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// V - Discussing The Origins Of A Pony’s Malice 
// Story: At Your Service 
// by Deyeaz 
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V - Discussing The Origin’s Of A Pony’s Malice




Midnight had never been more euphoric to go back to his home in the astronomy tower. Opening the door and immediately stripping off his clothes, he clumsily scrambled up the stairs to his bedroom and crashed into his mattress in naught but his muscle shirt and a pair of briefs, glad that the ordeal was over... for now.

'That's right... We have to hang out at three....' he groaned internally, wondering why in the world he had even concocted the idea. Groaning externally as well, Midnight slithered under his blanket, his horn's magic yanking the balcony window's blinds shut, plunging the room into a minor sea of darkness. He wiped his glasses from his face and slapped them on his bedside table, followed by his piercing. Stressed as he was with the events of today, Midnight let this act as a catalyst in creeping into the tree of slumber's extravagant shade.

Hours later, the sound of Hoofghan music, along with the feeling of something remotely light bouncing on top of him, awoke Midnight from his uncommonly deep catnap. He opened his bleary eyes to behold the sight of Jericho waving his phone in front of his owner's face. "Thanks, pal," slurred the Sarosian as he took his phone from the chimp.

"Eep!" chirped the small primate, who scampered to the top of the metal four-poster bed and hung from the awning by his tail, swinging to and fro in a pendulum-like behavior. Midnight checked the number—it wasn't one he had saved in his contacts, that's for certain. Midnight tapped the green answer icon and put the receiver to his ear.

"Hello?" he greeted in a feigned tone of alertness and awareness.

"WHAT IN TARTARUS ARE YOU DOING, YOU PATHETIC TWIT?!?! COME DOWN HERE AND–" That was all Midnight wanted to hear, for he had hung up on the pony shouting on the other end: he knew who it was, and what she wanted.

Ear sore from the sudden shockwave of cellular sound, Midnight decided that it was time to wake up. Making some quick adjustments on his phone, he got dressed in a sluggish manner as he waited for the phone to ring again.

Sure enough, it went off once more. 'Twas the same number, yet this time a contact name was listed.

"Snarky Bitch"

Midnight slowly hit the answer icon again and put the receiver back to his ear. "...Yes?"

"... Did you hang up on me?" asked the cold voice of Octavia.

"Yep," he said shamelessly.

"...Why?"

"Well, why were you screaming like a madmare into the microphone?"

"I asked you a question, I expect an answer."

"Congrats, that is your answer."

"...Are you honestly talking down to the pony who's keeping you out of prison?" Midnight's blood ran colder than the polar ice caps as Octavia goes on to say, "Maybe I should give the princesses a call, and tell them of your illicit behavior....

"No!" Midnight was on his knees, dread poisoning his being. "Please don't! I can't go to prison! My butthole can't take that abuse!"

"Well, why aren't you here to take me and Vinyl out?" She stated. Midnight glanced at his alarm clock: three-oh-three PM. He gulped in great grief.

"Cripes! I'll be right there." Hanging up once more, Midnight slipped his earring and glasses back on his person, pocketed his phone and distributed a onceover of himself in the mirror: hat still on his head to hide his hair, black slacks, white short-sleeve button-up, and a black vest. "...Yeah, I'm ready."

With immense haste, he flared up his horn and vanished on the spot with a large green burst of magic and a pop, reluctantly teleporting to his bossy master.





Patience was not really one of Octavia's fortés.

It was hard for her to develop patience for somepony who was late to something, especially when it was something they had planned themselves. She was ever-so-punctual when it came to... well, all things, really. She liked things to be proper, precise, perfect… and unfortunately for her, her inept slave Midnight was making a mockery of her routine.

'Of all the ponies who I was given, it had to be that dirty, slothful cavedweller....' she internally growled, rapping her hoof on the pavement outside of her complex in agitation and immense, immense impatience. 'He'd better show, or else I–'

*POP!*

"You're late," she barked at Midnight as she lost her train of thought and as he appeared not ten feet from her, the unicorn forcing himself to get into a low bow.

"Sorry... Master. I was watching the news," Midnight fibbed quickly as he stood back up on his hooves.

"Really?" asked a skeptical Octavia, hands on her hips as her brow elevated in doubt. "The news?"

"Well, yeah. Rioting in Brayzil, ya know. Awful, just awful."

