could we get a crier’s war proposal fic? I honestly loved the way you wrote both of them in your last CW fic and we def need more of them ^^
Marry me?
A/N: Awh yay! I love to see a request for Crayla, I love them so much and really enjoy writing for them. Thanks so much for the request and kind words, anon <3
CW: None that I can think of!
---
Crier's hand shakes as she feels the small box in her dress pocket. She'd had the ring for months, had it made by a jeweler especially for Ayla. It's a band, as Crier assumed Ayla wouldn't want a ring with a stone that sticks out. She'd snag it on something, she'd break it while sparring, or she'd lose it. And besides, Crier figured that regardless of all of that, the band would fit Ayla's tastes more.
It's gold, complimenting Ayla's brown skin perfectly. Small rubies are lain within the band, wrapping around the entirety of it. On the inside of the band, Crier had the jeweler engrave 'A + C.' She wondered if that had been overkill, but she was cheesy, and she wanted this, this proposal, and hopefully, eventual wedding, to be as representative of their love as possible.
Crier jumps when the bedroom door opens, and she turns from her spot at her desk, near the window, to watch Ayla enter the room. She's glistening with sweat, her curly hair pulled into a bun. A few strands have fallen out, and are stuck to her forehead, her neck. Her cheeks are pink, and her pants are covered in mud stains. She's never looked more beautiful. Though, Crier realizes, she thinks that every time she looks at Ayla.
She smiles as she approaches Crier, one hand on her hip, the other fanning her face.
"Long day?" Crier asks, stomach fluttering at the sight of Ayla's easy grin.
She shrugs, and comes to stand right in front of her. "It was fun, hard work, but fun. So, not too bad," then she bends to plant a sweet kiss on Crier's mouth.
Crier kisses back, then playfully pushes her away with a hand on her chest. "You're all sweaty, Ayla," she whines, but she's smiling.
Ayla barks out a laugh, then in a flash, she's grabbing Crier, one hand scooping up her thigh and the other around her back. She lifts her, and Crier squeals in delight, playfully hitting Ayla's back and arms. Ayla laughs and laughs and laughs, rubbing her sweaty face into Crier's neck, peppering kisses wherever she can reach.
Finally, she sets her down, and they both have to catch their breath. Crier swats her arm, heaving between laughs, "I hate you! You're sick, Ayla!"
Ayla hums, rolling her eyes. "You love me, Crier, you love me," she singsongs, hand rested on her stomach from the cramp her laughter caused.
They both calm down enough for Crier to finally get started on her plan. "Are you too tired, my love? Or would you like to go on a date tonight?"
Ayla's eyes widen, her brows lift in excitement. "A date? How could I ever turn down a date?" she says, resting her hands on Crier's waist.
Crier smiles sweetly at her, "You don't have to say yes, I can tell you worked hard, you're probably tired. We can go on a date any night."
Ayla shoots her a look that says 'yeah, sure,' because when do they ever get a chance to have a date? Between Ayla's training, Crier's studies, and their shared courtly duties, rarely do they have the time to sneak off.
"Crier, darling, light of my life, be serious, please," and Crier rolls her eyes at Ayla's jest, though her heart flutters at the terms of endearment.
"Only if you're sure..." she trails off, and giggles when Ayla nods her head in excitement.
"Let me just bathe first," then Ayla's pecking Crier's cheek and sprinting to the bathroom, clearly eager to get date night started.
Crier grins, and Ayla winks at her before she closes the bathroom door. When she hears the sound of the bath water running, she turns to their shared closet, searching for the perfect dress, especially since Ayla had muddied and crumpled her current one.
---
Once they're both ready, they head out, and shoo away the guard that attempts to accompany them. Ayla is in a tight pair of black trousers, with a deep burgundy silk tunic, and Crier in a lilac gown that hugs her form, then flows straight down from her waist. It's detailed with small flowers, the sleeves soft and delicate. Crier had picked it out weeks ago, and when Ayla whistled at her, made her do a spin, and gushed about how gorgeous she was, she couldn't even meet her eye, too shy and nervous.
Crier led them towards the garden, towards the cliff from their fateful first meeting, with a picnic basket in one hand and Ayla's in the other.
Ayla shot her a curious look when she saw where they were going, and Crier just shrugged. Yes, she'd nearly died here, but Ayla had saved her, like she has over and over again since they'd met, simply by loving her, being with her. It wasn't a place Crier associated with any negative feelings, not anymore.
They laid the blanket Ayla had toted out onto the ground, and Crier placed the basket down as Ayla eagerly began to rummage through.
Crier snorted. "Hungry, my love?"
"Ravenous, I haven't eaten since breakfast," she answers, pulling the wrapped sandwiches out, the fruits, the bottle of juice. Though Crier didn't need it, she'd likely snack on a few of the berries she'd packed, enjoying their taste. Mostly, everything was for Ayla. Always for Ayla, her health, her happiness.
