Viserys was well pleased with the outcome of the latest small council meeting. With the stunning victory his brother and good-son had accomplished, Lys and Myr were more than eager to assure the Seven Kingdoms that they wished no hostilities and would cease all piracy in the surrounding waters. In exchange for the crown refraining from moving into the 'Disputed Lands' – a territory that had seen over a century of on-and-off conflicts between those city-states – both cities agreed to continue trading food from those lands to Tyrosh.
For one night of conflict, I have even brought peace to a corner of Essos.
His good-sister had proposed moving some of the freed slaves to Westeros to aid various projects the Dragon Bank sought to accelerate. While there were concerns about the cost, the Master of Coin assured the small council that the wealth taken from Tyrosh was more than sufficient to offset the additional expenses. The captured ships further eased the task.
Houses Frey, Beesbury, Velaryon, Selmy, Manderly, Arryn, Lefford, Reed, and Falwell had already found areas for them. Other houses were more cautious, but it was a start. Viserys was beginning to think his reign was uniquely blessed. What had started as a strike to the heart of his family had turned into a windfall for the Seven Kingdoms.
Conflict aside, it was time to refocus his energies on what he believed would be the greatest gathering of lords during his reign. Two royal weddings held simultaneously were unprecedented in the annals of Westeros. Though he had been dissuaded from some of his more extravagant ideas, it would still be the grandest wedding celebration in a hundred years!
To that end, he had summoned his wife to discuss various aspects. Some details were minor, but they still held significance. He did not wish to tread on his wife's feet, or as his daughter called it 'micromanage,' but certain matters required his attention.
"To my lingering sorrow, I know that you and Rhaenyra do not enjoy each other's company. But please, no open displays of animosity," Viserys commanded his wife. "I also ask that you reach out to her and invite some of her serving staff from Dragonstone. Larys tells me they are the finest in the realm for sweet confections."
Alicent's mouth thinned. "It will not be me who starts hostilities, but I will do as you say. I have already corresponded with her on a few matters regarding the celebration. For all her faults, she does love Elaena, as we all do, and she would not wish to ruin the festivities."
"Good, good. There has been too much strife; these weddings will mark a turning point, for Westeros and this family. The next generation will not have this bad blood between members of the realm. Ser Criston and Ser Laenor at odds, you and Rhaenyra, Daemon and your father. No more."
Before Alicent could argue, Viserys raised his hand, demanding she listen instead.
"I will not argue about who was at fault for any of this; it no longer matters. Since we have failed to set a good example, we must instead give them an opportunity to interact. Starting at the weddings, by seating them at one of the far tables together – my children, Daemon's children, and Rhaenyra's children – feasting, conversing, jesting, and getting along with one another. After the wedding, perhaps as soon as a year from now, I intend to send one child from Dragonstone to King's Landing, and one of mine to Dragonstone.
Alicent looked stricken. "You can't think to send one of our children to that den of debauchery."
Viserys struggled not to reveal his anger at such a statement. He could not quite master his features, but pressed on in a kindly fashion.
"No one will do harm to a child, let alone my child. Send minders, both spiritual and physical if you feel it is necessary. Perhaps some natural friendships will occur at the wedding, making our selection easier."
In truth, based on the ages it would be Aemond, Daenora, or Uthor. It probably shouldn't be Aemond either, and if Lord Borros agrees to the betrothal, it would be good for him to be at Storm's End.
"This is a mistake, Viserys. You turn a blind eye, but all the realm knows that neither Rhaenyra nor Laenor has been faithful. Ask your Master of Whisperers what rumors abound in this very city."
His temper finally frayed.
"Enough! You speak poison to our children over my daughter, and I am sure my daughter speaks poison of you." It had gone on long enough. He couldn't prevent the venomous talk, but he did not need to hear it himself. "No more, not another word about your base accusations against my daughter. Tongues will wag, but I will reiterate that should they wag loud enough to reach my ears, they will go missing. Have I made myself clear, wife?"
Alicent glared at him and lifted her chin. "You have, Your Grace," her words clipped.
He closed his eyes. Why must it always be so difficult? The one tragedy of his rule was the strained relations with his family. What he was embarking upon now was most necessary. Rhaenyra might well be just as angry as Alicent, but he cared not. The next generation would be better and inherit a land under one, unified House Targaryen.
