Immediately the Queen of Mean starts in with the Why Not Me and I'm Perfectly Capable Of Being A Hooch that will come to characterize her entire personality -- although, to be fair, we have not yet gotten to the nutjob parenting or the baby-killing fervor which will eventually lend this lady what you call "depth" -- and Vivarin, used to this one-up-witchship, puts ye olde smackdown on this obviously dorkiest sister and then comes back with a casual blah blah blah marriagecakes about how the Queen of Mean is going to get hella legacy in the form of a king and some sons, which she knows because she's Oprah and she knows all, including how to shut up her sisters when she wants to. Migraine's eyes water as she attempts to get the discussion back to what's important, herself, and the moral dilemma she may one day face.
In case we missed it scant minutes ago, there's another review of the political atmosphere in this made-up Britannia. The deal is that there are two cultures in Britain: the historically-accurate Christian hordes of blond guys with Mad Martigan braids and swords; and the nice-to-imagine sensitive New Age guys who are identical to the previous dudes, only they worship the Goddess. They are against each other in that football-team-vs.-drama-club way that echoes throughout all time and will finally come to a head in the person of Arthur Pendragon -- the football team and drama club son of the projected but still hypothetical Ho-Bag Union -- and he will lead the united Christians and pagans to victory against the way-encroaching Saxons.
Rogaine has some kind of fit due to the epileptic trait she inherited from her mother, and it's all death and fire and some Britons with braids and swords whuppin' each other, and she kind of faints against a wall. Instead of getting her niece some medical attention for the seizure, Vivarin proclaims that the Sight is strong in her, and silently prays that it's the kind of "knows everything" psychic power that she has instead of her sister's pointless two-second clairvoyance before saying, "[Rogaine] has the Sight already." Wouldn't it be interesting if we learned more about Rogaine's psychic powers? Or if we could hang out with Vivarin all day, manipulating the weather and pimp-smacking the Queen of Mean whenever she got uppity, or if the next hour never happened and we got immediately to beautiful Juliana Margulies instead of this scary child actor who : Christina Ricci :: Leelee Sobieski : Helen Hunt? If we didn't have to watch the labored manipulations that bring Migraine and Uther Pendragon together in order to breed His Bi-ness Kink Arthur? Wouldn't it be cool if we just ignored awful boring old Migraine altogether from this point on? Yeah.
So Migraine and her husband Gerlois head off to some kind of meeting with Uncle Junior at Satriale's, which has been remodeled into a Renaissance Times restaurant. All the blond, braided capos of Briton are eating dinner. There's some flirtcakes about how Migraine is hot, which I assume is a little white lie intended to make Gerlois feel better in front of his paisanos, and she acts like a cokehead talking shiznit to the High King Ambrose way beyond what's appropriate. High King Ambrose thinks it's funny, but I think in that Satriale's way of maybe he's going to have her rubbed out. Then this gross guy comes running in like he's the superstar of the party, and he has some dogs with him, on leashes. It's weird, because slow-motion for no reason is weird, and also he's yelling at the dogs. He calls them Hounds of Hell, but they're just big ugly dogs of I don't know what breed but obviously not standard poodles, so Uther Pendragon is just stupid because he doesn't even know what kind of dogs he has. He laughs in the devil-may-care way of Robert Downey, Jr. in Home for the Holidays or in fact Robert Downey, Jr. at a drug bust, court hearing, or gay cabaret. Migraine and the mysterious dude look at each other for a while. Her eyes water.