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For the month of love I’m posting my one and only ever attempt to write romance. It’s mythical fantasy so I didn’t stray too far afield from my usual work. However, the story was forced out of me during one of my MFA classes focused on various genres. Romance was the one I dreaded the most and I think you’ll see why when you read it. After the story, I’ll share some tidbits on why I think my attempt is pretty hilarious!
Agir waited under the stars. The massive trees enclosing their secret spot framed them in circle, perfect as she was. A cool breeze tickled his naked body, reminding him of the first time Iella came to him. Her golden hair had drifted around her face as her foot graced the ground, like a feather falling gently to the earth. Gray eyes and silvery white skin, hidden by the thinnest of blue veils, sparkled. He’d thought her a ghost, but then she touched his arm, still dirty and sweaty from a full day’s work. Rather than the icy touch of a specter, a warmth more comforting than a hearth fire traveled up his arm, spread through his body, and filled him with a burning desire. She’d smiled as the veil fell aside, and the warmth wrapped around his heart. He loved her then, as any mortal would.
She returned to him night after night. Their love unwitnessed by any except the stars, and those belonged to her. He never understood why she’d chosen him. Even in their whispers of exhaustion, she’d only say it was because he loved her. He longed to hear her say she loved him, too. Though he knew she did, deep in his heart, in a place no other could ever breach.
His body stiffened as the movement of stars caught his attention. They swirled together into an almost imperceptible, glowing mist. Anyone looking up at the same time as Agir would assume a thin, high cloud had caught the last bit of moon or sunlight as it moved through the air. But mist grew brighter, separating from the stars as it descended to Earth, towards the quiet meadow known only to Agir and Iella.
He stood, the aches and bruises from the day’s work forgotten. As the mist landed gracefully on the blanket he’d laid out, it took shape, becoming as solid as Agir. He gasped, as he always did, at the transformation. She took his outstretched hand, and he pulled her close, embracing her.
“You’re late, my love.” His hands traveled up and down her bare back, coming to rest on her hips.
“The stars move in their own time, Agir.”
“But we move in time together when you are near.” He swayed them back and forth, dancing to the music of starlight that only they could hear.
The edges of her mouth curved up, and she responded, moving her body in time with his. Then she stepped away, taking his hand and pulling him down to the blanket. Their dance continued until he collapsed in exhaustion.
Curling up beside him, her skin glistening with sweat, she nestled into the crook of his shoulder, her head resting on his chest. He caressed her arm, feeling the shivers pass through her.
“You’re cold.” He tried to get up for another blanket, but she held him firmly down.
“No. I am not cold. It feels good. I always feel warm in your arms.”
“Is that the reason you come to me night after night?” He did not say ‘only’ but it was there, hanging above them as clear as the stars.
“Are you not happy?”
He moved to see her face. “You have made me happier than I have ever been. But I want to know if I have done the same for you.”
Her eyes twinkled. “I would not return if you did not.”
“But do you love me?” The words burst out of him, uncontrolled, desperation winning out over propriety.
She sat up, pushing past him to gaze up at the stars. “Gods are forbidden from loving humans. Even interactions such as ours could be seen to violate our most sacred tenet if I–”
“Interactions? We are more than these interactions.” He stood, physically towering over her, but still cowed by her grace. He continued, his voice a whisper, “You are with me every moment of my life, whether the sky be gray, blue or night. I feel you turning my head away when pretty maidens try to get my attention. It’s your hand that pushes away the dowries offered by fathers anxious to secure their daughter’s futures. You lift me up in the field when exhaustion or thirst threatens to break me.” He knelt in front of her, tenderly caressing her hand, looking for acknowledgment, anything to let him know he was right.
He put his hand to her cheek, bringing her head down so he could see her eyes. “Tell me none of that is true. That I’m imagining it. That I’m only bewitched by you because you are a goddess and I’ll never ask you again. But I need to know if what I feel is true.”
A tear escaped as she closed her eyes. It glistened and sparkled like a shooting star as it traversed the contours of her cheek before falling to the ground, transforming to diamond. “Would you still want to know, if it meant I could never come to you again?”
“If you love me, there is nothing that could keep us apart. I would never leave your side.” He gripped her hand tightly, tried to make her feel the depths of his love.
“To know a god’s love is not a small thing. There is a cost.” She turned her head upward, a furrow appearing on her forehead, the glow and sparkle of her skin diminishing.
“No god or man could keep me from you.”
Her face softened, though her gaze still rested on the stars. When her eyes returned to his, the glint had returned, her skin radiant again. “I hope that it is true, because I do love you.”
His chest swelled and tears filled his eyes. He tried to pull her close, but his hands passed through nothing, blue mist filtering between his fingers as it vanished. “No!” He fell forward into the emptiness where she’d sat and pounded his fist. “But you love me!”
The sky cracked, dark clouds rolled over the clearing, and the night turned black.
Author Notes:
So there you have it. This is why I don’t write romance as a thing, as the main thing anyway (my stories do have some romance but only when it is natural and integral to the characters, not as the main point).
In our class, and indeed outside of it, the romance people said that what happens when people try to write romance is it reads like directors instructions on a script. Cup her cheek, grip his arm, etc. That’s exactly how I see this story. It’s awkward!
Granted, the whole human intimate experience is often filled with moments of awkwardness, but in romance fiction it’s, well, romanticized. Even the awkward moments, if there are any, are endearing. When the author is good at it at least.
That’s not me.
And that’s ok. I don’t intend to write romance as the main genre. I do have a few fantasy stories where the romance between main characters is crucial to the story. They’d probably be considered romantasy because of that (without the romance there’d be no plot) but the stories aren’t about the romance. It’s about seeing events from the perspective of these characters who happen to be connected together by love, or hate, depending on what point in the story you look at.
By the time I get around to writing them though, this whole romantasy trend will probably be over. I’ve got some space exploration and straight up save the world fantasy to finish first.
What did you think of this attempt at romance? Did you cringe as much as I did? Laugh too? I’d love to know.
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I didn't cringe...
I remember me own broken heart, falling for someone I knew I couldn't have forever after... I feel a tear..