Author's Notes:

My deepest apologies for how long is has taken for this story to update, there is not enough words to convey that. I would recommend re-reading the story given the amount of dust it had collected whilst I was, and still am, busy with real life stuff.

Thank you to those that still wish to read this.

Ser Vincent found the train journey to be somewhat taxing on his healing wounds; the sway of the train as it glided around corners, even with ease, put pressure on his hips. Any attempt to combat the sensation resulted in straining his injured side – no amount of medication as helping.

The pain was chronic but the trip was with positive company. He’d been cornered and surrounded by Rarity, Pinkie, and Rainbow for the trip. It was by the entrance where the wheelchair could fit on-board and he faced all three mares, visually directing his attention with a turn of his masked stare. Other than that he was statuesque as ever.

It was strange. At “worst” the prince would tolerate a private booth when a carriage could not be taken for his personal use, resulting in Ser Vincent taking the aisle seat by the door for security. Yet, there he had been, boxed in wheels that were locked in place and three mares, one with his payment on her pink laps, one fast enough to outpace cannonballs, and another who could wheel him back in place with but a thought.

It had also been strange because Blue Blood and Princess Twilight sat at the furthest end of the carriage. They had talked, Twilight shooting what she must have assumed were secret glances his way, indicating that Vincent was the topic of discussion. And given Blue Blood only stared directly at her by his side, never letting his gaze wonder as a normal pony might, it had only served to cement Vincent’s assumption.

’She has her ears wilted and her hands are rubbing against each other. What are you telling Her Majesty about me, Blue Blood? Spilling secrets are we?’

Vincent had clenched the black book tighter in both hands as it rested in his lap for the entire journey. His fingers felt like tarantula legs struck with rigor mortis when he unfurled them as they disembarked the train at Canterlot Station.

Canterlot was his true home. The station was outside the main city where a towering wall of alabaster spanned it entirely. It had gilded features surrounding the main gate, the moat as it were being the river that fell flowed from the mountain high. The station as busy, many a pony leaving and embarking one of the many trains currently stationed. Many here were wore their status and displays of wealth through means of fine suits or dresses, even the casual typical clothe-less ponies sported noble grace or at least a monocle.

He was pushed out of the train and many saw him. They reacted as they should; gentlestallions gawked at the appearance of Ser Vincent with some of the elements in tow, many upstanding mares went doe-eyed at the sight of the prince. Home was where the ponies respected Vincent, or at the least feared him. It was… safe like that.

He had some control of that balance and that had respect heavily outweighing the fear, but there was just that pinch for ponies to know never to cross him. He was a good knight, he internalised all of what a knight was supposed to be and carried the title with pride. His achievements were open to those who chose to look and he never pushed them onto others. If they wanted to know what he was capable of then they needed only ask somepony.

And yet, as, perhaps for the first time in years Ser Vincent was wheeled out like a crippled recruit that flunked basic training. He could hardly move in his seat, and at best he could fall back on directing his stoic, masked stare to a pony that stared back too long. But it was there, in those ever over expressive eyes.

Ser Vincent Costello, of the Solaris Knights, The Nopony… was as breakable as anypony else.

Vincent had never had delusions of invincibility but he crafted his image meticulously, especially for his home in Canterlot where image was everything. Ponies saw the hood and green long coat, the mask, and gloves, but hardly any bruised skin or pain-grimaced face. His clothing was scratched or cut, his mask chipped and cracked, but he wasn’t ever seen as broken. His was an image without being crippled… without being seen weak ever again.

But a job needed to be done.

“So what now?” Rainbow asked she pushed him along the street, towards the walled city centre. Rarity walked beside her and Pinkie still carried the crate of platinum.

“I, for one, would like to deposit my savings,” Vincent began with a soft tone, seething under the stares of passers-by. He voice wouldn’t betray him. “Then I need to set my equipment up to produce the potion and then I’ll be retiring to my home until morning.”

“It will be an overnight affair?” Rarity said with concern, “Oh, but I’ve only brought this and my bag.”

“Have you forgotten that you no longer live here?” Blue Blood asked the knight. Vincent couldn’t look back but knew the royals were following him, but even that was a distant thought as a realisation finally set in.

