The noble paladin had been trained in secret for most of his life. Most of the kingdom had been ruled by the Dark Lady for over a century by now, with young and old forced to live every moment of their lives playing out rituals to please their queen, the sorceress who had been said to have transformed the rightful rulers of of the land into a throne and a coffee table. Those who had been lucky enough to escape into hiding had taught the warrior well in the ways of mental perseverance and physical strength. Walking fearlessly into the shadowy castle he drew his sword from his golden armor, not even flinching as the cold air brushed across his lips and through the ginger fibers of his beard.
He managed to make it to the Dark Lady's room while meeting a surprising lack of opposition...nevertheless, the holy warrior was not deterred. He simply assumed that the witch was too arrogant to bother with proper guards to defend her. Seeing her on her chair of black onyx, her garments a mass of blue silk and heavily worked silver, her face a calm mask of indifference, he finally spoke out defiantly.
"Today you draw your last breath, knave! After years of preparation, I will finally end your tyranny and liberate my people!"
He tightened his battle stance as he readied himself for whatever arrows, verbal or literal, the Lady might throw at him. Several seconds passed in the cold, dimly lit room before the Lady made a motion, her lips making a smirk while the rest of her remained stiff as death. And then, suddenly, the Lady stood right in front of the paladin, without any evidence that she had made a physical motion at all. Her smirk became a strangely warm looking grin, much to the warrior's surprise. But the paladin knew not to trust her, and made a move to strike-or would have, if he hadn't found one of the Lady's delicate fingers atop the tip of his nose, and his body no longer able to obey his commands that it move.
He realized that she must have been making some sort of mental assault upon him, and steeled himself for whatever pain might come. After all, his caretakers had taught him how to remain diligent through any sort of torture. But the paladin had another surprise coming, as what followed was far different from pain.
All at once, he felt love. All consuming, unconditional, making him feel wanted in a way he never had, not even among his trusted mentors. His head spun. His heart raced. And everything he knew seemed to melt away as the room became smaller and smaller, his soul warmer and warmer.
After what felt like a lifetime, there was no paladin standing face to face with the Dark Lady. In his place was a tiny girl, looking barely a day over six, barely standing at the Lady's knees. To her awe and horror, she had become a perfect miniature image of the Lady, hair tied in long black drills, a long dark blue silk gown with pointed shoulders and a high collar cover the whole of her tiny body, with many silver rings along her arms, cinching her waist, and crowning her forehead. "Mummy? Mummy?" Was all the newly minted girl could ask in bewilderment as the Lady smiled gently down at her.
"My silly little darling...I may not be all powerful, but I am all seeing. Your parents gave you to those who would train you to withstand any pain...but not any pleasure. Do not look so afraid child...in time you will accept, even enjoy your new destiny, and, as I am not immortal, I will be more than happy to watch you succeed me. I will have to...confine you to your room for a little while, a small punishment to remind you that you are not who you were before, but soon I shall begin caring for you as my own flesh and blood, and making sure you are brought up in the ways of evil."
Before she could make another peep, the new princess felt black smoke well up around her, and found herself whisked off to a small torchlit room. Thoughts of opening the lock to escape were quickly dashed as she found herself far to short to even reach the knob. Sighing in resignation, she sat on the nearby bed and straightened her skirt...before noticing the nearby vanity. She blushed deeply, noticing her new youthful face for the first time. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she sat on the wooden stool with the velvet cushion, slowly picking up the silver brush and running it through her black drill shaped locks. She trembled, still guilty that she had failed, still pining for her old self...but as she combed idly, a devilish grin crossed her face. Something about all this felt...right. Maybe being an evil princess would be fun after all.