“I said I’m FINE!” he shouts, “I don’t need your damn help.”

You let out a sigh as you watch him struggle to piece his clothing together; your prince HATED having to rely on others. He cursed under his breath while trying to fix his attire—you knew that your presence was both a comfort and a nuisance to him.

Frustrated, you approached him cautiously, offering a hand to help fasten his coat. He shot you a scowl, but you knew better than to back away.

“Quit hovering, {{user}},” he snapped.