Nom de Plume

by Pascoite

Rating: everyone
Tags: Spike, Comedy, Owlowiscious, Twilight Sparkle, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 2605

Spike has entirely too much fun writing

Spike would like to indulge in a little late-night storytelling. If he could just get a little bit of privacy, he might churn out his masterwork. A sharp quill, a bottle of ink, and a head full of ideas. If only that owl would mind his own business.

Featured on Equestria Daily!

Thanks to Uma for rough draft feedback.

Published 2012-11-18 05:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-11-18 05:10:01 UTC

Nom de Plume

Spike huddled at a desk in the nook under the library’s staircase, hunching his shoulders up to shield his scroll from as much of the room as possible. The light from the scattered candles spilled out the windows, overwhelming the glow of the full moon that hung high in the sky. Jerking his head up toward a sudden rustling of feathers, Spike held his breath and eyed Owlowiscious, who blinked a few times before returning his attention to a stack of returned books.

“We had a deal,” Spike said, covering his pages with both arms. “You stay on your own side of the room, and I’ll do your filing work tomorrow night. Remember?”

Owlowiscious turned his head straight backwards. It always creeped Spike out when he did that. Owlowiscious picked at a few feathers on his back, hooted, and returned to his work.

“You better not be copying me!” After a few surreptitious glances back over his shoulder, Spike soon became absorbed in his scattered sheets of paper again. A steady stream of subdued giggles floated away as he looped his quill across the top page in his neat, flowing script. His teeth clenched in a giddy smile, he glanced up occasionally to survey the room and make sure nopony would intrude upon his personal space.

The gallant and youthful dragon smote the last of the marauding changelings, swishing his rapier through the air with a flourish. “A plague upon thee!” hissed the last of his vanquished foes with its final breath.

Sheathing his weapon, Sir Lance drew a forearm across the wound on his cheek. The huddled nobles need not witness any further trace of blood. “Forsooth, I am truly sorry that I should undertake such a messy business within these hallowed halls, but alas, my adversary hath left me no recourse.”

Stellestia rose to her hooves and stepped out from among the crowd of ponies cowering behind the last vestiges of the Royal Guard. “Thou hast saved us all from certain demise, hero! Whatever thou desirest for a reward, thou hast but to name it,” quoth the grateful Princess.

“A mere touch of thy lips would prove ample remuneration, my liege,” the dragon said, drawing his arm across his body in a sweeping bow. A bold ploy, but his humble pose and unwavering expression hinted at no sport. Surely, she must see the earnestness of his request.

She raised his chin with a hoof and pressed her muzzle to him, perhaps a little longer than protocol might dictate. A few startled gasps escaped from the assembled peerage as she finally broke contact. Panting, the Princess raised a hoof to fan her flushed face. “Methinks ’twill not be the last such reward,” Stellestia said, a sly smile playing across her features.

“Heh. That one is so money,” Spike said as he rolled the scroll up and added it to a growing pile. He picked through the dish of gems beside him, avoiding all of the bland topazes and aquamarines that dominated these bargain-brand snack mixes. A tiny flash of blue caught his eye, and he soon snared the last spinel between two claw tips. He popped it in his mouth and bit down, his eyes watering as he shuddered. “Whoa! Those’ll clear out your sinuses!” He wheezed a few times, then cupped a claw over his mouth, his cheeks puffing out. “Don’t... wake... Twi...” he mumbled.

He pulled over another half-full sheet of paper and rested his chin on a claw. In his other, he took a dry quill and scratched the nib at his lower lip, rolling his eyes upward. “Let’s see, where to go with this one...”

“Spike?”

He froze, his spine rigid and his teeth clenched. “What is it, Twilight?” he said, forcing a grin as he heard the sound of hooves descending the staircase.

“You’re still up? It’s important to get a good night’s sleep at your age. What are you doing, anyway?” Twilight paused halfway down the stairs to rub her eyes.

“Nothing, nothing!” Shooting out of his chair, Spike ran over toward the bottom step. “Just catching up on some paperwork. Why, what do you need?”

She squinted at him in the candlelight and raised an eyebrow. “Just getting a glass of water. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes!” he replied, scrambling for the kitchen. “Here, let me get that for you. It’s no problem.”

Twilight’s other eyebrow joined its elevated twin as Spike lost sight of her. He rummaged around for a glass, hastily filled it from the faucet, and rushed back out, emerging with her drink balanced on a small tray, a towel draped over his wrist, and a haughty expression on his face. “Your beverage, madame,” he crooned, keeping his eyes closed and his nose directed at the ceiling.

