In the time when fairy tales were real, when it was not uncommon to find a Unicorn or two roaming the forests, and when lions and lambs could lay side by side in absolute peace, there was a beautiful kingdom called Virtue that lay nestled at the base of a majestic mountain. It was a common sort of kingdom, with a village, and local farmers and peasants and livestock, and a large castle that towered above it all. Within this castle resided the king and queen, and they had two daughters who grew up to be quite lovely, although quite common, princesses.

But this king and queen also had one daughter who was anything but common. She certainly was lovely; even as a tiny babe, she was as perfect as a princess could be, and as she grew older she grew more and more beautiful, just like her sisters. She had the usual golden hair and the beautiful blue eyes and the lovely, pale complexion that bespoke of a true fairytale princess. No, what made her so uncommon was that she had no heart. Rather, within her breast there lay a glittering ruby, placed there at her birth by a fairy in retaliation for not being invited to the Royal Christening.

Now, fairies are rather flighty creatures who take great offense over the least little thing, and to not be invited to something so important as a Royal Christening is more than a little insulting to beings such as they. Up until that time, it was tradition to have fairies bestow gifts upon the royal children of Virtue, but after an unsettling incident with a newborn prince in a neighboring kingdom (the poor child would forever be the size of one’s thumb, thanks to that particular fairy), the queen of Virtue was taking no chances with her newest daughter.

So, it really wasn’t any wonder that the entire fairy population got so ruffled over discovering that Virtue was holding a Royal Christening without them. They might not have known at all, for the celebration was planned with utmost secrecy, but a passing raven saw and heard all the commotion, and there is nothing ravens like so much as to cause a bit of mischief. Where do you suppose that troublesome bird flew as soon as it had satisfied its curiosity? Why, straight to the Fairy Queen, of course, cackling to itself all the way.

So, the Christening went on, and nobody thought it odd that the fairies were not present; indeed, most were having much too grand a time to notice their absence in the first place…until the Fairy Queen herself appeared in the middle of the Great Hall, looking quite unhappy about the entire situation. The king and queen of Virtue apologized profusely to the enraged fairy, but by then, of course, it was much too late to make amends.

The Fairy Queen, to her credit, did not give the princess the usual curse of pricking her finger on some sharp object, or swallowing poisoned fruit at a certain age—after all, it wasn’t the child’s fault that her parents were idiots—but in retaliation for their bad manners, she took the princess’s pure, human heart and replaced it with a ruby that sparkled and glittered like a cold fire. This, she said, was the heart of a fairy, and everyone knows that fairies have no heart at all. And so, because the princess now had no heart, she no longer had any of the usual traits that were so common in other princesses. She felt no love, nor kindness, nor human compassion for anyone, because to feel those emotions one needs a place to put them, and without a heart there simply is no place left. One cannot carry such things around in their stomachs, after all.

The king and queen were quite upset when their normally sweet-tempered child suddenly began to wail and scream and screw up her pretty little face into the most disagreeable expressions, as though the very air that surrounded her was somehow offensive. They had her taken to the Royal Nursery to be put to bed, and the guests were all sent home as the Advisors to the King sent messengers to find the other fairies and plead with them to undo the damage their queen had done. But the fairies, of course, refused to turn on their own. Perhaps loyalty was the only good trait that any of them shared, but it helped the king and queen of Virtue not one little bit.

The Arch Bishop, who had given the princess the name of Serenity, as was befitting of her sweet nature, suggested that perhaps the name was no longer appropriate for such a child. Watching their daughter still squalling disagreeably in her bed, the king and queen were forced to agree that perhaps the Bishop was right. And so, that very night, a new name was chosen for the princess, and this name was Malevolence.

