Author's Notes:

Behold! The sequel of Cloth Hearted, Armoured Skin. making it the sixth installment of the Changing States of Knight series! That's amazing! Even with this one having a long delay in being submitted the support has been simply mesmerising!

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.

I'd appreciate it that if you liked you also favourited and vice versa. It would bring further joy to see comments and critiques, to further my writing. I do hope you enjoy this story as you have enjoyed my past entries. If you are new and put off by this being the sixth installment, fret not, for these stories are relatively short.

Have a blast either way!

Ser Vincent’s body was pumped with medical anaesthetic and his magical adrenaline. It was strange, always was, to only vaguely remember the indescribable feeling. He could only ever experience it, and even then, there was differences each time. He supposed an outer body experience was close enough; he watched the ceiling tiles of the hospital zoom by as doctors and nurses pushed his rattling… trolley… bed? What was it called? He’d ask, as wide awake as he was, but in this dreamy state words thundered, echoed, went unheard, were warbled, or just never set in.

It was like viewing somepony else’s lucid dream. The detachment was immense. He neither cared for the passing phrases about immense blood loss or how another transfusion drip was needed. Did he ever get those transferred to Ponyville?

He sat up, much to the protests of the nurses and doctors. Mute as they were, the earthpony stallion in garb and blooded gloves pressed down on the knight’s chest. Ser Vincent didn’t feel it, and thanks to the magic coursing through his body he didn’t budge. Then again most had trouble making him budge. With foggy green eyes, and a habitual tilt of the head, he scanned his form.

He had been removed from his armour it seemed. Branches of gold coursed beneath his heavily bruised chest, his hip and groin exposed. The flesh around his thigh and hip looked tenderised, almost mangled as blood slowly oozed out a small wound. It shimmered unnaturally, undoubtedly thanks to his magic.

‘Wish I did have regenerative abilities. Would make my job easier.’

A nurse tried to wave for his attention but he only spared her a vapid, tilted stare before looking back to his wound. There were traces of stone around the wound, like dusty grey powder.

A fist slammed down on his abdomen, three fingers uncoiling slightly to work the syringe evidently embedded into him. Ser Vincent didn’t have a complete medical understanding of his own body – Princess Celestia had a team of doctors for him and his parents, who had learnt what they could through test and scans and… His thoughts were trailing. He didn’t think he should be injected through his muscular gut.

It didn’t seem to have any immediate effect. He felt his heart was racing, his body working against the dangers it was suffering from and yet his mind was asleep. To be half-awake, alert, yet numb… it was an experience he could never properly articulate and even his best similes were inaccurate.

A face he recognised pushed through: Blue Blood. That made him focus more. Words and labels sprung forth, shooting lines to tether themselves to features. Perked ears, half-filed horn, irate sneer, lightly-watered blue eyes, and an angry finger pointed at him.

‘I must have been injured at an inconvenient time for Blue. I should apologise.’

So Vincent did. Or at least he made the correct motions of doing so. He moved his mouth, used his vocal cords, and felt sincere. He assumed it showed on his face too. Not that he would know, after all; without his mask he was only just becoming aware of his facial expressions. Now he couldn’t feel his face due to drugs.

Blue Blood stared back, silent as he walked briskly. His cold eyes battled with rage and worry, a rarely seen sight publicly. Vincent noted how his white tuxedo was also crimson stained. He then noticed the charging horn.

“Sorry?! I’ll give you something to be sorry about!”

He had to give credit to Prince Blue Blood for being heard over the cocktail of unnatural magic and drugs flowing inside Vincent’s head. An ivory cone of mana surged around his horn, his mane shimmering like the finest honey the prince had on his toast every morning.

Prince Blue Blood then blasted his best friend in the face for his own good.

Ser Vincent stood in the dry dusty outskirts of the Macintosh Hills, North-side and with the desert sun scorching the back of his sandy coat. He’d changed from his typical forest coat for one that suited the surroundings. He still wore his hydra-esque body armour and it rattled after being struck by a stallion.

