Dante

Turns out the gala wasn't as great as it's been told of, just really a bunch of gossiping rich ponies. Not really his type of crowd, Dante found himself in the armory after he had snuck past his mother. The room smelled of metal and old musky sweat, a truly rancid smell.  He found himself wandering up the rows of weapons, soon dropping his royal blue velvet cape with his sword as he attached a shield to his wing and blade to another.

Dante stepped into the practice yard and floated out the magical training dummies, wooden pony shaped creations that gave full combat experience with the life magic offers. He spread out his front hooves and adorned them with real swords , activating them they all turned to him charging with the intent to kill. Being an alicorn gave no prestigious skill to him, he learned everything he knew from the midst of battle, he couldn't control the sun, or the moon like his mother, he wasn't exactly sure of his purpose, all he knew was that he was good at one thing. Fighting, fighting to the death, the training dummies all leaped in, he tossed himself down rolling. A dummy tried bucking back at him, he swayed to the side to avoid it and brought down a crushing blow upon it, the blade on his wing splintering the wooden dummy, the others swarmed at him showing no intent on mercy, no soul.

Dante screamed as he charged in which attracted attention from the ongoing royal celebration, onlookers came out to see him fighting the wooden dummies wielding deadly weapons. He cared not, he was lost, a blood lust raged within him. He lived for this feeling, he ducked as one swung a sword clipping a ear, as he stood he slammed his sheilded wing out to his side smashing the dummy, it's head cracking and splintering from the force the other two showed fear and hesitated.

Dante merely grinned as his mist turned into a misty blood red, his armor took a gothic form, black and spiny, his wings turned bat like. His horn took a curved shape and formed a razor sharp edge, as he bared menacing fangs, this was his true form, given to him by his father. He was death, he was destruction, he was the essence of war. For there to be harmony, there has to be chaos, and he was but just one element within those powers.

The dummies began to show awareness, they dropped their weapons and backed away, he had no intention of sparing the living crafts of wood, they both floated up, struggling trying to break his grasp on them. It failed, they creaked and groaned as they slowly were torn apart, piece by piece he tore them, small splinters would fly up with each piece. Dante dropped the bodies and put them all in a pile by the yard. He lost his form as soon as he looked up at the crowd watching his mother staring in sadness, he had nothing to say, no reaction, no feeling. Nor did the audience, they were speechless, or perhaps they saw something to fear, something sinister lurking deep within their prince. Impossible, he's a hero! Why would he hurt ponies he fought to protect? He couldn't possibly do that could he..?

Dante found himself thinking as he racked his battered weapons and removing his scuffed, dented, sweaty armor. He looked at himself using the reflection of a shield just silently thinking. "Why... Why did I just go out there and do that.."