Chapter 4

Kingsroad

Gendry's eyes did a quick scan of the enemies as he had one hand tightly clutched around his hammer and the other holding Mira's wrist. There many of them, and his heart sunk as more slid from the shadows of the trees. They were poorly outnumbered. But he knew his men would stand their ground and fight for their last breath, and so would be. As long as Mira was safe.

"Well look what we have here," one of them, a tall man with wild dark hair and a long, scraggly beard stepped forward, a deadly sneer on his face. "Shame you have to die so far from home."

"They've got a girl with them," another one says, and Gendry's grip on his daughter tightens.

"Aye, she's a pretty one."

The circle around them gets smaller as they close in. Gendry spots a potential opening if he can take out the two on the left.

"Kill them all and take the girl," the tall one whom Gendry assumes to be their leader commands his tribe.

"NOW!" Gendry yells to his own men, and chaos erupts.

Gendry swings his hammer with surprising force and can feel the crushing impact of bone as it connects with someone's skull.

"MIRA, RUN!" Gendry screams as another enemy comes rushing at him with a battle cry.

Mira is terrified and her feet almost forget to function. She feels a sharp nudge in her side and turns to see her father's face, his eyes reflecting her own fear. Fear not for his life, but hers.

"Go!" he tells her, swinging his heavy hammer like it weighs nothing. She watches it connect with it's target and she shrieks as warm blood splatters her face. Finally, her feet get moving, and she's running. Running like she never has in her life. Her heart pounds so hard it threatens to burst from her chest and she dares not to look behind her.

Yells and clash of steel can be heard, and the blood pounds in Gendry's ears as he turns to a warrior slinging a mace at him. He narrowly avoids it with a duck and retaliates by slamming his hammer into his chest. He can hear his chest wall crack as blood spurts from his mouth, and he falls to his knees. Gendry quickly looks to see if Mira got away. Through the thick of the fighting he catches a glimpse of her dark hair and he prays to the Gods she gets as far away as possible.

He takes down another warrior, blood and sweat dripping into his eyes. But there are too many. And he's lost plenty of his men already. He watches in horror as Embry suffers a violent blow from a battle axe, nearly splitting him in two. The one wielding it, the leader, yanks the axe from Embry's torso and turns his attention to Gendry, a murderous look on his face.

Anger makes his blood boil. Embry was still a young lad, and fiercely loyal. Gendry let out a furious yell and charged for their leader. He suddenly felt something sharp graze his shoulder and he lost his footing. The wound from his shoulder burned and he could feel hot sticky blood welling up beneath his armor. He struggled to get to his feet and saw the leader with the battle axe coming straight for him, with the intent to finish him off. He closed his eyes, thinking of his family. Of Sansa. And he waited for death.

…..

The horrific sounds of battle rang in Mira's ears as she ran. She could hear the voices of many men dying, their screams piercing her heart. And all she could think was how much of a coward she was being for leaving them to die.

She slowed her pace and looked behind her. Countless bodies littered the ground, most of them belonging to her House. There was no way they were going to survive this. She desperately looked for her father, her heart thumping when finally she saw him.

He was still fighting valiantly, but she could tell he was tiring and wouldn't be able to carry on much longer. She couldn't just leave him!

The moment she made the decision she knew it was a stupid one. But before she could talk herself out of it her feet were leading her in the opposite direction, back to the battle. Possibly to her death. What could a young maiden like herself hope to do? She, who had never even seen a battle before? She did not know, but she did know she had to do something.

Fear gripped her and all her instincts screamed at her, but she kept running. Just as she reached the clearing she skidded to a stop, narrowly missing an arrow that shot right past her. But she could see the arrow was not aimed for her. She watched in horror as her father fell to the ground, clutching at his shoulder. She turned and saw the one who fired the arrow, he was loading his bow and preparing to fire again, this time not intending to miss.

"NO!" Mira rushed forward, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she lunged at him, latching herself onto his back.

She could tell she caught him entirely by surprise as he dropped his bow and let out a startled grunt. She dug her fingernails into his face, feeling herself draw blood as the man yelled in frustration and pain and attempted to yank her off his back.

She had caused a momentary distraction between the two warriors coming to finish Gendry off. Long enough for him to get his bearings and aim a precise swing at the one nearest him. The man fell, but was still alive. With a yell of exertion, Gendry raised his hammer and brought it down over his face, watching it cave in, blood and bits of brain splattering against the ground.

