Kidding aside... the frozen fire of 'zīrtys perzys' is hardly relevant as of current… and Ronan just considered them as rather brittle mediums for either weapons or magic.
A runed obsidian arrowhead that breaks like glass shards upon latching into a target seemed like an interesting direction to take though...
But again, the wights and the other Others are technically still in slumber for it to be usefully justified.
However, that didn't mean that Ronan wasn't keen on waking them up... just as he's about to do to certain beasts dwelling in this hot zone.
As a matter of fact, he was currently at the castle's basement... at the very edge, where an older Rhaenyra would've introduced a furious dragon upon very misfortunate dragonseeds.
So, with that in mind and without further adieu, he High Valyrian-ly uttered. "Naejot māzīs... ñuhon zaldrīzoti!"
Accordingly, after his voice echoed along...
The quiet cavern of the Dragonmont rumbled... with pebbles dropping, and some stone could be heard cracking...
Growls and roars also melded slightly... which then got louder and louder...
Which meant that they were approaching.
And sure enough, as Ronan overlooked towards the dim and dark cave... the approachers came close... and their draconic forms were finally revealed by the torches.
Meaning that they've come forth... his dragons!
All five of them... towering over him, yet subserviently awaiting his instructions.
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Clearly, Ronan was a greedy guy. That he did not deny.
Especially when the opportunities presented themselves like so... so why not?
Why not nab them when he could?
Starting with or focusing on the most obvious choice for a bronze-themed him... the Bronze Fury itself.
With its bronze scales, orange eyes, and black horns... known for its ferocious nature.
Vermithor.
And as much as he wanted to say that the bonding process was as epic as can be... it was actually just a matter of looking at it straight in the eye and not showing any ounce of fear.
Which meant that as soon as he was able to sit on where olde Jaeharys used to sit... a kind of bond was established.
Between dragon and dragonrider.
Simple stuff... even anti-climactic... but with complex implications that were bound to reverberate to the outside world from that point on.
A grandson's grudge on a grandsire being somewhat avenged...
While a Bold Bronze with a Bronze Fury could very well be a nightmare for certain people.
More so when he had four more at his beck and call...
Four others that would literally be seen flying at his side... whilst he takes his bronze dragon for flights.
Most shocking among them... was The Cannibal. Black as coal, with menacing green eyes. Arguably larger and more fearsome than the others... with a reputation that precedes itself.
While the most fitting would be the silver companion. Silverwing. The mate of Vermithor that does not stray that far.
But to serve as a stark contrast was the ugly mud-brown Sheepstealer... albeit its size was genuinely nothing to scoff at.
Then again, there was also one that was the smallest and genuinely easy to miss... a Grey Ghost that was pale grey-white, like the color of morning mist.
Five apex beasts of flame... for him to command. At inexplicable ease and whim.
A showcase of his dominance that could not be denied.
At least, that's how Ronan imagined people would be reacting or digesting the news... and his imagination may not be far off...
Considering that that's how his wife, the Dragonstone attendants, and the in-island Dragonkeepers were already gazing his way.
Little did they know it was actually just warging cranked to the fullest... and beyond. Including some lessons kept in mind from an encounter with an Ice Dragon.
Granted, with these five dragons, including the also-relocated Syrax... Ronan also took the chance to actually be strategic... systematic... and even academic with it.
For the good of his unborn child and his other dragon-blooded descendants to come...
Rune and Stone would have to be back at it again... making a comprehensive book on How to Train Your Dragon.
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Consequently, Ronan's heightened fixation on dragons was far from over.
For Dragonstone was just teeming with them to even stop at one thing.
And it just so happened that in this next circumstance... he's sort of circled back to caring for the unborn young.
But unlike his child that's still fetus-ing along in Rhaenyra's womb... these ones happen to be literal unborn, whose shells became their coffins.
The duds of every clutch. Dragon eggs that didn't hatch and fossilized into stone. In a way, they were dragon stone.
Collated and stored… over the years for sentimental value or something…
Granted, what he's about to do with them was obvious enough...
Which is really just to revive or resurrect them from the dead, of course.
Or at least try to... after all, he didn't terrorize those necromancers for nothing.
Then again, that necro stuff and even the Dany way may not be needed in this case... since there's still the good old-fashioned Royce runing to go with.
Given that dragon eggs, even if bumped up or defective, are technically magical materials.
And even if they failed, due to the lack thereof... there should still be other ways to runically re-incubate them.
With enough diligence and Heaven as his guide... Ronan should be able to fix them up with what he could.
And if all goes super well on that piece of paper... new and even improved dragons could probably come into existence.
Which is already just an exciting enough prospect to think about... perhaps more so when he's achieved it for real.