Argella

VI. Royal Celebrations

Argella Baratheon sat in the center of her sewing circle, surrounded by her ladies. The room was alive with the gentle rustling of fabric and soft conversation as they worked diligently on their sewing projects. It had been three days since Ser Arys Oakheart, a member of the King's Guard, had been appointed as her protector, courtesy of her lord father. His presence had become a familiar sight, a constant companion.

The peaceful atmosphere was suddenly interrupted by a distinct knock on her chamber door, followed by the deep voice of Ser Arys Oakheart.

"It's Lord Petyr Baelish, your highness," he announced.

Argella furrowed her brows as she repeated the name to herself, as if trying to make sense of this unfamiliar figure. Lord Petyr Baelish was a name she had encountered only recently as she tried to catch up on the complex happenings of her father's court, particularly the workings of his small council. The name still felt foreign and enigmatic, much like the intricate web of politics and intrigue that had overtaken King's Landing. Nevertheless, she put aside her sewing work and rose from her seat, her ladies following suit.

"Send him in, Ser," Argella instructed.

The door swung open, revealing a man dressed in unassuming black attire. Her keen eyes searched for any clues that might unveil the identity and intentions of this man. The only distinctive feature she found was a mockingbird pin adorning his lapel, which only served to deepen her intrigue and perplexity.

"Princess," the man greeted with a bow, a hint of mischief and danger flickering in his eyes.

"Lord Baelish," Argella replied with a guarded tone. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I must insist that the pleasure is mine, princess," Lord Baelish responded smoothly. "The king has sent me to escort you to the small council meeting."

Argella's surprise was evident. Her father's presence at a small council meeting was a rare occurrence. In all her years, she had never heard of the king attending such gatherings. This was a highly unusual turn of events.

"Yes, your highness," Lord Baelish confirmed. "I believe he wishes to discuss the celebration for your upcoming nameday and hear your thoughts."

Argella pondered the situation and decided to oblige. "Very well, best not to keep the king waiting."

Taking Lord Baelish's proffered arm, she instructed her ladies to stay and continue their work. As they left the room, Ser Arys Oakheart followed closely, maintaining a watchful distance.

During their journey to the small council meeting, Argella saw an opportunity to learn more about the enigmatic lord by her side. "I must ask, Lord Baelish, what is your role in my father's council?"

"I am his master of coin, princess," Lord Baelish replied. "If the king requires gold, I am the one who provides it."

Argella's curiosity was piqued. "And how do you manage to do that?"

"Through taxation, princess, from the land the smallfolk stand on to the very air they breathe. We also borrow from other noble Houses when necessary."

Argella probed further. "Have you borrowed from Lord Tywin Lannister?"

"We have indeed," Lord Baelish confirmed. "He is a generous benefactor to your father, paying to put one's blood on the iron throne is an expensive venture as you can see."

Argella's eyes widened with astonishment. "And how much does that cost?"

"Three million golden dragons, and more," Lord Baelish revealed.

Argella was taken aback. "So you are saying that the crown is three million gold in debt?"

"Indeed," he affirmed.

Argella couldn't help but feel a mix of astonishment and concern. "How did this come to be?"

A sly smile played on Lord Baelish's lips. "This is a time of peace and the king indulges in feasts, hunts, and tourneys, to celebrate that princess. The expense of such events can be quite substantial."

Lord Baelish's eyes sparkled with interest as he took on Argella's troubled face.

"I must say, Princess, I never expected you to be interested in the matters of the realm. Perhaps the influence of Lord Tywin has rubbed off on you. You seemed prepared for a future in ruling."

Argella sensed a trap and decided to tread carefully. She veered the conversation away from the crown's debt and offered an innocent smile. "Ruling? I am but a woman, my lord."

Lord Baelish continued to probe. "There must be a reason for your his efforts, don't you think?"

Their journey led them to a grand double door, and Ser Arys Oakheart announced their arrival. King Robert Baratheon stood inside, grinning at his beloved daughter.

"Ella!"

Argella smiled with caution as she stepped into her father's presence. "Father," she greeted him with warmth.

"Come, child," King Robert Baratheon beckoned, his face radiant with excitement. "I want to inform you about my grand plans for your upcoming nameday celebration."

Argella's brow furrowed slightly. "I appreciate the thought, father, but I don't wish for it to be grand."

Her father, however, waved away her concerns. "Nonsense!" he declared. "We shall have a celebration worthy of a Baratheon! Seven days of feasting and a grand tourney. Thirty thousand golden dragons for the champion..." And the list of extravagant plans went on and on.

As she sat beside her father, Argella couldn't help but feel the weight of his expectations. A lavish celebration meant exorbitant expenses, and she was well aware that the crown was already three million gold in debt, as Lord Baelish had revealed.

Noticing her father's commitment to the extravagant plans, Argella remained silent and tried not to show her concerns.

When the small council meeting finally ended, Grand Maester Pycelle approached her, bearing a letter with a seal that she would recognize anywhere.

"A letter from Lord Tywin, Princess," he informed her.

Argella thanked him in a hushed tone and eagerly opened the envelope to read its contents.

"Our plans will begin today," it said.