It is a measure of his maturity that he does not strike out despite the pressing way that Eden plays his games. The alpha can surely sense the discontent that roils off the obsidian boy, the festering need to dominate and assert. Underidge was the same in some senses, although he would submit to a few whereas Thorne struggled with such an endeavor. He did not want nor need some god-like idol to follow, to adore. He WAS that fellow. So, in a sense, was he not priming himself in the same shade of Eden as well? Blackthorne is simplistic but also full of contradictions, craving one thing and delighting in another, being both furious at the world and yet thrilled at it's unexpectant presents.

His side literally twitches as Eden moves closer, his lips rising so that his fangs appear, but he remains seated despite the obvious will to move. They are magnets of the same charge and as such, it is only natural that such a friction should come between them. Eden's words are disappointing in that they lack and sort of real conviction. As a King, should not he exert his authority? Demand obediance of those he keeps close, especially one as mad as Underidge? It makes Thorne's ears flatten. "What reason have you for the plains Queen's rivalry then, master Eden?" The words are inflected with venom, with clear derision, as if stating that Eden speaks a bald faced lie and Blackthorne knows it.

Knows he is an imposter trying to make himself more.

It was not as if this Aster female had done anything of use. She merely declared no one was to trespass - that was supposed to be the RULE of packs, was it not? The next words of Eden sees Thorne rising to his paws in a rush, fur on end, teeth gnashing. You can punish your father by being his child. That was the gist of it anyways - he had always been a punishment. Underidge had desired to cull him and Natiya from birth and only their mother had saved them but he had never quite figured out the REASON, and that rankled.

Why do you hate him so?

"He is madness and weakness. He professes a greatness but when I see him, all I see is what a little thing he is. In the scheme of the world, Eden, do you know what the world will remember him as? Nothing. They won't remember him because he is nothing. He is a waste." The words spew unbidden, his head rising with each word so that his posture is challenging almost, as if he is the King here, his eyes flashing. "Do you know what he has for all his troubles?" A wicked, mean smile peeks at the corner of his lips. "Nothing. He has nothing, and he is nothing. Mark my words, I'll not be the same."