The thug in question was part of a gang tormenting Appleloosa, disrupting the bridges being built between buffalo tribe and pony settlers. He stood amongst his unconscious brethren cradling his fist as he backed off towards a large cave.

Ser Vincent took slow, methodical steps as his heart raced and magic blazed from the depths of the eyes from the mask. He flexed his gloved hands as a wolf-spider might ready its legs.

“Yer won’t get a lick from me on what’s going on ‘ere!” the stallion spat, “Nopony’s getting the rest of the boys.”

“So we’re in agreement that I’ll get to them shortly?” the knight said with a tilted head.

“What?!” the stallion barked back as he regained composure.

“Ah, pardon my ignorance. After years building a reputation in the North, West, and East, I forget how little the South knows of me.” Vincent prattled on, intentionally prolonging the moment he'd grip the stallion. It was a simple tactic for establishing how little a chance the thug had. Vincent did have to start making a name for himself in these parts after all. He'd go to jail with a story to tell.

The stallion launched himself at the knight with a wild, sloppy hook. He made it single step before Vincent's coat flared.

It was a like a flick, a swift uncoiling of muscle and power – there were python strikes that were slower. Both stopped as Vincnent's gloved hand fell back to his side. The thug froze. The air from his lungs being expelled through a wheeze and a jittery three-digited hand rest on his gut.

The knight prowled around his back as the stallion seemingly struggled for breath. With cruel ease he placed a boot gently upon the back of the stallion leg, buckling him and bringing down. Vincent wanted to scare not traumatise the stallion. He placed one hand on his shoulder before delivering a blow to his back with the other.

Immediately the thug gasped for air as Vincent got to worked fishing out something to bind the stallions wrists together, a thick spiel of diamond thread he used for patchwork jobs on his own coats. Well, before he could pay Rarity to do so. Although his blue goo capsules could be used for subjugation, the knight preferred to use them during combat.

“My name,” he growled into the thugs ear, “Is Ser Vincent. Be sure to tell your friends.”

And then, right before him, his world turned to ash and sand. Vincent stepped back, perplexed at how his environment was disintegrating, his mask crumbling from his face and dust slipping between his fingers. His world darkened as he shed his coat, literally, leaving him in naught but his pants. A blinding light erupted between the cracks of reality and he raised his exposed human hand to shield his eyes.

The light faded and he lowered his arms, his perplexed look falling to an irate glare at his surroundings. He didn't know where he was, he was half-naked, standing upon a glassy surface with mist floating around his ankles. He was beneath a night sky, many auras shifting and merging high above, streaks of green spilling into pools of phantom pink.

“Ah, greetings Ser Knight!”

He turned around to find the princess of the night, the alicorn of the moon, her Royal Highness, Princess Luna. She formed out of a shadowy ether, between constellations that seemed to follow her mane, as if they were threading into her very hair. Her long dress was a pearlescent shade of blue, exposing her shoulders and enough of her thigh for her cutie mark to be on display. A crescent moon against an inkblot sky.

Everything about her exhumed the grace of her role as the fabled dream guardian. Her small smile induced the wonder one had when seeing a friend grinning in their sleep. She wore few remnants of an armour, wrist bracers marked by a lunar symbol, a darker indigo breast piece clamped over her dress, and her hooves were gilded by glassy shoes that almost dared not disturb even the lightest of sleepers.

“Princess Luna?” He immediately fell to his knee, hand on heart.

She raised a brow a smirked. “Oh, 'tis now that you refer me by the title?” She stepped across the night-time floor, her mane and tail caught in a light breeze he couldn't feel. “Far different from our first encounter.”

He thought back to then when he first encountered her. Though perhaps, ambushed was a better term. Then the ethereal world of constellations and mist swirled and danced. He raised his head to see walls close in, a ceiling form and various appliances sprout forth said walls. It was a side-kitchen to the main one, where meals were separately cooked for the royals. With every cooker, spice rack, pantry and pan to form, Ser Vincent pieced together what was happening.