***
The Sealord of Braavos chaired the conference of notables. He had limited the Iron Bank to only six of their keyholders, lest the meeting grow too crowded. Although the meeting was held in Braavos, it already included the head priest of the Moonsingers, a Red Priest of R'hllor, a member of the House of Black and White, two notable magisters, a wealthy merchant, and, of course, his own First Sword.
The dignitaries from other cities included a delegation from Myr, led by the second most powerful magister in the city. Delegations from Lorath, Pentos, and Norvos were also in attendance, though he had limited them to just three representatives from each of those cities. A ship captain from the remnants of the Tyroshi fleet was the only representative from that conquered city. The surprise came when the Volantis delegation arrived with a blue-lipped Warlock of Qarth.
Had he already been in Volantis on some business?
"The Free Cities, and any other allies who wish to join, must make the Seven Kingdoms pay for this treacherous assault! We must stand as one and declare war on Viserys!"
The Tyroshi captain was angry, but looking around the table, others were not. Concerned, yes, but not angry.
"Perhaps," said one of the delegates from Pentos, "you should of have thought twice before trying to assassinate the most dangerous man in the Seven Kingdoms."
"We did no such thing!"
"How would you even know?" The Myrish magister scoffed. "You own naught but your own vessel and your home, and now not even that. Your presence here is merely because you are the only ship that managed to escape Tyrosh's utter and total defeat.
"Why would we even…"
"Enough, you've spoken your piece," the Sealord said with finality. "A man must look forward, not behind him, yes?"
The Tyroshi captain did not look like he agreed, but he did not risk speaking further.
Good. That slaver's bluster meant less than nothing with Tyrosh itself so thoroughly conquered, and it was irksome to hear him speak as if it were otherwise.
The Pentoshi delegation looked to each other, and then one stood. "Prince Daemon and Lady Laena were our guests for a time. They are accounted as friends to us; we should take King Viserys at his word."
Lorath, Norvos, and Myr disagreed vehemently. The Sealord found it curious how passionate the normally distant Lorathi were and made a note to investigate why. They were in favor of punishing the Seven Kingdoms and entering a formal alliance against the dragons.
"Volantis has not spoken, what do you favor?" the Sealord asked.
"We are concerned by the encroachment of Westeros into Essos. Our friend from Qarth believes the utmost caution is necessary."
The blue lipped Warlock gave an enigmatic smile.
"The court of King Viserys is one of power. I do not speak only of dragons. The city reeks of sorcery, and Qarth will not be part of any efforts against Westeros. I urge all to do likewise: you do not just deal with martial strength, but with a sorcerer beyond your ken."
The Red Priest nodded. "We tried to slip ears into the city, and they were swiftly caught and dealt with. Our next step was to send one of our own order, but hearing your warning, perhaps not."
Magic was not something to be trifled with. It was frequently more dangerous and less useful than those who sought to employ it. Those who could master it, though, were dangerous beyond compare. He glanced at the representative of the House of Black and White. Their powers were queer, and the type of sorcery that could be utilized was equally troubling.
The Myrish were distraught, no doubt hoping Volantis and its power would be behind them.
"Mystical nonsense, dragons and men are what should be feared!"
The Sealord ignored that comment and instead looked directly at the Warlock. "Who is this sorcerer?"
"The one we hold in fearful respect, the one that we surmise has apprentices in his craft who may be dangerous as well, is none other than the Hive Master himself. The Golden Glamourer, or, as some know him, the Arcane Apiarist, is the mastermind behind the power of King Viserys. He sits in his councils. He arranges the Dragon Bank to fund the war on the Stepstones. He no doubt had a hand in… enhancing the Dark Storm, allowing him to act as his agent."
There were some frowns, many likely did not know of him. The keyholders of the Iron Bank exchanged glances. One spoke slowly.
"There have been dealings with their new bank, but we have not dealt with him directly. Your description does not match what we know of him."
The Warlock gestured. "Why would it? Their Seven Faiths have no love for sorcery. He no doubt has more arcane elements to focus his attention on than the minutiae of banking. Beware the Bee Lord's sting. His agent is the Dark Storm, a truly malevolent specimen of sorcery, carefully nurtured and funded," there was a sense of dark awe in the Warlock's words, that alone unnerving the Sealord most, "and when one city dared attempt to strike him down, overnight it was conquered. Overwhelming, crushing, enduring retribution - his ensorcelled wings oh-so swiftly deliver."
