The speech had begun like Celestia knew it would, with a lot of silent yelling. This might have sounded like an oxymoron to most. But when one addressed a crowd for nearly a thousand years. One understood how to read faces and especially eyes, and nearly four thousand of them stared at Celestia politely, but with that inpatients one holds for old mares who pay exorbitant fees at a bank with penny’s, all the while holding the line of ponies behind them hostage with small talk about their grandsons.
But none of them wanted to be the first one to yell it out, it was strange how any individual thrown into a crowd lost all individuality at all. The fear of being publicly judged was more dreadful than anything else in the world. How do you think creatures of all species were convinced to go to war after all? Nothing was worse than being passive-aggressively shushing and to see others shaking their heads disapprovingly. It was why librarians were the most powerful apex predators in the universe. Able to shame a fully grown stallion into obedience with just a purse of their lips.
Everyone was here, they all knew something big was going to be announced even if it had not been specified. Nobles, partitions, county representatives, then there were the reporters, photographers, editorialists, and most importantly of all the average mare and stallion, the lifeblood of her country and the ones she needed most to get on her side.
She was an expert at reading crowds and this one was like a stack of dynamite inside a straw hut next to a twitching stallion with a propensity to chain smoke. She wasn’t sure how much of Luna's disastrous trip had reached the city already in the last three days. But no doubt enough of them had heard rumors, enough that if she said the wrong thing, if she gave off the wrong vibe, that twitching cigarette might slip onto the fuse prematurely. She was fine with an explosion so long as she was the one setting it off.
That was why she had decided to cool things down for the moment, by employing her favourite strategy when she thought a crowd was getting a little too restless. Proposing mild tax increases.
“And that my fellow ponies is why I believe that a small tax increase of about one point four percent annually will go a long way to rebuilding a brighter tomorrow, after all the roads of our fair country are the veins of commerce and should not impede commerce and-” blah-blah-blah, Celestia’s mouth was on autopilot. She idly stared at the gathered crowd from her stage, watching as the reporters, nobles and other ponies across the courtyard sagged collectively.
Quills that had been eager for the latest gossip were slumped against scrolls as their owner fought to keep awake. One Pegasus had somehow managed to start snoring whilst he was still hovering off the ground.
Finally, like a maestro addressing her quartet, when the muttering and sagging had reached its lowest ebb, she let her mind kick back into gear again and took on a solemn tone.
“Finally, my fellow ponies, if you will indulge me for a moment, I have one last point in which to address.” She said, her voice rising slightly now, she could see some of the ponies at the front began to sit up slightly straighter, the pegasus who had been snoring startled himself awake and flashed a photo before his partner drew him down and whispered harshly into his ear.
“Some of you might have already heard about some unpleasantness that went on during my dear sweet sisters” - my pain in the flank little snot-nosed brat of a sister- “latest diplomatic,” -catastrophe- “mission to Griffonstone.” Celestia said, making sure to sweep the crowd with her gaze.
She heard ponies muttering then, mostly confusion, and a few startled harrumphs from the stands in which the nobles were seated. But she noticed others, particularly in the back, were looking on with interest. Yes, it seemed news had already made its way here, fields above she hoped this worked. “Whilst I know you are all aware that my sister is a loving and giving person, there are in fact some rumours that she might have a problem with her more antiquated view of things.” Antiquated was saying something, some of her views could have been dusted off with a brush and displayed at a museum.
Another bout of mutterings followed louder than before. “Yes, it comes as no surprise that some of her more unusual eccentricities might have been noticed while she visited the capital of our allies and dearest friends of the Griffon Empire.” She hoped that wasn’t an anachronistic statement already.
“I am saddened to say that this is all… true.'' A huge bout of muttering followed that statement, already some of the over-eager press flung questions at Celestia like arrows. She wasn’t perturbed though, in fact, she had to admit she always enjoyed this part, not the topic, she really wished she didn’t have to give this speech. But the feeling, that feeling of being on a knife edge, knowing it could all go wrong with just one wrong inflection of a word, too long on a single sentence and it was over.
Speeches were an art form and she prided herself in being a master of her craft.
“Yes, I was deeply troubled to learn of my sister's behavior at the capital, her less-than-exemplary manner was unbecoming of our station and it deeply shamed both herself and the ponies of this great land.”
