When he lost hope of not being spotted by the locals without his mask, Ser Vincent found himself far, far too exhausted to care.

For far too long he had gone without proper rest, and he had pushed his body beyond the sake of passing his limits, breaking that definitive line between what he could do and shouldn’t. Now he was a self-abused wreck, fighting to walk straight and breathe normally.

He’d straighten up only to slump, stagger to the side and shock a pony, restarting the cycle. He held a wad of green bandage against his cheek with his exposed left hand, all five digits pale in the daylight. He still wore the charred glove on his right only because he hadn’t gotten around to removing it yet.

His eyes were focused however. Sharp malachite focused on the road ahead, studying the startled ponies before quickly diverting back to the floor. Spearmint and garlic flooded his nose as wisps of blue danced around the bandage, numbing the sting of fresh air against his exposed face.

He hated being like this.

Admittedly, he knew the situation was worse because the ogres had done a number on his face. He had just finished picking broken fragments from his wounds after all, anything else he decided could be left for the clinic back in Canterlot. Sure, he could have looked better but these ponies were all the same.

‘Maybe I can try again after a clean shave.’

If it wasn’t one of them, if it wasn’t known, then a pony had to be wary of it.

Too curious and gawking, too scared and avoiding, too brave and mistaking—it all lead to bother for him. That’s where the mask came in. If they saw a stallion garbed heavily in cloth, sporting a mask, with proof he was a knight, then all was honky dory. He was Ser Vincent, the polite and well respected Solaris Knight, who lived to be the embodiment of all legendary stories about his unit.

Without it? He was questioned for credibility, challenged for his authority, both of which took time to prove. They couldn’t trust his face, they didn’t like different. He chucked the bandage into a nearby waste bin, catching the eye of nervous passer-by. He would be calm, he would be polite, and he would be respectful even if others wouldn’t.

Month after month after month after month… and then, when pointed out in a cruel jest, inspiration struck. And for five years so did the mask. Ponies were wary, obviously, but he learnt to adapt his body and voice. The former being very important.

He turned off around a corner, almost bumping into short plump mare, a strawberry icing mane tickling his nose.

“Oop! Sorry there, dearie,” she said with a grin to her voice. His expression fell flat as her eyes shrunk upon meeting his and then all words seemed to die in her mouth. As did her smile.

“I apologise for rushing,” he replied, his voice warm and friendly despite not matching his features. He wasn’t angry with this particular mare, and as he slipped past her, he found himself more concerned about trying to walk straight.

His body had… changed from what it was intended to be. His parents were humans, not magical beings, and the only other two in existence. Whilst still developing in the womb, the abundance of magic found in the Equestria affected him throughout, weaving itself to become a broken part of him.

It was not for free, nor was it without weakness. His extent of control was limited to stopping a rush and riding it out under his influence. He couldn’t start and stop it. He could be knocked out before he realised what was going on; it only multiplied his own strength and agility, and it did not make him unstoppable.

Mana burnout was always lurking beyond over exertion, as any mage worth their salt would tell you. Unicorns got splitting headaches for days whilst Ser Vincent’s body burnt for the same period.

Mentally, physically, and magically, Ser Vincent was spent. What glimmer of thought that sparked in his eyes was the luxury of sleeping on a train back home .There he would be patched up and able to rest. He propped his hood up before pocketing his exposed hand.

He didn’t know how long he had wandered, nor how long he sat on the bench at the train station alone thanks to everypony migrating inside and away from him. He couldn’t hate the ponies he protected even if he was in the right state of mind. If this is how they were, then so long as they weren’t causing trouble he couldn’t care. He was fine, he’d need a new mask and then everything would be back to normal.

He was content.

“Hey Mister Ser Vincent!”

With an amused huff he reclined back into the bench, tilting his head down and continuing with steadying his breathing.

“Hello, Little Miss,” he replied softly. A slight smile tugged on his cheeks, stinging the corner of his mouth. “Going somewhere?”

“Nah, me and girls just finished trying to get trainspotting cutie marks,” she replied as she approached. Vincent spotted her yellow hooves out of the corner of his widening green eye. “Glad we didn’t, it’s boring. Say, what happened to your mask?”

“I got careless and broke it,” he said simply. He had pushed himself day after day for a month, one mission after another, feeling like he could take on one more after another. He was right, because the one thing keeping him going was that he had completed what he had set out to do.

Deliver the letter? Check. Secure the crates? The retrieval squad were likely to be on the same train he’d ride back to Canterlot, or were flying over head as he spoke. He was too tired to check. A pack of diamond dogs were to be relocated to integrate into a more civil society and a cluster of ogres had been subdued.

Professionally speaking, this was one of the best months of this year. Personally it was a staggering reminder to rest more between missions. Maybe spare an extra day between tasks.

“How’d you do that? Are… are you okay?” He saw her shift to try and peak under and so he automatically shifted his gaze away. Trouble was, he didn’t have his mask anymore.