Sixteen years passed by, and it seemed that Malevolence grew more and more into her beauty. She now rivaled the fairies themselves in comeliness, and everyone knows that even the ugliest fairy is quite beautiful in her own way. But if she matched the fairies in beauty, she by far surpassed them in heartlessness, for even fairies know how to laugh and smile, and even they would show compassion for a poor soul every once in awhile, although it was not without a price. Malevolence had never laughed nor smiled since her Christening, and showing compassion to anyone was as impossible for her to do as flying is impossible for a dolphin. It wasn’t any wonder, really, that by the time she had reached her tenth year, she had become known throughout the realm and beyond as the Heartless Princess.

It was on the first day of spring that Malevolence’s sixteenth birthday arrived, and all of Virtue prepared to celebrate it. The two older princesses had long ago married and moved away to far kingdoms, and Malevolence was the only princess left in the castle. But she was now old enough to wed and be taken away, as well, and every unmarried prince in the world was coming to the grand ball being held in the castle that very night, in the hopes of winning her hand. Even the youngest child knew that Malevolence would not marry just any prince, for she was very vain and simply refused to consider anyone who did not meet her high standards of perfection. Still, of the hundreds of princes that were already arriving at the castle, there had to be at least one with whom she would be pleased with! Of course everyone knew that love was out of the question, for Malevolence was simply incapable of such an emotion.

And so the princes came, arriving in ships and in golden carriages, and astride beautiful horses. Each of them was as handsome as a peacock, and each of them bore a magnificent gift for Malevolence, for even in the furthest kingdom they had heard of the Heartless Princess and her enchanting beauty, as well as her haughty, unfeeling character. But they also had heard of her greed for wealth and beautiful things, and each one was vainly sure that he’d be able to win her over with his gift.

Malevolence, in the meantime, was spying from a balcony outside her chambers as the travelers arrived, and seeing the way these young men strutted about, so certain of themselves, she was beginning to feel annoyed at their arrogance. She had been watching for awhile, in hopes of discovering someone that was at least somewhat interesting to her, but so far no one had caught her eye, and she finally sighed. "Why can I not find one prince who is as perfect as I am?" she complained to herself.

There was a little maid attending the princess whose name was Lita. She had only just started that day, after the old maid had left in a huff at some insult that the princess had given her. Poor Lita, who was somewhat dull, had been snatched from her job of cleaning the fireplaces, hurriedly promoted to Lady in Waiting, and sent on her way to help Malevolence ready herself for that night’s celebration.

Perhaps Lita, being only a scullery maid, had for some reason not heard of her princess’s vicious temper. Or perhaps, being somewhat dull, she had merely forgotten. Whatever the reason, when she heard Malevolence’s muttered comment, she quite forgot herself and replied helpfully, "If you keep searching for a perfect prince, yer sure to be disappointed, Highness. There’s nobody perfect, you know. Even you." It was rather a wise thing that Lita said, in truth. It was the fact that she had said it to the princess that was rather stupid, as she quickly realized when Malevolence suddenly turned on the poor girl in a fury.

"If I’d wanted your opinion, I would have asked for it!" the princess snapped viciously. "How dare you speak so rudely to me! Take yourself from my presence at once, before I have you tossed into the dungeon like the vagabond you are!" Poor Lita scrambled away in terror before Malevolence could well act on her threat, and decided thereafter that cleaning fireplaces was a much safer job than attending the horrible princess.

Malevolence sighed deeply after the impertinent servant girl had left, and settled back onto her golden couch to once again view the merriment below. Still, she did not see one prince that she deemed worthy of her attention. She was finally ready to give up and go inside to find something more interesting to do when, quite suddenly, her eyes fell upon a young man standing a little way apart from the milling crowd of royalty, like a bright ray of sunlight peeking out from behind dark storm clouds.

With a sharp gasp, she sat up on her couch and leaned forward for a better look, gaping at him with her mouth hanging open in a very un-princess-like manner. If Malevolence was the sun, with her bright gold hair and summer-blue eyes, than this young man was surely the moon. His tall form was dressed all in gray velvet and pale golden silk of the finest cut. His hair was of such a dark shade that it rivaled the deepest of nights in color. His eyes were a deep blue-black that faintly glimmered with starlight, and when he suddenly turned them upward to rest upon Malevolence, she could see—even from that distance—great wisdom in their depths, and a soul so beautiful that it brought an ache to her throat to look into them.

