And then I woke up, sprawled on my bed.

I did not move at all, at first. Everything hurt, much as it had the last time I had experienced a strange dream involving Twilight. Even keeping my eyes open seemed difficult. At some point, I drifted into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

Again, just as before, it was my adorable yet far too loud little sister that awoke me with her impudent knocking and her sweet yet incessant calls that I come down for breakfast.

Answering was… difficult. My throat felt dry, and my mind felt fuzzy at best. But I managed. “I can’t.”

She stopped knocking. “You can’t?”

“No,” I croaked. “I’m ill.”

For all I knew, it was true. I had felt bad the time before, but now? I felt exhausted to the point of death. The very idea of rising filled me with dread.

“Oh… Shall I fetch mother? Do you need anything? Is your door locked?”

It was not, because the fates were kind, so I did not need to let her in. I just groaned wordlessly in reply. Eloquent? No, but it served its purpose. My sister opened the door and took one look at me before nodding.

“Yes, I think I should get mother. Don’t go anywhere!”

Yes, as if I could, I thought with a bit too much acid in my internal tone. But she returned swiftly with my mother, her face painted in worry, and somehow this made things worse. She sat down on the edge of my bed, beside me, and put a warm hand against my forehead.

“You say you feel ill, dear? You certainly look it… Goodness, Rarity. But you were doing well yesterday!”

I groaned at her.

“No, it’s alright, don’t feel the need to answer. I can see it written all over your face. You, my sweet, are confined to bed until the color returns to your cheeks. Sweetie Belle, do be a good sister and bring us up a plate, would you? Not too much. Water, as well, and perhaps a bit of orange juice. Yes, yes, I know we don’t have much left from the last merchant coming through, but your sister is in need. Shoo! Away with you.”

She stayed with me much of the morning, feeding me and then trying her best to keep my spirits up. I was of two minds. On one hand, I felt loved and I quite thoroughly appreciated the attention. On the other, it was all a bit undignified and I felt like a child again.

But eventually, she departed. My father visited and sat with me for some time afterwards, talking of small things before some business with the Reeve called him away. Sweetie Belle tried, bless her, but she mostly succeeded in making me feel even more tired. If such were possible, at least.

Lunch was also light, and I was ravenous. Mother didn’t let me have seconds, insisting that I should wait for the doctor to come in from Canterlot in the morning before I overdid things. I complained, because a lady certainly does not whine, but she has ever been stubborn.

After that, I slept off and on. I would wake, find myself still trapped in my room, and then grow bored and drift back into the arms of restless sleep. It did not help. Not really. But the universe chose to have at least some mercy, and eventually my mother brought me a few books from my shelves. Tawdry things, romance novels I’d acquired from the bookseller in town for a pittance, but I adored them despite their cliche-ridden plots. Anything was better than the tedium of recovery.

After the books, the drudgery lightened some. It was not the best day of my life, certainly, but it was strangely pleasant to languish in bed with a book held high above me. By the time the lights had dimmed enough to make reading difficult, I was feeling remarkably better. Tired? Yes. Very tired. The thought of leaving my bed was still abominable. But some of the cheer I hope is characteristic had returned.

But in all of my distress, I had forgotten something. Something I didn’t remember until my sister brought me dinner.

Twilight.

All at once, the dream came back in vivid detail. I was glad that Sweetie Belle had left, for my cheeks were surely aflame recalling the intensity of what I had felt. Gingerly, I held a hand up and touched my neck.

From that moment until my mother came to see me before she went to bed, I waited for Twilight to visit. At last, I asked after her, and my mother frowned.

“I’m sorry, dear, but she wasn’t feeling up to visiting. She asked that I send her regards. She was quite worried about you. I assured her you would be fine. It’s curious,” she said, after a moment, “that your illnesses seem so similar. But it couldn’t be more than coincidence. Her fragility is inherited.”

“Oh? She’d not spoken of it to me,” I said. “What is the nature of her illness, anyhow?”

