As the eldest sibling, Rarity had duties to take on, mainly looking after her younger sibling whilst they parents did a bit of globetrotting. Not that she did mind; with such responsibilities thrusted upon her, she had come to forge a sisterly bond, strengthened in the past couple of years in particular. It was fun to be somepony a younger pony looked up to. Hence her growing concern.

Though not in a full blown panic, anxiety bubbled at the back her mind. It wasn’t the first time Sweetie Belle returned later than expected after a day of crusading, but it was dark outside, and it was raining particular heavily. She could no longer distract herself with a light salad and with a few designs for the knight.

Her nerves got to her when she remember her little sister left behind her rain coat. Rarity had been chewing her lip as she worked the desk, top button undone and with her tail twitching constantly. She had abandoned her glasses a while ago and the paper bin for sloppy designs was beginning to over flow. After another whine escaped her, she magically scrunched up her current drawing and tossed onto the paper pyramid beside the ornate desk. Most of her designs were done in a heartbeat: simple shirts of a broad spectrum of colours, but mostly green and gold. She attempted a few more interesting designs, involving waist coats and the like.

“Where is that filly?” She followed a sweet scent behind her, looking towards the small alcove that serves kitchen-dining area combo. Her spread of spiced coconut lentil soup and vegetable lasagne would be lukewarm by now, the cherry pie she could smell causing the lady's stomach to groan much to her embarrassment. She wouldn’t allow herself a bite just yet, however. Not without Sweetie. She glanced to the design before her.

‘Stoic concern burned through those golden eyes after he saved her, a face different and simply… there before her causing a cry of surprise and fear to escape. Cheeks became taught, thin lips receded, fangs bared beneath a furious brow, eyes softening between the two.’

She brought a delicate hand to her pert muzzle, massaging the bridge of her snout with her eyes closed. The door blew open, startling the mare as wind and rain pelted the welcome mat.

“Rarity!? I’m sorry I’m late home!” Sweetie Belle yelled. Swivelling on her chair, Rarity was prepared to scald the little filly but instead pointed a confused stare as she trudged in.

Sweetie wore a familiar viridian long coat much too big for her, a three inch gap between the now wet floor revealing white hooves stained with mud. The childish muzzle and protruding horn were dusted with dirt and black stains matted her ivory fur. The sleeves were far too long and hung limp as she pulled the timber hood back, revealing a sheepish grin on Sweetie’s maw.

“Sorry.”

“Sweetie Belle?” Rarity kneeled before her sister, looking aghast at the filthy dishevelled state of Sweetie. “What in Equestria happened?” she asked, dabbing a black spot. “Is this ash? Oh, darling, what have you burnt down this time?”

“Of course you’re her big sister. I only ever bump into nine ponies in this town.”

As soon as she turned her head she realised why the tattered coat was familiar. With heavy steps Ser Vincent entered the boutique, hydra-esque armour glistening with a coat of rain. He closed the door and she saw the back of his head exposed, hair and snug fitting mask straps on view.

“Ser Vincent? What happened?” She saw him sigh and lean his mask’s forehead against the door, his body shuddering and slumping as he showed reluctance to face her.

“You failed to mention that, Miss Belle.” He turned his head to the side, malachite eyes honing in on the blinking filly.

“Really?” Sweetie said, momentarily perplexed by her own forgetfulness. “Are you sure?”

“Um, excuse me?” Sweetie’s attention was stolen by the less than impressed looking fashionista, who regarded both parties with her arms folded beneath her buxom chest. “Could somepony please explain why my little sister is in such a state?” She pointed an arched brow at the knight when he chuckled warmly.

“Well, Miss Belle?” he said turning to face Rarity whilst gesturing to the filly. He then tilted his head back, revealing his clothed neck rather than his exposed top. Helped being tall. His tone was friendly, casual, “She did say somepony, after all.”

And so Sweetie did. Over the course of Sweetie’s regaling of ‘the knight and the crusader’, the filly had become seated on Rarity’s fainting couch, who also joined her on the plush velvet seat. Ser Vincent opted to lurk by the rounding wall, his back to it. His half-charred coat was being seen to by magically suspended hairdryers—an absurd amount for one mare, he noted—a courtesy bestowed onto him by the generous Rarity, whether he wished it or not. She tried in vain to scrub a few stains of ash away but it was a wasted effort.

The coat was long dry before Rarity decided to stop, her attention drawn to riveting tale of her sister and the knight’s heroism in face of timber wolves. She was captivated by the abilities the knight displayed, from his potion craft to his feats of strength. Vague and animated gestures spilled from the filly about dozens of wolf packs, all at least as tall as her. How the knight acted with such swift speed, herculean strength, and how he toppled the massive alpha timber wolf.

