Thunder Shock glowered hatefully at the small stallion who stared back at him. A stallion whose horn would amount to nothing in the end. A stallion who wasted his life away. A stallion who would be attending an ascension ceremony that very evening.

A stallion who wasn’t made a prince.

Thunder tore his gaze from the Polaroid of his sixth grade Nightmare Night costume, not wanting to see the chipper colt that grinned from within a prince costume.

“Prince Sunbeam.” He spat, lip twitching in the beginnings of a snarl. “A pegasus ascended to alicorn status, how quaint.” His tone was vile, the final word coming out as if it dripped in toxic sludge. He glowered at his reflection, his horn sparking once with angry energy, before he let a mask of calm fall over his face. His expression softened, lips ever so slightly turning upwards at each side.

“Welcome, my subjects. Allow me to entertain you with magic from a horn I’ve had for two fucking days.” Though the comment began mockingly simpering, it ended with a spat curse that clearly showed Thunder’s anger. He should be a prince. THE Prince! Not some stupid pegasus who had no clue about even the basics of magic history. Did he even know what a horn was made of? Did he know how to care for it? Did he know that a unicorn could get sick or die from magical exertion?

Thunder doubted it. He let himself feel a sick sense of satisfaction at the thought that ‘Sunbeam’ might end up killing himself with his own magic if he wasn’t taught properly. It was rare, sure, but it didn’t stop Thunder from imagining it happening.

“Stupid prissy prince.”