These New Days.

by Account No Longer Active

First published 4th of October, 2015

Ser Vincent attempts to adjust to a new life in Ponyville, but be it pride as a knight, or his duty as a knight, it makes for both hit and miss success throughout the weeks.

Whether he likes it or not, Ser Vincent must learn to live in Ponyville until he starts getting called back into action. The pony-dressed human attempts to adjust to a new life, but be it pride as a knight, or his duty as a knight, it makes for both hit and miss success and failures throughout the weeks.

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The fourth story of The Changing States of Knight series. Starting with: To See Both Faces

Early One Morning

Author's Notes:

So here is the sequel of Big Fear, Small Curiosity making it the fourth installment of the Changing States of Knight series.

It starts with To See Both Faces. I cannot stress how important it is to read this in order to understand the world this is set in, but to summerise: anthro ponies are tastefully nudists unless specifically stated otherwise. No rude or explicit material will be described in this story.

As always, please like if you favourite and please leave a comment. They warm my heart for the approaching winter, and all criticisms help me improve. Enjoy!

With one hand still bare he used it to pull a three-digited glove over the other. An experimental flex of both pairs of fingers slotted into a familiar covering helped it feel more natural, feel like a second skin. Ser Vincent had long since passed the point wherein this felt normal, where confining his human hand to a pony glove hardly disturbed or bothered him. He clenched a fist, feeling the grooves dig in between his knuckles, the most discomfort he faced these days. Well, until he was stationed in this town. He fastened the straps at the wrist and forearm, clamping the gloves over his hydra, scaled armour. He repeated the same procedure for his other arm, attaching his coppery bracer that bore his knight badge over it.

It was the weekend and he had been pondering about the past few days and more and more he realised a disconcerting truth: Ser Vincent the Solaris Knight could not afford to hide any longer. He needed to make an impression he desired, leave an image that proved his dependable nature and why he was a knight in the first place.

With his bare face, he couldn't help but frown as he put on his viridian long coat. It was one of the spares, a reminder that he'd have to collect the one Miss Rarity was repairing. A reminder he'd have to leave and venture about town for something other than his job. His features, soft at the core bit hard at the edges shifted to a wince: things were not going his way. This town had seen that honest face, a face he learnt that after so long under the mask, betrayed his emotions all too easily.

That was when his stone green eyes fell upon the mask on his bedside table. It stared back as cold and as vacant as always. His guard against others, his ticket to common decency. He took hold of it but once again, as with these past few days, he felt a sense of doubt when fitting it securely to his head. He fastened the straps for security, he flipped over the hood for obscurity, but glanced at the yellow wind light by the bedroom door and felt the uncertainty return.

He really needed to give that to Miss Belle one of these days. For now, he'd show this town what he stood for, and then left for a new day.

That One Monday

The fridge was empty and Vincent had finished breakfast.

Back in Canterlot Castle this usually meant that Ser Vincent could talk to Platinum Service, Prince Blueblood’s lifelong butler, about what he’d like to eat that evening. Of course, this was not to say that Platinum served the knight as he did His Majesty, rather, the loyal servant ensured the human was just as well looked after by the rest of the staff. The fact that this was endorsed by the prince himself helped as well. At least twice a week both the knight and the prince shared a breakfast in each other’s company, largely due to differences in demanding duties.

Room service was essentially at his liberty to use and whenever he used it he ate in his room, greeting the servant girl with his usual attire. He was friendly and tried not to be intimidating… as one could be to an herbivore serving pork chops or fine salmon meals to sate his appetite. Well at least fish could be passed off as a pegasus delicacy. He wasn’t surprised when, after five years and changing staff, betting pools and whispers about who and what the Nopony was appeared. Of course for the veterans of service to the castle, it was both easy laughs and money when Vincent’s parents came by.

Now? He was miles away from Service who was in all likelihood presenting Blueblood his morning meal, miles away from anypony who understood the needs of Ser Vincent. Canterlot itself had a wide variety of restaurants to eat from, and in emergency cases, he could dine at his father’s establishment… still away from the staff’s eyes.

Here? There was nowhere he could show his face and so he hid away from the eyes of the public beneath his mask. A fact made more pronounced as he walked through the market square of Ponyville, the palpable sense of attention making his skin crawl and fingers coil inside the gloves. The air was warm and the sunlight oppressively cooking him from inside his armour. Sweat ran down his neck and soaked into the cloth that guarded it from exposure, chilling like the anxiety sliding down his spine.

‘Nothing when compared to Saddle Arabia.’

Except deserts didn’t stare back, or even if the sand dunes did have eyes, he wore a more scene-blending coat and pants. The human was always hard to spot, hidden beneath mask and hood, misdirecting with pony gloves and a false tail.

But as he walked past the stalls, through crowds of ponies unwittingly like a shark amidst a school wary of fish, slipped by the group of friends talking in the middle of the path, he could do nothing but glance into the eyes of those who looked back. Most knew, he could tell, for even as he walked tall and head level, should he glance to the side with his malachite eyes they’d catch a pony looking back. Then these Equestrians would – whether out of instinct or not – look away.

For some ponies in this town the illusion had been broken.

His troubled thoughts were brought to an abrupt close as he spied a large produce stand, one of the typical grand affairs; blue tent pitched over a counter, several delectable vegetables on offer, alongside a selection of nuts and dried fruits. The stallion working the stand was on the slender side with fingers like fresh roots as he put out a selection of peppers.

A lot happened as the knight walked over. The stallion in question paled at Vincent’s approach, the ghostly green fur of his turning white as his ears shot up. Offering some comfort, he resorted to an old tactic of not look the vendor in the eye, instead pointing the mask towards a few onions and potatoes that took his fancy. Inside, Ser Vincent sighed as one or two customers glanced behind and immediately ‘looked elsewhere’ and left as the knight joined the queue.

Nervous glances or tempted-twists of the ears back were a sight that made him roll his stone-green eyes under the mask. Ser Vincent stood behind a youthful mare, a good distance too with his arms folded and his attention on anything but her.

“Um, a small bag of potatoes and four carrots please.” He couldn’t see the front of her but she shuffled and shrunk, shoulders slump and her weight constantly switching hooves, tail tucking slightly as he stood out of arms reach. That was literally all he was doing to scare this mare: standing still.

“Sure thing, Butterscotch, five bits.” The stallion got to work, filling a paper sack before putting it all on the counter. The mare quickly dropped her coins, a few extra bits more than required Vincent noted, and quickly scampered off with her goods. He would have put it down to a generous tip if she hadn’t glanced back over her shoulder as she galloped off.

‘Must be busy.’ No, he didn’t believe himself when he thought that.

“Good morning,” Ser Vincent said merrily despite a foreboding feeling growing in his gut. He offered a cordial nod of the head, pointing the mask to the side of the vendor. “Ser Vincent Costello, of the Solaris Knights. I’m new, recently been stationed her to guard the Princess.” He vaguely nodded back in the general direction of the library.

That was simple and easy. A polite and respectful “Hello I’m new to the area,” as far as the knight was aware. He’d heard and used worse back in Canterlot and in the western trading ports on the fringes of Prance. The stallion didn’t seem all that pleased however, and Vincent took a moment to study the guarding stance the pony took.

“Nice to know, so what do you want?” Ears forward, teal eyes sharp and pointed at Ser Vincent’s mask, tail twitching, and he was leaning forward onto the stand, protectively over a few hazel nuts. Evidently, the stallion had already made up his mind about the knight.

“Oh just a few nuts and dried fruits, specifically half a kilo of almonds, and another half a kilo of hazelnut.” Vincent brought the glove up to the muzzle of the mask as if in deep thought. He then pointed towards the produce to his left, “Three carrots, half a kilo of broccoli and two cucumbers too, if you’d be so kind.”

“Eighteen bits.”

The only reason Vincent knew he his jaw had dropped was because he felt his chin crash into the bottom of the long pony mask. For eighteen bits, in certain circles, he could afford a stem of a potent paralytic tulip imported from Minos, strong enough to put an ursa minor to sleep in an instant. For eighteen bits, he could have two leaves of a flower that made him see in the dark for four seconds a piece, meaning they’d make an excellent main ingredient for nocturnal vision enhancing potions. For eighteen bits a tour guide from gryphonia would point him towards a forest where a fungus grew that could potentially be used to replace broken sensory neurons in his skin.

For eighteen bits he could afford a decent main course in the standard Canterlot restaurant.

“I beg your pardon? Did you say eight?” He must have misheard.

“Eighteen.” The stallion huffed before tapping the base of his pointed ears. “Must be hard to hear things with that hood up, huh?” he added with a subtle disdainful manner. It was the kind of professionalism that Vincent had a shred of respect for, a sort of, cruel politeness that showed how unwelcomed he was.

“You can’t possibly expect me to accept that pricing,” Vincent rebutted with a shake of the head, arms folded, “If you wanted to rip me off in a somewhat convincing way you should have started at eight.”

“Well it is what is, pal, sorry,” the vendor replied, faux sympathy covering for a complete absence of sincerity.

“For some reason I doubt that,” Ser Vincent said with his voice growing cold. “I won’t be paying that much, in fact, I doubt anypony would pay that much.”

“You’re probably right,” the earthpony replied with a nod, eyes darting the busy market and back to the knight. He scowled. “Nopony would.”

There was a short, pregnant pause where in the two faced each other off. The stallion growing restless as the knight froze, statuesque and simply staring back at the tail-twitching vegetable vendor. Oh, Ser Vincent was very, very much aware of the stares he was getting from potential customers. Goosebumps ran across his body whenever he thought about it.

Then he chuckled, a soft baritone reverberating through the mask, subdued and at a volume only he and the stallion could hear. It was a mocking laughter, for Ser Vincent was very much aware of why the produce seller wanted him gone, for one reason and another.

“Trust me, the Nopony wouldn’t. You have a problem with me, a knight, buying from you?” Vincent asked.

“Never, but you aren’t buying are you? So…” The stallion shrugged, still eyeing the large vacant space around the armoured… thing that kept ponies from approaching. “Look, if you don’t like the pricing go elsewhere. I ain’t one to haggle so don’t take it too hard--”

“Fine.”

“Huh?” The stallion blinked, ear a twitch.

Ser Vincent simply shrugged. “I see there’s no way of convincing you so I’ll just have to look elsewhere for what I want.” He then turned on the spot and stepped to the side of the tented stand and simply surveyed the marketplace. For a while this left the stallion content enough to go back to business, a sigh of relief even escaping him as he relaxed his stance. Patrons would return and his almost-modest income would return.

Except that’s not how things went.

He had no customers at all for the passing half an hour. Not one usually to brag but he was a fairly popular produce vendor in this town, not enough to say, be the go to guy but close enough. He had a decent price range too… for ponies. So the fact that nopony was queuing up was troublesome. That is until he realised why.

He followed the wary gazes of would-be customers, all of which, leading to the knight that stood off to the side. He huffed in bewilderment, watching the knight casually bring his gloved hand to his chin and look upon the market ponderously.

“Hey!”

To this the… thing pretending to be a pony mechanically turned its head over its shoulder, as if it had been disturbed.

“Yes?”

“I thought you said you were going somewhere else?”

“Looking, my fine gentlestallion, looking elsewhere.” Ser Vincent returned to gazing upon the market, hands swinging to link behind his back.

“You, uh, think you could do it elsewhere?” The stallion asked with a frown.

“I could look anywhere, but you see, I may never find what I’m looking for.” Vincent glanced to his left, tilting his head. He wasn’t looking for anything at all for that matter.

“Oh, yeah, well, maybe I can point you the right way,” the stallion replied, a practiced smile growing along with his irritation, “Save you standing around for a long time.”

“You need not worry, I’ve been on guard for Prince Blueblood whilst he attended important functions, had to wait vigilantly for hours until I had to escort him back to the palace.” Ser Vincent turned to step before the entrance. “Once waited all day whilst up to my waist in mud to catch a low grade chimera.”

Slowly and with the prowl of a bear entering another’s den, Ser Vincent walked back into the tent and up to the stand. He bore the tilt of the head as he lowered his gaze so that, even though his muzzle was pointed down, the stallion could feel the cold stone glare of the knight.

“I’m looking for half a kilo of almonds, and another half a kilo of hazelnut, three carrots, half a kilo of broccoli and two cucumbers all for less than eight bits too.” He watched the vendor swallow a dry throat as he tried to return to hovering over his counter, but Vincent cut him off. The knight leant over, hands firmly fixed on the surface and the stallion leaning away. “Please.”

He titled his head the other way as he stood tall. “I’m very patient so take your time. Then I’ll be out of your mane soon enough.”

“Ser Vincent?”

Both looked back to the entrance, finding a familiar apple farmer hauling three bushels of apples in a small wooden box.

“Good morning, Miss Applejack,” Ser Vincent responded with a merry tone.

“Well, howdy!” She beamed as she brought the box in. “See you’re doing a bit shopping, gotta say, I didn’t think I’d see you out the house anytime soon.” She turned her freckled face to the pale green stallion, “Here’s the first half of your apple shipment, Emerald Zest.”

“Thanks,” the newly named stallion managed, confused by the formality between the knight and the apple farmer migrating through the barrels of vegetables behind him.

Ser Vincent took notes of the opportunity, what he could use to his advantage to improve his image… or at least let the town know where things stood between him and them. Miss Applejack obviously had a working relationship with this Emerald Zest and she was half finished with her deliveries here, meaning that she may have deliveries for elsewhere. He could look good to this community if he were to offer his assistance.

“You’re in good hands, Ser Knight,” Applejack began as she dropped off the crate and wiped her brow. She stepped back to the front of the stand, thumbing towards the vendor. “Zest’s good for a lot of veggies at a fair price, good to those hard up on bits too.”

But first… Vincent thought, raising his head and linking hands behind his back once more. “Well, at eighteen bits I’m being assured that I’m practically stealing from the charitable fellow.”

In some dark corner of his mind, Vincent reserved and savoured the wide eyed stares of those he scared like one stored brandy or wine. So when Emerald coughed, ears wilted and eyes like pin pricks as he glanced between a supplier of quality goods and a troublesome customer, Ser Vincent unknowingly cracked a grin beneath the mask.

With an arched brow and friendly grin Applejack looked back up to Vincent. “Are you buying half a week’s worth?”

“Two kilos of nuts, three carrots, broccoli and two cucumbers.” He had to admit there was a charm to the shock in Applejack’s face, kind of ‘country cute’ as it were. He extended and arm out and offered an upturned palm towards the visibly sweating Zest. “Quite the bargain, I’m sure you’ll agree.”

“What the hay, Emerald?!” Applejack blasted, startling the knight a tad. Glancing out he spotted half the market briefly look into the tent. Briefly. “What kind of deal’s that?”

“I-it—look, Applejack, I can explain.”

“Then talk,” the mare growled, tail lashing as she flicked up her Stetson.

“It’s just that, well, it’s…” Finally, after wilting like a spring bean under the harsh emerald gaze of the farmer, Zest pointed towards the knight and muttered, “It’s because of it.”

She scoffed, tossing her thick bundled pony tail back over her shoulder as she glanced back to Vincent. He only offered her a slight tilt of the head before turning his attention back outside. She snorted before looking back to the stallion. She opened her mouth, a verbal lashing fit for tanning the hide of a bull ready to spring forth, alas she shook her head and sighed. She saw Emerald wince as she regarded him with disappointment, “Really, Zest? What’s got into you? You weren’t like this with Zecora.”

“Zecora’s still a pony,” Zest retorted through a harsh whisper, “and she didn’t bring ogres to town, nor did she beat the tar out of them.”

“He was just doing his job!” Applejack fired back.

“Yeah, and he scares half of the town too. Look, nopony’s coming in.” He gestured to the outside the tent, where ponies were taking one glance at Vincent before heading off. It was as she turned to look that the viridian knight returned to the counter.

“I’m already here,” he remarked before looking down to Applejack. “I understand that you have more to deliver? Perhaps I can be of some assistance?”

“What? Not now Vincent.” Applejack said, bemused as he reached under his long coat and around the back.

He shook his head whilst clicking his tongue. “Miss Applejack, allow me to have a moment with Mister Emerald Zest, I’m sure we can renegotiate.” Ser Vincent said with warmth touching his tone. “Why don’t you go fetch the rest of the order, I can guarantee things will be sorted by the time you get back.” He made sure she heard a smile in his voice. “I’ll even help you out afterwards.”

