[MOONDAY] Night Court


                                            Some Anons in the /Moon/day thread were discussing silly questions regarding Luna on Google auto-complete. I made a quick short out of it.


                                            ---


                                            >You often ponder whether or not a thousand years of banishment was really the worst thing Celestia could have done.

                                            >And after holding Night Court for the last week or so, you have decided that being pressured to hold Night Court was probably worse than a millennium of stasis.

                                            >"Princess Luna, I appreciate that you are growing frustrated, but these are pressing questions that ponies need answers to."

                                            "And how," you say as you drag a hoof down your face, stretching the bags under your eyes, "is whether or not I am 'heavier' than my dear sister a matter of significance worthy of the royal court?"

                                            >"It is not for us to decide that, princess; we merely relay the most pressing matters of the day to you, and at the moment this is what ponies wish to know."

                                            "Canterlot ponies, or ponies from all over Equestria?"

                                            >"From all over, your highness."

                                            "Very well," you suck in a deep breath, then let it out, "proceed."

                                            >"Will you be attending the gala this year?"

                                            "Yes."

                                            >"Are you going to be wearing a green dress?"

                                            "No."

                                            >"What is your cutie mark?"

                                            "A crescent moon."

                                            >"Why is it not a full moon?"

                                            "Fate alone knows."

                                            >"Is Princess Celestia your mother?"

                                            "I... No, she is not."

                                            >"Is Lauren Faust your mother?"

                                            "I don't know who that is."

                                            >"Are you dead?"

                                            >You stare at the royal herald for a long time.

                                            >He waits patiently for your response.

                                            "...No, I am not dead."

                                            >"Do you have a coltfriend?"

                                            "Not currently."

                                            >"Will you be my marefriend?"

                                            "...Was that a proposition, herald, or merely one of the inquests?"

                                            >"That was one of the inquests, your highness."

                                            "No."

                                            >"Will you be my marefriend?"

                                            "You already--"

                                            >"That one was actually me."

                                            "The answer is still no."

                                            >"Are you allergic to the sun?"

                                            "No."

                                            >"How many hooves am I holding up?"

                                            >He holds up a single hoof.

                                            "One."

                                            >"And how many hooves am I holding up -now-?"

                                            >He hides his hoof behind his head.

                                            "...Still one."

                                            >"She's good," he mutters under his breath.

                                            >Your eyes drift to the small alarm clock you had taken to having beside your throne.

                                            >Hours yet remain of the Night Court.

                                            >You repress a shudder and look back to the herald.

                                            >"Is the sun your fetish?"

                                            "No."

                                            >"Have you ever kissed Celestia."

                                            "N--... No."

                                            >He cocks an eyebrow at you.

                                            >You glare at him.

                                            >He gulps and continues on.

                                            >"Is Princess Cadence your daughter?"

                                            "Certainly not."

                                            >"Is Shining Armor your son?"

                                            "No."

                                            >"When is your birthday?"

                                            >You manage a small smile.

                                            "The twelfth day of January."

                                            >"What is your last name?"

                                            "Imperia."

                                            >"How old are you?"

                                            "Older than you, child."

                                            >"...Princess Luna--"

                                            "You ought not ask a lady her age, herald; it is considered rude."

                                            >"R-right."

                                            >He looks down at his list, and blinks.

                                            >For a while he regards it dumbly, not sure what to say.

                                            "Is there a problem, herald?"

                                            >"I, uh, n-not as such?"

                                            "Is the question inappropriate?"

                                            >"Not really, well I'm not sure, actually."

                                            >You let out a weary sigh.

                                            "Ask it."

                                            >He wets his lips and looks up at you.

                                            >"...Are you autistic?"

                                            >You take a deep, calm breath through your nose, and gently let it out past your lips.

                                            "No, herald, I am not autistic."

                                            >"...Are you sure--"

                                            >The alarm clock, briefly airborne on account of a rush of blue magic, smashes dead-centre in the middle of his forehead with a resounding 'clang'; cogs, sprockets, and springs showering the floor as he drops to the tiles with a yelp.

                                            >You rise from your throne and address the stunned guards and few remaining nobles that had yet to speak in a frosty tone.

                                            "Night Court has ended. It will resume tomorrow evening at the same time. I trust you will not bother me with inane questions?"

                                            >The nobles all nod hastily.

                                            "Good. Have a pleasant evening."


                                            "I am pleased to see you in good health, herald."

                                            >The royal herald sways slightly, the off-white gauze wrapped tightly around his head and secured with a giant safety pin stands in stark contrast to his grey coat and dusky blue mane.

                                            >"Glad to... glad to still be here, Princess Luna."

                                            >You nod at him and straighten your back, assessing the room.

                                            "Shall we begin with the night's inquests?"

                                            >He nods, wincing slightly, and waving forward the first noble.

                                            >An older stallion, dressed in the sort of finery one would expect of the aristocracy, stands before you confidently.

                                            >He holds his top hat in the crook of his foreleg and clears his throat, addressing you in a pleasingly straight-forward manner.

                                            >"Princess Luna, thank you for allowing me this opportunity to speak."

                                            "You are most welcome, subject; I trust that my counsel will be of use to you."

                                            >"I believe it will. The Canterlot Chamber of Commerce has convened to discuss recent developments following your reappearance; it seems that with her highness' presence, ponies have a renewed interest in night-time activities, and this presents an opportunity to capitalise; done properly, this will bolster local businesses within Canterlot, as well as provide an increase to tax revenue for the royal coffers."

