Trixie Lulamoon first felt like she understood her destiny on Hearth's Warming Day, when she was six years old. That morning she'd awakened with bright eyes, her tail whipping back and forth with excitement. A few rooms away she could hear her father's snoring as he slept off his gin from the previous night. Well, let him! Downstairs there would be wonderful, wondrous presents from Celestia, all because Trixie had made sure (had made very sure) to be a good little filly that year.

There would be a magic trick kit (which Trixie had asked for, even though Mom thought they were a waste of time) and maybe a plushie dog (because she wasn't allowed to have a real one). A phonograph record of Silke Cure's Greatest Hits (such a lovely voice!), a book of scary stories about the Eastern Frontier of Equestria (to read only on bright, sunlit days, just in case) and maybe...just maybe…

Well, maybe Celestia woke up Dad last night, while Trixie was fast asleep. Maybe she woke him up, gazed into his eyes and smiled gently. "Daddy ," she said (no, she would've called him by his name—Dice) "You need to stop drinking. Your daughter needs you. And when you drink, you always hurt her and Mom, and that makes them sad. You'd be a much better Daddy if you stopped." And then Celestia would sigh out a magic spell that would make his eyes go wide open! And he'd go downstairs and find everywhere where he hid the bottles and pour them out! And then he'd be so tired from being cured that he'd go to sleep, and that's why he snored real loud!

That's why he snored real loud this morning. That's why.

So she stood up and got out of bed and then started creeping—then started dashing—down the stairs to the Hearth Warming's Tree. It was dark, so her eyes needed to adjust to it.

But she wasn't sure of what she was seeing. There weren't any presents under the tree.

Which was impossible. Celestia wouldn't miss such a good little filly, would she?

Trixie sat there by the tree, pondering real hard. For a moment, tears started to well up from behind her eyes, but then she understood. Well, of course there were no presents under the tree! She'd only gotten one present that year, and it was—doubtless—a big one! Dad was healthy again!

And then she noticed that the snoring had stopped. She recognized the heavy hoofsteps of her father clomp-stumbling down the staircase, and lighter hoofsteps behind him—Mom.

"Daddy!" Trixie cried, and dashed to the bottom of the stairs, bouncing up and down. "Daddy, daddy! What d'ya think of Celestia's gift?"

He was at the bottom of the stairs now, the deep violet unicorn with bleary brown eyes and a pot-belly. Dice Lulamoon looked up at his daughter, then at the Hearth's Warming Tree, as if he was trying to remember something. He frowned and made his way to the kitchen. Illusa Lulamoon walked behind him, regarding Trixie with weirdly sad eyes, and followed Dice into the kitchen.

What was going on?

Trixie slowly trotted into the kitchen, eyes wide with fear and confusion, and saw him.

Dice was downing another bottle of gin.

"Dad?" said Trixie.

Dice chugged.

"Dad?" said Trixie. "Where did the presents go? Why didn't Celestia give me any presents?"

Dice set down the bottle with his telekinesis and looked up at Trixie, eyes still dull with sleep. Then he looked at the tree—under the tree, and his eyes grew wide. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a breathy "Puhhhh."

"Why did you…" Trixie began. "I thought maybe Celestia…" And now the tears were coming. How embarrassing, to cry in front of Mommy and Daddy. Big fillies don't cry. Big fillies don't cry.

And Dice Lulamoon was looking down at her now, starting to frown, his own eyes growing wet. He looked down on the kitchen counter at his favorite pack of playing cards, then looked under the tree again. Illusa glared at him.

It was too much, maybe. Dice looked back at Illusa blankly, but his face began to scrunch up with anger. "You," he said. Illusa took a step back, and Dice seemed to question his actions for a moment. Then he looked down at Trixie.

"No. You," he said. "Tried to get money for you. More presents. But you fucked it all up! Wasn't for you, would have my money."

Trixie began to back away. "Dad," she squeaked. "Not today."

But it was going to happen today. Dad was going to hurt her today, of all days. And Mom wasn't going to do anything but maybe show a tight smile of false approval.

Trixie lay in her bed, covers drawn over her. Dad had gone out, to the bar. He was gone for now.

She was safe.

The bruises on her face and body were worse this time. He was angrier, or maybe sadder. She thought about his words. Hearth Warming's Day—so, Celestia didn't give good fillies and colts presents every year? After all, Dad had said that he didn't have the money this year. And this raise another question—was Celestia even real?

Celestia's real, thought Trixie, but it didn't make her feel any better.

The door to Trixie's room softly opened. Mom trotted in, eyes red from crying. "Trixie?" she whispered hoarsely.

Trixie nodded. She knew what came next.

"I'm sorry," said Mom. And now, thought Trixie, she was going to leave for the living room to read her stupid cheesy romance books. But she didn't. Instead, she trotted up to Trixie's bed and sat down beside her.

"Trixie," she began, and looked into her eyes. "I want to tell you something."

"I know Celestia isn't real," Trixie mumbled.

Mom blinked a couple times. A smile graced her face—it looked almost alien. "No, Celestia is real. But she doesn't go delivering presents. She has other things to do. But we give presents for her. She wants everypony to be happy."

"Well," said Trixie, folding her forelegs. "I'm not happy."

"And that's the problem," her mother replied with a sigh. "You're not with the right person, Trixie. You're with a father who's…" She spat the next words "…mean and stupid. And you're with a mother who's spineless and weak." Trixie's mother sighed, and looked out the window to Fillydelphia. "You deserve better than this. You deserve to grow to all you can be."

Trixie leaned up in her bed.

"I think you're very good at magic tricks," she admitted, turning to her daughter. "I think you're smart, and dramatic, and you can be funny." And then something strange happened. The voice of Trixie's mother, Illusa—usually so weak and quiet—grew louder and more confident. "I think you're better than this family. I think there's a better place for you than with us—because we're shackling you here. I think—I believe, with all my heart!—that you're not destined to be weak and spineless." Tears ran down Illusa's cheeks as she leaned in to nuzzle her daughter. "I think you were meant to be great and powerful. And from now on, you're going to live with someone who can let you become who you're meant to be."

Trixie had never been to Manehatten before, and she'd only seen her Aunt and Uncle at family reunions. When she stood at the foot of the stairs, looking up at the door to their apartment, she wondered if they were even going to come out. Or was this some kind of mean joke on Trixie?

The door swung open, and Trixie gasped. Two ponies—both smiling!—rushed out to greet her. "Trixie!" said the mare, embracing her. "My, how you've grown!"

The stallion grinned. "You look a lot like your mother, too."

Trixie wondered if that was a compliment for a moment…but only for a moment. Then the smell of fresh cupcakes and muffins wafted out from the apartment. Her mouth began to water.

"This is like a dream," she whispered, and suddenly wondered if it would end like one. She wondered if she would wake up, alone and cold in her house, with nothing under the tree and no one there who would stand up for her. What if she'd dreamed her mother taking her by train to Manehatten? What if she was dreaming up this aunt and uncle she barely remembered?

"Are you alright, sweetie?" said the stallion, tilting his head. He exchanged a glance with the mare, and winced for a moment. Then he smiled and leaned in to Trixie—she nearly leaped back. "Listen, here's a secret," he said. "We're having a party here for our niece. And all the other fillies and colts are there, waiting to meet her." As he spoke, a couple other fillies stepped through the doorway and peeked out. "Is she going to come in?"

"Yes," said Trixie feebly. She cleared her throat and smiled. "Yes, Trixie is going to come on in."

And she walked into the brightly-lit apartment, where the hearth was bright and warm.