Canterlot wasn’t home anymore.

He slumped into his chair, his gloved hands sliding off the arm rests onto his lap. The weight of this revelation lowered his gaze to the passing cobblestone his chair rolled over. It wasn’t a surprising thought, simply a heavy one; it was a ramification that hadn’t settled when he had moved out of the palace, his mind being elsewhere. He had moved into a new house but hadn’t called it home, truly home. The seasons had changed and yet it only hit him then. His heart was always for Canterlot, even if he had no place in it.

But like the train hitting the end of the line, slowing to a crawl, it finally dawned on him as he returned. Ser Vincent was only stationed in Ponyville whilst Nopony had been booted out of Canterlot -- where did Vincent Costello live now?

“R-right, of course,” Vincent said. He cleared his throat. “Very well, I’ll find myself some lodging for the night.”

“I’ll see to accommodations for the evening,” the prince said, “Though I can’t grant you your old sleeping quarters. Will you ladies be staying? I’ll have rooms sorted without hassle.”

“Wow, really?” Pinkie asked.

“Oh yes,” Blue Blood replied coolly, that air of high nobility seeping into his tone. “I just need to know who is staying. I’ll have the castle staff provide rooms fit for present company.”

“The palace?” Rarity murmured apprehensively. Had she been a bit further away Vincent doubted that he would have heard her. “I am severely under-dressed for this,” she whined.

“You look as radiant as ever, Rarity,” Vincent said looking up to her, his words genuinely warm. She looked back as he continued. “I’m yet to see you in anything less than stunning. You’ll be a welcome addition to the palace.”

With a warm smile she replied, “Why thank you, Vinnie.”

He didn’t think it needed to be said but perhaps she was as every bit as image conscious in regards to fashion as he was to being seen as knight. It made sense. As mares go it was no secret that Rarity was immensely attractive, and her class and cultured mind only multiplied that aspect. ‘Perhaps I should have informed her of how the day was to pan out. Maybe that would have dissuaded her from joining.’

He felt Rainbow lean down, putting her muzzle close to where his ear would be under the hood. “Smooth like crunchy peanut butter, huh, Vinnie?” She snickered as she pulled back, Vincent gritting his teeth and turning her way slightly.

“Then I guess we should split up,” Twilight recommended. “Blue Blood and I—“

“Prince Blue Blood.”

Even though Vincent couldn’t see her, he imagined a strained smile on Princess Twilight’s face. “Yes, my apologies. We’re going to speak to Princess Celestia about staying the night, meet you at the palace gates?”

With a general agreement the party split up, the royals heading to the castle, the girls and the knight heading to the most secure bank in Equestria. However, Twilight asked to speak with Rarity first.

“Go on ahead, this won’t take long,” Twilight said. Then Vincent was ushered up the road by Rainbow, out of earshot.

It wasn’t long before the group had reconvened and so Vincent had guided Rarity, Pinkie, and Dash towards the bank. It had been an uphill struggle, literally; The Royal Equestrian Security Cavern was much grander than its name would suggest as it had come a long, long way since when it was first a guarded hoard in cave millenniums ago.

As it had been then and still was now, the bank was the most secured place in Equestria, second to the palace. There had been expansion and burrowing further into the mountain, leaving the front building a large grand affair; white marble matching the Canterlot stone made pillars and arches over the front of the entrance, the sturdy walls were punctured by windows, and whatever gold was not adorned to the walls as tribute to Her Majesty belonged to the tens of guards adorned in heavy armour and arms.

Trees lined the road leading up to the entrance, the greenery of the gardens on either side putting Vincent’s coat to shame. Then again, his coat was better suited for merging into natural undergrowth as opposed to the pampered flora here. The girls had marvelled, Rarity switching with Rainbow on pushing duties. She tried to spread her wings but Vincent warned her about the no flying rules in place. She had argued a case but Vincent merely shrugged and told her she’d be speaking to the guards instead of him if she tried anything.

They approached the tall guard doors and all Vincent had to do was lower his sleeve and reveal his coppery bracer. A flash of the Solaris Knight insignia and he and the girls were allowed in.