Eventually, she realized that she was gawking quite rudely, and that her mouth was still hanging open. So she closed it and glanced away, attempting to replace the expression of calm indifference that she normally favored. It was very unlike her to react in such a way to anyone, and she felt quite annoyed with herself for doing so in front of that young man, even if he was the most strikingly beautiful person she’d ever seen in her life. She had a funny feeling inside, one that she couldn’t quite put a name to, for she had never felt anything like it before. It was rather unsettling when she realized that, had she a true heart, it would have been racing fast. When Malevolence finally gathered her composure and looked back to the prince, she realized that he had vanished. Her eyes went wide as she searched the crowd for him, but alas, he was nowhere to be found. It was as though he had never been there at all.

That night, the banquet hall was crowded with people dressed in all manner of fine clothing. The room was draped with colorful streamers, and long tables were set up and loaded from end to end with the most delicious of feasts. At the head of the room sat the king and queen, with Malevolence seated proudly between them. Her gown was of flowing, crimson velvet, and her hair was woven with white rosebuds. She looked as enchanting as any true fairy, and she gazed down at her guests impassively, knowing that they all watched her, and silently mocking them for their vain hopes of ever winning her hand. She knew she was far too perfect for the likes of them, and yet her thoughts continually wandered to her vision of the prince with the starlit eyes and midnight hair. Surely he had not been a dream; it had been too real a meeting for that. As hard as she searched, however, she could not find him seated at any of the banquet tables, and she began to wonder if it had not been a dream-vision, after all.

Finally, dinner was ended, the tables were cleared, and a scribe came up to stand before the royal family, holding a thick scroll. He cleared his throat importantly and opened the parchment, and Malevolence sighed irritably. She was not looking forward to these tedious introductions of her guests in the least. She could care less about any of them, truth be told.

"And now," the scribe announced, "to introduce the royal highnesses, who have traveled from-"

"Oh, just get on with it!" the princess snapped, quite rudely. "I haven’t got all night, you know!" She ignored the offended expressions and mutterings in the crowd below her (although her parents were nearly squirming with embarrassment at their youngest daughter’s behavior), and settled back in her chair as the nervous scribe quickly began to read.

Each prince came before Malevolence and bowed, a hopeful smile on his face as he presented her with his magnificent gift, but each prince went away disappointed after receiving nothing more than a yawn, a haughty glance, and a dismissive wave of the hand in return. The princess quickly became bored with the entire ordeal, and began to invent new ways to reject her would-be suitors. She found malicious amusement in giving each one of them a smart kick in the pants as they turned away from her, causing them to yelp and stumble down the steps of the dais rather ungracefully.

Some of them she kicked harder than others if she found them to be particularly distasteful.

Finally, the last prince stepped up to the dais, his face beaming with the mistaken belief that he was the one to be wedded to Malevolence, since she had rejected everyone else. But upon spying the young man, who was rather short and portly in girth, Malevolence merely gave a groan of disgust and waved him away angrily almost before he’d even reached the throne. The poor man quickly turned around and hurried away again, but not before he felt the princess’s slippered foot pay homage to his trousers, causing him to stumble and fall and roll right down the gilded steps and out of the banquet hall.

"Who is next?" the princess asked wearily. Countless introductions had been made to her—none of which she could even begin to remember (nor did she want to)—and yet she had seen no sign of the prince with the starlit eyes.

The scribe was rolling up his scroll, all one-hundred and seventy-two feet of it, but at Malevolence’s question he jumped a little, like a startled mouse. "H-he was th-th-the last one, Y-Your H-H-Highness," he stuttered nervously. "Th-they have all b-b-been introduced." And before Malevolence could utter another word, he beat a hasty retreat.

