As summer is officially underway and the Ashes kick off… I want to congratulate the few dozen readers from Australia already on their victory against my England team.

This story however is going full pelt into Winter. The King's Landing parts of chapter would be around 7x04 or 7x05 in the timeline. The second half of the year, but with enough still to happen before I tick it over into Season 8.

I've also seen that now this will become my longest story. With 11 chapters remaining, it should fly past Black Wolf Reborn comfortably. I never expected that when I first started out with a vision of a Targaryen at the head of an armada, but this story has grown so much since I started, I'm a little sad it's coming to an end but I cannot wait to get there.

I own nothing but the OC's. The actual characters and locations from A Song of Ice and Fire or Game of Thrones are the property of George R R Martin or HBO.

With Luke preoccupied by the birth of his daughter, Dany had needed to swallow her anger at the entire situation she found herself in at King's Landing and rule in his place. Once the Tyrell soldiers had all been imprisoned and catalogued her thoughts had moved to releasing the other imprisoned guests such as Prince Oberyn and the Kingsguard, before she then found time to process the events of the day.

She found herself in the Throne Room on the gallery staring down at the Iron Throne with a sick feeling in her stomach. She had been in this room numerous times, but now she truly realised the lengths that some would go to in order to stop her son from sitting there, whether Daeron grew to want it or not. The thought of her son ached as she longed to return to Dragonstone and away from the pit of vipers that was King's Landing, but she knew the baby was in good hands, whilst Luke needed her here.

The doors opened, and her current Velaryon guard called out. "Queen Margaery is here, Princess."

Scowling, Daenerys made sure to take a deep breath. "Thank you." She called back, and watched from up high as the Tyrell woman stepped into the room gingerly. "You should be abed." Daenerys stated bluntly. "You must recover."

"I should be, but this is more important." Margaery insisted. "I wanted to talk to you…"

"I have nothing to say to you." Daenerys said coldly, her eyes narrowing towards the Tyrell woman. "You know what is at stake… what your Father risked…" Her anger was causing her to stumble over her words. "Luke may want to salvage your relationship, but I have no wish to be included in that."

Margaery nodded. "I understand." She said, oddly calm. "I came to tell you that I'm here to help. With a solution that won't stop the whispers about your bast… about Daeron." Dany could sense the sneer behind the unfinished word. "And hopefully bring back peace to our two families."

Margaery had moved over to lean against the nearest pillar, and Daenerys scoffed quietly before walking down to the main room to be nearer to her. "It's a little late for that, is it not?"

"Varys was a Blackfyre, we can use that. My Father was persuaded to rebel because of the hatred still held for the Black Dragon and Varys used the knowledge of his own family past to stoke the flames once more against Daeron." Margaery began, wincing in pain and discomfort. "So long as you never reveal the truth about who Daeron's father is, not even to Daeron himself, then we can claim Varys' words as lies, used to manipulate my foolish Father."

The plan made sense, but Dany hated it nonetheless. "You would rob my child of his Father, you would rob me of my dignity? Who am I supposed to claim as Daeron's father? What becomes of me?"

"You will never need to marry." Margaery insisted. "It seems harsh, but you would be viewed as spoiled."

"You dare…" Dany snarled, barely holding on to the urge to slap the Tyrell woman.

"I do not mean it badly!" Margaery insisted, holding her hands up to usher in a peace between the two women. "You are in love Luke, it's plain to see. If you claim the father is some lowborn soldier that just died in this battle, then the loud accusations will stop being thrown at you and we can move on, together, in peace. You can stay on Dragonstone with your son, unmarried and not forced to lay with a man you have no interest in popping out children for some lowly House."

"And you keep Luke, here, to yourself." Dany rolled her eyes. "To beg forgiveness and play the loyal, doting wife until he forgives you and you begin whispering your poison into his ear once more."

Margaery had tears forming. "He will never truly forgive me, nor my family." She said softly. "My Father is a dead man, I have accepted that. I will need to stand there, silently at Luke's side as he sentences my Father to death, knowing that he will forever view me with distrust. I can accept that, now I just want the best for us all. I want my son and my daughter safe, I want your son safe, if you can believe it."

"I don't." Dany said coldly.

