Pray Tell: Who Inscribed All These Bollocks Upon The Walls?
They're Natural Jarheads, I Tell You
“…now, while I could tell you about the windows in this place for hours, I think I know something a little more interesting than the glazing.”
The old teacher looked over his class – senior high-school history – and, with pleasure, noticed all the enthusiastic faces, each marked with rapt attention. While most of his students, as always, showed some reluctance to go and visit Canterlot Castle for what was usually the third time (once as youngsters, capped off with a “surprise” visit from the monarch herself; once as preteens in a rather more academic and thus terminally dull historical tour) he prided himself at making this visit special nonetheless. Naturally, as his pupils were teenagers, this was by liberally peppering his narration with oft-naughty and always obscure tidbits; the little door across the hall from Celestia’s where a consort apparently once lived, a secluded closet that was notorious for being the designated surreptitious hook-up spot between on-duty guards and maids looking for quickies, and the like.
But his favorite was next.
“Miss Contrail?” Picking the right target was imperative; the more easily flustered the better, and the geeky little cream-coated pegasus was perfect.
“Y-yes, teacher?” she responded, already a little off-balanced from the earlier factoids in the tour.
“Miss Contrail, would you mind peeking behind the bottom-right corner of that tapestry across the hall and telling me what you see?”
“S-sure, Mr. Hoofnotes.” She turned around, but turned her head back, worried. “It’s not something, um, scary back there, is there? I-I don’t do well with scary.”
“Scary? No, not really.” He gave a gentle smile. “I can assure you, it’s nothing to be afraid of, Contrail.”
“O-okay.” Apparently satisfied with that answer, she stepped towards the tapestry, hooves clicking against the floor of the palace.
This was, unquestionably, the best part. He’d done this so many times, with so many peevish young stallions and fillies, that he knew exactly how they would react – cautious steps towards the enormous tapestry, then an extended forehoof, then, with agonizing slowness, the peeling away of the tapestry, always followed with a magnificent –
“Eeeek!”
There it was.
The little pegasus’ face flushed scarlet, and her squeaking only subsided from the placement of her wings essentially in her mouth as she tried to not embarrass herself further.
As the class erupted into laughter, he, with raised eyebrow, interrogated the flustered student. “Well, Miss Contrail? What did you see back there?”
She shook her head, eyes wide and stammering. “M-mister Hoofnotes, it’s–”
“Yes, Miss Contrail?” He shook a hoof, admonishing her with false sternness. “Miss Contrail, you will not receive a full participation grade if you don’t tell the class what lies behind that tapestry.”
“–B-but Mister Hoofnotes, it’s all, um, it’s all–”
“–Ah, forget this, teach! She’s never gonna get it out.” One of his students, a burly and eminently jocky unicorn stallion named “Stalwart Bulwark” and who might as well have had “primo guard material” tattooed onto his forehead, had had enough. He trotted over to the tapestry, gently gesturing for Contrail to get out of the way and taking a look himself. “And it can’t be that – PFFFFFT!” He nearly doubled over, clownishly hamming it up as teenage stallions were so wont to do. “Ha! You’ve gotta be kidding me!”
“Very well, Mr. Bulwark, if you would like to help out Miss Contrail, you may do so; but in that case you must yourself tell the class what you see.”
“Yeah, sure teach!” Bulwark, with a gleeful, disbelieving smile, lit his horn, pulling the bottom half of the enormous tapestry away from the wall and revealing the treasures beneath. “It’s just full of dicks!”
The class broke into gasps, turning to their teacher in confusion as to why he would allow such a crass comment to go without reprimand.
The pièce de résistance, practiced so many times. A beat, then “Well? It is, as he said so crudely, full of dicks, after all.”
The class turned back to the tapestry, straining to see what lie beneath.
Sure enough, under the now-clearly necessary tapestry was a veritable bouquet of penises; dozens, at least. They weren’t all identical, of course; size and length varied, and whereas some stood proudly and nobly in defiance of a watcher’s gaze, others drooped flaccidly, obviously unable to take the strain of so many viewers.
One by one, as the students comprehended what they were seeing, they themselves broke into blushes and laughter.
After a few moments to let them get it out of their system, the teacher put his narration voice back on, quieting his class by talking over them. “Yes, yes, it’s quite the sight, isn’t it? An entire wall full of phalluses?”
The class nodded along, mostly shushing up.
He walked over to the tapestry, taking over the suspension of the tapestry with his own horn and field. “But! I did not solely show these to you for fun, although I admit it is very fun.” He shook his head. “No, I would draw your attention to some of these drawings, especially–” he made four pointers with his field, drawing arrows to four of the inscribed genitals. “–these four.”
The class looked between the indicated pieces of graffiti, each one a little different in shape, size, and presentation.
