Jon Arryn 2, 295 AC

The feast to celebrate the arrival of the Prince of the Stepstones, and indeed his wedding to Ariane Martell, scheduled the following week, was a collection of the most powerful and influential individuals in Westeros, all of the Lord Paramounts, save for Greyjoy, were in attendance, and even then both of his prospective heirs had arrived as guests with other parties.

Despite this collection of all the great players in the Game of Thrones, it was inarguable that the groom to be took prominent place from the moment he arrived, sitting adjacent to his Uncle in his striking outfit, and speaking in cheerful booming voice so that perhaps the whole hall could hear his conversation if they chose to. He had Robert's Charisma, even if he lacked his looks.

"My men should have the Basilisk Isles clear of pirates within the year." The young prince of the Stepstones laughed cheerfully from his Uncle's side. "I was thinking of having a series of plantations constructed there, to better supply the realm in winter."

Despite the pressing danger posed by say, Lady Olenna Tyrell, or indeed by Tywin Lannister, Jon felt Prince Arthur made no effort to hide that he was the biggest threat. Nor did he seem to much care for any conversation beyond his own. The boy seemed utterly unable to recognize the frigid air just across from him, where his betrothed and the queen were creating their own miniature cold snap of sorts.

What's more, Robert seemed quite happy to ignore them as well.

It was uncanny, the two towering Baratheons on one side, laughing and cheering and engaging with the crowd, and the Martell and Lannister on the other unwilling to so much as look at the other.

A mixed blessing to be sure.

On the one hand, it was good to finally meet the Prince in person, and especially to see how well he got on with Robert. It soothed the immediate fear of the man making a play on the throne, but if the way Prince Joffrey looked at Arthur and his party was any indication, a civil war might be unavoidable in time.

The boy had been glancing nervously at the disinherited Baratheon, and at those who had accompanied him in as if any of them might bite his head off.

To be fair, the said party was a show of power in its own right. The room was full of the most powerful people in Westeros, and an unfortunate number of them were amongst the prince's backers. It was as clear a sign as any that he desired the Iron Throne for himself.

The Martells were there of course. Indeed, before Prince Arthur had invaded the Stepstones he thought that they might have been behind his rise. Even once his ambition had been revealed so clearly to be his own, they were still no doubt plotting to help him onto the throne. Indeed, even on off chance, he didn't want it himself, they would probably seek to place him there.

Then the Stormlands Baratheons under his father, Lord Stannis, with their ties by his mother to the Florents in the reach. By all common knowledge, he still maintained strong relations to his parents, and if given the right reasons Stannis would no doubt side with the boy, just as he did Robert.

That alone aligned two kingdoms to his banner, and like the Starks, he had brought a claimant to the Iron Isles with him in his service, though by all rights she had the weaker claim of the two Greyjoys.

Still, Jon had known of all of those connections well in advance. They were no surprise at all, and if it had just been them, he would have had little to worry about.

Unfortunately, that was not the case, for if the party made anything clear, it was that the Prince had expanded his allies well beyond his immediate peers.

Manderly, Redwyne, and far more alarmingly, Royce, were only the most prominent of the coastal lords that flocked to his conversation. Engaging with him, speaking about trade deals and partnerships and penny-pinching.

If it were just merchants discussing it, that would be one thing, but to have his own vassals drawn into the economic machinations of the Prince of the Stepstones and his blasted company was entirely unacceptable.

What's more, the Royce's had always leaned towards sorcery, what with their odd connection to Bronze and the runes of the First Men, and Prince Arthur was whispered to know true magic, or at least employ those who did.

Even further afield, several Essosi of high status had come to attend the wedding, and while they weren't permitted to attend this party, he understood that they wielded considerable influence themselves. 

The Prince of the Stepstones had put himself in a position to control near all overseas trade in Westeros and had multiple Kingdoms at his call. He had subverted, or at least put himself in a position to subvert many great lords to his side.

It wasn't as if Jon was the only one who could see it either. His alliances were right there in the open, clear as day. There wasn't even an attempt to hide it.

Jon looked toward Robert, feeling concern well up.

'So why don't you care..?"

The man seemed as willingly blind to his Nephew's ever-growing influence as he was to his own wife's open dislike for the Princess Martell. 

Jon sighed, reclining into his chair. He had thought Robert better than this, after the war at least.

Now he'd have to…

'Wait.' He smiled, for once, he might not actually have to do it alone. 

His gaze turned towards the Stark section, the Boy grumbling at the Greyjoy, the girl staring at Prince Joffrey, the Tully smiling at her daughter.

And in the middle of it all, there was Ned, an anchor like a great statue over the family, dour-faced and grim true, but never stupid. 

Jon smiled.

At the very least, he hopefully wouldn't have to confront Robert alone.