“Hey Apple Bloom.” He heard another voice call out. He tilted his head to have his ear aiming to his left, where two sets of hooves were heard trotting over. “Who’s the dude?” The tomboyish tone was certainly familiar, though Vincent’s mind was having difficulty determining as to why.

“Oh, he’s a knight! Mr Ser Vincent!” The jubilant little farm filly introduction was both warming and amusing. Applejack never corrected her on titles? The smile seemed worth the ache.

“Really?” Another sweet voice, making for three little fillies dangerously close to spotting him. Then again, he knew Applebloom suspected that something was off. He didn’t have a muzzle, and no pony had a muzzle short enough to hide under a hood this size.

“Yeah!” Apple Bloom responded as another set of hooves, powdered white, entered his peripheral vision. It was strange to have that back. “He’s a bit down ‘cuz he lost his mask.”

“He doesn’t look like a knight,” the tomboy pointed out, shuffling her orange hooves as she tried to peak under the hood.

“Hey, I wouldn’t do that,” Apple Bloom warned. Ser Vincent… didn’t care. He saw an orange thumb hook under his hood and didn’t bother to stop her as the new arrival lifted his hood off him. All three of them gasped as his jade eyes studied the two newcomers.

“That’s not a knight, Bloom, he ain’t even a pony!” The orange filly practically squawked as she retreated, large amethyst eyes scanning him. The pegasus was similar in height to Apple Bloom, perhaps a touch taller due to her wild purple mane cropping over from between her pointed ears. She backed up as Vincent regarded her coldly, not attempting to placate her.

“H-he, I mean, Applejack said he was a knight,” Apple Bloom joined her friend in backing up, being flanked by the young white filly staring back wide eyed. His attention turned to her and immediately she wilted.

Chalk white and sporting a bubble-gum pink and purple curling mane, the little unicorn had a potent jade stare, shades lighter than his own. She held her dainty hands to her maw, Ser Vincent being able to spot himself reflected in her eyes. Then again, maybe they thought he was just Vincent, the thing pretending to be a knight with a mauled face.

“Are you alright?” the little filly asked him.

“I’m perfectly fine, I just got into a spat with a few ogres… I’m really tired.” He managed a smile. That was nice of her to ask. Kids were always alright but given a few years and they’ll think ‘monster’ rather ‘minotaur’. The feeling was fleeting as he rolled his head to face the gutsy pegasus in the middle of the group, a light reprimanding scowl touching his face. “Miss Apple Bloom is correct, I am a knight.”

“But you’re not a pony,” she quickly pointed out.

“That is a very astute observation,” he retorted wearily.

“And you just finished fighting ogres?”

‘The echo on this platform is outstanding.’ He kept that thought to himself and instead managed a slow nod. To his brow-arching surprise, the tail wagging filly let her wings buzz in excitement as a large grin exploded onto her face.

“That’s so cool! Where are they now?”

“Crusaders!” All four on the platform turned to spot Miss Applejack strolling over, hand on Stetson as Miss Rainbow Dash swooped overhead to hover behind the girls. “Y’all mind giving me and Dash a little private time with Ser Vincent here?”

“Come on guys, meet and greets over,” Dash chipped in as she landed beside Apple Bloom before ushering them away.

“Awww!” The trio groaned before the orange filly piped up again, “Hey Dash, can we go see the ogres?”

“No can do, kiddo.” With that they rounded the corner of the station cabin, out of sight. That left him with Applejack for the moment. Joy.

“Is something wrong, Miss Applejack?” he asked whilst straining to look up to her. The light of the day hurt his eyes, but quite frankly, everything was hurting and aching by this point. He’s finally managed to look as bad his attire did.

“Well, I was just having the dandiest of days until a bunch of no good varmints showed up, roughly ogre sized,” she began with a smirk on her maw. She plopped herself down beside him, her hands resting on her lap as her tail shifted to her side.

“I hate it when that happens, too.” he replied, his tone mirthful and strained, a jarring contrast to the stoic face he bore. She shook her head and chuckled.

“Reckon you’d know what that’s like,” she continued as she flicked her hat to tilt up.

Miss Dash once again entered the scene from above, a spinning blur of cyan and rainbow that landed hard on the platform, dust kicked up around her hooves.

“Yeash, Rainbow, just land like the rest of the pegasi instead of trying to smash through the flooring like that.” Rainbow merely grinned as she dusted herself off.

“Hey, I have my daily awesomeness quota to meet, okay?” When her eyes met Vincent’s her ears wilted and her grin became sheepish. “So I gotta make up for times when I’m not cool, alright?”

“I’m sorry, there were things to apologise for?” Vincent asked, noting how she rubbed her arm in comfort.