My mother shrugged. “A general malaise, you could say. The poor dear seems so tired during the day, but she certainly livens up at night. I’m glad the two of you have gotten along so well. It was fortunate that she came along when she did!”

I readily agreed, though my heart ached a bit.

I had grown strangely used to her company so quickly. When she spoke, I could hear the excitement in her voice over the smallest things. I confess, to myself if no one else, that I have never been so… fascinated by any person so quickly before.

I was sure she would visit before I fell asleep again. Absolutely sure. Somehow, I knew there was not much that could keep Twilight away. And, honestly, what else was there for her to do? Without me she would perish of boredom.

My mother rested her hand on my forehead again and sighed. “I’m sure the doctor will have an answer. You’re cold to the touch, dear.”

I shrugged best I could. “I feel much better, at least.”

She smiled at that, and then bid me sit up, which I did begrudgingly. When she informed me that she wanted me to change into a new gown and let her wash the old, I almost rebelled. But she was right, and with much effort I disrobed. My movements were stiff, and I felt strangely uncoordinated.

My mother accepted the garment and I shivered as I quickly donned the new one and returned to my safe haven beneath the covers. I laid on my side and winced.

She made to stand, but then paused.

"Are you alright?"

"It's nothing," I said quickly. The place where my neck had hit the pillow was sore to the touch, extremely so.

“Dear, what is this?”

“Hm? What is what?” I replied, distracted by the strange feeling as I traced it with two fingers.

“This,” she said, and showed me the collar of my gown.

There was a nasty stain on it, darkest red. Asymmetric and… crusty, to be frank. I recoiled in abject disgust. “My word, how…?”

“How indeed,” my mother said, as puzzled as I. “Did you hurt yourself? You would tell me if you had, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course!” I replied, my voice rising a bit in volume as the bewilderment settled in to stay. “I’m as perturbed as you are, Mother. Perhaps… perhaps I cut myself earlier. I was working on… no, I couldn’t have. I would have recalled such an amount of blood, and it's far too much for sticking myself with a needle.”

I offered a helpless shrug, and my mother pondered for a moment more.

“Tell me if you find out,” she said, voice low. “For now… get some rest. The doctor will be here in the morning.”

She bade me goodnight and left me to my devices. Which was to say, she left me to lie in bed and do nothing, for the light from the rising moon was not enough to read by at all.

The good humor that had so buoyed me as I read slipped away into the night as the hours passed. It rallied, briefly, when my sister came to read to me. I was feeling well enough at that time to half-rise from my bed and hug her goodnight, and this helped, but otherwise?

Well. Twilight did not visit, and this was hard to not to be bothered by. Was she sick? Had she grown tired of me? Did she stay away in fear that my weakness would infect her?

There were other possibilities but I did not think of them. Perhaps at that time I could not think of them. The blood on my collar, the vivid dreams that I no longer felt so sure were normal dreams, the weakness in my body… These things, separated, were like great towering towers in my imagination. Each was visible, tall, impossible to ignore. And yet they could not be linked. The more I tried to think on them, the more my head ached.

And yet, all that I had was time. Time to think.

Twilight Sparkle. I confessed, at least to myself, that I was fascinated by her. Far more fascinated, in fact, then should be normal in the amount of time we had known each other. I knew my own… proclivities, yes, but even for one such as I… You can imagine how I turned and turned, considering her and myself and how these two things might coincide in every way imaginable. Perhaps I even liked her, it’s true, and in more than a merely friendly way, but that was all vague and half-illusory. Perhaps I thought her beautiful on top of strange and fascinating, but again, it was ephemeral.

Somewhere in all of this pointless thinking, I dozed off.

I woke when a cool hand touched my forehead, and opened my eyes to find her.

Through half-lidded eyes, I saw her with a look of such concern that it melted my heart. Whatever afflicted her, I would needs put an end to it.

“Darling, you came,” I said.

She jumped. “Yes.”

