Author's Note: I feel like I got the point across with the summary sooo no more of that. Thank you all so much for the reviews, I really appreciate them and try to respond to everyone! A special thanks to Philip Gipson and Kiara, who left lovely reviews but don't have accounts, so I couldn't reply to their messages personally.

If any of you have younger or older siblings, you are aware of the "copying" phase. I myself am an only child, but my friend assures me it gets very irritating for the older sibling haha.

Disclaimer: I don't own even a smidgen of Thundercats (boooooo).

Chapter 3: Copycat Kitten

"What are you reading?" a curious voice asked.

Tygra slowly lowered his book, his brother's face emerging behind it. Lion-o, they had all discovered, had reached the peak of his "curious phase" in recent weeks. It seemed every time the eight-year-old opened his mouth, it was to ask a question. Tygra would be lying if he said it didn't get on his nerves every now and then, especially since the cub had also taken to following him around everywhere. (Well, truthfully, they had always stuck by each other's side... it just had never bothered Tygra before.)

In response to Lion-o's question, he turned the book around so the title was facing him.

"'Tales of Fangra the Bold,'" Lion-o read aloud. "Sounds cool! What's it about?"

"Fangra the Bold, obviously," Tygra snapped, then instantly regretted it when Lion-o flinched, his ears angling down against his neck. Quickly, he attempted to soothe the sting.

"He was a great warrior in our lore, helping Thundera to rise to power," he explained in a gentler tone. "Here, I'll read some of it to you."

He opened his arms in invitation, but Lion-o made a face and recoiled.

"Tygra, I'm too old to sit on your lap and have stories read to me," he protested, puffing his chest out to indicate his apparent growth.

"Of course," Tygra conceded, pursing his lips in his effort not to smile.

The next day, Tygra walked into the playroom to find Lion-o reading.

"Hey, little brother," he greeted jovially, sitting beside Lion-o. "What are you reading?"

"'Tales of Fangra the Bold,'" the younger prince eagerly responded. "I can't believe he fought off an army of two hundred lizards all by himself!"

"Yeah, well... books exaggerate," Tygra said slowly, suddenly finding himself on the irritated side.

"Oh." Lion-o's face fell. "What does 'exaggerate' mean?"

Tygra sighed heavily. "You know, like, make things seem bigger and more interesting than they really are."

"Oh," Lion-o said again. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense... so, what did you do today, Tygra?"

"This and that," he said vaguely, shrugging.

"Did you practice with your whip?" the cub asked excitedly.

Since Tygra turned twelve, his training as a warrior of Thundera had expanded to include weapons. Usually, it took several years for a cat to find his weapon of choice; but in Tygra's case, the bolo-whip had come naturally as soon as he'd first picked it up.

"Yep," he confirmed, grinning. "The trainer says in a few years' time, I'll be able to start using magic with it."

"Coooooool!" Lion-o exclaimed, and Tygra couldn't help but sit a little taller with pride.

"Hey, Tygra... what kind of weapon do you think I'll get?" Lion-o asked, kicking his feet nervously.

"You're going to get the Sword of Omens, of course!" he said, wondering why his brother looked rather downcast. "It's the weapon of the king. What's the matter?"

Lion-o didn't answer at first, staring moodily at the ground; Tygra reminded himself what Jaga said, that patience was a tool always kept in a wise cat's belt.

"What if I don't want the Sword of Omens?" Lion-o murmured.

"Why wouldn't you want it? It's the greatest weapon in Thundera!" Tygra shook his head, baffled at his brother's abrupt reticence. A part of him was irrationally angry. If he'd had the choice, he would use the Sword of Omens in a heartbeat.

"Maybe I want a bolo-whip instead."

Suddenly all the previous feelings of irritation hit Tygra full-force.

"The bolo-whip's my weapon," he said possessively.

"Why can't I have a whip, too?" Lion-o demanded.

"Because you have the sword, and the whip's mine!" Tygra countered, exasperated. He felt like the argument was just going in annoying little circles.

"Nevermind," Lion-o said with finality, hiding his face behind his book.

Scowling in agitation, Tygra slid from the couch and stalked out of the room.

Several weeks later, clothes flew across the room as Tygra dug through his wardrobe, intent on finding his favorite baby blue tunic.

"Nona, have you seen my tunic?" he shouted, still digging furiously.

His nurse poked her head in the doorway, surveying the piles of unkempt clothing scattered on the floor.

"No, Master Tygra," she replied. "But perhaps you're searching in the wrong place."

Tygra froze.

"Lion-o," he muttered, eyes narrowing. "The little brat's been taking my clothes for weeks."