The air within the entrance rotunda was heavy with bureaucracy, from the clatter of fingers at typewriters to the rich scent of wooden desks. It was warm and that would be without Vincent armour and clothing. Ornate chandeliers hung from the tall corridors that branched out from the centre, deeper into the mountain. What little natural light was allowed in fell to halfway into the room, at the centre round desk.

Whilst many worked at desks in neat little alcove, dressed in fine business attire, the unicorn at the front desk was signing several letters or notes with quills suspended in emerald magic. Her three-digited hand flicked through a ledger, her eyes looking down through small reading glasses at the end of her muzzle. She was a petite thing and had worked here long before Vincent’s parents entered Equestria years ago.

“A busy day at the office?” Vincent began cordially as he was pushed to the front. The desk came to his shoulders as he sat in the wheel chair. He presented his Solaris knight’s insignia on his bracer for identification.

Her ear twitched and smile graced her muzzle, several quills bring set neatly down. She looked his way, a jovial reply dying in her mouth as soon as she saw him. “Oh my, I might ask you the same thing, Ser Vincent.” Her ears shot up in response to many others behind her looked towards him, seeing him… weakened.

She cleared her throat, glancing between the former Elements of Harmony. “I don’t suppose you’ll be making the, ah, final withdraw as it were?”

“He ain’t dying,” Rainbow was quick to say from his side. Vincent saw her fold her arms and shift her weight to one side.

“No, no, I’m not retiring just yet, Mrs Record,” Ser Vincent amended, adding a practiced warm chuckle. He waved her off and felt his ribs bite. His fingers curled as they fell back onto the armrest. “A simple set back involving a tatzlwurm. I’ll be fine after a night’s sleep.”

“Perhaps a few more than one night, dear.” Rarity tapped him on the shoulder. “You’re under watch now.”

Vincent didn’t answer and kept his masked gaze on the desk clerk.

“I’ll be making a deposit as per usual,” was all he said before he rolled his chair around the side. Rarity was quick to take such duties from him and he guided them towards the mouth of a tall corridor.

“How much today?” Mrs Record asked whilst returning to her busy job. He’d done this long enough to know she wasn’t looking back.

“Forty kilos.”

He heard a quill drop from a nearby work station but paid it no mind. There were only thirty vaults located in this bank – ponies that used this banks services were directed to another branch inside the city itself. This place was reserved for those with… unique items to say the least.

It was more of a heavy storage facility for expensive and rare artifacts than a bank, but since its roots started out as a treasury with Fort Canterlot standing guard then it wasn’t long before money and bullions found lodgings here as well. As the castle became home to noble families, as a city grew around it, ponies needed a place to store their wealth as did Princess Celestia when she turned the city into the capital of the country.

Ser Vincent Costello was only permitted a place due to his friendship with the prince. It was difficult storing much of his rarer materials, books or ingredients, as well as potions with long shelf life, in his modest sized room. The one he had already had to turn half off into an alchemy lab. Though his newer residence was just as well suited for the task it would be a monumental effort to relocated everything from the vault.

It also held another two pieces of great significance to him, besides his distant future plans.

“Whoa!” Pinkie gawked at the large square door. It was polished steel, thicker than the length of her leg. Well, it seemed more like a sheet of metal; if not for the hand print in the centre then it would appear to be an exposed part of the structure built into the mountain.

Rainbow approached the vault, reaching out for the alien hand print. It was for a hand with five digits. She placed her furred hand on the indentation, fingers spread apart. She chuckled at the sight of the two slim fingers that jutted out where hers left gaps. She glanced back, flicking her rainbow mane out of her face. “It’s easy to forget sometimes, I’ll give you that, Vinnie.”

A deep blare scared her, the alarm a rumbling call that came and went. She snatched her hand back, looking to the vault door to see runic lines darting out, taking sharp ninety-degree turns to here and there in thick, red magic.

“It’s easier not to think, me thinks as well.” Vincent chuckled alongside Rarity and Pinkie at her scowl-slash-pout.

“I’ll have it open.” He pulled back his sleeve, unclasped his bracer, and removed his glove, handing them to Rainbow to hold. “Don’t lose them, please.” He felt the coarse fur of her hand against his bare palm and nearly recoiled. The air was relatively cool against his exposed fingers but that was probably due to wearing as much as he did.

