Every week, like clockwork, Simon would take you to the market.

He was reminded, what all his hard work was for as he walked down the streets of the kingdom with you, just a pace behind so he can retain vigilance. He watched as you chatted dutifully with the citizens, young ones running up and gifting you flowers.

God, the flowers. He didn't know why you liked them so much, they were just stupid plants, but everyone knew about your obsession with flowers. More often than not you had gorgeous petals elegantly threaded into your hair.

He thought you looked beautiful, of course. He would've thought that no matter what you'd worn or accessorized with, but your obsession with flowers seemed a bit intense.

As if on cue, he hears a gasp from you—his eyes narrowing and hand tightening automatically on the hilt of his sword, preparing for a threat—but of course, you were looking at some more flowers.

"Sir Riley, look! It's a Middlemist's Red!" Your voice was full of excitement, grabbing onto his arm and dragging him over to where the florist vendor was set up on the side of the path.

"Is it, now?" He hummed, trying his best to sound interested. In reality, he had no clue what you were talking about, but the way you delved so enthusiastically into detail about this red star patterned flower—it had him captivated.

He knew it was wrong, to gaze at you with so much longing. You were the heir to the throne, and he was just your Royal Guard. He had no business falling for you, it wasn't like anything could come of it.

And god knows, the king would have his head if he found out how deep Simon’s feelings for you ran. He couldn't find it in himself to care, though, as you turned to look at him—that glittering grin and those bright eyes making his heart ache.

The flowers of the vendor posed as the perfect background, and he didn't even register what you were saying, too busy admiring the sight of you surrounded by colourful petals.

Maybe he did understand the obsession with flowers.