“Yeah… about the, um…” She trailed of as she gestured around her muzzle. With a lazily rising brow, Vincent brought his left hand out of his pocket, more so to watch the mare freeze at the sight. He had five digits, ponies had three, their fingers twice as thick as his. He stroked his sensitive wounds, all having stopped bleeding by now.

“I recall that it was the ogres who did this to me,” he said, his sharp malachite eyes pointed at her.

“I mean about what I’ve said, in case I hurt your feelings or something.” He huffed when she winced, her hand resting on her brow. “That sounded like the worst apology ever.”

“I think what Rainbow wants to say is that she’s sorry she reacted like she did,” Applejack explained. He mechanically turned his head to face her, the mare scooting back as he bore a harsh stare towards her.

“You would have done the same.”

“Beg yer pardon?” she asked, brow touching hat.

“You looked protective of Miss Apple Bloom when I arrived at the counter this morning, so I do ponder how you would have reacted if you saw me without the mask,” he put forward, resting the back of his head against the wall the bench was against.

“Like heck I would have reacted,” she with a stern nod and slight frown. “I ain’t one to judge.” He shook his head, stopping to tilt it as he regarded her with a small smile. Thing was, ponies that said that didn’t know when they were doing it. Again, they’d casually call a minotaur a monster because that’s how they thought. He didn’t dislike them for it, ponies were what ponies were and he was what he was.

“Maybe, yeah, maybe you’re right, Miss Applejack,” he answered, though the way he said made it clear he wasn’t without doubt. His tone was off too, he was speaking monotonously, a far cry from the friendly voice she met early in the day.

“Anyway,” Dash said walking over to extend a furred hand. “I’m sorry for making a fuss about how you look.”

His gaze locked onto her hand for a second; his left hand writhed on the armrest, the notion of physically touching a stranger’s bare palm oddly unnerving. He easily pushed the sensation to the side to take her hand, his fingers imitating a pony’s to complete the shake. Her fur felt coarse, rugged and strangely befitting of the athletic mare.

Regardless of his disposition, he had to be polite and he did feel slightly better that he’d been apologised to. Not that he was offended in the first place. She didn’t know what he was to begin with.

“It’s weird…”

‘And good feelings gone now.’ His expression instantly soured, his jaw shifting as he stared up to her widening eyes. He dropped her grasp and leant back, folding his arms and releasing a disappointed sigh.

“No, I mean how soft and thin your fingers are,” she pressed, ears flat and tail limp as he stared flatly up to her.

“Miss Dash, it’s fine, please move on.” Once again his warm tone didn’t match his face, a brooding storm of an expression.

“Dash,” the farm mare interrupted with concern fringing her voice, “I think we’re all good to let it go right about now.” With a groan, Miss Dash leapt into the air, hovering at a point twice her height standing.

“Hey Vinny,” she said through the beat of her wings, “We cool, right? I ain’t leaving till we are.” A pregnant pause followed, ending when Applejack spotted the faintest of smiles sprout on his red lips.

“We certainly are, Miss Dash. I appreciate your efforts, I just like my personal space.”

“Yeah, I remember. Thanks for the save, big guy!” With that she bolted overhead, disappearing over the roof.

“And there’s my reason, personally, for coming.” Vincent turned to see Applejack bearing a soft smile of gratitude on her maw. “Just wanna say thank you kindly for saving me from the axe back there. We all appreciate what you did even if you don’t think we do.”

‘Even if you didn’t you would one day, the mask just helped make that day sooner rather than later. Still, the sentiment’s nice.’ He offered his gloved hand, the three digits making her stare at it longer than he’d would have liked. She gently grabbed hold seeing as he didn’t look to be in the right shape for a proper shake.

“Ain’t that uncomfortable?” she inquired, releasing his grasp as she rose to her hooves.

“It was strange at first but you get used to it.”

“Alright then partner, remember if you ever find yourself back in Ponyville be sure to stop off at Sweet Apple Acres!” She beamed as she headed off through the cabin door, “Be nice to properly give thanks with a good meal!” He gave a courteous nod but her expression fell when he kept his as neutral as possible.

‘I don’t want come back unless I’m needed here.’ He still kept the offer in the back of his mind. An overnight stay usually meant he’d have to eat in a secluded spot, a place he’d visit if he ever came back on leave, but at least with this he’d have some pleasant company.

“Ser Knight?” It was Miss Rarity who called to him from his far left, and alongside her was a meek Fluttershy holding first-aid kit against her stomach. The dazzling dress that danced between snow white and soft gold was ruffled and dirtied, the belt around her waist askew. He saw her exhale in relief, hand on chest.

“Thank the Fates, we thought you’d gone,” she added as the duo strolled over. Well, Miss Rarity sauntered as she kept one hand behind her back whilst Fluttershy rushed over. To his surprise she practically pounced onto the space besides him, planting the kit on her other side. She knelt onto the bench and reached for his face with both hands.

“Oh my, let’s get this cleaned up quick.”

