Honestly, Ronan's thought process was simple enough.
If a pretty girl was being as forward as that... hesitating once was considered being cautious. Even smart.
But if she wanted to have a go again in spite of it all, then another bout of hesitation would just be stupid.
So, at some point, Ronan just mentally said fuck it... and voila... he did what he did.
With stuff escalating and him actually having fucked her.
For when one wants you like so, it's kind of hard to resist.
Plus with all the long-distance commuting and effort she's made throughout these times... even he can't help but root for the gal.
So, he made sure that her dedication was well worth it.
And obviously, he was not just some brutish replacement for the wild boar that was supposed to rudely get on top of her during this very night of the Royal Hunt.
Obviously, he didn't want to get passionately stabbed into a bloody spurting by the very frustrated princess.
But it was interesting how Rhaenyra herself was the one who wanted to get passionately stabbed instead.
Oh, how fate twists itself.
On that note, Ronan still very much bumped Cole out of the spot he should have had, like that boar also unceremoniously did.
And yes, with this Sweet Home Alabama method, he's kind of decided... to just get back into that House of the Dragon.
Cause, why not?
Then again, this thought was pretty much on whim... and could be considered a product of an unprecedented surge of lust.
Blood of the dragon antics, probably. Or just an implosion from all these years of being an honorable sage here in Planetos... catalyzed by a super girl that was thirsting for him in her prime.
Either way, it is what it is.
Accordingly... with all that said and mostly done... Ronan had to help the differently dressed Princess in her distress to get on her she-dragon.
Cause, yeah... he may have torn her previous clothing off... just as he had torn off her maidenhead, so again... it is what it is.
What's not what it should be, however... is Syrax.
The supposedly lazy dragon was now genuinely bigger than he knew it to be. Even looking quite proportionally fit rather than its alleged "fat".
Probably from all these years of gorging on Runestone's prettier sheep. With all that mass converted into muscle from all the trips away from that constricting Dragonpit.
Meaning that her current stats were actually enough to saddle two.
So, with the insistence of the pleading Rhaenyra, he could only saddle along after a touchy-feely imprinting.
For it would seem his metaphorical substitution of that boar might not be over just yet.
------------
Concurrently, while a rushed couple was taking a rushed flight... King Viserys woke up groggy and unwell as it is.
The prior night had himself drowning in cups of wine to vent from his troubles and sorrows.
His daughter's contrarian attitude, Otto's politicking to have Aegon wed Rhaenyra, and Lyonel's strong counsel... and so on.
Most of all his regret for not being the dreamer that he thought he was... killing Aemma in the process and mayhaps let out to his new Queen that he actually had no intention to marry. Or even expected to have a son.
But that rant by the pyre should be resolved soon enough. For Alicent was quite understanding of his plights.
The matter that hounds him this early morning is this ride on horseback.
Viserys fears that the contents of last night's feast might just be thrown up by him.
Fortunately, their slow parade of a hunt found its stop... with some attendant setting up a ladder for him to step down on.
"Left." Was what someone called out... as in front of him was their catch.
Quite the stag, tied and pulled all over by horses and his fellow hunters... yet it was no White Hart.
Still, while pulling on the animal... Breakbones Strong appeased. "He may not be white, Your Grace. But he's a big lad."
The difference didn't really matter for Viserys, however... as he just breathed out relief.
"Your Grace..." Jason Lannister called out from the side, handing out that weapon he had presented earlier as a gift for Aegon, stating that it was. "...for the kill."
The King obliged. Inspecting the 3-pronged tip of such an odd spear... then slowly approached the horned deer.
Not quite knowing what to actually do.
Thankfully, another was there to help, pointing at the animal's part, stating. "Right here, Your Grace."
Simple enough until it wasn't.
As the tied stag was still moving and feisty enough.
But, so be it...
With a grunt, Viserys thrusted the weapon.
Injuring the animal who cried out.
But it was only injured, not yet killed... resulting in an uncomfortable silence from the onlookers.
So the guiding man could only say "One more time, Your Grace."
Whilst pointing again at the actual spot, saying. "A little bit to your left."
And so, Viserys could only fiddle with the weapon for the second time... and then trusted that his next thrust be the one.
Thank the Gods, it was.
Much to the applause of the onlookers, who praised him for a hunt well done.
It may not be the White Hart, but such a big stag should be a catch that is good enough.
Enough to hopefully appease those that await back at camp.
---------------
And in a way, it should have sufficed.
With this Royal Hunt already at its descent.
Everyone was going about their normalities, being calm and at peace while the event was about to end.
Mostly enjoying the feast that was prepared on the tables outside of the tents.
Viserys himself sat with Otto and Lyonel to discuss some matters.
Whilst just behind them... Alicent was with little Aegon, mingling with some of the more influential ladies in their merry ways.
That is until a dragon roar could be heard from the distance...
And when it neared... a familiar dragon with a honey-yellow hue landed by the mouth of the tents.
No doubt carrying the rider, who should be none other than Rhaenyra... and Viserys could only let out exasperation at such defiance.
Then again, he may have reacted too soon... for the King realized that the reaction of the crowd from afar was not right.
It was quiet… as if they were stunned.
But surely, it was not because of the sight of a dragon or his daughter's rebellious procession.
So, he asked. "What is happening?"
Yet none close by can offer reply.
More so when the answer actually neared and was right within sight.
It was Rhaenyra, sure enough... but she was wearing cloth of a very bronze color...
Yet even that was not what stunned everyone... as trailing beside her was a knight in very bronze armor.
Lined with runes that none can read.
But such a combination told enough.
For it made the Lord of Hightower stand abruptly.
It humbled the prideful Lannister Lord in his seat.
Viserys even saw the Clubfoot fall off from his seat and the infamous Breakbones unable to skin his rodent in hand.
Much to Lyonel's concerns and the shaking of Otto in the seat beside.
The King even heard the ladies from behind losing breath and Alicent letting out a sharp gasp.
For the catch that Rhaenyra abruptly brought to the party was no simple stag that was bigger than most...
Nor was it some common boar she butchered, nor was it the King of the Kingswood...
It was just the freaking Bold Bronze of all people!
Who actually approached to where he's at... smiling with unprecedented charm to say. "It's been a while, Your Grace..."
"And sorry if I've arrived uninvited and unannounced..."
"But the Princess insisted..."
"That I ask for your blessing sooner than late."
"B-blessing?" Viserys stuttered. "Blessing for what?"
"For my betrothal to her, of course." The Bold Bronze smilingly said it as if it were simple. "For it would seem I am to be your good-son soon enough."
Which just sent Viserys into a coughing fit... even when his sickness hasn't flared, nor has he swallowed his food wrong.
He was just too taken aback... at this shocking turn of events that suddenly came at him from nowhere.