#this takes place about sevenish years after sparrow marries daeran

[cassynite]

So there was a writing exercise introduced in the discord to have your KC explain why they love their LI. I decided to do it for Sparrow and Daeran to get out of my writing funk and I got this!!!

Anyway I know a few other people were planning on doing something similar and I encourage anyone who's intrigued to do it as well because it was fun and very helpful! Though mine isn't entirely about Sparrow just explaining her feelings lol.

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"Why do you love him?"

Sparrow, Countess Arendae, blinks from where she sits across from you in the tea room of Heaven's Edge, the rare sign that she's surprised at the question. You don't blame her--you're surprised you asked. You hadn't intended to. This was meant to be a short visit, one full of meaningless talk and, maybe, the thing you actually came here to say if you were brave enough. Not this.

But you've long since come to peace with the fact that your mouth gets ahead of your brain more often than not. You just wish you hadn't done it here, with the heavenly former Knight Commander of the Fifth Crusade and one of the most important people in Mendev. She looks the part now more than ever, a noble in truth: with her bright fine though unfashionably high-waisted dress, the ribbons pulling her hair back, the jewelry glittering at her neck and arms, the feathers on her face and her folded wings shining under the sun that pours into the room. She looks like a portrait you'd find hanging in the walls of a palace, and you are grubbier than you've ever been, after weeks on the road and still wearing your armor. You don't deserve to push into Sparrow's personal life.

It had just been a question nagging at you for years now, ever since the marriage was first announced. You'd heard the rumors, of course--that it was arranged, by the queen as a reward so that the successful Knight Commander could be titled a princess, by the queen as punishment to finally pull in Count Arendae's reckless and rakish ways, by the two themselves as a political alliance to do some high-minded things you would never be able to wrap your head around without hurting your brain in the process. Certainly, no one ever thought that the infamous noble pain in the ass and Sparrow married for anything resembling affection. And yet, they were wrong. You were wrong.

You're not here to try and dig into why Sparrow took the title and the manor you currently sit in, when it's attached to one of the nastiest people you've had the displeasure of meeting. But to your surprise, Sparrow doesn't look away and change the subject, or pin you with a thousand-pound stare meant to make you regret entering the room. Instead, her expression softens, turns thoughtful. She's actually coming up with a response. You hold your breath to stop yourself from blurting out anything before she starts, a surefire way to make sure she never finishes her sentence. Even if you don't deserve to know, you are curious.

Finally, after several moments of silence, she says, "He makes me laugh."

Is that it? you almost say. I made you laugh, too, you definitely do not say. But she sees something of it on your face--the first one, hopefully not the second--because her mouth quirks up the tiniest bit, the closest Sparrow ever gets smile. It makes you relax a little in your chair. Sparrow never, ever smiles without meaning it.

"I don't know how to describe it," she finally admits. "How do you speak on nature of love? Sometimes it feels like I've always loved him. That there's never been reason, just existence of it." Another pause as Sparrow struggles to place her words. "He makes me laugh, when there is so little to laugh for. He is--he can be--kind, and thoughtful, and when he looks at me like I'm the only person in the room I know he means it. He..."

Sparrow turns her attention to the window, to the gardens beyond. From your vantage point you can see the entrance to the manor, stone steps leading to the door that opens to the main hall. There are giant flowering shrubs lining the staircases, slightly untamed but still cared for. It's almost summer and the weather has only just become bearable this far north for you; the animals that live here, however, are far more used to the freezing air, and there is life exploding outside, providing movement where the windless air does not. Bees buzz around open flowers, butterflies flit through the air, and birds call from their places in the tree branches beyond the main courtyard.

"His family died here," Sparrow comments. You jerk back to her at the sound of her voice, wide-eyed.

"Uh..."

"It's not a secret," she continues, as still and calm as the trees outside. "Anyone in Mendev can speak on the bare bones of the tragedy of the Arendae line. The Count's family died, and badly. They died in these rooms, and then my husband left, because he couldn't stay."

You did know this already. Sparrow isn't joking that it's common knowledge; when you brought up where you were headed at the nearby Pathfinder lodge, the quartermaster there told you the entire sordid history, just casual conversation. Demons, plague, and a single survivor, just a child at the time. It's all very sad, but it makes you wonder why Sparrow is bringing it up.