The muttering rose to a fever pitch now, confusion in most, downright disbelief in others, though she noticed that some of the nobles were sharing knowing glances. They knew all too well her sister's brash nature. After all, it was no secret her sister regarded the nobility, in the same way, others regard manure discovered on the bottom of their horseshoe.
This was fine though, she could work with this. “But my dear ponies, though this is not something I would ever condone, I must admit… I sympathise with my sister.”
The collective gasp from those that knew was almost intoxicating, Celestia never had so much trouble keeping her face as solemn as she had then. The reporters were already near frothing at the mouth. Questions did not so much fly at her now as they were fired out with a blunderbuss.
She lifted up her hoof for silence once more, “Yes, I sympathise with her, not her actions, not her words, but at the stress of her burden, she was after all not herself.” She fought to keep her lips straight even so there was a small uptick, damn it all if she did not love this part of her job, dropping the proverbial bomb as it was. “After all, which of you does not understand the burdens of being a parent, of being… a new mother.”
Silence then, total and utter silence. Now Celestia did what she did best, she plastered on a patient, charming, and holy innocent smile and watched as the proverbial cigarette dropped onto a hypothetical kerosene trail and the whole crowd metaphorically exploded.
Elsewhere in the castle…
Princess Luna’s morning started like most ponies’ mornings, staring blankly into a cup of black coffee, waiting for the blasted thing to cool enough so she could guzzle it down in one go, all the while wondering if she should just call in sick for work.
The only problem with that was that she only had one other co-worker. One who worked in the same home as her and Luna had already used up her sick leave for the next thousand years.
She was not by nature a morning person, but not for the reason some ponies thought she was. Some pony's assumed that as the princess of the night, she would be nocturnal, a princess of the moon rose with her charge, right? But of course that was silly, if that was the case, how would she work her dream magic? Would she be asleep by day and in a transient magically engulfed state of mind by night? How would she ever eat or bathe if she was effectively asleep both day and night?
How would she have any real relationship with her sister or anypony at all for that matter? Who would wait until three am to come to court? No, Luna was, like most other ponies, diurnal. She woke with her sister's sun and did her job in seclusion as she liked best. Then, at night, she worked the dreamscape in her own lucid sleep. Scouring her charges dreams and searching for negative emotions, and traumas. Such was her way.
Though to add some credence to the rumour, she did in fact sleep later than her sister. Having to raise the moon and meticulously redesign the sky by night meant she was up at least four hours longer than her older sibling. That made mornings rather difficult by default.
She slept little compared to the average pony, but she didn't mind, she was an artist, and this was her passion. She spent her mornings planning the new constellation out on paper. She knew her purpose, the moon and stars were her children and a caring mother she was to them, devoting half her time to them thanklessly and the other half to the ponies underneath them. Leaving none for herself.
Despite this however, she had no wish to change her life as it was now, she saw her beloved sister every day once more, she had a purpose once again and she had her life back, free from misguided bitterness and hatred, everything was perfect.
Well…almost perfect anyway. She had been gone for nearly a thousand years now, and annoyingly things like ‘progress and change’ hadn’t waited for her to come back, in fact, it seemed like they had kicked open the door and threw all she knew out the window the moment she landed on the moon.
It was hard enough learning the history of a thousand years gone by, let alone the social changes. Then there was that blasted new-fangled thing they called technology. Tinkering with metal in ways that pony kind should have left well alone.
Her eyes drew subconsciously towards the box with the hole in it, the one that had been called an “electric quill sharpener” and narrowed them with a look of deep suspicion. Its voracious metal maw had already devoured three of her favourite sketching quills without mercy. She had tried to rescue them, but its avarice would not be sated, her quills never stood a chance. But, it would be a cold day in Tartarus if it thought she would give it her fourth.
They called things like that progress, but she remembered what her grandfather had warned about progress. ‘Progress just means bad things happen faster and you bloody well outrun it before it bites your tail off.’
She understood the meaning all too well these days, even though she had to admit, he was never very good with sayings unless they were “charge for glory and death!” or “fight me you coward son of a donkey!” Oh, how she missed him dearly. They didn’t make stallions like him anymore.
Yes, some things stayed very much the same, things like her sister's free-loving peaceful ways that made her want to gag. The castle itself also hadn’t changed much either; even her room had been practically untouched, her sister had found it too hard to go in there, and the guilt of that still stung at Luna now.
