Daisy Crowns and Lovegrass Rings
By Crystal Snowflakes
The wind blows across the meadow, sending the grass dancing as small, colourful flowers sway in the breeze. A chill seeps into his bones, but Cloud forces himself to focus on the warmth of the early morning sun and how peaceful it feels, being surrounded by nature. It almost makes him feel like a child again, and he closes his eyes and savours the moment.
Better that he not focus on the nightmare that's kept him awake the past few weeks—of glowing trees, of black feathers, and the distinct sound of a marble bouncing off a stone floor.
Still, unease sits heavy in his stomach, weighing him down every time his mind drifts back towards dreams that feel more like memories and actual visions. He can't shake the feeling that he should know what it means, and there's no denying the dread that settles deep in his soul when—
"You okay?" Aerith's voice cuts through the silence, startling him out of his thoughts with an ease only she could muster. Her smile is easy and gentle as she approaches to stand next to him, her hands clasped behind her back, looking like she belongs among the field of wildflowers surrounding them.
Cloud looks away to hide his face as the sudden onslaught of emotions crashes over him unexpectedly. He's sure it's in vain though; she has the tendency to see right through him anyway.
"Fine," he lies quickly, "just…thinking about something."
She doesn't look convinced. Instead, she takes another step closer and reaches out to touch his arm, giving him a little squeeze of reassurance before crouching down to examine the flowers at their feet.
"How long have you been out here?" she asks, her fingers tracing the delicate curves of the flower petals. "I've been awake for a bit, but I didn't hear you come out of your tent." There's a knowing smile on her face, and it really shouldn't be a surprise to him anymore that she notices everything.
Cloud shrugs, but he can't help but watch, enthralled by the way the light catches and refracts off the morning dew clinging to her hair, and he has to force himself to turn away. "A while."
"Hmm," she hums thoughtfully, but doesn't press the issue. Rising to her feet, she brushes the stray dirt off her dress before starting to stroll through the field of grass. Her movements are casual but deliberate, as if she knows where she wants to go.
After a moment's hesitation, Cloud trails after her, watching as her dark tresses swirl through the air with each step she takes. She looks so peaceful walking amongst the flowers that even the world around them seems to still for a second, and he feels the same familiar odd pang in his chest.
Ever since their date at Gold Saucer, things have been…different between them. Their tentative relationship—if the way her lips brushed against his after the gondola ride was any indication—has progressed into something deeper. They talk more now—usually at the end of a long day in hushed whispers by the campfire when everyone else has retreated back to their tents.
Or like now, in the early morning quiet, before anyone wakes up.
His lips curve up in a soft smile before he shakes his head to clear his thoughts.
They end up sitting together on a large boulder, side by side, just breathing, enjoying each other's company until Aerith breaks the silence.
"Whenever something bothers me, I feel better after talking with someone," she confides softly, turning her gaze to meet his. There's nothing accusatory in her tone, but there's a question there all the same. "Do you… want to talk about it?"
There's an invitation there too, in her eyes, and Cloud finds himself reluctant to reject it—unable to deny her anything.
"Had a nightmare," he admits after a pause. He doesn't elaborate, but with the way her gaze softens, it seems like she understands all the same.
Her hand reaches out to hold his own gently and squeezes it—just for a moment—before she reaches down next to her to pluck a couple of small, white flowers from the ground. It takes him a second to remember what they're called. Daisies, the name comes unbidden to his mind, and he wonders briefly if she'll smile if he ever tells her she's the only reason he knows the names of any flowers.
He watches—fascinated—as her hands twist the stems between her nimble fingers.
"Have you ever made something like this before?" she asks, glancing up at him with a grin. He knows she's trying to take his mind off whatever had woken him—trying to distract him—but none of it matters. The morning sunlight filters through the branches of the tree, casting gold rays onto her features. Her cheeks are a little rosy, her hair is slightly dishevelled, and suddenly, Cloud wants nothing more than to pretend that the rest of the world doesn't exist.
His fingers twitch, wanting to reach up to brush away the hair from her face, but he manages to fight off the urge.
"No." His voice sounds foreign to his own ears—a little hoarse—and he clears his throat. But he's lying. Because watching her—and it takes him longer than it should to realize she's making an intricate crown made of flowers—triggers an ancient memory buried deep within him that he didn't even know existed.
And then everything comes rushing back.
The memory makes him catch his breath, a wave of emotion crashing over him. Before he can stop himself, his hand pulls a few pieces of longer grass from the soil, and the words slip from his mouth.
"Actually… Mom taught me how to weave weeds into rings. Said dad proposed to her with one." He stares down at his fingers as he says it, focusing hard on what he's doing rather than Aerith's reaction. "It wasn't uncommon for townspeople in Nibelheim to propose or promise something with grass rings or flower crowns." A small chuckle escapes his lips as he tries to ignore the bittersweet taste of nostalgia coating his tongue.
