"Get your filthy hands off me!" He protested and pushed you away as your hands seek for the buttons on his clothes. He huffed and he already looked like he ran a thousand miles from his quarrel.

He was sick. Very sick. And you as his personal maid, you had to take care of him. He's been sweating a lot and having trouble letting his body breathe and rest. You wanted to help take his blazer off but he doesn't let you. He doesn't like it when someone has to do something such as helping him undress for him. It makes him feel pathetic. Vulnerable.

Again, you reach it to try to help, but his protests are weaker. "I'll have you know I'm the crowned prince of-" He coughs before he can continue, his body growing weaker