Comet's Tale

Family appreciation day

The sun had already begun to dip below the horizon when Rumble finally left the schoolhouse, his wings drooping slightly as he made his way home.

It had been a long day. Math drills, history essays, a pop quiz on Equestrian geography—all the boring stuff that never seemed to end. The only thing that kept him going was the thought of the Young Flyers Competition try-outs happening later today.

But as he reached his house, a part of him already knew how the next few minutes were going to go. Thunderlane would have something to say. He always did.

Sure enough, the moment Rumble stepped inside, the smell of vegetable stew filled the air, and his brother's voice came from the kitchen.

"You're home late. Go put your saddlebags away and set the table."

Rumble sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

Dropping his things in his room, he dragged himself back into the kitchen, setting the plates down with just enough force to make a clinking sound—just enough to let Thunderlane know he wasn't in the mood.

Thunderlane, as always, didn't react. He just ladled out the stew and took a seat.

For a while, they ate in silence. The stew was good—Thunderlane was a decent cook, he'd give him that—but Rumble barely tasted it. He just wanted to finish, get his homework out of the way, and head straight for the try-outs.

Then, of course, Thunderlane had to say something.

"Rumble, slow down. You're gonna choke."

Rumble froze mid-bite. His jaw clenched.

That tone. That "I-know-better-than-you" tone.

He'd heard it his whole life.

"Wash your teeth again, Rumble."
"Eat all your vegetables."
"What do you have to do for school tomorrow?"

Thunderlane was always watching, correcting, reminding, controlling.

Rumble took a slow breath through his nose, forcing himself to chew slower, if only to avoid another comment.

Then, as casually as possible, he said, "After I finish my homework, I'm heading to the Young Flyers Competition try-outs."

Thunderlane didn't even look up. "You sure about that? You still haven't done the chores from yesterday."

Rumble blinked, his wings twitching. "What?"

"You were supposed to do them yesterday, and you didn't," Thunderlane said simply. "So you have to do them today."

Rumble's feathers bristled. "Come on, Thunderlane, today's the last day for try-outs!"

Thunderlane finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Then maybe you should've done your chores earlier."

That was it. That was the last straw.

The frustration that had been boiling inside Rumble all day—no, all his life—finally burst.

"Why do you always have to control everything?!" he snapped, slamming his hooves on the table. "You're always telling me what to do—what to eat, how to fly, when to sleep! You never let me do anything on my own!"

Thunderlane, caught off guard, frowned. "Rumble, I—"

But Rumble wasn't done. The words were just spilling out now, sharp and cutting like knives.

"You act like you're so much smarter than me, but guess what? You're not! You're just some nopony bossing around a bunch of pegasi in Ponyville! That's all you'll ever be!"