She rolled her eyes upward and levitated the glass up the stairs with her. “Whatever you’re up to, just try to keep the mess to a minimum, okay?”

Spike’s toothy smile slowly faded as he heard her tread across the upstairs floorboards and flop onto the mattress. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked over to where Owlowiscious peered down from atop a bookcase. “What?” The owl’s irritatingly stoic expression stared back. “Don’t you have some dusting to finish? And no fair stealing my ideas! I see you peeking!”

Resuming his seat at the desk, Spike picked up the dry quill again and scratched behind his ear with it. “Where was I...?” He scowled at the offending incomplete paragraph before him, then broke into a grin as he dipped the quill in his bottle of ink.

The well-muscled dragon ducked through a small gap in the fence, then slumped against the rough boards on the other side, seeking what little shade they might provide. He took off his hardhat and set it on the sidewalk beside him, letting it wobble around as he wiped a forearm across his brow. A soft nuzzle against his cheek made him jerk to attention. “You... here? What would your father say?”

“I don’t care. He can take his old-fashioned sensibilities and... and...” Fighting back a sob, Stellestia flung her forelegs around Lance’s neck. “I just wish daddy could see that what we have is special!”

He gave her a little squeeze in return, but then pushed her back. “Whoa, whoa! I’m all dirty. I don’t want you to get any on your nice dress. The forepony’s gonna kill me if I don’t get back to work in a few minutes anyway.” She looked away, a few tears dotting the pavement, but he turned her chin back toward him. “Look—we’ll make this work. Somehow. We’ll talk when my shift’s over. Okay?” He let his eyes drift halfway closed as he gave her a soft smile.

After a moment of silent consideration, she nodded, then leaned forward and kissed him, giggling as she watched his expression turn giddy. She stole another kiss before trotting off and winking at Lance over her shoulder.

“Careful, now,” he called after her. “A high-class mare like you could meet up with trouble in this neighborhood.” He followed her progress into the sky, a dreamy smile firmly fixed in place.

“She’s a good kid,” interrupted a voice through the hole in the fence, causing Lance to jump. “Heart o’ gold, and can raise the sun to boot. Don’t find one of those every millenium.”

Lance sighed and turned toward the unshaven face smiling at him. “Yeah, she’s one of a kind.” He let a moment of silence pass. “I know. Break’s over,” he said.

In a fit of giggles, Spike looked up from his writing. “Heh. ‘...can raise the sun to boot...’ Where do I come up with these?” He stopped laughing abruptly when he saw the pair of large, impassive eyes watching him from the kitchen. “Oh, you’re no fun,” he said, giving Owlowiscious a backhanded wave.

Noticing that his work area was considerably dimmer than it had been just an hour ago, Spike cast a wary eye around at all the burned-out candles. His shoulders slumped as he slunk about, gathering up all the spent waxy stubs and tossing them into a wastebasket. First heading by the drawer where spares were kept, he then made another circuit to replenish his light source.

Spike finally plopped back into his seat and dragged over the last unfinished sheet. “Oh yeah,” he said as he broke into a stupid grin. “This one. Heh.” He rubbed a claw around to flatten the page, then freshened the ink on his quill.

Supaiku struggled to get up, shaking with the effort, but could do nothing except collapse back onto the ground. His spent body barely registered the numerous lacerations covering it. His breath coming in ragged spurts, Supaiku shot a contemptuous glance at his opponent.

“You simply cannot defeat me!” crowed the water demon. “You are too weak. I congratulate you on the attempt, at least—not many warriors would have made it this far.” His shoulders bouncing as he gave his most arrogant laugh, the demon turned away from Supaiku and strode off toward the nearby mountain village. “Now I will eat the young sun priestess so I can gain her power!”

He had not gotten even twenty paces before he came to an abrupt halt. He glanced back at the sound of a sword being unsheathed.

“I am not beaten yet,” growled Supaiku. “You will not turn your back on me, or you will soon find my blade in it.”

His breath catching in his throat, the demon faced Supaiku’s stony glare. Somehow, the dragon had found the strength to regain his feet, but the demon soon noticed that he could barely hold his sword steady. He cackled, saying, “You stupid fool! You could yet escape with your life! But if you wish to throw it away, I will not stop you!”

He spat a jet of water, but Supaiku braced himself, managing to cleave it with his weapon. He immediately countered, sending a blast of fiery breath in return, but the demon’s next liquid stream easily overpowered it, retaining enough force to knock Supaiku to the ground again.

“Ha! You would be wise to stay down this time,” the demon taunted. “Say good-bye to your precious Stellestia.”

