The Land With The Hidden Blade

He felt nothing. It was as if he was merely floating forever, looking at a future of endless boredom. ‘So this is what death feels like’ he thought, ‘I wonder what-‘

Wonder…what? At that moment he felt his memories disappear. The experience was horrifying yet relieving. Imagine having a library. Now think of all the books it contained become blank. He felt that. He knew he had memories but now they were all gone.

He had a name once. He had forgotten. He did not have a body, but he recalled blood. His muscle memory held a certain control and discipline. Every part of his being was made to kill; to fight; to lie; to hide; to deceive-

-To assassinate.

A faint thought briefly passed over his ethereal vision. It was a painting. Frameless, it appeared simple from a mere look, but he felt a strong mix of emotions flood through him as it appeared.

It was a picture of a man, his wife and his child. His precious child.

‘Connor’, he whispered, although it was mere thought considering he had no mouth to speak with.

A light appeared on the sky of the nothingness. It was blinding, growing larger and larger by the second. He noticed he was going nearer towards it and it was not enlarging. Soon his essence, in whatever form it possessed, was surrounded by the bright light. All around him blank white stared back.

And then it became dark again but this time, accompanied by something else.

It was the feel of sunlight on his face.

-TLWTHB-

“Wakey-wakey my little pony” said a female voice. At first he thought it was… Who was he thinking about again? He shook the thought aside for a moment and opened his eyes.

He was aware he was on a very comfy bed. It was big and was very soft. The designs on it were made with gold and held gems. He immediately thought of royalty.

His suspicions were proven correct. On his right was a wooden end table that had golden designs only a noble or any rich man can afford. On its surface was a beautiful tiara. It was obviously for a monarch, or a king.

He was suddenly imbued with dislike for royalty. Nobody deserved to have control over another’s actions; no matter how righteous they may present their cause to be. A rational side of his mind told him that it was a tiara and unless this said king liked to do and wear unspeakable things in the dead of night, the headwear was for a woman. Any kingdom that lets itself be rules by a woman must have been at least more accepting and thus better than the one he grew accustomed to…

What kingdom? Dismissing such a fruitless question, he wondered why he was here and how did he get here; and where he was before here.

“Oh, I guess he is awake! Did you enjoy last night?” the voice said seductively. He turned to see a white horse on the bed with him. She was beautiful, in a way. Her skin was pure white. Her eyes were calm and caring. On her forehead was a horn and he had seen a bit of wing on her side, the rest covered by blankets. Her mane was also unusual, holding different colors and swaying even without a breeze in the room. She also had that large grin that made her all the cuter.

What concerned him thought was that there’s a horse on the bed with him. There’s also the teeny tiny teensy widdle little fact that she…no, it…talked. And he understood her.

He gulped. He knew from instinct that he had faced scarier and more surprising things than a talking horse on a bed. What gave him horror was what she implied.

“From your look I guess you liked it,” she whispered. He couldn’t take it anymore. He yelled and retreated away from her, falling with a small thump in the process.

“No? I guess I didn’t bring my A-game that time.”

“W-who are you?” He asked. His voice was clear, yet he felt it wrong. ‘What should it sound like anyway?’

“I was sure your pretty much enjoyed yourself- pardon, I meant me, last night” She gave him a sultry wink.

‘Did I do what I think I did… with a horse?’ His mind reeled at the thought. None of his fantasies could have included such a thought. His sanity wouldn't have allowed.

He stood up, partly because he did not know what to think, mostly so that he can run away and cry himself to death somewhere. A nice hill overlooking the water would be best, so he can drown himself after crying. Hill overlooking water… The thought struck a chord within him. He must have been doing nothing for a minute or so because the horse was looking at him with concern.

“Um, are you alright?” she asked. He merely shook his head. She got out of the bed too. Her wings were as white as her body and on her flank was the symbol of the sun. Her legs were nice too…

He shuddered at the thought of attraction to an equine. The horse noticed.

“We have a clinic if you need medical assistance-”

“No need. I am a bit confused, that is all. Mind telling me where I am and…who you are?” He almost said ‘what’. He did not need to insult the only being that could give him information. She raised an eyebrow at the question.

“My dear pony, I am Celestia. I am surprised you don’t know me at all. I am the ruler of Equestria, this land that you find yourself in. This is Canterlot Castle, and in my personal chambers,” she smiled. “Of course, you were screaming my name all night I expected you to be familiar-”

“I DID NOT DO THAT TO YOU!” He yelled with all the raw fury and denial he could muster. He swore his eyes were bulging from their sockets. He would claw his face with his hands-

He noticed he was standing on all fours like her. He looked down to see dark brown hooves where hands were supposed to be. He came to the logical conclusion: He was a horse, more accurately; a pony like Celestia had called her.

He looked for a reflection and saw a full body mirror nearby. Trotting over, he inspected himself. His fur was a deep shade of brown, with dark-grey mane that was shaggy and covered his face. Cold black eyes stared back at him from the mirror from behind his messy hairs; he looked a serial killer set loose. He turned around, examining this form. On the sides of his flanks was an image of a small blade. He recognized it as something called a hidden blade. He did not know how he knew but he felt greatly familiar with it.

He turned to look back at Celestia was what on the floor gasping for air. His reaction must have been good comedy for her. As she stood up she smiled and offered a hoof. He slowly took it with his own hoof and shook, the gesture familiar to him even with this body.

“Your name is something I don’t know.” Celestia said. Saving Blade opened his mouth to speak before his strange wave of amnesia appeared and stole his name from his lips. He decided to give himself a title of a sort.

He thought for a moment, thinking of the right name to call himself. It was two words… He couldn't think of his real name. He thought for a moment before speaking.

“Saving Blade.”