She snorted before turning to prod him in the exposed armoured chest.

“If he gives you trouble—“

She barely blinked before her hand was caught in a rock solid grip, firm but not painful. Ser Vincent gently pushed it away.

“Don’t worry,” Vincent said whilst maintaining that friendly tone, “I’ve ran this obstacle course many times.” He released his grasp and pointed out of the tent, “Now don’t let me keep you.”

With a doubting glance, Applejack looked back to Zest. She grunted before flicking her Stetson down over her eyes and marching out. The stallion sighed rubbing his temple before giving the knight a harsh glare. Ser Vincent couldn’t care less at the moment.

“Now look here, Vinny—“

The knight abruptly brought his fist down hard onto the counter top, startling Zest. Fruit and spare change hopped on the spot, a silver coin diving for the ground. Vincent then leant over and came uncomfortably close to stallion, tilting his head as he looked down on the shrinking pony.

“You’re going to do two things from now on,” Ser Vincent said coolly. What warmth there was had vanished, a chilling tone lacing his words. “I only want the normal rate, none of this, let’s say, rip off the new guy nonsense. So what would the price be?”

Zest raised his muzzle in a weak attempt to seem composed but the fact that the knight was leaning over like a beast waiting for the kill ruined that illusion.

“F-five bits.”

“Sounds reasonable… even with that little tip on the end, huh?” Vincent pressed. Zest got to work and quicker than ever before, he had his customer’s order in no time.

“Anything else?” asked Emerald, wincing as the knight ground the fist into the wooden counter. It groaned as Vincent nodded.

“It’s Ser Vincent. There’s a good measure of respect in that title that I expect you remember. I earned that, it was not given. So I want you to drop your attitude.” His other hand came about to prod the stallion harshly in the shoulder, extracting a small yelp. “If I can’t have your respect, you lose my common decency and I’ll take your fear of losing profit instead.”

Ser Vincent then backed away from the table, taking his produce bag and quickly leaving just as Applejack came back.

“I hope you two came to an understanding,” she said, depositing the crate of apples in front of the counter. She glanced to Zest who was looking at the counter with a perplexed expression.

“I believe so,” Vincent remarked, stealing her attention. “So where are we heading off to next?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’d like to assist you in your deliveries, if you’re still making them.”

“Nah, but thanks for the offer,” Applejack replied with a smile. She joined him by the entrance, shooting the vendor another disapproving glance.

“I insist, I’m still not really sure about what’s where around here,” Ser Vincent added, voice turning friendly once more. “And I did enjoy the trip to the town hall when I first arrived, so if you’d take me once more I’d be grateful.” She squinted up the knight, a grin growing on her muzzle. “This time I’ll even be repaying you.”

“Well if you’re gonna be adamant about it, can’t really turn down a free worker, sugar cube.” She chuckle before trying to slug him in the arm. He caught with the hand that wasn’t holding his goods. “Right, right, no touching.” She turned on her hoof and stepped out, looking back to Emerald Zest.

“Well… bye, Zest, don’t let me catch you ripping Ser Vincent off again, you hear. Come on, big guy, I don’t have much left to do.” With that she departed.

Ser Vincent looked back to Zest, who was glancing between him and the stack of bits the knight had left behind.

“It’s because I didn’t want any trouble, don’t want any hard feelings, and because I won’t tolerate you disrespecting me again.” With that the knight left to follow the apple farmer.

This left Zest with a stack of ten bits, a little confusion, and a bit of uncertainty about his views on the knight.

That One Tuesday

Spike had a fairly easy way of life. The young drake enjoyed being his surrogate big sister’s number one assistant and being helpful around the library too (mostly for the pocket money at the end of each week). Before coming to Ponyville it was mostly “Hand me that book please, Spike” or “Let’s double check the exam timetables, Spike.” Fairly normal magical protégé to Princess Celestia stuff.

Then he and Twilight came to Ponyville, and barring the one or two escapades a couple times a month, it was simply organising Twilight’s books but on maximum overdrive. It was like he’d been training all his life to work in a library or something.

So far nothing’s really changed with Twilight being a Princess so he couldn’t really say that it affected him in a negative way… yet. So he was content to keep on with his duties and make breakfast this morning which so happened to be toasted leeks and bluebells, sandwiched between warm fluffy potato waffles. As far as things went in the library these past few years nothing had really become an abnormality.

‘And then there’s this guy.’

Waddling into the main room to lay the second dish onto the table, opposite his own bowl of topaz and milk, Spike regarded the new addition to the building. He could pass as a piece of furniture, either as a heavily armoured mannequin or a really ugly lamp.

The knight simply stood against the wall, between the two bookshelves. He faced the entrance with his arms folded. It was just so… weird having a guard around. Spike wasn’t too sure what to make of it and let his thoughts take over as he worked on auto pilot, waiting for Twilight to slump out of bed from last night’s reading binge.

Spike thought the knight would at least wait outside, guard the front door or something, but then again Princess Celestia had guards posted outside her bedroom. He guessed this was sort of similar. The knight was silent as the guards too, the difference being that he’d actually talk back.

“You, uh, sure you don’t want anything?” Spike asked again, feeling somewhat awkward.

“I’m certain, Master Spike, but thank you for the offer,” Ser Vincent replied with a cordial nod of the head, slow and exaggerated. “It certainly smells lovely, do you do this often?”

Master Spike huh? Sounded good but the young lad knew it was just him referring to his age.

“Yep, everyday!” Spike chirped with pride, hearing fin twitching as the door upstairs opened up. “I’ve always been an early riser so I figured I’d make use of it. Love cooking too!” Spike chest swelled as he took his seat, glancing back to the knight as he in turn nodded in response.

“I had no choice in becoming a dawn walker, myself,” Ser Vincent replied. “Well, I always did, but in boot camp that’s the wrong choice.”

See, like this, he was fine and it actually felt like somepony else was in the room. But when he fell silent and looked back to the door as he always did moments later, Spike couldn’t help but get creeped out a little. Did Celestia just get used to this? He hoped so, because there was a chance he could too.

With bags under her eyes and with heavy hoofsteps, Princess Twilight Sparkle descended the staircase, tail limp and her mind still full of sleep. She unleashed a tremendous, adorable yawn, the alicorn soon shuffling over to take a seat at the table. Vincent then chose to focus on her as she sniffed the meal before, licking her lips and reaching for a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, Twilight,” Spike greeted before snickering into his claws.

“Good morning, Spike,” she replied with a weak smile. She then levitated the waffle sandwich with her magic and promptly chomped into it, munching slowly as her eyes scanned the room. Thoughts of today appeared in her mind as clearly as one wiped off the condensation from a steamed mirror – a lot to uncover and a bit time consuming. The cobwebs spun from the short bed rest last night were cleared away after a few more bites, her mind spotting the viridian figure in the corner.

“Oh, good morning, Ser Vincent.” She offered a wave before downing the rest of her morning coffee. Spike chuckled once more, silencing himself with a spoonful of milky gemstones.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” the knight replied with a fist-on-heart bow.

Both Spike and the knight looked to one and other, and although Spike couldn’t see it, he felt as if Vincent was wearing the same wide grin he was.

‘Wait for it,’ Spike thought, nearly squirting milk out of his nose when Twilight’s eyes shrunk.

“Aaaaagh!” Her scream was pointed to the knight who offered little in response as she nearly fell out of her chair. He was as still as stone. “Vincent? Wha- What are you doing here?”

He offered her an upturned palm, a shrug, and an answer. “Guarding you.” He then glanced to the merrily chewing Spike. “She’s quicker than you gave her credit for.”

“Eh, that was mostly the coffee,” Spike remarked with an off-hand wave of the claw. “One time I had to spoon feed her because she was that tired the next day.”

“Excuse me?” Twilight felt a tad offended at being made fun off. “That did not happen.” Spike stopped eating and pointed an incredulous brow her way. She glanced to the side, folding her arms beneath her chest. “You gave me two bites and I was back to normal afterwards.”

She shook her head recalling how things had been since Ser Vincent had actively been on guard duty. He’d been sent out on other missions, the only time he sounded honestly truly happy, but whenever he wasn’t away he stuck to her like her own shadow. At least this wasn’t something he ambushed her with. He started out by explaining that he was going to start stalking her as she went about her days around town so that made it less stalker-ish.

‘No. No. No. He’s a bodyguard, this is his job…’ Her thoughts drifted to a recent letter from the Prince as she chewed on her breakfast, every so often glancing to the stoic standing knight. Prince Blueblood wanted reports on Ser Vincent’s progress as her new guard, but the fact that he also wanted minute details suggested he just wanted to check on his friend instead. She just wished he carried himself better and found her mind drifting to the start of the last letter.

‘To the fair and inexperienced, Princess Twilight Sparkle--’ And just what was he eluding to with that? Words and phrases popped into her mind, souring her morning mood. ‘He’d attempt to isolate himself in his new home and only come out when needed, I trust you know how bad that can be for a pony.’ Then there was the one about her lifestyle: ‘Be wary of how much ketchup you get on your muzzle, you are a royal now, not a mare fresh off her diet.’ Who the heck did he think he was?! From time to time he mentioned what good he was doing back in Canterlot but otherwise it was snide remarks here and there. It was just little snippets of back and forth that made having the knight a bit more of a chore.

Speaking of which maybe it was time for… the talk.

“Spike, could you run to Sugercube corner and fetch us two fresh loafs of Prench bread?” Her request was met with her adoptive brother scratching the spine on his head before shrugging.

“Sure thing, Twi.” The purple drake then slid out of his seat, taking his empty bowl to the kitchen before seeking a small bag of bits by the record book near the door. “I’ll be back in no time.”

“Take your time,” Twilight said with a closed-eye smile and little wave.

Spike waved to Ser Vincent. “Take it easy, big guy, don’t strain yourself.” He grinned as the knight huffed in amusement.

“We’ll see.”

When Spike closed the door, Twilight turned in her seat to fire a frown at Ser Vincent. He merely looked to her, stoic mask easily hiding whatever expression she had for him. It was probably one of those arched brow looks, at least that was the impression his tilted head gave her.

“Is something the matter, Your Majesty?”

With a flare of her horn, Spike’s chair was pushed back after being encased in a magenta glow. “Take a seat, we need to talk.” Steadily and with the mask trained on her he complied. She then took a moment to her hold her tail on her lap as she formulated the correct way to say what needed to be said. “Look, I don’t really know how to say this…”

“Most start with the usual ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ spiel,” he remarked. It caught her off guard and a smile crept onto her muzzle. She shot him a wry grin, pouring another cup of coffee with her magic.

“Well, now that you mentioned it and got it out there, it does make thing easier.” She took a quick sip, sighing at the sweet taste of caffeine. Unlike the guards she knew, apparently knights could speak out of turn, something Blueblood said was why he favoured the human. She then blinked, a sheepish look pegging her ears to the side of her head. “Oops, pardon me, would you care for a cup of coffee.”

He tapped his mask. “No thank you.”

“Oh, then let’s get started,” she said before coughing into her hand. She offered a bright smile, her eyes showing she meant no offence. “Okay, so I want to talk to you about your methods of guarding, well, me. I think you’re doing a great job, really, but I think you need to lessen it up a tad.” She almost bit her lip but managed to withhold the course of action.

For a while Ser Vincent was silent, appearing to merely be a collection of scaled plates and a mask, all cloaked by a timber hood and forest green long coat. Not a sound was heard nor a twitch seen. That is until he shrugged.

“With all due respect, ma’am I don’t.”

She was taken aback by this. She spluttered before taking a sip again, placing her cup of coffee back on the table before shifting in her seat to get comfortable.

“Really? You don’t think it’s unnecessary to wait inside my house early in morning?” Her thin lipped stare was met with a shake of the mask.

Ser Vincent then raised his primary finger, or as she was reminding herself, two human fingers under that pony glove. “Firstly this establishment is registered as a public library, whereas the upper floor is an apartment, ergo, I am permitted here unless banned. To which my retort would be that as a knight I am enforcing the right of trespass, wherein, if in order to protect the citizens, country or crown, I am permitted in any and all facilities, civilian, government, privatised, etc, without lawful punishment. T’is a rare act that nearly no knights act upon but that I must justify to my superiors but for the sake of duty, they won’t mind.”

He extended the second digit of the glove.

“Guards are stationed outside the chamber hall of their charges, otherwise, at the bottom of the stairs leading to their domain,” Ser Vincent pointed to the railing above and behind Twilight but she didn’t follow where he pointed. Instead she let her glare harden, a ghost of a smile working onto her maw. “As is, I am permitted to stay down here, but not to stand outside your bedroom door without your direct orders.”

“Then I’ll just order you out.”

“Nope.”

“Look, Vincent—“

“Ser Vincent.”

“Ugh!” With a groan she threw her hands into the air, ears pointing up and tail lashing. She then let them fall, simply staring at the ceiling before chuckling to herself. With a shake of the head and a waggle of the finger, she warned the knight that slowly tilted his head. “Don’t try and play technicalities with me, buster, the worst thing you can do is make me read how you guys operate.”

She leant forward in what he assumed was an attempt to seem threatening. “I’ll use your own rules against you.”

“I’m known for being unconventional when necessary so go ahead.” He offered a shrug and she gritted her teeth at his cool demeanour.

She then sighed and slumped back into her seat, rubbing the bridge of her snout before looking to him with light exasperation. “Did Blueblood have to put up with this?”

Ser Vincent shrugged, his voice sincerely turning sympathetic, “He grew up with this and… at times he has found it to be suffocating.”

Twilight perked up in interest as he continued.

“Says it made privacy a valued commodity. That he could only scream at times inside his head.”

It was odd to see, but she saw it. A layer peeled away as the knight slouched, his glance drifting away from her. She felt the pity to his words, and in a way, it made reading him a bit easier. She felt he was honest in what he said and how he said it, something that she didn’t feel often. “So you understand how I feel then?”

“Of course but you don’t care how I’m supposed to feel about this,” he shot back. “What am I supposed to do? You don’t need me to protect you and because of that you lead a normal life; greasy hayburger shops that leave dollops of ketchup on your nose after every meal, a sugar powdered muzzle from eating at Sugarcube Corner, opening unchecked packages that make you dance on your hoof-tips whenever a book’s inside.” He shook his head and scoffed. A nightmare is what this had become. “And don’t even get me started on your little adventures.”

“Wow, that’s… thorough,” she blushed at the part about the book but was otherwise put off by the details he picked up.

“I’m your guard, Princess.” His words were flat as he rolled his hand, “I remember these things when I panic over poisons in your food or spell traps in your mail, or when you disappear without warning.” He rubbed the back of his head, words turning melancholic. “Prince Blueblood gets at least one attempt every two years or so, nothing fatal in the last six years or so I hear. Just things that would ruin his image.”

She gasped at that. Sure, he was insufferable company on average but she caught onto the some of his usefulness in his last visit. Nopony deserved an attempt on their life though. “Oh my…” she whispered. “That’s horrible.”

“He’s… used to it. Surprised when it happens, almost like every time Pinkie Pie greets me.” Vincent could not trigger his magic as he could not will himself into an adrenaline rush – he could scare himself; there had been numerous moments in his career where he purposely leapt from great heights in order to activate a rush. Vertigo was as an instinctive fear he could overcome when in need but never be rid of. Perhaps that was one of the few natural things about the first human born into Equestria.

Pinkie Pie, however, could startle him just enough for him to allow his magic to take over, but often controlled himself and avoided such a thing. A needless rush of magic was discomforting, after all. That was the extent of his control: using the rush and ending one before it starts, never initiating his abilities himself. She was just so… spontaneous that he had a hard time keeping an eye on her.

“I doubt that,” she said dubiously, giggling to herself. “Well, it’s just that, you can afford to ease up a bit.” She smiled in a placating manner as he folded his arms, turning his head ever so slightly to hear her better. “From time to time, the girls and I do travel around and we can handle—“

“Don’t even get me started on that!” Ser Vincent interrupted, weary in voice and in the shake of his head.

Twilight had to admit, out of all the amazing creatures and ponies of the world, there was one she can finally say she had the immense honour, the immense pleasure, and the immense joy to have seen in action, in her element. Twilight was far luckier than most, more privileged, she realised, than others to have met this amazing mare, to spend as much time as she had with her as she had.

