HOW TO MAKE AN ENTRY

(FOR DUMMIES)

JON CONNINGTON

The Hall of a Hundred Hearths was packed to the brim with lot from all over Westeros, and some from Essos itself, come to think of it, he wondered, 'never before have I seen so many sigils in one place.'

To be fair it still bewildered him quite much to see Rhaegar's machinations bear fruit so successfully. 'The largest tourney Westeros has ever seen, a grand event with a greater purpose', his prince had murmured that fateful night with Arthur present, it was the day they had sworn to the prince to bring about into the real the future king's dream of Westeros, a golden age where it prospered out of his tyrant father's shadow, an age that Jon hoped to share as Rhaegar's right hand, looking down on those who judged him unworthy of his place, as the soon to be second most powerful man in the Kingdom.

Thus, when the object of his affection came out of Lord Whent's solar in thinly veiled frustration, he sat up straighter in his chair, patiently waiting for his prince to divulge the events. After greeting his lady wife Elia and patting his daughter Rhaenys on the head affectionately, the Prince picked up his lute before heading Jon's way on the far end of the carefully positioned table. Through picking the lazy notes on his instrument, the prince seemed to calm himself, preparing for a performance in front of everyone soon no doubt. He had told them specifically that not only Rhaegar himself but Jon and Arthur too had to make themselves seen and thought well of in these ten days of the Tourney, for nonetheless some of the cannier men must have realized the 'shadow' sponsor of the event. Lord Whent didn't have the wealth to fund the tourney for half a day even, but the thought of presenting his house and sons to the whole of Westeros was a sight he was eager to see, as ambitious as his uncle Ser Oswell had rightly mentioned. Jon and Ser Arthur were seen as the Prince's men in turn and their showing of worth was as important as the Prince's and while Arthur showed that on the tourney fields with his skill in arms, Jon showed it in the field of courtly intrigue, subtly helping his Liege bring men to their cause and his Prince showed it on both field and court, a feat only a man gallant he could perform.

His thoughts were interrupted by Rhaegar's deeply melodious voice lamenting, "Lord Whent won't support us"- he let out an explosive breath- "not beyond the token support of words he gave at the time of Ser Oswell handing out the funds a year ago. I almost feel duped. Almost"

Jon knew to fan his Prince's anger with his own opinions of cowardly Lord Walter would only serve to let the man explode in rage sometime later, granted the prince rarely raged, the rare times he did show frustrations with 'people refusing to let him 'help' the realm' made Jon shudder for it reminded only barely, Rhaegar's sire's own fury. He tried not the think of Rhaegar having the famed Targaryen madness, surely his liege would never wound up in his father's steps. So he tried to console the Prince.

"Lord Whent has been incredibly magnanimous by sanctioning this tourney, your grace. Very few Lords would condone veiled regicide, even for a hundred thousand gold dragons," he added contemptuously at the end, failing to hide his opinions about this giant of an investment. Jon trusted Rhaegar, of course, but he was always wary of spending large sums on big risks, as most men would. Jon was a rational man with a good calculating head on his shoulders.

His Prince smirked softly in reply, an action that brought warm feelings to the depths of his body, "You still doubt this venture Jon? although I will grant you the wariness regarding it, it is a deep hole in our treasury that I can't recover, still I would have my loyal men, with Whent on my side or not, he is only a prop after all in the grand scheme of things, what I truly need is this budding alliance of Stark, Tully, Arryn and Baratheon. My father may turn a blind eye to their dealings, secure in his false sense of being protected, but I see them for what they are, a northern bloc of power, united by marriage and fostering's. Lord Brandon Stark to Lady Catelyn Tully, the second son sent off to the Vale to establish relationships with the Valemen and Lord Arryn's cunning maneuvering of adding cousin Robert to the bunch and then that masterstroke of a move to betroth Lady Lyanna to my cousin, a larger alliance I have never seen in any of those histories I read, their objectives I know naught yet I must have them, them better than Lord Tywin ever grasping for more power."

