On the beach along Driftmark's eastern coast.
The sea breeze scattered the clamor of the Hall of Nine Voyages behind him, while the lights of High Tide dwindled into a hazy glow in the distance.
Aegon left the banquet hall, passed out of the Hall of Nine Voyages, and walked through High Tide's gates. Rather than return straight to his assigned guest room, he leisurely made his way down to this beach.
The cliff where Vhagar had been earlier stood nearby. The enormous dark green dragon seemed to dislike the company of the "little ones." Preferring solitude, she had moved elsewhere and was now dozing on the beach a short distance away. Each breath stirred fine shell dust that glittered silver in the moonlight.
"House Velaryon really does have deep coffers," Aegon murmured, looking around.
Even in this secluded spot, even at this late hour, he could still see the lights of passing ships drifting across the water.
The salty sea breeze from the Narrow Sea brushed gently against his cheeks, lifting his medium-length silver-gold hair.
This was hardly one of Driftmark's grander districts. In Hull or Spicetown, the ships in the harbor would probably have been packed as tightly as pieces on a game board.
Spicetown's docks were always laden with cinnamon and cardamom brought from the Summer Isles, while the sound of shipwrights' hammers rang day and night through Hull's shipyards.
Yet even prosperity like this had gone up in flames during the Dance of the Dragons. One Battle of the Gullet, and it had all burned away.
Aegon shook his head inwardly. Over the past few years, his determination to grow stronger and stand on his own had only deepened. A man had his pride, after all. He could not keep hiding behind women forever.
If he