Ayla moans around the first bite of her sandwich, her eyes fluttering back. "You're amazing, Crier," she says, like she'd preformed a miracle by placing some meats and lettuce and cheese between two slices of bread.
"I love you," Crier blurts out, unable to not say it a moment longer.
Ayla stops chewing, her eyebrows raising, and a slow smirk tugs at her lips. She finishes her bite and swallows. "Well, I love you too, very much," she says, and Crier nods, she smiles. She knows that, of course, and it's her favorite thing to hear, maybe right after Ayla's laugh.
They eat their meal, they talk about their days, they laugh, they steal kisses, they act sickeningly in love.
When they finish, there's a brief moment of silence. They take in the wind on their face, the sounds of the waves crashing and breaking against the rocks. The sun is warm on their skin, and Crier watches as Ayla tilts her face up, like a flower taking what it needs.
Feeling Crier's gaze on her face, Ayla slowly peels her eyes open, catching Crier's look of wonder before she's turning away, embarrassed she had been caught.
Ayla laughs and moves closer, grabbing Crier's face, kissing her. "What's gotten into you today, huh? You're acting like this is a first date," and though she's teasing, Crier can't help but worry she's ruining the moment.
Crier holds onto her wrists from where her hands are framing her face. "A-Ayla... I didn't... I didn't intend this to just be a date..." she says, biting her lip in anticipation.
Ayla quirks her eyebrow. "Oh? Please do enlighten me, little fox."
She gives a shaky, nervous nod. She stands up, grabs Ayla's hands, and pulls her up, too. She guides them toward the cliff, though not to the edge, as she'd learned that lesson once before. She turns to face her girlfriend, and hopefully, her new fiancee.
"Ayla..." she begins, but trails off.
"You don't have to be nervous around me, Crier, you know that," Ayla urges, looking her deep in the eyes.
"Do... do you remember when you saved me? Right here, you saved my life."
Ayla nods, curious as to where this is going. "Of course I do, how could I forget my lovely little damsel in distress?"
Crier rolls her eyes, playfully, and has to work to fight back her grin. "Yes, well, you're making this less romantic than I had intended."
Ayla laughs, she squeezes her hand. "Okay, okay, baby, I won't joke anymore."
Crier nods, and she tries again. "I.. I-I hope you know that isn't the only time you've saved my life.
Ayla says nothing, she just stares.
"Your love Ayla... I don't deserve it..."
Ayla shakes her head, furiously, cutting her off. "Don't say that, Crier, seriousl-"
Crier shushes her, turning to fully face her now. She puts her hands on Ayla's shoulders. "Let me finish, please?" she pouts, and tentatively, Ayla nods, though she hates when Crier self deprecates.
"Ayla... by all accounts, you should hate me." Again, Ayla shakes her head, but she says nothing. "And somehow, I got lucky enough that you fell in love with me anyway. Your love, Ayla, every day, it saves me. Makes me feel like the luckiest, happiest girl in the world. I'm thankful, so, so, grateful. And I love you, more than anything."
"I love you Crier, so much," and though she isn't typically one for tears, Crier can hear the wavering in her voice.
"I-I want to show you... how much I love you," and then she reaches into her pocket, and pulls the small ring box out.
Ayla's jaw falls open, one hand coming to cover her mouth. "Crier..." she starts, and then Crier backs up and drops to one knee, taking Ayla's hand in her own.
"Ayla, I love you. And you can say no, but I... I hope you'll say yes. I had always intended for us to spend forever together, but I'm asking if you'll spend it with me as wives? Will you, Ayla? Will you marry me?"
She opens the box, the ring on display. Ayla, too stunned for words, just nods her head furiously, and so Crier slides the ring onto her finger, her hands trembling. Tears brim and spill over Ayla's eyes, and before Crier can even stand back up, Ayla's dropping to the ground, throwing her arms around her.
Crier breathes a sigh of relief, nuzzling her face into the crook of Ayla's neck. She plants a kiss there, and mumbles, "I was scared you'd say no, that you'd think it was too soon... or too... serious. Too real."
Ayla huffs a laugh. "How could I ever say no, Crier? I'll marry you right here, right now, if you wanted me to."
It's Crier's turn to laugh. She pulls away from their embrace, frames Ayla's face in her hands, thumbs the tears away, and kisses her. It's soft and sweet, and each time they go to pull away, they can't help but kiss again.
Finally, Crier manages to say, "I do enjoy planning, you know. As ready as I am to marry you, I would like it to be an event."
Ayla nods, she smiles. "Anything you want, Crier. Anything."
Crier brushes her nose against Ayla's, their eyes fluttering back at the gentle gesture.