His immediate reaction as to shirk away, wide-eyed shock stealing his face. She frowned, the maternal teal stare making him question his response.

“S-ser Vincent, you’re going to let me clean you up… right now, Mister. Ser. Mr Ser!” As adorable as the pegasus was, she was both stern and curt enough to get him to submit without knowing. He glanced to Rarity, who refused to meet his eye, looking down the oncoming track.

“Okay, this is going to sting just a liiiitle bit,” Fluttershy commented as she brought a soaked piece of cloth to his cheek. As the cleaning agents cut through the dirt and dried blood, Vincent hissed through his teeth and tightly gripped the left armrest with his exposed hand. “Sorry.”

“I- I’m fine.” He sighed as she shifted to the other side of his face, her own inching into view. Half her sweet face was obscured by a veil of mane, rosy pink but he could see the determination in her eye as she worked. Whenever the sterilising smell disappeared, wild berry seemed to tickle his olfactory sense.

“H-h-he’s fine t-too,” Fluttershy managed.

“Pardon?” Vincent replied, instinctively titling his head. It caused Miss Fluttershy’s face to scrunch up as she repositioned him to remain vertical.

“Mr Yig Jr. He’s sleeping well, I think.” She paused mid-dabbing of the swelling near his eye to look at him. He heard her gulp away her nerves, faint but there. “It was a while ago but he looked to be sleeping well. Um, how long will it last?”

He had to pause to answer this, his eyes losing focus as he tried to recall the exact details of his potions. Petrify? Minutes like it had done at three percent concentrate. No. Goo cast? Poly-tetra gualide reacted with the Agratar oils... No that’s not it. Finally he remembered.

“About five hours, more if the animal in question is already exhausted.” He shifted in his seat, leaning forward a Fluttershy dapped his nose. “Might drink a bottle when I get home.” Again he titled his head out of habit, blinking back into focus to see Fluttershy’s ears wilt as she scrunched her face once more.

“Will he be okay?” He asked, directly catching her attention. She paused to reach for a few plasters. The fact that they were pink was not a bother, no, the fact that they came with scarlet hearts made him scream inside his head. He didn’t voice this.

“He’s just very tired, what he needs is a good night’s rest and to take it easy from now on.” He let her get to work with applying the healing stickers where she decided. “Um, if you don’t mind me asking, wh-what are you exactly?”

“A Solaris Knight, Miss Fluttershy.” His reply was quick but he still turned away, his eyes falling onto Miss Rarity who still refused to look at him. He was more interested in what she held behind her back, though the look of regret did catch his eye once or twice.

“T-that’s not…” He didn’t have to hear the rest of what his impromptu doctor mumbled, and as he turned back he saw her packing up her kit. She didn’t make eye contact and looked crest fallen. A rock struck his gut hard; Vincent had no intention of returning to Ponyville unless he was needed, and he’d rather not be the cause of a mare looking as Fluttershy did right now. He couldn’t handle the guilt.

“I’m human,” he managed with a weathered voice. A tired smile, genuine, met her pleasantly surprised grin. She slid of the bench and stood on her hooves, resting the first-aid kit against her waist. She moved the long lock of hair out the way, her smile catching the light of day.

“There, all better.” She beamed as her tail swayed. Once again, cute. “Thank you, Vincent, for saving my friends.” He conceded a nod, his expression flattening through fatigue. Oddly, Fluttershy glanced to his side, above and past his head. He’d noticed but made no effort to investigate. Even thinking about the word ‘effort’ was a heroic feat. “Well I hope you get well soon, and thank you for the potion.”

Again he conceded an exaggerated nod, more of a bow, as she walked off the platform. That’s when he spotted Rarity facing him, hands still behind her back and her focus on the floor.

“Miss Rarity? Miss Fluttershy has just left, are you… not accompying her?” That earned a bitter chuckle.

“I’d rather not, for now at least. I owe you something, don’t I?” She shuffled on her hooves, biting her lip. “I don’t suppose I can ask a small favour could I?” Admittedly, he was interested. Cautious but curious.

“That depends on what you ask of me. I need to return back to Canterlot for my report.” She stepped closer, her hand pampering her couture. A few strands of mane and tail fell out of place but otherwise she was still a beautiful country belle.

“I need you to stand up. Only if you can! I… shouldn’t ask for you to strain yourself on my behalf. You know what, forget I asked.”

Her request was certainly odd and off putting but not beyond him at the moment. He eyed how she still bit her lip. Slowly, like a veridian tower rising up, he wound up standing tall before strolling unsteadily towards Miss Rarity. A simple sit down wasn’t enough but it did some good in quelling his protesting pains.

When he was close enough she flinched, she did only come to shoulder height. She may have seen his boots enter her field of vision.

“I’m deeply sorry for how I reacted, Ser Vincent, you didn’t deserve that.” He knew he didn’t. He didn’t say anything. “You’ve always been kind, considerate and polite above all things to me. You did nothing to warrant my behaviour back then, especially after saving my life as the fine gentlestallion you are.”

