Argella

IX. All She's Ever Wanted

Jaime lingered in the corner of the bustling hall, a silent observer to the festivities. All around him, people reveled in the moment, drinking, singing, and dancing as if they were oblivious to the passage of time. He had witnessed this scene countless times and couldn't help but wonder how the lords and ladies never grew weary of it. He felt like an outsider, disconnected from the merriment.

Restlessly shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he surveyed the room once more, until his gaze came to a halt on a pair of striking blue eyes that seemed to mirror Cersei's. The owner of those eyes glanced back at him but turned away quickly, as though their contact had scorched her. Jaime's brows furrowed as he observed the princess's cheeks flush with embarrassment while she whispered to a companion seated beside her. He couldn't help but smile and shake his head in response.

"She's grown to look so much like Cersei," he mused, a hint of bitterness in his smile.

It had been some time since he had accompanied her; he hadn't realized he would miss the familiarity of their companionship. He had been her constant shadow for the past years, always one step behind her. He contemplated her as he heard stories about how she diligently performed her duties and responsibilities. In his heart, Jaime believed that Argella Baratheon had the qualities that Cersei and Robert lacked to be a worthy Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. He even envisioned himself serving her.

Though he admitted it silently, he knew he could never utter such words. The truth of her suitability for the throne was a dangerous secret that must remain locked within him. To speak it aloud would be to court disaster for him, his sister, and her younger children.

Jaime's search for Robert amidst the festivities on the dais left him frowning deeply as he noticed the king's transformation. The Robert who had once been a triumphant hero, overthrowing a three-hundred-year-old dynasty and establishing his own rule, had turned into a hollow shell of the man he had heard about in songs. Jaime's disgust for Robert's treatment of Cersei during their long separation was palpable.

Once again, his gaze was ensnared by Argella's penetrating eyes. This time, she didn't shy away; her expression was a mix of fear and sadness, even if he couldn't quite discern the depths of her emotions. He could almost envision her fingers fidgeting nervously in her lap, and his heart began to race in response. Had he somehow caused her distress? The hammering in his chest grew louder, and the idea that he might be the cause of her worries felt like a knife twisted mercilessly in his heart.

Jaime pushed aside his unease and offered the princess a small, reassuring smile. In return, she adjusted in her seat and managed a small, sad smile in response. He disliked seeing her like this; he knew her as confident and strong as a Lannister. Not even Tywin Lannister could rattle Argella Baratheon. What could be troubling her now? His hand itched, yearning to understand, to unravel the mystery surrounding her.

He might have been tempted to climb the dais and approach her if not for Robert's sudden interruption, halting the festivities with resounding booms.
As the room fell into silence, Jaime's thoughts raced.

"Come forward, girl!"

"It's your nameday, my love. I swear that whatever you ask of me, within my power, you shall have," Robert declared.

"You honor me, Your Grace. I have but one wish on this special occasion."

"What is it, child?" the king inquired.

"I wish to wed Ser Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock."

The room fell into a stunned silence, and Jaime shifted uncomfortably on the spot. He didn't know how to react or what to feel. His mouth opened and closed, as if struggling to form words, and he couldn't believe what he had just heard. Had he suddenly gone deaf?

"What did you say?" Robert's voice dripped with threat.

Jaime felt the weight of his king's piercing gaze for a brief moment before he turned to look at his daughter.

"I wish to wed Ser Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock, Your Grace," the princess repeated, her resolve unwavering.

Jaime's mind raced. He was in deep trouble. Where had this come from? What was she saying? He wanted to shout, but he bit down on his tongue so hard it drew blood. Speaking out now could cost him his head, especially with Robert looking at him as though he held the strings that compelled his daughter to utter such words. He and Robert were in the same boat, equally clueless about this situation.

Cersei's honeyed voice, laced with poison, cut through the tension. "May I remind you, child, that Ser Jaime, your uncle and my brother, is a member of the Kingsguard, sworn to own no lands, take no wife, and bear no children for as long as he lives."

"Oh," Robert dismissed Cersei's words with a wave, "the Kingslayer has forsaken every oath he took since he plunged his sword into Aerys's back."

Cersei couldn't believe what was unfolding before her and voiced her disbelief, momentarily casting a glance at Jaime, who was staring at his boots in silent turmoil.

Robert, however, paid her no heed. His attention remained fixed on his favored daughter.

"Is this truly what you desire, Ella?"

"Yes, Father," the princess replied, her voice filled with conviction. "It is the only thing that I've ever wanted."

"So be it" Robert sighed in defeat, "Kingslayer!" He called once more.

Jaime took shaky steps forward, dropping to one knee.

"I, Robert of House Baratheon, the First of My Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, release you from your oath as a member of the Kingsguard. Surrender your cloak, Ser Jaime of House Lannister."

Jaime was frozen in place, unable to move. It was as if the weight of the world had descended upon him, crushing him. He wished the ceiling would collapse and end his torment.

"Are you defying my command, Kingslayer?" Robert's voice was thunderous. "Selmy, help Ser Jaime out of his white cloak; he won't be needing it anymore."

Jaime abruptly stood up before Barristan could intervene, unclasping his Kingsguard cloak and tossing it at Robert's feet.

"Your Grace," he said, bowing before the king, then retreated a few steps, walking purposefully toward the doors, his heart heavy with uncertainty.