His eyes searched for Mira, his chest heaving. He saw her, straddled to a man's back, clawing at his face like a wild animal as he tried to throw her off. Why had she not listened to him? Why did she come back? He knew why. She was a Stark. A wolf. And wolves didn't abandon the pack. He didn't know whether to be furious or proud.

"Gerr off me, you stupid bitch!" the man grunted, reaching behind him to grab a fistful of Mira's hair. She whimpered in pain as he yanked her from his back by the hair and dropped her to the ground, knocking the wind from her lungs.

Gendry didn't waste any time when he saw his daughter hit the ground. His bones and muscles ached, and his shoulder still stung from his wound but he mustered all he had to run to her. He didn't make it.

He felt another arrow pierce him from behind, inches from his heart. Fire burned at the wound, and agony seized him as he fell to his knees. "Mira…" he rasped, struggling to get to his feet. He felt hands grab him and yank him up.

"Hold him!" a harsh voice barked, and he traced it to the man leading them, with the axe. "Make him watch!"

No! No no no...please, let her go! He was too weak to even utter the words.

Mira screamed and kicked as hands ripped at her dress, tearing it. Men yelled raucously, goading her attacker on. Hands invaded, touched where they weren't wanted. She couldn't even see who was assaulting her because her eyes were screwed shut. All she could do was pray to the Gods. Pray that they killed her after so she wouldn't have to live with the filthy stain they were about leave on her innocence.

Suddenly she felt a heavy weight cover her body and it took a moment to realize that the body wasn't moving. There were no hands grabbing at her now. She dared to open her eyes and saw the man lying on her, his eyes open but lifeless, a trickle of blood at the corner of his twisted mouth. He was dead. She could see the dagger plunged in his back.

No one was fighting now. No one made a sound. Everyone stood, looking at something she couldn't see. She shoved the dead body off her and scurried away, shuddering. Heavy boots approached her and she looked up into strangely familiar ice blue eyes. He was tall, and handsome. He had curly black hair, and almost reminded her of her oldest brother. Rodrick. Who was this man?

He knelt down before her and offered his hand, his face strangely kind. Mira hesitated, still frozen in fear despite the odd familiarity coming from him. Had they met before?

"You don't need to be afraid of me," he assured her in a rich, deep voice.

And for some strange reason, she believed him. She slowly reached for his hand, and he helped her up, his blue eyes which were so much like her own, never leaving her face. He seemed to be just as bewildered as she, his eyes taking in her features, his brows knit together. "Who are you?" he asked, so quietly Mira wondered if he had even meant to say it aloud.

She decided to answer anyway. "M-Mira Stark."

He continued to stare at her. She was starting to feel a little uncomfortable under his unwavering gaze. Finally he spoke. "Mira Stark." He dragged her name out on his lips. "Starks of Winterfell?"

"Y-yes," she breathed.

Gendry had been watching the exchange, his whole body on edge. The two men still held him, and he knew he was too weak to fight them off now if he tried. A few of his men were still alive, but badly wounded. This man who came out of nowhere and killed Mira's attacker, may have just saved them all. But he quickly realized that despite this, the bear pelt and armor made of bone gave him away as one of them. Not just one of them, this man was their leader.

"Get away from her!" Gendry found his voice again, though it was weak.

The man's ice blue gaze fell on him, and any kindness that had been on his face vanished. He almost seemed to remember himself, and a twisted smirk spread across his lips.

"Ah!" he stepped away from Mira and began to approach Gendry. "You must be Gendry, Lord of Winterfell." He pauses in front of Gendry and studies him, his eyes glinting. "You know, I could've sworn you were a bastard once, as you folk call it. Never received a formal education like you cousin fuckers that live in your fancy castles. But you do hear things."

Gendry holds his head high, his body weak but his will as strong as ever. "I don't give a fuck about what you've heard."

His head snaps to the side as the man's fist connects with his face. Pain nearly blinds him, and he spits out a mouthful of blood. The man gets down in Gendry's face and forces him to look at him.

"You should watch your foul mouth, Crow," he warns, calling him what the freefolk call anyone outside their own. He pulls out another dagger from his belt and holds it to Gendry's mouth. "Or I shall make sure you never speak again." His eyes gleam with a pure sadism that makes Gendry's skin crawl.

