//------------------------------// // Possesion (Demon AU/ Human / T-Rated / Incomplete) // Story: Chrome's Scrap Folder // by Monochromatic //------------------------------// It was possession. For months and months, book after book, Twilight had poured herself into researching the creature who had left marks on her body, who tainted her dreams, who consumed her every second. For every morning she woke up tucked into bed, looking like nothing had happened save for the opened window, the mark on her neck and… and the burning sensation all over her body. And then, one night, months ago, the visits had stopped. Twilight should have been relieved, but instead… she found herself bothered by the fact, abandoned almost, rejected. She found herself missing the torrid dreams, and this same odd longing had led her to her confide in her best friend, and like the sheep confiding in the disguised wolf, she had sealed her fate. Twilight’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on the closed window on the wall. A chill ran down her body, an effect of the covers lying on the floor, as they had for the months she'd had no visitors. Months ago, she’d have been surprised by the mess; would have wondered why didn’t the creature visit her; would have waited up all night, wondering if she’d woken up just in time to… But that wasn’t necessary, anymore. Not when it was she herself who’d be knocking on hell’s door. She sat up, and with a mere gesture, the candelabra placed on the bed table lit up, dimly illuminating the room. There was silence all around, as though the castle itself waited with bated breath for the next act in the grim fairytale Twilight had inadvertently found herself in. Through the window, she could see the single lit room on the other side of the castle, silently telling her that she was being expected, and wasn’t it terribly rude to keep a princess waiting? Pushing the covers away, she swung her legs over the bed, until her feet touched the cold floor and reminded her that was no dream or nightmare. She stood up, taking the candelabra in her hand and walked towards the door, forgetting — or perhaps not bothering — to put on slippers nor a robe over her nightgown. She brushed her fingertips against the doorknob, twisting it and then pushing on the door, surprised to find herself quite alone. It wasn’t until she stepped into the lit hallway that she realized it wasn’t so much that she was alone, but more that she was the lone soul to still be awake. Slouched against the wall, two guards snored the night away, a box of chocolates lying next to them. The purple bow betrayed the sender, and Twilight idly wondered just how many sleeping drops had the chocolates been laced with to put two burly guards to sleep. She closed the door and went on her way, walking into the dark hallways until the distant snores faded away and only the pounding of her heart was left. She made her way through the darkness, through the corridors of the castle that was not her home, but her prison, leading her to the waiting embrace of the secret it had hidden for twenty-five years. She walked and walked, past more guards sleeping next to boxes of chocolate, past locked rooms of servants, guests and people who were so blissfully unaware of what Twilight had uncovered. She didn’t feel quite like herself; it was like someone else was making their way towards the east tower chambers, and Twilight herself was still lying in bed, simply picturing it in her mind, simply imagining how it would go, how it would be. After what felt like endless minutes, she stepped into the main east corridor. It was a very large hallway, decorated with tables as old as the castle, and portraits of the many princesses and princes who’d once roamed the very same halls. They seemed to be looking right at Twilight, almost welcoming her into the private entourage who shared a secret. You know, they seemed to say with naught but a stare, and Twilight couldn’t help but feel like she’d always known. Maybe that’s why it got so far. She looked away from the portraits and towards the end of the corridor. A single window decorated the back wall, and like all the others, it was closed. Nevertheless, the curtains were not drawn out, and it was thanks to the moonlight filtering in that Twilight noticed a book lying in the middle of the corridor. She walked towards the book, gesturing to it with her hand so that it would levitate into the air, waiting in place until her hand reached it. Another gesture and the candelabra floated in place, allowing her to take a look at the book. Research of Night Creatures. Now, with the book in her possession, Twilight didn’t feel surprised at all. She didn’t feel surprised she’d finally found the book that’d been missing for months, and if anything, she only felt a vague desire for the satisfaction of knowing she’d been right. She noticed a purple bookmark had been left inside. In a curiously insolent gesture, she ignored it and instead slowly, lazily almost, leafed through the book, taking a moment to admire the drawings and the familiar handwriting. It was common knowledge that almost every book had been written by Queen Celestia herself, for no one but her and her sister had lived for more than a thousand