Standing up, he waded through the mess on his bedroom floor, but was blocked at the door by the nurse.

"And who do you suppose will clean this mess up, Master Tygra?" she inquired, placing her paws on her hips.

"Nonaaaa," he whined. "I have to find Lion-o!"

"You can find your brother after you've cleaned your room," the nurse said sternly.

Finally, after half an hour of hurriedly shoving shirts and pants back into his wardrobe, Tygra sped down the hall in search of his whisker-headed little brother. The servants told him he was to be found on the training grounds, so the young prince flew down two flights of stairs and cut through the courtyard, all the while thinking murderous thoughts. Lion-o trying to be like him was barely tolerable in the first place; after weeks of being followed and mimicked, Tygra was about ready to scream.

He skirted around the handful of cats practicing in the open target field and headed toward the indoor arena, where he guessed Lion-o to be. Tygra wondered why he was even on the training grounds to begin with, since he was too young to start any real training; another side-effect of the big-brother complex, he supposed.

Just as he'd suspected, the indoor arena was empty save for the lone, red-maned figure crouching in the center. Tygra stilled, unwilling to believe what he was seeing; not only was Lion-o in his tunic, which was comically small on the cub, but laying on the ground a few feet away from him was Tygra's bolo-whip.

Tygra felt his blood boil as he marched up to him, fists clenched at his sides. This had gone way beyond all boundaries as far as he was concerned. A cat's weapon was a sacred item. Unlike books and clothing, that whip was unequivocally his, no one else's. Lion-o had no right to go anywhere near it, just like Tygra had no right to ever use the Sword of Omens.

"What are you doing, Lion-o?" he snarled, glaring venomously down at his brother.

Lion-o looked up at him, eyes swimming with tears. It was then that Tygra noticed Lion-o was cradling his left arm to his chest, and that the front of his – Tygra's – tunic had a red smudge on its silky blue fabric.

All the blood that had rushed to Tygra's head in senseless rage abruptly drained, chilling him. He fell to his knees, grabbing Lion-o by the elbow and tugging his arm forward, his heart skipping at the whimper his brother couldn't bite back.

"Lion-o! What happened?" he gasped, unable to look away from the red gash on Lion-o's forearm.

"I-I just," he hiccuped, wiping at his tears with his other arm. "Wanted to... I d-don't know... I'm s-sorry, I'm sorry, Tygra, I sh-shouldn't have used your whip."

Apologies kept tumbling from Lion-o's mouth as he sobbed, either from the pain or the guilt, or maybe both, Tygra wasn't sure. He shushed him, tearing a strip of cotton from his belt to wrap around the gash until he could get Lion-o to a doctor. Focusing on his breathing made it easier to control his shaking hands.

"Are you angry?" Lion-o whispered, sniffling.

"No," Tygra snapped, tying the makeshift gauze tightly.

"Yes you are."

"Shut up, Lion-o," he said sharply, fighting back his own angry tears. "Just shut up, okay?"

Lion-o stared at him in silence, still sniffling every now and then. Tygra opened his mouth, then closed it, entirely at a loss for words that weren't a variation of "Do you even have a brain, you stupid, selfish, idiotic baby?"

Instead, he stood up and retrieved his whip, wrapped it around itself, and put it away before coming back and sitting across from Lion-o again. The prince was avidly avoiding looking at Tygra's face, focusing on the hastily-wrapped arm in his lap.

"Hey," Tygra said, putting his hands on the sides of Lion-o's face and tilting it up. "Look at me when I'm mad at you."

Lion-o blinked, clearly not sure whether or not that was a joke and if he was supposed to laugh. He settled for a confused furrowing of his brow.

"Seriously, what you just did was the stupidest thing I ever..." Tygra stopped and took a deep breath, letting go of Lion-o's face to grip his shoulders instead. "Never do that again. Any of it. No more copying me, no more wearing my clothes, and if I ever see you anywhere near my whip again I will kill you. Got that?"

Lion-o nodded mutely and Tygra dropped his 'serious scolding' face, exhausted from all the anger and fear he'd felt in one day.

"There's a reason why you don't have a weapon yet, and why you're not going to get a bolo-whip," he explained softly, lifting his brother up as he stood. Lion-o settled his head against Tygra's neck and wrapped his legs around his torso, not saying anything. Tygra was reminded of the day he rescued Lion-o from a tree when they were younger, and the memory brought a smile to his lips.

"You're not me, baby brother, and I don't want you to be like me. You're meant for different things. Greater things."

"Really?" Lion-o lifted his head and gazed searchingly at Tygra.

"Well, yeah." Tygra nuzzled his head against Lion-o's, smiling. "You're going to be king one day. But until then, stay away from my things."