The hoofteps sounded like they were right behind me, and I decided that the chance of them being helpful were far to low for my taste. I panicked and made a snap decision. Left it was. I took off running, full tilt down a dimly lit hallway. The lanterns were spaced out quite a bit, so it wasn't so surprising when I nearly fell down a flight of stairs that I swear wasn't there a second before. I had to improvise at the last moment and ended up just jumping, flying over the entire staircase. Thankfully, they were short, so the impact wasn't as bad as it could have been. When I finally skidded to a halt at the bottom of the stairs I paused, completely still, listening for any sounds of the pursuer. None could be heard, but maybe they had just decided to be quiet. Either way, no reason for me to just stand here, so I turned and tried to continue running. The adrenaline still coursing through my system made me a bit wobbly, but I had expected that.
Funny thing, adrenaline. No matter how many times it gets you, every time is new. The trembling legs, the hyperactive mind, the nervous, twitchy vision. Every action becomes a reaction, and every sound becomes your worst nightmare, coming to eat you. You expect the worst at every moment, and every moment it doesn't come you get even more nervous. The shadows are wretched, the light is the harbinger of every evil thing to find you, expose you, make you tremble with fear. I can't count the times that I had felt true adrenaline, but I knew it was few. As I stood, my hooves were quaking something awesome, and I couldn't get my ears to sit still.
I finally regained enough of my motor skills to continue down the desolate hallway at my previous pace. It was much like the rest, with it's slick floors and numbingly plain walls. The corridor was thankfully straight, as I wasn't so sure how well I could handle a corner right now. I don't know why, but sometime during my leap of fate, my mind decided I was in a total crisis, releasing all the adrenaline on tap. After nearly a minute of a dead sprint, I reached a turn. Perfectly ninety degrees to the right. I hit it at nearly full speed, fairly bouncing off the opposite wall, bruising my side nicely, but I didn't care. My wife could be down here, leaving no room for me to whine about bruises.
Ahead, a sudden change in the lighting made me skid to a halt. I couldn't put a hoof on it, but something about the hallway ahead scared me. The light from one of the lanterns was a bit dimmer than the others. I wondered why this would alarm me, so of course I stared at it, mentally demanding it reveal it's secrets. It took longer than I had hoped, but after a few hard seconds of vicious deliberation, I found it. The lamp was just as bright as the rest. The candle inside was tall and thick, and the wick was bright. So why less light?
More intense staring, but this time it was easy: The lampshade was tilted just ever so barely up. Just enough to shield part of the floor from it's grace. I turned my gaze back to the darkened floor, looking for what I wasn't supposed to see. It wasn't too hard, which I found a bit insulting. I suppose years of squinting at a canvas had sharpened my eye for detail, but isn't a pressure plate supposed to be the same color as the wood around it? It was a decent job, but sloppy in placement. There was easily room on either side for a pony to cross, if he was careful. Of course I was, but it still can't shake those little thoughts of falling, tripping and getting blown up, set on fire, impaled, whatever would happen to the poor sod who wasn't as perceptive.
As soon as I reached the other side of the bad booby trap, I set off again, at a far more cautious pace, of course. I didn't have far to go when I found something I had been looking for.
A door.
It wasn't much, but somehow I knew that behind it was exactly what I wanted. It had that kind of feel to it; when a pony is so full of his own hubris that he demands only the best will do for his precious treasures. It was large, obviously thick, and studded with only the finest iron. A smooth ring was set in one side, for the door to be opened and reveal it's prize inside. Of course I ignored this and just grabbed the door in pinkish white magic, which reminded me of my wife, so I might have yanked a bit harder than absolutely necessary. I carefully stepped over the splintered remains into what was surely the ugliest room I had ever had the fortune of seeing. Large, wide, filled with shiny bits and pieces, and far too well lit for my tastes, but that's not what I was looking at.
There she was.
"Maybelline!"
I saw her head turn towards me, and her lips moved, but no sound reached me. Her hooves were all strapped down, flat against the table she was reclined on. Her usually flowing and gracious pink mane was knotted and coarse. Her glorious white coat was matted and dirty. I felt an insurmountable rage boiling inside me, a crude and animalistic force. I held it down for the moment, though. No interloper had yet shown his grimy face. It was not yet time. All I wanted was to rush to the aid of my clearly sickly wife, but I still had one last booby trap to spring. I stood where I was on the edge of the room, waiting.
Thankfully, I didn't have to wait long. Clanking hoofsteps, slow and steady, from somewhere above. I looked up, and noticed for the first time the extremely high ceiling, and the metal catwalk above. He was a handsome unicorn, ever so suave and debonair. A steel grey coat, a slick black mane, silver spectacles, an elegant, polished horn, and a red bow tie around his neck. I hated him instantly, of course. "I must admit, I was not fully expecting you to come here," he purred.
"Oh, really? Why's that?" An instant after I closed my mouth, a loud clank followed by a terrified scream and a sickeningly loud and wet squelch came from somewhere behind me. I could only guess that it was the pressure plate I evaded. The pony above continued walking across the catwalk.
An irresponsibly smug grin crossed his face. "That."
I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes. "If that's your idea of a clever trap, somepony fooled you proper."
"Then explain why I'm up here, she's there, and you're over there."
"Enlighten me."
"You think that little trap back there was guarding this, my most sacred room. I can tell you, that's false. I have nothing in here to guard, because there's nothing in here to take."
My eyes went from the mysterious stallion to my wife. "I can argue that point."
"I expect you to! But I merely desire the opportunity to debate in return."
My eyes once again changed direction, this time to the stallion. He had finally reached the end of the catwalk, and had descended the stairs there, coming down to my level. He began to walk in the direction of my wife, so I did the same. "Now, now, don't you go thinking you're going to get between me and my wife. Why don't you stop there and tell me why you did this?"
He stopped in his tracks, looking troubled. I took a few more steps forward. I was now between him and my wife, and he was still several paces away. He smiled now, showing me his perfectly even and pearly white teeth.
"I desired her. Plain and simple. I saw her flowing mane, her curvaceous form, her open, gleeful eyes." He closed his eyes, apparently reliving some fantastic memory. "And then I learned who she was and how she spent her days-"
My blast caught him in mid-sentence, interrupting what was sure to be a well rehearsed and elegant speech. He had made the mistake I had desired, the most simple mistake every children's book villain made. He looked away, his attention elsewhere momentarily. It was too easy. I watched his body fall, turning back to my wife the moment he was still. She smiled at me weakly, her eyes only half open. Her lips moved again, but this time I was close enough to hear her words, barely above whispers. "Is he dead?"
I smiled grimly as I began to undo the buckles holding her hooves down. "For his sake, I hope so."
As I finished taking the restraints off of Maybelline, she closed her eyes and sighed. I tried to take her hoof in mine, to hold her close, but the second I touched her, she pulled away. "Wait. Let me try to stand on my own."
I smiled again. This was the Maybelline I knew so well. Stubborn to the last. I watched stoically as she turned from the table, gently lowering her hooves to the floor. As they touched the wooden floors, she gasped inaudibly, but kept pressing. After a moment, I looked into her sparkling blue eyes as she stood in front of me, unassisted. Regardless, I went to her side and supported her as we slowly made our way out of this torture chamber. I knew there would undoubtedly be an easier way back, but I knew it not, so we went the way I had entered. The only time I took my eyes off her was to look down as we passed the pressure plate, hugging the wall. The only hint that somepony had walked into their final fate here was a small puddle of smeared blood, just on the leading edge of the pressure plate. As soon as we were passed it, I never looked back, never looking away from her again as I led her to safety.