years. Eventually, she reached the page with the bookmark, the section speaking in detail of a fabled vampire-like creature who seduced women and men alike, turning them into her plaything until she grew bored or until they could no longer serve her as she desired. There was an illustration of one of these creatures, and Twilight felt her breath slow down. The… woman in the drawing sat on the edge of a bed, wearing nothing but a nightgown stained with red splotches. On her lap, a deathly pale woman rested her head, blood trickling down her mouth and her neck. Her expression looked vacant, resigned almost, while the demoness… the demoness simply smiled, stroking her victim’s hair. Was that her fate? Twilight wondered, taking another deep breath. But the more she looked at the illustration, the more wrong it felt. There was no resignation when she woke up in the mornings, no vacant expression. There was only the memory of having been taken care of, of having been wanted, of having been given everything in exchange for everything. The only thing that made her feel vacant was the fact that, until now, she had never known who it was. She turned the page, and with surprise found herself looking at the drawing of familiar young girl, of probably no more than ten years at the time. The Princess of Equestria was sitting on a chair, her hands folded on her lap, her long purple hair tied up, and her eyes staring back at Twilight, looking right into her soul. There was a very slight scowl present on the girl’s face, probably a mild annoyance at having to pose for portrait. She looked normal. Perhaps that was what made Rarity truly frightening. She looked like a perfectly ordinary little girl, a perfectly ordinary human, unlike the demoness from the page before. Below the illustration, the text spoke of a young infant that had been found in the forest, and how Celestia had refused to abandon it or slay it. It spoke of how the Queen had held hope that the demon would grow up to be human if raised as one, if never told of her true origins. As the words flowed, the text became more like diary entries, research logs on the life of Equestria’s secret. It talked about how the baby became a perfectly ordinary girl with a slight temper and slightly self-centered attitude, yet was also blessed with exceeding love for assisting and giving to others. It was heartwarming to see Celestia’s own view on the creature change, from a poor thing to be taken care of, to a daughter to be loved and raised. She turned to the page, and so did the life of the princess turn from childhood to puberty. Twilight read of the Queen’s concerns, of how Rarity’s growing attraction to other people could awaken her primal instincts. A magic necklace had been made for the princess, given to her as nothing more than a simple gift, but intended to suppress her true nature. Twilight knew this necklace well, and she only just realized that Rarity always seemed to be clutching it whenever they spoke. The text went on and on, and now the Queen spoke of her new student. A young, shy, studious girl which she hoped would befriend the princess and keep her away from boys and temptations. Twilight would have snorted had she not been so transfixed. It spoke of how the princess expressed interest in the student, and Twilight herself remembered those first few days. She remembered how intensely Rarity looked at her, how eager to tour her around the castle, how it was supposedly just a twenty-one year old wanting to help a shy eighteen year old. Except… Except then the tone changed. It became frightened while it spoke of an incident. Apparently, the Queen’s plans had failed, and the princess… no, the demon had entered the chambers of her student in the middle of the night and would have attacked her had Celestia not intervened. Suddenly, almost four years later, Twilight understood. It had been during her fourth week at the castle. A night like any other, where she’d been lying in bed, trying and failing to fall asleep. At first, she had blamed it on insomnia. Later, she had blamed it on the creeping feeling that she was not alone. She remembered it so vividly, the prickling sensation in her neck that something, someone was standing behind her. She remembered the fear she felt when she could have sworn the weight on her mattress shifted, and she could still remember feeling her unicorn plush toy falling from the bed — or rather, being taken from the bed. She would have turned around, but instead, she heard Queen Celestia outside, knocking on the door, and by the time Twilight turned to look, there was nothing there. She remembered the Queen barging in, quickly ushering her out, saying how a spell had gone terribly wrong and it was imperative she moved to a safer room for the night. Security had been breached, she claimed, and Twilight hadn’t been able to mention what she’d felt, or the fact that she thought she saw something under the bed. It wasn’t even a few days later that Princess Rarity was sent away for two years to study abroad, and it wasn’t even a day later that Twilight returned to her room, only to find her doll was nowhere to be found. Two years later, when Rarity came back, it was like she’d changed. Before, she had always been