Man. Gentleman. He wasn’t a pony, and there were aspects to being human that he learnt from his parents. He was a man, not a stallion, but quite frankly asking the whole world to change their vocabulary for his sake was pointless; asking Rarity to make the correction was petty.

Still, it’s not as if he could blame her. She was surprised by something that she hadn’t expected to see, and he was in the worse state to be seen. Yes, it hurt, it always did, but in the end it didn’t withhold him from his mission. She was safe and that mattered.

“I hope you can accept my apology,” she said, still looking down to the ground. The guilt and regret was in her voice, so he could forgive her. Ponies were what ponies were, and given all the good ones, it made it difficult the actually hate them. Miss Rarity, and the others, certainly belonged to that group.

She then revealed what she had withheld from him and it left him stupefied.

She held his mask, fully intact save for missing irregular pieces. They were small and irregular enough to be irrelevant. Joy surged throughout his body, warming it all and pooling in his heart. His elation lessened the aches, the sting of a delighted smile fading quickly.

“You’re certainly an amazing mare,” he said warmly, reaching for the mask. “How did you--” Upon taking it into his hands it was then that he finally glanced to her face, and his stunned expression was frozen.

“Sometimes…” Sapphire eyes stared back, studious and sparkling. They were so intense that he felt paralysed. This is why he didn’t like ponies getting too close and especially without the mask. They were so expressive that their stares were viciously potent, so much so that he couldn’t react as she landed her hand on top of his exposed one.

“It’s probably one of few spells I know besides telekinesis, a handy little gem of surprising usage.”

Fur as soft as silk glided across the back of his hand, the sensation shocking him. It moved on, up along his arm. His breathing picked up, his mind lost to the sudden onset of anxiety shaking his heart. Wisps of violet were in the air, quickly inhaled. Though he tried to keep a level face, a tint of fear touched his features. He finally managed to break her gaze when she reached his jaw.

Softly, like snow falling, her hand slid across the bristled surface, mindful of the plasters and cuts as it touched cheek. He was wound uptight as she cupped him, the thumb gently stroking a soothed bruise. The sting earned a hiss and brought him back to his senses, his hand tightening into a fist kept by his side.

“You have such striking green eyes, Ser knight,” she said as a scowl formed on his face. A coy grin returned to her lips.

“Though you’d looked better with a shave, if you don’t mind me saying.” Those were dangerous words as she found out. That fearsome glare surfaced briefly as he raised a hand to gently push her hand away, her ears wilting as her smile strained.

“Ah, I forgot your no touching policy, forgive me,” she said, stepping back. He noted how her eyes were also darting to the side. He’d handle things a step at a time, starting here.

“Miss Rarity,” he began, a voice much friendlier than what his face wold suggest he actually felt, “its fine.”

“I’m may sound like a broken record but, forgive me, dear. You don’t look like you believe it is.”

She was just as surprised as he was it seemed when he took a look of confusion. Ser Vincent couldn’t believe it, he wasn’t actually glaring at the lady was he? No, he couldn’t be. Was that why she was wilting under his stare? He thought he was simply… looking at her, maybe a light frown on his face.

‘Have I been wearing this for so long?’

The mask! He could hide again, safe from the stares, free to work without hindrance. It rose up in his hands as he brought it up to him, sliding it neatly back into place. A cool sensation draped over his face, a familiar weight comforting him as he reached around to tighten the straps behind his head.

“Wait!” He froze mid-process and looked to Rarity. She bit her lip and stared back, seemingly desperate.

“You… You do forgive me, don’t you?”

“Of course,” he said with an honest merry tone. He wanted to continue fixing the straps but as soon as he spotted the troubled look of the lady, something stopped him. She held onto herself in a comforting embrace.

“Can you say it without the mask?”

…

“Yes.”

Slowly, he unclipped the one clasp he had managed to fasten and lowered the mask. He kept his eyes tightly shut, his expression mixed with emotions. Finally, as he opened his eyes, malachite meeting sapphire, he settled on one look: disheartened. And finally, his voice matched.

“I forgive you, Miss Rarity.” He bore no smile. “I would like for you to forget it.” That was it.

“Thank you,” she replied with a sweet smile.

He turned away, facing the train cabin as he fixed the mask into place. She saw that all three straps converged to the centre of behind his head, atop the short hair. He then pulled his hood up, tilting his head down to study his exposed left hand before pocketing it.

His attention was drawn to Princess Twilight Sparkle as she stepped out onto the platform.

“Rarity, could you please give the knight and me some privacy please?” Upon the princess’ request Rarity departed, a smile gracing her features as she nodded. She glanced back at him, raising a dainty hand to wave back.