“Is this...” He trailed off upon spying another version of himself stalking his way, past a door with 'Tea Sets' engraved upon it. Vincent looked back to the princess. She regarded the scene with as much curiosity as he would upon looking back.

“I always did ponder how you found us... pardon, me.” She joined him behind the second Vincent. Lines and annotations sprouted out from various out-of-place stains and unusual sights. 'Dirty hooves leading from opened window' had a line leading to a trail of hooves that appeared from a nearby, closed window. 'Break in?' soon joined the note.

“In my defence I wasn't in the mood for being spotted by a single soul,” Luna told him as they followed the dressed Vincent. This was years ago, when Ser Vincent entertained the notion not buttoning up his long coat at all. He looked positively ridiculous.

'Opened bread bin', 'nibbled iced-bun', 'breads and cheeses upon platter', 'silver platter'. Lines and words lined the counter, establishing the scene of somepony making a late night snack.

“I...remember...” Ser Vincent winced and rubbed his exposed brow, recoiling at the contact. He looked to his hand, all five digits wriggling until tough cloth enveloped them. Then, as if embracing him for a hug, his desert sand coat covered him, fitting snugly over a scaly chest piece. His hood flew over but his mask, to his surprise, appeared in his other hand, hanging by the straps.

“Just remember the scene before you, Ser Vincent, nothing more for now. Trust me.”

He looked back up to the scene, finding the veridian knight paused as he reached for a bottle of wine.

“I recall that you had terrible taste in wine,” Vincent quipped, earning an equine huff of dismissal. The scene of past Vincent played out and another annotation appeared, stemming from the bottle in his hand. 'Hartlemane pommel, what blasphemous swine resorts to this? Why do we stock this?'

“Well, excuse me for being a few centuries out of touch.” Luna strode to the other side of the room, beside the corner where past Vincent was heading for.

“How did you find it?” Ser Vincent asked, following the tracks of his past self, who had picked up a small bag of opened flower, that had been left on the side.

“Tis horrendous but...” she trailed off, waiting for Vincent to look to her from beneath. With a grin she continued with, “I find it to be a guilty pleasure.” She chuckled at his grimace, rich like the finer wines that were stored in the cellar.

“Heathen,” Vincent muttered. He accompanied his memory self as he followed subtle clues, powdered hoof steps, a squeak, and finally, a clatter of a fallen broom in the corner. Beside Princess Luna.

Vincent almost wondered if he had stopped the scene once more, but recalled that he had decided to pause for dramatic effect. His past self then rounded the corner seemingly shaking off a silly thought.

“I hope it wasn't too difficult to get out.” Ser Vincent asked Princess Luna, past Vincent discretely pinching some flour in his gloves.

Princess Luna's expression grew mockingly harsh, night-blue eyes still looking back to him kindly, “It wasn't; getting Princess Celestia to stop laughing took longer.”

Past Vincent then spun around, casting a thick arc of white powder to cover the corner. Most struck the wall. A portion, however, struck something else.

Through spluttering and chiming magic a pale blue alicorn appeared forth in the corner. With a frame similar to Fluttershy's, the alicorn came only to chest high, as opposed to her current form that stood shoulder to shoulder with Vincent in the present day. She was mousey in appearance, her dress torn at the fringes and a crown that was lopsided as she wiped away the streak of flour.

“I'm rather interested in what your thought process was at this point,” Luna remarked, watching her old self charge up her horn and glare death up to the taller knight.

“Princess, please, what's going on?” Vincent's question stopped time once more as he simply gave up remembering what happened. The world began to warp and walls began to melt like crumbling sand. The annotations that were before him simply faded into mist.

“Please, Ser Vincent, continue, it will greater help my understanding of you in relation to your mind and dreams.” She joined his side as the wall behind her fell apart, revealing the expansive nothingness between them and a distant starry sky, similar to when she first arrived. “Your mind's been rather addled by anaesthesia, your own magic, and the magic Prince Blue Blood had blasted you with; being how you're not naturally supposed to handle magic, or so I hear, there have been complications.

