Once upon a time, a beautiful young woman had fallen in love with the man of her dreams. She was kind and loving, pale blonde hair and blue eyes giving her the appearance of an angel. She always wore beautiful gossamer dresses, befitting her status, and everyone loved her. He was sweet and charming, a romantic and an artist. He wrote her poems and music, singing to her and writing long love letters that she would read over and over and over again.
War ravaged their homeland, and he was on the front line, leading the battles. During the long nights when the bonfires on the battlegrounds lit up the night, she would read his letters and poems to bring her comfort. They corresponded constantly, promising to marry once the war was over.
Of course, that promise never came to fruition. Word came that he was killed in the war, sending the woman into a depressive frenzy. She locked herself into her room, refusing any food. She was wasting away, and her beloved brother, a kind and righteous King, tried to reason with her. It was in vain – She was intent on dying with him. Faced with no other choice, the King coaxed her to sleep. Once she had fallen into a deep slumber, the King encased her in the magic crystal of their line, keeping her asleep and – more importantly – alive. The young woman dreamt, long, colorful, vivid dreams. She could walk in dreams as well, and visited her brother often.
Asleep, the woman became a myth. Once she had been forgotten, yet immortalized in stories, the young man reappeared, married with children. The King became furious. He ordered the man and his family to the castle. The man, not realizing it was the brother of the woman he'd promised to marry, came, wife and children in tow. The King showed the man where his sister slept, and the man became terrified. The King imprisoned him in a fit of rage.
The wife and children of the man were told of his lies, and the woman denounced the marriage and her husband immediately. The man was exiled from the Kingdom, and the woman slept on, oblivious.
Years passed. The man died. His wife died. The children grew old, forgetting. People forgot the woman existed, except in bedtime stories. Only the King, her brother, knew of her continued existence. The room where she slept became a shrine, kept clean and protected. The woman slept on through the years, and she will continue to sleep for many more, until her soul mate comes to awaken her.
This was an excerpt from another story I'd started writing, and even though that one died, it can apply to this one. Thanks for reading!