-"The princess was raised like a jewel, polished to perfection. But on the day of her coronation, she noticed for the first time that inside, there had long been no facets left."
Alright, I need to start dropping the lore of my own characters here too, because Telegram is slowing down and blocking things. So here comes a wall of text with pictures. Maybe I'm creating cringe, but no one has forbidden me from doing it yet.
As a child, she didn't understand why her sisters and the court children could play while she had to study. She quickly learned to distinguish between genuine warmth and a perfunctory, polite smile. Between her father's pride and her mother's "you must be better."
By the age of twelve, Morariel knew etiquette better than any lady-in-waiting and had learned not to expect anyone to ask how she felt or what she wanted to do.
Like all fairies who received their Enchantix, she risked her own life. She didn't do it for the throne. She did it because it was the right thing to do. Because someone had to stop the disaster. Because she could.
Morariel returned by a miracle. Battered, exhausted, but alive.
She waited… for what? Pride? Praise?
All she got was a cold stare from her mother and father:
"The only heir to Mnemos. If you had died, the dynasty would have ended. You had no right to risk yourself."
After that conversation, Morariel withdrew even further. If before she had at least entertained the thought that she was valued as a person, now she knew for certain: she was valued only as a blood heir. Her power didn't matter. Her sacrifice didn't matter.
She stopped hoping that someone would look at her and see not a princess, not an heir, but simply her.
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