It was an overcast day in Canterlot. The sky was almost white from the sun's light trying to pierce the thin layer of gloomy gray clouds. The ground was covered in more ice than snow, and what snow was left had gone grayish and was piled up along the sides of the cobblestone streets.

It was the day before Hearth's Warming Eve, and as such, decorations abounded, tinsel hanging from every roof with great colorful orbs hanging down from it. A single building on the street, however, had foregone the festive adornments. It was a counting house, shabby from what appeared to be years of disuse and abandonment, but its business had been consistently active for decades; it was worn down only from neglect and apathy.

In the cold and dark office, Trixie worked behind a desk. She was a middle-aged blue unicorn with a wispy white mane, her face lined with her years. She wore a suit which had once been sleek and black but had grown old and cheaply patched, and her deep frown looked as though it hadn't budged in years.

Trixie worked mindlessly by the light of a single candle, seemingly having no trouble doing so. In a small side room, her clerk was working under the same circumstances, but was clearly struggling to see in the darkness, and shivering in the cold. The young clerk was Twilight Sparkle, a pale purple alicorn, small for the breed, her physique barely different from that of an ordinary pony.

Twilight glanced occasionally at Trixie, at the coal stove in her office, where Trixie's three other employees, a trio of mangy diamond dogs, were gathered as they filed reports and answered letters. Twilight stared longingly at the stove, but decided against attempting to work there herself; there scarcely seemed to be more than one coal burning, and that small increase in warmth would surely not be worth Trixie's reaction.

A tiny bell rang as the door to the counting house opened, and a tall and thin mare bounded in with all the bounce and enthusiasm of a young child. "Hello, Miss Sparkle!" she said brightly. "Merry Hearth's Warming Eve to you!"

"And a very merry Hearth's Warming Eve to you, Auntie!" Cadance said to Trixie. "May Celestia bless and watch over you!"

Trixie's niece was a pink alicorn with magnificent purple wings and striking eyes, and in harsh contrast to Trixie herself, wore a broad toothy grin which at the present moment seemed permanently imprinted upon her face. Trixie inspected her face with disdain before scoffing, "Pfft. What a load of hooey."

Cadance's smile faltered. "'Hooey'? You're calling Hearth's Warming Eve a load of hooey?"

"Well, yes," said Trixie. "What reason do you have for celebrating the holy time of Celestia? What's she ever done for you? You're poorer and no better off than you ever were."

Cadance leaned across Trixie's desk. "And what reason do you have for denying her? You've built yourself a grand fortune from absolutely nothing. You should be thanking Celestia for her blessings."

"I did that by myself," Trixie retorted. "Celestia played no part. If she were to get up off her divine keister sometime and actually give a hoof in aid to somepony, I might believe there's something to this whole 'may Celestia bless and watch over you' business, but as long as she remains far away and beyond the reach of mortal perception, I say you are spouting nothing but hooey!"

"But Auntie, that's what Hearth's Warming Eve is all about," Cadance said in a pained voice. "For remembering the time when Celestia did walk among us, all the things she did to save us, and holding faith that she watches over us still."

"And is that how you choose to thank her?" Trixie sneered. "By succumbing to sin, taking a day off of work for sloth and gluttony, making frivolous purchases of gifts that punch your finances in the gut? Finding yourself, at the end of the year, a year older, fatter, uglier, and having to do the whole thing over again? How much of a fool a pony must be to go about saying 'Merry Hearth's Warming Eve', and it would seem we live in a whole world full of such fools!" She glared at Cadance. "And the scariest part is that sometimes I think they truly mean it. I'd like to see them all skewered."

"Cease your whining, niece," Trixie spat. "Let's forego these meaningless and futile entanglements. You celebrate Hearth's Warming Eve your way, I'll do it my way."

"Your way?" Cadance said skeptically. "Your way, meaning not celebrating Hearth's Warming Eve at all."

Cadance narrowed her eyes, and placed both of her front hooves on Trixie's desk, to tower over her aunt. "There are better things a pony may gain than profit, dear aunt," she said forcefully. "Yes, I have never gained a penny from Hearth's Warming Eve, but every year, it never fails to make me a richer pony. It's the time of year when all creatures under the sun and the moon seem to come together in friendship and harmony, where no pony stands above another, where we remember that we are all the children of this earth. Hearth's Warming Eve has enriched me in my soul, Auntie, and I know beyond a doubt that it will continue doing so for many years to come, and it can do the same for you if you would but open your heart to its kindness and love!"