"Come back here, you coward!" the princess shouted, leaping to her feet to grab the poor scribe by the scruff of his neck, but a sudden commotion in the back of the room made her forget her prey, and the poor man managed to escape unscathed. The large, gilded doors of the banquet hall abruptly slammed open, and through them strode a young man dressed in gray velvet and pale gold silk, with a scarlet cloak billowing behind him. Malevolence suddenly froze, her breath catching in her throat.

It was him!

He came straight up to the princess amid murmurs of astonishment from the remaining guests, and bowed to the royal family. "Please forgive my intrusion," he stated quietly. His voice was soft, like the sighing wind.

"You have been expected here," Malevolence replied with a touch of disapproval, for if there was one thing she could not abide in her guests, it was tardiness, even though she herself was often late to her own events, if she deigned to appear at all.

"My name is Endymion," the young man continued, "and I’ve brought a gift for Her Highness, Malevolence." He pulled from the folds of his cloak a mirror and handed it to the princess. "Here is something that befits a lady such as yourself," he added mysteriously. "Please look into it."

Malevolence eagerly took the gift. She liked mirrors, for she loved to gaze at herself and admire her own astonishing beauty. Her bedchambers were filled with them, of all shapes and sizes, but this was the most beautiful she’d ever seen, made entirely of crystal and intricately carved and studded with precious gems. She lifted the mirror to her face to gaze into it as Endymion had requested…and promptly released a horrible shriek. For it wasn’t her own face that stared back at her, but the face of a skeletal corpse!

"What have you done to me?" the princess cried, but Endymion did not answer, and his soft eyes were cold as he regarded her. Malevolence turned to her father. "Look at what he’s done! He has placed some enchantment on it!" she accused. "Do you not you see the face?"

"I see nothing but my own reflection," the king replied. "It’s a beautiful gift. Thank Prince Endymion properly, my daughter."

"I won’t!" Malevolence shouted, turning on the prince angrily. "What did you do?" she demanded again. "What sort of trickery is this?"

"There is no trickery," Endymion replied softly, his gaze so compassionate that the princess had to look away. "The Crystal Mirror shows your reflection truly. Not your outer appearance, such as you see in any other looking-glass, but rather the image of your heart. This is the appearance that truly counts for something. The Crystal Mirror is just like you, Malevolence. Lovely to behold on the outside, but on the inside you are as dead as the face you see in the glass."

"Take the spell away at once!" Malevolence demanded furiously.

"I cannot. If you want your reflection to change, you yourself must change. Rid your heart of all its darkness and fill it with light instead, and the image will appear as you want it to," Endymion replied.

"But how can she do such a thing? Our daughter has no heart!" the queen cried in distress. "The Fairy Queen took it from her and replaced it with the ruby!"

"Do you truly believe this?" Endymion questioned, turning his wise gaze upon the poor mother. "Do you not know? All emotion comes from the heart. Hate and indifference grow and flourish in the same place that love and compassion do. If your daughter can have any emotions, even ones such as those, how can you say that she has no heart at all?" The king and queen had no answer to this, for they had never before pondered such a question.

"I don’t want your gift!" Malevolence hissed fiercely. In a rage she threw the Crystal Mirror at Endymion. It struck him in the chest and fell to the floor, shattering into millions of tiny shards upon impact. The princess looked at him triumphantly, daring him to retaliate.

But he did not retaliate. He merely picked up one of the glistening shards lying at his feet, and looked up to regard the princess with a great sadness lingering in his eyes. "It matters little what you want, My Lady," he told her softly…almost regretfully, it seemed. "Destroying the Crystal Mirror will not help your situation, for anything you look upon that reflects your face will reflect the face of your heart instead. You will be cursed to look at it every day until you can learn to speak with humility instead of pride, and to show compassion in place of indifference."

And Malevolence, with a shriek of rage, gathered her skirts in her hands, shoving Endymion out of her way as she fled the room in humiliation, leaving her astonished guests to stare after her.