The wizened head priest of the Moonsingers strode forward, voice low and plaintive. "Such dire warnings we can only redouble, for the moon and skies are conduits through which innumerable magics might flow. Indeed, to the west they are shadowed by a great, Dark Storm. A Velaryon, born among the salt and wave, favored is he by the winds and waters to conquer them so."
The old man raised his arms, as if beseeching the skies, "A Dragonrider, the one who mounts Seasmoke, he who turns the seas and skies black with the soot and smoke of his conquests! He who is at home in the night, the storm, the dark! He who, through unending slaughter, dyes ever more islands in blood and adds them to his domain."
The priest, his tone so solemn and steady as to enrapture all listeners, lowered his hands, "Bloody red, he stains his conquests. Islands surrounded by sea and sky, conquered and taken by storm. Islands through which trade flows like lifeblood across the seas. Thricefold the symbolism. Thrice the workings of sorcerous power." To punctuate his words, the Moonsinger raised three fingers, "Seas of Smoke. Skies of Storm. Islands of Blood. With these as centerpieces, forged and entwined through the vessel of one such as the Dark Storm, the Bee Lord could have worked enchantments of unknowable power. The likes of which not seen since our order hid Braavos from Valyria."
By the end of his words, the priest's aged voice was naught but a hoarse whisper, yet still it carried through the room, "Such a sorcerer is a master beyond the greatest workings and lores of the Moonsingers, and with offerings in blood of such magnitude? All that is touched by the seas would thus contend with a man like forces of nature in battle, thricefold and all the greater for it."
The silence in the hall grew cavernous as nervous gazes flickered between the somber priest and the Warlock, whose eerie smirk and knowing nods subtly confirmed the Moonsinger's urging. Even the Red Priest looked unnerved.
"So you would counsel us to do nothing? Just pray that Westeros does not gobble up another of the Free Cities?" the magister from Myr looked pained and more than a little aggrieved, his voice strangled.
The Warlock spread his hands. "I propose you be good neighbors and seek to trade with them. One of the scions of House Velaryon is on a trip to the easternmost reaches of Essos. Some of our ears have learned that they are on the hunt for specific types of seeds and plants. Some of the descriptors are of those we do not recognize, but we suspect could be powerful magical reagents. If the Conjurer of Coins can obtain what he desires through peaceful trade as opposed to conquest, we believe he will be content. Indeed, for it was disruptions in trade that first drew his and his agent's brutal ire eastward."
The gathered powerful murmured at that. The Sealord wasn't yet convinced. He did not wish for war, and in truth, rejoiced that one of the cities that dealt in slavery had been conquered. Still, the mood had shifted; there was no further talk of military alliances. The cities had decided to instead seek the way of bribery and would be sending wedding gifts and representatives to King's Landing.
The Myrish aren't happy. They'll continue to tinker with their weapons of war, and my own ears will copy those plans. Scorpions that could reliably kill dragons would alter the balance of power. Even if our cities could not be so swiftly taken as Tyrosh – the Seven Kingdoms could easily strangle trade in the Narrow Sea. Westeros is a dagger at our necks until we have an answer, until then that warlock has the right of it. Trade, coin, and peace are the way of it.
***
The Maesters had cleared her for flight and… other activities.
Really now, Vaelar's apprentice assists with childbirth. To think he would be discomfited by the very subject that precedes it!
Laena had enjoyed making the man squirm so delightfully. She was happy and in a lively mood with those around her. Visenya was healthy, her husband victorious, her brother alive, and Elaena had proposed a plan that ensured Maegor would be cared for and cherished. Laena would visit him often, of course, but keeping him in Tyrosh with her and Daemon would have done him no favors.
She was leaving Visenya behind, but only for a time. In a few more months, once she had gained enough strength and size, Visenya could be carried on dragonback. More than anything, Laena longed to reunite with Daemon, to feel his arms around her again. The challenge of ruling Tyrosh together thrilled her as well. While the Stepstones saw plenty of travelers, the trappings of true civilization were absent from those rugged islands. Tyrosh, by contrast, promised far greater delights.