Margaery sighed audibly. "Well, I do." She stated. Margaery pushed herself upright, and Dany saw closely how much effort she was putting herself through for this conversation. "We may never be friends, Daenerys, but we both love your brother. For his sake I am willing to stop this infighting between us, I hope you can do the same."

Feeling bad for the woman who had just given birth, Daenerys wrapped an arm around the Tyrell for support and began to lead her back to the doors. "Actions speak loudly, Your Grace." Daenerys said in a cold whisper. "Words are wind, and Tyrell words mean little to me now."

The issue of Mace Tyrell was tabled the day after the Targaryen banner had been raised once more over the walls of the Red Keep. Instead of worry about how he was going to deal with the Lord of Highgarden, the first thing Luke had wanted to do after jumping to his freedom and securing his castle was to bid a fitting farewell to the man that had raised him.

It had been over a fortnight since Jon Connington had died and thankfully the body had been completely wrapped by the Silent Sisters. The Targaryen King was still bitter that he hadn't had a chance to say goodbye. Thankfully there were few others there to see the King weep silently as he placed his hand on the covered body of the Stormlander, the wind whipping around them on top of the funeral hill that Targaryen's had used for centuries. Shireen Baratheon had insisted on joining the King, as had Margaery, Lord Velaryon and Daenerys. Ser Barristan was also there with the 5 remaining members of the Kingsguard, 4 of them having been freed from their captivity.

"Thank you." Luke whispered so that nobody could hear. "Thank you for saving me, thank you for raising me. Thank you for helping me restore what we lost." He wiped his eyes. "I am so sorry Jon, I promise you, he will pay for this."

Luke kissed the palm of his hand and placed it gently on the body's midriff, before moving his hands over to grip the pommel of Jon's Valyrian Steel sword, Truth. He picked it up and took a few steps back, looking up at Valaxes at the peak of the hill once before turning to re-join the attendees. As he walked, he pressed the sword into the hands of Ser Barristan. "Keep hold of that, Ser. I will place it in my chest afterwards." Luke stated, intending for the former sword of House Rogare to be gifted to Visenya's future husband to follow her line.

In the near distance stood a pair of red cloaked guards with a prisoner between them. Luke nodded at them from where he stood, and watched silently as they pulled him over towards the pyre and secured him firmly to the wood, his bald head shining in the late autumn sunlight.

Ser Barristan cleared his throat. "Varys, in the name of Lucerys of the House Targaryen. First of his Name. King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, you are hereby sentenced to die."

Varys was gagged so he couldn't say a thing, and Luke glared at the eunuch before he spoke powerfully. "For One Hundred and Thirty-Six years, Daemon Blackfyre and his heirs have plagued this Kingdom, but no more. You will be the last scion of the Black Dragon, and your false whispers will darken the Seven Kingdom's no more." The King looked up at Valaxes. "Dracarys."

Valaxes stood up on his haunches and flapped his wings, before a stream of dark dragon fire burst from his mouth, engulfing the pyre in an instant. Varys' own body was incinerated completely by the blast, and the pyre didn't take much longer to turn the man that had done so much for Luke in the last 22 years to ashes.

"Quick and efficient, just how you'd like it." Luke muttered to his deceased mentor. "Enjoy the Father's Golden Halls, Jon. You've earned them. Say hello to Rhaegar for me."

As he watched the fire burn, he thought back on his earlier memories. His earliest was that of his evil Father, but next he remembered being on the ship with Jon, a scared little 4-year-old. Now he could understand that Jon felt awkward at being charged with his care, but the red-head had taken care of him when he was sea sick nonetheless, rubbing Luke's back and promising him that he would take care of him. It brought a sad smile to the King's face, and he wondered if he could truly carry on without his right hand there by his side.

After the funeral, there were a number of things that needed to be seen to. Firstly Raymund Connington's body was sent back to Griffin's Roost and Ser Barristan was in the process of finding another to fill his White Cloak. The governance of the realm also demanded Luke's attention, as he found himself taking on the job of Hand of the King as well as his own duties. What was keeping him fuelled however, was the imminent arrival from Highgarden.

It was another week later that the horses arrived, and as soon as he was made aware that a party had ridden through the gates Luke had made his way to sit himself on the Iron Throne. The golden carpet was flanked by dozens of armed guards all stood on the black marble, red cloaks on each of them to show their loyalty. His six Kingsguard Knights stood beneath the steps to the Throne, while he himself sat in his armour and the Conqueror's Crown, with Blackfyre unsheathed in his right hand, the point balancing on the floor.