And that mare, who millions admired no doubt… was Daring Do.

Still feeling ecstatic from meeting her favourite heroine, she waltzed back into the library with the fur on her neck still on end, goosebumps lingering on her arms. She was completely thrilled with today’s turn of events, especially having gotten the address of her (non)fictional hero, and planned on trading letters as soon as she could! So, so much fan mail to send.

“Spike, you’re not going to believe this,” she said, honing on the shrinking drake. She missed the worried look in his eye, his grip tightening on the broom he held when he glanced past her. Of course, she excitedly went on to regale her tale, completely oblivious to the ever growing concern on her assistant’s face.

Traversing miles of wild forest, hiding from dangerous animals? Beads of sweat fell from head to tail. Perilously fending off hired thugs? His pupils shrunk. Teleporting between spear lunges and beating away tribe-ponies that attempted to harm her friends? He raised a single claw to try and quieten her. Fleeing a crumbling temple? Well, it wasn’t that that froze him, but the loud bang of somepony shutting the door.

With a startled gasp she spun around. There, gloved hand extended from his side and pinning the door shut, stood a shadowed Ser Vincent with his back to the wall. The light seemed to miss him as it beamed through the nearby window, his form silent and statuesque as he glared back with that blank mask. She didn’t know how she knew he was glaring at her, maybe it was because she felt her goosebumps returning. It was different this time, her instincts telling her to flee the gaze of the human; it was fear not excitement that energised her.

“Welcome back… Princess. Sounds like a nice… safe trip you had…” He moved out of the shadows, steps oddly quiet and soft like his words. “It does soothe my mind and heart to see you safe, Princess Twilight.”

Twilight rubbed the back of her neck, ears slightly downcast as she offered a sheepish grin. “Sorry about that.” She regained her composure with a cough into her hand. “It was a force of habit; I’m just not used to having a guard around.” Her wings twitched as her ears fell lower. “Heck, I seem to be getting all the negatives with being princess, none of the pluses.”

In the second-long pause, the knight tilted his head and regarded her in a new light. He grew up with Prince Blueblood learning his place in the world, the greatness he was destined to strive for, albeit for a long time it was at a distance until later into their lives. He didn’t know how well this capable mare had been taking her new duties and responsibilities. Maybe he should consider this a bit more?

“Well, isn’t that nice to know.” Vincent reclined in the seat, folding his arms as she perked up. “I’m a great asset, and now, the worst thing to happen since your coronation, if not in your life.” He offered huff before counting on his pony-gloved fingers respectively, “Of all the evils to bother you, I trump a spirit of chaos, a deranged tyrant fuelled by hate, why, even one jealous alicorn princess and a love-sucking insect queen.”

She offered a scowling grin as he raised his head, rubbing his mask’s chin and what she assumed was also his ego too.

“I wonder when I’ll be commemorated for this? Sometime soon, with a glorious statue.” He didn’t mean all that he had said (save the asset part), he was merely trying to lighten the mood. “I’ve always wanted my own stain glass window.” Honestly, that part he meant.

“It’s not like that,” she rebutted, leaning forward with a small smile. “It’s just, I don’t feel like I’m a princess yet but there’s little things I have to do that remind me I am.” She thumbed up to her quarters upstairs. “A few tax issues here in Ponyville, and one or two small legal matters elsewhere is all I’ve accomplished so far. Blueblood keeps asking about you and now I’ve been told that I can relay your missions through my magic soon.” She sighed and slumped. “By the way, I might be sending you test letter through Spike as soon as I can arrange it. Not really big princess stuff is it?” she finished.

“You must be qualified, Her Majesty wouldn’t have ascended you otherwise,” Ser Vincent reassured. “Give it time.”

“Yeah, I know but…” She trailed off, looking to him with a hesitant expression. “With you here, it’s half as good as I thought it would be. It’s like being Celestia’s student again when I was five and needed to be looked after by the guards whenever she was busy. I was prepared for the responsibility, even looking forward to it.”

“Well, pardon me, Princess.”

She giggled as he jerked his head back, appearing insulted as he folded his arms and looked away. She admitted, “I guess I just want to sort out this whole guard relation thing.”

He nodded slowly, in understanding. She was a very accomplished young mare, a master of the arcane, a sorceress above all sorceresses of this era, and an ex- Element of Magic, and with a few bested villains under her belt that made the knight a tad envious. He wasn’t needed but he did have a job to do. His entire role here was convenience in moving around the south quickly, but he was yet to even do that. Before he could voice his opinion on the matter the door burst open.

Both looked to the entrance to find Spike panting, baguettes wobbling in the paper bag as he swiftly shut the door behind him. He turned to face Twilight with a slight wince.

“It’s Morning Star.”

At his words Twilight shuddered and grimaced. “Not again. Where is he?”

“He’s on the way, I think he saw me come inside.” Spike then set the bag aside and exhaled deeply, shaking his head. He cast Twilight a withering a stare. “You’d think he’d get the hint by now.”

“Morning Star?” Ser Vincent inquired, noting the embarrassed look on the Princesses face. She seemed reluctant to answer, twiddling her fingers as she looked for the words. He wasted no time in turning to Spike and tilting his head.

“Twilight’s coltfriend.”

“He’s not my coltfriend!” Twilight quickly corrected, cheeks pink rose blossomed.

“I take it this Morning Star assumes he’s the princess' consort.” He earned a sagely nod from young drake.

“It doesn’t help that she keeps dodging him,” Spike explained.

“Hey I’ve never…”

Ser Vincent couldn’t hear what she began muttering under her breathe but he could take a hint. Stories around the castle, before she left, told that the student of Princess Celestia was a reclusive sort, hardly a socialite. Blueblood said she even had to write friendship letters as she made new friends. He dared not think how she was going to tackle actual courtship.

Another round of knocking silenced the room.

“Twilight, I mean, Princess Twilight?” If this was Morning Star, and given the stares from the others it was, then Ser Vincent assumed he was a young sounding stallion.

“I’ll tell him to go-“ Spike began, before being interrupted by Ser Vincent.

“And what exactly troubles you about this stallion, Princess?”

“I have train tickets to Prance, my sweet! Soon will be the night of the Valvian comets passing, we’d be fools not to take this chance. I have the new book by Scarlet Prose we could share as well!”

Ser Vincent was stunned, glancing between a blanching Spike and a deadpanned, red cheeked Twilight. She simply pointed to the door, tail lashing and ears pointing skyward.

“That!” Twilight hissed with a scrunched muzzle. “Barring his aggressiveness, he doesn’t know what I actually like. Scarlet’s too sappy and it’s actually the Mirigan comets passing over Prance, and over Ponyville too a few hours later.”

After another bout of knocking, Ser Vincent rose to his boots. Spike was about to open the door before the knight placed his hand on the handle, looking down to him. He gave him a nod away from the door, Spike quirking a brow before retreating with the baguettes in tow.

Opening the door revealed a handsome, if a tad feminine stallion. Bulky too, blue furred muscles hidden under a thinner layer of fat. Hardly trim or toned, nor tall for that matter, his blonde locks coming to the muzzle of the knight’s mask. Morning Star regarded him with surprise, shirking back and revealing a stop watch with a solar motive for a cutie mark. Ser Vincent didn’t care for these features and instead resorted to an old trick for dealing with royal admirers back in Canterlot.

“Can I help you?” Ser Vincent folded his arms, maintaining his imposing stance as the poor stallion straightened himself up.

“Oh, um, Hello,” the stallion managed weakly.

“Greetings.” Ser Vincent replied with a lukewarm voice.

“Y-you’re that… that…”

“The knight, yes.” Ser Vincent thrusted a hand out, almost gutting the pegasus pony. “Ser Vincent. A pleasure.”

To his credit, the stallion took hold of the hand and gave it a vigorous shake. “Well, I’m Morning Star, and I’d like to speak to Twil-“

“Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

“Oh, absolutely!” Morning Star then took on a dreamy look, goofy smile, glazed over eyes, the sort of look Vincent saw on countless mares and made his stomach coil and roll. “She was regal and beautiful before, and now a gorgeous and divine alicorn, I simply have to see her once again.”

“No you won’t.” Ser Vincent’s bluntness caught the stallion of guard. “There are rules and commands. Either follow the rules, social and otherwise, or get her permission.”

“But she has ponies come to her all the time-“

“Nopony who wishes to court her.”

“Well… ask her, and I’m certain that-“

“Don’t have to.”

“What?!” It almost hurt Ser Vincent’s ears how outraged, how high pitched, the stallion’s indignation was. “Then what other ways must I prove myself to you?”

“We could have a duel of honour,” Ser Vincent offered with a shrug, “I know Celestia is waiting for a stallion to best her greatest guards, and I image Princess Twilight would enjoy a story book romance as well.” He then, as if to seem conspiratory, stole a quick glance inside before looking back and lowering his voice. “I’d take the deal if I were you. See, security’s tightening up soon, so unless I can say your part of an exclusive group, you can’t ever ask her hand in courtship. Put a date on the line, look a bit bolder in her books.”

With a smile that rivalled Pinkie Pie, Morning Star nodded vigorously. The guard was willing to help? What a nice mon- erm… thing.

“Well in that case, I’ll prove myself worthy!”

‘Baffoon.’ Ser Vincent stepped forward. ‘Fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. He walked close to the stallion, closer than he would have liked but he deemed this as necessary.

“So we have a deal? You win, you may visit her and attempt to win her heart.”

Morning Star nodded, blissfully unaware to the Ser Vincent wrapping an arm, not around his shoulder, but his waist. Then he became awfully aware. It was after a moment of inspecting the scenario that he dared to ask the uncomfortable question now buzzing in his mind as he looked up to the mask.

“And… if you win?”

Ser Vincent cupped the cheek of the wide-eyed stallion. “You take me to dinner…” He trailed off, pulling the mortified stallion closer and lowering his voice to a practiced husk. “…Handsome…”

“Nope!” With that the stallion squirmed, the knight setting him free and watching him flee like an escaping convict, tail tucked between his sprinting legs.

‘The good ones always run away, story of my life.’ He chuckled to himself, thinking how mares usually reacted. Of course, he didn’t challenge them to a duel, merely hinted at his own interest in them. It was a good tactic for dispatching would-be dames vying the Prince’s attention. The knight had no interest in the same sex himself.

Upon returning to the library he was greeted by a guffawing Spike and a giggling Twilight at the window. He resumed his designated post by the door and regarded the princess with a slow nod.

“I do believe you may favour this one, Princess. I approve, for what little that’s worth.”

“That was hilarious!” Spike guffawed, wiping a tear from his eye.

“I do hope I have proven myself,” the knight said as he went down onto his knee, hand on heart. “Though you should set him free yourself soon, I can help keep him at bay.” He lowered his gaze to the floor.

Princess Twilight rolled her eyes before regarding the knight with a wry smile. “Okay, so you are good to have around… most of the time.” She heard the smirk in his voice when he replied.

“When needed I assume?”

“Hey, Vincent, I’ll make you a deal.” She strolled over and stopped before him, giving him permission to stand to full height. He towered above her by a full head. “When I’m just being Twilight Sparkle, hanging out with my friends or going on adventures, I don’t want you as my guard. But when I’m Princess Twilight, promise not to leave my side unless I say so. Deal?”

He was mute for a moment, glancing away as he contemplated. A soft ticking could be heard for a few passing seconds before he looked back to her with a curt nod. “I suppose that’s a fair deal; I don’t like it but I understand. Under any other circumstance I would have declined this offer, you know?”

He sighed, feeling something eat away at his integrity as a knight. This was… so wrong, but at the same time, so was saying that the princess needed to be watched twenty-four-seven, or that she couldn’t handle herself. It wasn’t as if he was completely abandoning her anyway. “I’d much rather you avoided putting yourself in harm’s way altogether though. Tell me what you’re doing when you disappear, however. It’s a nightmare for a guard not knowing where their charge is, after all.”

He turned to leave but was stopped by Spike tugging his short, fake tail. “Hey, where you going?” Spike looked up to the clothed human. “You’re not going to stay a while?”

“I’m no longer needed,” said Ser Vincent with a casual shrug whilst pushing the drake’s claw away gently.

“So?” Spike replied with a frown. “You can hang around if you want to.” He glanced around the library, gesturing to a small potion section, “We got books you can read. Or we can talk, you must have a few awesome stories to tell.”

“Yeah, come on, Ser Vincent,” Twilight added with a pleasant smile. “Just because I don’t need you now, per se, doesn’t mean I don’t want to get to know you as a friend.”

Ser Vincent kept looking down to the serpent-eyed drake, his hand tightening on the door handle. There was little reason for him to stay except for recreational purposes and he didn’t really read in public places. He certainly hadn’t considered anypony in this town his friend, but he could think of six that were becoming friendly acquaintances. Yet… something made him concede.

“I suppose I can browse the collection for a while.”

That One Wednesday

Ser Vincent was not the best archer. He met the basics that all guards did and found he excelled with a javelin and a spear as his weapons of choice (second to his potions and his unarmed combat, of course). A spear was one of the three weapons a guard was trained in, second being swords, third being the bow.

Shrrrrrrrrrk

The knight followed the path of the polearm and had recently mastered its versatility nine months ago. After all, being one of the best in his field of alchemy, and having pinnacle form for unarmed combat took time to achieve. So the bow and the sword saw little in use save when he was testing a resin for sharp blades.

Fwwm!

It made for good money capitalising on his skills and first love, alchemy, but of course, he didn’t charge the guardians of Equestria for things needed for the troops. He had one or two acquaintances that needed special orders and would pay handsomely for. Easy bits to splash out on replacement equipment, ingredients, or to pool with His Majesty’s charity funding. Ser Vincent was happy to help a financially struggling orphanage or two with what he could afford to give; the prince enhanced the lives of Equestrian citizens, the knight merely prolonged them.

Thmp! Tcchhh.

Of course when the Equestrian Games came around then there was bits to be made for those who could manufacture ice arrows, but again, with this being a shipment for the Royal Guard, Vincent would offer it at a heavily discounted price. This was not for defending Equestria but rather representing it in skill, and Ser Vincent had little interest in anything other than duty and making a name for himself in regards to being a part of the Equestrain armed forces. Hence the presence of a bill at all. If they wanted this request free of charge then somepony better have their life on the line.

He stood in the empty backyard of his new abode, looking out towards the acres of apple trees in the distance. A few houses and shops littered the worn path that ran out of town before branching off towards the farm. If he were to take a good look he could spot Miss Rarity’s boutique ten minutes down the road. Instead, however, his aim was on the round target seventy paces away.

Beside him was a wooden box, emptied after being used to move his stuff to this town, and upon that was a tray of sample arrows neatly lined up. They were knitting-needle like but perfectly straight and with thin blades of white crystal fins. These were the samples of batch number four, a total of ten taken from fifty. He’d fired three already and, not that he was surprised, they were adhering perfectly to Equestrian Game regulations.

Whilst his manufacturing of olympic equipment was up to snuff, his aim with the bow was not. He was on average a few rings out from the centre marking, but if he wished for dead-eye accuracy he’d start launching spears.

Another three shots and another pair of explosive, endothermic magic erupted on impact. Heat was absorbed from the surrounding zone, a frosty aura from the imbedded stalk soon freezing the area with a flowery pattern of ice. This was something he loved about alchemy, the ability to change something in an instinct that wouldn’t normally happen. He could instantly freeze boiling water with one of these arrows.

“Hey Vinny!” He almost let fly another arrow at the sound of her raspy voice. He smoothly un-knocked the arrow, holding it in his pony-gloved hand as he looked back. Her wings flapped to steady her as Rainbow Dash came to abruptly land beside him on her hooves. Clip-clop. With her wings folded not a second later she fired a wide grin towards him. “Whatcha up to, big guy?”

He stepped to the side after fitting the bow to hang from his shoulder. He gave her a once over, “Quality testing my new batch of ice arrows with these samples. Now what gives me the honour of having you grace my presence, Miss Dash?”

She snorted and shook her head, a sign he decided was of disbelieving amusement. “Come on Vincent, you can just call me Rainbow, you know? How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Well, I have informed you of my preference to be known by my full title.” This was the only ego inflation he allowed himself on a daily basis, no more, no less. He earned his knighthood and it brought him the common decency he so desired from everypony else. When ponies addressed him they were made aware of how distinguished he was from the very first word.