“Wait, what?” He winced again, gritting his teeth as a piercing ringing erupted from his head. Princess Luna laid a soft, furred hand, cool like a night-time pillow, against the side of his face. The ringing stopped. “A hospital... a train, a tatzlwurm.” Words sprouted around him, more annotations tying themselves to him and orbiting madly, scrambled jargon buzzing angrily.

Luna's pointed horn glowed and her powers silenced and dispersed the words. “I cannot enter your parents dreams, for they were not of this world, were they? That trait has partially passed onto you; you're, let's say, camouflaged amongst the minds of the dreamscape. I wonder. Humans don't have magic, do they?”

“No, they're not supposed to, or not naturally,” he answered as she lowered her hand.

Her expression became stern, as one tends to when deeply explaining their craft. “And because of this, magic has hidden you from my sight for so long. I have been unable to guard you from night terrors or assist you as I may other soldiers.” She titled her head and stared into his malachite eyes. “For some time, your conscious and sub-conscious minds were out of sync and your brain had paid the price for it.”

“I beg your pardon?” Ser Vincent replied calmly, but horror was clearly evident on his face even beneath he hood.

“Simply put, for the past three days, the magic in your body had made it difficult to wake you. Physically you were fine, psychologically your subconscious and conscious were out of sync, drawing forth random memories of the week you were awake at alternating times.” She gave an assuring smile as she stood by his side. “Prince Blue Blood asked for my assistance and I've spent some time bringing you up to speed.”

She nodded back to the scene before them, where Little Luna was about to blast past Vincent.

“Little Luna?” the dream princess remarked with amusement, looking to an annotation that had spawned from the tip of her past's glowing horn. “As a side note, it seems some of your descriptions and mental notes appear in your memories, something I have never seen in other species.” She raised a royal hand and waved it toward the scene, “Now please, lets end this. Try to remember what happened next. It'll be interesting to see your thought process with your own narration.”

Ser Vincent, in his desert coat and with mask still in hand, titled his head before continuing. “How did you get in here then? How did you find me?”

Princess Luna levelled a mischievous glance his way. “Though I normally scour the dreamscape for restless minds, meditating in a hospital bed is a faster, if rather intimate method.” She looked back to the scene, “Difficult to perform for all my subject in one night, and normally results in the subject waking up and asking ludicrous things. Such as 'what are you doing in my home?' I find the comatosed are much more complacent.”

“Insolent fool!” Little Luna barked as her horn grew brighter, “How dare thou assault Our face with the white powder!”

Past Vincent swiftly nipped her horn as if he was nipping the flame of a candle, stunning her with the gall of the act. “Why are you sneaking around?” he asked coolly.

“Worm! You assault us with powder then lay hand upon the royal horn?!” Little Luna began a small tirade, as the present Ser Vincent remembered more and more of the past. The he focused more on the conversation.

“Indeed I did.”

“Who art thou, he who dares commit such crimes and hides behind a mask?”

“Ser Vincent, of the Solaris Knights.”

“Charlatan! Fraud! What sorry state would the knights have to be to accept such scoundrels?”

“A state wherein a pony responds to suspected break-ins reported by castle staff because alicorns keep sneaking around.” Ser Vincent opened his eyes and glanced to Luna before looking back his past self. “Is that a species trait because the princess does it too,” he and his former self both said in unison. The older Luna laughed; Little Luna scowled.

“Nay, we--” Little Luna's stomach gurgled and a blush fiercely broke out. She appeared smaller, pale blue tail tucking in, ears folding flat against her mane, her hands covering her stomach and head sinking. “Traitorous guts,” she hissed.

She seemed so-

“Humiliated? I'm so sorry?”

Ser Vincent looked to his side, finding Princess Luna staring back at him with a sad smile.

“Strange. I always thought you thought little of me by this point. Seems I was wrong.” She nodded back to the scene and Vincent followed her gaze. More words tied to Little Luna. 'Lost and confused'. 'Relying upon Celestia'. 'Doesn't know how to respond'. 'Scared'. 'Hungry'. 'She thinks I'm a threat'. 'Pretty and not a threat'.

