But we all know what should have been.
They meet one day while he's eating oysters with her sisters. Or maybe in her shop – he needs an exorcist for work.
Or perhaps they meet in a bar.
It doesn't matter really.
Maybe they fall into bed immediately, but, knowing her, she makes him work for it. He is surprised and irritated. He can't remember the last time someone didn't fall for his charm.
She thinks he's cute. That silkspeak would work on her, oh please. He stops though and she realises that he's totally unaware of his power.
Or maybe she's just stubborn.
After weeks, months or even years they start dating.
One by one all eight of her sisters threaten him with an increasingly painful demise if he ever hurts her.
Only the twins mention that she'll probably do it herself.
He introduces her to his mother and it's love at first sight. His mother tells her all of his embarrassing childhood moments.
She tells his mother about the time he whacked his head on the low doorframe of her shop.
She bullies him about proposing not knowing that the ring's in his back pocket.
They marry a few months later.
The wedding is huge. She's always had family, eight sisters, parents, nieces and nephews.
But he only has his mother. It bothered him for a while but now he has her too.
And the kids.
They come along later. Three beautiful, outgoing girls and a shy, quiet boy with all his parents' powers.
Their grandmother adores them.
They idolise their cousins.
They all live happily ever after and die painlessly in their sleep at a ripe old age.
But we all know what really happened.
They never meet.
She dies in her shop, in her sanctuary, and all her power can't save her – only marks her out as a target.
He kills himself in his mother's house, her bloody, broken body at his feet, anguish and fury etched on every line of his face.
And it's all my fault.