Her flight from Driftmark to King's Landing was an easy one. Vhagar rumbled in mild protest at having to land so quickly. Laena placed a reassuring hand on her tough scales and murmured softly in High Valyrian. She wouldn't be long. Just a quick, private audience with her good-brother, the King, and then she would collect young Hamish Arryn.
Hamish was tasked with establishing the Dragon Bank branch in Tyrosh and aiding in the relocation of freed slaves who wished to settle there or elsewhere. Elaena had sent thoughtful letters outlining potential economic challenges in Laena's new domain, particularly the risks posed by a large number of idle hands without a means of sustenance. Such a situation could lead them to rely on the largesse of her and Daemon or, worse, drive them to theft and other crimes.
Viserys had always been kind to her, and they spoke for several hours, much to the evident annoyance of the King's wife, Alicent Hightower. Laena, feeling charitable, chose to see it as nothing more than a dutiful daughter showing loyalty to her father. Otto's enmity toward Daemon had never been a secret, after all.
Young Hamish arrived with several bags filled with books. Laena wondered how the Arryn of Gulltown had adjusted to not being chosen as Elaena's husband. Clearly, he was thriving in King's Landing. Men thrice his age had bowed their heads and carried out his orders before he finally turned to her.
"Lady Laena, you have my thanks for agreeing to take me." Hamish smiled widely and bowed respectfully.
"It is no bother, Vhagar will hardly notice the weight," Laena replied.
"I imagine not. And do not worry, I will stay out of Prince Daemon's way. I don't believe I made a good impression on him when we met," he smiled wryly.
Laena raised an eyebrow.
"I refused to spar with him, which he took as a craven course. Perhaps it was, but I saw no benefit."
"Ah, 'tis no matter. I plan to keep Daemon thoroughly distracted upon my arrival."
He chuckled. "If you don't mind my saying it, the prince is a fortunate man."
Laena laughed. Hamish was not so easy to tease as the up-and-coming Maester!
The flight from King's Landing to Tyrosh was a long one to do all at once. She could have easily landed at Storm's End, but she was eager to arrive, and Hamish had no objections since he, too, wanted to start his task.
Upon landing, she was greeted by her brother. They embraced at length, the brush with the Stranger having only strengthened their sibling bond. It was a stark reminder that even the most puissant of warriors was not invincible. Laenor had always been a capable fighter, though never one to top the lists. Laena suspected her brother's true potential had only emerged in the crucible of a life-and-death struggle. She studied his features – he looked worn but healthy, and he was smiling.
"I trust Myr and Lys have not dared try anything?"
"Nary a peep from them, save agreement to the King's terms." His lips thinned. "Watch your husband. I fear he is eager to swallow the rest of the Triarchy."
"I shall do my best. I know the King's mind as well as you on this, and I will add my voice to his message. Where is mother?"
"At Storm's End, she gave it even odds that you would be stopping by. With you and Daemon here and the other cities too frightened to try anything, she'll be returning to Driftmark."
Laena nodded, slightly disappointed at having missed her, but relieved to know her mother would soon be watching over Visenya, at least for a time before she resumed her place on the small council. Her retainers would see to Visenya's safety and care, but a babe needed family.
They spoke a bit more about the mood of the city. It was mixed, for Daemon had a fearful reputation, but since the city had not truly been sacked, the people remained cautiously optimistic. Aside from a handful of rapes and a few unnecessary killings, the city was largely untouched. The wealth had been confiscated, but those with vast riches were all tied to the Archon and needed to be stripped of their power anyway. Daemon had the culprits of these crimes executed by feeding them to Caraxes.
By the time their conversation had finished, Hamish had slipped off with a pair of knights, one of whom she recognized as a finalist from a recent melee tournament.
Finally, it was time to see her husband. The guards escorted and then announced her. She passed carpeted halls, with tapestries from Westeros. It amused her because those tapestries must have been brought in with the invading force. The Seven Kingdoms had been quite confident in their victory.
Somewhat less amusing was seeing two women hastily slip out the door just before her arrival. She understood that a man had desires, but she had been expected today or on the morrow. Even so, Daemon remained a glorious sight to her eyes. He moved with an effortless grace that was near hypnotic, and when their lips met, she felt the same hunger stirring deep within her as when he first won her hand.
"Ahh, Daemon, I have missed you. How I wish I could have seen you on the day of your Conquest."