"Ser Loras Tyrell!" The announcer announced once the doors had opened, and he saw his Goodbrother visibly take a nervous glance around the room before regaining his composure and walking down the golden carpet confidently, kneeling quickly once he got to the end of the golden thread.

"My King." Loras stated loudly.

Luke glanced up at the gallery where he saw his wife looking down at the pair of them, worry in her brown eyes. He then returned his attention to Loras. "Rise, Ser." He stated coldly. Loras did exactly that. "Do you know why you are here?"

Loras nodded. "To answer for my Father's treason."

Luke was thankful that Loras was making it easier, and he relaxed his grip on Blackfyre. "Lord Tyrell did decide to murder the Hand of the King and imprison his King based on the falsehoods spun to him by the secret Blackfyre, Varys, with the intent to start a civil war." It had been a plan concocted by Margaery. With the revelation of Varys' heritage and the reputation of Mace Tyrell for being a fool, the Queen had spun a story that would satisfy the realm without causing a prolonged conflict with the Reach, or so she hoped. "Was Highgarden aware of this treason?"

"We were not, Your Grace. Neither myself, nor my Grandmother had any part in his treasons. We tried to stop it, to release you peacefully but he was too far in the Spider's web." Loras explained, bowing his head submissively. "I swear on the Seven, Highgarden had no role in this."

Luke held his questioning gaze at the Knight of Flowers. The story had been the same from both Margaery and Olenna when he had questioned them further so he believed them, especially given the lack of support from the wider Reach, though it would be a long time before he ever trusted a Tyrell again. "This insurrection has done a lot of damage to the relationship between House Targaryen and House Tyrell, damage that saddens me given the love I have for your sister, and the children we bear." Luke stated. "Your Father's trial shall take place on the morrow, Ser Loras. You are permitted to stay in the Red Keep for a week to see your sister and to meet your newborn niece, after the week has passed however, both you and Lady Olenna shall return to Highgarden and not return to the Red Keep unless you are summoned by me."

"Thank you, Your Grace." Loras stated as he bowed, but Luke could hear the frustration hidden in the Tyrell's voice.

Thankfully he knew better than to plead for mercy at that time, and so Luke rose to his feet. "Rooms have been provided for you, Ser Franklyn will escort you." He gestured for the Kingsguard Knight to move. "Supper will be at dusk, you are free to join us."

And so Luke stood there as Ser Franklyn escorted Loras out of the room, followed by the host of Targaryen spearmen that had lined the room. Once they had departed Luke looked back up to Margaery, who simply mouthed 'Thank you' at him.

Sighing, Luke's face held a firm glare. He hadn't done it for peace with his wife, he had done it for peace with the Reach, peace that he was constantly tempted to shatter by burning the entire Reach to cinders despite needing them for the coming battles. Needing to blow off some of the constantly rising steam that he had been feeling for weeks since his imprisonment, Luke turned to the remaining Kingsguard. "It's time to train." He said, eager to fight anything that he could reach.

Jon Snow was always glad of his perceived status whenever it was the time of the week for Robb to hold court. He could watch from afar as the Northerners piled into the castle in their dozens as they all looked for Robb to deal with problems of all kinds, while Jon could remain outside, training the men and ensuring that the castle was well defended against a White Walker attack. On this particular afternoon he was stood on the ramparts of the castle looking out at the mass moats that were being dug all around the castle. Winterfell was a strong fortress with high walls, but Jon had seen the aftermath of the Fist of the First Men, and had heard all about Hardhome. A ditch for kindling other flammable substances was needed.

The air was filled with the hammering of the forge and the sawing of wood. Large scorpions were being built to outfit the walls and the guard towers while big chunks of Dragonglass were being moulded into large arrowheads for those scorpions. Winterfell had become one large production of weaponry of all kinds, a sight that actually warmed Jon's heart and gave him hope that maybe they would survive after all.

He spotted Ygritte down in the courtyard, smiling at how his wife was attempting to teach Sansa how to wield a bow. The pair of red-heads had actually become quite friendly, a fact which surprised almost everybody inside the castle given how different the two women were. Sansa was struggling to shoot accurately, and the sight made Jon reminisce on a morning before everything had fallen apart where Bran was being taught.

