The throne room fell into a heavy silence as Ragnar stepped forward, the echo of his footsteps swallowed by the vastness of the chamber. Rows of courtiers lined either side, their gazes sharp, curious, and in some cases, openly hostile. It was something he had long ago grown used to.
At the far end, the king and queen sat upon their thrones on the raised dais, watching his approach just as keenly as the gathered courtiers.
Stopping at the foot of the dais, Ragnar bowed before the king and queen, his head lowered in deference.
"Rise," the king commanded, gaze sharp even while he lounged on his throne.
Ragnar obeyed, straightening to his full height. He could feel the weight of every eye in the room settle on him, judging him and measuring his worth. He would not be surprised if they still found him lacking. They all had an image of what a truly acceptable prince was and Ragnar being illegitimate and a half-blood meant he would never fit that mold.
