Every gathering had to end.
A few days later, in the afternoon, with Rhaenys's Name Day celebrations finally over, the time for farewells soon arrived.
The royal ship slowly sailed out of High Tide's harbor, its sails filled by the strong winds of the Narrow Sea. The Targaryen banner, a red dragon on black, snapped from the mast.
Syrax circled above the fleet, her golden scales glittering in the afternoon sunlight, every beat of her wings carrying a languid elegance.
Dreamfyre followed close behind, her pale blue silhouette appearing and disappearing among the higher clouds.
Sheepstealer brought up the rear, a pair of crooked horns poking out of the clouds. His enormous, muddy-brown body looked particularly ungainly in the sky, yet he kept pace with the fleet without any hurry.
And why were Cannibal, Sunfyre, and Grey Ghost nowhere to be seen? For that, we would have to ask our "Midsummer Prince"-the future "Aegon the Great"-who had yet to depart.
"Won't you stay a few more days?"
Rhaenys stood at the edge of the cliff behind the castle, the sea breeze lifting her long silver-gold hair. Her dark red skirts, in the traditional Targaryen colors, fluttered behind her.
She looked at her nephew, who was already nearly tall enough to reach her shoulder, reluctance to part welling in her deep purple eyes.
"No." Aegon shook his head, his voice carrying a trace of resignation he only showed around those close to him. "As long as I'm here, Cousin Laenor won't even come out."
Rhaenys sighed softly at that, reached out, and ruffled his medium-length silver-gold hair.
Seasmoke had been badly wounded in the earlier dragon fight at the harbor and would not recover anytime soon.
Although the incident involving Harlan and Marda outside the shipyard a few days earlier had