“Thank you,” Luna purred. Vincent spared her a glance and she tidied up her ghostly night mane, correcting her tiara. She did so with her eyes closed so he looked back to the memory before him.

“I recall staff were supposed to be waiting on you hand and hoof,” past Vincent said, moving towards a tall fridge. The phrase 'share a slice' sprouted from its silver door. “Quite the introvert these past months.”

“Don't change the subject!” Little Luna yelled, curling her hands into fists by her side. She pointed her primary finger at him in an accusatory manner. “And wherein did We state that you could refer to me as if I was in a lower standing?”

Past Vincent rested a gloved hand on the handle before shooting her a titled stare. “Pardon?”

“No, you shall not be. When addressing Us, thine tongue will obey etiquette of what is to be expected of a knight – if you are such one, that is-- and will refer to us by our title. Yet, you dare prattle on for as long as you have without seeing me in the same eye as you do Princess Celestia.”

“I'm sorry, you've lost me,” Past Vincent answered, pulling open the fridge and becoming bathed in a white light.

“I am Princess Luna and you will treat me as such,” Little Luna stated, her horn glowing and summoning various utensils to her defense. She poised them as if they were hunting spears and Vincent, largely due to the emotionless blank mask, studied them indifferently before looking back to the fridge. “Thou shall cease your attempts to find more powders to smear my pelt with.”

The Luna beside current day Vincent, where they both stood off to the side watching, winced and offered a sheepish smile to the knight. “I am terribly sorry for this.”

Vincent simply returned an amused huff and a raised brow. “It's fine, I'm just wondering, why is half the fridge contents so blurry? I am concentrating.”

Luna looked towards past Vincent as he raided the fridge, finding his gloved hands pushed aside fuzzy objects. There was a small number of cakes and fine treats that were distinct, like the eclairs, but a vast majority were hazy things taking up space.

“In times like these, one fails note the unimportant details. And so, even though you recall moving things around, you cannot recall precisely what you moved out the way, save for one or two things,” she explained, eyeing Little Luna as she levitated a whisk.

“Cur, I am in no mood for such disrespect! I've had my fill of sorrow for so long I am in no need of this! Have at thee!”

She bopped past Vincent with the whisk.

“I want to tread these halls without answering to every maid too scared to approach.”

Thunk! Past Vincent barely flinched from the attack, pulling out a small card he used to save his leftovers in the fridge to finish later and placing it on the side. Little Luna didn't stop her angry onslaught, though at this point, because past Vincent couldn't see Little Luna, present day Vincent could see her either despite where he stood.

“I desire for the shadows of my past to not haunt my every step!”

Thunk!

“I yearn for the day where my sin can be forgotten by the public!”

Thunk.

“I wish not to feel shame for the night, and to cower during the day!”

Thunk...

“I wish...”

Ser Vincent stopped concentrating, wincing and turning back to present day Luna, the one that stood taller and with an understanding smile. Though those deep cerulean eyes of her were tinge with a little sadness she still rested a hand on his shoulder and nodded. “It's fine, Ser Knight. It was an emotional period for me.”

Ser Vincent remembered. He remembered closing the fridge door. He remembered freezing at the sight before him. He felt his gut knot and a shame wash over him as he stared back at the teary eyed mare.

He didn't need to look. Her magical grasp was slipping, numerous pans and loaves falling save the whisk. Past Princess Luna looked broken and defeated, a hot tear falling from her eye as her sombre gaze fell to the floor. Through a choked sob she spoke and it broke his heart, one that he'd convinced most was made of stone at the time.

“I wish I'd never returned,” she managed, slipping to the floor and bringing her knees to her chest.

“Princess Luna,” present Ser Vincent said to the mare by his side, “Are we nearly done here?”

“You're ashamed of this?” she asked with genuine surprise. “Why?”

“Not what's going to happen, just this part. When we start talking I guess I'll be fine.”