Oh and also the whispers, those damned whispers had never left.
Not those of her other half, her bitter side, the Nightmare. No, it was the whispers of her charges, the whispers ponies made behind her back, the gossip, the nicknames. It had been a thousand years, yet already they had caught up to her, but now in a new fashion.
This time, instead of hearing these slights from the noble class, worms that they were. These whispers had been boldly printed out and put into something they called a newspaper.
One of them just the other day had called her ‘The Princess of Snoozing,’ another had read ‘The One Who Guards Us Behind Her Blanket,’ and of course the classic, ‘The Sleeping Beauty.’
Gossip columns, that is what Silver Tongue said they were called, wretched rags was her preferred term. Some of them she would have called straight-up treasonous. One of them dared to accuse her rump of being too big!
How dare it, her rump was made of steel, she had trained daily with her squires just last… thought after reading it she had idle and only because she wanted to herself, glanced back at herself then made a mental note to trot down to the training yard later that day.
She also made a mental note to have words with these so-called journalists, preferably right next to a large pit filled with snakes. If she could just get her sister to sign off on that idea somehow…
The first one on that last big list would be the very worst of these papers. The one they all seemed to hold in high regard, The Canterlot Express.
Her gaze fell upon the paper right in front of her, which read ‘Should We Be Governed by Bigots?’ The picture that accompanied was of her on stage at that stupid ceremony just a few days ago in that barren desert they called Griffonstone.
The words bigoted, speciesist, and separatist were used liberally in the article. She had had to look up what that had meant in the dictionary, they were new-fangled words, invented in the last one thousand years, and frankly, she was utterly shocked by their use.
Not by the meaning, no the meaning was fine, she had no problem with that. But what utterly shocked her was the negative connotation they seemed to convey. It seemed to denote that they were “bad words” and “bad things to be.” Apparently, in the last thousand years she was gone, it was now seen as "poor form" to be wary of one's enemies.
When in Tartarus’s name had this happened?!
She had been staring down at the article all morning, unable to make sense of it. It was like finishing a puzzle only to find out the picture wasn’t the same one on the box. It made no sense at all.
Surely it was no secret, the griffons had been fighting her people for hundreds of years, thousands even, they had been a war-hungry, barbarous species. Her grandfather, father and even herself, had had to fight hoof and horn in bitter, bloody wars for the sovereignty of her kind. Had every pony simply forgotten this?
Had they forgotten the sacrifice of their ancestors so that they were free to make up these stupid rags? So they could make up these stupid names to sully the fallen patriots that littered the fields of battle? Did they know what it felt like to stare at a light hawk brigade plunging down from the sky? With talons raised to gouge out your throat. Let them see that and then let’s see who calls who a bigot!
She slowly shook her head, sometimes it seemed as though she had still not quite awoken from the nightmare. Bad enough they could move freely in her lands, free to spy on her government, but worse that she had to suffer the indignity of ‘playing nice’ with those people in their quagmire of a country.
Suffering through their prattle, ears ringing with their harsh sounding made-up words and sat with their ‘iron willed’ Emperor. The only iron she had seen was in his spoon he held at dinner and even then he had needed help lifting to his beak.
But her sister had begged her and she was devoted to her family and her people. So she played nice, all the while her teeth clenched and her stomach turned, but she had done it, hadn’t she?
Now they had dared to call her a separatist, to insinuate that she had not been pleasant enough, what did these rags want from her, was she supposed to kiss their filthy paws?
How frankly embarrassing, that she would have to placate ponykind’s most bitter enemy. Her of all ponies, who had lost so much to those rodent chasers, who had lost her-
Luna let out a startled gasp as hot liquid coating her hooves, glancing down she noticed the remnants of her white coffee mug now in pieces against her desk. She realised she crushed it in her anger, black liquid seeped over the aligned papers on her desk and onto the floor.
She gave a tired sigh. Oh, it was going to be this type of morning it seemed. She rose from her seating pillow to find one of her servants to clean it up. She had not gotten a few hooves away from her desk however when she stopped, as something odd caught her attention.