He made a happy sound in his throat as his hands roamed. There was little further talk for some time, but eventually when they had sated their desires they spoke.
"My love, your brother is well pleased with what you have accomplished. I spoke with him at King's Landing, and he knows he can trust you to rule this city well." Laena was curled up next to Daemon, her fingers idly tracing patterns on his chest. "He also expressed his faith in the strength of your reputation to prevent any further conflict. Your brother cherishes being known as a peaceful king."
Daemon laughed. "My brother has a King's art in using honeyed words to cut to the quick. Lys and Myr will be mine, but it will not be right away."
"Hmm," her voice practically purred at the thought of seeing Daemon bend Essos to his will. "I'll not try to dissuade you, but I also do not wish for strife between you two. I know how much that hurt you, despite your words."
"Bah," he grunted, but also took her hand and kissed it before setting it back on his chest.
He'll behave, for now.
Laena had always thirsted for challenge, which was why her match with Daemon suited her best. Trying to rein in a dragon like him – powerful, mercurial, and vain – would never be easy. But if things were too easy, she would grow bored. For the near term, at least, their time and energies would be focused and kept busy ensuring the city was safe, loyal, and prosperous.
***
For Selene Falwell, the opportunity to serve as a handmaiden to the princess was an exciting one. Not only would she have the chance to know a dragonrider, but there was also the possibility of gaining her assistance in securing a match. In truth, in many ways, she envied Elaena. The princess was but a few months older than her and had snatched the heir of Golden Tooth from the grasp of Westerlands women. Kevan wasn't the most important match, but he was one of the most sought after. His house held significant wealth, and he was said to be kind – nothing like some of the more... aggressive noble sons.
Selene liked to think that she resembled the princess most among the new handmaidens. Her hair was a shade darker, and her eyes were green instead of blue, but they were the same height!
If only I could carry myself with her refined elegance. She moves so effortlessly – I wager she's never tripped over her own two feet!
Lanna Reyne's reddish-blond hair marked that the Reyne family had some blood from outside the Westerlands mingled into their heritage. She was also tall, and her bosom was twice the size of Selene's or Princess Elaena's! Selene might have felt threatened by her, but Lanna was already betrothed to the young Jaren Lannister of Lannisport. It was a grand match, given that he was fourth in line for Casterly Rock, and even should Jason and Tyland not produce any heirs, he would already one day rule Lannisport. The only issue with Jaren was that he was just ten – seven years Lanna's junior.
That girl is far too forward with some of the knights, she's betrothed!
In contrast to Lanna, the last handmaiden to the princess was Cerenna Sarsfield. At eight-and-ten, she was the eldest of them all. Like Selene, she wasn't betrothed. She was pretty enough but dressed in clothing more typical of a septa. In her case, what you saw was what you got, as her piety and faith in the Seven were frequently spoken of.
When they arrived at the Tooth, Selene had expected to accompany the princess during needlework. Perhaps she would brush her hair and help her choose what to wear. Serving maids could do the same, but in practice, it was a good way to bond with the one you served as a handmaiden. It was a chance to discuss the news of the realm, potential matches, and even names for their future children!
She had quickly been disabused of that notion. Elaena had been polite, courteous, if a trifle cold. She explained that she was very busy assisting the Master of Coin, working with Lord Lefford and his son to prepare changes to the Lefford lands, and caring for Viktoriya. She did do needlework, but she didn't need help getting dressed. While she listened intently to gossip, she did not share her own from King's Landing. No, she made it clear that Selene and the others had to be useful.
Lanna sighed in annoyance. "Mother's mercy, this is ridiculous. Why is the language so base, isn't it supposed to Valyrian?"
Cerenna tsked. "It is a bastardized version of it. And you don't know High Valyrian, so don't pretend."
Selene coughed to cover a laugh. It would not do to get on Lanna's bad side. The Reyne lady would be far more influential in the future than Cerenna. She wondered if Cerenna even sought marriage – she seemed happiest in a sept.
"I've heard High Valyrian, and it sounds so much more refined than what they speak in Tyrosh." Lanna paused and then smirked. "Say, Cerenna, what do you think of these freed slaves, the ones who don't even follow the Seven, arriving in their thousands to the Westerlands?"
Cerenna tilted her head, almost like a bird. "I think it's an opportunity. These people were yoked by cruel heathen masters. They were freed by those who serve the Seven. Many will be illiterate and know nothing of our ways, but in time, basic gratitude should compel them to venerate the Seven-who-are-One."
