Routine had wormed its way into his typical day to day life after he had drunkenly defended the king, quickly having become part of the royal guard. The silver armor was a weighted contrast from the rags he had worn less than two years ago. Waking with the sun, dressing as the birds sang their morning song, then meeting the king at seven on the dot. He had never had a routine before hand, having struggled for scraps on the streets. As he looked towards the grandfather clock that hung above his bed, he hissed under his breath.

He’s late.

The blonde hurriedly pushed his prosthetic hand back into the socket where he had disassembled the piece of technology the night before. Grabbing his silver sword and shoving it into the hilt on his hip, he didn’t think to grab anything else. He burst through his bedroom doors, nearly knocking servants over as he shouted apologies. The sound of heavy armor clumsily filled the air, his feet pushing him further down towards the garden where King Nicholas had told him to meet in the morning.

While he may have had set times, Vash’s tardiness never improved, always five to ten minutes late. However the king never truly punished him, only ever scolding him. His blue eyes raked the garden as he walked, pushing forward as he looked for the raven-haired king whom had become one of his only friends. Unfortunately, this led to him running into a servant, knocking the both of them over. Wrapping his arms around their waist, he flipped them so he would take the weight of the fall.

When he opened his mouth to apologize though, he saw the servant and froze, the sudden pounding in his heart and the warmth pooling in his cheeks making his throat tighten. His heart pounded viciously in his chest as he admired the simple servant whom had been working on maintaining the landscape. Vash had always been a smooth talker, a flirter, yet now he couldn’t bring himself to utter a word to the person who had his pale palm growing clammy.