The Storm King approached a microphone on the front deck of his flagship, his second-in-command, Tempest Shadow, standing resolutely beside him. Thousands of airships filled the skies, forming a colossal floating armada. The entire fleet had been summoned to hear an important announcement from His Excellency himself. The air buzzed with tension.
“Hello—” The ship’s speakers screeched with a loud, jarring feedback that sent every soldier in the vicinity clutching their ears. Grimaces and groans rippled through the crowd like a wave.
“Who made this thing?” The Storm King turned to Tempest, his tone dripping with rhetorical disdain. She shrugged with the indifference of someone used to his antics.
Clearing his throat, the Storm King adjusted the microphone. “Welcome, everyone! First off, let me congratulate you on the successful conquest of Colthage. We left no riches unplundered, no towns un-pillaged, and believe me when I say, there’s plenty more of that to come. Oh boy, so much more to come. But today—today is different.”
Soldiers near the flagship began to whisper amongst themselves. Different? What could he mean? They’d grown used to announcements about campaigns and loot distribution. What could possibly warrant this level of theatrics?
Those closest to the flagship noticed something peculiar: the Storm King was not wearing his usual iron crown. Instead, a bright red cone-shaped hat with a fluffy white pom-pom perched awkwardly on his head. The sight was so absurd it bordered on surreal.
“You see,” the Storm King continued, oblivious to their stares, “I have recently learned about an Equestrian holiday called ‘Hearth’s Warming’ from Commander Tempest. And let me tell you, it’s fantastic!”
Confused glances darted through the crowd.
“For those of you who don’t know, Hearth’s Warming is a special day of the year when creatures give gifts to one another. Gifts!” His eyes sparkled with excitement, his voice rising dramatically. “Now, as you all know, I don’t consider our army to be some run-of-the-mill loot-stealing, village-pillaging outfit. Oh no. We’re like a family! And as the head of this family, I’m the dad. The dad you always listen to, never disobey, or else you’ll pay.”
His tone turned ominous for a moment, and the soldiers froze, uneasy. Catching himself, he waved a hand dismissively. “But never mind that! The point is, I’m giving you gifts. From me.” He spread his arms wide and executed a dramatic bow.
The soldiers exchanged skeptical looks, unsure of how to respond. Was he serious? Was this some elaborate setup for a new scheme? Tempest Shadow stood stoically, her expression unreadable.
“Not just one gift, but two!” The Storm King’s voice boomed, amplified by the crackling speakers. “Let no one call me ungenerous!”
Was this really happening? Had the infamous Storm King’s icy heart thawed? Whispers spread like wildfire through the crowd, speculation running rampant.
“Now, for my first gift…” A drum roll sounded from Grubber, who had somehow procured a small drum kit. The pudgy henchman grinned as he built the anticipation.
“One slice of pizza in today’s rations!” The Storm King threw his arms into the air, a self-satisfied grin plastered across his face.
The soldiers were silent, their expressions blank.
“I said,” he repeated, his voice sharpening, “ONE SLICE. OF. PIZZA.”
Fearing the consequences of disappointing their ruler, the crowd erupted into forced cheers. Their clapping and whooping echoed through the sky, growing louder as they tried to outdo one another in enthusiasm.
“I know, right?” The Storm King smirked, clearly pleased. “I tried this stuff in Abyssinia. Let me tell you,” he kissed his fingertips in an exaggerated chef’s gesture, “benissimo.”
Tempest Shadow remained impassive, her expression as stony as ever. The crowd’s awkward cheering began to die down, but the Storm King wasn’t finished.
“And now, for my second gift,” he announced, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin. “Your very own Storm King–branded socks!” With a flourish, he pulled out a pair of socks emblazoned with his image and held them high for everyone to see.
The soldiers hesitated, then resumed their reluctant applause. Their cheers were just enthusiastic enough to avoid suspicion of dissent.
“Thank you, thank you.” The Storm King basked in their reaction, his chest puffed out with pride. “But wait! There’s more. One last gift for a very special pony.”
All eyes turned to Tempest Shadow, who raised an eyebrow. Her calm demeanor faltered slightly as the Storm King turned toward her.
“Commander Tempest has ruthlessly led my armies to victory time and time again. She’s expanded my power and crushed our enemies beneath her hooves. Truly commendable. And so, I thought it fitting to reward her hard work.”
Tempest stiffened. “There’s no need, Your Excellency,” she began, but the king silenced her with a finger to her muzzle.
“I’ve been saving this for after we conquered Equestria, but in the spirit of the festivities, why wait?” Tempest’s eyes widened. Could it be? Was he about to bestow her the thing that she truly wanted?
“A 20-bit gift card to McYeti’s!” he declared, holding up the card with a triumphant flourish.
Tempest’s expression flattened into one of utter disbelief, and disappointment. She accepted the card with a stiff nod. “Thank you, Your Excellency,” she said, her voice returning to its usual emotionless tone.
“Now, I know what you’re all thinking: ‘Storm King, you’re so generous. How can we ever repay you?’ Well, don’t worry—I’ve already deducted 50% of your paychecks as your personal gift to myself. You’re welcome!” His maniacal laughter echoed across the fleet.
The soldiers stood in stunned silence, the news of their pay cuts a bitter sting. But before they could fully process it, the Storm King clapped his hands.
“One more thing! I’ve curated a list of approved Hearth’s Warming songs. I expect everyone to show their holiday spirit by singing these—or else.” Handouts circulated through the crowd, listing songs like:
- The Storm King is Coming to Town
- Violent Night
- All I Want for Hearth’s Warming is Loot
“Come on, let’s start!
You better watch out,
You better not cry,
You better not pout,
I’m telling you why:
The Storm King is coming to town!”
Reluctantly, the troops joined in, their voices mingling into a half-hearted chorus. The Storm King nodded approvingly, letting them take over while he folded his arms and grinned.
“Happy Hearth’s Warming!” he shouted, his voice carrying over the reluctant singing. Some zebras in the ground could hear singing coming from the sky as their cities continued to burn.
Author's Note
I recently watched the MLP movie and thought of up of this funny scenenario to celebrate the holiday.
Feedback is welcome as always :)