Twilight sat up in her chair and tapped her front hooves together in applause. Trixie's head snapped toward her with a ferocious glare. Terrified, Twilight hastily puffed out the candle on her desk, extinguishing its light and leaving the small side room pitch dark, so that Trixie could not see her anymore.

"A charming speech," Trixie said coldly to Cadance. "You should have been a politician."

Cadance rolled her eyes, then sighed and looked to the floor. "Auntie… I came here to ask you to dine with me tomorrow," she said tenderly. "You and I are the only family we have left in the world, all I wish is for us to be friends. My husband has invited his entire extended family to the grandest feast we could manage this Hearth's Warming Eve, and it would honor us all to see you there… your absence would be a void in the family."

"This husband of yours," said Trixie. "Tell me, when he courted you, what did he promise? He had no means with which to provide for you, his wealth and well-being could scarcely serve to better your way of life at all. So why marry such a stallion?"

"I love him, Auntie," Cadance said promptly. "I married him because I love him."

Tears filled Cadance's eyes. "Auntie…" she peeped. "You… you make me sad. Truly, you do. But I cannot say I didn't try. I came to wish you a merry Hearth's Warming Eve, and I still wish that upon you. Merry Hearth's Warming Eve to you, Aunt Trixie."

Cadance nodded, and turned to the three diamond dogs gathered at the furnace. "Good day to you, gentlemen," she said. They smiled weakly and nodded to her, and she started for the door. "Nice to see you again, Miss Sparkle," she called to the darkness in the other room.

"Oh, she does, my dear lady," Cadance said sweetly. "She does. May she do the same for you."

"Oh, sure, Celestia watch over Twilight Sparkle," Trixie muttered to herself. "The pony who must try to support her husband and children on fifteen bits a week, yes, very blessed, that one. Idiocy…"

Cadance opened the door, to find two other ponies standing there who had been about to knock.

"Hello!" she crowed in an overdramatic, almost insane fashion. "Well met, dear ladies! MERRY HEARTH'S WARMING EEEEEEVE!" She slipped in between them and off into the streets, dancing and prancing as she did so.

The two well-dressed ponies entered the counting house, staring in amused confusion over their shoulders at the retreating figure of Cadance. One was a white unicorn with an elegantly styled mane, the other a yellow pegasus who carried herself in a delicate posture, almost as if she might break at the slightest sudden movement.

"Pardon me, ma'am," said the unicorn. "Would this be the office of Miss Gilda and Miss Trixie?"

"Miss Gilda has been dead seven years," Trixie said emotionlessly. "She died seven years ago this very night."

"Oh, I am sorry to hear that," the unicorn said sympathetically. "Miss Trixie, then?"

"Lovely!" said the unicorn, undeterred. "I am Rarity, and this is my friend and business partner Fluttershy. We are here collecting donations for charity."

Trixie raised an eyebrow at Fluttershy, who had begun to slouch and shiver in discomfort from the first moment Trixie had spoken.

"In the Hearth's Warming Eve season," Rarity continued, "as we all know, the fire of friendship keeps us all warm, but for the poor and homeless, who have no hearth to warm themselves by, they depend on the harmony between ponies more than any other. Thousands are depending on the kindness and generosity of their fellow ponies… to give them the necessities and common comforts that are everypony's divinely-granted right."

Trixie tapped her quill against her teeth. "Necessities," she repeated thoughtfully. "Common comforts. And what might those be?"

"A steady source of food and drink," Fluttershy supplied. "A real bed in which to sleep at night. Shelter and warmth against the chill of this otherwise joyful season."

"A donation of a mere five bits will put a roof over a pony's head and food on their table," said Rarity, producing a quill and parchment. "So how many shall you aid, my dear Miss Trixie? What shall I put you down for?"

Trixie leaned back in her chair. "Nothing," she said. "Not a damn thing, Miss Rarity. There is no need. The poor always eventually end up where they belong—prisons and workhouses. They'll find plenty of food and shelter there. My tax bits pay for those institutions, so I see no need to shill out more of my blood, sweat, and tears to allow idle folk to gorge themselves on food and drink they didn't earn."