“Farewell, Ser knight, I’m glad we sorted this out in time.” It seemed she didn’t want to add anything else as she quickly slipped into cabin. It was then that he spotted what had been taking everypony’s attention before: Miss Pinkie Pie.

She pressed her face against the window, her flattened expression of ear-fallen sorrow squished against the plane of glass. Bright blue eyes bore into him but at least with the mask he was shielding himself from her. He couldn’t tell what expression he now held.

She leant back as Princess Twilight walked over, waving sheepishly before fogging up the glass with her breathe. He tilted his head as she began to write a one word message: sorry. With both the ‘R’s reversed.

“What is she apologising for?” She hadn’t said anything against him, to his recognition anyhow. He waved back with uncertainty using the gloved hand.

“Pinkie’s just covering all the bases. Trust me, the last thing she wants is for anypony to dislike her.” The Princess came to a stop past him. He turned to find her smiling fondly down the track. “If it weren’t for the girls she’d be out here right about now, eagerly trying to make amends for something she didn’t even do.”

“I don’t believe I could have a problem with Pinkie Pie.”

“Who do you have a problem with?” Princess Twilight turned to face him, revealing the letter he’d brought earlier that day in her hands. The scholar stared back as the evening breeze rolled in, playing with the paper edge and her tail, reading him as he was. No. He knew there was more to that stare and it was something to do with the letter.

“Seeing as everypony apologised, though it was a rather minor thing, I don’t have a problem with anypony.” He offered a shrug, tilting his head. She closed her eyes and shook her head.

“You really don’t think all this is extreme?” She pressed, folding her arms under her bust and moving closer to him.

“I informed you as to why I choose this appearance.” he said, fighting to remain standing. He should really be on one knee right about now, but he doubted he could get back up. As much as he wanted to request sitting on the bench, he had an appearance to hold up. Some dignity was better than none. Princess Twilight simply scowled at him.

“Yeah, this is your idea of camouflage that is insultingly brilliant purely because it worked, I get that.” Her terse reply made him tilt his head. Maybe she wasn’t happy that she couldn’t see through it. Then again, he wasn’t trying to pretend nothing was off, rather, that he was stallion in general, suspicious or not. “I’m guessing if it wasn’t for the letter I’d never have known you were human.”

“Ponies would know I’m a knight rather than focus on me not being a pony.” Once again she shook her head, sighing. She glanced to the letter, the one he guess was for her eyes only.

“Well I guess there’s no telling you why this whole thing is silly.” Ser Vincent stepped forward.

“With all due respect, ma’am, I doubt you’ve attempted to prevent riots when both sides see you as an outsider.” He thumbed towards himself, instantly feeling lightheaded but pressing on. “Yeah, today was bad, yeah I did a whole lot of scary things, but I’ve had to work tiredly for nothing because apparently I was worse than whatever ponies were fighting over in the first place.”

“The thing I’ve dedicated my life to? Ponies don’t want because it’s me who’s protecting them,” he added, a bitter tone merging with anger. He let it go. No point wasting his energy. Vincent shook his head, remembering who he was talking to. “But I’m not one to mope, I adapt, I then function with the utmost efficiency.”

“That’s clearly doing well for you,” Princess Twilight pointed out. She shifted her weight to one side, still scrutinizing him with light worry in her stare. “Face it, you got lucky today, Ser Vincent. I don’t know exactly how your magic works, purely because there’s no books on you, but it can’t be good for you to both over-exert yourself and then trigger a defense mechanism that sends your body into overdrive. I can still see you shaking!”

It was all true. He heard Rarity scream twice, meaning that the ogre missed once. Why did he have a chance at all? Because Vincent was too weak to stand. Why was his world nothing but sensations of burning nerve impulses and heavy muscles, his breathing tight and hot, and his motions sluggish? Because reality had caught up to him and his found difficulty in standing before the princess even now.

Yet, he would continue to do so.

“You know the details about my ability?” He inquired, straining to tilt his head. She nodded.

“Yes, and I must admit, I’m surprised Blueblood could write a competent summary—the fact that he could get the key details in whilst adding his own comments about me, your wardrobe, and the entire issue boggled my mind.” She chuckled to herself, awkwardly trailing off thanks to Ser Vincent’s blank stare. Clearing her throat she continued.

“It’s a supercharged adrenaline rush tied closely to the fight or flight response triggered through fear and shock, meaning that it’s a more instinctive type of magic, correct?” He offered a nod. That was the gist of if, except ever since learning his little trick he’d been able to cut it off or learn to greatly control its influence when active. Hence why not everything that startles him sets him off.

“But… it can cause you to burn out.”

“Correct, though I’d imagine even ponies constantly on adrenaline rushes all day would become ill too. I do believe I’m going to suffer from the symptoms shortly.” Mana burnout started rough, but that was simply knocking on the door and introducing itself. He’d be bed ridden in the morning.