“Now for the hard part—“ he said as he tried to rise out of his seat. He was cut off by Rarity pushing him closer to the door.

“Now, now, let us not make more work for ourselves,” she berated as she drew close to the door, close enough for him to reach out and enter his hand.

‘I see that Fluttershy never left us.’ Vincent wasn’t sure what the commonly acceptable level of bitterness to his current predicament was acceptable but he would argue to the death that he hadn’t come close yet. No matter what anypony would say.

Upon entering his hand print the wall lit up green, the runic lines centralising to pulse the name “Ser Vincent Costello” in neon green before the magic faded. Then metal ground against metal as the wall slid to the left, disappearing into the wall.

Inside on either side were stacked shelves, rows upon rows with potions seemingly disappearing into the wall. They were sectioned off in their separate alcoves, with a desk at the bottom of each, books stacked neatly upon them. Beyond, past the trophy potions were various chemistry instruments and refrigerating devices. Held deep within were particularly rarer ingredients that could be preserved for a very special day. And, yet, despite the walls of potions and magic, the girl’s eyes fell upon what lay in the centre.

“Cool,” Pinkie remarked as she lugged the crate of platinum into the long room.

“Is that…” Rarity began as she focused on the middle of the hall.

“Aye, it’s my official armour,” Vincent replied he was pushed towards the tall glass cabinet.

“Now that’s how I imagined a knight to look,” Dash remarked.

I t was a plated suit of tall armour, polished sheets of sparkling silver and steel grey intertwining into a juggernaut’s shell. The silver highlights trimmed the shoulder pauldrens and elbows, engraved with load-lightening runes. Though the girls had never seen Solaris knight’s suit of armour, they could guess what changes had been made, mainly in the helmet; the metal curved around neatly enough but the visor was reminiscent of a ship’s bow, the narrow slit between the silver fringe piece and the visor ringed with vent holes.

The boots and gauntlets were missing and an indentation in the centre of the torso was signs of displaced coin of sorts. It was hard not to notice the last one in particular as it was surrounded by a golden depiction of a blazing sun.

“So I take it that this is formal wear?” Rarity quipped as she pushed him closer.

“It’s a comfort thing,” Vincent admitted, “For my combat style I prefer to be a tad more nimble though there are times I’ve had to don this set.” He regarded it with a slight tilt of the head, his shadowed gaze looking at the hallowed helmet. “It has drawback in exchange for the benefits; can’t carry nearly as many potions for one thing.” He looked back to Rarity. “I need you to take me around to the far wall, please.” He tightened his grip on the locked book.

“Certainly,” she replied, still eyeing the armour as she pushed him around.

“You got quite a lot of stuff in here, Vinnie,” Rainbow commented, taking to the air and flying her way to a study a few top shelves.

“Don’t. Touch. Anything on the top shelves,” Vincent curtly commanded. It made her flinch and wobble in the air for a moment.

“Sheesh, alright.” She landed on her hooves following Pinkie as she merrily walked past, the box of platinum in her hands. “

“So are these, like, your best potions?” Pinkie glanced around as she followed Vincent and Rarity.

“Indeed, to your right are potions that have had their recipes edited to suit a human body,” Vincent explained with a gesture of the hand from his good side. “Rather toxic for you. To my left, however, maybe a few to your liking.” His voice shifted to a sterner tone, “Look but do not touch. If you have any interests maybe I’ll brew something at a later date.”

“Cool!” Pinkie exclaimed.

“But first, Pinkie, set my payment down with the rest over there, if you’d be so kind.” Ser Vincent gestured towards the stacks of small crates, each branded by Vincent’s contractor. Five high and three across. “And then you can both browse as you see fit,” he concluded.

He heard her quickly set the wooden crate in front of the rest, saw her shake her arms before zipping over to the potion selection. “There should be a clipboard that lists what’s present, please refer to that, you two,” he called over his shoulder.

“Found it,” Rainbow said.