“So you hate Vinny, huh?” Rainbow said with a smirk and a flick of her mane. “Good to know, good to know,” she said with a sagely nod.

He didn’t mind it at all actually. He would allow his few friends to call it him; he did attend schools after all and before he and his classmates learnt to distinguish between species he had friends that called it him. He had no friends in this town – friendly recurring faces, perhaps-- and he had the feeling that opening that can of worms here would likely start an argument.

“Most members of the guard and knights like their ranks, Rainbow, I myself am one of them.” There. The deal had been accepted.

“Cool, heh, kind of like those arrows, huh?” She leaned towards him with her hands behind her back and a wide smile on her maw.

“Your definition of subtlety has a picture of a picket sign by its side, doesn’t it?” His inquiry earned confused blink before he sighed and handed the bow over to her. “Come on then, I’ve got a few more shots.”

“Sweet! Never fired one of these bad boys before.” She grinned excitedly, tightening her grip on the bow as she took his spot and grabbed an arrow. “I thought these would be cold, you know?” She rolled the arrows in her three-digited hand, primary finger and thumb pressing into the shaft. “Feels wooden.”

“If it was cold that would mean that magic was escaping,” Ser Vincent replied from beside the tray, picking up an arrow for his own inspection. “I assure you these are proper ice arrows on par with the Equestrian Game arrows. I’ll be sending the rest back to Canterlot for a few guards to practice with,” he said as he laid the arrow to rest uniformly with the others.

“Wow, you make stuff for the guards?” He bobbed his head from side to side in mute response and she nodded along. “Ah. From time to time.” She knocked the arrow after a third attempt and drew the string back to her shoulder.

“Stop.” At his words her ears perked up and she turned to face him. He was shaking his head and pointing to the bow. “If you shoot now, the arrow will miss and fly out there,” he pointed over and past the ice-speckled targets, “And potentially hit somepony.”

“Come on, you haven’t even seen me shoot yet and you think I’m bad?” she asked, lowering the bow and putting her hand on her small chest. With a sharp eye and catty smirk she thumbed to the target. “Can’t be worse than yours.”

“My goal is to test the arrows, not hit the middle.” He folded his arms and stood with legs shoulder width apart. “Maybe you should try hitting the thing first?”

“Ooooh…” A fire burned in her pink eyes as she glanced to the arrows in front of him. One in her hand, four in the tray… two each. Not enough for a good challenge. “Tell you what, I know that these are pretty expensive.” She then focused her gaze down onto the arrow in her hand, her furred finger tapping the tip as she spoke, “You got any more?”

He slowly tilted his head, a finger lightly tapping against his arm. “One last batch, meaning ten more arrows. Why?”

She shrugged and smirked in a challenging manner. “I say I help you get through them by beating your sorry butt in an archery competition.” She boldly inflated her chest and took aim, her form good enough not to warrant his interruption. She let fly the arrow and it struck in the same zone he had been landing his own shots, if not a bit closer to the bull’s-eye. She then offered him a smug grin, raising her chin.

Oh, she had thrown down the gauntlet, or fired the arrow as the case was. She saw him mechanically turn to face the target, and if she recalled what she and the girls had learnt and pooled together in order to understand his mannerisms, he was now giving the challenge his full attention. Honestly, she didn’t really have any interest in archery – seemed dull, why fire a fast arrow when you could fly faster than an arrow? But ice arrows? That was pretty cool, literally.

“Why?” He finally asked, stunning her momentarily.

“Um, to help?” she replied a little dumbfounded. She scratched behind her ear as her tail swished. “And for fun.” And that was the second reason for the visit. She wanted to get to know Twilight’s new guard since he seemed to follow her wherever she went. Plus, he was a freaking knight! He still needed to tell her a few stories; gotta be better than being cooped up inside his house alone all day, right?

“But I can do this by myself,” he said simply, before back peddling and raising his hands, “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer.”

She scowled at him, ears flattened. “Come on, Vinny-“

“It’s Ser Vincent.” He corrected. It only made her snort.

Then, a second later, she grinned. “Wanna make a deal?” She pointed to him with the arrow tip, “You win and I call you Ser Vincent from now on.” She pointed the arrow to herself, “If I win, I get to call you Vinny.”

“No deal.”

“For a week?”

Her renegotiation landed her a hand-to-the-chin moment of consideration from the knight. “What of my part of the deal, does the duration of one week apply to me?” His inquiry was met with a vigorous shake of the head. “Permanently, then?”

“Yuhuh,” she replied with a nod. “Or at least until you loosen up a bit, right?” Her cheeky smile was disarming so he could let that jab go. “But, yeah, a deal’s a deal.”

Well that would be nice and would work to his favour. Rainbow Dash was a surprisingly busy mare, quickly zipping from place to place whilst working but making time to chat with her colleagues or friends. She did call out to him from time to time and he did politely return a greetings, he simply wished she used his title when she addressed him. That way everypony in ear shot would be reminded that he was a knight. He also found their talks to be somewhat pleasant as he tried to move through ponyville.

“Fine.” He turned to head back into the building that was his abode, “I’ll fetch the next batch.”

“I’ll meet you at the gym,” she replied, taking hold of the rest of the arrows in her free hands and flexing her wings. “It’s got a real shooting range at the back, it’s on the other side of AJ’s farm.”

At her statement he paused and slowly turned around. “Wait, what’s wrong with-“ He was too late. She had launched into the air, her lithe form twisting as she darted towards the town, a rainbow blur trailing behind. She had taken the bow with her too. His shoulders slumped as he brought a hand to his mask, stopping in time to prevent an awkward facepalm.

The archery range was behind a sturdy looking building, fenced off and with a safety net hanging behind it. Ser Vincent hadn’t entered the gym but could see remnants of its old school, hard iron roots with workout machines being simplistic in many ways—such as the scraped weights and worn handles.

The crowd stand to the side look fairly modern though, half packed too. Burly stallions and lithe mares sat with mild curiosity on their features, alongside towels across their shoulders and with drinks in their hands. He’d bumped into Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo passing the farm and all three seemed eager to cheer for the event.

He had only seen the tangerine filly once before, when he was exposed at the trainstation and she was still the same as back then: inquisitive about his work as a knight rather than say the fact he was the human. ‘Good kid.’ He liked this filly.

Yes, the ‘cutie mark crusaders’, a small club tartarus bent on discovering their cutie marks, were amongst this crowd and were cheering on both him and Rainbow Dash. She had bestowed a quiver onto him as soon as he had arrived before turning to entertain the crowd. Whilst she was showboating with the bow in her hand, flying by the crowd and earning her cheers, Ser Vincent was pulling out ten ice arrows for the duel.

He had brought a steel bin, as tall as his shin and with a lid that needed three thick clasps to hold the lid down. Mist rolled out when he uncovered the fresh batch of fifty arrows, each equally spaced apart. He sealed the bin as Rainbow came to float by, a cocky grin on her maw.

“Heck, I don’t even bow but I got a pretty good feeling about this, Ser Vincent,” she sniped playfully. He stood up and handed her five arrows whilst she gave him two from the four she had taken before: each archer now had seven arrows each. He tilted his head.

“I doubt it if you say ‘bow’ as a verb and are already referring to me by my title already.” He put his arrows into the quiver and slung it over his shoulder. His voice matched her taunting tone, “It’s understandable that a part of you realises you’re way over your head, Miss Dash. Won’t be long before you acknowledge it.”

She landed silently, wings still flared in challenge as she leant forward, hands on hip and with a toothy smirk pointed up to the taller knight. “I just thought you should at least hear me say it once,” she stated with a prod to his armoured chest. They were face to shadowed mask, him staring her down and her brimming with confidence if not cockiness. “It’ll be the last time for a long time, Vinny.”

“Then, shall the lady begin for us?” he remarked coolly as he gestured to the ice target board. It was a standard affair; black lines divided the board into six and a snowflake occupied the centre, and it was forty metres away.

Dash snorted before walking to her lane. She looked back over her shoulder, “Keep that talk for Rarity, dude.” Her wings pressed to her side, tail drooping as she drew an arrow over her back and knocked on the bow. She drew the string and took aim. “First to cover the board, m’kay?”

“If that’s easier for you.”

“You can do it, Dash!” Scootaloo cheered.

Rainbow grinned. “Thanks, squirt!” she yelled in reply. She then let the arrow fly and the entire crowd shifted their gaze from one side of the range to the other. Thmp! Tcchhh. She hit the edge of the upper right and he noted her ears wilt despite the smile. “Just warming up,” she said as she handed the bow over the knight.

He was silent and swift when he set up his shot, drawing his arrow over his shoulder and aiming it at the centre of the target in one swift motion. He drew the string, pulling back to the cheek of the mask.

“Go Mister Ser Vincent!” Apple Bloom cried. Under any other circumstances he would have been fine, any other distraction would not have possibly disturbed him.

The little filly that failed to call out his name properly had put him off, the arrow flying before he could correct himself. Thmp! Tcchhh. He hit the lower left of the target. Mechanically he lowered the bow and faced the small farmer in the crowd, finding it difficult to scowl at the beaming filly over yonder. He merely sighed as quietly as he could before handing over the bow back to Rainbow Dash.

“Oooh, I like that one,” Rainbow remarked as she withheld a snigger.

“Keep to the deal, Miss Dash.”

Both the knight and the Wonderbolt recruit (he wasn’t surprised by that) took turns, exchanging the same bow shot after shot, their targets blossoming with ice everywhere but the centre. On one hand, pony or gloved-human’s, Ser Vincent’s batch seemed to be another grand success. Alternatively, the fact that he hadn’t managed to hit the middle showed how rusty he had gotten with the bow. It didn’t help that by their sixth shot Rainbow was beating him by five inches.

The crowd seemed entertained and Ser Vincent had to admit there had been a competitive joy to this little duel. However, when Rainbow wore her trademark, befitting cocky smirk as she handed back to the bow he found the feeling fleeting. Perhaps he was a bad loser, or maybe he didn’t enjoy others gloating. Mind you… he realised he’d been smiling despite it all when his cheeks ached beneath the mask. That was certainly new.

“Last shot, Vin- no!” She stopped herself, handing over the bow with both hands and a serene look on her face. “No, no. I can wait until this next shot.” Her fiery, smug look came back when he took hold.

“I only need one, Dash,” he rebutted, stone cold voice throwing her off his true feelings. He wished he could spare more shots but… not to win the match just prolong it. Hmm, odd.

She scoffed and folded her arms under her small bust, leaning up to him. “You’ve had six, big guy.”

True, and as he took aim he realised an important detail: he wasn’t going to make it. His grouping, though improving steadily, was shifting to the left side of the centre. He had a flower of ice in every sixth of the target but no shaft stuck out in the middle. This was not one of his fortes; it was not alchemy, though it was used; it was not close range combat. In fact the closest thing befitting this moment was-

“Miss Dash?” he said, returning the bow to her. “How about you take the last one?” He reached along his belt and squared pockets as she blinked in reply.

“Uh, sure?” With wary trepidation, and a suspicious squint pointed at the knight, she took the bow and arrow. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing!” His hands flew out and from his sides in his defence, raised and empty as he started to move further away from the targets. “I just need time to prepare for my last shot.” His voice seemed warmer that it had been, and she had noticed. It was hard to tell if he was being honest, what with the mask and all, but she shrugged and readied herself for her final shot.

“Hey, isn’t it Mister Ser Vincent’s turn?!” Apple Bloom yelled.

“He’s just scared!” Rainbow taunted, looking back to the knight who was walking further and further away. Not to the exit but the back of the building amongst racking of weights and sporting equipment. When the crowd jeered she flinched, watching Ser Vincent glance back over his shoulder.

She immediately returned focus to he by knocking the arrow and drawing the string. “Alright!” she began, loudly to gain attention, “Last shot!” She steadied her breathing and positioned her arm into a safer, more comfortable position. A few times the string had snapped back to slap her wrist and wasn’t too fond of the sensation. Her aim zeroed in on the bull’s-eye, her pegasi sight showing that she just needed to lift the bow a liiiiiittle higher.

Fwwm!

Thmp! Tcchhh.

So close! The round of applause certainly made it feel like her best shot yet, but she failed to cover the middle. She took it as a moment to flaunt her wings and bring a free hand to her ear, earning a more appreciative cheer from the stand. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle cheered but she noticed Apple Bloom elbowing her unicorn friend before pointing back towards Ser Vincent.

Turning to look back, she found that the knight had finished applying something to a javelin before he pointed to her to move aside with the tip.

“Hey!” She launched towards him, and with but a few flaps she was beside him. “What do you think you’re doing?” She saw him pocket a small bottle in an outer pocket but her focus fell onto the javelin tipped with a silver slime, with wisps of mist falling from it.

“I’m taking my shot,” he simply stated before turning towards the target, “Oooh, that was certainly one of the best today.” He then looked back to her, tilting his head and smirking with his voice. “But not the best I’m afraid – that one’s next.”

“Dude, you gotta be kidding me!” She looked between him and the target, seeing that he was standing twice the distance he had been from the target previously. “There’s no way you can-“

“What is a javelin if not but a large arrow, Rainbow Dash?” He put a boot forward and had his eyes locked on target.

It was with a whip of the air and a flare of viridian that the knight seemed to snap and twist his entire body. The air was cut by the pointed tip, the javelin whistling momentarily as it was zipped through the air. The crowd watched it’s neat ark, disbelief evident the closer and closer it flew to the target.

Thud! It was with a harsh punch that the javelin did land upon the target, an four inches or so from dead centre. Whereas before the arrows exploded with an expansive blossom of ice, neat and flat along the surface this was something more brutal. Spines and needles of ice erupted around the embedded javelin, completely covering the centre.

There was brief moment of silence. The air still with awe and all eyes upon the board shaking from the impact. Dash let her jaw hang and would have kept it there had it not been for the little orange filly.

“Woah! I think Mister Ser Vincent won!” That was it. The stand erupted with a round of an applause, smiles gracing the gym visitors and they nodded in approval. A cautious few made their way over to inspect the knight’s target, experimental pokes with the ice knocking daggers of frozen water off.

“That’s Ser Vincent!” He yelled back, huffing with annoyance afterwards.

That was when Rainbow fired him a glare. “Vinny, that’s cheating!” His silence earned a harsh prod to the ever-exposed armoured chest. “Don’t think you can wriggle out of this, I thought knight held up their deals and stuff!” He folded his arms and elevated his gaze away from her, and if not for bringing a hand to his chin, she could mistake the ponderous stance for a blatant attempt to ignore her. She spread her wings and hovered in front of his lifted gaze, frowning down to him. “Not cool dude.”

“But… you won.”

“Huh?” Caught off-guard she cocked her head to the side and let her arms hang loose but held the bow firmly. “Wait-what?”

“I’m disqualified, correct? So you win, right?”

“You threw the deal?” She scratched her mane and gave him a curios look, “Why?” Why did he need to do this? Seemed a bit much to avoid earning a nickname. Then it hit her. And as she stared down with a cat-like smirk she took notice of Ser Vincent shifting his gaze away. “You just couldn’t handle losing, could you?” She shifted her hover until she was upside down and eye to mask eye before the knight. It didn’t make her grin any less obnoxious.

“Actually, I don’t mind being beaten.” He offered a sincere shrug. It was true. This wasn’t his field of expertise so obviously somepony was going to better than him. Admittedly he wished it wasn’t a complete amateur. He wasn’t all that competitive but something important was on the line today. A reputation. “It’s just that whilst I’m not good at this, what I am good at, Dash, I am very, very very good at.”

He gestured to the icy barnacle from Tartarus that used to be the target board, noting the one poor fool that had his tongue stuck to an icicle hanging from the javelin. Somepony had even brought a camera.

‘So whilst it may be said that I am inadequate with the bow, it will also be said that I am far more impressive with a spear.’ Honestly, today had turned out better than expected. At least a few more would see him as capable even if they were still hesitant to see or even talk to him.

“Hey, Vinny, there’s a thing me and AJ do called the Iron Pony challenge,” Rainbow began as she self-righted, “I get what you mean by sticking to what you’re good at, so I think that’s right up your alley. I know racing and beating Applejack’s something for me, but this time more ponies wanna join in.” She handed him back the bow, tail swishing. “It’s more track and weight tossing than throwing at bull’s-eyes and stuff. You game?”

