By the time we arrive in King's Landing, Peeta has woken and he seems healthy enough. His bleeding has stopped and Bran has taken him to a healer, or as they say in Westeros, 'Maester.' I'm somewhat resentful towards Bran for bringing us here, when we should be in Panem, District 2, but Bran insisted and said that this was part of the plan. Bran had told me there is something here that Jon wished for me to see. Bran takes us through the cobbled streets of King's Landing, and it's odd how they call this place the Capitol. I follow Bran who levitates, but no one can tell because it looks like he's just walking swiftly. Peeta locks his fingers in mine and I am determined not to let go. Arya trails behind us, all gloomy and forlorn. She has been complaining about wanting to go home, and how much she loathes this place since this is where her father died. As much as I want to hate this place, it's rather beautiful. There are markets in the streets with people selling sweet fruit like pomegranates, mangos, grapes, and so on. It brightens up the place, and the sun looms over us all smiling and joyful. I see a substantial castle in the distance and Bran claims it to be the place where royalty lives. He's unsure as to who is on the throne now, and he himself has never been in King's Landing before. Jon gave Bran vague directions to the place he wanted me to go. What he wanted me to see neither I nor Bran know, but I'm eager to find out.
"Ahh, here it is," Bran says, with some recognition. He has lead us into a grimy looking place, filled with damp mud and colourless grass. The buildings are of wood and not all of them are whole. "This is where they treat the horses," Bran says. I release that I might be stepping in a pile of horseshit but I dismiss the thought. We halt at one stable, where the are several stable boys attending to horses. I can smell the rich aroma of faeces and hear the humming of flies. But with that smell is something unusual and external. A stench that should not belong here, among the shit and dirt. It is a delightful fragrance to most, but for me it is more sickening than horse waste. It is the smell of a fresh rose melded with blood. A flicker of white is caught from the corner of my eyes and I am terrified to turn my head. And then I see him. I am staring into the snake-like eyes of President Snow.