Conceeding defeat...

okay, okay, I admit it! I give! Uncle! As embarressed as I am to admit it the sad truth of the matter is that I am meant to write (and it makes me faintly ill even to think it) ROMANCE Novels!
Aaaak!
seriously though, I seem to have a real knack for the smushy stuff. Dont get me wrong I have NO intention of being the next Danielle Steel or anything, no icky formulaic crap for me! No all ORINGINAL smush crap thank you very much!
To that end I'm posting a bit from my first Novel "The Crown of Arcadia" I just rewote and thought it worked well.
Hope you enjoy!
Corijezmi


Sorell made an effort to join in the jocular conversation going on around him, half in Elivsh and half in common. It had been too long since he’d visited these woods. He regaled the tall, gracefull elves around him with tales of Arcadia and court, some to intrigue, most to amuse. Elves had a peculiar sense of humor that Sorell had come to appreciate. Even as his lips smiled his eyes oft times did not and it was all he could do to pick at the green bounty in front of him. This people ate little meat and that usually for special occasions, but they had a curd of a certain tuber they used in succulent meatless courses, and countless fruits and vegetables many of which he still could not put a proper name to. Serena hadn’t come to the table yet, but custom did not extend to the dinning tables. Large gracefully carved wooden tables had been laid out with great wooden, woven and fresh cut leaves for platters, piled high with delectable dishes. Normally he would have gladly dug in, but tonight the fresh and rich scents left him feeling slightly nauseous, and the merry laughter and conversation of the men and women seated on benches around him rang unpleasantly in his ears. He took a deep breath and looked up at the canopy of leaves overhead, noticing the swift setting of the sun, the light fiery and golden as it filtered through the branches. A tug on his sleeve woke him from his mental wondering. He turned to see his friend Taranis smiling at his wistful expression.
“Come, Le'fenatetha Sorell'eatha (LE'-Fen-A-Tae-Tha Sore-El-Atha the Elvish term that roughly translates to “My adopted-brother-of-the-green-who-for-reasons-I-don't-entirely-understand-chooses-to-walk-within-walls Sorell) the Queen would like to see you now.” He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the appaleation, it had been a while since his friend had called him by that half jokeing nickname. Was he delibreately trying to remind him of this strangeness to their culture or whas he just teasing him? The nearly, but not quite wicked gleam in his eye as he finished his statement seemed like a clear indication it was the later. The Elf practically waggled his high arching eye brows as he told the Mage “She wants to see you, alone.” but then the look was gone before he could be sure he saw anything. So he kept his answer in the clearly correct zone when he told his still smiling friend,
“Of course.” and rose to join him.
Taranis let him down a familiar path until they reached a small clearing around the base of an enormous three. Easily as wide as two average size homes. Which of course is exactly what it was. Serena was the Queen, but when it came to living quarters the slightly larger size and a little plusher interior was the only sign that someone of importance lived there. Taranis walked with him to the door then turned and bowed to him, in an oddly formal gesture, before raising his hand in a small jaunty wave and disappearing into the trees silently. Sorell took a deep breath and raised his hand to knock, when there was a soft call from inside.
“Come in Sorell, I’ve been expecting you.” He shook his head minutely as the door swung open. He stepped inside, nodding at the pair of elves standing just inside the door
“Boys.” He told them with a small quirk of his lips. They looked to be in their late teens, but having met the pair before he was well aware they were closer to seventy than to seventeen. They just tried not to smile back as he took a few steps towards Serena. She stood not too far into the foyer, next to one of the soft benches normally reserved for petitioners. She smiled a small delighted smile at his entrance; he returned it wryly and was pleasantly surprised when it didn’t immediately disappear. She took his hand warmly before turning to the two elves at the door.
“Thank you for waiting gentlemen but I think I’d like to spend a little time alone with my old friend here.” The guards just nodded almost entirely stifeling the conspirtorial grin they shared before they exited on swift and stealthy feet.
The door shut gently with hardly a whisper of sound and Sorell Royal Mage of Arcadia was left alone with Serena Seer and Queen for all the Elvish People. They stood gazing long at each other for one eternal seeming moment, finally it was she that moved. She lifted one hand towards him, raised it half way before pausing hesitantly, her open, innocent seeming face conflicted, she seemed torn between want and concern, hope and fear. “Sorell'Atha easta.” She whispered. 'Beloved of my heart, though not of my kin.' She called him, 'beloved' she named him and the look in her gaze drove that title home. “Beloved.” She whispered again, in common, her hand ghosting up to gently cup his cheek, while her other still held his firmly.
It was too much, the genuine worry, the kindness and gentleness, the unconditional regard he saw reflected like an eternity of summer sun warmed leaves in her gaze. 'Beloved' she had called him and something with in him broke, the ridged control he'd fought tooth and nail for, the facade he'd struggled to maintain all through dinner came crashing down and he crumpled, took one faltering step towards the Queen, not his Queen, but a Queen, a woman he knew heart and soul and flesh, a being older even than he, but with the openess and sweetness of a child. “Beloved” she whispered to him again as he pressed his face into her softly scented palm, comforting tingles of magic and affection lept from her skin to his.