"Shut up," Octavia snapped, as she picked up a large dog collar from off the ground. It was wrought from stainless steel, and tethered to a length of strong black rope. "Bend over."

Midnight gulped, not liking the collar's presence in the slightest. "Must I really?"

Octavia pinched his ear and twisted with all her might, her extensive nails burrowing nastily into Midnight's cartilage. "Don't question the master: just do as she asks," she warned over Midnight's repetitive "ow"s. She undid the collar's latch with her free hand and forcefully slipped it over his head before closing the latch tight.

Midnight's horn lit up, and Octavia felt him removing her hand from his ear. "Can you not?" he suggested, massaging the ear that she had so ruthlessly impaled.

"Hey, Midnight!" Vinyl hollered as she trotted down the steps of the apartment complex in her clothes from earlier. "Glad to see you got here. Hope Tavi here isn't giving you much trouble."

"Nope," he responded reluctantly, for "Tavi" was leering at him, as if challenging him into saying a word about what really happened. "Hehe... none at all."

"Awesome. Let's go!"

"Wait," interrupted Octavia. She yanked Midnight down the road some yards until they came across a cart for two ponies. The strong steel bands of the cart's wide, waxed oaken wheels glistened in the afternoon sunshine, the slick cotton seats shielded from the sun's rays by a royal blue sunshade, the sycamore frame of the cart intent on guarding the rider's from the view of soliciting eyes of passersby. "You, pull that."

"Wait, what?" Midnight was flabbergasted at her demand. As previously mentioned by Vinyl, Midnight was, well... a nerd. No brawn, all brain, for what the scribe lacked in upper and lower body strength, he tended to make up for in wit and magical prowess. However, this wasn't the case at the moment; Octavia seemed bent on forcing him to shed every drop of sweat, every tear, and every liter of blood during his servitude to her. "Ponies have invented cars, you know. Why not just drive to the mall?"

"Less talking, more pulling," she responded as she threw the cart's harness at him, yet he let it fall to the ground, adamant in preventing the vilification of his already-plummeting pride. Octavia clicked her tongue out of impatience at her servant's persistence... until a sudden remembrance caused her to smile widely in sadistic pleasure. "Or should I resort to more... disciplinary actions?" At her hesitation, she knelt over and rummaged through the cart, withdrawing a riding crop from inside. Vinyl whistled low as Midnight gulped at the eventual anguish. The crop was an ebony masterpiece, both handle and neck decorated a brash black hue. At the end was a relatively long loop of faux-leather, treated with oils and waxes to toughen its surface.

Indeed, it was a force to be reckoned with.

"Y-you're joking, right?" he asked worriedly as Octavia clenched and unclenched her fingers around her handle of her lovely weapon. Vinyl was shaking her head when Midnight looked at her for confirmation. Out of fear of getting the tar kicked out of him, Midnight cravenly slipped the harness of the cart onto his chest, securing it tight.

"Good boy...." Octavia complemented darkly as she ran the whip's tip along Midnight's face, which was contorted into an expression of fear. "If you question me again, I may have to use this." Midnight felt his blood pressure rise, anxiety welling up fast. She then granted him a quick slap on the cheek before climbing gracefully into the cart and sat down. "Come along, Vinyl. There is fun to be had."

"Damn, dude," Vinyl murmured to Midnight as she went to enter the cart alongside Octavia and sit down on the soft plush seat. "You are whipped! Literally."

'Oh, stuff it," the male unicorn thought harshly, once his heart started returning to its normal pace. "To the mall, then... Master?"

"Yes, Sarosian. And step on it." Octavia flicked her riding crop at him, and he pulled the cart towards their destination.

...

Suffice it to say, they did not get far at all.

"Come on!" Octavia wailed, brandishing her riding crop at him. Midnight, being as skinny and nonathletic as he was, had no luck in pulling the little chariot to the mall at as great a speed as his master would like. "Can you not go faster, mongrel?!"

"A gamer's legs," Midnight huffed and wheezed, stamina and strength all but depleted, "can only do- *cough* -so much- *huff* -Master!" 

"I don't give a damn about your gamer legs! Just use the bloody things to make us go faster!"

Ponies all around started staring at the sight of Midnight just barely dragging the cart. Despite the mahogany frame of the chariot, Octavia felt all eyes on her, unrelenting gossip flicking off their tongues and landing in their ears... and hers as well.

"That was Miss Philharmonica, was it not?"

