He didn't know when it started, this... infatuation.

Arthur always kept his thoughts close to mind, feelings away. Happiness and romance were not things he ever worried about, only the duty that had been served to him on a silver plate since he took the oaths of the Kingsguard.

Day and night, he lived for his king. Day and night, he fought for his king. Day and night, he sacrificed for his king.

These kinds of things didn't change easily, if ever. It was a pattern he never longed to break, a pattern that had been engrained so deeply into himself he could never dream of parting from it.

However, the days turned longer and the nights turned shorter.

The faintest brush of gloved fingertips, a lingering glance over his shoulder — always reassuring himself that it was out of duty to Aerys and to Rhaegar. He acted like a shadow, despite the fact that he was not your sworn-sword.

Where you went, he wasn't too far behind. A habit, another one of his many, but this one? He hoped he'd ever break it, but it had become a vice before long, and he could not dream of a day where he did not scent the fresh smell of lavenders in the air, or the creamy fragrance of the soaps you used.

Arthur watched you like a hawk, always. It was his job, his duty, his desire to do so.

When you were too ill to leave your chambers, he'd stand guard outside until you felt better. When you visited the gardens, he'd pluck a rose and offer it to you, no matter if all of the roses in the Seven Kingdoms already belonged to you. When you asked to go with Rhaegar to Flea-Bottom, he would stand too close for comfort, just for the sake of keeping you safe.

He had found so many excuses to his actions, but as he stared at you as you silently watched the rain pour from the window of the study room... he realized that his infatuation had turned into something he could not control.

It was love.