Endymion’s promise held true, and every day thereafter Malevolence could no longer look upon any shining surface without seeing the face of that hideous corpse gazing back at her. Endymion had mysteriously disappeared soon after the celebration, and nobody could find him again, or knew where he might have gone. They did not even know where he had come from in the first place. Malevolence tried to be glad of it, for she was furious at him for playing her such a humiliating and horrible joke. But in truth a part of her longed to see him again, for despite his cruel punishment he had quite captured her heart. This had happened all unknowing to her, but it proved beyond all doubt that his words were true. She did indeed have a heart, although it was very small and weak in comparison to others.

Still, despite that unconscious longing to meet Prince Endymion again, she at first stubbornly refused to change her ways, out of sheer spite if nothing else. Still, it was horrible to see that awful face every day. She ordered every mirror in the castle removed, but even then it still haunted her. She glimpsed it in the water she bathed in, or reflected from her silver goblet, or on the shining, golden plates that she ate from. Even in her golden crown there danced a tiny image of the corpse when she happened to glance upon it. So finally, after many horrible tantrums and sleepless nights, Malevolence decided at last to attempt to heed Endymion’s advice. Not completely, mind you, but enough so that the horrible image would begin to look at least a little like her own lovely face.

It was very difficult at first, for old habits die hard and hers were particularly resistant to death. After many days of pondering, she decided to start by trying to smile. It was quite difficult at first to force her pretty mouth to turn upwards, instead of down in its normal pout, but she practiced it regularly when she was by herself. She often walked in the gardens while doing so, because it seemed easier to smile when she was surrounded by roses and birdsong. Soon she came to realize that she actually enjoyed smiling, and even though at first she felt peculiar smiling in the presence of others, she slowly grew bolder. One day she smiled at one of the gardeners as she passed him, leaving him to stare after her in bewilderment, wondering who the lovely maiden who looked so much like the princess could be.

Her next task, she decided, was to learn how to laugh. This was a bit more difficult, for she really wasn’t certain what caused laughter. She realized, though, that when she attempted to make herself laugh, it didn’t sound the way it was supposed to. Real laughter sounded carefree and joyful. Hers sounded rather like that of a mechanical doll that could be wound up, hollow and artificial and not real at all. This was so discouraging that she very nearly gave up in her quest, but one day in the gardens she learned quite by accident how to really laugh.

This she discovered while observing two squirrels chasing each other in the trees. One of them leaped to a certain branch and missed, tumbling down and down until it managed to catch hold of another branch and save itself. Its friend sat in another tree, chattering loudly just as though it was laughing. This sight was so funny that Malevolence, who had never realized what humor was before, began to laugh as well. At first she didn’t understand where the silvery peals of laughter were coming from, but when she realized that they rang out from her own mouth, it startled her so much that she stopped, blinking in surprise.

It was at that moment when she realized that true laughter could not be forced, but had to come straight from the heart.

This discovery began to open many doors inside of her that had been shut and locked up tight, and as each door opened to allow the light to shine in, the hard, glittering ruby that was her heart began to slowly change beneath its warmth. It softened and flourished, blooming like a rose beneath the sunlight, and in not-so-long a time, her entire personality began to change. She no longer snapped at the servants, and she was even polite to the advisors and ministers of the castle. The first time she spoke respectfully to her parents, the queen nearly fainted and had to be revived with smelling salts, and the king sat down in the middle of the throne room floor and looked bewildered, wondering if he was dreaming. All in all, the castle seemed a brighter place now that Malevolence was finally becoming a brighter person.

And so time passed, and spring changed to summer, then to fall, and finally winter arrived. It was a very harsh winter, and snow covered the kingdom of Virtue in a freezing blanket. Malevolence was forced to spend most of her days inside the castle, pacing restlessly and waiting for spring to arrive once more. It was very hard to remember how to be kind-hearted and gentle during those days, and after one such evening, when she shouted at a servant for no reason at all, she decided that a walk might help her to relax.