Now, his brother… cousin… was constantly in the Godswood, warging into an animal scout or flitting through the past to try and find an edge that would aid them. He scared Jon a little, though his teachings had also began to help both Jon and Robb understand their wolf dreams a little more.

Jon's thoughts were interrupted when he saw Robb striding across the courtyard and speaking to somebody briefly, before a hand was being pointed up at Jon. Robb clearly thanked the woman before almost running up to meet him, breathing slightly heavier when he arrived.

"What's so urgent?" Jon asked, his mind immediately going to the Wall. "Is it time?"

"What? Oh, no." Robb shook his head. "Well, news from the South. It seems your… uncle, is he? The King." Jon scowled, to Robb's amusement. "Well he's angered Mace Tyrell for some reason who wants support in overthrowing him."

Jon swore loudly. "We don't have the time for petty infighting." He snarled.

"I had another letter from Dragonstone, apparently it's all in hand." Robb shrugged. "What is more urgent to me is a petitioner from Long Lake."

That did have Jon confused. "Is that not Umber land?" He asked, trying to remember his lessons in Northern borders.

Robb nodded. "The eastern side of the lake is, the western is Forrester." He explained. "But the petitioner has already been to Last Hearth and was told to come here instead by the Greatjon."

"That seems odd." Jon surmised.

"I thought so too." Robb sighed. "It seems that a large number of sheep is going missing from a farm near the Lonely Hills. Lord Umber says he hasn't the men to spare as they're all protecting the North from the, and I'm quoting here, 'Wildling scum that plague our lands'." Robb rolled his eyes. "And he was too afraid to go to Lord Bolton in the South, so travelled here hoping that I would do something about it."

"And will you?" Jon asked.

"I have to." Robb sighed again. "If the Greatjon has his way, he'll blame the Free Folk and that will start a war. If I let Bolton handle it… well, I don't know what he would do and that worries me even more." Jon could agree there, the Lord of the Dreadfort was an entity known only to himself, and a man that scared Robb to the bone. "I can't leave Winterfell though, so I was hoping you would go in my name."

Jon was taken aback. "Me? Wouldn't one of your guards…" He trailed off, noticing Robb's firm glare.

"I trust nobody more than you." Robb insisted. "If it is Wildlings, you and Ygritte are best placed to stop them, if it's something else… well, I trust you to figure it out and put a stop to it."

Jon smiled, and the pair hugged briefly. "I won't let you down, brother." Jon stated.

"I know you won't." Robb said back as they pulled apart. "Take half a dozen men and the fastest horses. Get Ghost to sniff these sheep out, you can be back in a fortnight."

Jon laughed. "As you say, My Lord." He bowed exaggeratedly before looking up at the sky. "There's still plenty of light. If I leave within the hour we might make the Wolfswood by tomorrow."

"I'll see to the kitchens, you gather your men." Robb insisted. "And woman." He added with a grin. "We wouldn't want your bedroll to be cold, would we."

Jon lightly punched Robb on the shoulder, laughing along as he walked across the ramparts, eager to see to the mission quickly so that he was back in plenty of time.

The Throne Room was packed. People from the court had filled the hastily built benches that lined either wing of the room, whilst a wooden dock had been erected and placed just in front of the Iron Throne. In the gallery Luke could see many familiar faces, including his wife and her brother stood at the end nearest to him with their Grandmother, Lady Olenna, whilst Daenerys was stood with Lord Velaryon at the far end closer to the doors. Luke meanwhile was once again sat on the Iron Throne, though this time he wasn't armoured, nor was Blackfyre in his hands. He instead wore all black in mourning for Jon Connington, with a black cloak clasped to his shoulders.

The day had dragged on. One by one Luke had personally dealt with those that had held a command in what was being dubbed by bards already as the 'Thorn's Tumult.' Their choices were simple, the Wall or to lose their sword hand. Of the dozens of commanders that had been in charge of ships, areas or men, only three chose to lose an appendage instead of take the Black, a result that Luke was quite pleased with.

The final two trials were the most important. Firstly, Paxter Redwyne was brought in front of the King. Oberyn Martell cleared his throat once more, and as the Master of Laws started the trial.

