Those sure were an eventful couple of days... Ronan could say so for himself.
To get called for by the King, being recognized as the man's nephew under the watch of the council, and then be the talk of the realm once again.
Then again, one of those things didn't happen. Especially when he was kind of expecting it to.
He actually walked into that room thinking that he'd leave with a completely absolved bastardry by ultimate kingly authority... with his mother having her honor restored... and his supposed father bearing all the brunt of the many incoming criticisms.
Alas, it wasn't meant to be. Which kind of worked in his favor given that he didn't want to be roped into the Targs... but it still left a bad taste in his mouth.
Oh well...
It is what it is.
It's not like this version of Paddy Considine had DNA eyes that could announce to Daemon and the realm that "he is, in fact, the father!".
And even bonding with a dragon isn't that substantial of a solution.
For even the bastard dragonseeds can claim dragons, which is enough to say that his illegitimate father that impregnated Lady Rhea might just be a dragonseed with Targ blood. Probably...
And the tourney is not being held in Dragonstone, it's in freaking King's Landing and Ronan was not too interested in the Dragonpit's stock.
So, yeah… it is what it is… with Daemon's word against mother Rhea's word… and only when those line up with each other will his heritage be cleared up somewhat.
In any case and afterwards... it was getting pestered by an overly curious princess like Rhaenyra among other things.
There was Alicent too.
The two people pivotal in the conflict to come. Taking the chance to enact fan behavior when getting a face-to-face opportunity with their idol.
He's pretty famous for so many reasons, after all. And a meet-and-greet with the infamous Black Queen and Green Queen dowager was fine for him.
But then, while in this increasingly crowded and lively capital... he was an object of fancy for many other peeps.
Like his other would-have-been "cousins" from the Velaryons... little Laena that had stars in her eyes when greeting him, and then there's Laenor... who had the heart-eyes looking his way.
And Ronan had not much to say about that... but their uncle Vaemond dude was looking and acting annoying, especially with all those threats that are most likely backed by the Sea Snake himself.
So, aside from fans... there clearly are haters as well.
He's just that polarizing of a character for the realm, which is obvious enough.
Bastards were very bastardized here... and as much as he considered himself above this very backward ideologies, it was still annoying when the idiotic sheeple gets up into his face with all the insults.
That got annoying real fast.
Even more so when he should have gotten out of it after the squashing of the Eyrie rebellion.
Alas... it wasn't enough when they're too stuck up in their ignorance or just butt-hurt envious of his success.
Meaning that the only way to probably shut them up was to be proven as Daemon Targaryen's son.
Which didn't seem to be happening anytime soon or probably never at all. Due to aforementioned reasons.
Yet as much as he didn't want to be caught up in Targ problems... he still would have been fine with some of the recognition and absolution.
Granted, his uncle of a King was exasperatingly meek and favored the continuance of the status quo... as evidenced by how he acted at that "special audience".
Hence, the negative aftertaste that lingered in him.
In the meantime, he could only tolerate all that he's being dished with... but as soon as he can and after all this fiasco is over, he'll retreat back to his coasts in that chunky non-Fingers peninsula of the Vale.
With all that mentally said, he still had to be the show pony that everyone is oogling at... and it just so happens that he was currently taking part in the tourney's archery competition.
So, after that "quick" contemplation and then exhaling his rationalizing frustrations, he let go...
Hitting the target dead in the center, initiating many onlookers' applause. Begrudging some.
Of course, to be more of a showboat, he nocked another arrow in and then let it loose...
Hitting the same target dead center again... but splitting the still-stuck arrow... to everyone's amazement. Hater's included.
Then again, he repeated the same reloading of his bow and arrow... and shot it once again...
Hitting dead in the center for the third time... splitting the arrow that split the previous arrow.
And at that point, most were in stunned shock and others were in horror.
Cause, what in the bullshitting bullseyes were those?!
In any case, he won that event and walked off with a hefty number of gold dragons as a prize.
To either pay off some of what he borrowed from Jeyne or just kick off another project entirely.
Debts be damned.
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From the stands, Lady Rhea watched her son loose his arrows one by one.
Each shot struck true... the second splitting the first, the third splitting them both.
The crowd gasped, cheered, and murmured his name like they had always known it, like they hadn't spat it with venom years before.
She sat tall, expression steady, though her chest swelled with a quiet satisfaction, even with all her brewing dissatisfactions.
Her son had inherited her hand with the bow, no doubt, but he had turned it into something far beyond her own skill.
Precision, confidence, showmanship... all of it his, and all of it earned.
Her only vindication, was what this was.
For every insult whispered behind her back, for every sly smirk at court, for every false tale of her supposed shame. They were the ones who should hang their heads against her son's greatness.
Accordingly, as the same ladies who once turned their noses now smiled and waved from across the stands... even a few lords suddenly remembered her name with syruped politeness...
Rhea could barely keep the disgust from her face.
The hypocrisy of it all was almost too much to stomach.
Much more so when she and her son were dismissed as just that by the King once again.
Offering false praises and wasting their trip with a forceful invite that led nowhere.
She had her hopes up and it was wasted again.
If not for her son's advisements and appeasal, Rhea would not have known how to compose herself.
So, from this point onwards... she truly will not expect anything from those damned Targaryens.
Time will still tell her truth but at that point, she could care less for their paltry excuses.
She will refuse every last one of them...
Her son will be Royce. As he always should have been.
Ronan Royce.
That was who he was, and who he would remain. Not a Targaryen.
Not some ornament for the royal family to parade about when they eventually find themselves guilty.
Her son was forged from their bronze, not the dragon's fire.
And as she thought so, her planted hate couldn't help but grow some more... as the grudge she remembered is still far from resolved.
Meaning that these Targaryens better cross her no more.
For the hells hath no fury like a woman scorned, after all.