“These all look fairly different, but we can tell something about all these drawings by looking at these. Would anyone like to volunteer?”
One of the students raised a hoof, a bright young Earth pony stallion. “There’s no chisel marks!”
“Excellent! Would you like to elaborate as to why that is important?”
“Because if somepony was going along and scratching these into the walls, we’d see mistakes, right? Scratches outside the lines.”
“Which means?”
“Which means,” the student proudly continued, “that whoever is putting these on the walls is using magic, right?”
“Very good!” The teacher beamed, genuinely very proud of the observation. “Anypony else?”
“Yeah!” A mare this time. “It kinda looks like it was all the same … artist, I guess? ‘Cause, like, they’re all different, but they’re all really cleanly done, and we don’t see any, um, decoration?”
“Yes, exactly! Very astute.” The teacher nodded. “While there are differences in vision, we see this same sort of very neat geometric style on virtually all known specimens, which means that the same thing is responsible for all of these. Any guesses as to what?”
“The guards?”
The teacher shook his head. “It’s too tall; most of them would place them closer to eye level. Think a little more esoterically.”
“Uh, was it that freaky snake thing out in the courtyard?”
“Discord? No, it wasn’t, as the castle wasn’t even extant until after his imprisonment.”
“Okay, well, is it a curse then? Like somepony cursed the princess?”
“Likely, yes, as such glyphs have been found in earlier residences of the princess as well.” He began to pace back and forth. “Now, as to who placed the curse? That’s a question scholars have been debating for years. The original suspect was…”
“…and that’s the throne room finished, sister.”
Reincorporating one’s sister into society after a thousand years of exile wasn’t really a task anypony could be prepared for, but Celestia was trying her damned hardest.
She had remembered to bring snacks for the palace tour, at least.
“W-we thank you,. ‘Tia, earnestly.” Luna, still downtrodden and with a bit of mayonnaise at the corner of her mouth, barely raised her eyes above her own hooves.
Celestia continued her best effort to preserve her serene smile, but it was clear that it would take more than white bread and the world’s finest condiment to get her sister to lower her guard. She lay her head gently across her sister’s withers. “Sister, I know it’s going to be hard. Mother knows I can’t even imagine what you are feeling right now, but know that I will try my best to make this as pleasant as possible.” She lifted her sister’s chin with a forehoof. “And know always that whatever questions you may have, no matter how seemingly unnecessary, I will answer.”
Luna averted her gaze. “N-not really, we do not have any questions worthy of thine attention.”
“'Worthy?' Luna, you don't have to justify your questions, silly.” Celestia affectionately tussled her little sister’s ethereal mane. “Now go on, stop worrying and ask away.”
“Well, it is, er–” Luna bit her lip. “There was a certain … juvenile and crass practice which we do remember us performing with much gusto, once upon a time.”
Of course. Celestia knew what her sister was talking about, but persisted in teasing her anyway, which, as siblings, was only natural. “Juvenile and crass, sister? There were so many things we did in our wilder days, sister. What, exactly, are you referring to?”
“Oh, thou knoweth!” Luna huffed, some of her old fire coming back. “Maketh us not go into crude details.”
“I do maketh, Luna.”
“Ugh!” Luna, after a moment of adorable pouting and a glance around her surroundings to ensure that there was nopony in hearing distance, leaned in closer. “We refer, of course, to our … artistic endeavors?”
“Heavens, Luna!” Celestia chuckled softly, eyebrows lowered into an outwardly serious matronly scold. “Surely you do not refer to our once-proclivity to inscribe the walls of our palaces with depictions of genitals?”
“N-no! Of course not!” Luna squeaked, embarrassed by the seemingly chastising reply by her sister. “‘Tis the farthest thing from–”
Celestia tutted. “Because, Luna, I would hate for you to think I have matured so little in the thousand years as to persist in doing that.”
Luna took another step back, wide-eyed and cowering. “No, forgive us sister! W-we did not mean offense–”
“I’m joking, Luna.” Celestia interrupted her sister, smiling broadly in the classic “gotcha” face of an insufferable sibling. “Of course I still draw penises on the walls. It wouldn’t be my castle if I didn’t draw penises on the walls.”
Luna sat there for a moment, then, after pursing her lips in yet another adorable face, this time of rage, stamped a forehoof. “Thou art naught but a cad!” she huffed. “Thou lie, and revel in our misery!”
“I can’t help it, Luna; you’re adorable when you pout.”
“We are not!”
“You are.” Celestia leaned over, placing herself face-to-face with her shorter sister. “But I am sorry to have caused you distress. Would it make you feel better to draw some dicks on the wall?”
Luna brightened back up. “V-verily? You were not lying about that?”
“Of course not, Luna. I would never lie about something as important as that.” She shook her head. “No, Luna, I assure you, I very much still do exactly what we used to. In the nine hundred and forty three years I have lived here, I have drawn, on average, exactly one penis on the wall per week, resulting in fifty thousand penises, give or take.”