The gardens were lovely, all covered with ice and lit like a fairyland by the full moon, and Malevolence walked for a long time before she realized how cold she had become. So she stopped at the stables and went inside the warm barn, walking slowly between the two rows of stalls. The horses watched her curiously, and she stroked their velvet noses, enjoying the quietness. Her irksome manner began to calm as she let the peace surround her. "I ought not to have snapped at my maid like that," she told one of the horses, who pricked its ears at her. "What would Endymion say if he were to have heard it?" She sighed, feeling a bit of sadness settle over her. She had been thinking of the prince with the starlit eyes more and more often these days as the unpleasant winter continued. "I wonder where he is right now," she added softly. "I wonder if he thinks of me at all, or if he knows that I’ve made myself a better person like he wanted me to." Then, a horrible thought occurred to her. "Perhaps he’s forgotten all about me by now. After all, I was not very kind to him when we first met. He has no reason to think of an unfeeling wretch like myself when there are so many other princesses out there who are so much more beautiful on the inside."

Suddenly, there came a very loud crash from an empty stall, and Malevolence jumped violently at the sound, startled out of her sad thoughts. "H-hello?" she called hesitantly, thinking it to be a stable boy or another servant who had been sleeping in the stall when they were supposed to be working. "Who is it? Come out of there at once!" she commanded, and moved to the stall to open the door. She gasped when a figure rose from the shadows, and was shocked to see a rather dirty and ragged young man standing there, perhaps only a little older than she. His hair was matted and unwashed, his clothes were filthy, and he looked like he was starving as he watched her fearfully. He was so thin that it seemed like he would fall over at the slightest breath of wind.

Malevolence suddenly felt very sorry for the poor vagabond, who was obviously seeking shelter from the harsh winter outside. It did not occur to her to be afraid of him, as others might be, and she didn’t even consider having him tossed out into the cruel winter. Instead, she decided that she would help him. A year ago, she likely would have had him thrown into the dungeon for daring to trespass on the castle grounds, but now she knew better. Compassion had finally touched her heart, and she wanted nothing more than to help the poor, shivering wretch who cowered before her.

"When have you eaten last?" she asked him softly.

He looked startled and suspicious, and rightly so, for he could not remember the last time a human hand had reached toward him in kindness. "Don’t know," he mumbled cautiously. "Awhile, I guess."

"Wait here," Malevolence commanded. "Please, don’t run away. I’ll bring you some food." Before he could reply, she turned and ran the whole way to the castle kitchens. Once there, she ignored the startled glances cast upon her by the cooks as she gathered food for that night’s meal. She put everything into a basket, the best of the fresh-baked bread, a canister of hot broth, and a pouch of fresh milk. The servants were too startled to even question what the princess was doing until she was already out the door again.

Malevolence hurried back to the stables, half-fearing that the boy had fled during her absence, but he was still there when she returned, crouching in the corner of the empty stall. "Here," she gasped, out of breath from all the running. "I brought you food like I promised." She thrust the basket into his arms.

He didn’t even say thank you; just tore into the food like a starving wolf, but the princess wasn’t outraged by his lack of manners. Rather, she felt glad that she had helped someone less fortunate than herself, and she realized that she wanted to help him more. "It’s rather cold in these stables. Take this to keep warm," she offered gently, taking off her velvet cloak to wrap it about the young man’s shoulders.

He stared at her in amazement, not certain how to respond. Nobody had ever given him anything like this before. The velvet was soft and warm. "I-I’d better go now," he mumbled.

"Go?" Malevolence replied in surprise. "In this weather?" She looked outside. It had begun to snow yet again, and the air had turned even cooler.

"I can’t stay here," the boy pointed out.

"Whyever not? If you need a place to stay, there is always room in the castle. If you need a job, perhaps you can help the servants with their chores. They are always short on help, it seems. No matter what you decide, I’ll not willingly send you into that storm," she replied, very firmly.