"Is that a Sarosian she's got pulling that cart?"

"She's making scum to dirty work! How amusing!"

"I didn't know such filthy beasts were on sale! Ha!"

'Miss Philharmonica? No wonder she's not married!' Midnight thought in a conniving tone as he shimmied the cart further and further. ‘Wait a damn minute, I can use magic! What am I busting my flank for?!’ Horn shining with a bright green aura of magic, he targeted the cart before casting a spell on it. Midnight, worn out from having used magic during a period of low energy, could feel the carriage itself gradually getting lighter, as though all excess weight had been relieved from it. Within moments, a partially-recovered Midnight was hauling the carriage down the cobblestone streets as though it was naught but a little wagon.

“What did you do?” Octavia demanded.

“Relax, I simply put a Weight Reduction Charm on the cart so that I can pull it and you can stop yelling at me... Master.” He still detested saying that last word, but it was what he had to do.

“Way to use the old noggin, Midnight,” congratulated Vinyl.

“Yes, well... don’t get too excited about your little victory, mongrel,” Octavia said simply. She felt as though she ought to scold him for finding a way around her backbreaking, grueling work. But it was effective, and after thinking it through, she had no real reason to complain. “Step on it.”

“Aye-aye,” Midnight said, walking at a brisk pace towards the mall.
 
"Octavia..." Vinyl began, curiosity towards her friend's behavior getting the better of her. "Can I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

"Why is it that you hate Midnight anyway?"

Octavia turned to look at Vinyl. "I don't loath just Midnight... It's towards all those of his breed."

"Yeah, but... why do you hate his breed, anyway?" Vinyl pressed, wanting to know more. "What did they do wrong?"

Taking her seat, Octavia sighed deeply, her mind calculating a precise and worthy response that would help her companion understand her abhorrent nature towards Sarosians. “You know the tale of the Mare in the Moon, correct?”

“You mean where Nightmare Moon gets banished for a millennium by Princess Celestia and the Elements of Harmony?” Vinyl guessed. “Yeah.”

“Well, this is just from rumor and speculation, but a thousand years ago, when Princess Luna had become Nightmare Moon through envy of her sister and lack of appreciation from the ponies of olden times, Nightmare Moon had nopony following her when she had refused to lower the moon and make way for the sun. So, she had made followers of her own. She had used her dark wicked magic to transform the ponyfolk into.... into monsters like him.” Octavia jabbed a finger of accusation at Midnight.

“Nightmare Moon had managed to brainwash several of the ponies and turn them into hideous caricatures she dubbed ‘Sarosians’, in their horrid tongue they call Nocturne.” Octavia felt a carpet bombing of shivers rupture on her spine as she said those names in the same sentence. “The Sarosians went rampant. They followed Nightmare’s cold, harsh, and sadistic orders. They maimed, killed, raped, and stole from many ponies in that time, without even realizing that they used to be of the same kith and kin.

“Only when Celestia had banished Nightmare Moon did the Sarosians stop their rampage. They begged forgiveness, they pleaded innocence. And what did Celestia do?” Octavia’s fist curled tightly, the knuckles almost threatening to burst through the flesh. “She gave them mercy.” Without warning, she punched the wall of the carriage, startling Vinyl slightly. A dent in the fine wood finish signaled but a brief glimpse of the cellist’s fury. “She let them live, change their ways, even allowed them to live in harmony with the other ponies that they had wreaked havoc upon!”

“But you just said this was all from rumors and speculation.”

“Well... yes. I suppose there is no real credible fact that Nightmare Moon spawned those horrid things in the first place.”

“So, why not ask Midnight how Sarosians were created?” Vinyl suggested.

“Absolutely not.” Octavia barked. “I am in no desire whatsoever to speak with the beast about who his mummy and daddy are. If you wish to know, then you ask him.”

“Alrighty, then. But one more question.”

“Yes?”

“...Why else do you hate Sarosians?”

Octavia did not hesitate in answering that question for Vinyl. “Over twenty years ago, a short debacle between the zebras of Hoofrica and the Diamond Dogs and communist ponies of the frozen country of Ruffia had broken out. A typical economic spat. The zebras tried to make trade their wealth with Ruffia for their resources, but to no avail. Concerned with the two sides’ economic standoff, the Princesses sent our best diplomats to help tranquil the problem.