Confirmation of exaggeration was difficult to get out of the knight as he lurked to the side, stoic and statuesque. She notice how he folded his arms and stood with boots heel to heel, tall and proud, but as the conversation went on it became obvious that he was simply reserved. Yet, an important fact that she couldn’t help notice, it seemed whenever Sweetie Belle talked about being afraid or how troublesome she was supposedly, he’d step in and dismiss the thought entirely. Barn sized wolves? He corrected to an actual height in meters. Sweetie Belle drinking all of a potion that let her breathe out fire? ‘Mistakes are easy to make.’ Rarity was equally as supportive and enthralled by Sweetie’s decisive moment in the event.

“And then I breathed this humungous breathe of fire, it was amazing!” she exclaimed with leg swinging excitement. “It was like pffffff… fwooomph! Sweetie spread her arms wide, grinning up to her older sister.

“I assume then that our knight made a narrow escape, judging by the scorch marks on the back of his coat?” Rarity interjected with a frown. She glanced to the knight who shook his head, shocking her slightly.

“Coat’s good against anything beasts spit at me, from fiery, caustic, even to freezing; it would take the flame of an adult dragon to burn through.” He shrugged. “Armours good too.”

If he was honest, he had more faith in his coat than Sweetie Belle not roasting him alive. At worst he broke out in a sweat. His knighthood had married his alchemy skills in order to better his combat abilities and improve his own body if necessary.

“It would seem the wolves were doomed from the start,” Rarity said with a smile.

“And then we bumped in Apple Bloom before heading over to Zecora’s,” Sweetie continued, “But then I realised how late it had gotten and then it started raining, an I’m really really sorry for that.” As a natural defence mechanism, Sweetie fired of the puppy dog eyes and pout, complete with trembling lip.

Rarity sighed deeply, looking to the knight with a defeated grin. She took a moment to study his reserved form briefly. His grip on himself tightened in a subtly protective manner under her gaze. Was her attention so threatening that he felt cornered? Rarity could see where he was exposed and found it was hardly worth mentioning. Her smile softened, gratitude twinkling as she looked into his eyes.

“Sweetie, I believe you should take a quick bath,” Rarity said sternly, “You’ve been through a lot, mostly dirt and ash to be exact.” Sweetie’s ears perked up. “After that we’ll have a late supper, but not too late. Ladies need their beauty sleep after all.”

“You’re not mad at me?” Sweetie asked, tail curling around her ankle. Rarity immediately gave her sister a tight hug.

“Oh, I was worried sick. I’m just glad that you’re okay.”

Ser Vincent couldn’t smile as he looked away from the all too familiar touching scene. How many loved ones had he reunited after they were lost to an unforgiving wilderness? How many were trapped by their fellow pony? How many were kids? How many times were his fault? Unlike the other times he could say this was a first. A knight had one priority: protect the innocent. What happened to today was the opposite of that and it choked his pride. He should have just said no.

A scurry of hooves drew his attention, the lighter set belong to Miss Belle as she skipped upstairs. Before he could react, Miss Rarity guided his gaze to her with her primary finger on his muzzle. She held a devilish smirk to his surprise.

“Shall we get started?

...

...

Designs. She wished to discuss designs, and to his bewilderment, he went along with it. Without his coat he felt exposed and she wouldn’t relent, picture after picture, every so often sent over from where she sat at the desk.

“Given your tastes, I believe long sleeves are just your thing, and I know you said earthly hues were your preference, but maybe we could try a broader spectrum.” She was studying the damage to the coat, handkerchief keeping ash from tainting her pristine fur. Another design was sent over.

He took hold of another design and saw a trend: the body was without hands, feet, or even a head—but it was a rather dapper looking disfigured body none the less.

“Dare say, should you attend any formal event, I'm thinking white shirt, emerald double breasted waist coat and gold tie would be fitting. Pardon the simplicity, but other things plagued my mind this evening. See, I would embroil a filigree motive on the left side, perhaps a shade lighter… darker? As for the tie, I’m thinking satin…” She trailed off and spun in her chair, hand on cheek and contemplation burrowing her brow. “Hmmm. Satin is a tough material to care for. I’d hope you give it the care it needs.”

Still rather dumbfounded, he looked to the design, then back to the impassioned eyes of a candle-lit Rarity before shaking his head. He placed the paper aside onto the neatly growing pile.

“Begging your pardon, Miss Rarity, but I don’t understand what’s happening.”

