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Ragnar lay in his bed, his body writhing in pain. The blue blade sickness had taken a severe toll on him, leaving him weak and helpless. His breathing was labored, and his eyes were shut tightly as he clenched his teeth, trying to endure the excruciating pain that coursed through his body.

He let out a low groan as another wave of pain hit him, making him break out in a cold sweat. His hands trembled as he gripped the sheets, his knuckles turning white with the strain. Ragnar knew he was running out of time, and the thought of his impending death made him angrier than ever.

Suddenly, there was a knock on his door.

“Your Highness, can I come in?” Came the voice from outside the door.

Ragnar quickly tried to compose himself. His face contorted with pain as he shifted on his bed, his breaths coming in short gasps. He clutched his stomach, feeling a wreck of havoc on his body. Despite the pain, he knew he had to maintain his composure and show no signs of weakness in front of his guards.