More annotations filled the air, none too flattering for the weeping mare he remembered. 'Broken', 'scared', 'guilt-ridden'. Past Vincent stared for a moment, blank faced before the mare thanks to the mask. He reached for a fallen spoon, one of the few that had fallen on the counter. He then sat down before her and waited. All but Little Luna was silent, even the onlookers recalling these events. Past Vincent was patient and he'd wait, not that he had to.

She raised her gaze to the knight, seeing him offering a slice of banoffee pie. She glared once anger, tears of sorrow turning to fiery anger.

“What? What mockery is-”

“Truce!” Past Vincent exclaimed, silencing her. “A momentary truce. You need it, Luna.” She sneered at him but he continued. “I'm sorry.” He placed the plate on the tiled floor and slid it over, Little Luna tucking her tail closer so that the cream couldn't stain it. It wasn't intangible anymore or yet. “This is my private piece of cake I keep in the royal fridge. I like a treat for myself from time to time.”

She wiped away a tear that had ran into some residual flour on her cheek.

“I can't imagine what your going through,” he said. He ignored her snort and continued, “I won't sugar coat it and say it will be easy returning, I won't tell you I will bow and scrape the floor because you asked for it.” He shifted around to sit with his back the counter but maintained eye contact. Another annotation: 'flat ears, hurt by words'.

“I will say that I'm not scared of you in the slightest, even before tonight.”

She perked up, raising her muzzle from her knees.

He continued. “I am not afraid of you because I can see that you so dreadfully hate what you were, so, so long ago. I can feel your regret. No, it won't be easy, returning to princess-hood, but you have time.”

He brought his hand before him, flexing his five digits confined beneath the three digited gloves. “Equestria... Today's Equestria will happily take you back, in time. Maybe a month, maybe a year, but if you listen to what your sister says and just be patient, you'll get everything you wished for.”

Past Vincent reached up his hood. “Well, maybe not that last one. Tell me, have you ever tried banoffee pie?” he asked her. She shook her head and he tapped the floor, beside the plate of pie. “You should. As good as argument to stay with us I've ever known.”

“Stranger, you talk as if I'm a child that needs to be coddled, who fails to understand the reality of the world.” She pushed the pie away. “You insult me even when trying to help me.”

Princess Luna rolled her eyes and patted present Ser Vincent on his desert coat's shoulder. “Ignore her, she was partly touched, I assure you.”

That made Vincent chuckle.

Past Vincent then pulled back the hood and revealing the back of his human head, and his ears, to Little Luna. She stared. “Believe me, I've had plenty of time to get adjust to the world I don't fit into.” He reached up to the straps on the back of his head.

“What... what are you?”

He stopped, turning to face her and spoke with a grin to his voice, “Why, I'm a knight, first and foremost.” He proceeded to undo the straps,

“And you were a princess. Now you're not, but in time, you'll earn it back. You have your sister's unconditional love, you'll gain the trust of castle staff, then piece by piece, you regain the love of Equestria.”

He removed the mask and flipped it around to stare back, but out of the corner of his eye he looked to a jaw-dropped Little Luna.

“Luna, I don't call you princess only because you haven't been reinstated as a co-ruler.” He fully turned to his head to face her. “I am deeply sorry for bringing forth such emotional trouble for you, I'm not used this sort of scenario, but that does not excuse my seemingly heartless nature. It was impolite, even by my standards, and unprofessional, something I often despise.”

“What are you?” Little Luna asked as half her mane fell over her eye.

Past Vincent simply smirked, raising a rueful brow above his warm green eyes. “I do recall stating I was a knight, a Solaris Knight.”

“That doesn't answer my question,” Little Luna pressed.

His smile grew. “Oh, it does.” He nodded his head, eyes growing distant as he looked back to the face of the mask. “It's what I choose to be but...” He thumbed the mask's face, his expression falling. “Well, I'm called a human for what its worth... which isn't much I assure you.” He then cast her a sideways look. “Are you Nightmare Moon?”

She shuddered but shook her head. “Not anymore.”

