The hooded figure stalked through the darkened streets of Canterlot. Cold rain pounded the paving slabs. The sound of boots on flagstones was muffled only by the weather. A gust of wind as the assassin turned a corner, cloak billowing. The target came into sight, the Canterlot Castle. A pair of guards wielding pikes blocked the entrance, staring off into the distance. Dashing from cover to cover when the guards looked elsewhere, the assassin made his way towards the castle. The guards laughed at an unheard joke as a clap of thunder shook the paving. The assassin was temporarily off balance but fortunately the guards were distracted. Seeing the chance, the assassin snook through a shadowed veranda, his footfall barely heard over the pounding of the rain.
The back door, there is always a back door. The assassin inched open a window depicting a purple pony in a tiara. Oh how he hated the old stories. The assassins hooves touched down on a gantry, high above the Canterlot Gala Hall. An echo rang out across the empty chamber as the assassin followed his plan thorough the maze of the castle. The rain, muffled though it was by the stone roof, still resounded through the hall. A metal door blocked the assassin's path. He gracefully reached into his pocket and in his hoof he held a small metal rod. The lockpick found the combination and the door swung open with a creak.
The knife glinted in the candlelight from the chandelier. It was to be used soon, and then lost, forever. The assassins stalking form passed over the Princess' chamber and stopped at the next door. He pulled a rope from his back and lowered it slowly down to the ground. Securing it on the rail of the metal gantry, he climbed down, being impossible careful not to wake the sleeping target. Creeping up, pulling the knife from it's sheath on his left foreleg, covering the slumbering Princess' mouth with his left hoof he brandished the knife in his right. A quick slit on the throat.
"Mission accomplished."
Blood.
The end.