He took back the bow and swung the quiver from his shoulder and placed it on the floor. He removed the unfired ice arrow. “I’ll think about it, I won’t deny that this…” he paused to gesture towards the archery range with the bow, carefully selecting his warm words, “was entertaining for the evening.” He then began to migrate towards the entrance, picking up the bin of arrows as Dash followed.

She drifted ahead, rainbow mane catching the light of the day as she smiled. “Awww, come on, Vinny.” She held her arms open, “You gotta try it! It’ll be a blast!”

He simply walked on, slowly tilting his head as he regarded her. He waited and persevered through her persuasion, in both its aggressive and taunting forms. Finally when out of the pointed ear shot of others, he spoke. “I told you I’ll think about it… Dashie.”

That shut her up. She quirked a less than impressed brow, “Err, Vinny, it’s just Dash or Rainbow.”

“Are you certain?” he asked, his voice turning professional, “I believe Dashie is very becoming of an adventurous mare such as yourself, Dashie.”

“Dude, chill.”

“I thought we were sharing nicknames?”

“Vinny, not that one though!” She frowned a tad as she scrunched her muzzle in repulsion. “It’s way too girly.”

He then threw his shoulders back and mimicked her voice, “Aww, come on… Dashie.” It wasn’t a good attempt, his soft baritone of a voice became muffled further when he tried to change the pitch and make it raspy also. “I’ve heard Pinkie Pie say it.”

“She’s the only one that says it. Stop it.”

“But… Dashie…”

“Stop!”

‘I guess nicknames can be fun.’

That One Thursday

Ser Vincent skulked along the forest edge, eyes peering deeply in and with a worn satchel hanging by his side. It was midday, meaning that the sun was out and he was relatively easy to see. The earth was drying, water vapour carrying the aroma of lush undergrowth even through his mask. Fortunately not many Ponyvillians (a crude but sufficient label for the locals, he thought) walked along the overgrown path, though the same could not be said for one or two jogging couples. He paid them no attention and they pretended to do the same. Tartar barbs grew like thistles and nettles in this fringe of the forest, their blue seeds a key component to his mystical bandages – they were the reason for the sapphire flecks of soothing magic and the reason for his presence.

And under the noon sun they bloomed daily. He would see these wisps of aqua and blue rise and fall from the cruel looking plants, like beckoning pixies dancing around this thorned miracle. It fed through both photosynthesis and arcanesynthesis: it converted light and rural, background magic into sustenance and nutrition. He learned of their presence through Zecora, a slight deviation from gathering poison joke but one he was fine with.

There! He stepped into the forest with rustling grass and leaves beneath his boots, his coat almost making him melt into the surroundings. The tartar barbs were clustered and a knotted mess. Stalks and roots strangled the competition amidst the undergrowth. He squatted before the mesh of barbs and razor leaves, unafraid of any sharp flora breaching his layers of clothing. Ser Vincent flipped open the satchel by his side, glancing in to remove sealable plastic bags, tweezers and other instruments of extraction.

A gallop of hooves drew attention from ahead, too quick to be a biped. Instantly he sprung up and searched the trees for the source deep within. He raised his arms before him, three-digited gloves flexing to strike like cobra fangs. Something was charging at him and it was disturbing his alone time. No mission, no ponies, just him, some plants, and plans for an afternoon of alchemy.

At the shine of a white pelt he tensed, lowering his stance. At the panicked yelp he tilted his hooded head. At the heart shaped eye-patch covering the left eye he reached recognition. At the shimmer of gold horns in the sunlight he exhaled. Stan, the large peace antelope bound between the trees at incredible speed, practically teleporting between the backs of birches whenever he disapeered from Ser Vincent’s sight. That is, until the distressed buck clipped a cruel root a few feet away from the knight.

With a shrill shriek of pain and fear, Stanley tripped and bowled over himself. “Impressive as ever, Stan,” Vincent remarked before one-hundred pounds of buck slammed into him. He was prepared to grapple with a beast, his stance perfect for using his would-be predator’s weight against it. Though his hands struck quicker than wronged union members, his grip sturdier than stone, he allowed himself to be moved by the furry projectile.

He took the blow to protect the rampaging antelope. He was knocked back into a roll, the golden antler tucked under the chin of his mask. Stan writhed as the world inverted and reverted, groaning when both parties slid onto the fading path.

“Let’s see what’s got you worked up, shall we?” Ser Vincent gently pushed the beast off him as quick as he was able too. Something had the antelope scared and may have been pursuing him. He peered into the woods but found that Stan, even whilst scrambling to all fours, was nipping at his gloves.

“What?” After getting a solid hoofing, the eye-patched buck moaned at him and backed into the forest. It made four shaky steps before glancing back, groaning again and turning. “In there?” Ser Vincent pointed deeper into the woods and was met with Stan standing on his hind legs and nipping the pointing finger. With a tight grip he tried to drag the knight deeper in but the human didn’t budge. His hooves slipped and scrapped as Stanley attempted in vain to move Ser Vincent. He’d have better luck pulling a mountain with just a yoke.

“Stop it.” Stan released the knight. Vincent flexed his spittle-soaked glove, flicking off a bit of saliva. His words were stern, commanding, “Lead the way.” Ser Vincent then followed the friendly yet strange, half-blind creature that was Stanley the peace antelope into the woods.

Deeper into the woods brought more humidity and an abundance of forest aromas and symphonies; drying mud, a few blossoming bushes, numerous bird calls, and dung in certain places, all subtle nuances caught in a passing breeze under the heavy scent of undergrowth. He was lead to a fallen tree that seemed to be swallowed by the earth after breaking split in two. He spied the remnants of a burrows under the upped roots, parts of a tunnel system now exposed for all to see. Ser Vincent approached warily, half in caution of edge of the large hole and half because Stan still seemed distressed. He yelped and scratched at the lip of the hole, impatiently pacing the threshold as the knight stepped over a thick fallen branch.

“Something down there?” Had the antelope lost a friend? Stan called back in that dull moan of his, pawing at the edge with his hoof. Ser Vincent kept his masked gaze to the surroundings as he neared the hole. He remembered the last time he was came into this forest and wasn’t prepared to drop his guard, even if he wasn’t as deep in as before.

He stood at the edge, loose rock and dirt rolling into the abyss-like hole. The tree seemed to be burrowed canopy first. Stan attempted to peak by the knight’s side but reared back when the earth crumbled at the lip.

It was too dark and so Ser Vincent pulled out a small wind light, the gemstone green, perfectly spherical and with a bundle of string wrapped around. It was as strange set up; moderately skilled alchemy craft was at work and here it was tied down by wound up twine. Simple but effective, like wearing a pony outfit to make other’s think you were a pony, he supposed.

He unwound enough of the string and left the malachite crystal orb exposed. He then swung it over his head to get the magic activated before lowering it into the hole. Deeper and deeper in went until, at the bottom, something large caught his eye. In the brightness of the aqua glow, a body lay. A pony’s.

Pale wings poked out the back of a dark hoody, the Equine legs had shorts with the legs wrapped up half-way along the thigh, the hooves tipped with short blue boots. A rose-petal pink mane and tail were splayed out in disarray, covering the hip, and the bunny ears atop the hoody were bent and soiled.

“Hello?!” Ser Vincent called down, unslinging his collection bag. A small white rabbit then bound into view far below and stopped atop the stomach of the pony. It hopped on the spot, waving it paws and squeaking. “Move. I’ve coming down.”

He dropped the gem light – they were, relatively speaking, easy to make for one of his calibre -- flooding the pit with aqua light. He heard it dink and bounce as he glanced back to Stan who had taken a seat on his haunches behind the knight. His ears wilted as he met the jade eyes of the knight. “Good find.” That earned a snort and then a whine.

Ser Vincent then stepped close to the edge, gazing down as he studied directly below. He knew exactly how to get this pony out. He simply needed to prepare himself and be quick. Now, Ser Vincent was never truly capable of activating his magic; it was an instinctive brand of magic that twisted him to be more and less human as he grew in the womb. He couldn't focus and trigger it as unicorns did and it wasn’t as passive as an earth pony’s strength was. All he had learnt he could do was control and stop it from activating.

He could, however, put himself in a position where fear played with his instinct and could potentially lead to an adrenaline rush. From there he could allow magic to rush through his body, usually with a mild case of heart burn at the start. What was one of Ser Vincent’s fears? What struck terror into the kind of knight that wrestled with house-tall timber wolves?

He scanned the underground pit for any debris and found nothing that would cause harm. Then, with a deep breathe, he looked to the sky, craning his head up. And slowly, bold in step but with heart racing in dreadful anticipation… Ser Vincent jumped in.

As he felt the rush of air take him, surging through the little spaces and crevices of his armour and coat, he saw the sky become almost swallowed by the earth. He felt a primal part of him cry out for footing beneath his boots, its scream racing down and chilling his spine, aching for a floor he couldn’t see coming but knew was. His heart fluttered and overworked for a fleeting moment that lasted five times longer than it actually was, and with that, Ser Vincent felt his magic awaken.

A groggy, little, barely worthwhile speck of magic awoke. Vincent felt it whenever something mundane startled him, such as a pegasus flying close, quick and low over head, and he’d learnt to allow it to rest and return to being dormant. He had also learnt how to spur this ember into a blaze of magic; he gripped it and felt a rush surge throughout his core as adrenaline began to course through his arteries. They worked in tangent; whenever he had adrenaline in his blood he had magic and vice versa.

He landed hard, shocked literally and figuratively, and scanned the area with a golden aura flowing from the eyes of the mask. The wind light was a longer lasting variety so he’d have little concern about that. The aqua glow simply became a plain light, his vision switching to focus on anything that moved, such as the two brown rabbits that bound over to their friend and the still pony. At this point in the rush his mind worked faster and the world seemed slower. He could see the muscle of those hind legs shift under the chocolate fur.

Quickly he moved towards the fallen pony, reaching into a belt-fixed pocket to retrieve a red, corked vial no bigger than his thumb. He placed it to the side as he knelt before them, the larger bunny hopping off as the knight cradled the head.

When he moved the hooded head to look at the face the fur burst to life with colour; her butterscotch coat was hardly dusted with dirt, a droplet of crimson seeped from her nostril, the rosy mane fell over one of her closed eyes, and he recognised the soft, sweet features of the mare. The cutie mark on her hip was also a big give away. It was Miss Fluttershy! And… she was wearing a rabbit hoody with a belt with squared pockets like his but blue.

“Fluttershy!” he shouted, his voice clear and bouncing in the small space. He gave her a gentle shake. “Miss Fluttershy! Wake up!” That stirred a meek mewl from her, eyes tightening shut, ears falling under her hood. He grabbed the red vial and popped the cork, placing his thumb over the lip and giving it a good shake. He placed the vial under her nose and removed his thumb. She stirred to life as scarlet fumes touched her olfactory sense, teal eyes fluttering open before closing again. Angel, for he assumed the dove-white, animated bunny was the one from when he first met her, hopped next to him, thumping the knight with his foot for attention.

“She’ll wake up shortly, but for now, let’s get her to the hospital.” He assumed that was what the aggressively worried bunny wanted to know, and it must have been as Angel then backed off. “Now let us leave this place.”

She’d awake in time but that was short. His half-tamed magic was a rush after all, and though he could prolong it, he could not maintain indefinitely. He would do what he set out to do whilst he still could. He scooped her up in his arms, supporting her head and minding her unfolded wings. He took a few steps back from the fallen tree trunk buried down there, scanning the ground for a few of the branches that had fallen. When he closed his eyes the glow left the mask. After sucking in a lungful of air he opened his eyes, two brilliant braziers of golden light exploding from the twin eye-holes of the mask. Vincent then charged towards the trunk.

He leapt at its mid-point and landed a solid boot. The knight's weight shifted as he spun around on the spot, feeling his center of gravity shift and spin in the slowed, fleeting moment. His balance was impeccable with heightened reflexes and agility but he was losing it. With all his strength in his legs he launched himself up and out of the hole.

Angel stared up, brows raised. He’d never seen a pony do that kind of thing that didn’t have wings like his carer-slash- servant-slash-master, and yet, this one practically took off! He also smelt like… nothing. Those eyes too! He knew ponies couldn’t do that with their eyes. It did bother the perpetually frowning rabbit but not for long seeing as he did rescue his friend. And… left him and his friends trapped down in this hole. With a growl he pulled on his ears, hopping from foot to foot as he friends shirked back, closer to the glowing rock the other pony left behind.

Thump! Angel opened his eyes to see the other pony had returned, looming over the rabbit. He then knelt down, glancing at the rabbits with shimmering, wispy eyes.

“I’ve been informed that you three are to come with me,” Ser Vincent said as he stretched out his arms, “All aboard.”

“You!” The stallion’s voice was curt, fierce, and commanding, “Which way to the hospital?”

“Errr…”

“Sir, please, hurry!” he continued, his voice ragged and out of breath.

“Straight ahead then take the second right out of town, along the paved path!”

“Much obliged!”

Fluttershy stirred to the scent of spice and musk, to a vigorous swaying and a faint rustle of metal. With a small squeak she felt a spike of pain pierce her mind. Her eyes opened to a bright day in Ponyville, not the dark of a pit in the forest. Still half-awakened, she had only just realised she was being carried, her teal stare rising to the masked knight as he ran with her.

“S-s… Vincent?” she managed, drawing his attention.

“Ah, wonderful!” he cheered, “You’re quite the heavy sleeper, Miss Fluttershy.” She felt his form relax as he held her in his strong arms, his speed diminishing to a brisk walk. "Yes, woke up for a moment after getting out of the collapsed burrow, muttered your concerns and then passed out. Had me worried for a moment." He then shook his head. "Ugh, confounded after effects. Always gets me a little bit gobby in the wake of success. Bah! I don't usually like talking when my magic is leaving my body, feel like a blathering idiot."

Her ears twitched beneath the hood to the many voices surrounding them. She then remembered she was wearing her bunny hoody. It was surprisingly comfortable and cute, but the reason it made for one of the few pieces of clothing he owned was because a few of her animal friends liked it.

“It’s him. Where’s he going it Fluttershy?” She heard the onlooker but dared couldn’t manage to turn her head without making the throbbing pain worse.

“What happened to her?”

“Do you think he had something to with it?”

“What?”

“Well… Mrs Cake said she saw him with fangs so…”

“No way! He’s Princess Twilight’s guard and that's one of her best friends…”

She frowned at the meanies in the crowd. It was a good thing that there were also ponies sticking up for Ser Vincent but at the same time she tell they still wanted nothing to do with him. So many ponies were still scared of him, more so now that he had started to protect Twilight so vigilantly. Ow, her head...

“I have to know Miss Fluttershy, what happened?”

His questioning startled her from her thoughts. She looked up to find him tilting his head at her, the only readable sign of curiosity from the knight. “Um, I was helping Angel’s bunny friends move house, err, well, technically burrows.” She winced as the memories came back, breaking through like a chick escaping the egg shell. “They had a really big home and it was weakening the bottom of the dead tree.” She rested against his expanding and contracting chest briefly, deciding that it wasn’t helping her headache.

“I see, but how did the tree split into two? What made it fall?” he asked. He had to keep her talking, to keep her awake. He suspected she might have a concussion. It didn’t make sense for a pegasus not to fly away but one that might have taken a blow to the head from a heavy branch might not have such an option.

“It was pretty weak, I think something hollowed out the middle and lived there for a while. My friends wanted me to help them move out after it nearly fell over yesterday.” She gasped, eyes wide. “Wait, where’s Angel?!”

Ser Vincent stopped momentarily, turning to show what was trailing behind. “He and his friends are perfectly fine.” Stanley was following the knight, tongue lolling out and with the knight’s collection bag hanging from his neck. It was fastened to stop the peace antelope from eating the tartar barbs. Angel and his friends were riding upon Stan’s back, her friend waving at her. “Hmm, I set out for a few ingredients for my bandages and came back with that plus one lost antelope and three fuzzy bunnies.” His tone warmed with mirth after he chuckled, “Or perhaps that’s four rabbits?”