Rarity blinked momentarily before tittering, a sound he linked to a distant wind chime. She sauntered over after brushing her skirt down.

“We’re discussing a new image for you.” Rarity said, taking a seat opposite the knight to entice comfort. With a quick burst of wispy magic she held the stack of design on her lap and arched a brow. “What else did you think we were doing?”

When he faced her he saw an amused grin on her angelic features. She was gorgeous in her own right, exhuming a refined charisma as subtly as her lilac perfume. Snow white fur glowed in the surrounding candle light, regal purple mane and eyes dazzling, every expression hospitable, sincere, and pleasant. Beautiful.

“I assumed I would be apologising profusely for endangering Miss Belle,” he said with honest confusion. Unless of course this was to be his punishment: though he was brought up to wear clothes he wasn’t an avid fan of shopping for them. Mostly because of the whole ‘seen-without-his-armour’ paranoia. ‘Dear Fates above, how can I be so pathetic in this regard?’ It never bothered him until now.

“I’m terribly sorry. I never should have considered it from the start. I heard that ponies avoided it for goodness sake and still went along with it.” His voice was less muffled, the soft baritone lacking the faint echo.

Rarity scooted closer as he brought a hand to his nose, smirking as he stopped the pointless act.

“I had time to think it over whilst I looked over your coat,” she started with slow nod and with eyes darting to the desk, “and I concluded that, although it was dreadfully dangerous, things simply got out of hand when Sweetie forgot the way.” Leaning back she spied a buckle on the back of his head that kept the mask snugly fitted by the straps. “I suspect that Apple Bloom guides her friend to Zecora’s safely, and Sweetie assumed she could remember the way.”

He was quiet.

“Thank you, Ser Knight.” Rarity said in hopes that he gratuitous words would reach him. She was honestly thankful that Sweetie Belle returned safely and was perturbed by the knight being as wound up as a fresh bolt of cloth.

“You really shouldn’t be thinking much of it, Rarity. I brought her to a dangerous place and she almost paid for it.” He struggled to raise his left arm as he turned both palms up before him. The bracer was on his right and he turned to display the Solaris Knight’s badge: a golden sun with a platinum guard’s helm staring back at him, judging him, edges slashed but the core undamaged. He grunted as he dropped both arms onto his knees. “That is the opposite of what knight’s do.”

He flinched when Rarity rested a hand on his knee, tensing and stirring a deep ache in his injured arm and thigh. His nerves burned at her touch. Stiffly, he looked to Rarity who stared back with a saddened scowl.

“If I know my sister, and had she decided to venture in to Everfree alone, then I’d likely have sombre news that I couldn’t bear. I'm fine with a filthy sister and floors, thank you.” She frowned as he, gently as always, brushed her hand away. “Ser Vincent, I understand you feel guilty, and in an accidental way, maybe you are, but everything’s fine now and I don’t hold this against you.”

She continued, hand on heart. “I am deeply thankful that you protected my sister, and I’d hate for this to bother you. I’m just happy she’s home safe.” She blinked before giggling into her hand. “And thank you for offering your coat. I would hate to find that she caught a cold in the morning.”

Steadily, he tilted his head as he regarded this strange mare. She had every right to be furious, to curse him and demand he stay away. But she forgave him. She was generous and it unnerve him. The fault began with him and his incompetence… why didn’t she hold it against him?

“You know she gets into all sorts of trouble like that,” Rarity said with a conspirator’s smirk.

“You’re kidding.” His words were sceptical and deadpanned.

She nodded in response. “Oh certainly. One time she attempted fire juggling with her friends.” He huffed in amusement as she rolled her eyes in fondness. “On the bright side there were no more circus base crusades after that. I believe the next task was being shot out of a cannon!”

“Crusades?” he inquired, keeping his head atilt.

Rarity nodded and patted her hip. “For their cutie mark, dear, she’s a late bloomer but she’s having fun with it.”

“I noticed but… seems a bit far.” Farfetched more like. He was particularly worried about casual way she spoke about this, as if mentioning the weather.

“Oh, Sweetie and her friend do all sorts of bizarre activities to earn their marks. Usually ending in disaster.” She shrugged with a warm smile. “I would prefer her trying for safer talents, but…” Rarity’s expression didn’t falter as such, but she looked to her polished hooves with a distant look, her smile more loving. “I’d rather have her laugh and keep trying, than quit and cry. For now they can have some fun and I'll be here if she ever needs me.”

For a while Vincent was silent, contemplating on what to say. His words soon came easy enough after one glance towards her, and he even felt the faintest of grins on his own lips.