"I have everything that I want, right here, in my arms."
for a request could you write a Crier’s War fic? I feel like they’re such a criminally underrated ship, I’d love for you to write something for them since you have flawless writing skills
Butterflies
Crier x Ayla (Crier's War)
A/N: Awh, thank you so much for that kind compliment! That really means so so much to me! <3 I love Crier and Ayla so much, Crier's War was one of the first fantasy books I read when I was getting back into reading, and the first sapphic book I read which really helped me come to terms with my own identity! I will always love them so much. I've been wanting to write for them, but I guess I haven't had the proper motivation. I'd love to whip something up for them, though!
~~~
Crier sits next to an open window in the library, the breeze making the loose strands of hair in her face flutter around, tickling her. Her nose scrunches at the sensation, but before she can move the hair from her face, another hand is rising up, tucking the lock behind her ear, doing it for her.
Crier looks up at Ayla, into her dark brown eyes. "Thank you," she says, ever polite.
Ayla smirks, "You're welcome, my love."
Crier swears Ayla does it on purpose, calls her these terms of endearment, just because she knows what it does to her. Weeks ago, they'd been laying in Crier's bed, Crier's head on Ayla's chest while she carded her fingers through her har. Crier had confessed that being near Ayla, when Ayla touches her so gently and talks to her so sweetly, it gives her a... funny feeling, in her stomach.
Ayla had jokingly asked if being near her made Crier feel sick, to which Crier immediately sat up to look down at her.
"Don't be ridiculous, of course it doesn't make me sick!"
Ayla was laughing, of course she knew what Crier had meant. But she always loved to antagonize her, just a bit. It was too easy.
Ayla had asked her to describe the feeling, and Crier did. "I-It feels like, like maybe there's someone, running around in there? Like it feels warm, a-and funny... like I'm being tickled from the inside out."
Ayla had smiled and nodded, reaching up to tug on Crier's arm, bringing her back down for another cuddle.
"I know what you mean, it's the butterflies. That lovesick feeling. I feel it when I'm around you, too."
Crier had nuzzled her face into Ayla's neck, she breathed in her scent, pine and woodsmoke. "You do?" She whispered against her skin.
Ayla just nodded, rubbing her hand up and down Crier's back, soothing any embarrassment she might have caused. "I do, Crier. Of course I do."
Now, in the library, golden eyes glinting in the sun, Crier, who wants to know everything can't help but welcome the... butterflies, as Ayla called them. She adored the feeling, even more now that she knows exactly what it is. And especially knowing Ayla feels it too.
"Do you feel them right now, too?" Crier asks shyly.
Ayla looks at her in confusion, "Feel...?"
"The butterflies?" Crier finishes for her, tone serious and eyes trained on her.
There's a moment of silence before Ayla bursts into laughter, tears leaking from her eyes. She's bent at the waist, doubled over from how silly she finds Crier in this moment.
Now, it's Crier's turn to look confused. She's a bit stung really, wondering if maybe she's too in love with Ayla, that she's feeling this emotion so often.
Ayla's laughter dies down a bit when she catches sight of Crier's stricken face, feeling a bit guilty for disappointing her. She can't help the remaining giggles, though. Crier's just too damn cute.
"Crier, my love, that isn't something you typically ask someone. Have you been thinking about it, all this time? If I feel it at the same times that you do?"
Crier looks down at her hands in embarrassment, whispering a gentle "Oh" under her breath at the knowledge she might have invaded Ayla's privacy.
Ayla feels guilty, never wanting Crier to feel ashamed. She stands from where she sits across the table, coming closer to Crier, taking the seat next to her and scooting as close as she possibly can.
"I didn't mean to embarrass you, Crier. I just found it funny, and cute. That's all."
Crier nods, still refusing to make eye contact with her girlfriend, her soon to be wife.
Ayla sighs, placing a hand under Crier's chin, bringing her head up so that she can really look at her.
"Crier, I doubt we always feel butterflies at the same exact time..."
She doesn't speak, she just waits for Ayla to continue.
"I feel them when you're asleep, when I wake up before you and see you clinging to my arm. I feel them anytime you speak at council meetings, when you stand up and take control of the room," she runs a thumb over Crier's bottom lip, "I feel them when I watch you read, when we swim together and you laugh every time I dunk you under the water. I feel them when you forgive me too easily, and when you kiss me, Crier, I feel like I'm going to burst because the feeling is so strong."
Crier smiles now, gentle like most everything she does. This time, when she breaks eye contact, it's not because she's embarrassed. It's because she's overwhelmed.
"Look at me, Crier." Ayla says, leaning closer to her love.
Crier does, and in just a quick moment, their lips meet, molding together like they were made to do so.
In this moment, neither one of them doubts what the other is feeling. It's love, adoration, complete and utter worship.
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