Your name is Dave Strider and you are 26 years old. You have just gotten engaged. The problem being that you have just gotten engaged to your best male friend in a furious fit of stupidity, champagne, one-upmanship and a weird warm-glowy feeling that occasionally (or more than occasionally) rolls around in the pit of your stomach and makes you act like a moron. You have, over the past 13 years and much careful experimentation, dubbed this “The Egbert Effect”. You would like to state, for the record, that you are definitely, completely and 100% NOT A HOMOSEXUAL. As Bro carefully describes to you what, as the DJ, he’s going to play at the reception (almost entirely a medley of Nicki Minaj and Ke$ha), you carefully nurse a Rock Star and vodka like a 16 year old girl who just popped her cherry at prom and try to figure out what the fuck happened over the past decade or so to land you in this mess.

“I just told the scribes to send various copies around the realm. A couple of months should suffice for people to decide whether they wish to join,” Aegon says, and – Jon reads the first half of message. Then reads it again. Then a third time, and at that point he can’t think he hallucinated it as much as it seems the most likely explanation. “Your Grace, you didn’t just organize a tourney for my hand.” Or: in which Aegon decides that it's time his adoptive father moves on with his life and finds himself a nice guy to settle with. It's just his luck that Aegon is in the perfect position to make it happen.