“So do I keep going to the wall or am I missing something?” Rarity asked whilst still pushing him towards the far wall. They came upon three dark freezer chests, gently humming in a line upon the back wall. Vincent gestured to his right, at a stack of briefcases.

“Since you’re so keen on my assistance, could you put me by the freezer on the left? Whilst I’m rooting through for ingredients could you get me the third briefcase on the right?” he asked politely, warming his tone. Though skeptical at first she obliged. Whilst her back was turned he quickly reached for the space between the freezers. He felt healed sinew and muscle protest as he snagged a small metal key, a sharp exhale rapidly evolving into heaving breathes.

“Vincent are you alright?” Rarity asked as she set the metal briefcase beside his chair.

His body froze but he felt the strain of his face grimacing, teeth grinding as he held his breath. He desperately tried not to grasp the arm rest, in fear of exposure and in crushing it. A spark lit inside him, a familiar primal flare of magic that he tried to snuff. He closed his eyes to prevent any visual cues from exposing his pain.

Even after years of practice in disguising his voice, it was strain to keep a calm warm tone. “I’m fine, just needed to stand up for a moment.”

“Not happening,” she sternly chided, lifting the lid on the freezer herself. Wafts of icy fog spilled out of the chest as she stood with her hands on her hips, tail lashing. “Most of this looks labelled so tell me what you need.” She bent over to reach into the freezer.

“Xander root for starters, should be—“

“I’m sorry, Ser Knight, but…” Rarity bit her lip and glanced back to Vincent, “Apparently, for what you need to do, you won’t need it. Or so Twilight told me. That you would have other uses for that.”

Vincent didn’t say anything. He simply let the quiet sound of his leather gloves rubbing into the plastic arm as he gripped it fiercely speak for him.

“I see. His Majesty has you on watch.” He lowered his masked gaze to her hooves, a dejected sigh escaping him. The direct approach wouldn’t work. He snapped his attention up to her, looking right into those kind sapphire eyes. “What I need is solution Diate’s solution three, two bottles of red-naz four. The Diate’s solution is purple and in a small jar as long as your finger, the red-naz is a dark red, in a similar sized bottle. Both will have labels. Remember, Diate’s solution three and red-naz four.”

“Ooookay,” Rarity said slowly. He heard bottled being moved about, the clatter of glass on glass making him grimace. “You know, I may have just learnt what my clients feel like when I discuss the distinction between the names of colours.” He threw out a rehearsed chuckle as he turned the key on the lock of his little black book.

“And this is where you’ll be staying,” Prince Blue Blood said, opening the door to where Princess Twilight would be staying the night. “Forgive the sub-standard setting but based upon how you described the experience of that potion, I felt a more spacious arrangement might be fitting for you.”

If sub-standard meant one of the many luxury rooms befitting guests from diplomats to high ranking officers, then she couldn’t comprehend just what would be up-to-snuff for the prince. It was a queen sized bed, four poster, with elegant red curtains, matching the scarlet rug at the foot that stretched over to the self-grooming station. The air was rich, and the displays of wealth came from the finely stocked make up selection and the gilded lounging couch by the Prench doors to the marble balcony. It was quite spacious in the middle, but the walls were donned with fine paintings of days of yore, a tall mirror between the grooming station and what she knew was a walk in wardrobe.

“Oh, well, we did arrive on short notice,” Twilight remarked with a rueful grin. It grew as Blue Bloods brow fell.

“A princess should not have to settle for less than stellar,” he replied and closed the door behind her.

“You know,” she began with a raised brow, taking a seat upon the bed and crossing her hooves, “Princess Celestia’s room isn’t nearly as big, nor is jam-packed with paintings or ornate wall lamps.” She idly let her eyes glance to the ceiling, doing a double take. “Is that a chandelier?”

His ears twitched. “Is that so?” Blue Blood remarked as he adjusted the tie of his white suit. “I assume, then, that she had all the availability of furnishings at her disposal, after-all her room does also feature an ensuite bathing room, office, and “living” area to best describe it.”

“It’s not the same thing, not at all!” Twilight countered, folding her arms beneath her bust as he sauntered to the opposing wall. His smug smirk was not nearly as grating as the way he used his hand to comb his golden locks to the side.