"Please, don't hurt him!" Mira pleads.

The man doesn't take his eyes from Gendry, but he can tell that Mira's voice got through to him. He releases Gendry and straightens up.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced! How rude of me. I am Roric of Ash. And these are my people. And this," he makes a wide gesture around them. "Is my land."

"This is not your land," Gendry retorts, and Mira wishes he would just keep quiet. Maybe this...Roric will allow them to leave with their lives.

"Oh but it is, you see. The soil you're standing on has always belonged to my people. Your kind stole it from us. And we will take it back."

"You can try."

Roric looks at Gendry like he might strike him again, and Gendry waits for the blow. But it doesn't come. Instead, Roric starts to laugh. His men laugh with him.

"The problem with you crows, is you're too fucking proud," Roric says, his face turning serious again. "That or just stupid. Either way, it'll get you killed like it has so many before you. Squabbling amongst yourselves when you could be free. No matter." Roric lets out a long sigh and turns away from him. "Let them go."

His men look at him incredulously. "Let them go? Why should we let these weasels live?"

"Because I said so," Roric turns a dangerous glare at the one dared to question him. The man holding Gendry was twice Roric's size, yet he seemed to cower beneath his gaze and vigorously nodded. Roric's eyes wander over him and fixate onto the wagon full of weapons. Gendry had almost forgotten about them. "What're you carrying with you?" he asks.

Gendry doesn't answer right away. One of Roric's men hits him hard in the back of the head. "Roric asked you a question, Crow!"

"Weapons!" Gendry relents, blinking stars out of his eyes. "We...we were carrying weapons to King's Landing."

This seems to interest Roric. "Let them live, but take what they have. Tell your queen why you're arriving empty handed. You tell her, that Roric of Ash let you escape with your life."

…

Roric watched the bedraggled group trudge off along the Kingsroad, his mind racing. That girl...something about her struck him as familiar. Had that been the reason he'd chosen to save her and allow them to go free? Or had it been her bravery? He did not know, but he knew the face of Mira Stark would linger in his mind for quite some time.

…

King's Landing

Daenerys found herself spending a lot of her time in the garden. The scents of the freshly blooming flowers seemed to ease her troubled thoughts. And time away from the castle and her duties was much needed as well. She just couldn't seem to focus on anything properly after her conversation with Maester Tarly.

The God of Beasts was a dragon? And not just a dragon, but the dragon. It was difficult for Daenerys to fathom, that her three beloved children with scales could be descended from such evil. Never had she ever contemplated how to kill a dragon. She had always thought them invulnerable. Until she'd lost two of her children to the Night King years ago. Her heart ached at the memory.

She knew now that dragons weren't invincible, that they could be killed. But she would never in a million years have thought that she herself would need to find a way to kill them. Could it be done? How? This...Alduin wasn't just a dragon, he was a God. How does one kill a God?

More importantly, did she even choose to believe this nonsense? Melisandre had been wrong before, many times actually. And prophecies are never so cut and dry. Could she afford to waste time musing over stories and legends? Everyone had thought white walkers had been stories and legends...the death of two of her dragons was a constant reminder that wasn't the case.

She had no more time to make sense of her troubled thoughts, when she caught sight of her daughter, Katarina knelt among the azalea bushes.

"Katarina, darling," Daenerys called out to her. "What are you doing?"

Katarina stood up, holding a woven basket full of an assortment of flowers. "Picking fresh flowers for the infirmary. It's so dreary in there. Perhaps a bit of spring will raise their spirits."

Daenerys smiled at her beautiful daughter. She had long, black hair like Jon, his Stark genes very strong in their children. But Katarina's eyes were a brilliant violet like so many Targaryens before her.

"You have a gentle heart, my love," Daenerys told her, reaching forward to brush her fingers delicately over Katarina's cheek.

Katarina smiled back, but her smile faltered as she really looked at her mother, seeing the sadness in her eyes. "Mother, is something wrong?"

Daenerys faltered, but quickly straightened her spine with regal poise. "Nothing you need worry yourself over, Katarina. I am fine."