"But surely the Heartless Princess would object if she knew," he stated.

Malevolence suddenly felt very ashamed of herself. This was not a new emotion for her, but never had it touched her so strongly. It gripped her newly-awakened heart in sharp claws and squeezed, and the princess clutched at her chest and dropped her gaze, unable to meet the eyes of even a lowly vagabond in her shame. "No, she wouldn’t," she whispered. "She might have, not so long ago. But not anymore. This I promise you."

"And how could you promise such a thing?" the young man challenged. Malevolence hesitantly lifted her gaze to his, her face mournful as she thought once again of all the past wrongs she had done.

"I can because I am the princess," she admitted softly. "You have every right to be skeptical of me. I have been a horrible person in my life, and my heart lay dead within me. Only after Endymion showed me the monster I had become inside did I want to begin to change. Now I am trying to make up for everything I have ever done, with the hope of earning his forgiveness so that I might be worthy of him should he deign to return to me someday. But I fear I shall never be good enough for one such as he. I doubt I am even good enough for one such as you."

No sooner had Malevolence spoken those words than the vagabond suddenly began to change. His ragged appearance fell away in a shower of dust as his plain garments became clothes of fine velvet and silk that glowed like star-lit snow. His dark hair gleamed, and his midnight eyes glowed with wisdom and tenderness. Malevolence could only gape at the sight of him, much as she had the first time she’d seen him. Endymion had finally returned to her, and she was relieved and afraid all at the same time.

"Where have you been all this time? W-why did you come back?" she asked timidly, and he smiled at her gently.

"I have been watching you," he replied softly, "and I’m greatly impressed with the changes I’ve witnessed in you these past months. You have grown so much inside. But do not take my word for it. Come and see for yourself." With that, he pulled that same Mirror from his cloak, the one made of crystal that was studded with gems, and Malevolence shrank back in horror at the sight of it.

"Oh, no! Oh, please don’t make me look into it," she pleaded, clasping her hands before her, dreading to see that horrible face again. "I’ve learned my lesson, truly I have! I’ll never be so cruel to others again!"

But Endymion merely held out his hand in a silent command, and she was compelled to take it. He drew her forward and held up the Crystal Mirror, and she reluctantly looked into it, afraid of what she would see. A gasp of surprise escaped her, for gazing back at her was a face as lovely and pure as an angel’s. And it was her own face she was looking at.

"It’s me," she gasped, not quite believing her eyes. "B-but I was never this beautiful!"

"It is you," Endymion agreed, "and you never were more beautiful, because you were never so beautiful in your heart. You touched me with love when no one else would. You showed compassion and humility to a mere vagabond. This has proven to me that you have truly changed, and now I can offer you my love as I’ve so longed to, for your heart is finally virtuous enough to accept it. My Lady, will you marry me and come with me to my kingdom?"

Malevolence could barely reply, so astonished was she, but then a beautiful smile lit her face like sunlight. "Of course!" she cried. "That’s all I’ve wanted since I met you!" And when Endymion took her into his arms to hold her close, she thought she might burst with happiness.

"No longer shall your name be Malevolence," the prince told her. "No longer is such a name befitting of you. From now unto eternity, your name shall be as it was before the fairy stole your heart. Princess Malevolence, you shall become my Queen Serenity."

And one month later, on the first day of spring, Serenity and Endymion were married in the presence of the entire kingdom. The celebration afterward lasted for three days and three nights, and every peasant in Virtue attended, by the princess’s invitation. The celebration was wonderful, filled with laughter and singing, but no laughter was more beautiful than Serenity’s, and no heart more joyous. When it had ended, Endymion carried his lovely bride off to his kingdom, a beautiful land the furthest away of all called Divinity. And there, he and his queen lived happily ever after.

And the people of Virtue lived happily ever after, as well, because of the knowledge that their Heartless Princess wasn’t heartless anymore.