“Point is royalty befits royal treatment.” The prince folded his arms and rested against the wall, arm blue eyes meeting hers. “The title does come with perks; I’m amazed that you’re so opposed to them. It’s actually rather charming in a way,” he added with a tilt of the head.

Her tail lashed as she set the potion beside her. “It’s not my style. I’d rather be approachable so anypony with problems wouldn’t feel the slightest bit intimidated.”

He raised a regal brow, his ears fluttering in an unseen wind, as if he’d lost control of them in a storm of emotion. It struck her as odd – his icy, cold stare almost warmed, like a sunny winter day. But whatever kindling she sparked was snuffed by an ever stoic mask. “And do I intimidate?” he asked with a devilish grin.

She snorted at the notion, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, Blueykins, you sure put Nightmare Moon to shame.” Twilight had seen Rarity pale enough to know it was possible to be whiter than white, which made the look of horror on the prince’s face all the more delightful.

He snorted in a rather undignified manner and his tail whipped into the wall. “Curse that name. Only Lady Emily may call me that!”

“See. You can try and look tough but one blemish and you crumble,” Twilight replied. She fingered the cork in the potion and eyed the Canterlot horizon through the Prench doors. A silence filled the air.

“You’re right,” Blue Blood said to her surprise, “We all must look the part we are to play. A beacon of hope or… a gilded dispenser of the royal treasury.”

She looked up to him and found him staring back, intensely. It is often debated in hushed whispers away from the royal court as to the authenticity of the Blue Blood line and its ties to Celestia. Twilight believed in her former tutor and took her word on issue that he was, indeed, her great (times by few) great nephew.

Yet, when she saw that warm, sad smile… the same Celeista once had in those days she remembered Luna dearly in front of Twilight… her opinion changed. In those sky blue eyes were many days of winter by the hearth, of warm kindness in the cold. It was fleeting but… she believed he was a descendant of Celestia.

“I guess it all comes down to the company one is expected to keep,” he added before looking out the window with knitted brows.

“Blue Blood, I didn’t—“

“Well, let’s do a little test to prove yourself to me,” he interrupted, as if she hadn’t said anything at all. “Eight years ago, tell me in detail what happened down the hall eight years ago.” He folded his arms and his expression shifted to house a cocky grin and a skeptical quirk of the brow. “I’ll ensure you’re not disturbed.

She agreed and it wasn’t long before she regretted doing so. She drank the potion and the world shook in her head. Her reality phased out and was replaced with everything that was before, the world of eight years ago now before her.

‘It’s a lot more purple than what I imagined it would be’.Her thoughts on her remodelled room, or possibly yet-to-be remodelled room, were that it was better in the past. Purple curtains on her bed post, lavender carpet, lilac book shelf with ample reading material—whose idea was it to change all that?

She stepped out into the hallway but yelled in surprised as guard charged through her. “Sorry!” Her reflexive apology fell on deaf ears and she remembered that she had no influence on the past what so ever. Which was waaaaaaay better than the last time she messed with time.

“Don’t you dare hurt him!”

“Let go!”

“Calm down!”

“Blue Blood?” Twilight whispered to herself. She followed the guard, her suspicion on what Present Blue Blood wanted confirmed when she reached the end. The guard she had followed was unicorn with a grey coat and was standing between the young (and admittedly cute) teenage prince and a prisoner.

“Release me!” the prisoner roared, slinging his weight and strength into his shoulder. The earth pony guard on that arm stumbled, his grip loosening. It was enough for the worn, beaten, and blooded captive to swing his hand free, ball it into a fist and sloppily thump the guard on his other arm in the muzzle. That dropped the guard and busted his snout but the guard he’d shook off momentarily seized him once more, drawing the prisoner’s ire.

“Vincent?” Twilight cupped her hand over her mouth and simply stared in shock at the state the young human was in.

He had remnants of a tuxedo draped on him, torn and shredded, the white dress shirt stained red in places. Those stains were horribly large. Soil and stone dust had been beaten into the suit, his exposed, bloodied elbows and shins, and sparkles of pink were in his shoulder length hair. He had his back to her and she could see the exposed gash in the small of his back where he had paled to near white. A red wound oozed crimson and… tar?