Twilight did not look at me at first. She looked, in fact, at everything but me. But I continued on regardless. “I’m so glad. I was sad that you did not… and now here you are. I’m afraid that I’m not well enough to do much tonight.”

“That’s… that’s not why I came,” Twilight said slowly. She chewed on her lip for awhile, deep in thought, and I waited, not sure what could be on her mind. She seemed worried. “How are you feeling?”

“Well,” I told her. I paused, and then chuckled. “No, I’m not well. But I am doing better than I was. There’s no need to worry. I’ll be right as rain by tomorrow, wait and see.”

She hummed. “I’m sure you will,” Twilight said. “I’m sure you will. But perhaps we’ll take it slow, won’t we? Not too boisterous? You’ll… take care of yourself, right? Surely.”

I frowned at her. “Is something the matter?”

“Not at all.” Twilight smiled sweetly, yes, but falsely.

The thing about Twilight Sparkle was that her polish was more veneer than anything else. Oh yes, she was smart as smart could be, intelligence for days and all that, but the poise? Practiced. And not in the good way, practiced until it was second nature. Twilight’s poise was mostly a studied mask that she did not understand well enough by far.

So I could see something nervous in those eyes. Something more nervous, more worried, than a simple day sick in bed should have warranted. I felt, for a brief moment, that I was on to something. That if I opened my mouth and asked her about… about… it was on the tip of my tongue. About anything, maybe, and the truth would all spill out.

So instead, I patted the bed next to me. “Are you cold?”

She recoiled. No, flinched, for she caught herself. I still noticed, because now I was alert. That brief suspicion that had filled me during our initial meeting had returned, and with it rode my newfound affection. I would not push her. I knew she would tell me.

I didn’t know what she would tell me. Somehow I knew there was something to tell.

“Yes,” she said, and shivered. The poor dear look distressed.

“Come lie down,” I told her gently. “At least for awhile. You don’t have to stay if you don’t wish. You seem unwell. And I am doing much better. And…” I chuckled. “I could use your company, awake as I am.”

She nodded and slipped underneath the covers.

To say that I experienced deja vu was understatement. The bed moved slightly beneath her and my heart skipped at least two beats. All of a sudden, the dream came back to me and I was certain that my face was quite literally aflame. This was how it had begun, hadn’t it? Face to face, her back to the window, in the dead of night?

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Twilight asked, obviously having seen my reaction.

“Yes! Yes, of course,” I said quickly, trying very, very hard not to think about any of the things that had happened in that dream. Very, very hard. Especially not—

“If you’re sure,” Twilight said, but seemed hesitant to come any closer.

I wanted to ask her to move a bit closer, whether for her sake or mine I did not know. I sighed.

“Come here, already. No need for that nonsense,” I said.

I scooted forward just enough to lamely capture her with a single arm and pulled her closer. She—and I swear before the stars that this is true—made the absolutely most delightful little noise of alarm, which I very courteously elected not to notice.

“You… ah, you’ve grown more… forward?” Twilight said, and I giggled.

“More like…” I trailed off. And yes, of course I thought of that dream. But not as I had before. She was rather lovely, wasn’t she? “You seemed troubled,” I said instead. “Are you?”

She took a deep breath. “I… I’m fine.”

“If you say so.”

“I do,” she said, a little more firmly. “I’m more worried about you. Your mother and father are as well, you know.”

I huffed. “I’ll be fine! I’m fine now.”

“Liar.”

“It’s more or less true. A lady does not lie. She merely presents an alternate set of truths. Or something. I’m running out of those little aphorisms, you know.”

“Yes, I can tell.” Twilight sighed and hugged her arms around herself. I let my own arm fall back to my side, and thought.

Dream still in mind, I found I wanted to run my hand down her arm or touch her shoulder. Anything, really. But I didn’t. Dreams are dreams, after all. But the poor dear did seem unhappy, and…

And long story longer, I leaned over and put my face a bit closer to hers and ran a hand over her arm, up and down, in what I hoped was at least a slightly comforting manner. “I really am glad that you visited, even if it was a bit later than I’d expected. I would make some comment about being ‘fashionably late’ but I’m not sure you would even have arrived at the sort of thing one is fashionably late for.”

