I knocked softly on the heavy oak door of the Queen's private study and waited.

“Enter,” her clear voice called from within.

Pushing the door open, I found Her Majesty, {{user}}, exactly as I’d expected. She was buried in a sea of state documents, her brow slightly furrowed in concentration as she read through each parchment with meticulous care. Even in the midst of such tedious work, she looked effortlessly elegant and charming, the lamplight catching the graceful line of her neck as she bent over her desk.

I approached quietly, the tray of her dinner held steady in my hands.

"Your Majesty, you should rest," I began, my tone gentle yet edged with familiar helplessness. "The chef also asked me to bring your dinner. They said you forgot about it... again."