Scarlet burned through her cheeks as Fluttershy tried to hide under her mane automatically, her blush deepening as she felt a rabbit ear fold and touch her nose. “It’s…or talking to…”

“Pardon my teasing, Miss Fluttershy,” he added with a shake of the head. “I don’t mean to embarrass you. I really need to rein myself in until I'm calmed. For what it’s worth it is very befitting, very cute.” That was heart wrenchingly true: she was adorable in the rabbit hoody, despite the disheveled state it was in. He hoped he hadn’t brought down her confidence in anyway.

“T-thank you,” she managed with a sheepish smile.

“I mean it, I don’t wish to dishearten you.” He doubted he could live with the guilt.

She perked up at his words, her blush receding as she tried to raise her head. “No, no, its fine, you didn’t.” Her tail flicked to life, brushing against his coat. He turned to keep walking towards the hospital.

“It’s an interesting piece. I've always wondered what goes into a ponies choice of clothing,” he said, glancing to pony that wore some trendy goggles and a jumper. The poor stallion froze on the spot, Ser Vincent deciding to let his stare linger for the heck of it before looking back to Fluttershy. “For me it’s imperative to my daily life, as you can imagine.”

“Oh, I just like rabbits and my animal friends like it too!” she answered. She nodded to herself, eyes closing, “A lot of animals in the forest also like it because it makes me seem less like a pony, only a little but enough to get them to talk to me.” It was a silly thing but if it helped it helped. For one thing, Mr Manticore was calmer when she wore this. She stopped nodding, blinking before regarding the knight with a strange look.

“I see, then it was hypocritical of me to poke fun at it,” he replied with a slow, deliberate nod.

“So, um, do you always wear all this?” she asked, ears falling under the hood. “I mean if you don’t want to tell me that’s fine but—“

“Yes, I do.” He made his words friendly, as ‘matter-of-factly’ as would sound natural.

“Even in Canterlot?”

“Yes.”

“Did you grow up there?”

“Yes.”

“So when did… what made you…” she trailed off as he tilted his head. She didn’t want to be nosey but at the same time she was curious. She just wanted to keep the conversation going and satisfy her intrigue but maybe she was stepping over a line.”

“I grew up without it, but when I started working as a knight my badge just wasn’t enough for some. See, for a time, you work with a veteran, usually one that’s about to retire in a couple of years. You’re their squire for a while.” He sighed under mask before continuing, melancholy touching his tone, “He always had to vouch for me, which strained my attempts to work alone. In the end he recommended that maybe I should try a disguise.”

He huffed bitterly. “Well, his exact words were put a bag over your head with eye holes.” He felt the burn in his heart vanish after one more breathe-- the magic had gone.

“Oh my, that’s horrible!” Fluttershy said, shocked.

“It worked.” He said with a shrug, earning a squeak from the mare still in his knotted arms. “Took time to get used to; I had to change how I operated, and things changed from there as I learnt how to wear gloves two fingers less, how to use said gloves, to see with a mask, and much more.” He fell silent for a moment. “It worked. Mostly. There’s been times when I’ve lost my mask and everypony’s become scared of me. I don’t mind the bad guys fearing me, that’s a very good thing. It’s natural to listen to the thing that scares you. But ponies like you?” He glanced to the locals that stared back, especially the ones that tried to avert their gazes. “Knight’s don’t scare good ponies and yet I do. But with this I managed to get by for five years. Nopony thought I wasn’t a pony.”

Once more he fell quiet before looking back to her. “Well, they used to. I could go back home to Canterlot after losing my mask in, say, Fillydelphia, but now I’m stuck here.”

“I don’t think you’re scary.” Fluttershy said. He was like Mr. Bear! Very standoffish until he felt comfortable enough to put his guard down. She saw some similarities between her and Ser Vincent, in that both of them hated crowds or being stared at. Or she used too. Maybe not as much? Her friends helped her with that, especially Rainbow Dash. ‘He just needs to stop hiding! Or start looking friendly.’

“I assumed as much when you didn’t leap out of my arms like a…” He trailed off as he regarded her with a skewed glance. “Like a jackrabbit, really.” He chuckled warmly, sincerely, and she returned a soft smile. That is until she realised what was going on.

“Um, Ser Vincent, can you, um, can you put me down?” He stopped as she shrunk beneath her mane again. “I really appreciate that you’ve carried me this far but you must be getting tired.”

“Hardly, but if you think you can manage, Miss Fluttershy then I’ll try it.”

She shakily placed her booted hooves onto the cobblestone street, buttery legs wobbling as she leant onto the knight for support. She beamed down to Stanley when he came to her other side, thanking him and petting Angel.

“Ser Vincent, like I was saying, I don’ think you’re scary and I’m not the bravest pony around.” She looked back up to the knight that gently held her arm. “And if I’m being honest, that mask is scarier than your actual face because I don’t know how you feel about something or-or-or I feel like you’re watching me when you might not be, and-and I feel like you don’t really like wearing it, especially on a hot day like this so maybe you can try… to…”

She clammed up, her resolved dissolving as he stared back cold and statuesque. No emotion for her to read, no signs for her to pick up, nothing – it was truly unpony-like. No ears splayed back or pointed up, no eyes saddened or brow bunched up in anger, no lips pulled up at the cheeks or finishing a crestfallen look. She was looking to a blank void of pure non-emotion and it was thinking and feeling and looking back, all the while hiding it well.

“True, it does get warm, especially in the summer.” He began, patting her arm. “True, this mask can be scary, but most ponies aren’t sacred of it so it’s fine.” He studied the gap between them. “But… something is working. So I won’t be taking off the mask anytime soon.”

“What about indoors?” She asked as the knight lead her forward. “Like, with just me and the girls.” She then felt Angel pull her to keep her upright. Looking to her little friends upon the back of her bigger friend made her realise something important. “Oh, speaking of which, Ser Vincent, if I have to stay the night in hospital, do you mind telling the girls that I might need to stay at the hospital for a few days and that if that happens, could they look after my animal friends for me?”

“Certainly,” the knight quickly replied, glad to have the topic of conversation steer away from him. “I’ll ensure arrangements can be made to look after your friends in your absence, Miss Fluttershy.”

“C-c-can you help them, if you’re not busy doing, um, knightly stuff.”

“I suppose if I am not on duty, away on a mission, nor is anypony else available, then I will gladly assist in looking after the animals as much as I can,” he replied candidly. He leant forward, pointing a gaze towards Stan as the buck tried to chew through the tough collection bag. “Though I suspect all my focus will be on this one.”

Stanley glanced to the knight through his one good eye, releasing the bag and calling to the knight in that dull, loud, happy moan of his.

“Oh, and one more teeny, tiny, little thing,” she said with a soft smile and begging teal eyes.

It left him cautious when he looked down to her but his voice hid it well, “What is it?”

“Can you just call me Fluttershy?”

“Certainly.”

That One Friday

It was a sun-setting evening when Ser Vincent arrived Carousel Boutique, the perfect time to collect his coat: like the early mornings, few ponies were around. The bell chimed as he entered into the elegant front room.

It functioned both as a boutique and living room; platforms and cordoned off mirrors provided grandiose appreciation and reflection, racks of fine dresses skirted the room, as did mannequins suited with ballroom gowns; a familiar work station was sat to one side, by the stair case, and nearby was a small, cosy waiting area. He remembered being there, he remembered the conversation he had with Rarity. The walls were either a pleasant lavender or soft pink, the royal hues blending, the room scented with faint traces of a familiar lilac perfume.

“One moment!” Rarity sung from behind a door. Ser Vincent waited, captivated by a certain piece among the other magnificent dresses.

“You need not rush, Miss Rarity,” he called back as he approached the dressed mannequin. It wore the once-scarred long coat, the lackluster forest tone rejuvenated into a healthy leafy hue. It was perfectly repaired; where there was once slashes there were stitches closing the wounds, blending with the new floral pattern along the right arm. The thread was just a shade or two darker.

It was what was beneath that caught his green eyes.

“Ser Vincent, darling!” Rarity sauntered out of a backroom, dressed as usual. She was sporting an ivory cocktail dress, the hem reaching her knees, a pearl necklace bringing out her powdery fur. Simple but effective, like her cheery smile. “I did wonder when you’d return.”

“Forgive me for keeping a lady waiting,” he replied, shifting his voice to be as equally as friendly. “I’ve been busy in recent days.”

“I’ve heard,” she said with admiration. Rarity crossed the room, mane and tail bouncing as she rolled her hand back and forth between points, “Vendors suddenly know not to overcharge you and the spa’s abuzz with your aim and how you saved dear Fluttershy.” She stopped by the mannequin, looking up with a gratuitous smile. “Thank you, Ser Knight, she means the world to me.”

“I’m glad she’s fine,” he said with a slow nod. He gestured around the room. “I do believe I missed all this the last time came by. It’s very impressive.” Truly, the variety in fine clothing was evidence of either a savvy business mare or a passionate tailor.

“So kind of you to say, almost risked losing a couple of beauty sleeps for these designs.” She sighed wistfully, pride shimmering in her eyes as they fell onto her hard work. “Fashion week has arrived in Manehatten,” She flicked her mane towards numerous travel trunks and dresses highlighted with glistening purple. The fashionista brought her hands to her chest, clutching a sudden suppressed ecstatic demeanour. Her ears perked as she giggled excitedly, clapping, “Manehatten, oh, I can’t wait!”

She then looked to him, waving her excitement off for the moment, “But enough about that! What do you think?”

He knew exactly what to think of the set up and how it was baited. He’d walk in, find the coat, and the suit beneath. He removed the coat for a better study: there was a long sleeve, double breasted doublet, with gold trimmings and buttons on the emerald fabric. It had no collar but the white shirt beneath provided one, and a neat viridian tie. The pants were an earthly brown, like rich soil freshly soaked. A belt similar to his was wrapped around the waist, the buckle a heater shield shape of silver metal and stamped with an opal core.

Very neat, simple, professional, and stylish too. ‘Certainly impressive.’ He reached for the coat, ‘Shame that I’m not one to be seen in it.’ It would be better for a pony that didn’t hide behind a mask, or would actually be attending formal events as a guest. “You’ve done a remarkable job. I’ll be able to get more life out of—“

A coppery scent stopped him. Another sniff brought him close to the embroidery on the arm of the coat. “Something’s new.” Looking to Rarity only revealed the ghost of a smile on her lips.

Rarity shifted her weight to one side and curled her mane with a hand, “Taking into account that the thread used in your… attempts were different to anything that I’ve used before I gave a sample to Twilight.” She folded her arms under her modest bust, grinning with self-accomplishment. “She informed me that it was tougher stuff and of a stallion that could get me a couple spools of diamond spindle.” Rarity approached the coat, laying a gentle hand on Vincent’s shoulder at the same time. “Honestly, it’s dull to look at but it soaks up dye dreadfully well – shame it’s a bit too stiff for finesse.” She removed her hand before the knight could.

She cocked her head to the side and studied the floral pattern for even the slightest imperfection that dared show up. “Fantastic for becoming alchemy attuned, too.”

Ser Vincent jerked his head back, mildly impressed. “What improvements have you made?” He was genuinely curious.

“Me?” Rarity asked aghast. “Fates no! I asked Zecora if she knew of anything that would fire proof the thread and was delighted to find she knew of a potion. After dying them a lovely emerald – I adore how the contrast catches the light— I handed her the spools and she soaked them for as long they were needed.” Rarity drew her finger over the embroidery, “Obviously I waited for them to dry before daring to handle it but the aroma lingers, only for another day or so.” Rarity winced as she looked up to the knight, “Then I would have invited you over to collect it.”

Her dedication was certainly commendable. “This is simply fantastic.” He had no idea if Zecora’s work was up to snuff but if it was then this was a tremendous boon. “How much is due?” he inquired as he gestured only to the coat.

“Oh that’s for free, dear.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said I’d do it free of charge, and quite frankly for the opportunity to work with new materials was a bonus.” She shrugged and smirked. “Though I suspect it’s a niche market working with alchemy attuned threads and fabrics.”

Well he was rarely one to look a gift horse in the mouth. ‘A tip should suffice.‘ Then came the inevitable, the suit that the coat once covered like ill-concealing stage curtains. He gestured towards it, “And this is…”

“Oh, this was just something I cobbled together after we talked about what exactly you wanted.” A dazzling azure aura engulfed her horn as well as a few short stacks of shirts of different colours. “Speaking of which, I don’t have your exact measurements – I did my best but I can only do so much given all that armour and cloth.” The shirts followed her to a privacy screen where she then turned to face the knight. “I may have to make a few alterations but I will require your assistance.”

His bewilderment and disbelief broke through his voice, “You wish for me to change? Here?” He shook his head and pointed his mask towards the suited mannequin.

“Ser Vincent, you don’t have to,” she placated, “It’s just… more for my sake, you see. I truly want to offer the best of my efforts with anything I do.” Her sapphire eyes shifted to the stack of shirts, “Well, they’re not the best of my potential but if it’s what you want, then I’ll give you my best. The same with anypony else. I’d hate for you to think I was incapable due to a tight collar.”

Pride? She’s worried about her pride? ’Then again, I can relate after the evening with Dash… but what she’s asking…’ He rubbed the back of his hood, his masked gaze falling onto his repaired coat. It was better than new, her skill was unquestionable, her thoughtful nature obvious… Ser Vincent did indeed grow up with a tailor that he and his parents visited. Given that he grew up in Canterlot they were the only one he visited. It wasn’t a new experience but getting a new tailor was disconcerting.

With trepidation obvious in his voice he said, “I can sympathise and given that you already know what I am, and have treated me kindly, I suppose I can trust you.” He took a cautious step, “I hope you know the level of trust I am giving you, as a professional.”

Rarity smiled and nodded. “Of course. You made it perfectly clear how much you value your privacy.” She glanced to the suit on her mannequin, sapphire eyes sparkling as she smirked. ‘Not yet but soon.’

Ser Vincent found little comfort in the enclosure behind the screen; the foldable panel connected to the wall. At the end was a tall mirror, beside it some racking. ‘A sufficient fitting room’ He slumped the repaired coat on the racking.

He peeled off his coat slowly, as if it itself was as reluctant to part from him as he it. ‘She’s seen you without your coat before.” That made shedding his third skin a little easier, but the cool air of the boutique on his ears and neck set him on edge. He turned and hung his coat over the screen, the rustle of his scaled second skin louder without the hood. Ser Vincent tried on his improved coat, working the right arm with the embroidery. It twisted smoothly enough and the copper scent wasn’t offending. He had spares anyway.

Rarity took the hanging coat with her magic, “Just making space over the top for you, dear.” He agreed and she noted a book stuffed into one pocket. She was rather curious but ignored it.

Ser Vincent worked the hidden latches with his exposed hands and made short work of loosening the scaled armour that gripped his body snugly. Like a vest, the thick chest guard was removed, the sleeves following next and leaving a golden chain mail: it was standard guard protection against telekinetic grips of unicorns. This combined with the hydra-esque pieces made for an incredibly enduring chainmail set.

Finally, and with unsteady bare hands, Ser Vincent slowly undid the straps of his mask. The mask was within arm’s reach as he faced the mirror. There it was, a human in its physical prime cowering from the world beyond the silk screen. He spotted Rarity’s glowing horn through the divider, her perfume tickling his nose. For the first time in years Ser Vincent stood half naked in another pony’s home. It was as if his senses had been awakened but maybe that was due to the anxiety gripping his throat. ‘Keeeeep talking—you’re a knight, this should be nothing!’ Vincent hated the pity of others but not more so than from himself. “Do you design these dresses yourself?"

“Oh, absolutely!” Rarity chimed, beaming with pride. “I simply love making new dresses for clientele, why, I always make my own dresses. And put my heart, nay, my very soul in each and every one!”

“Then I fear for the competition you face in Manehatten, it hardly seems to be fair.” His absentminded remark was for the sake of keeping the conversation flowing as it seemed to be holding him together. His well-built form felt exposed to the cool surroundings. Was Carousel Boutique always like this? Was it Ponyville? Canterlot was a mountain city so nearly every building was intrinsically warmed, but here? Did ponies just rely on their fur coats? 'Of course they do, idiot.'

