Work Text:
“Zack?”
“Hm?”
He turns from the grass he was shredding absentmindedly under his fingers, ripping them to pieces as violently as he did with the creep that had been eyeing the house up until last week. Zack blinks as a strange looking bundle of flora is shoved into his face, and squints when upon further inspection the colorful plants seem to be twisted and tied together by their stems. Ray looks up expectedly, a strange glimmer in her blue eyes as she holds up her personal pet project.
Unfortunately for the both of them, Zack is a dumbass and he can't read minds.
“...Why the fuck is it all tangled together?”
The expression on her face doesn’t change, but Zack lived with her long enough to get a rough sense of her emotions, so he didn't miss the small annoyed sigh that escaped from her. “It’s a flower crown.”
Zack’s mismatched eyes turn back to the catastrophe of a wreath, taking in the way the shape could very well help fit it on someone’s head like a hat.
“I saw other kids making them at the playground,” she offers to his befuddled silence. “Since we have to cut back on yarn, I thought doing this would be a better replacement.”
Zack lets out a snort at this assumption. “It looks like I could tear it apart easily,” he declares, gesturing to the fragility by tapping on one of the amalgamated stems. “What would even be the point?”
To this, Ray gives a thoughtful hum. “I guess...because it’s fun?”
The teen could think of at least ten things that were more fun than stringing flowers together, easily. Before he even has the chance to voice one of them, she leans forward and places the giant tangle of flowers on his head.
“There,” she says. The bewilderment must have shown on his face, because her stare softens as a small smile forms on her lips. “Now you’re the flower prince.”
It was this statement that reminded him of how much of a child she still was, how despite her acting smarter and more mature than him most of the time, there was a small part of her that was still innocent. One who knew what sanctimonious meant-and even knew how to spell it-but remained oblivious to the murderous glares that Zack gave to the shady people in nearby alleys who just stare a little too long at Ray or Gramps, no doubt sizing them up for easy targets. She still had no idea about his nightly habits in alleyways, but with how her eyes squinted suspiciously and her nose wrinkled at the scent of fresh blood he hid under his hoodie, Ray was catching on, little by little.
Refusing to allow his discontent to show at the idea of Ray figuring out his tendency of getting into fights with grown-ass adults, he lets out a lopsided grin and waves his arms in a gesture to the flower field around them. “If I’m a flower prince, does that mean this is all my turf?”
“Mmhmm. Your domain extends within the range of this flower bed.”
Like usual, he was stupefied by her enormous vocabulary, more adept at a mere six years of age compared to his expertise at thirteen. Probably from all the books she read, he wouldn’t even be surprised if she regularly scans through a dictionary. His smile falls into a pout. “That isn’t very big,” he complains, waving his hands around more wildly. “How the fuck am I s’posed to call the shots over this four-meter flower dump?”
Ray’s expression doesn’t change. “Every kingdom has to start small. And it’s five meters, not four.”
Zack crosses his arms and gives her a long hard stare, unappreciative of her correction. “And flower prince? Shouldn’t I be the flower king?!” He was trying very hard to look somewhat serious and intimidating, but seeing how hard she was struggling to keep her lips from cracking out into a smile, it was all for naught.
“In order to become ruler of your domain, you have to go on a quest to prove your worth to the people.”
“Shit, there’s too many rules for this crap!”
“I’ll be the flower advisor. So I’ll assist you.”
“Don’t you mean flower princess?”
“Princesses can help with the affairs of the kingdom, but since you’re first in line for the throne, I’d probably be sold off for an arranged marriage to another kingdom to so-li-di-fy an alliance,” Ray explains, carefully sounding out the complex word. “I don’t want to get sent away, so I’ll be an advisor so I can stay by your side.”
Zack didn’t understand why the fuck he was first in line to the throne, if anything Ray would do a better job at running their imaginary kingdom. Nor did he understand the complexities of arranged marriages or the importances of alliances. Yet the mere mention of his little sister being stolen away was enough to make his skin crawl.
“If anyone tries to take you away, I’ll kill them,” Zack promises, his eyes narrowing in anger at the mere mention of this unforeseen circumstance and his voice let out a snarl. “I swear to God, hell will freeze over before I let anyone do that to you.”
Ray reaches out and takes his hand into hers, her fingers rubbing soothing circles around the back of his bandage hand. Zack’s enraged heart slows, as he forgets his ire and looks down to marvel at how small her hand was against his. A small, warm smile was on her lips, one that often drove away the chill that clung in his chest.
“Thank you, Zack,” she squeezes his hand as her voice dips into a more grave tone. “But, please don’t do that. It’ll be bad for our kingdom if you start a war.”
Zack snorts, dismissing her worries. “It’s no big deal. We’d fucking win.”
“Wars cost a lot of money, and we are still a small kingdom.”
Instead of answering that (because Zack knew all too well of their economic status in reality), he turns to study the crown of Ray’s blonde head, before reaching up to his own and removing the blossoms. Her eyes widen into big moons when he places it on her own head, quickly reaching up and grabbing his wrists to stop him. “This is your crown.”
He clicks his tongue in annoyance. “It’s itchy! Besides, it’s more your thing, ain’t it?”
“This is your crown,” she insists, cheeks puffing out into a pout. This was the most expressive he’d seen her in a while. Ray forces the crown back into his hands, the determined look in her eyes making it clear that there will be no changing her mind even if Zack made the effort to throw a tantrum. “I made it just for you.”
“Then…” Zack lowers the crown slowly into his lap, eyes flickering to the side to take a look at a bundle of some particular yellow flowers. He reaches out, snapping a few from their stems before holding them up to her view. “Let me make you one. You’re s’posed to help me run this joint after all, only fair that you get one.”
Ray blinks. For a minute Zack wondered if he said something dumb again, that maybe she had a very specific aversion to flowers being placed her head and possibly tangling up her hair, until very slowly his sister opens her mouth.
“Do you know how to make one?”
Zack shrugs. “Can’t be too hard. A brat like you was able to do it, after all.”
She shuffles from where she knelt down on the grass, the plants rustling as she inches closer to him and gently takes one of his rough hands into her own. “Just in case, let me show you how to do it,” she says, reaching out to grab a couple more of the yellow blossoms. “It’s a little tricky, and you have to be really careful. It’s easy for them to get torn.”
“Jeez, don’t worry so much,” he grumbles, but obeys anyway, allowing her hands to adjust his fingers so he was holding it more delicately.
To his side, Ray smiles. She doesn't mention that the flowers he was using to make her crown were actually weeds.
Near the edge of the field, not far from where the two siblings were playing, an old man who’d seen more horrors than he’d like in his lifetime rests on an old bench that was overgrown with vegetation. Their grandfather leans against his walking cane, a small smile hidden behind his greying mustache as he indiscreetly eavesdropped on their conversation.
“Hey, just so you know, you better not order me around!”
“I’m an advisor, all I can do is advise you. What you decide to do is up to you.”
“It better be!”