Jon's mind set alight with the possibilities as Rhaegar begin warming up with Jenny's song "What could we give the likes of Lord Tully other than the marriages he seeks for his brood, his grace is married already and lord trout has wealth aplenty that no bribes would suffice him."

Rhaegar didn't reply immediately, although he did miss a note at hearing Jon's observation. Jon knew presenting the likes of princes and kings with more problems wasn't the way to truly advise them, so he tried another path, "Perhaps we could enquire into the Vale for eligible ladies for little prince Viserys." Lord Arryn would be helplessly reduced to seeing one of his vassals receive royal patronage, an enquiry would be enough though to bring Lord Arryn an opportunity to be more willing to come to his grace's side, groveling to wonder what wrong he'd done that his liege would raise his subordinates to a level nearly equal as him.

The prince though snorted openly at his suggestion, prompting a few tables to look at them in curiosity, no doubt envying Jon his position at the Prince's side, he resisted the urge to preen at the attention.

"Viserys deserves a better consort than anything the Vale may scrounge up for him, I will make sure of it. Perhaps even Lady Cersei to finally placate the Old Lion?"

'There goes another path', Jon sighed, "Your grace's cousins the Baratheons then? what could we offer them that would have them join our cause."

"The Baratheons are my cousins by blood, Robert wouldn't betray me, he is a lout and a whoremonger, not the kind of man I like to associate with, but he is not a betrayer to blood, yes…. that much he is not…" the lute plucked on ahead, the jaunty tunes of the Bear and the Maiden Fair contrasting against Rhaegar's natural quiet disposition.

Jon wondered what would happen if Lord Robert did betray his prince, would the Conningtons have a chance to rise in place? An attractive thought, although one he would keep that thought deep inside lest his prince think him a man seeking his company for nothing other than a chance of personal gain. His personal feelings aside, Jon worried greatly of their future plans, if the prince didn't have a scheme to give the Lord's Paramount what would he possibly give them that would make them Rhaegar's men? A coil of doubt spread through him and yet again the comparisons of Rhaegar and his father cropped up. 'The apple didn't fall far from the tree', a treacherous voice squealed deep from the recesses from his mind, although he was quick to squash it down. He was Rhaegar's man, it wouldn't do him good to think bad of his Prince, perhaps he was simply secretive of his plans, perhaps-

Rhaegar interrupted his thoughts with a somber low tone, "The Starks though, I do have plans for them Jon, that I do, it must be done after all, Elia can't provide me more heads for the prophecy…." He muttered ahead looking pointedly at Lady Lyanna Stark, a strange gaze for the prince had never bothered mentioning the barbarians before. The Starks sat at the far end of the circular arrangement by regions of the land at the feast tables. The lady quite noticeably annoyed by the attentions of her betrothed as she smiled at him quite forcefully as he laughed along with Eddard stark at a jape.

"The Starks, your grace?", Jon inquired after his prince's ramblings,

Why could Rhaegar possibly mention that plain thin girl, the Starks had nothing to give from that frozen wastelands of theirs, nothing valuable at the very least other than fighting men and the occasional need for imported ice at the feasts of rich lords, and yet Rhaegar deigned not to give a proper answer, instead shrugging his worries off with an easy smile and going back to his music. A few moments later as the food came in and the smell of boar reached him, he too was shrugging off the matter of the Starks.

As the feast neared to an end, Rhaegar ascended to a raised stage at one end of the hall, a natural shush rising in the hall. Jon grinned, his prince had that effect on crowds, they knew when a better had graced them with his presence. The notes started as Rhaegar weaved a story from his song, a sad one albeit although one that had even hard men as Lord Tarly watch in silence with nary a word of judgement but rather grudging admiration. Jon looked around the hall to see not a lady had unshed tears, even the half-wildling Stark daughter couldn't help but cry at the beauty of his Prince's word. Magic woven through words indeed. When the words came to a halt, a noticeable lull could be heard throughout the hall, men unsure of whether to clap or cry themselves and ladies not yet over bawling out tears. Rhaegar bowed gracefully to the audience with even his departure not immediately disturbing the silence till a loud shriek erupted from the Northern ward, a fight between the stark sibling that he cared not much to pay much attention as to as much as he did to Rhaegar's smile at the Lady Lyanna again, a slow pit of jealously couldn't help but rise inside Jon as he led the slightly delayed applause that thankfully drowned out the bickering of those children.