Rarity tittered and physically took hold of the coat by the collar, surprised by the weight. “Such a flatterer!” Well how about that? The knight knew how to be charming if he tried, he just needed to try harder around others. Poor thing. Glancing down, she spotted a small citrus gemstone in another pocket. Again, she dared not pry. “It’s less of a competition and more of a show. A collaboration of other dressmakers and that makes it all the more exciting!” She sighed wistfully amidst the still orbiting shirts. “It’s a truly wonderful event.”

Ser Vincent unknowingly smiled as he set his gear aside, looking to the blue glow shining through the screen that signified Rarity’s position. It was always wonderful to see a pony achieve and accomplish where they were talented. “Well, good luck this weekend, enjoy yourself. Sorry to bother you with my shirts, and speaking of which, I’m ready… I guess.”

A shirt flew over and he regarded with a quirked brow; it was a cyan shade brighter than Rarity’s magic. Hardly earthly hued. Regardless he put it on.

“Now, don’t be afraid to tell me if it needs resizing,” she said before eyeing the suit still on the mannequin. “And thank you, I do hope it will be a brilliant get-away for me and the girls, especially Twilight.” She smirked, “I do plan on treating them to Hinny of the Hills, but I do wonder, do I have to seek approval from you first, what with you being her guard and all?”

A genuine amused huff escaped as he fitted the shirt – a bit tight around the shoulders he noted. “Just be back by eighteen-hundred monday, or else I’ll have to chase you up.”

She blanched. “Oh dear me, running? I’d rather hand myself in.”

“Hinny of the Hills, huh?” he continued, his mind drawing out the file with what he remembered about the show. “Personally not one of Muse’s best work but never the less an excellent performance. Have you seen it before?” He removed his shirt once again.

Rarity was caught off guard but regained her wits. An opportunity to know the knight better? “Never, but I have heard so many wonderful things about it, why, it’s critically acclaimed! I take it you’ve seen it?”

The shirt was hung over the screen. “It’s a bit tight around the shoulders.”

Rarity summoned a clip board and freshly inked quill, taking the shirt and notes.

Ser Vincent continued with the distraction, “It deserves its praise. I was offered the chance to see it after capturing a bog wyvern that had roosted in the sewer beneath the city. Hunted at dusk. Got to see the show after falling through the theatre roof whilst wrestling the poor git out the sky.”

“You’re joking,” she said incredulously.

“You can ask the theatre manager herself – landed right on top of the titular hill too.”

Her pony ears caught his quiet chuckle as she delivered another shirt and so began a back and forth, of experience had by one and experience another had to try. Rarity found him to be quite insightful as the cosmopolitan stalli… man that he was. He knew of several high end perfume shops. Why? Because some perfumes were a key ingredients for repellents against giant snagle-toothed ripraws and such. Which restaurants should she take her friends to for a bite to eat? High Serenity was perfect for an evening meal, a pegasus friendly place with a splendid view of the setting sun as he found out guarding Prince Blueblood.

She found that the notes for shirt alterations were soon joined by jottings of activities to try. And that, in fact, the spicy cologne she caught in his presence was actually a part of his coat. But the topic was mostly about musical numbers.

“Well if you insist, Miss Rarity, I’ll be sure to give it a try when I can.”

“But remember, it’s Estranged Colours before Mercury Touched, don’t make the same mistake I did.”

Ser Vincent in turn steadily lost the sense of dread that once gnawed his nerves. Operas and musicals were topics he was well versed in, and to be engaged in another besides Blueblood about them was both refreshing and a welcomed distraction. He couldn’t escape the horrid rolling stone in his gut whenever he glanced at the mirror and saw his naked face, however. He did his best to ignore it.

“My word, you certainly do get around,” he heard her say as he fitted a grassy green shirt, one that was comfortably taut around his abdominals. “Mind you, that little picture wall of yours is quite interesting. I suppose that is to you as my designs hanging from these rack are to me, no?”

He unknowingly grinned but felt he quirk of his own brow, “In a way, I suppose. I enjoy drawing my missions in a sketchbook and when I feel it’s time to move on to a different part of Equestria, I pick the best missions and post them onto ‘The Wall’.”

Rarity glance back to Ser Vincent’s coat she had put aside. There, poking out a bulging pocket, was the small book. “Is the book in your pocket also one of these sketchbooks?”

Ser Vincent paused removing a shirt, a frown forming. “Aye.” He kept his voice cool. “Feel free to sate your curiosity. When I first got to Ponyville it was at the end of a month long chain of successful missions, but I had little time to draw them. I’m a bit backlogged with drawings from east of here.” He swelled with pride.

It was an extremely dangerous slog through thirty days and nights sleeping on trains and enduring some of the worst of Equestria. A positive was that he personally enjoyed train rides, a childish indulgence associated with travel. Professionally, he could say this was on his record and hardly on anypony else’s.

Rarity withdrew the sketchbook and simultaneously took the green shirt that appeared over the top of the screen. With a flicker of magic she set it onto the pile she mentally dubbed as ‘satisfactory’ and returned one that she had altered. Rarity stepped closer to the screen as she opened the book.

Clip-clop, clip-clop…

Vincent held a breath and scowled at the lapse into silence. The cool air of the boutique was brought to the front of his mind. He was so exposed. He shook his head and retried the cyan shirt again.

Rarity studied each picture and was impressed with the detail. ‘Hmm, landscapes and criminals? Interesting.’ Numbers and dates were jotted on the bottom of scenic pages. Co-ordinates? Likely. A beautiful ocean here, a dense forest on the other page, a magnificent waterfall soon following. And besides these scenes? Thuggish stallions, terrible beasts, grotesque monsters; all sorts of dangerous riff raff.

“I’m rather drawn to the colour scheme,” Rarity complimented as she turned a page, “Very eye-catching and simplistic. Anypony inspire you? I’m getting Rouge Brush in his later years.” She stood beside the screen, looking to it. “You’re surprisingly multi-talented, however do you find time?”

“I picked up my drawing habit from my alchemy tutor. I took his advice: draw the plant and recite its magical qualities.” It was torturous but effective. An ill-drawn anther or a forgotten term would lead to another and make him start over from scratch. Still, he knew most of his ingredients by heart because of it. “The colour scheme’s due to how I perceive the world with magic.”

“Could you elaborate further?” Rarity inquired, finding a couple of later sketches to be without the one-colour-highlight theme.

He explained the basics of his instinctive ability and how his visions becomes drawn to motion. He held the blue shirt in his bare human hands, simply admiring the colour. “Anything still loses colour saturation and anything that lunges at me explodes with colour. I pick which colour struck me the most and that’s the colour I use.”

“Interesting,” she replied before turning to the last drawn page. It was of Ponyville town hall shaded only with graphite silver. No colour but enough detail and lighting to make it one the best piece in the book. Whilst the collection was not of masterpiece tier it was never the less brilliant. She could just sense the dedication in this. “I see that there’s a Ponyville drawing but no corresponding half.”

He fell silent after fitting the shirt. It was perfect.

“Which strikes me as odd-- this one seems to have more attention than the rest, is there something in particular I’m missing or it just unfinished?” She tilted her head and brought a hooked finger to her lip. “It’s not dated like the others either.”

‘Hmmm. Landscape to monster, horizon to beast, scene to brutes but this one is out of place. Why?’ She pondered over this thought for longer than she intended before realising that Ser Vincent had been silent all this time. “Ser Vincent? Is something wrong?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, though he didn’t let his uncertainty show in his voice. Why hadn’t he completed the ‘Ponyville Pairing’ yet? “I’ve just not got round to finishing off the other half.”

He hated the mission with the ogres so that was tossed. He entertained drawing Princess Twilight in the library but found it to be an half-hearted escape route from the ogre incident. He had spent the last three mornings drawing town hall where it all began… but what reason did he have to come back? He only drew sights to behold once more and he’d seen town hall several times. He never saw the other sights since he first saw them!

“I see. So, what exactly motivates you to draw in such a way?” she asked, waiting on the blue shirt. She shifted her weight to one hoof and looked to where he roughly stood on the other side. “There’s something special about the locations, more so because you’ve added an artistic flair. Then again, stop me if I’m reading too much into this,” she finished with a playful smile.

“It fits perfectly,” he said as he hung the shirt and thought about how to explain what ‘The Wall’ meant to him. How it was a measurement for his accomplishment throughout service.

Rarity grinned at the corrected size. Finally.

Vincent put his back to the cool wall, simply staring at the blue glow dimly breaking through the screen as he spoke sincerely. “One half is the mission, the why I went out. I’ve drawn nearly everything, from magma cobras to adolescent dragons, from all over Equestria except the south. Whatever I felt was worthy, whatever I felt would make other stop and apprec… respect me, wound up on the wall."

He saw the blue light shift on the other side. He continued.

“The scenic drawings? Well, a part of me always wanted to travel, since I was a young lad.” Vistas and horizons, lush plateaus and deserts, enchanted forests and hauntingly beautiful crystal caverns flashed before his mind, warming a smile into existence. “I’ll admit that I have a slight affection for train rides – nothing major—just watching the world pass by romanticism gets me everytime.”

Rarity felt her lip curl up and her tail sweep to the side. ‘So this is what he sounds like whilst being honest.’ She scanned another forest scene. “Quite the world wonderer, aren’t you? I believe you’ll just love my father.”

“Fellow traveller?”

“Indeed, both of my parents. They retired some time ago and used the money daddy earned from selling his gyms.” She giggled, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you bumped into him. Anyhow, what makes you draw these sights? See, they’re not towns but they don’t look like monster lairs. Then again, I’m no monster expert.”

“In short: I’d love to revisit those places one day.” He bumped his head against the wall, malachite eyes closing. To think, Ponyville was the first and only place he ever came back to.

“What’s stopping you?” she asked with genuine intrigue, eyes flicking back to the suited mannequin.

“Work. Duty.” He shrugged, his expression falling to uncertainty without his knowing. “Um, resupplying myself for work takes it time. Sometimes I get requests from the Royal Alchemy Society.” He reassured himself by rubbing his shoulders.

“Do you not make time for yourself?” she pressed with a scowl. She folded her arms beneath her buxom chest and tutted. “As far as I was aware there was more than one knight, in fact, there was entire battalion of them.”

“It’s a company, actually.”

“The difference being…”

“About a hundred or so knights, give or take. There’s never been a battalion.”

She gave a flat look, propping her hands and the book to her hips as she leant towards the screen. “So you are, in fact, not the only one.”

He fired back a glare at the dim blue light, “Out with it, Rarity, I’m feeling exposed in this state.”

She scrunched her muzzle and huffed, stepping back from the screen. “You need to make more time for yourself.” She glanced to the dressed mannequin.

“Noted,” he replied tersely.

She tutted and rolled her eyes as her magic unbuttoned the doublet. “Believe me, burdening yourself too much will lead to a disaster!” She sighed and handed the folded suit over to him, “So what will you draw for Ponyville?”

“Nothing strikes me as worth coming back for,” he admitted with unease and guilt.

Rarity quirked a brow.

“Um, Miss Rarity, I don’t mean-”

“Give it time,” was all she said, silencing him. She sent the suit around, shrugging towards the screen with her horn aglow. “I’m guessing the things you’d return to Canterlot are precious to you; why not give us time and I’m sure you’ll find something special about Ponyville.” Rarity smiled sweetly as she searched for a place to set the shirts aside. “Dare I say, maybe you’ll make more friends whilst here.”

With hesitation he took hold of the finely tailored suit, “More?”

“Well, you’re free to inform my sister that you’re not.” She smirked wryly, tilting her head. “Be warned though, if I find her crying in her room you’ll have to contend with me.”

He huffed in amusement, setting aside the pants. “I’ll concede to having a few friendly acquaintances, one of whom certainly trying her best to change me.” He undid his potion belt, shaking his head, “I am more than content with my current way of life. My work is life-saving, I’ve achieved high status, I’m a self-made, well respected man, what else could I want?”

“Perhaps to live until you’re thirty?” she quibbed, arching a brow. “And I’m only trying to help, dear heart. You focus so much on your own image, what you stand for, but when I, somepony that specialises in changing images for the better offers assistance, you side step the issue.”

He set his jaw, catching his frown in the mirror. The shirt… actually looked good. His scowl lessened. “I didn’t realise you were a counsellor alongside an artise, I hope I’m not going to pay extra for that.”

She vented her exasperation through a quiet sigh; it was like talking to a stone wall. Fortunately she was already sneaking in. “Ponies are beginning to accept that you are here to stay. Why not try to show that you’re just like us and not some brute with authority.”

“It’s less that and more that I’m different.” He pulled up the new pants, enjoying the smooth fabric touching his powerful thighs.

“Not anymore,” she pressed with a frown. “The fact that you’re not a pony pales compared to your disposition towards the rest of town. It’s more that you hide behind a mask.”

He scoffed at the notion and refocused on fitting the new belt. He had to admit it was his favourite piece, what with the practicality of the pockets. If he were to attend a formal event without his armour at least he could be both stylish and armed. He then slipped into the arm of the doublet.

“Funny, Miss Fluttershy said the same thing.” He stopped to look to the ceiling in recollection. “Well, she got her point across before mumbling to herself.”

“She means well, we all do.”

“I’m fine as I am, perfectly content.”

“Does that mean you’re happy?”

Silence. He sneered and fastened the viridian tie. What in Equestria was this about? He came here for a coat and yet he here was trying on a new suit. She was a cunning mare if because he played along. He expected it after seeing the suit but this talk was getting rather personal. Was being content not a form of happiness? He didn’t wallow in self-pity nor slip into depression. Sure, he would love for his parents to get off his back, and even in recent time Blueblood has been pestering for Vincent to ‘expand his circles’ more. Hypocrite. Still, Fluttershy’s words haunted him.

He looked to the mask that hung on the racking, it’s hallow eyes staring back. One Windsor knot (as his father called it) later and he was already buttoning the fashionable doublet up.

“Vincent?” Rarity took a tentative step towards the opening of the little enclove, ears flat and lip chewed. “I apologise if I over stepped my bounds.” Perhaps she had gone overboard with this. ‘Oh dear, darn it all, Rarity!’ She mentally scolded herself.

Startled by Rarity his mind fell blank. He needed something to talk about. The suit! He faced the mirror.

“I’m fine! The suit’s…”

His words died in his mouth, for there was no mistaking the human form looking back in absolute wide-eye terror. He was dapper in fashion but his demeanour meek, like a timid mouse. Ser Vincent recognised it and, out of curiosity, stood straight and tall, proud and refusing to be seen as less. And it shocked him.

It was certainly something he’d thought he’s never see: Ser Vincent, dressed to impress. His timber hair was a mess but the air of respect was unmistakable. His malachite eyes glistened above the soft edged nose, thin lips and rounded chin. The jawline was harsher and he was with bronzing stubble. The doublet hugged his built figure, the colours befitting the palace he had lived in, and the belt was a welcomed flair. He looked half as confident his father did every day.

Henry Costello was also a self-made man in Equestria. A charmer, a silver tongued ‘devil’, excellent cook – a good man gone a bit mad but the best dad Vincent could ask for. The knight was the polar opposite, lacking the confidence but having adapted to the world. Though, he supposed he got his drive, his sense of ambition, and unstoppable determination from his father. Certainly his morals, at least.

But… to see himself with but a shred of confidence his father held daily, to seem almost as normal shook Vincent to the core. He… he needed the mask and coat, it gave him the common decency of others beyond Canterlot. But he had a reputation now, as a good knight, in parts of Equestria. ‘As well as here in Ponyville.’

That made him step back from the mirror, jade eyes unsure of what he was seeing. His mind was torn; he was fine with just the mask and hood, but what if didn’t need them? What if him hiding was him being self-deluded?! What if, after all these years, he had been making a complete, UTTER FOOL of himself, humiliating himself to his peers?

He knocked the screen and snapped like a python with a bear-trapped-maw, his breath ragged.

“Vincent, are you okay?”

“I-I believe so.” His soft baritone voice was beginning to leak his emotions.

“Are you having trouble with the suit?” she asked, studying the fingers that gripped the edge. Very fragile looking things, so thin too.

He released the screen and put a hand to his forehead, “It’s not for m—“ Having his fingers touch his brow outside his room startled him. “I don’t think the doublet's for me, but the rest are wonderful, especially the belt.” He sighed and undressed.

“That’s fine.” Rarity nodded in thought. It was designed for the client, Ser Vincent, so if he did not desire it then she could concede. “I’ll keep it on hold before designing another ensemble, in case you change your mind.”