“So don’t you see the dangers of pushing yourself too far continuously?” Princess Twilight asked with concern touching her voice. Oh, she’d suffered from mana burn out before, mostly when she was still under the tutelage of Princess Celestia. He paused to close his eyes beneath the mask. The light was starting to hurt.

“I’m fine, really. I push myself as far as I need to, and try to reduce that need. Why has His Majesty even bothered to write in the first place?” Maybe he wasn’t supposed to know. If the princess saw fit she didn’t have to dignify him with a response and he’d accept that. He still had to ask.

“He wanted me to be prepared for you.” She folded the letter and tucked it under her arm, a weary shake of the head matching her tired stare. Another thick silence hung over the air as she turned away when a distant train whistle could be heard. “About how you are and behave.”

Ser Vincent, although hearing her, had his focus on the train rushing down the tracks to meet them. A powerful locomotive, with steam clouds puffing out as it trundle into the station. A colourful body of carriages followed the mighty pink engine, the massive pistons hissing as it grinded to a halt. Immediately one of the carriages dropped its wall onto the platform, a small contingent of royal guards marching out.

Nigh identical save for the leading stallion of the band of six earth ponies; like the others he was a crisp white, chiselled marble cut tight and framed with golden armour. Hoof boots clinked with every step, their immaculate tabards fastened around the waist, portraying Celestia’s mark. But the leading sergeant, rather than a simple guard helm revealing a muzzle and blue eyes also bore a red plumb arcing overhead.

Ser Vincent raised a hand and stole his attention, the guard bringing his small company to a halt. He took to a knee and the others soon followed.

“Princess Sparkle, an honour to meet you, your highness.”

Twilight was still new to the whole princess status, and the formalities it would bring. It was now slightly awkward to visit the castle back in Canterlot when guards that had been silent all her studious life began talking to her in the same respected reverences as they had to for her mentor. Once again, it was odd this morning when Ser Vincent did it, and now the feeling was multiplied seven times over.

“Ah, please, t-there’s no need.” Her eyes darted to the knight beside her, his slouching form and heavy mask facing down upon the guard. “Arise.”

With that the sergeant rose up tall, matching Vincent’s height. His subordinates followed shortly after, though when he noticed the knight he snapped to a salute. Vincent met him in kind with his gloved fist on heart

“An honour to meet you too, Ser Vincent. I was not aware that you were operating in southern Equestria.” With that, Vincent spotted a few of the squad mutter his name under their breath, every last one of them quickly following in their leader’s hoof-steps and snapping to a salute.

“I only thought our knight commanders kept tabs on us.” His reply came with a tilt of the head, an action that reminded him to keep things short. There was a pain in his neck he wished he hadn’t become aware off. He dropped the fist from his heart before the sergeant lowered his salute, respectful formalities complete. The guard then smiled.

“Knights make for the best stories to tell, yours in particular.”

“Well sorry to disappoint you but you’ll find yourself carrying back several crates of weapons,” Ser Vincent said as he took a sluggish step forward. “Nothing grand I’m afraid.”

“We’ll make our way to the town hall, then. I await your command there, Princess.”

With a weary step, the knight began to migrate towards the lead carriage, stopping only to address the princess. “They’ll handle things from here on out, Princess. Including the newer additions that will be sent to Canterlot. Farewell, I’m sorry things turned out the way they did.

“Are you coming back?” In the pause birthed between them the sergeant had begun moving his troops as silently as possible. It only served to amplify the rustle of armour as the princess gazed at the knight.

“I go where I’m needed. I have a wall back home of all the places I’d like to revisit.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“…I have no intention of coming back unless I am needed here, no.”

Princess Twilight’s tired thoughts escaped through her sigh, her gaze now similar to when he first left the tree-library. There it was: fate-damned, hubris cracking, infuriating pity. For the past five years he didn’t need it, same as five years prior to that. It always made him… doubt. His mind had to be steeled and resolute, not clouded by uncertainty. He was content without pity, thank you very much.

The difference now though, as he moved on, was that she didn’t have that smile one saved for happy endings.

“Then goodbye, Ser Vincent. I do hope you reconsider.”

He had to shuffle along at first to build up speed, akin to how a train slowly creeps out a station. As was the case, for someone like Ser Vincent, reputation and respect were very important tools. How he carried himself, how well executed a mission was, and how beneficial the results were, generated respect amongst his peers. This in turn built his reputation, a name that had spread in some criminal circles as something to be feared.

Unable to simply raise his leg and enter the forward passenger car, Ser Vincent instead supported his form by slumping against the doorframe. His limbs were starting to stiffen, a bolt of anguish shooting through his joints as they moved. He rarely burnt out but at the same time he rarely relied on his ability as heavily and as often as he had this month.

He needed rest. Not worry. Never pity.

“Wait!”