It wasn’t a thing per say, nothing jumped out at her, Nothing moved beyond her peripheral, no shadows shifted across the wall. In fact, it was that distinct lack of movement to the room that caught her attention. That heightened understanding of stillness and quietness was not something a normal pony would have noticed. But a ruler of a disaster-prone country developed the habit of spotting the one pony standing still in a moving crowd, the one staring at you and you alone, holding a knife behind his back, or worse yet, a document to sign.
Luna's brow crinkled, yes her room was far too quiet, she flashed her gaze around it, but could not see anything out of the ordinary. The curtains had no hooves sticking out from under them. The lampshades did not mysteriously sprout hair and sneeze suspiciously when you walked past them and there was no pony under the bed, she had made sure of that moons ago when she commanded the legs to be removed, she was not going to fall for that old gag again. Her assassins would have to try harder than that… assuming she still had assassins, sadly she probably didn’t.
It said much about the state of a country when a monarch did not have to worry about assassins, fields this country was falling to the dogs.
Then suddenly she heard a scratching sound. Her ears flicked in that direction at once towards the sound at the corner of her room. Across from her towards the walk-in wardrobe, a noise perforated through the two dark blue doors.
She stayed there poised to strike, but all she could hear then was silence. Then after she almost convinced herself it was nothing, the sound came again, this time louder than the first. Followed by another unusual sound, this time between a grunt and a moan. It wasn't something a stallion could make, nor a mare, it was too soft, too quiet, it was too...
Too cute?
Luna, her spilled coffee now forgotten, trotted towards the closet, her mind entirely focused on what the sound was. Clearing the distance to the doors, she leaned forwards against one of the frames and pressed an ear against the wood listening intently. A flicker of hope burned in her chest.
After all, sun and moon be praised, it could still have been an assassin?
When no sounds of blades being unsheathed came from the closet, she finally lit her horn and opened the doors, only to be greeted by another altogether unusual sound.
This one was unmistakable. It was the sound of a high-pitched giggle. Luna recognises it at once, it was a giggle only a foal could make.
Luna's eyes almost bulged out of her sockets. There was a foal in her closet!
"What in the fields above?" She mutters to herself.
The thoughts of how, what, where, and why, sprang instantly to her mind all at once. How did somepony sneak an infant into her room, what was it doing here of all places, where did it come from?
And more importantly, why her?
Not that she was as disturbed by that last part. It was no secret she loved foals. They never whispered behind her back or talked endlessly of taxes, they were candid, demanding, and sometimes rather brutally honest too. Traits she admired in a pony. She was many of those things herself after all.
Though on the subject of foals, it had to be said she was quite frankly shocked by their lack of education, the fact that a foal could reach the age of ten these days without even picking up a spear was frankly cruelty in her eyes
But at that moment the idea of why she was in her undergarments was more insidious.
Lighting her horn, the doors of her wardrobe opened softly, Luna peered into it scanning the pitch-black room.
A dark sky-blue dress flickered outwards catching Luna's eye, pulled off the rack the dress crumpled over a tiny bassinet obscuring her view of the foal inside. It seems that the possible infant had pulled it down on itself as it played with the hem. She could assume that by the small bumps coming from the dress as the foal pushed up from underneath it.
Briefly, she questioned whether or not it could have been one of those ‘bring your progeny to work days.’ There would have to be questions raised about boundaries in the not-too-distant future.
She moved softly so as not to startle the infant. Luna decided against magic and spoke softly, "There, there little one, tis okay, we are here now." Luna whispered in a cooing fashion.
The laughter stopped and soon enough there was something like a whimper. Luna chuckled softly, a warm smile on her face. “I understand we would be upset as well if we woke up in someone’s undergarments,” Slowly she peeled back her crumpled dress only to feel the resistance of the foal who was still clinging to it, apparently unwilling to give up its new expensive blanket.
"Ahh tis a strong little one indeed!" Luna joked as she teased the blanket away playfully, “A fine warrior you will be little one, but we require our clothing back, or Ms. Rarity will not be too happy.” Luna cooed as she tugged again gently, “If you relinquish this to me little one, I know a my first disemboweling spear that would be just right for you to play-,” she stopped mid-sentence as a ripping sound echoed through the wardrobe, then a playful squawk, then she caught sight of tiny claws appeared through the fabric.
Luna flinched backwards at the sight, ripping the light fabric away from the infant's clutches in the process. The shock and force of it caused the thing inside to begin crying all at once, the sound echoing through the chambers.
