I know it's kind of stilted and abrupt and lacking in depth, but it's more a concept work at this point.
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Once upon a time, before the moon and stars decorated the sky, there lived, in a kingdom far removed from any place in the world of today, a king and a queen.
They did not love each other.
The king was a good king, wise and just, but he let his kingdom control his life and spared no time for anything but affairs of state. Everyone admired his dedication and honour, but privately considered him a bore.
The queen was very beautiful, but also very vain and silly. She loved to laugh and dance and host lively salons; in short, she loved to play. People loved her for her dazzle, but eventually grew impatient with her insipidity.
If the king had paid more attention to his wife or if the queen had observed her husband more closely, they might have learned from each other and become the greatest rulers the land had ever seen. But they had learned their roles too well and they never deviated from their respective courses.
They knew their duty, however, and a few years after their marriage, the queen grew large with child.
A little girl was born, and she was not beautiful, except for the odd beauty on infants everywhere. She was red and a little wrinkled, with large blue eyes and a few strands of dark hair.
The king and queen planned a grand christening ceremony and invited many guests, including several fairies. After feasting and dancing, they all lined up to present the child with gifts and last in line were the fairies.
The last fairy was the youngest, and she was as silly as the queen, but more whimsical. When she saw the infant, she frowned and said,
"Why, it's a bald little mouse! Little one, I grant you the gift of long hair, of the longest, most beautiful hair in the world."
As soon as she finished, the king and queen saw black curls growing faster than weeds from their daughter's scalp. After a few seconds, all the guests could see the masses of hair tumbling from the cradle.
The queen shrieked, frightened, and the king jumped to his feet and lifted the girl up so she would not be strangled by her own hair.
"Stop it! Stop it!" the queen shouted at the fairy.
The fairy grew more and more offended and finally shrugged and said, "Well, I can't now, can I? A gift given cannot be taken back. But I wouldn't even if I could: she's precious." And the fairy disappeared.
As years passed, the rate of hair growth slowed, but never stopped, so that the princess needed a haircut a day to keep her hair out from under her feet.
While her hair continued to grow, so did her beauty, until, when she was ten years old, her mother began to worry for her own looks. The queen did not want to be surpassed by her daughter, so she plotted hard and came up with a plan.
"There will be many suitors," she told the king, "and they will fight for her hand. We do not want that at court, do we?"
The king was busy and only half-listening. "I suppose not."
"We could send her away," continued the queen, "and make it a test for the young men. Whoever finds her first and brings her back, will wed her." She smiled slyly. "I'll arrange everything. Don't worry one bit."
The kind, absorbed in tax ledgers, did not answer.
The queen called on her old nurse, a fairy of no little power. She explained her plan, finishing with,
"I want you to make it impossible for any man to find her." The old woman, devoted to the queen, did as she asked and at the end of a week, the princess vanished.
Nobody really noticed.
The childminders were dismissed and the palace barber lost his most frequent customer, but none of the courtiers, not even the king, noticed that the princess no longer lived in the castle.
This might have been strange, but the queen announced a second pregnancy just as a neighbouring country declared war and in the ensuing chaos, the princess was largely forgotten.
Meanwhile, the old fairy took the little girl to a tall tower in the middle of a ring of oak trees. There was no door, and one window, right at the top. The old woman left the princess in the tiny attic room, which she had enchanted to provide anything the child needed. That was the last time the princess saw another human face for many, many years.
The spell didn't provide scissors, so the princess's hair grew longer and longer and longer until she had to throw it out the window if she wanted any room.
She always had enough to eat and drink, and lovely clothes (the queen's old nurse considered nice clothes a necessity), but the fairy's spell didn't include toys or books or games and so the girl was very bored. The only thing for her to do was to watch the world from her window.
In the spring birds began to nest in the long curls, and squirrels stole strands for their nests. The princess didn't mind, for she was very, very lonely. She pretended to understand their speech and became very good at mimicking the calls.
One day, she saw some beautiful flowers growing on the ground far below and, without thinking, she said to the robin perched on the window sill,
"Will you fly down and pick me one of those flowers?"
To her surprise, the bird did so and dropped the bloom in her lap.
From that day on, the princess was no longer lonely, for she could speak with the animals. One of her favourites was a raven who liked to hide his shiny trinkets in her hair. He was smarter than most of the other animals, and could talk to her of the world of men. Only when winter covered everything with white did she ever lack for company.
By learning to talk with the animals, the princess had learned to listen to the world and, eventually, she began to hear low, ponderous voices rustle though the leaves of the oak trees. They talked slowly of deep soil and bright sun and brisk winds. Then, she heard the wind's voice. This voice changed all the time, sometimes high and piping, sometimes low and mournful and sometimes raging, but always it brought some treasure: a snippet of market gossip, maybe, or the smell of a faraway spice.
One day, many years after her imprisonment, when her hair had started to pile up on the ground, she heard another voice, deep and golden. It dripped into her ears like honey and filled her mind with light.
Why do you stay inside, lady? Why not come out?
The girl raised her face to the Sun, for it was he who spoke.
"I cannot," she replied sadly, "for there is no door."
The sunlight on her face seemed to blaze a little brighter and the voice replied,
Then I shall tell you of what you cannot see.
Starting that day, the princess never wanted for companionship; the Sun was always willing to tell her stories, and he never ran out, for he had seen all the history of Men. Some days he was playful and teased her and shared silly stories of the foolishness of men. On others, he made her weep, recounting the greatest tragedies solemnly and sadly, for Men are his children and he loves them.
Then, one day, there was no food. The spell had broken, for the old fairy had died. The animals brought her berries and nuts and greens, but it was autumn and soon would come winter and hibernation and migration and that source of food would be lost to her.
Sure enough, by the time the first snow fell, she had grown very thin and weak. So weak, that she could not stir herself to the window and she became pale as milk. The Sun tried to comfort her and warm her, but he could not give her the food she needed. Then one day, he spoke a question.
Will you come to me? We will watch the world together and remember Man's story. Will you shed this flesh that hinders you?
The princess stirred a little. Then she dragged herself to the window.
"I would," she whispered in a cracked, broken voice, "but what must I do?"
Only step out and I will catch you.
The princess slowly climbed to the window sill and stood, swaying. Then, she looked up to the brilliant Sun and stepped out.
Grasping her hands, he drew her to him and kissed her.
Come, my love, let me show you the world.
Her hair spread all around her pale face and covered the sky as she followed the Sun, the raven's shiny treasures glittering in his light.
The people marvelled at the appearance of this second light in the sky and loved her for her beauty.
Years later, when the princess's mother, old and faded, announced the competition to find the lost princess and young men set out in search, many of them stumbled across an old tower, empty, abandoned and oddly lacking in doors, standing at the centre of a ring of oak trees with the wind whistling through the one window.
Nobody ever found the princess.
But, if you look up at night you will see her, still following the Sun and watching the world.