Rarity stepped back in surprise, and briefly leaned in to consult with Fluttershy. "This one may be a tough sell," she muttered.

Trixie's eyes burned with fury, and Fluttershy cowered in sheer terror. "Okay, I'm sorry!" she squeaked. "I'm sorry… no musical number…"

"The truth of the matter, Miss Trixie," said Rarity, "is that there are too many poor folks for all of them to find solace in such places, and… and to be frank… many would rather die."

"There are too many ponies in Canterlot these days, don't you think?" Trixie said sweetly. "I've often thought some thinning of the herds was in order. Now, are you going to continue shoving your business into my face, or shall I get back to mine?"

Rarity and Fluttershy glanced at each other sadly, and withdrew without a word, the bell on Trixie's door ringing as they opened and closed it.

Trixie noticed that the three diamond dogs' eyes were darting between the single coal burning in the stove and the sack of extra coals in the corner of the room.

"Don't you dare put another coal on that fire," she said sternly. "Don't—don't do it. No. Noooo."

A few seconds later, Trixie lifted her head and glared at the door. There was a very distinct sound coming from outside, something she did not like. She stormed forward and tugged the door open, glaring at the five carolers who were standing on the street corner just outside her place of work.

The fire of friendship lives in our hearts
As long as it burns, we will not drift apart
Though quarrels arise, their numbers are few
Laughter and singing will see us through
Will see us—

Trixie's horn glowed with pale pink energy, and she flung her head toward the carolers, creating an explosion of fireworks in their midst. A tiny mushroom cloud sprang up, and when it cleared, the dumbfounded carolers were covered in ash. They slowly turned their heads toward Trixie and, mumbling softly to each other, slowly shambled away.

Trixie looked up, and saw a small brown owl sitting atop the peeling Gilda and Trixie sign above the door. It looked back down at her, and a single glance at her death-threatening glare was all it took for it to the owl to take to the skies in a panic.

"Hmph!" Trixie growled, closing the door and returning to her desk. "It's the same every year, Hearth's Warming Eve constantly assaulting the senses, there just isn't ever a single second of respite—oh what fresh hell is this?" she demanded as her door, for the third time that afternoon, was opened from the outside.

A tiny unicorn filly with blond hair and a coat of pale pastel purple hobbled into the counting-house. Her right hind leg was in a brace, and the front leg on the same side was withered and weak, curled up atop a crutch. Her big, pale yellow eyes looked up at Trixie with cheer and innocence.

"Dinky, sweetheart," said Twilight, rushing out of her small workspace and bending down to embrace the small filly. "What are you doing here? I told you I'd be working late tonight."

"But it's the day before Hearth's Warming Eve," Dinky pleaded. "We need you home, Momma. Won't Miss Trixie let you come home early?"

Twilight bit her lip and cautiously turned toward Trixie, who set down her quill and sighed. "So, just so we're clear," she grumbled, "you want to leave early tonight… and get the whole day off tomorrow?"

"I hardly think that's fair," Trixie snipped. "If I didn't give you Hearth's Warming Eve off, you'd say you were being put out. But having to pay you a full week's wages when you earned only a portion of them, doesn't anypony consider that that puts me out?"

Dinky coughed harshly, and Twilight glanced at her in concern. "It's just once a year, Miss Trixie," Twilight implored.

"Oh, I only get robbed once a year, that's some comfort," Trixie retorted. "But fine… go. You'd better be here as early as all hell the morning after Hearth's Warming Eve."

She lifted Dinky onto her back, wrapping a blanket around the little filly's shoulders, and rushed out the door, happily galloping off into the snow as Dinky laughed giddily.

"Feh," Trixie said in disgust, turning to the three diamond dogs. "Well, I've had enough of this nonsense. I'll be leaving early as well. I'm putting it to you three to lock up when your work is finished; if there's a single paper out of place when I return tomorrow, it will be on your heads."

They nodded fearfully as Trixie fetched her jacket and silk hat and stiffly marched out into the street.

TRIXIE: A Hearth's Warming Eve Carol

by SupaSupaBadTrulyMadMoves

The Day's Visitors