“Stake through the heart,” Twilight murmured, but she laughed. “I’ve many things on my mind. I’m sorry to bother you. I am glad that you have the energy to joke.”

There are moments when we make a decision without a conscious thought. Where, one moment, our whole disposition lay in a single direction, and before any change can be detected, one has done quite the opposite. I felt that I did not want to push her. I felt that these strongholds in my mind, the dreams and the blood on my collar, all of it, were not things I wanted to touch.

But touch them I did.

I hummed. “My mother is worried, you said? Perhaps it has something to do with the blood on my collar,” I said softly, just soft enough that a normal person might have leaned forward to hear me repeat it.

Twilight had been moving a pesky strand of hair from her eyes as I said it, but froze. Her hand stayed in front of her face, and I could not see her eyes. But, a second or so later, she continued on as normal.

“Blood, you say? Curious. Did you hurt yourself?”

“Not that I remember,” I answered.

You see, Twilight’s mask of poise, as I said before, was just that. A mask. It was a thing one could see the edges on quite easily. And now that I could see those edges, all at once, the whole mask seemed almost ridiculous. Well. Not all of it. Just the parts where Twilight Sparkle seemed invulnerable and aloof.

“Strange,” Twilight said, and I was not convinced.

“Yes, it is. Very strange. It’s been a very strange time recently, ever since you arrived. You know, I rarely remember my dreams?”

“Do you? I remember mine.” She seemed almost eager to talk, as if she might be able to drive me off into a new conversation. It was obvious and nakedly avoiding the great wordless thing between us that I think we were both beginning to feel. It was an almost magnetic attraction, after all, down into the answer. But I did not feel any annoyance with her diversion.

“I envy you. I always wished to remember mine. But you see, I have been. And they are very, very strange.” I licked my lips. Nervously? Probably. I felt the urge to rush, but I couldn’t. I needed to do this delicately. I needed to do it carefully. I continued with my hand, up and then down, from shoulder to elbow. I scooted closer. Lowered my voice. Took on the personage of a co-conspirator.

“Strange? You keep, ah, saying that.” Twilight did not look me in the eye. “How so?”

“Oh, I can’t say,” I said, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed. I hadn’t anticipated that she’d actually ask. Well played, Twilight. Well played.

“Unpleasant dreams?” she asked, frowning. “Nightmares?”

Because of course it did, my mind jumped to a particular moment of the second dream and looking Twilight in the eye became a bit difficult. “Definitely not unpleasant,” I murmured.

“Ah.” Raised eyebrows, but she didn’t ask anymore.

So I continued. “But I could say that you’ve been a visitor in them.”

“Me?” She smirked. “My, how—”

“I remember all of them, you know,” I said. My hand stopped on her shoulder.

Her smirk died. Quickly.

“Do you.” It was not a question.

“Yes. And if you leave this bed without an explanation I will try and come after you. I can’t threaten more than that, you see. I’m a bit indisposed. They aren’t dreams, are they?”

Have you ever seen a panicked, frightened animal? Seen it turn its head, side to side perhaps, eyes wild and wandering, mouth half open in alarm, body stiff and jerking as it looks for some safe haven?

That was what I saw in Twilight’s face. Panic.

I tightened my grip on her shoulder. “Just speak,” I said, almost hissed. “Just speak. If you do not tell me this instant what you’ve done, I will be more than merely cross, Twilight Sparkle.”

“I—”

I tightened my grip further. “Did you do something to my memories?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice sounding strangled.

I released her. “Did you…”

“I’m sorry!” Twilight was close now, right in my face, filling up most of my vision. “I’m sorry, I tried to keep you from knowing! Or being hurt, or… or… but I…”

She was panting. Breathing hard, far too hard, like a runner at the end of his race.