He gave her a soft smile. “I believe you. I just...” He trailed off, scrunching his face as he mentally hunted down the write words. “... I just hope that, even though you know it will be tough, I hope you believe that one day you and your sister will rule side by side, and be loved by all.” He steadily climbed to his boots, taking the plate of banoffee pie with him. He then extended a gloved hand down to her. “Welcome to Equestria, I hope to see that us misfits can finally fit right in, then I'll call you Princess Luna.”

She stared at him, and then the hand, a smile sprouting across her muzzle for a reasons she couldn't understand. She took his hand and he helped her up.

“Are there many of your kind in Equestria, Ser Knight?” Little Luna asked.

“Only three,” Vincent answered with a neutral tone. He began refitting the mask. “Mother, Father, and I. This is the world I was born into and I've been fighting to carve myself a bit of a content life.” Once he fitted his mask, he turned to her, leaning on the counter and pushing the slice of pie towards her. “Now? Well, nopony gets in my way of a happy life.”

Little Luna took a bite of the pie. Her eyes widened and a smile spread across her once tear-stained cheeks. Her hunger having returned, she began to ravenously demolish the pie. Past Vincent had paused to observed this, earning another blush when the princess noticed. She gulped and offered a sheepish smile.

“Please don't let me stop you,” he said raising his free hand. Once she returned to dining at a more refined paced, he asked, “So what do you think of modern day banoffee pie?”

With an excited glimmer in her eye, or perhaps with sugar rush setting in, she spoke... using the royal Canterlot voice. “We love it!” The entire room shook.

Past Ser Vincent and the onlooker grimaced at the volume, but past Vincent was nearly blown out of his boots by the sheer force. Loose pots and cutlery were launched behind him. His coat fluttered as Little Luna covered her mouth. There was a deafening ringing heard by the Vincents, one having just experienced it and the other just remembering it vividly.

“We're just about done, Ser Vincent,” Luna said, waving her hand and dispelling the world around the onlookers.

Ser Vincent once again found himself in a world of mist and constellations. He buttoned up his desert sand coat, letting his mask hang in the crook of his arm as he looked to Luna. “Why did I need to do this in the first place. I thought you were waking me up?” He grimaced as the ringing remained in his left ear.

“I had to make sure your memory was functioning properly,” she explained. “Magic, it makes you stronger in more ways than one... in terms of strength meaning it has influence on muscles and the like, correct?”

“Aye, amongst my nervous system too.” He pondered over fitting the mask but decided against it. “Faster reaction time, motion sensitive sight, improved healing in that as long as I have magic flowing in me I'll go through the clotting process faster.”

“And in terms of mental faculties... it tampers with your mind after prolonged exposure,” Princess Luna added. “Your mind was, well, healing by strengthening nerve connections and replacing what the doctor calls 'grey matter' with healthier matter... or something-- new age jargon-- after being exposed to your magic for hours.”

“Good thing I only get less than a few minutes worth during adrenaline rushes,” Vincent remarked, rubbing the back of his head with unease. This was the first time he'd heard of his unnatural magic tampering with his mind beyond making him perceive the world as slower for a moment. “So, at least I'll be fit as a fiddle when I awake.”

“Ah.” Was all she said a first before chewing her lip. “Not quite.”

“What happened?” he asked, a scowl quickly setting upon his brow.

“You've woken up numerous times but with memory problems, which was why my presence was desired here. I solved that issue it seems. As for your physical state... you're not going to walk away from this one, or for a while for that matter.” Princess Luna said with unease. She then let her horn glow and the world around them soon became too bright for him to handle.

A new world, the waking world; Vincent felt it as a throbbing in his hip and leg, and as a warmth of blanket up to his chest. A raspy breath burned his throat and lungs, the taste of anaesthetic heavy in the air. There was slight scent of blueberry, fleeting like a dream after awakening. Over a steady, electronic beeping, Vincent heard the rustle of sheets by his side.