Katarina wasn't sure she believed her, but she knew being queen was a huge responsibility. Her mother was probably feeling the weight of it. How lonely it must be sometimes, even when surrounded by family and subjects that love you.

A loud screech came in the distance, and both Targaryens looked to the sky in time to see a flash of black and red soar past. Katarina hurried to the edge of the balcony, her eyes straining to see. Daenerys smiled softly and followed more slowly, her silver hair whipping over her shoulders by the strong gust of wind Drogon's mighty wings sent their way.

"He's so big!" Katarina gasped in awe.

"It is said that dragons keep growing until they die," Daenerys explained, coming to stand next to her at the balcony. "The largest was Balerion, known as the Black Dread. Your ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror rode him into many battles for Westeros."

"What happened to Balerion?" Katarina asked.

"According to history, he lived to be two hundred years old before he died of old age."

Katarina's violet eyes widened. "You think Drogon will live to be that old?"

Daenerys watched her only living dragon child circle the sky, his cries music to her ears. "I do hope so, my sweet child. He's the only one left of his kind now." Her mind went to the prophecy again, of the father of dragons returning to the world of the living, and a chill swept down her spine. If the God of Beasts was really coming to swallow the world whole, did any of them truly stand a chance?

"Your Grace?" the silky voice of Lord Varys breaks into Dany's thoughts as she turns to him. He dips his head respectfully to her, his hands forever buried in the long sleeves of his golden robes. "Pardon, your Grace. But there is urgent business that requires your attention."

"Very well," Daenerys sighs. She looks once more at Drogon, then to her daughter, still watching the sky. "Coming, Katarina?"

"I'll stay a bit longer. I like to watch him fly."

Daenerys smoothed her black curls down with a tender smile. Then she collected herself and turned to follow Lord Varys back toward the castle.

…..

"So there really is only one dragon left in the world?" Freya, a scarlet headed whore trails her finger along Alexander's bare chest.

"People thought dragons were gone forever," he says, his breath hitching as another one, this one's name which seems to have escaped him-she's got nice tits though-licks at his earlobe. "But your queen came in possession of the first three in thousands of years. People say there are still dragon eggs scattered in the world, turned to stone with age."

"Is it true only Targaryens can bond with dragons?" Freya asks.

"Have you ever tried to bond with one?" Alexander quips, taking one of her nipples into his mouth. She lets out a tiny squeak at the contact. "Enough talking...your prince commands you to do what he's paying you for."

The girls giggle and obey, as one climbs on top of him and the other starts kissing his neck.

…..

It is almost sundown by the time Alexander emerges from the brothel, feeling satisfied and in great need of a drink. Before he can head for the local tavern, he spots his older brother Eddard walking swiftly toward him, a very disapproving look on his face.

"What do you think you're doing?" Eddard scolds him.

"You have eyes, don't you?" Alexander chuckles, and his brother is not amused.

"You are not behaving like a prince!"

"How should I behave? Shall I be serious and boring like you? Brother, you need to loosen up, a bit. Come have a drink with me."

"I have duties to attend to," Eddard says flatly. "The small council is gathering. I'm to be there."

"Suit yourself," Alexander shrugs. He claps a hand on Eddard's shoulder and shoves off. "Don't wait up!"

Eddard shakes his head. Alexander is so frustrating! His brother has never cared much for duty and responsibility. All he seems to care for is women and drinking. They were brothers, but they really were nothing alike.

The sound of a bush rustling caught Eddard's attention and he turned, seeing nothing. He was about to leave when he heard giggling. Rolling his eyes, he approached the bush and grabbed his two youngest brothers by their collars.

"What are you two doing away from the castle!" Eddard scolded them.

Kaiden and Caius laughed and tried to wrestle with Eddard, who despite his annoyance, couldn't help but crack a smirk.

"Alright, alright! Enough. Lucius!" Eddard called to one of the nearby guards. "Make sure these two get back to the castle. And that they stay there." He cast a stern glance at his brothers.

"Yes, your Highness."

…

King's Landing-Great Hall

The doors swung open and Prince Eddard strode into the hall to see that the entire council had already gathered. Daenerys sat at the head of the table with Jon and Tyrion on either side of her. Lord Varys, Davos, Melisandre, and Maester Tarly were seated at the table as well. All eyes fell on him expectantly.

"Sorry I'm late," Eddard took his seat next to Davos. "Have I missed anything?"