"That's… really adorable," she replies softly.
A comfortable silence settles between them once more, a warm summer breeze gently sweeping through the meadow. She's humming under her breath, and while the song itself is unfamiliar to him, something about the melody draws him in like a moth to a flame.
It doesn't take him long to finish his creation. The ring isn't perfect—it's uneven and crooked around the middle and a little loose on the edge—but he's surprised his muscle memory is even able to make one. When he glances back up, he expects to see disappointment or shock, but instead, she smiles warmly at him and holds out the daisy crown for him.
"Here," she offers with another wide grin. "It's for you."
He blinks, confusion knitting his brows. "What?"
"C'mon," she urges again, a twinkle in her eye. Before he knows it, she's leaning towards him to set the crown down atop his head. It's light and soft against his hair, yet the warmth radiating off her skin leaves an imprint on his scalp.
Cloud swallows thickly, a rush of heat rising to his face at the simple action, and he's suddenly grateful there's no one else around but her.
"You look so handsome!" she squeals with delight, and he doesn't quite trust himself to speak right now. Not when he's still struggling to control his raging heartbeat. Her giggles are contagious, and soon enough, he lets out a nervous laugh of his own. The sound surprises him, but somehow, he can feel some of the tension seep out of his body.
Still laughing, she leans against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "You're not used to wearing flower crowns, are you?" she teases.
"Not really…" he murmurs, shaking his head, and he breathes in, enjoying the smell of her. She smells like sunshine and flowers, and it brings an overwhelming sense of peace that reminds him of home.
"I think it suits you," Aerith says quietly, and it sounds like she means it. But there's a short pause before she nudges him, and he looks down curiously in response. "Well," she continues, her expression softening as her gaze drifts back up towards the top of his head, "now that I've given you something, aren't you going to give me something in return?"
She's looking at him expectantly, and he's caught off guard by the look in her eyes. His heart skips a beat; the way the light catches in her hair and the green of her eyes, the way her pink lips curve upwards in a smile… he wonders if he'll ever get used to the feeling of her pressed up so closely to him.
"Uh… Here." He holds out his hand towards her without thinking, and her grin widens as she extends her fingers towards him. And suddenly, the tips of his ears burn red as the realization of what she's suggesting hits him like a ton of bricks.
Aerith laughs—a melodic sound that echoes across the clearing—and slowly, as though afraid he might break whatever spell has fallen over the both of them, he takes the ring from his palm and slides it carefully onto her finger.
His hands linger around hers for a few moments longer as the weight of what just happened sinks in, but he forces himself to breathe—to pull away—because after all, it's just a ring made of grass and it doesn't mean—
"So… is this a proposal or a promise?"
Cloud almost chokes. "W-what?"
"You said people would propose or make promises with flower crowns or grass rings," she points out, her gaze flitting to their joined hands, and he swears the butterflies in his stomach are about to escape. "So we're engaged now, right?"
Oh.
Oh.
It feels like a dream, and he tries not to think about how close she is, or how his throat suddenly feels too dry. "I…"
Her laughter echoes in the air, and it takes a moment for him to register it. There's no disappointment in her tone—nothing but joy and amusement and happiness—but he feels the strangest need to explain just how important she is to him anyway.
"I promise I'll protect you," Cloud blurts out, the words tumbling from his mouth. "Wherever you are."
Her gaze softens, and she's smiling up at him, but it's a little more subdued, a little less radiant. For a second, it's almost as if she's about to say something, but she bites her lip instead and says, "Thank you, Cloud."
There's something different behind her words—something so fragile in the depths of her eyes that he can't put his finger on—and it makes his chest tighten. And suddenly, he's desperate to make it better. To erase the sadness lingering in her gaze.
"So…" he starts hesitantly, searching desperately for the right thing to say. "Don't you owe me something, too? Since you gave me a crown."
Even as he says it, he's aware that it's going to backfire spectacularly on him—
"Cloud!" she protests with mock indignation. Only for a moment though. "Does that mean I can propose?"
"Aerith—" His voice cracks, mind reeling, and she'll be the death of him one day. That much he knows already.
"I'm teasing!" She's grinning cheekily, and it's contagious because he finds himself unable to hold back a smile himself. Without warning, she kisses him, and his heart nearly stops. But it lasts only for a second, leaving him to wonder briefly if he imagined it.
Wrapping her arms around his waist, she buries her face into her chest. "Let's stay together," she mumbles softly, and Cloud feels the tension in his muscle melt away as he pulls her closer against him. "For as long as we can."
And in that moment, he realizes that he never wants to let her go.
"Sounds like a promise."
"Mhm."
Author's Notes: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! I hope everyone has been doing well.
This fic was written for Ever Ours, A Clerith Wedding Fanzine, and it was such an honour to be able to participate as a guest writer and work with such a group of amazing people.
Completed: February 19, 2024