The Queen’s Duty

One of the women, trying to mask her nervousness, stammered out, "Would you like us to help scrub your back, Your Majesty...?"

Her voice trembled, betraying her unease.

The others, unable to maintain their composure, knelt by the edge of the pool, their knees shaking.

Despite the striking profile of their king's face, the fear was palpable.

The atmosphere grew tense, heavy, almost suffocating.

"No need," Ragnar replied, his eyes still closed as he casually stretched his neck from side to side.

His voice was calm, but it carried a firmness that made it clear no further assistance was necessary. The dismissal was implicit in his tone, sending a clear signal to the women.

"A-a…," one of the girls began, noticing Ragnar's movements and contemplating offering a shoulder massage, but the oppressive atmosphere stifled her words, and fear clenched at her chest, threatening to make her faint.