Supaiku set his jaw and stood with surprisingly little effort. “You should not have threatened her. It will be the last thing you ever do.” Waves of energy radiated from Supaiku as a glowing sphere formed in front of his open mouth, making the demon recoil. Supaiku focused all of his power into that white-hot ball of flame.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa—”

With each passing second, the inferno intensified.

“—aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa—”

The demon could do nothing but watch as the the bright light washed out the rest of the world.

“—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—”

Supaiku’s crescendo had reached its maximum, and he finally released the bolt, which swept over the water demon. The explosion drove into the ground, burying the demon beneath tons of rubble.

Standing there panting, Supaiku didn’t see the white shape leaping out of the bushes until it was already on top of him. “Sun priestess! You shouldn’t be here, Stellestia! It’s too dangerous.”

“I couldn’t stand to think of never seeing you again, Supaiku!” she cried, covering his scaly face with kisses.

Supaiku sat up and reached a protective arm across her as he heard a rumbling from within the crater that his attack had made. Stepping around her, he brandished his sword.

“I won’t be killed by the likes of you! Meet your doom!” screamed the demon as it charged him, claws bared.

Meeting his opponent’s rush, Supaiku ran at him. When the distance between them had closed to a single pace, they took a mighty slash at each other, well-forged steel’s strength against talon’s raw fury. Several strides past their convergence, they both stopped and stood in dead silence, not even bothering to turn and see if a hit had been scored.

A few moments later, the demon crumpled. Supaiku calmly sheathed his sword.

“He won’t be troubling you again, priestess,” he said, grimacing as he held a claw over his broken ribs.

Raising a hoof to Supaiku’s cheek, Stellestia frowned at his battered body as her eyes glistened. She finally broke into a grin and tackled him again, covering him with kisses as he shouted, “Ow! Ow! Ow!”

“That’s the best one yet!” Spike said as he chuckled, then blew on the ink before rolling up the sheet. He sifted through his dish of gems once more before scowling and dumping the rest back into the bag. After taking a moment to stretch, he let out a prolonged yawn. He glanced out the window and saw that the moon was well on its way back to the horizon, so he didn’t bother to replace the few more candles that had gone out.

Shoving his inkwell aside and sliding a form out from under his pile of scrolls, Spike said, “Let’s see. Ponyville Bad Fiction Contest. Prizes include bragging rights and... that’s all. Just bragging rights. Give us your best writing gone horribly wrong. Entries posted for reading at Town Hall, yadda yadda... Judges include don’t-know-him, don’t-know-her, and—hee hee!—Twilight Sparkle. Three-thousand-word minimum, check. Up to six entries, check. Heh. I’ve got this sewn up. Nopony writes a bad Celestia—er, ‘Stellestia’—romance like I can.”

Wringing his claws, he gave an evil little laugh. “Gotta defend my title. I might even sweep the medals this time.” He signed the submission form: The Mustache. “The perfect disguise!”

Spike hopped out of his seat to find a large envelope and some stamps, but before leaving his work unattended, he eyed Owlowiscious for a moment. Already finished with his chores, the owl had roosted in a dark corner and was fast asleep. Rummaging through the mailing supplies, Spike took out a large paper pouch and giggled at his choice of stamps: one with a portrait of Celestia and one with a heart.

“These babies go out first thing in the morning,” he said, slapping an address label on the envelope. “Ooh,” he added as he pounded a fist against his chest and hiccupped a wisp of fire, “those spinels aren’t sitting quite right.”

He returned to his seat to make a final editing pass. As he scoured over page after page, scribbling a few revisions, Spike caught his chin dipping toward his chest more than once. He shook a bit of alertness back into his head, but each successive attempt was proving to be less and less effective. His quill dropped lightly to the desktop as Spike sagged his head for good.

The next morning, Spike popped one eye open and squinted into the sun hanging just above the trees. He stretched his arms and rubbed his bleary eyes. The few hours’ sleep had actually left him feeling worse, and he still had a burning sensation in his throat. He drew an arm across the corner of his mouth to wipe away a thin trickle of drool.

“Oh!” he shouted, scrambling for the front door to see if Derpy was anywhere in sight. “I hope I didn’t miss the mail!” He ran back to the desk, but stopped short and dropped his jaw at the sight before him.

The nearly empty surface was covered with scorch marks, and only a solitary story remained. One more bolt of flame erupted as he hiccupped again, sending the final scroll off toward Canterlot. His eyes shooting wide open, Spike covered his mouth with both claws.

Seconds later, a resonant yell roused Twilight Sparkle from a sound sleep.