“You said I could,” she said weakly.

“Was I lucid?” Because how could I know, really, at this juncture?

“Yes,” she said. “Please believe me. I always… I…”

I had gone from warm and happy to furious, and now my anger wilted.

She looked… miserable. Genuinely miserable. Could such a creature cry? And there it was, creature. It felt loathesome to even think of her in such a way. Cold and unfeeling.

I took a deep breath. Twilight, on the other hand, seemed like at any moment she might hyperventilate or fly off into the night. Or both, honestly.

“Twilight?”

She recoiled, and I will admit that seeing her do so stung. But had she not injured me first? I felt a bit frustrated, but I kept my voice even. “Twilight, calm down. Can you calm down, darling? Just for a moment. Breathe, will you? In and out. Yes, like that.”

Comforting her came surprisingly easy, but it had never been said that I was not generous. After a moment, her breathing had calmed, but her eyes had not lost their worry.

She… well. She still looked lovely. She still seemed to be Twilight Sparkle, the strange girl who’d been deposited on our doorstep, as it were.

“I’d like to see something. Don’t worry too much. Just… say still,” I said.

Before she could ask what it was I wanted, I cupped her chin and used my thumb to pull her bottom lip down.

It was as part of me, some part of me far below the surface that knew more than it ever should, had suspected. Canines that were far too tall, far too sharp, far too thick. Just seeing them made me wince. Behind them, I saw others, sharper than was natural.

“Stars,” I whispered, and let her lip go. She looked away. “So it’s true. I…”

She didn’t say anything. Not that there was anything to say.

Absurdity is the juxtaposition of disparate things in nonsensical relation. Just the teeth alone, sharp and made for tearing, and she could kill me. I had never thought this of anything, you see. Never had I looked at anything and thought—this, this could kill me in a moment if it wished—and now I thought it rather loudly, and yet I did not feel a further thrill of fear.

She seemed more afraid of me than I was of her. Here I was, a cowering monster of legend in my bed, and I was… what, scolding it? It was like imagining a child scolding the Spirit of Discord itself. Ridiculous, and yet here we were.

“Is your name truly Twilight?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yes. Twilight Sparkle. I really am… I really was a student of Celestia. I left on my sabbatical six months ago. Bartleby Beetle isn’t my uncle. I… He was just a trader I met on the way. I used my glamour to gain safe passage.”

“And somewhere between then and now…” I trailed off. She nodded. “How?”

She shuddered and closed her eyes. “His name was… It’s not important. I don’t want to talk about it. It was about Celestia. Please don’t make me.”

I didn’t think first. I reached out and stroked her cheek. “I won’t. You don’t have to tell me. And then you came here. Why?”

“I didn’t want to hurt Bartleby, and I couldn’t keep living off of him. I was drinking from his… from his wrist,” she said, and shivered again. “But he was getting tired. He’s old. And then… I saw you.”

I nodded. I didn’t ask any of the questions I could have, that I wanted to.

So, instead, I continued to stroke her cheek, and some of the tension ebbed. She nuzzled my hand, and it felt strangely familiar. “You’ve not panicked much,” Twilight mentioned at last.

“No. I was angry. But now, seeing you… Well, perhaps these are crocodile tears. I won’t deny that. But I suppose that if they are, you’ve worked a bit too hard for a woman who can’t quite escape you. Roll over, would you?”

She blinked at me. “W-what?”

“Roll over.”

“I… Fine, then,” she said.

I scooted up, until I fit behind her. Twilight stiffened, but didn’t object. Which I suppose she probably couldn’t. Twilight probably owed me. No, not probably. Definitely. And it was comfortable.

And, more importantly, she wasn’t looking me in the eye, and I wasn’t looking her in the eye. No more glowing eyes, no more panicked looks.

“I’m not sure what you’re doing,” Twilight said.

“Neither am I,” I admitted. “I have no idea how to process this, there is a small chance that I am in shock of some sort or another, and I should probably be terrified. I’ll fret about it properly in the morning. So, you’d thought I was still under spell then?”