But by then, Luna could barely hear it now, as she stared at the creature in her basket. Trying with all her might not to scream.
In a stunned daze, she backed away from the basket, colliding with the doorframe in her haste to move away as fast as possible all the while her gaze was fixed on the flailing infant. Its razor-sharp paws and claws scratched at the air as it wailed.
Her breath became quick and rapid, her mind retreating as memory flooded and took their place. She felt the phantom touch of the claw against her throat, felt those eyes staring death into hers, felt the pain as the blade cut across her cheek.
A shudder went through her very soul as her hoof flailed for the doors of the Wardrobe finally slamming them shut.
She stood there room blurring then lifted up a hoof, and promptly smacked herself across the muzzle. It seemed to work, the muddy field in her mind's eye was replaced with the palace once more. Torn and burning tents returned to cotton and feather-down bedding and the wailing of soldiers turned back to the wailing of an infant.
Though that latter one was not much better.
A figure burst into her room. Luna turned, watching it stumble on the edge of a carpet, despite one not being there before, watched as she slid across the room on it then promptly spun into the air and onto its muzzle. The sounds of a squeaking like a rubber ball being squeezed echoed through the chamber in place of a thud. Luna stared at the figure, at the mare with lipstick smeared into a jester's smile and, a maid's skirt up ended over her head revealing a cutie mark of a smiling and frowning mask stuck together.
The maid got up frantically, her eyes widened almost impossibly big as she locked eyes with Lunas, “oh uncle’s going to kill me.” she muttered in a high pitch whine. Luna recognised her instantly, it was one of her dear sisters' maids.
Luna's left eye twitched as blind rage tapped fear on the shoulder and told it to take a hike for a while. Seeing red she turned on the spot and stormed toward her balcony doors, nearly ripping them off their hinges as she stormed onto the veranda. There was only one pony that would dare have the audacity to do this to her.
The cool air did little to stem the inferno in her body, she knew in her heart that this had only one response.
She felt her royal voice form in her throat as she bellowed out the castle window.
It took several minutes to quiet down the crowd, Celestia stood there patiently, she had to admit to herself she was perhaps enjoying this a little too much.
When you reached your second millennia of age, you had to get your kicks where you could. After all, she had done almost everything else. But for some reason, shocking and pranking ponies still tickled her pink. It was one of her few little vices, besides stuffing her face with sugar.
This one though, the reaction to a thousand ponies all collectively picking up their jaws from the floor simultaneously, she had to admit, this was going to be hard to top.
Still, the questions flew at her, rabid for more information.
“How long has the princess been pregnant?”
“Who’s the father?”
“When were you planning to make this public?”.
“Has this been a royal cover-up, the people have a right to know?”
“Is the tax increase going to fix my potholes?”
But like all things, the high came too quickly and left too fast. Celestia finally raised her hoof to the sky and the crowd slowly began to settle once more. “My fellow ponies, I understand that this has been as much of a shock to you as it was to me when my sister came home with my new niece.”
After another bout of questions, Celestia calmly spoke over them. “As you all know, my sister has been lost to us for nearly a thousand years.” She left a dramatic pause, this one was genuine, “in which she spent on the moon alone, absence makes the heart grow fonder and over those years she had felt an ache not simply to be back home but to have what she thought she might never have, a family to call her own, an heir.”
She stared meaningfully into the crowd, “Being a member of the royal family means sacrificing our personal lives for duty. We do not bemoan this, we are proud to serve, nay, honoured to serve. But despite it all, we are still ponies at heart, we want what everypony would want, safety, happiness, love and family, though not all of us have the time for this.”
Unless you’re Cadence, she thought, which reminded her she really needed to start pushing the paperwork downstream a little. “The heart wants what it wants,” she said, reiterating something she had seen on the back of a postcard, “she had confided in me that she had been planning this for a long time, though it was still I will admit a happy shock to see it done so quickly.” She mentally thanked Silver Tongue for that assistance, for a stallion of his size he sure moved quickly or at least employed people who could.
More questions followed, but now most of them were simply listening, enraptured by the little insight into the ruler's lives not many knew of. Even if it was mostly fiction, Celestia glanced down at the speech, this would determine everything, not simply her life for the next one hundred years. But all the lives of everyone she knew. If this worked she would spare not simply one country but two from a disastrous fate.