                                            >You allow a small smile, pleased to finally be addressing something important.

                                            "I would be most interested to hear your proposals, my good stallion. What do you wish to know?"

                                            >"The Chamber is still discussing the specifics, and it may be some days before we decide on a collective plan of action, but until then we had but one question of great importance we needed your appraisal of."

                                            "Of course! Ask away."

                                            >"Would you rather fight one dragon-sized Celestia, or a hundred parasprite-sized Celestias?"

                                            >...

                                            >The stallion is limply dragged out of the chamber by a pair of royal guardsponies en route to the infirmary, his formerly well-shaped hat now securely up his bottom.

                                            >You scowl at the room before you, your good mood effectively ruined.

                                            >The herald clears his throat nervously.

                                            >Your eyes narrow at him.

                                            >"If... If it would please her highness, there are thirty one more subjects to be seen this evening."

                                            >The next noble steps forth timidly, flashing you a fearful grimace as your eyes bore into him.

                                            >Though your voice is low, all in the room hear you as you softly utter:

                                            "Begin."


                                            >"Are you a unicorn?"

                                            "No."


                                            >"Are you Nightmare Moon?"

                                            "Not... not anymore."


                                            >"Why did you make friends with Nightmare Moon?"

                                            "Did you not hear the last pony? She was I, but I am not she, anymore."


                                            >"Why did your hair change?"

                                            "It took a few days for my form to revert to its ordinary mature state upon my return from banishment."


                                            >"What was it like on the moon?"

                                            "I was not -on- the moon, I was magically sealed within it."


                                            >"What does the moon taste like?"

                                            "I do not know."


                                            >"Why are you so popular?"

                                            "I... I was not aware that I was."

                                            >You glance away from the mare before you and look uncertainly to the herald.

                                            >He gives you a reassuring nod and a smile, wincing slightly as he does so.

                                            >You feel a faint blush and clear your throat into a hoof, trying not to let it show.

                                            "Thank you for letting me know, my dear lady."

                                            >"You're most welcome, your highness."

                                            "Do you require anything else?"

                                            >"Oh! Yes, one more thing."

                                            "Oh?"

                                            >"How old are you?"


                                            >"How many alarm clocks do you have, and please can you throw one at me like you did at that mare just now?"

                                            "I had but a single clock tonight, but there shall be more, I assure you."


                                            >"What is your favourite colour?"

                                            "Blue."


                                            >"Would you rather explode or drown?"

                                            "What in the blazes...?"


                                            >"How many foals do you think you could beat up at once?"

                                            >You stare in silence at the stallion before you.

                                            >Then put a hoof to your chin as you find yourself seriously considering how many you could take in a fight.


                                            >"Are you my mother?"

                                            "No. I have no children."

                                            >"Could I call you 'mommy' anyway?"

                                            "Guard!" you shout to your side, "Get me another alarm clock!"


                                            >"If I have three apples, and I eat two apples, how many apples am I left with?"

                                            "...One?"

                                            >"Oooh!" the filly nods excitedly and scribbles down her answer on her homework sheet.

                                            "How did you even get in? Who granted this filly an audience; herald?!"


                                            >"How many foals do you think you could take in a fight?"

                                            "We've already--... Twenty thousand. More if I was fully-armoured."

                                            >"Nice."


                                            >"Are you bad?"

                                            "I was."

                                            >"Why are you not bad anymore?"

                                            "Because being bad is... bad."

                                            >"Why is bad, bad?"

                                            "Bad is bad because bad is bad."

                                            >"Baddy bad?"

                                            "Bad badda bad."

                                            >"Babdadbad"

                                            "Babb-- what devilry is this-- guards! Arrest her for witchcraft!"


                                            >"How are you?"

                                            >...

                                            >You blink and cock your head.

                                            >The last noble stands before you.

                                            >A slight, rather old stallion; dressed in simple clothes compared to his predecessors.

                                            >He waits patiently for you to answer, and when you do not he ventures his question again.

                                            >"I, uh, I said how are you?"

                                            "I am... well. I am doing well."

                                            >"Are you glad to be back with your sister?"

                                            >A faint smile graces your lips.

                                            "I am."

                                            >"Did you miss her?"

                                            "I... did. I missed her very much."

                                            >"I'm glad you came back, Princess. It's nice to see that Princess Celestia is smiling again."

                                            >You frown at him.

                                            "What do you mean?"

                                            >He shrugs and glances around at the now largely empty room.

                                            >"She was always smiling before, but as long as I've lived here it always seemed forced; like she was acting happy just to keep the rest of us at peace. Now that you're back, it's the first time I've ever seen her genuinely smile."

                                            >...

                                            >"Princess Luna?"

                                            >Your head hangs low, and you desperately try not to let the noble see the tears welling in your eyes.

                                            >It doesn't work, and you can't help but let out a small sob.

                                            >You hear movement, and glance up again to see both he and the herald, as well as a few of your personal guard, standing at the foot of the dais, regarding you with worry.

                                            >"Are you alright?" the noble asks once more, his voice soft, and tender eyes searching.

                                            >You give them all a quivering smile.

                                            "Y-yes, I'm... I'm fine."

                                            >Your smile stretches wider, and you let out an involuntary laugh, the first you've had in a very long time.

                                            "I think I'm going to be fine."


                                            The End.