"No, we waited," Daenerys told him with a knowing glance. "But now we may begin. Lord Tyrion?" She turns to her hand.

Tyrion nods to her and brings up the issue with Dorne.

"They dare to make demands?" Daenerys is displeased.

"More of a request, your Grace," Lord Varys clarifies. "And might I suggest taking it into consideration?"

"And why would I do that?"

"Because Dorne boasts the second largest army in Westeros," Lord Varys reasons. "Many, even your father and his father before him attempted to conquer their lands and not even they were successful."

"My father and his father before him didn't have a dragon," Daenerys points out. "Dragons had been long thought extinct by their time. Perhaps if they had, things would be different."

Jon cast a weary glance at his wife. Daenerys was known to have a temper, and many feared her. Jon had a much sounder mind, and did not wish to see any more blood shed than was necessary.

"We need to tread carefully," he spoke softly to her. "We don't want the Dornish as our enemy. And we don't need another futile war at our doorstep."

"It is not war I want, either," Daenerys snapped. "But if we grant them this request, how many more requests will they make after that? How long before all the kingdoms start making requests? We may as well open our gates and allow them all to come in and rule!"

"You make a very good point, my Queen," Tyrion interjects with a nod toward Daenerys. "We cannot afford to show weakness. However, I also believe in picking our battles. Grant them this small request. Keep the peace. Let us not go to war over something so trivial. I'd like to point out that there are still those in Westeros who despise you and your family. Some even say you're worse than Cersei-"

"Careful, Lord Tyrion," Daenerys warns, and he dips head to her again.

"I mean no disrespect, your Grace," he continues wearily. "I am only presenting you with facts. We chose you to lead us because we believe in you, and Westeros has indeed flourished under your rule. No one is denying that. But to say that there won't ever be those who oppose the crown or wish to see you fall is naive thinking."

Daenerys is quiet for a moment, pondering his words. She seems to see the truth in them, and lets out a deep sigh. "You're right. There will always be those who hate me and my family. Hate what I am, hate my decisions. But that is not the sole consequence of having my father's name. Many of those who knew him are dead. That is the consequence of being Queen. It is...impossible to please everyone. But," she holds up a finger as Tyrion gets ready to open his mouth in protest. "It is something I must try, if we intend to keep the peace. So I will grant them their...request."

A weight seems to lift from around the table, as everyone relaxes.

"That is very gracious of you," Lord Varys tells her.

"I'm not being gracious," Daenerys speaks with cold steel in her voice. She looks at Tyrion and the hint of a smile teases at her lips. "I am being smart." Tyrion meets her gaze, and she can see pride in his green eyes. She cleares her throat. "Is there anything else?"

"Actually, yes." Davos casts a serious look at Jon before continuing. "A raven from Casterly Rock this morning. Jaime Lannister speaks of possible trouble between the Freys and the Starks."

Jon shifts in his seat, obviously trying to hide his discomfort.

"The Starks and the Freys have been feuding for years, what of it?" Lord Tyrion questions.

Davos picks up the scroll and clears his throat. "According to this, the Freys speak direct threats against Arya Stark. They talk of killing her."

This really gets Jon's attention. He reaches forward and snatches the scroll from Davos. He reads over it as Daenerys watches him carefully.

"No one has seen Arya Stark in years," Sam points out. "Why, they'll never find her!"

Jon crumples the parchment, his teeth grinding. "If they harm her…"

"No harm will come to her, I assure you," Tyrion says. "If anything this serves as warning of war that could break out between the two houses."

"I won't let that happen," says Daenerys, fire in her eyes. "If I have to send my dragon as warning to them-"

"No." Jon stands, his face cold. "We will send the message with words, not dragonfire. As Lord Tyrion has correctly pointed out, there is much unrest in Westeros. People already fear you, we can diffuse this situation without Drogon."

Daenerys nods in agreement and Jon continues. "I will warn them with words, and if they choose to disobey a direct order from the crown, then they will live to regret that they did. Also, I will demand that Ludd Frey deal with the men who threaten my sister, or I will call for their heads myself."

No one in the room dare question Jon as his inner wolf emerges through in his words. He was a reasonable man, and violence was only a last resort to him. But if anyone threatened his family, then that person would not live to see the dawn.