so close, but now she kept her distance, particularly from Twilight. Or she had, in the beginning, until they grew closer and closer, until Twilight realized just how near Rarity always sat, just how softly she always spoke, just how… A breeze. Twilight was pulled out from her thoughts, realizing she could feel a breeze brushing against her face, like the wind. She looked up, and her breathing hitched. The window at the end of the corridor was wide open now, and on the table below it, Twilight saw the unicorn plush that had, it seemed, been stolen four years ago. She walked towards the table, setting the book down and instead taking the plush. It was in pristine condition, and the fur felt soft under Twilight's fingers, the scent of a familiar perfume wafting from it. She looked to the corridor on the right, and at the very end, a faint light shone out from the only open door. Her door. She made her way towards it, forgetting all about the book and everything else, really. It felt like her mind had gone completely blank, like once more it was some external force moving her body while she only thought of Rarity — not of what she’d say to her, of what she’d think when she saw her, but just of her. Twilight finally reached her target, crossing the threshold between reality and insanity as she stepped through the door and into Rarity’s chamber, her rationale slipping through her mind just like the plush doll slipped past her fingers and landed on the floor. Staring in front of her, Twilight finally understood the true meaning of being bewitched. Out of all the times Twilight had been in Rarity’s room, the one thing that had always stuck out to her was the window. It was large, very large, enough for the moonlight to gently light up the room. The windowsill, as well, was wide enough one could comfortably sit on, and in fact, Twilight had done so countless times before. She’d always found it a rather pretty sight, but it wasn’t until then that she found it breathtaking. Rarity was lying on the windowsill, her back rested against the wall, her gaze directed towards the outside. Rather than wearing one of those long white nightgowns Twilight had once seen her in, she was wearing a short purple one, her long slender legs uncovered for all to see. One of her arms rested on her stomach, while the other idly played with the necklace hanging from her neck. Her long purple hair, which was usually tied up in a ponytail, was let down, cascading down her face and shielding her from Twilight. The moonlight shone over her, the shadows accentuating all her features and assets, as if its only purpose was to pay tribute to the creature of the night. “Honestly, part of me always waited impatiently for you to figure it out,” Rarity said nonchalantly, as though she were speaking of a trivial affair like the weather. “It was quite maddening.” "Did you always know?" The question left Twilight's lips unbidden, an aftermath of her now burning curiosity. "Did I always know my true nature? No, I did not," Rarity replied at length, still staring out the window. "I could feel it sometimes that something wasn't quite right about me. Some of the court boys and even the daughters of some dukes during my teen years… Well, they certainly drew quite indecent thoughts out of me, but I thought that was normal of every human being. Of course, then you came along, and my, things became quite..." She finally turned to Twilight and smiled. "Quite unnatural." "Does anyone else know?" "Only my mother and Aunt Luna, besides you, darling." "And can you stop the transformation?" Rarity laughed. "You say that as though you expect me to turn into a she-demon. It's not something I can 'turn' or 'transform' into, Twilight. You wouldn't expect a human not to be a human, would you?" Upon finishing the statement, she returned her gaze to the window. "I can control them, mind. Perhaps that was mother's influence, as well as the influence of being raised a human. My kind… My kind usually cares little about the life of its victims, but I can hardly claim the same for myself." "Is that why you stopped visiting me?" "It sounds so dreadfully cliché, doesn't it, to claim the wolf fell in love with the sheep," Rarity said, closing her eyes and resting her head against the windowsill. "I wasn't sure at first what was it about you that so completely captivated me. I thought perhaps it was your own magic capabilities drawing me; the idea that you're powerful enough to withstand my own demonic magic? I suppose it's no wonder I was drawn to your room each night, where I could simply get lost in you — and quite literally, at that," she added with a giggle that drew a flush on Twilight's cheeks. "But then… Then we'd have breakfast the next day, and you wouldn't really remember," Rarity continued, her voice losing its teasing aspect. "What was real for me was nothing but a dream to you, something you allowed but didn't really wish for." There was a strain in her voice, as though it was difficult for her keep talking. "It wasn't just that I needed you, or wanted you. I also wanted you to want me as badly as I did, on your terms, and though it would be the same as starving myself, I simply couldn't go through with what I did every night — so I stopped."