Black roots pulsed under his skin, a network of thin lines surfacing near the cut. Twice she’d seen a sight of brutality with this potion.

“Vincent what happened to you?” she asked, more to herself. But he turned his head as if he’d heard her. And the vision got worse.

He seemed almost feral; a furious sneer bared his red-stained teeth, his nose was scratched and weeping scarlet, and his cheek had a deep incision. That was what she could see through the long, stone-grey hair. There were small patches of brown, like islands of earth in a desert of stone and pink shards.

“You should run,” he growled in a sinister voice she only heard in partial from the knight in the present. It set her on edge as she felt the hatred in his words spill out towards the guard that held him firm. She saw his tail tuck before Vincent tried to head-butt him.

She could only stare as he continued to fight whilst restrained and with an obviously broken arm, her heart in her throat as he glared back once more. There was a lot of hatred in those eyes. She could see it: in the purple wisps of toxic smoke, further polluted by a green acidic ting, in the solid red pupils that glared back through her. There was an intensity matching a certain old tyrant of the Crystal Empire.

She saw Vincent filled with pure, unadulterated hatred and barely standing.

“Please stop it, Vincent!” Blue Blood cried, breaking past the guard and passing through her. His ivory furred hands were bloodied.

She looked to Vincent as he once again escaped his guard grasp and his eyes fell on Blue Blood as he tried to rest a hand him. A calming gesture easily misconstrued for someone in Vincent’s state.

“No! Blue Blood!” Twilight screamed, impulsively reach for the young prince. It wouldn’t matter because Vincent still lunged at the prince.

Her world was mostly white, cornered by scarlet. She held onto the white fuzz of warmth before her as the world shifted back to the present, and the walls were redecorated. After a few blinks she found that she was pressing herself against the chest of the older Blue Blood. Her cheeks burned whilst he simply looked back with glazed eyes.

She pushed herself away, keeping her arms on the lapels of his blazer. Her ears were flat and her wings fluttered. She gasped as he raised a hand and gently lay it onto her fore arm. Their eyes met and he gave her a sad smile.

“I feel as if I know what part you were up to, but please, you first,” was all he said with melancholy in his words.

“Vincent was… he had…” She gestured around her eyes. It didn’t help the words form in her mouth. She huffed and then rested a hand beneath her horn. “Vincent looked like he’d lost a fight with an Ursa Major! What happened? Why were his eyes all evil and hate filled?”

“One bad day,” Blue Blood simply said. All he needed was a shrug given how easy he gave the answer. “A very defining day. The next would be, oh, three years later? Five years ago?” Then he shrugged. “Either way, I know it works…So!” He clapped his hands together as Twilight backed up onto the bed, her mouth agape. “Perhaps you could stroll through early Canterlot? Find my great-to the ninth- grand papa, Iron Blood. He was merchant, would you believe, but he rose through the poor house before that and—“

“No!” Twilight said, standing up and prodding him in the chest. “What was that about?”

Blue Blood was not fazed. His icy stare returned, devoid of emotion. “A matter for you and your knight to discuss. Now then. Where will you go next?”

“Prince Blue Blood you can’t—“

“It saved him, you know.” Blue Blood added, glancing down to his hooves. His folded arms fell to his side as he released a sigh. “I had nightmares of my best friend tearing my throat out with those teeth. You know, for a human, his canines are abnormally sharp, though nothing on par with a dogs for certain. But when a mouth like that snaps at you, one simply forgets it’s your friend doing it.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. “He got my cheek but magic was on hand that prevent it from scarring. He heard my shriek-- yes, it was a shriek of a stallion that’s hardly known combat and was frightened—and it ended his onslaught. They dragged him away but I finally got to see those regret filled green eyes at the end of the night. He came back.”

He opened his eyes and Twilight was speechless.

He continued with his stare level with hers, “If you have issue ask Vincent. I’ve shown enough through a fault with my hubris. So let’s change the subject and time period. Your choice, Princess Twilight.”

Maybe he was right. She could deal with it later. All she had to do was keep it out of her mind whilst the potion lasted. To try and forget the sight of horrifying hatred.

Easy.