"Lord Redwyne, you are brought here upon charges of treason, knowingly siding with a traitor and aiding in his rebellion by besieging the city of King's Landing."

Paxter bowed his head. "I admit it, I did besiege the King's Lands with my own ship and a squadron of galleys upon the order of my Goodbrother and Liege Lord. I am guilty of these crimes."

"And yet." Luke stated loudly. "You did surrender at the first opportunity. It was mine own anger and hot headedness that did not realise that and brought considerable damage to your fleet and men. You have stated your crimes, My Lord, and have paid for them in blood enough already. I am not cruel, and you shall not be made to choose between your hand or service to the Night's Watch. Instead, you will supply 30 of your own ships to be repurposed for the Royal Fleet and your younger son, Ser Hobber, will be brought to King's Landing as my guest, to reside here in the Red Keep for the next 10 years."

Paxter Redwyne kept his head down and Luke knew that the admiral was angry, but it was as lenient as Luke could afford to be. "Thank you, Your Grace." The Lord of the Arbor stated loudly. "My actions do not deserve such mercy."

It was for show, but Luke didn't care so long as the man remained loyal from now on. "Release Lord Redwyne from his chains and return him to his previous chambers." Luke ordered, leaning back in the uncomfortable Iron Throne as his orders were completed, and he watched the Redwyne Lord walk out of the room, leaving just one final trial left.

Mace Tyrell was led in by a pair of red cloaks and looked dishevelled. His hair was a mess and he was in rough spun tunic, a far cry from the wealth and cleanliness the Lord of the Reach usually portrayed. Luke waited once again as he was locked into place on the dock, gesturing to Oberyn once the guards had departed. "Lord Tyrell, you are brought here upon charges of treason." Oberyn began. "You did willingly twist the lies of a Blackfyre traitor into your own ambitions and rose up against your lawful King in rebellion, murdering Ser Raymund Connington and the Hand of the King, Lord Jon Connington of Storm's End, the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands."

"My actions were born out of a love for my country." Mace Tyrell stated proudly. "To protect the Seven Kingdom's from future conflict! The Blackfyre Rebellions live long in the memory in the Reach, families have been torn apart by the Black Dragon, and another Targaryen Bastard will only bring further doom to my people, and the other Kingdom's in the Realm."

"You were misled, My Lord." Prince Oberyn called over the murmurs of the gathered crowd. "The Spider Varys admitted in his cells that he was a Blackfyre borne from the female line of Haegon the Pretender. He wanted chaos between loyal subjects of King Lucerys in order to seize power for himself."

"Lies!" Mace Tyrell called out.

"You were deceived, My Lord." Luke shouted, rising to his feet. "I could maybe have forgiven that and blamed the Spider if blood had not been spilled, but you murdered a Lord Paramount and a knight of the Kingsguard. That, I cannot forgive."

"All I did, was to protect the realm of my birth from the demon spawn of you and your witch sister!" Mace Tyrell roared, causing more gasps and whispers.

Luke squeezed his fist into a ball tightly to keep himself from reacting. "Yet more lies from the Spider, Lord Tyrell. Daeron Waters is the bastard of my Sister and a soldier from Dragonstone that was killed in your needless uprising. Let that be known far across the realm. I have three children only, the Prince Aegon, and the Princesses Visenya and Saella. A Granddaughter that you have yet to meet because of your stupidity in falling for this obvious plot, clearly willing you to forget about the true threat we face to the North." Mace Tyrell's face was white, but his eyes had narrowed in rage. "And so, it comes time to sentence…"

"I demand a trial by combat!" Mace Tyrell screamed out, causing more gasps from the crowd and Luke to grimace in frustration. "You speak nought but lies, and the Gods will prove the righteousness of my cause!"

"I wasn't going to execute you, you damned fool." Luke whispered harshly. He looked up at the gallery and saw Margaery was just as pale, and Loras had his head in his hands. "Very well! He shouted for the crowds. "It is your right as a knight of the Seven. A trial by combat shall be held here, in the Throne Room, tomorrow at noon." He then stepped down to the main floor of the Throne Room and spoke to Mace Tyrell directly. "You have until then to find a champion, or else you must fight yourself, Goodfather."

And with a flourish of his cape, Luke departed for the Small Council chambers behind the Throne Room, his anger quickly growing beyond his ability to contain it.

