The Trials of Shmarity: an Ogres and Oubliettes Story

by TheMessenger


1. The First Rule

1. The First Rule

This was not her bed.

It was an unsettling realization that struck Rarity before her eyes had even begun their struggle to flutter open. Much of her body was still under the spell of sleep, and the only sense available to her that was not undermined by weary reluctance was touch, but it was all Rarity needed to know that something was, well, off. The mattress beneath her was too stiff, too hard against her soft, sensitive body. The cushion her head rested upon lacked the depth and fluff she usually required when it came to pillows. And the coarse comforter that lain over her couldn’t possibly be mistaken for the custom silk linen she had ordered and painstakingly prepared for the purpose of providing the maximum level of stylish comfort without having to sacrifice warmth, and also this one itched terribly.

To Rarity, it was clear as polished crystal; this was not her bed.

Given that she hadn’t yet fully broken sleep’s seductive embrace, it took Rarity a few moments before she could grasp the severity of her deduction, and along with that understanding came a rather healthy dose of shock. Her eyes flew open, disregarding the heavy weight of dreariness still upon them, and Rarity’s panic grew further as she took in the dark, dusty stone walls around her. The scratchy blanket was flung into the air as Rarity tumbled out of the small cot she had found herself in and onto the cold, dirty floor. Dust clung to the ugly, blindly pink, and overly puffy dress that had replaced her silk nightgown.

“What in, how, where,” was all she could muster as she struggled back onto her hooves, confusion and shock keeping her from vocalizing a coherent thought. In an effort to steady herself and calm her fraying nerves, Rarity took in a deep breath only to collapse into a fit of coughs from how stale and dusty the air was in the room.

“Quiet down in there, prisoner!” came a loud, gruff snarl from the other side of the metal door through a small barred opening, the only opening in the entire room.

“P-prisoner?” Rarity repeated. Slowly, she made her way to the door and tried to squint past the rusty bars to spot the source of the growl. By the light of a dimly lit torch on the opposite wall, she could barely make out the silhouetted figure of a pony like herself. “There must be some mistake. I haven’t—“

“I said quiet!” the being on the other side shouted, punctuating the demand with a strike against the bars. Rarity’s ears flattened against her head as the piercing sound of metal on metal rang through the room. There was an annoyed huff followed by the clatter of hooves against stone that slowly grew quieter and more distant with each subsequent step.

“Rude,” muttered Rarity, and with a huff of her own, she returned to the bed that did not belong to her. With her head back against the sorry excuse for a pillow, her nose wrinkling at the sour scent of hay, Rarity closed her eyes and started to count. When she reached one hundred, she opened her eyes and looked around.

“Still here,” she said with a sigh as she sat back up. “Well, I suppose we can rule out this all just being a bad dream.”

But then, what other possible explanation did that leave her? As Rarity removed herself from the cot once more, she ran through what she could recall of the previous evening. She, Princess Twilight Sparkle, and the rest of their close friends and fellow saviors of Equestria had just returned home from yet another grueling friendship mission, this time in the coldest regions of Yakyakistan to deal with the most stubborn of yaks. After saying her goodbyes for the evening, Rarity remembered going straight home for a light supper consisting of little more than a small salad and some fruit followed by a thoroughly extensive shower before turning in early for the night. In her own bed and in her own bedroom, that she was sure of. There was nothing in her recollection that would have warranted her lawful imprisonment, and even if she had somehow become victim to some suddenly draconian legal system, Rarity was certain she would have remembered being taken away and locked up and being forced into this abomination of a dress.

A spell then perhaps, some new magical experiment that either Twilight or Starlight Glimmer or possibly the both of them together were so eager to test out that they couldn’t wait until morning. It wouldn’t be the first time Rarity woke up to find herself in some strange situation due to the insatiable curiosity of powerful magicians, though being trapped in some dank prison without reason was arguably mundane compared to, say, having your Cutie Mark and destiny swapped with another pony.

Discord was always a potential suspect, what with his nigh omnipotence and odd senses of humor and morality, but again, this felt too simple, too plain to be one of the draconequus’s pranks. The walls weren’t made of cheese, the dress she wore wasn’t screaming obscenities at her, and gravity was definitely still a thing, so any blame Rarity could direct toward Discord seemed misplaced.

