[b][u]Lord John Stark of Winterfell[/u][/b]

John's horse trotted along the cobblestone streets of the capital of Westeros, King's Landing, his family's 
carriage following behind. His sword was at his hip and his eyes were on road in front of him. They were approaching the famed Red Keep, the stronghold that two hundred years ago, had been taken back by Daenarys Targaryen. 

Finally, John reached the castle and was welcomed into the courtyard. He dismounted his horse which was lead away to the stables. His mother came out of the carriage, the northern-born woman turning her nose up at the salty smell of sea air. He walked with her into the castle where servants greeted them and led them to their luxurious quarters with promises of their belongings being delivered later in the day. 

The whole of the kingdom was in King's Landing. And most of the highborn lords and ladies would be staying for the next few weeks. John's friend, and the new king, Daeron Targaryen, would have his coronation tomorrow. To celebrate the young dragon was holding a large festival. Feasts every night, a tourney with the promise of knighthood awaiting the winner, and a carnival on top of that, filled with entertainers from across the Narrow Sea. John was taken aback by the extravagance that he saw from his balcony. He was a long way from home.