Luke had thrown four chairs around the room and flipped the table before the doors opened behind him to reveal his wife with a scowl in her eyes that he felt deeply. Taking a breath to compose himself, he picked up one of the scattered chairs and placed it down for her to sit in. "Here." He said monotonously. "You should still be abed, the Grand Maester..."

"Gorman can be unhappy with me, I will stand." Margaery said bitterly. "A trial by combat? How could you allow such a thing?"

Luke scoffed back at her. "Asking for a trial by combat is a right every knight has available to him. If I turned that down, I'm basically admitting my guilt to the Gods and then where are we?"

"He is not a warrior, Luke." Margaery sighed, tears forming.

"I was sending him to the Wall." The Targaryen admitted. "In my next words, I was going to announce his sentence and proclaim Loras as the new Lord of Highgarden. He jumped in ahead of me and did this. We were going to have a powerful Lord and dozens of able-bodied men reinforcing the Night's Watch, and now…" He trailed off, sitting in the chair he had set aside for Margaery and rubbing his temples with his hand. "Will Loras fight?" He asked.

"No." Margaery shook her head. "He's gone to visit Father now to tell him, but he won't. Loras has made his choice and is standing with me… with us." Luke felt a delicate hand on his shoulder. "He has no other allies here, so Father will be forced to fight himself."

Sighing, Luke moved his hand and stared up at his wife. "I tried, today was going so well and without further deaths… damn him, damn your Father." He scowled.

"What about you?" Margaery asked. "Have you thought on a champion?"

Honestly, Luke had been too busy throwing furniture around to even contemplate it. "I haven't…" He admitted.

"Pick Ser Barristan." She pleaded. "I know I have lost the right to ask anything of you, but for the sake of our children do not let their Grandfather's lasting memory be that of a brutal execution in the Throne Room… Ser Barristan will win, but will be honourable and allow a surrender."

Luke frowned. "If your Father will surrender, that is. If he feels hopeless, he will continue to the bitter end."

"Not when my Grandmother and I speak with him." Margaery promised. "Please… enough blood has been spilled on both sides. Make Father yield and send him to the Wall… then we can finally settle back into peace…"

Peace would snap in an instant the moment word came from Castle Black of the imminent invasion, Luke knew, but the entire purpose of not simply executing Mace Tyrell had been to have a powerful man at the Wall in order to draw resources in time. "Convince him to accept either first blood or yielding, and I shall see to it that whomever fights for the Crown will accept it."

A kiss was planted on his cheek. "Thank you." Margaery whispered, before rushing away back out the door, leaving Luke alone with his anger dissipating, but with more questions in his mind than he had answers.

Dany and Margaery will never be friends, but the entire situation has truly caused Margaery to look twice and re-evaluate herself and her position. She is being honest there, trying to stop the infighting while Daenerys will never trust a Tyrell again.

In one move Luke rids himself of Varys and bids a final farewell to his mentor and best friend. I wanted that to be in the Targaryen fashion because of Jon's commitment to the Targaryen cause since he was a young adult. Despite being the Lord of Storm's End, he would never be welcomed there and Griffin's Roost was also a bit hit and miss when it came to Jon, so Luke decided that to honour him in the Targaryen way was more fitting. I obviously used a lot from Episode 1 of House of the Dragon for that scene.

Loras is caught in a difficult position here, but he definitely won't be wanting to get on Luke's bad side after all this by fighting against the crown for his Father… who is still rushing blindly into things that could be easily avoided. Now it all rests on if Margaery can convince Mace to accept, and who it is that fights for the Crown…

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!

Next Time: Mace Tyrell fights for his freedom, whilst Jon Snow and Ygritte arrive at Long Lake…

Reviews:

LockNesTom: I did think of using that in world! But I thought the alliteration of the Thorn's Tumult worked a little better.

meryfcuckery: Luke's gone the way of many a Targaryen King before him: clouded by the thought of the prophecy and doing what he feels best to have a strong realm when the time comes.

FangRu: It's really not that simple… dragons give you power, but only a certain amount. If Luke acts like a tyrant then he will only end up with more problems and at the moment he is hell bent on ensuring a powerful force is behind him for the coming of the White Walkers.

Darkjon: Yeah I wouldn't be going into the White Walkers without Luke… though I can't promise the obvious candidates will survive beyond now!