She nodded.

There was a part of me, that part which is never aware when its impulses are poorly timed, which wanted to kiss the spot where her neck met her shoulders. “Are you going to leave, then? Now that I know, and all.”

“I… I don’t know. No one has found me out before now, so I don’t really have a protocol in place.”

“Protocol?” I chuckled and nuzzled against her shoulder. “That is exactly how you’d say that.”

“Do you want me to go?” she asked. “I will, if you want me to. I can mostly alter your parent’s memories, and your sister’s as well, I suppose. I would never have been here. You will recover.”

“So I’m ill because of you. I mean, I had suspected…”

“Yes. I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” I asked. I snaked an arm around her waist and enjoyed the added warmth.

“Sometimes, when I… when I feed, I guess you could say. That’s accurate. Feed. But when I do, sometimes I find myself unable to stop. It’s so hard. I get lost in it, and… and it’s especially hard when I’m already excited, and…”

I think we were both trying to conceal just how embarrassed we were trying not to fill in that blank.

“Right,” I said.

“Yes. Of course.”

Another beat.

“So, if I’m getting you right—”

Twilight groaned. “Celestia kill me. Yes. Because I was… was… Ugh.”

“I’m not sure whether I’m more mortified to be discussing this, or intrigued, or amused.” I smiled. “You’re shy now, but you weren’t before.” And, again before I could think better of it: “I rather liked it.”

She squirmed. “I’m… not quite myself when I’m thirsty. I’m more me? Less me? I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

“Or, if I might be so bold, it seems that you might be experiencing the rather normal madness that comes with desire, hm? I am quite a prize, if I say so myself. Which I do. I say that.”

She chuckled. “I wouldn’t know.”

“What? You wouldn’t know? I distinctly remember you and I enjoying—”

She turned her head so that she could see me out of the corner of her eye. “No! I enjoyed… I mean you were…” She turned back and groaned again. “I meant, I’m not exactly…”

“Ah.” I reached up and began playing with her hair, glad to have something to toy with as I thought. “So. First?”

“Essentially.”

“But not the first you’ve drunk from, correct?”

“No. I had to survive.”

I nodded. “How much do you need?”

“It’s hard to say. I know when I’m fine for a week. I… I can last about a week.”

I nodded absently. “We’ll just have to be more careful, won’t we?”

She turned almost violently to face me, something almost indignant in her face. “Rarity, you’re—”

“Going to be fine, I think,” I said. “You’re staying here, and you will need some to survive, will you not? I’ll not have you drinking from my sister, and after our activities together I can’t imagine you’d settle for my parents. So you’ll have me, won’t you? I think you would regardless, wouldn’t you?”

She bit her lip—there were the fangs. I shivered a little, seeing them. “I... “

“That’s a yes then.” I smiled, feeling a small thrill of power as she nodded. “What did you like? Hm? What brings you back?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is it thirst that brought you to my bed, or something else? You’re here now. I might as well know.”

Twilight was silent for awhile. I was alright with that. I knew she would say it had been nothing but lust, and I prepared myself. It wasn’t as if my feelings were strong, obviously. But it would be a bit—

“They’re hard to separate,” she said at last. “I… I liked being with you.”

I nodded again, and this time I did kiss the crook of her neck. “I can accept that. And you’ll stay? Promise me that you’ll stay.”

I kissed up her neck, slowly, waiting for her to answer.

“I will.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t been aware that I’d been holding on to. “Good,” I murmured against her cheek, and then I kissed her right on the lips.

And you know, it was strange to feel them. Fangs. Right there, right beneath her lips. It was strange to know they were there and that Twilight could choose to use them at any moment, and yet did not. Eyes closed, leaning into her timid kiss as it grew not so timid, I could see her mouth open as she prepared to—

I shivered. Twilight tried to pull away but I clung tighter. Just the thought of it set me aflame.

Author's Note