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.