“She’s lucky to have you in her life, Lady Rarity.” Surprise took her as he continued. “I’m sure with your guidance she’ll grow into wonderful mare, if she’s anything like you at least.” He leant back and glanced up to the ceiling, “You’re both kind, compassionate, strong willed, and unfortunately for me, persuasive.”

“What wonderful things to say—thank you, Ser Vincent,” Rarity said with heartfelt gratitude, combing her mane with a hand. “It’s nice to know I’m in your good books, so know you’re in mine.” She then donned a mocking scowl, “so long as you explain the ‘unfortunate’ part.”

He shakily rose to his feet, wincing as his thigh acted up, and migrated towards his coat. She joined beside him soon after, watching him delicately hold the charred arm of coat as if it was the injured limb of an animal. Thankfully the botched shoulder repair job he’d done himself was long lost, though she kept that quiet. Alas, it exposed the old bite marks on his right shoulder, the newer additions being short streaks to one side that manage to tear through.

“You convinced me to take off my mask once…” He turned soft spoken as he looked down to her. “She got me to leave the house to meet a stranger." He caught sight of the waste paper bin, and the pyramid of crumbled designs within. “Been busy?”

Rarity shared his glance before nodding her head with a wry grin. “Well, a lovely stallion just moved in across the way so I thought a nice gift would welcome him. This certain stallion is very considerate, polite, and a knight would you believe?” She leant back onto the desk, pinning the coat down under her hand, tail lashing. Eyes met, sapphire and emerald. “Very accomplished fellow no doubt, very refined in taste, troubling is, he is incredibly shy.”

“A dressmaker’s nightmare, I believe.” Ser Vincent added in order to humour the mare.

She scoffed, feigning offence.

“Excuse me, but I am no humble dressmaker.” She proudly put her hand on her heart, dramatically planting the back of her other hand on her forehead. “I am an artiste, called upon by Princess Cadence herself for the wedding dress and by the Canterlot elite to fulfil their chic fabric needs.” She pointed a playful glare his way before shooting her nose to the ceiling. “Bragging does not befit a lady but it is unwise to dismiss my own accomplishments.” A smouldering smile set on her lips.

He raised his hands in defence. “Pardon my short sighted nature.” Vincent inclined his head in an apologetic manner before resting his hands on the coat. “The reason why ponies become tailors is a mystery to me.” He reflexively tilted his head as he gave her clothes a curious once over. “I believe I have reasonable need of clothing, what about you?”

She dropped the acting for a moment, offering a ghost of a smile, eyes sparkling with a passion brought forth.

“Darling, we all want to be seen for who we are.” She took on a wistful look, dreamily looking ahead at nothing. “A summer dress to perfect the stroll, her stylish bonnet shading her eyes. A cocktail dress of silver and blue, bolstering the courage of a young mare before her lover.” She gazed to her hands, picturing fabric flowing between her fingers. “A suit, starting with the shirt. Loose fitting or taut? Buttoned and cuffed? Professional or informal?” She regarded the knight with a studious glance and a soft grin. “Some ponies just need help making the right impression, to feel comfortable.”

His silence didn’t stop her passionate speech but it was saddening the longer she looked at his current form. ‘How long has he been like this?’ She rested a hand atop his, feeling human fingers tense within the confines of the pony glove. He never took his eyes off her.

“You know what I see? A soul that hardly lets anypony in, keep those who aren’t close at arm’s length. He’s tough, sturdy, enduring but not honest with himself, and disappears whenever nopony is watching. Dependable, aloof, but self-sacrificing.” She offered a soft smile. “He then speaks and I get to know him as more than that. What, I can’t say yet, but that’s what clothes do, dear heart. They appeal to somepony else.” She gave the frozen hand a small squeeze, feeling it relax. “What’s one thing you want the world to know about Ser Vincent?”

Quiet contemplation took him as he simply stared at her ivory hand. She slowly felt the tension dissipate until her fingers interlocked with gloved ones. He then vigorously shook his head. He remembered her touch on his cheek, how it chilled him to the bone.

“I’m not a monster,” he said, brushing her hand aside, “but I can be.”

“I don’t believe that,” she simply responded, shrugging before folding her arms when he looked to her. “That’s what the mask is for, isn’t it? Besides, guess how I know otherwise. Go on.”

“Let’s hear it,” Vincent retorted with honest, blunt scepticism.

“Blueblood likes you, the girls want to know you, I like you, and Sweetie trusts you.” She then looked towards the ceiling, eyeing where the bathroom was upstairs. “And you trusted her.” A memory surfaced as she thought of the link between all the mention parties.