The sugary cry drew his attention, slowly given his fatigue. Pinkie Pie was racing down the station, curled mane and tail whipping like a strawberry flame in the wind. She skidded —a remarkable distance he noted— to a halt before him. She had to stop herself from bumping into him, balancing on her hoof tips and flailing a hand in an attempt to avoid contact. He smiled faintly beneath the hood and mask.

‘A masquerade ends with dusk, Miss Pie.’ With that thought he reached out with a shaky, exposed hand and held her steady by the shoulder.

“Oh? Thanks, Vinny!” she exclaimed with a merry grin. It touched her eyes naturally enough, both looking back bright and kind. “You weren’t gonna leave without this, right?” Stiffly he lowered his gaze to find her holding a sweet scented gift, wrapped in napkins. The hand that steadied her descended from her shoulder to the slice of cake.

“I kept it for you just like you asked. Well, Shy helped during the whole ogre thing, but other than that, totally guarded the cake with my life!” Upon taking the treat, her furred-fingers tickled his palm, startling him but not enough to show. “Just like you wanted. Now you have something to eat on the ride home!”

This town… it wasn’t right. This was not how things went. Not once, in the distant beginning, in the hours’ worth of total time spent without his mask far from home after the start, not once were ponies like this. It didn’t matter that he’d helped them, they were scared and cautiously curious, eager to be rid of him. He was okay with that now because that’s how they were. He accepted it. He’d beaten it. He found a way to be content.

Gryphons spent centuries fighting their stigmas. Minotaurs in decades. Both were still said to be monsters, not behind their backs, but as casual remarks. Not because they were but because they were different. Zebras were in the same boat, albeit one that were reaching the same shores that these ponies walked on, that island of equality.

So where did the world’s only Equestrian-human stand? Between all of them and the real monsters. Where else?

“Thank you, Pinkie Pie.” His voice was soft, low as all thoughts were on energy conservation. He managed to look her back in the eye, it was only polite to face her when expressing his sincere gratitude.

“I look forward to it.” Her smile broadened.

“Great, you have to tell me your favourite for the next time you visit.” He blinked as she stared back expectantly, blinking a few times before he decided to humour her.

“I like banoffee pie.” Moments later it hit him that she desired a cake, not pie. She didn’t seemed bothered in the slightest.

“Gotcha, Vinny!” She then brought her fingers together, a sheepish look taking her as they were repeatedly bumped into one and other. “Say, I have another question.” He strained to tilt his head this time, as he did to extend one final answer.

“And what would that be?”

“Is the tail real?” He didn’t have the energy to follow her eyes, but managed a faint chuckle.

“It’s an old mop head, painted brown whilst… trimmed and… each strand is individually preserved…” He found himself having difficulty in speaking. It was all so exhausting. He swallowed a dry throat. “It’s attached to the back of my belt and feeds through. I need it both flexible and fire retardant.”

To his surprise she bit her lip, cheeks swelling to burst before she snorted with laughter.

‘I suppose it is silly.’

“Goodbye, Pinkie Pie. I thank you for the cake.” He heaved himself through the threshold, looking back as Pinkie waved.

“See you real soon, Vinny!”

‘Unlikely, Miss Pie, unlikely.

He found the nearest private cabin, and in one fell swoop, slipped through the door, locked it, and slumped across the hard bench until he rested against the wall. The sudden weight caused the stylised seat to groan, the stuffy space toxifying the air he breathed. With a lurch the train pull back, vibrations reaching from the spinning metal wheels to the cabin floor his world weary boots were planted on. A scream of the engine, whistling a roar, signalled the end of his mission. He became drowsy through the familiarity but managed to gaze out of the curtained window.

As the train began to crawl out the station he saw them all, the Elements of Harmony waving him off. Pleasant farewells passed through the glass window. Slowly the locomotive accelerated, the heavy ‘chuga-chuga’ quickening.

The mares walked alongside, Miss Rarity lifting her dress to keep up as Miss Dash easily coasted alongside in the air. Applejack waved her Stetson, Fluttershy daintily waving her hand. Pinkie lead the movement, hopping along and seemingly attempting to shake her arm off with a great vigour. Finally, Princess Twilight Sparkle walked along, waving back but still not smiling.

He leant away from the window, though admittedly touched as he had been by previous thanks on previous missions. This time… something was off. He placed the cake on the table before him, resting both his hands on either side.

With his mind fogging with fatigue, he couldn’t remember why he was bothering to do this. He lazily glanced between his pale left before craning his focus to the gloved right. He felt the uncomfortable warmth of the cabin freshly between the exposed five digits, fingers aching as they twitched like the final spurt of life through sand tarantula legs. The right hand was something he was more accustomed to: his protective three-digited shell that, though time ravaged and burnt, remained.

With a wince and a groan, Ser Vincent gave up and leant back to enjoy some sleep. A blissful slumber took him as soon as his eyes shut.

Author's Notes:

Epilogue coming soon, thank you for reading this far. Please like, favourite, comment, do a little dance, and shake it like a Polaroid picture.