Of course. That's what bad guys do.

"Oh fine," Garvis says with a laugh. "In two days time you'll be standing at my side in the capital, my capital, announcing our grand alliance to the surface world." He grabs a giant turkey leg (or the underground equivalent, anyway) and inhales mouthfuls of it like a disgusting pig. "Once that formality is out of the way, our combined armies should have no trouble smashing the other dark elf houses and leaving me... us in total control of the entire spidersilk market."

The Matron laughs evilly, just like her mother taught her so long ago. She daintily nibbles on a piece of sweet spider pie (she's trying to watch her figure).

Why do we call it 'Spider Pie'? There aren't any actual arachnids in it. Ug, we have so many spider-themed foods for some reason. The Matron thinks, as her willpower evaporates and she scarfs the rest of the pie down.

"Just think about how rich it'll make us!" Garvis grunts as he wolfs down his food, spilling it all over the front of his royal robes. "Hell, we could buy half the surface world and still have enough left over to pay for your... habits."

The Matron sighed again, imagining that wonderful day.

"But what about your wife, Queen Belly? Baloney? I... I'm not so good with your overworld names," the Matron says as a blush peeks its way out of her tyrannical façade, if only for a moment.

"She's an idiot. It wont take more than a day to get rid if her," Garvis says as he downs another goblet of wine. "And then we'll pin it on one of the other drow houses. It's a great excuse to start a war."

"And... and then you and I will marry? As a sign of unity between our peoples?" The Matron asks as her eyes brighten.

"Eh... sure," Garvis says nonchalantly.

"Oh Garvis! You're as diabolical as a drow," the Matron sighs as she gets up and walks towards her ruthless co-ruler. "But um...," she hesitates for a moment, kneeling next to him as she takes his hand. "Are... are you sure you can't just... you know... d-divorce her?"

Garvis shakes his head in disgust. "I thought you dark elves were supposed to be cunning and ruthless? The deadliest double-dealers in all the lands?"

The Matron blushes again. "W-we are..." she stutters as she tries to walk back her foolish question. (STUPID, POOKY! STUPID! WHY DID YOU SAY THAT?! DO YOU WANT HIM TO THINK YOU'RE WEAK?! YOU AREN'T HALF THE MATRON YOUR MOTHER WAS!) "We drow just like to keep things simple. I'm... I'm not getting cold foots."

"That's 'cold feet,' and you better not be," Garvis grouches as he violently yanks his hand away from the doting dark elf. "Or I'll find someone who is ruthless enough to go through with it."

The Matron gulps and nods.