“In her travels, she met many griffons, some royal, some simple folk, a lion working at a lumber mill, a mare who operated the clouds in conjunction with Couldsdale. All of them had left an impact on her. But none had as much as one single young cub bereft of a mother and a father tragically lost to her.” She let that pause simmer for a moment.
“This cub, living in an orphanage had nothing in her life save the kindness of strangers caring for her,” a pang of sympathy shot through her at that moment, she knew what it meant to be orphaned, but at least she had her sister, speaking of.
“To lose a loved one is no easy thing to bear, but to be so young, to have only just come into the world and have that which binds you to it, what brought you into it taken. That is the story that my sister heard, that is the story that fermented in her heart that the time to start a family was here and now. My sister is not a mare to let something like this pass her by.”
“Princess Luna, my sister is perhaps too brash at times, I am sure that some of you know this.” Once more she could see the nobles and some of the Royal guards sharing knowing glances. “Perhaps, this is not enough of an excuse for her actions in Griffonstone, but please if you do not forgive her for what you might have heard, then at least understand her plight. After all, adopting a young foal is hard enough,” She paused then allowed herself a genuine giggle, “Well in fact that is the incorrect term as my sister has in fact adopted a hatchling.” Silently out of the corner of her mouth, she muttered, “against her will.”
Several hundreds of mouths sucked in a breath at the same time, reporters' quills broke against scrolls and in the noble stands, there was a tinkering of glass as several monocles fell into brandy glasses.
Celestia's smile was serene, but inside she was rolling on the floor in a fit of laughter, “I understand the confusion my little ponies, I too was stunned, when I heard the news myself.” Stunned into a murderous rage, by sisters' actions, more accurately but stunned nonetheless.
“But I have spoken for far too long,” She added quickly before more questions could be asked, any one of which could bring down this house of cards before she had even built the base, “I am sure you are all eager to see your newest princess, my sister has graciously allowed me to bring here hear today, though I ask you all to please keep your voice down she is still only young after all.” She said looking back towards the curtains of the stage.
A guard behind her saluted and pulled back the curtains, all eyes fell upon a small table on which stood a basket, not unlike one might use to pick apples. Inside the bundle, there was a blanket drawn over the top covering the opening.
Celestia's brow raised slightly as she stared at it. Perhaps at that moment, she should have noticed something was wrong, for instance, Silver Tongue's niece should have been with the basket for a start. But she was nowhere to be seen. What’s more, the blanket was still over the basket and a neat bow had been fixed on it, like it was a gift box.
Celestia fought back an uneasy smile as she glanced back towards the crowd, “it seems my little niece is shy.” She joked, there was general laughter from the crowd. “If you would bring her to me please.” She said, indicating from the Dias to the guard who had pulled back the curtain, he saluted and moved over towards the basket.
There were the sounds of thousand necks craning upwards to see, followed by some of the more desperate ones flapping their wings, even some of the guards, the less subtle ones were staring at the corner of their eyes.
The guard in question moved towards the basket and lifted the blanket up. Then after a moment, to everyone’s surprise, Celestia’s most of all, instead of taking the basket to her, he put the blanket back down over it and marched back towards her.
The crowd began to mutter as Celestia lent down, extending an ear towards him. The stallion, usually a stern man by nature, leaned in and in a cracked voice said, “Um, She’s not their princess, in fact, there’s just a… cake.”
Celestia furrowed her brow, looked back at the basket, then back at the crowd all of whom had gone deadly quiet, “Nothing to worry about everyone, I’ll only be a moment, she’s playing hide and seek it seems.”
Celestia did her best not to run as she made her way to the basket, she tried her best to block the view with her body as she lit her horn and moved the blanket away. Instead of her niece, there was indeed a cake, with pink frosted writing that said Congratulations on the new baby Lulu.
Celestia didn’t have time to feel fear, didn’t have time to feel panic. Because in that nanosecond before the world around her exploded. She had just enough time to look upwards and remember in that instant that she was not the only immortal being out there that enjoyed getting a rise out of others. Then, after that nanosecond had passed, a voice of pure vengeance punctured the sky, loud enough to somehow shake the very clouds themselves.
“SISTER GET THINE ENORMOUS BEHIND OVER HERE, NOW!”
It seemed despite their best efforts, Luna had already met her new daughter.