After the honeymoon, things went pretty well. Perseus landed an editorial job at Argosy. Andromeda spent a while on the talk-show circuit: Loves Fated to Happen were hot that millennium. They bought themselves a little house. It was Greek Colonial architecture, right out of Grant Xylum, and they furnished it to match.

When Andromeda sat down on the four-poster bed one night, she heard a peculiar sound, not one it usually made. "What's that?" she asked Perseus.

"What's what?" he said, elaborately casual.

"That noise. Like-metal?"

"Oh. That." Elaborately casual, all right-too elaborately casual. Perseus' face wore an odd smile, half sheepish, half… something else. "It's probably these." He lifted up his pillow.

"Chains!" Andromeda exclaimed. "Haven't you had enough of chains?"

"Well-sort of." Perseus sounded sheepish, too, sheepish and… something else. An eager something else. "But it was so much fun that first time, I, I… thought we might try it again."

"Did you?" Andromeda rubbed her chin. You don't find out everything right away about the person you marry, especially if it's a whirlwind courtship. Gods knew she hadn't expected this. Still… "Why not?" she said at last. "Just don't invite that damn sea serpent."

And a good time was had by all.