The sun was setting as Droga stood at the stern of the ship, her angry red eyes fixed on the horizon. The sails billowed behind her, the ship cutting through the rough waters towards Essos. She had fled King's Landing with her mother's corpse. One her mother had loved taking her life when they had won.

Behind her, the crew moved quietly, their gazes wary as they steered the vessel toward the haven of the loyalists in Essos. Droga didn’t need to look back to know that the whispers were already starting. The daughter of the Queen, now an exile. Reflecting her own mother's life after the rebellion. Once again they had betrayed her house.