//------------------------------// // Winter // Story: Seasons // by Equimorto //------------------------------// He had never liked snow. It clung to his fur and got it all wet when he got back inside. It made it harder to see, and it slowed down the troops. He'd never make it snow on his kingdom once he had control over the weather. Only over his enemies. He didn't have control over the weather yet. Or a kingdom. Or fur. But he still hated snow. It buried him completely and made it impossible to see anything other than white. He'd hated it more and more with each passing winter, seven at that point. His troops, admittedly, did seem to be taking a while to find him. But it was clearly all part of the plan. They were gathering forces, training young recruits. Equestria would collapse on itself without anypony knowing how it had happened, and his loyal subjects would hand him the throne and the Princesses' powers on a silver platter. He did wish they'd at least make him aware of their plans. His ear had, unfortunately, gotten stuck on a roof overlooking the town's main square sometime a year before. This made winter even greater a torture, as it forced him to endure the daily seasonal chants of the population. Cursed ponies and their cursed songs. He would put them all on cart-pulling duty once he returned, see how willing they were to sing with a bit-gag in their mouths. And the day would come, soon. He just had to wait. Just wait.