On the edge of a lake, near a mighty forest, was a town much like any other in it’s time. Its people, though poor and not of great standing, still took pride in themselves and their work, taking care of in all they did and upholding themselves with honor. A quiet, ancient place, it seemed to sometimes have a soul, if not a mind, of its own, which, as you will see, lent itself to a certain breed of trouble and an unusual serendipity.

      I suppose this story starts with two friends, having grown up together and apprenticed in the same trade, who became business partners and prominent figures in society. They both wed, and had children of much the same age, one a charming son named Darren, the other a lovely girl, Celine.

      It was decided soon after with little dispute that the two should be married upon reaching the age, to carry on both families’ legacies. Then, there could be no argument over who should inherit the trade.

      Of course, this was all fine in theory, but alas, the two youths had other plans. It seems at once they began to despise each other, their tempers clashing. Neither ever gave in, as stubborn as asses in their ways.

      And so they grew, Celine into an entrancing lady, agile in mind and graceful in movement, and of course stunningly beautiful. Her fiery red hair framed her porcelain face and green eyes, highlighted by a gentle hint of light freckles. She was warm and compassionate, with a loving touch. She was a talented musician, and her slender hands created glorious works of art and embroidery. Even the simpler tasks of the home seemed to acquire her elegant touches. She was usually full of mirth and good humor, but Darren, oh young Darren, he could bring out her anger, her quick temper and lashing tongue. A could mood she could wear like a storm cloud, persistent and brimming with turmoil. Like this she was the fear of all who were familiar with her, known to fight like a caged animal, worse then any man, to her mothers continued exasperation.

      As for Darren himself, he too was blessed with cunning and wit, as well as a handsome face and strong frame. He bore dark curls, and his crystal blue eyes sparkled with a hint of mischievousness. Still, there was no doubt he was hardworking, honest, and loyal, steadfast to the end. He could easily transfer from gentle and soft spoken to exuberant and lively as the situation demanded. Very little ever angered him, except for Celine, who frustrated him to no end. It was unknown whether he was the strongest for his age, and he surely wasn’t the fastest, but he excelled at archery and could best anyone with the sword. The entire town thought they were the perfect match. Except, of course, for Celine and Darren.

      So on it went, each scarcely even wishing to speak the other’s name, until the very days of their predetermined wedding, which obviously brought the two of them great pangs of undeniable rage. They refused to see each other, let alone get married. Both attempted to flee town at one point or another, and it took many attendants and guards at the doors to get them prepared and drug, kicking and screaming (and in Celine’s case, biting) to the alter.

      It was too much to ask to try and have them kiss, so they let them be, to go to the new house built for them by their fathers, and sulk. In a less than graceful act of chivalry, Darren gave Celine the bed and took the floor for himself.

      And so it went, day after day. They in no way resembled a couple, only speaking when necessary and refusing to do any favors for the other. Celine would neither cook nor clean his clothes, and Darren really didn’t raise much fuss over the arrangement. Of course it wasn’t long before Darren fully began to take on the duties of the family business, as their fathers were becoming too old to truly carry it themselves. So Darren’s work grew harder, but he really had no choice, as the money was needed to keep the home running. He would often come home barely able to walk, but in his stubbornness would never dare ask Celine of anything.

      One day he returned, his hands too raw to even lift a pan to cook, and his feet shaking. All he could do was go straight to sleep, hungry. Breakfast proved him no better, but he went to work anyway, again hungry. But when he came home that night, he found food waiting for him, much to his surprise.

      Celine denied any good will in the act, though. She said that the local women had heard of her doings and had begun to chastise her when she went her way about town, and that he should say nothing more of it. “Indeed,” she said, “it is only my duty as your wife.”

      “Of course,” he answered.

      From then on he found his dinner waiting for him, and his clothes were washed on somewhat regular occasion. He found they smelled like hers did, flowers and herbs, and the scent would haunt him throughout the day.

      And so the year passed, a little more tolerable than before, and with perhaps a little less argument. Autumn came, bringing with it the long awaited harvest festival. The town prepared with much joy, decorating their homes and gathering food and presents, bartering endlessly with the merchants who came just for this time.

      Celine and Darren, too, were busy. Both normally delighted in the season, but found more and more that it lost much of its glamour when tied to each other in what seemed to them as such a ruthless way. Despite all this, the town’s general mood ate at their hearts until they were, perhaps, a little nicer to each other.

      This trend showed itself the most when Darren brought home many bolts of fine fabrics, and even a few costlier pieces of jewelry. “They are for a gown,” he muttered, “For the dance? The men would surely talk if I did not show you at least one dance. And it would look poorly on me if I could not even dress my wife properly. I hope you’re happy, I had to save up for months.” Then, as an afterthought, he added, “I’m only doing my duty as your husband.”

      “Of course,” Celine replied.

      Dance they did, as did every couple the final night of the festival. They danced long into the night, at first a little contrived, but eventually, as bystanders would later say, and they would continually deny, they seemed to fit almost perfectly into each other’s arms, if only for the night, as the next morning they were back to bickering in full force.

      Winter came to the town, bringing early, heavy snows and ice. Food was hard to come by, and money just as bad. Soon, it came to be that merchants would no longer dare the trek, and every family was eventually on its own until things cleared up. Darren found the need to stay out longer and longer just to bring food home, and the days only grew shorter.

      One day brought especially heavy squalls, and Celine pleaded Darren not to go (lest she be left alone with no way to care for herself) but Darren brushed her aside claiming, “It is my duty as your husband and head of this household”

      “Of course,” said Celine.

      He did not return before sunset, and the night drew on. It was nearly morning before Darren stumbled in, half frozen. He found Celine awake, still tending the fire. “You waited for me,” said Darren, with a hint of confusion.

      “I could not have the town talking,” remarked Celine, carefully taking his coat and handing him a mug of hot cider, “As surely they would. It is only my duty as your wife” She stared at him for a moment, before adding, “You’ll catch your death that way… I suppose you could join me in the bed tonight, it is warmer and certainly big enough. But don’t you get any ideas.”

      “Of course,” came his reply.

      So it went into spring, and the thaws brought back business and prosperity to the town. Celine and Darren also brightened with the spring, blooming like the flowers. They rarely fought any more, and to the amusement of their neighbors they seemed to act more like friends then the mortal enemies they were before, teasing each other in the garden and laughing together.

      It was on one of these fine spring days that Celine’s father, while watching the local children play, asked her about having some of her own. Instead of getting angry or disgusted as expected, Celine simply blushed.

      A couple nights later she mentioned it to Darren. “It is not like we need to any time soon, of course,” she said, sort of stumbling through the words, “But it is my duty. I am your mate.”

      Darren leaned forward, gently taking her in his arms, his face nearly touching hers and said, “Of course. As I am yours,” and he kissed her. She never even tried to stop him.