Lanna looked annoyed and then glanced toward Selene.
"You say little, what is on your mind?"
"I'm just focusing on getting it right. Princess Elaena said this was important. The freed slaves coming here do not speak the Common Tongue at all," Selene replied.
"That's stupid," Lanna huffed. "We are to be handmaidens, not translators. Tyrosh is a trading city; surely, there would be some who speak the Common Tongue among them. I should talk with the princess. Someone who arranged this gave her the short end of the stick."
The door opened, and in walked said princess. She wore a slightly amused smile upon her delicate features as she entered.
"It was I who arranged it that way," Elaena said, her voice smooth. "I want the integration of freed slaves within Westeros to be successful. The arrivals who speak our language are heading for other houses that joined me in my efforts to see them relocated here. To that end, they are receiving many who can communicate. I, however, will oversee the more difficult group to work with, and you will be assisting."
Lanna lowered her head, quite far Selene noticed. "Ah, I did not know that, Princess Elaena. Forgive me for my ill-chosen words."
"You have done nothing wrong. In fact, I appreciate you speaking up when you see something that implies disloyalty."
The three handmaidens exchanged glances at the implied threat.
"I swear it upon the virtue of the Maiden that I will do so, princess." Cerenna said in a solemn tone.
Both Lanna and Selene quickly said they would promptly report any disloyalty, but without the show of piety. Cerenna was obnoxious with it in Selene's eyes.
"Ah," the Reyne scion began somewhat nervously, "we four are young women. Will we have guards around us when we interact with the slaves… I mean, freed slaves?"
Elaena nodded. "Yes, especially early on. A few of our dashing tourney contenders who have obtained knighthood will be assisting, along with the Lefford household guard."
"Your Grace…" Cerenna said with some trepidation in her voice. "I know your Knights of Victory have been anointed and sworn to the Seven, taking holy vows to defend us as the Warrior would bid all men of quality do, but until recently, they were free riders and sellswords. I would feel better if more established knights were guarding our virtue and our lives – ones from established knightly houses."
Selene saw Elaena's features slip for the slightest moment from the polite cordiality with which she had been speaking.
"Come with me, all three of you."
The three obeyed, wondering where she was taking them. They stepped into the open courtyard and watched as the beautiful silvery dragon descended. Viktoriya. Sunlight scintillated off her scales, casting additional hues in the light.
"Would any of you like to touch her scales?"
Selene was terrified, but she would not shame herself or her family. Good relations with the King's most cherished daughter would be vital for her future.
"I… I will." Selene said.
Elaena took her by the arm and softly said, "She won't hurt you. Here, yes, that's it. See how still she is? She knows you're nervous and is being considerate."
The scales felt odd, not unlike the hide of a lizard, but significantly harder. They were warm to the touch, and she found the experience a positive one. One by one, the others did the same: Cerenna, with a mumbled prayer as she closed her eyes, and Lanna, with her back straight and head held high.
Ruined a bit by your arm trembling, but a good effort.
"Now, back away and put your hands to your ears," Elaena commanded.
They did so and then Viktoriya roared. Even through Selene's hands the sound was loud. It reverberated through her and her heart thudded in her chest. The dragon then spewed fire vertically up into the air. The flames reached nowhere close to where they watched, but Selene could feel the deadly heat even from the distance.
"Precautions will be taken. You are mine to protect. Just as the Knights of Victory who serve me, some of whom having sworn oaths of vassalage, are part and parcel of my household. You will not denigrate them. Should you feel that anyone has done you harm, or may do you harm, bring your concerns to me. Everyone you interact with will have witnessed my dragon's capabilities, just as you have. Everyone from Tyrosh will have witnessed their former masters' city fall in but one night to the might of our dragons. To them, dragons are symbols of awe beyond measure. I doubt any will risk Viktoriya's wrath, let alone mine."
Selene joined the others in nodding their agreement. If their throats were anything like hers in that moment, they too found speech a burden. Elaena, however, just smiled. A deadly creature spewing fires hotter than any forge was no cause of alarm for her.
Targaryens.
"Now, let's head back inside. I'd like to see how you've been progressing, and afterward, we will join my betrothed and future good-father for lunch."