Was this the work of some new threat to Equestria then, an attempt to capture, contain, and separate the land’s champions to prevent them from foiling whatever diabolical schemes the villain had in mind? Would her friends also awaken to find themselves imprisoned and in kitschy outfits just as she had?

A loud thud interrupted Rarity’s musings and redirected her attention to the door just as a small section near the bottom of the door slid open. A small tray with bowl and a plate with what appeared to be a sizable rock on it was squeezed through the opening and dropped to the floor before the section slammed shut.

Rarity stared at the tray with a look of disgust. The bowl was brown with rust and filled with some thin, green broth, some of which had splashed out onto the tray, and there was a distinct lack of utensils or napkins. The stone on the plate was revealed after further investigation to simply be a chunk from a very old and very crusty bread loaf. What little appetite she had faded at the sight of the unappealing affair before her.

“Excuse me,” Rarity called out as she marched toward the prison’s door. The initial surprise she had experienced was quickly being replaced with forced indignation as she prepared herself to escape. “Is this supposed to be breakfast? What even is this? I understand you’re not running a three-hoof establishment, but really, this is completely unacceptable. And don’t even get me started on these living conditions. This isn’t my first time as a prisoner, I’ll have you know, but this has certainly been the worst experience so far. Even those dastardly diamond dogs knew how to treat a lady when properly prompted. Who’s in charge here? I demand to speak with your supervisor, and rest assured, I have several choice words for—“

A loud slam silenced Rarity who could only stare wordlessly with her mouth agape at the equine skull pressed against the bars. The empty sockets it used to glare at her seemed to emit a dull, eerie glow. The skeletal jaw lowered, and from the open maw it let out a hiss and a chilling steam that sent a shiver down Rarity’s spine as the temperature of the entire room seemed to have drastically lowered. Then, just as suddenly as the skull appeared, a large furry paw shoved the pony skeleton aside, and in its place was the face of a clearly disgruntled diamond dog.

The scruffy mongrel regarded Rarity with a look of distain and irritation. “What prisoner want?” he growled, drool dripping from his jowls that shook with each word he spoke.

It took a moment for Rarity to recover and her voice. “I-I’d like a-a spoon, please,” she stammered, the rest of her planned complaints having died in the presence of the autonomous skeleton.

The diamond dog grunted and vanished, leaving Rarity in isolated suspense for several long seconds before reappearing to toss a spoon crudely carved out of wood through the bars and onto the floor. Then, without another word, the dog left her view.

Rarity, her heartbeat slowing to its usual rhythm as she began to calmed down, returned her gaze to the provided meal. Regardless of how she felt about its presentation, she would have to eat eventually, especially if she wanted to be in any condition to escape. However just the very thought of her lips even touching the contents in the bowl, let alone allowing it passage through her mouth and down her throat, made her mouth run dry and her stomach churn. How much longer could she delay and ignore her carnal need for sustenance, before the hunger became unbearable? An hour? Two hours?

No, better to get it done and over with sooner rather than later, Rarity decided with a sigh. She turned to the wooden spoon and directed her magical grasp toward it as she mentally prepared herself for breakfast.

The spoon refused to move.

Rarity stared at the stationary wooden utensil with rapidly widening eyes. The initial shock subsided, and she tried again, focusing her magic through her horn like all little unicorns were taught. The spoon remained motionless, and there was an absence of slight tingling she normally felt when calling upon her innate unicorn magic.

Her panic surged when she brought her hoof to the top of her head and felt only the fur of her forehead beneath the curls of her mane. Frantically, Rarity looked around her prison cell, searching until her gaze settled on the bowl. She rushed forward and looked down into the green fluid the bowl held, and what she saw confirmed what her hoof had suggested.

Rarity’s reflection stared back at her through the broth, recognizable even with the murky green tint of the makeshift mirror. There was just one odd detail, something that made her question whether the mare in the soup was truly her, that being the utter lack of a horn.

Rarity’s chest tightened, her breathing quickened. Her head suddenly became light, and the room began to spin. As she started to sway, something hard bounced against her chest, distracting her momentarily from the impending fainting spell and causing her to look back down into the reflective surface of the green broth.