“My father had been there at the time, while I was still in my mother’s womb. He had worked side by side with the Sarosians and the zebras in creating an offer that Ruffia could not refuse: four billion Bits of fine Hoofrican jewels and gold, if Ruffia built freshwater canals from their icy mountains all across the arid land of Hoofrica. My father was so close to getting it, too. Just out of reach of ending a feud between two different sides. However... just when things were about to be wrapped up... a Sarosian had not only assassinated the president of Ruffia, but had also killed Hoofrica’s chief delegate.

“Even worse, he... he also shot my father.” Vinyl gasped at such a horrific climax. A wistful look of pain swept Octavia off her hooves, looking down at the ground in sorrow. “He had made off with all the gold and jewels. Not only that, but he had launched both countries into a war of a good, long twelve years.”

“Did... did your father–?” Vinyl began, only to be stopped by Octavia’s head shake.

“He survived. It was just awful to see him come home, sore and absolutely livid.” The unicorn pulled the cellist in for a massive embrace, patting Octavia’s back soothingly. “Going on about how Celestia should have wiped those damned nightcrawlers from existence.”

“Master?” Midnight said suddenly, coming to a full stop on the side of the road. His angst for that word was rising yet again, yet his temper was still kept under control. He had eavesdropped on Octavia’s melancholy over the clattering of wheels upon rock and the clopping of his hooves, and he did not like what he overheard.

“What?” Octavia barked, not at all happy that her servant had interrupted.

“I would advise you not say that word.” Midnight looked back at her to make eye contact. Octavia, so filled with pride and power, felt both of those fuel sources of hers rupture like a punctured balloon when she saw how he was looking at her. It wasn’t a look of typical anger. It was hate. Complete, total hate. Her blood ran cold as those daggerlike eyes pierced every inch of her. Vinyl, though not the target of Midnight’s horrific glare, gulped nervously.

“A-and why not?” Octavia stuttered. She had caught her breath at the realization: she had stuttered. Her? Trip up in a conversation? Never! Especially not in front of a filthy animal like Midnight! “It’s a free country, after all.”

“Just because it’s a free country does not justify words of that nature being thrown casually in conversation, Master,” Midnight continued coldly. “Do you know how much blood has been spilled over the past several hundred years due to that one little slur?” He removed the harness and advanced towards Octavia, clambering on top of the carriage until he was right in front of her. “Enough to make yours freeze.”

“I-Is that a threat?!” She screeched at him, mustering what courage she had and using it in that one outburst. That all collapsed like a house of cards in the breeze, however, when Midnight bent over until he was almost nose to nose with her. His eyes never left her, never wavered in the amount of acidic fury those green pools of acid generated. ‘Oh, Goddess, he’s too close! I can smell his stink! Urgh, it’s like sitting in front of a wet dog!’ “It’d better not be a threat!”

“No. But it would be better for your sake if you refrained from saying it, Miss Philharmonica. Ever.” He turned around and hopped off the cart. Vinyl and Octavia could only sit there in shock and fright as Midnight put the harness back on and scanned the area for a place to put the cart. “One day, you will say it in the most unfortunate of places... and it will come back to haunt you.” 

“What the hay is your bucking problem, man?!” Vinyl hollered once she had been given a minute of silence to regain her voice.

Midnight leered at Vinyl this time, this time with annoyance rather than hate. Vinyl retreated a bit as he flashed his sharp teeth. “I don’t know if you know this, Vinyl. But I hate that word, and those who use it,” he snapped as he removed the harness once again. “We’re here. Come on.”

The two mares stepped out of the carriage, by that little scene. “Did you expect that to happen?” Vinyl asked Octavia.

“No,” she replied. “Honestly, who does he think he is, talking down to me like I did something wrong!”

“Technically, ya did do something wrong, Tavi,” Vinyl remarked. “Remember, everypony’s got a fuse until they explode; a line you don’t want to cross. I just didn’t think his would get so short after one word.”

“Well, regardless, he should know his place next time. Did you smell his odor?” she commented, the reminiscence of Midnight’s smell bringing her stomach to the brink of discomfort. “Urgh....”

“...I dunno. He smelled fine to me, considering he’s been sweating from all the work you’ve been putting him to.”

Octavia looked heavily perturbed by Vinyl’s contradiction. “Something may be wrong with you, my friend. Really.”

“Whatever,” disregarded Vinyl as they finally began moving towards the mall. “Let’s go.”
 



~End of Chapter V~