Lord Whent made a beeline towards the Prince as the first of many admirers, working his way towards giving the sweetest compliments to the prince, how his voice had almost made Harrenhal forget it's terrible gloom!... on and on he went and Jon's innate stormlander spirit couldn't help but sneer at the flowery language, at the duplicity of lords who would say one thing to your face and another behind your back, weak as they were to back words with steel. Lords Paramount too gave compliments to his prince, the blasted lady stark profusely thanking Rhaegar for that performance, Jon then had to take an explosive breath in when the prince replied in kind with a kiss to the lady hand, not noticing his 'dear' cousin Robert flashing a look of pure rage at him for a moment.

That was all for the day, the joust would start a couple of days later while tomorrow would be the lesser games. The forty-seven course dinner had done Jon in and he wished for nothing than a soft bed to lie down in, it would have had been a good end to the day, if not for the sudden commotion at the far end of the gates, horns sounded amid general confusion as the guests who had departed to their chambers were now bustling out with the late remaining drunkards not helping with their stumbling, an unwilling Jon was pressed in to the mass of men and women as he was roughly bustled out of the hall as the small mob made its way to the source, Rhaegar had yet to make an appearance but certainly men had been sent to alert him, Lord Walter rudely awakened from his slumber was in ill mood as he lambasted his men shrilly, "What is the disturbance? Who is it?" An answer Jon was glad to know as well just to clout the idiotic party that had presumed to make such a loud entry at the end of the bloody feast! Just as he had that thought so was it answered as – were they Mooton men at arms? - made their way to clear a path-quite roughly- allowing a small passage to form for a group of more men galloping towards them in the dark, the lack of proper light making it hard to see the culprit of the commotion.

Rhaegar and Elia has made their arrival at the head now, while Lord Whent went amidst the cluster of camps to see to the new arrivals-and bent the knee abruptly-Rhaegar was frozen in his place as a herald loudly announced, 'Make way for his Grace, King Aerys Targaryen, second of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm.'

The scene was quite majestic to be frank as the entire cluster of camps, from high and mighty lords to lowly whores, bended their knees in submission to the man riding at the lead. It must feel good to be king

For the rest of his life, Jon Connington would remember this exact moment as the start of the troubles of his life, Rhaegar's performance being the end of spring as if with the King's arrival the start of a long, long winter. Rhaegar remained stunned in place, mouth still slightly agape in a most unroyal way, as knees bent all around him, but not for him. The King, oh it was strange to see the sudden changes in the man for it took Jon more than a moment to recognize this cleanly shaven, cropped and neatly dressed man in front of him, he was old aye, but ghastly he was not, so much unlike the King he'd seen before departing to Harrenhal. He forcefully made Lord Whent rise up and smiled at him in a way that made him reminisce the time when Rhaegar recounted his father as being charismatic at the start of his reign. The king carried a shortsword in a silver scabbard, the slightly drawn blade glimmered out of the scabbard as it headed towards his Prince. A sudden chill filled him at the implication, have been caught in our plot? But it proved wrong as the king hugged his son instead and clasped him by the shoulders later ignoring Rhaegar's hand still fallen at his sides, where he didn't really respond to the King's affectionate gesture.

The king then waved away Lord Whent blubbering apologies, apologizing in return for not informing the lord of his arrival, then he turned to the crowd and announced, "My subjects, I am glad to partake in this gathering of us all, however I apologize for disturbing you so late in the night, we shall break bread together come morn, but for now I shall bid you all night as it is nearly the hour of the bat."

And just like that he left with Lord Whent showing him to his Kingly Quarters, the Whent lord's own chambers that is, leaving everyone else in shock, Rhaegar retreated with his wife, but not before looking at Jon in horror, the implication behind his expression clear.

It truly was a horrible investment.