Work Text:
“Non! Non non absolument pas! My aviator friend looked nothing like this! This is not his uniform, and he was certainly not purple! Please, get back in your stupid purple rocket and leave me alone! I must mourn my dear, sweet rose.”
Harold watched the prince’s curls bob as he stomped about his planet indignantly. The prince said his friend flew an airplane and wore a uniform, and Harold thought he had drawn a perfectly good jet pilot. He had worked really hard to get the lapels right and everything. Maybe the nose was a bit round and cartoonish, but Harold WAS only four years old.
And what was wrong with the color purple, anyway?
Harold rubbed his chin as he watched the prince quietly weep over the withered rose. He had to improve this scene.
“If you like,” he started, hesitantly. “I could draw you a new flower to keep you company.” Harold couldn’t imagine how lonely it must be for one little boy on his own tiny planet, with no way to create his own amusement. It was no wonder the rose was such a loss.
Roses were beyond his meager abilities, so he started out making a daisy. A very simple, straightforward daisy. The prince regarded it with an air of resentment, so Harold decided to add some more petals. And more. And more still. Now it looked more like one of the zinnias in his mother’s garden. Striking and flamboyant. It would suit the little prince perfectly.
“It’s a drawing, so I don’t think it’ll need much in the way of watering, but I can draw you a watering can if you like. And I don’t think it’ll ever talk back, but…there’s no thorns.”
The prince gave the flower another glance. He did like the petals, and having a new friend to care for would be quite nice. He was a bit disappointed that it would never talk back, but he remembered the way his rose would weep and rant at the smallest perceived slight.
And no thorns.
No thorns.
The prince crossed his arms, giving Harold’s work an official assessment. “Yes. This flower will do fine. If you will draw me a watering can and perhaps a net to gather caterpillars, that will be just fine. Merci beaucoup.”
Harold smiled. “That’s good to hear. I have to get going now, or else I’ll miss lunch. You’re welcome to come too if you like.”
The prince shrugged off his invitation. He had his fill of travel for the moment, and it was time to befriend his new flower. “However, you are welcome to return for a visit whenever you wish, monsieur Harold. Perhaps bring another crayon next time?”
Harold nodded as he settled into his rocket. He was already planning a garden for his new friend.