Little Things
It was Arthur who tended to notice the little things about her.
After four years of marriage, he knew her better than he knew himself, and yet every day, he discovered something new – another little habit that she had, or a vice he hadn't noticed before. Little things which made her all the more precious to him - like the way she would always spritz perfume on her left wrist before her right one, or the way she bit her lip when she was confused. Like the way she subconsciously hummed a particular tune when putting on a particular dress, or how she twisted the end of her braid around her fingertips just before bed. The exact shade of gold her eyes turned in the lazy morning sunlight.
They made him smile, made him laugh, made him love her more every day.
He didn't know how that was possible, seeing as he loved her with all his heart already, but these things somehow managed to make it so.
Because they added up to her.
His Guinevere.