“Gah!” He grimaced, sharp canines becoming exposed as tried to sit up. There was immense pain in his side that made him freeze. Moving his legs felt like sandpaper was being rubbed into his very bones, the gritty pieces chaffing against every sinew and muscle that wrapped around them.

“At ease, Ser Knight. “ Princess Luna was standing beside the hospital bed he lay upon, her voice barely above a whisper yet clear and distinct. She was as he saw her in his mind, elegant, graceful and with a mane and tail of the night-time sky. With a glow of her horn she tried to tuck him back in. “You must rest your wounds.”

Vincent had propped himself up by his elbows and scanned the room through blurry eyes. His dirty hair had grown long enough to touch his brow, fall to the back of his neck whilst his coppery stubble had thickened. Tied to the foot of the bed were several balloons wishing him well, on his bedside table were numerous unopened letters. The haze left him after a few blinks. It was a single room, medicine cabinets to the left, chairs for visitors to his right, behind a frowning Princess Luna.

None of the seats were occupied. Vincent wheezed out a dry lungful of stale air.

“Sleep, Ser Vincent. The girls have been visiting by the day but weren't allowed to enter the room,” Luna said, sitting on the bed, mindful not to touch Vincent. “Though Pinkie was only warned after she barged in.”

“Why?” Vincent asked as he eyed a nearby window. A small bird hopped back and forth before taking off into the late evening.

“Why?” Luna's ears shot up, her expression almost aghast. “They're your friends are they not?”

“I... don't... know.” Vincent was not use to many visitors if he was ever so put out of commission. One or two colleagues, his parents, and of course Blue Blood often had snide remarks he'd need to make. What friends he did have he hardly saw much of. He knew he was warming up to the girls but never knew where the line was for friendship these days. He never bothered with it shortly into his career. He'd never... woken up to balloons tied to his bed before.

“Well I suppose beyond their friendship... Fluttershy has interests medically as to your condition, as well as on behalf of a friend of hers, a Stanley?” The princess gave him a lop-sided smile. “Rainbow Dash wanted to see your 'war wound' but Applejack was there to keep her in check. Also, in light of your wardrobe after such blood lose, Rarity has taken up caring for your effects.” She rested her furred hands on her lap and perch herself on the corner of the bed. “I believe Rainbow Dash called them 'snip-shorts', are your species...”

“Yes. No sheathe from birth,” Vincent replied, not meeting her eyes. “And my father and I just call them boxer shorts.”

“Yes, well, Rarity is making replacements. They split when the cannon went off,” Luna added before leveling him a serious stare. “Do you recall what happened days ago?”

“Not yet.” He heard a distant roar in the fog of his memory then voices, commands, breaching the surface. The was fire, there was him dragging a minotaur, there was him passing through train carts to join his fellow soldiers. Sand. The loading door of the carriage fell and then a deafening bang as he gazed into the slimy, split mouth of a tatzlwurm like a horrendous blossoming flower.

He gritted his teeth further when a spike of pain slammed into his thigh, making him flatten against the mattress and pillow. “What's wrong with me?”

“You fractured half the ribs on your side, shattered your hip and popped your femur from its socket,” Princess Luna answered, standing up and patting down her dress. “Though the doctor assures me you will return to full health in time, it will be a while. Your rib cage was their primary focus and that has healed, though you will feel it. Next came reassembling your hip and reinserting the femur, of which you are still receiving advanced medical magical treatment for. You also took a deep incision close to your groin.”

“So...”

“All is well, Ser Vincent, fret not. Your potion assisted in saving most of your skin, but the wound was still deep.” Luna smiled, reassuringly. “Tis only the hip that the doctors are concerned for now. For now, rest, tomorrow you will endure the comfort of your friends and hospital food.” She stood in a more spacious portion of the room, flaring her grand indigo wings. “It was a pleasure despite the terrible circumstance, Ser Vincent.”

He offered her a weak smile, jade eyes shimmering in the late sun. “It was my honour, Princess Luna.”

Her smile grew as her horn charged. Once more he was bathed in light, but was left alone to care for his wounds. For now.