“Serena'Ofetha easta” He whispered back hoarsely. 'Beloved of my heart and guest of my flesh.' tears springing to his violet eyes. He reached for her and slid his arm around her waist, she moved closer, melted against him and let him pull her tightly to him, headless of the wrinkles to her gown or the way the crown of flowers slipped to one side as he buried his face in her fragrent curls. “Serena'Otha easta” He nearly moaned into her hair 'beloved who though not my kin, is my heart.' She surrounded him with her suddenly fiercely strong arms, pulled him to her hard and pressed her cheek to his, whispering, whispering into his ear as he shook in soundless sobs.
“Sorell Easta, I am here.” She told him, “beloved I name thee and thou art.” She went on, “Beloved I call you, even when I now see your soul's match face graven on your heart.” she told him, her dulcet voice throbbing with care and concern as she went on quietly earnest “Beloved you shall always be even when you and your beloved's children's children are soon for this earth. Beloved you have been from the day we met, and beloved thou art.” She repeated and he just held her so hard he would have bruised a mortal woman. Serena was no mere mortal. The greiveing Mage held tightly to her as if she were the only piece of boyant flotsam left after the utter destruction of his ship. He was drowning and this increidble creature was the only thing keeping him afloat.
“Easta!” He moaned again, his heart tearing assunder. The death of his Queen Muriel the finding and then loosing of his soul's match Alinathea, this distrubing, fractured vison of the future. It was too much, too much in the face of the love of a Queen. He sobbed aloud now, tears running down his face unashamedly as he lost all strength. She sensed his fall and stepped back gracefully loosening her death grip enough he could slide down her form, fall to his knees as she gently sat on the bench behind her and allowed him to colapse, let him fall before gathering him to her again, pulling his tear stained cheek to her chest.
“Easta.” She mummered, as she pressed his face to her bosom and pressed her cheek to his earthy curls as she vowed quietly “Beloved, they pain is my pain, thy love is my love, pour out all thy grief upon me and I shall take it up. Beloved, give to me all that is dark with all that is thy light and I shall take it up and carry it with me always.” It was an ancient entreaty, a request and a promise so old even these long lived creatures hardly recalled its origin and it had the desired effect. Sorell let loose his pain and wept for all that was, all that was not and all he feared would be. He shook and cried unabashedly for several long moments. Finally he sobs subsided and he pulled back enough to look up into her stunning emerald gaze. He was a little surprised to see not only tears of sympathy in her eyes, but a minute furrow of regret in her own brow. He reached up to brush it gently with his thumb wonderingly.
“Serena?” He asked huskily. She pushed his hand away gently, her brow smoothing instantly.
“Shhh.” She told him. “Shhh, it is nothing, only an infentessimal moment of regret that it is not I who is your other half.” He suddenly felt like a complete jerk.
“I-” He tried to object, tried to apologize, she stopped with with a quick finger to his lips.
“We both know we were not intended for that life, we both have the Gift and know that is not the intended path.” He saw the clear, sure emerald gaze of a Seer, for the moment, the worried mother, adoring friend, and threatened lover, all vanished and a mighty and benevolent Prophetess spoke to him. Serena the spiritual leader of her people spoke and hehad no choice but to believe. Then she sighed and ran her fingers through his hair, looking suddenly like a love lorn teen ager. “I just sometimes wish...” She told him so softly he almost didn't hear it.” He moved to cup her cheek and she blinked back a tear, calming, and stifeling the moments regret. This time it was he that reassured her.
“Beloved you have been from before we ever met, and beloved thou art.” he whispered, his voice rought from crying, but throbbing with sincerity. She nodded, another tear joining the other, this one though, this one happier and girlish and anceint at once. He straightened, shifting to press even closer to her side as he moved to cup her alabaster smooth cheek. “Beloved thou has always been and beloved thou shalt always be.” he whispered to this suddenly fragile seeming being. “Serena'Ofetha easta” he mummered his voice husky for a whole other reason as he bent to kiss first one cheek and then the other, “'Ofetha” he named her, 'of my flesh' he pledged to her and moved to kiss the tears from her face. She moved to cup the hands that held her face and sighed against his lips as he finally moved to brush hers with his. Fire edged rose petals they were, lightening and storm smothered in velvet and rainwater. She moaned gently against him, as real and hungry as any woman. He kissed her again, licked her full, unbearably sweet bottom lip. She shivered this creature of anceint magic and eternally young face. She trembled in his arms and kissed him back with ardor. She too was lonely, she too grieved and for a moment they could both help the other forget their pain. Together they could create a safe haven, even if it were illusory, even if it were fleeting. Serena Queen of the Glade kissed Sorell the Magician and whispered against his lips.
“Beloved.” He responded by kissing her harder as he stood and swept her into his strong arms.
“Beloved.” he nearly growled back. Hungry beyond all reasoning, desperate for sweetness, and kindness and forgetfullness, if only for a moment. He kisssed her deep and long and she gasped with want biting his lip and suckling his neck as he carried her swiftly into her welcoming bed chamber.