Luna looked around. “Where?”
“I’ve gotten stealthier about my placement. I’ll give you a hint; the tapestries mostly are there to block out my drawings.” She stood up, trotting over to her throne. “And I’ve gotten stealthier about placing them too. Would you like to see?”
Luna nodded, following her sister over to the throne.
Celestia lifted the cushion in her field, gesturing to the unmarred surface below. “Look, Luna.”
Luna peered in. “‘Tis nothing, sister.” She looked back up to Celestia. “Art we missing something?”
Celestia's horn lit, just for a flash. “Look again.”
Luna looked back at the throne, seeing, much to her shock, a freshly inscribed flaccid willy, etchings still smoking faintly from magical efforts.
“Oh yes, I’ve gotten very good indeed.” Celestia smiled proudly. “In the midst of a conversation about state? While conversing with my subjects? A quick flash of the horn and I’ve added to my collection.”
Luna, after a moment of open-mouthed shock, squealed in glee, dancing softly on the carpet. “Oh, sister, ‘tis outstanding news! For we have not been idle in our development either, and now we can compare our output just like in days yore!"
“Oh?” Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”
“Well, we, whilst stuck in exile with naught to do but ruminate, did discover a method by which one can create disturbances of gravity with which to focus beams of light into contiguous streams, enabling one to use their forces over immense distance.”
“How’d you come around to figuring that out?”
Luna gave a sheepish smile. “Well, we, er, were trying to find a way with which to decapitate you from the distance of our exile to here.”
“…Ah.” Celestia sniffed once. “And we presume it didn’t work?”
“Not at the distances required, no. The light breaks apart.” Luna brightened back up. “But! We did find that it does allow us to mark things at a great distance, which means that we can partake in the time-honored tradition at greater ranges than ever!”
“Oh yeah?” Celestia sat back onto her haunches, amused by her sister’s pride. “How far?”
Luna gestured over her shoulder with a wing. “Doth thou see the group of ponies visible through the gap in the ajar throne room door?’
Celestia squinted, using all the natural ability granted to her by her alicorn constitution. Sure enough, a group of ponies was just barely visible through that scant crack. “We do.”
Luna smirked, horn lighting and light-distorting ellipsoids whirring into place before her horn. “Then we beseech thou; observe!”
“…and that would disqualify Star Swirl from being the most likely subject, although it cannot be ruled out completely.” The teacher held up a hoof. “Any questions about that?”
Nopony raised a hoof; evidently, their hunger for knowledge had been sated.
“Excellent!” He let his magic drop the tapestry back down. “Now, let’s move on to the–”
“FIZZ-CRACK!”
With a start, the teacher turned around, just in time to dodge the smoldering bottom half of the tapestry. As it fell away, it revealed a frankly astonishing sight; an enormous turgid penis, at least three times the size of any other member on the wall, complete with a pendulous set of attached testes, intricately detailed venation, and, in a truly inspired addition, a spray of ejaculate from the front, all done in a far curvier and more delicate hoof than every other fellow phallus on the wall.
It was magnificent.
“Oh my goddess, it even has wrinkles.” Even as the class gasped behind him, the teacher took a few steps back, taking in the brand-new sight with mouth agape. “It’s – it’s–” he turned around “–class, do you know what this is?”
The class remained silent. After a moment, the jock from earlier piped up. “A, like, huge Johnson?”
“Besides that!” The teacher was almost panting in joy. “This is a Type B manifestation!” He raised a hoof, tracing the details. “I wrote my Master’s on these! The intricate detailing? The lighter linework? Nothing like this has been seen since the Castle of the Two Sisters! It’s been a thousand years!”
As the class gazed onward in something between mute horror and stunned amazement, he turned back around, looking left and right for a responsible party. “But why now?” he mused to himself. “What could have changed since–”
At once, he spotted two ponies through the crack in the enormous doors in front of him – by the size, it could only be the Princess and her sister. He’d heard about her return, of course; some kind of manifestation in a podunk town's festival, as he understood it, but he frankly hadn’t truly believed it until now. Just imagine! A whole new princess, not the short kind like Cadenza but a real princess, as ancient as her sister. And what a return! To come back after a thousand years in exile? It almost defied–
A thousand years.
The other style.
The Castle of the Two Sisters.
A gasp. “Oh my gods.”
Through the scant view afforded to them, Celestia and Luna watched the bottom half of the tapestry fall away, revealing a truly gargantuan wiener.
Luna, ears flattened, sheepishly turned to her sister.
Celestia smacked a hoof into her face. "Subtle."
Author's Note
I cannot believe the most sympathetic representation of the princesses I've ever written is in a story about drawing dicks.