Jon looks at his son, who had been listening intently. "How goes the training of our men?"

"They are learning quickly," Eddard responds.

"Good." Jon narrows his eyes. "I expect we'll need our armies stronger than ever."

…..

The North

Rodrick adjusted the dead boar over his shoulder with a grunt as he hoisted the big beast atop his horse. It had been good hunting, and the time away from home had done him some good. There was nothing like the calm of the forest, the whispers of the trees, the trickle of the stream. The thrill of the hunt. It was like his own religion.

The sound of hooves pounding toward him alerted his senses, and his hand went instinctively for his sword. But he quickly recognized the rider as one of his own, skidding to a stop in front of him. Judging by the blood and dirt Odmund was covered in, Rodrick knew something was wrong. His heart sank.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"Lord Gendry sent me back, my Lord," Odmund panted. "We were ambushed. By the Hill tribes."

"What of my father and Mira?"

"Both alive, my Lord. They continue on to King's Landing."

Rodrick let out the breath he'd been holding. Thank the Gods.

….

Winterfell-Godswood

In the clearing, the three youngest Stark children banter among the ancient weirwood trees. Ethan grabs ahold of a low branch and pulls himself up into the tree.

"You're going to hurt yourself!" Talia warns him from below.

"I won't!" Ethan calls back down to her, reaching up for another branch. He was always climbing things-trees, buildings. Sansa liked to tell him he was just like her brother, Bran.

Ryon out stretched his arms and started to creep toward Talia, pretending to be a white walker. "Flesh...flesh...I need...flesh!" he grabbed her and she laughed, tugging him away from her playfully.

"Stop it, it's not a joke!" she scolds him, though with a grin. "The white walkers were real. They were here. Many people died fighting them."

"Like our uncle Bran," Ethan adds, his voice sounding far away in the tree. He sits perched on a sturdy branch and looks to the darkening sky. "He used his powers to warg inside one of the queen's dragons to fight the Night King." A somber look falls across his face. "And he died. Right here beneath this tree."

Talia wishes she could've met their uncle Bran. Sansa speaks so much of him, how brave he was. How he gave his life to protect them. So that they could have the life they enjoy now. Free.

"Do you think they'll ever come back?" Ryon asks, his eyes wide in fear.

"The white walkers?" Talia shakes her head. "No, they all perished with the Night King's defeat. We're safe now. No one will ever hurt us. What's our family motto?"

"The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives," Ethan and Ryon say in unison. So many of their family have died, but there would always be a Stark in Winterfell.

…..

King's Landing

Jon stood on the balcony overlooking the crowded city. Over a million people lived here. He had once questioned why anyone would ever want to live this way, yet here he was. The Northern Fool. He smiled to himself. He'd follow Daenerys to the end of the world.

His thoughts wandered to Arya. He hadn't seen her in so long and he deeply missed her. And worried about her. He knew he shouldn't though, because Arya could take care of herself. Still, he wished she'd come home where she belongs.

He felt arms wrap around him and he instantly warmed to her touch, the smell of her perfume overtaking his senses. Daenerys rested her cheek against his back.

"You're worried about her, aren't you?" she asked knowingly.

"Always," sighed Jon.

"She's safe, wherever she is," Daenerys spoke with certainty. "And probably happy. She always struck me as a free spirit."

"You're not wrong." Jon turns around in Dany's arms and rests his forehead against hers. "In truth, I worry about all of us. Especially you."

"Me?" She looks up at him with her violet eyes that still light a fire deep within him after all these years. "You don't need to worry about me."

"And you don't need to lie to me," Jon rests his hand on her cheek. "I know something's been bothering you."

His eyes search hers, and there are so many words lost on her lips. Many things do trouble the queen, many things that cause turmoil within her. But she can't bring herself to tell him about it, not yet. She doesn't want to ruin the precious moment between them, of them just holding each other. She lives for these moments, and everything bad slips away like vapor.

So she just silently shakes her head and leans up on her tiptoes to kiss him. Jon knows his wife well, and knows she is avoiding the issue and attempting to distract him. But Gods, it is working. Daenerys Targaryen would always be his one weakness.

A/N Whew! Long ass chapter. My wrist hurts haha. But hope you guys are liking it, and please let me know your thoughts, suggestions, or things you'd like to see! Until next time, friends!