"During the march to Drezen, we passed by Heaven's Edge. At my request we visited it, and he threw a party here, forced liveliness into the halls where a demon murdered his family. I didn't understand it at the time; but then, grief is so personal. There is no wrong way to mourn and I wasn't going to judge. Even if I did there were...other circumstances involved as well. It wasn't until after that I realized how terrifying this place was for him, how lonely it had made him. And how he refused to just let it fester as the place where he lost everyone he cared about. He didn't just abandon it--and when the war was over, he came back and he made this place a home with me."

Your hands clench the armrest. She's talking about the Count, but is she really talking about you, who ran away from the place that hurt you and the life that trapped you? Or is she seeing herself, someone who also tried to run away in a moment that makes you flinch even now? You're not sure which is worse--maybe she's not comparing him to anyone at all, which you think might be the actual worst option, that she does not think of you enough to put you side-by-side with the man she loves.

Sparrow's knuckles press against her lips, deep in thought. You've rarely, if ever, seen her put so much care into her words, and unlike you, Sparrow has never been someone who speaks carelessly to begin with. The weight of it, what she's telling you, wraps around you both, makes the sitting room feel small and intimate. "To search for joy in the teeth of spite. Staring at the ghost of the place you loved and refusing to let it go forever...it's brave. I've always thought it was brave, how he refuses to walk away from the things he loves. He stays, even when it's difficult, and he refuses to let life make him anything but happy or keep him from the things he loves. He makes me want to hold on. He finds joy in living, and it me want to live even when it's frightening."

Your breath catches in your throat. She's not looking at you, but you can feel her attention anyway, noticing your reaction to how the conversation has become more than just the shape of Sparrow's love. He stays. And you didn't, and you hadn't meant to hurt Sparrow the way you did, you hadn't thought it would hurt, but it's been a long time since you last left Heaven's Edge in tears and misplaced anger, and you've finally learned that not meaning it, or not knowing, had never been an excuse.

It's enough to make your rehearsed words, the speech you practiced, fly from your brain; but it also gives you the strength say the actual thing you had come here to say. "I'm sorry," you tell her. "For...for everything." It's not enough, but you don't think even the long speech you'd written on the way here would be enough. All the work you've done on yourself and for others since you left isn't enough, and nothing you ever will do could be enough either. You can't change the past. You can't become someone who stayed.

"I know." It's not forgiveness, but her voice is gentle and her expression when she finally looks at you is kind. "I'm glad you came anyway."

The conversation moves on, and the intensity in the room slowly lets go of its grip in the conversation. It's not much longer before there's movement outside--a horse carrying a single passenger in fine riding clothes, his long hair glinting like raw sunlight. He jumps off with practiced ease, turning to where you know the stables are. For a moment, his head turns to the window where you both sit and you swear he sees you both, even at a distance. Even if he doesn't, the moment he sees your mare in the stables he is going to know who has come by.

"I should go," you say, rising. You'd already spent more time here than you expected you'd be allowed, and the last thing you want to do is struggle through another conversation with Sparrow's too-smart, too-cruel husband. Sparrow might be happy you are here, but Count Arendae made it clear the last time you spoke that he hoped to never see your face again, and you can't imagine that opinion has changed over the years.

"You don't have to," Sparrow says. "I already let the staff know there would be three at dinner tonight."

"Ah, well, I don't think the Count is going to be very happy with that--"

"It will be fine. I've been thinking about family," Sparrow cuts you off, so unexpected it stuns you to silence. There is more to her now, than you've ever seen in her. She's grounded, her space filling the room. She's not afraid to speak over objections any more. "And I am tired of staring at the ghosts of the people I loved and letting the pain of it keep me away. If you do not want to stay, there is nothing I can do to keep you, but I would like your visit to continue, and maybe for you to visit again afterward. Besides I have--news, that I hadn't had a chance to speak about now. I would like to tell you about it with my husband present." She holds out a hand to you. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

You think about the high-waisted dress she's wearing, so oddly out of fashion, and think you might already know the news she's hinting at. But then, you might not--you've never been good about guessing what secrets other people keep. But you want to know, either way. You have missed her for a very long time, and seeing her hand reaching out to you has caused tears to prick at your eyes. After a moment, you finally have the strength to take it. Her grip is as strong as ever.

"Thank you, Sparrow," you say, and her eyes light up at you using her name. "I would love to."