanding something like this might be part of that true friendship thing the Pharaoh had been talking about, but she couldn't dwell on it for long. She met Mahaad's eyes and they shared a smile of understanding as she headed towards her seat in the chair the Pharaoh had just vacated. The Prince turned towards her, eyes and smile warm as he greeted her, and Mana felt a part of herself that she hadn't realized was so nervous relax. The friends were soon all talking, catching Atem up on the goings-on he had missed in the palace, skating over how much they had worried over the past days, though they showed their care in small ways, such as making sure that he drank enough, and stayed sat in bed no matter how spirited their joking got, and, eventually, knowing when to say their goodbyes and leave when he couldn't hide his weariness.
Mana hung back to be the last to leave, blurting out the words before she left Atem's bedside, hand on his arm. "I really was worried, you know."
"Mana," he started, smiling sideways at her. Then he caught sight of her face and straightened, reaching out a hand. "Oh, Mana. I'm sorry. I'm okay now, see?"
She only stared at him for a long moment. Atem had just enough time to realize that her eyes were the most serious he'd ever seen them before he was grabbed in a tight hug.
Mana could feel him tense slightly, her ever-serious friend, but before he could say anything she murmured "Good." And he was going to be okay, it was all going to get better now, at least as far as this drama was concerned. She grinned at him, not the Prince of Khemet, but her closest, game-loving, short, slightly geeky, posh-voiced but still awesome friend. She turned and walked to the door, where Mahaad and the others were waiting. "See you in class! Remember, Abasi and translations to catch up on!"
Atem groaned and buried his spiky head in his covers again, to the laughter of his friends, and although Mana couldn't have known it, they were all thinking the same thing: that whatever they came up against in the future, they'd handle it. Together.
End.
Author's notes: Ah, nothing like a bit of friendship for Yu-Gi-Oh! Haha. On a more serious note:
Names from my own reading due to my huge interest in ancient Egypt and internet sources: meanings of include "stern" for Abasi and "wicked" for Odjit, while Nafretiri translates roughly to "beautiful creation."
Pariamaku the doctor and Merit the nurse (like a body servant) are very much influenced by the characters of those names in Christian Jacq's Rameses series and Michelle Moran's Nefertiti and The Heretic Queen books respectively. I highly recommend both of these authors and their books for fellow fans of ancient Egyptian fiction.
The girls' rather rude "under the kilt" comments to Mana at the start: this may seem quite shocking given Mana's young age in this, but given the court intrigue there would probably have been for Atem as heir apparent if the characters were real, and the fact that many ancient Egyptian girls got married and had children at around the age of thirteen…Even so, the girls were older than Mana and were just being rude to try and be shocking, so I didn't mean insinuate anything or offend anyone.
The medicine used to treat the Prince: I tried to hint that the ancient Egyptian physicians would used both magic such as sacred amulets and practical measures when treating a patient. Apart from that, I took a lot of license as to the actual treatment mentioned, as I couldn't find any specific sources and based the wet cloths etc on modern treatments, so I apologise for any inaccuracies, and welcome any feedback on this from any fellow ancient Egypt enthusiasts.