A small glint caught her attention, drawing it to the small chain around her neck she had failed to notice before. It was a necklace, Rarity came to realize as she lifted the strange symbol connecting the ends of the chain, the object that had gotten her attention in the first place. The symbol was of plain silver, nothing too special or overly expensive, and its shape reminded her a bit of a snowflake, with jagged arrows branching out of a center in every direction. This gaudy little trinket certainly hadn’t been part of her collection, and even if it had been, Rarity never went to bed with jewelry on. It must have been put on her along with the dress during or following her capture, Rarity deduced.

It was another mystery to add onto her growing pile of mysteries, one that was certainly less pressing than where was her horn or why she was being held in this cell but equally as perplexing. The symbol was not one she recognized or could even hazard a guess to its meaning, if it even had a meaning. Perhaps it meant something to the villains that had imprisoned her, maybe even a hint to their identity. Or could it be magical, another powerful arcane artifact with ruinous potential? Was this responsible for the disappearance of her horn?

Rarity carefully held the symbol up to what light seeped the bars of the door, rotating it as she looked for any additional markings or runes, anything that could be a clue. The silver gleamed in the light almost as if the metal itself was aglow, and for a mesmerizing moment all Rarity could do was stare as cell around her seemed to blur and fade.

A sudden knock at the door took her attention from the pendant. The room became still once more, and Rarity instinctive shoved the silver symbol down the dress she wore, hiding it just in time for the cell’s door to creak open. The possibility of a rescue lit a spark of hope within her, a spark that was swiftly snuffed out as out of the light stepped in a hulking diamond dog and an animated pony skeleton, both armed with spears and donning rusty helmets and chain mail shirts, shuffled in.

The sight of another pony like herself only without fur, skin, and tissue again left Rarity without breath, and in her efforts to keep herself from fainting in the proximity with such a being, Rarity failed to notice the third intruder that had entered after until they cleared their throat loudly.

“It’s time,” the large equine figure announced in a low gravelly voice. The black helmet they wore that obscured their features muffled the equine’s words slightly, giving them an unsettling echo. The rest of the figure’s body which rivaled the diamond dog in size was covered in plate armor, black and spotless like their helmet, a far contrast in quality to what the others wore. Spikes protruded from the massive shoulder pads, and a collar with bright red runes was around the being’s neck. “The Squid Wizard will see you now.”

“The, the Squid Wizard?” Rarity repeated, the absurdity of the phrase compounding her confusion. “I’m sorry, I must have heard you, hey!” She slapped at the paws of the diamond dog that reached out toward her. “I will not be touched, not by such filthy appendages and certainly not without my—“

The bony structure took a step toward her. It hissed, and like before, a chilling mist flowed through its open mouth. The air around her grew cold, and she felt a shiver play against her spine. “—permission,” Rarity finished with a nervous swallow. She tried to move back but only managed a single step before finding herself against the wall.

With a grumble, the diamond dog pushed the skeleton to the side and slammed a set of shackles around her front knees. A second set were applied to her back legs, and any protest Rarity had was reconsidered under the eyeless gaze of the skeleton guard.

“Prisoner secure,” the large dog barked, giving the chains of the shackles a tug. Rarity yelped out as she was suddenly pulled forward, tripping over herself. Ignoring the diamond dog’s snickers, Rarity attempted to stand, a normally simple task that was made nearly impossible by the bindings around her legs. She looked up to see the armored pony now looming over her. A few seconds passed as they watched Rarity struggled for a few seconds before they released an impatient huff and reach out. Taking hold of Rarity’s shoulders, the pony in black armor forced her up onto her hooves.

“Th-thank you,” said Rarity, wincing as the metal gauntlets dug into her. She look into the thin slits of the helmet, and there, past all the shadows, she caught the glimpse of the guard’s eyes. It less than a peek, just a gleam of green and white, but it was still a sight of another pony’s features, something she recognized, something familiar and safe.

The moment shattered when the pony in black armor turned away and started toward the cell’s exit. They tilted their head back slight and issued a single, simple command:

“Move.”

No one questioned the order, not the diamond dog nor the skeletal pony. And certainly not Rarity.