‘Hesitation and reluctance are wrung out as he holds the mask in both his hands, one pony-gloved and the other one human-exposed. His features vary, some soft around the chin, mouth, nose and eyes, whereas the rest is hard and sharply defined. He finally looked to her with sad green eyes but… they were honest.

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

“You were capable of removing your mask for me to absolve my guilt,” she added. Another intriguing thought passed her mind, her expression turning inquisitive. “You’re also fairly close to His Majesty, or so I’ve seen. Surely he must have seen you without your guise at least once. What makes him so special?”

“He’s my closest friend.” He felt his agitation rise but kept his voice calm.

“Is this based upon you letting him see your face?” she pressed.

“He knew me before all this,” he said dismissively with a tap of the mask.

“So what do we do then, Ser Vincent?” She watched him rub the back of his head, seeing him flinch as he felt his gloved hand touch the back of his neck. “Are we supposed to accept you’ll remain hiding behind the mask? We won’t hurt you, but if you ever want to change your first impression here then you should try to show them who you really are.” He turned his entire body towards her but she cut him off. “Bit by bit, you’ll get there.”

She offered a genial smile, “And I’ll gladly help you. My friends undoubtedly also.” Her eyes shifted to the stair case and a small giggle escaped her. “And I do believe that my darling sister will help too.”

He turned to find Miss Belle peeking through the bannister with a hand in the cookie jar expression. With wilted ears and a sheepish grin she crept down. She wore a pink night gown as she made her way over, hoof steps soft on the floor.

“Are you talking about Ser Vincent wearing the mask?” She scuffed her hoof against the wooden floor, arms behind her back, avoiding Rarity’s arched brow.

“You know we are, and that it’s rude to eaves drop.”

“I-I- think you should try,” Sweetie Belle managed as she twiddled her thumbs before her. “You told me that being scared of something should make me want to beat it.” She then steeled herself, glaring up to the knight. “I’ve seen you without your mask and you’re not scary. You can take it off here if you want.” She then gasped, an excited grin spreading on her maw that unnerved him. “We could have tea parties!” Her tail waggled as she stood on her tips of her hooves, shaking with childish energy. “A tea party with a knight!”

“Phenomenal.” He sighed deeply.

Rarity giggled beside him but he didn’t share her pleasant mood. One never really appreciates having their own words bite their bottom later, and Vincent was starting develop another pain, this time in his backside. He rubbed his temple, halting when gloved fingers met exposed skin.

‘This has been a disaster since day one.’ He migrated towards the door, ignoring both mares. He decided to set the record straight with what he wanted from now on.

“I don’t ask for much,” he said, “and I don’t enjoy wanting for more than I have.” His heavy steps stopped at the door and he looked back over his shoulder. “I’ll… toy with the notion after a long period of time whilst here in town. I certainly hate having ponies feel anxious around me so I’ll be solving that.” He balled a fist tight before releasing the tension. “If need be… I’ll take you up on the offer.

Both unicorns smiled and nodded. And after considering that he had this option at all, he wasn’t certain whether or not he smiled himself beneath the mask. He then shook his head and chuckled, sincere mirth returning to his voice.

“Persuasive pair, aren’t you?” He looked forward and took hold of the door knob.

Rarity spoke with a coquettish smirk, “Perhaps time amidst your more burly comrades has set you in your ways, Ser Knight. Maybe a mare’s touch in your life is exactly what you need?”

He stopped dead as if his whole body had been petrified. His hand tightened around the rattling door knob. ‘That was a poor choice of words.’

Vincent spoke with impeccable cheeriness, “Goodnight, Ladies.” He opened the door and Rarity called out to him.

“Wait! What about your coat? You’ll get—“ Her words died in her mouth as soon as he stepped out into the downpour, his silhouette outlined by moonlight and exploding raindrops. “Wet.” She finished weakly, standing in the doorway where she dared not dampen herself.

“I’d like to take you up on your offer, Miss Rarity,” he said looking over his shoulder. “The one where you try to repair my coat… for now. Pleasant dreams.” He trudged off towards to the bottom of the garden, by which time Sweetie Belle had joined her sister and peaked out.

“Tata for now! Don’t be a stranger,” Rarity called back.

“Bye, Ser Vincent! I had a lot of fun today,” Sweetie exclaimed with a wave of her hand. To both mare’s surprise they heard him bark with laughter as he disappeared into the night. Sweetie looked up to Rarity, ears wilted. “Do you think we should let him try to fit in on his own?”

“Oh absolutely not,” Rarity said patting her sister on top of her freshly shampooed mane, “Let him have his way but we’ll help out as much as we can.” She then heard her little sister’s stomach growl. “Come on, it’s time to eat.”