Moments later, he was back in his amour and sporting the revitalised coat, alongside his new belt. His alchemy belt was slung over his shoulder. With his hood up he stared into the mask in his gloved hands. He pondered over its true necessity to his life, what it gave and took. He scowled.

“Rarity,” he said called with conviction from behind the screen.

She was packing everything but the doublet into separate bags on the other side of the room. She looked back. “Yes, darling?”

“Since we last spoke I’ve been thinking and concluded that I need a new image.” He conceded a nod and pocketed his mask as far as he could into his coat, half of it spilling out. “I’d like for this town to be at ease with my presence.” He stepped out of the enclosure.

Rarity ceased packing with her magic, her smile faltering at the absence of his mask. Sapphire met emerald and she smiled.

“If that means I must temporally part with the mask then so be it.” He studied her features, disconcerted by lack of disgust or horror in that genuine smile. After her flash of mild surprise it was the last thing he expected.

“Well good evening, Ser Vincent,” she began whilst curtsying in her cocktail dress, “How wonderful to see you again.” Her grin turned playful at his disbelieving smirk. “Good choice, dear.”

His confidence faltered and he massaged the back of his hood. “Don’t expect a grand announcement, Rarity. I’m only doing this in small instances, like here or the library.”

She nodded with an amused snort, “Small steps, Vincent, small steps.” A sweet smile graced her as she approached. “I’m honoured that you trust me.”

He rolled his eyes, “Any other course of action is redundant given that you’ve already seen me.”

She tittered, like a wind chime caught in a summer breeze. “I’m glad you finally realised it.”

The door burst open and in strolled Sweetie Belle, looking tired.

“Hey, Rarity.” It was then that she noticed Ser Vincent without his mask and instantly she beamed up to him. “Hi, Ser Vincent! Here to pick up your coat?”

Vincent blinked at the unfazed child. “Yes, and I’ll be making a purchase too.”

“See told you, you aren’t scary without the mask.” Sweetie Belle said, wiping her hooves on the mat. She perked up, ears standing tall and tail swishing excitedly, “We can have that tea party!”

“Um, well, you see, Miss Belle…” Vincent struggled, looking to Rarity for support.

She had her arms folded under her bust and a snowy hand reaching up to cradle her cheek, an amused expression daring him to decline the offer silently.

“Please!” Sweetie Belle begged as she approached, voice innocently sweet.

He winced and scrunched his face. “I suppose a small drink will do. I’ve even brought the wind-light you left behind.” He winced at her cheer, smiling despite himself when she scampered off upstairs. When Rarity laid a hand on his shoulder he tensed, snapping his focus to her.

“Wind-light?” she inquired.

He calmed himself. “A gemstone that can emit light when moving through the air, something novel but incredibly useful.” He shook his head at her smile. “Can’t say I’ve ever been to a tea party as a guest.”

“Well, perhaps we can go back to discussing plans for the weekend,” Rarity offered as she sauntered passed. He let her soft touch linger, her lilac perfume heavily present without the mask. She turned towards the door. “I’ll close up for the moment. It would be shame for anypony to disturb the knight attending the tea party.”

Ser Vincent groaned, rubbing his eyes as Rarity chuckled warmly into a hand.

The Weekend

Ser Vincent walked the all too familiar refined halls of the Canterlot Opera House, his destination the royalty booth. It was an invitation from his best friend, Prince Blueblood that brought him here. He was in the usual attire: mask, coat, short brown mop-tail, hydra-esque armour etc. Even if it wasn’t guard duty as usual, he wasn’t just going drop this façade at the snap of his human fingers. Besides, he’d end up dropping the small bakery box he was carrying.

He loved this place because ponies were truly used to his presence. He was noticed, true, but seen as a V.I.P passing by. His reputation made him worthy here, made him accepted, and these ponies stopped finding him too strange long ago. He walked these walls without being second glanced.

The royal theatre booth was suited for the royal family and friends, so privacy of up to ten or so in the best seats in the house. Typically reserved for just royalty, but tonight a few influential faces joined this evening. Habitually, Ser Vincent studied the booth. Two guards at either corner of the room, waiting staff, guests mostly philanthropists and charitable sorts; good company that the prince favoured.

He spied the gold locks of his friend at the front by the balcony and made his way over. Down the steadily, declining steps and paste ponies that made much effort to get out of his way. He didn’t rush them once nor did he expect this sort of treatment.

“… Some crystal rum please, Silver, whatever was recently imported if you’d be so kind,” Blueblood said to a young waitress. Her curtsy was stiff, as were her mannerisms, as if unsure how to respond.

‘Must be new,’ Vincent thought as he entered the row.

Blueblood caught him out the corner of his eye, turning to offer a warmed smile that met his blue eyes. “Good evening, Ser Vincent! It has been far too long!” He stood and shook hands with the knight, Ser Vincent nodding along.

“Far too long, Your Grace.” Vincent felt his cheek shift as his lip curled – it was a strange sensation having a delayed awareness to your own smile. He released the shake as others settled down, a few niches noting their conversation.

Blueblood snorted. “I half expected the princess’ informality to have tainted you by now. How long since our last outing? Three months?” He tutted. “Honestly, I need more time for myself.”

Ser Vincent didn’t miss the smirk and offered a tilt of the head. “Yes, between your villa visits and blimp parties, moments of self-indulgence are usually fleeting if I recall my time well.”

Blueblood shook his head in amusement, brushing down his whiter-than-white tuxedo. A hallow jab; both knew the prince ensured the kingdom’s economy ran and money flowed where it was needed: charities, scholarships for the under—privileged, foreign aid, etc. Both knew the knight ensured the lives of the kingdom were safe. If anything, neither dared miss these moments of relaxation.

“Come, take a seat with me,” His Majesty said with a smile as he took a seat. “You’re old acquaintance Serenity shall be performing.” A teasing flare sparked in those cold eyes but Vincent ignored it as he took a seat. “Anyhow, how does guarding the…”

Blueblood mulled over the words like a strange wine. “… Untested Princess Twilight compare? I’ll admit that I’m curious given recent changes.” After knowing the knight since he first donned the (personally, ridiculous) outfit, he’d instantly notice the filigree embroidery on his shoulder and the new belt. “Maybe she has a silver tongue that will be valuable to the crown?” He then gestured to the bakery box. “What’s this?” he asked before taking a small sniff, “It’s sweet.”

“Cake,” Ser Vincent chirped, watching the crowd below settle, enjoying the flat-eared grimace of his friend. “I thought I’d share a slice or six.” He chuckled as the waitress returned with an emerald drink.

“How cruel,” Blueblood sniped before wetting his lips with the drink.

“Full house. My, she’s certainly done well for herself after all these years” Ser Vincent commented idly. ‘The Rose House has done wonder for you.’ He felt himself smile again.

“Yes,” Blueblood said after a moment of appreciating the rum’s flavour. He faced the human, smiling fondly. “It’s amazing what a change of scenery can inspire or begin to change.” He locked with Vincent when he turned his head, for a fleeting moment, before he tapped the bakery box. “So, is it a present? Your father misses you, you know.”

“Actually, it’s something I’d like you to try.” Vincent lifted the lid. Three small muffins stood vigilantly, cream filled and toffee stuffed, with almonds and slices of banana adding a rich, sweet aroma. “They’re called banoffins, something new and I thought I’d share.”

“Spoils of a new land, eh, Ser Knight?” Blueblood chucked, gesturing if he could take one. With a received blessing he held it in his magic, suspending a white napkin beneath it in a snowy glow. He took a bite and felt the creamy flavour felt. “By the Fates, good find.”

Meanwhile, Ser Vincent slowly closed the lid, staring intently towards merrily chewing prince. “Actually bought them at a store, freshly cooked this morning. Had mine on the way here.”

“It’s delicious!”

“I’ll be sure to tell the Element of Joy of your compliments, Your Highness.” Ser Vincent leant back as the prince abruptly slowed his chewing. “And, Miss Applejack.” That stopped him dead.

Blueblood dabbed his lips, quirking a refined brow. “She can cook something more than carnival fritters?” his inquiry was met with a disbelieving huff. Prince Blueblood beckoned the waitress over again before shrugging to the knight. “Well, this is a surprise.”

“Town’s full of them,” Ser Vincent deadpanned, eyeing the waitress. Silver mane slightly messy, bronze fur un-groomed, scarlet waistcoat unbuttoned, and her cutie-mark was of a comedy and tragedy mask duo divided by a quill. He was distracted by the slightly dishevelled state of the mare, in turn the unprofessional swatting of her tail against his knees.

‘Dear me, she’s absolutely terrified.’

The Prince asked for a tray to be brought over so that he may set aside the muffin until the appropriate break in the opera for refreshments. It also brought forward an interesting thought for the knight. Before the waitress could leave, Ser Vincent spoke up.

“Pardon me-“

“Aaah!” The speed in which she shirked way, her scream shrill, was almost impressive Vincent thought. At least, after he got over staring blankly up to the panicked mare. He was certain that deadpan didn’t cut the look on his face.

“Never mind.” Well there was that thought shot down. Silver quickly scampered off, and scampered was the correct word as she lacked any grace associated with grand tier waiting staff. She could only offer an embarrassed grin as she fled towards the serving area.

Prince Blueblood was less than impressed. “What atrocious behaviour,” he remarked indignantly, looking to the knight. “I wonder what that was about.”

“Nerves. I’m hoping it’s because she’s new.” Ser Vincent shook his head. "Remember Jitter Bug?"

“What did you want?” Blueblood pressed.

“It’s nothing,” Ser Vincent replied with a shrug.

“Come now, if it’s about you then I’ll just kindly ask for a replacement. Have her wait on the other ponies here.

“It’s not that, it’s just…” Ser Vincent watched the grand stage curtains flutter with life as he rubbed the back of his hood. “It was a silly notion to begin with.”

“Out with it.” Blueblood said with irked brow. Typical Vincent, clamming up after such a response. He offered a genuine warm smile, more amused than anything else as he sampled another sip of the rum from the Crystal Empire. The emerald liquid’s burn was light, the flavour divine.

“I was merely hoping for a taste of the rum you’re trying.” Ser Vincent’s remark almost made the prince choke on his drink, his eyes bulging. Vincent shrugged and settled comfortably into the lush chair. The acoustics would be superb. “Maybe a glass of something from the deteriancia collection this evening; I’m feeling as if I’ve been missing out on certain things.”

“As in you’d take your mask off in here?!” Blueblood withheld the wince but his ears fell when he realised he’d drawn the attention of others. It was the last thing he ever expected of his best friend to just… casually share a drink with him. He studied the brief mannerisms of Vincent finding him shrinking into his seat as easily as a turtle hides in its shell.

There were whispers floating about. The Nopony was going to unmask himself? The Ser Vincent was to remove his mask? Why? To enjoy the opera? Was something wrong? Not one curious aristocrat received an answer other than a withering blue stare from the prince that swept the box room like an icy gale. The topic died, its last breaths out of earshot.

The lights dimmed as the waitress returned Blueblood making a split second decision.

“Quick! Another of this with ice!” he said, hovering the rum before her then setting it on the tray as she left. This was… ‘Marvellous!’ A simple drink, so mundane, so dull, and yet the prince fought to hide his smile. Vincent was finally—

“You know what, maybe next time,” Ser Vincent said coolly. He offered an upturned palm of an opinion, “Perhaps not so early into the showing.” He then quickly flitted it away with a shake of said hand, “Bah, never mind.” It was rather foolish of him to even begin thinking about such a thing.

Blueblood’s features fell quicker than the monocle of a bankrupt banker. He wanted to continue, but alas, the show began. He simply sighed with a furred hand to his temple. ‘Ignoramus,’ he scolded himself. When the waitress returned with the second drink he took a long—just a tad longer than what was acceptable—sip of his rum.

The symphony orchestra stirred as the curtain parted, revealing a towering city scene, sombre notes played. Burnt Affection was said to a be a moving tale, or so Ser Vincent had heard, and tragedies were his addiction. Alas, as the show went on, the main star stole it.

Serenity, a gorgeous angel of a pegasus, currently portraying the heartache of a rejected lover quite well. Her voice melodious and morose, her songs captivating like morning bird song. However, despite this Vincent had his attention stolen by the prince.

“Things must be different under Princess Twilight if you’re suddenly like this,” he said with faint smile. Neither looked away from the performance and kept their voices low, though at times like these, Vincent had to strain harder to hear than the prince that could swivel his ear.

“She makes me take breaks and we’ve agreed to boundaries,” Vincent replied warmly.

Blueblood sharply took in air. “I can’t begin to imagine how horrific that must be for you.”

Vincent chuckled. “It gets worse, they want to be friends with me.”

“Is it really so discouraging?” Blueblood whispered, staring intently. He mainly held his cup of delicious rum, what with it being a faux pa to use magic to light up the place during an opera. Odd how there was little about quietly conversing.

“I… don’t know, but I can’t tell if I’ll enjoy it.” Ser Vincent rested his hooded head in a gloved hand, closing his eyes and just listening to the lamenting monologue of a character. He was too distracted by his own thoughts to actual hear what was being said or sung however. “They’re very intrusive folk these southerners, but, if they see a problem they fix it. Lots of characters and… Ponyville does has its charms.”

He opened his eyes and saw the many passing faces of the small village he was stationed in. A crowd of the populace walking by, some glancing, most staring, but soon enough they just walked past him. He saw Zest and others that were stand offish no longer, not through their choosing. He saw the curious foals still scared to approach but getting closer each day. Then he saw the ex-Elements of Harmony, kindly greeting him in passing.

“I think the problem is that with so few towns in the south connected to the rest of Equestria, not many know about me. Nothing new, but it’s the first time starting from scratch with them knowing about me being, well, human.” He looked to his gloved hands, flexing them. “I’d much rather keep them as friendly acquaintances.” Vincent turned away to face His Majesty, Prince Blueblood.

“I’m starting to wonder if this entire façade was a good idea or not. It works, you cannot convince me otherwise… but…” He trailed off, his masked stare absentmindedly lowering. “Now I feel as if it’s simply foolish to continue as I am whilst I stay in Ponyville.” He locked eyes again with Blueblood, who was beginning to crack a ghost of a smile.

“What do you think, Your Grace?”

Blueblood seized the moment to lean, with a friendly smile and a firm hand resting on Vincent’s forearm. “Do you value my opinion… this time,” he asked with a quirked regal brow.

“I’ve known you since I was nine so I trust your judgement.”

“And we’re confidents.” Blueblood simply smiled kindly, his hand squeezing clothed and armoured arm of Vincent. He paused for a moment, just enough for a heartbeat or breath, before deadpanning the knight. “You’re one of the most successful idiots to ever build himself up out of rubble, a blind nincompoop that has saved me from all manner of beasts, an intelligent creature of renown fame and heroics that has a fatal, dangerous flaw; you’re a proud knight, Ser Vincent, rightly so… but the fact that you’ve just realised that there’s too much madness in your method is just so…”

The Prince struggled the find the words in the face of blank mask, that same stoic stare he knew was hiding a slightly startled friend, the same blank face he’d seen for five years due to insecurities, and all he could do was sigh and rub the bridge of his snout. Blueblood then offered an amused huff and soft smile. “So, yes, I think what works when it works is fine but perhaps you should fix what’s broke now, hmm?”

Vincent waited before responding. “Milord’s been holding back on me I see.” He slowly slid back deeper into his seat. It was too plush now that he thought about it. “Your honesty is appreciated, Your Majesty.”

“It’s what best friends are for, my good man.” Blueblood took another sip. “That and sharing drinks together at operas and galas from time to time.” For the most part, Prince Blueblood felt he could relax and finally get to enjoy the opera now that the fuss was out of the way. But, knowing that his friend nearly had a drink with him, something that shouldn’t be as impressive as it sounds, was wearing away at his comfort.

“Shall we try again?” whispered Blueblood, holding the rum glass before the snout of Vincent’s mask.

Vincent, for a moment pondered over the choice. “Maybe another day, Blue, maybe another day,” he said before pushing the offer away.

Author's Notes:

Apologies for the late update, I unfortunately caught a bug days after returning from Mexico. Nothing serious or so I'm told and fortunately it gave me time to plan my next story in the series.

Thank you for your patience and please remember to like if you favourite and please leave a comment. Toodle-pip!