beetle

Eriantiel stood outside her home, wrapping herself in a green cloak as she tried to comfort herself. As the cool morning breeze swept through, the princess closed her eyes as she placed a hand over herself; her heart aching in pain and in grief. It finally dawned on her - Uther, her grandfather, was dead. The man who taught her almost everything was one of the main reasons she was still alive, to this day. Tears quietly rolled down her face, relieved to know he would rest peacefully, escaping the utter chaos of their world.

With a trembling hand, the missive was crushed within the Princess Royal's palm. Her heart sank, guilt rising - her family's work, gone nearly instant. How could her brother do this? How could she let this happen?

It had been only a few years since Eriantiel had returned home, supporting Rúnagleth whenever she could - an attempt to cover up the years lost. (will write more later, i just really want to eat my dinner rn)

MC Name: beetleco Discord: dovesletter Image: Description of Image: A motivational poster of Eriantiel Dimensions: 1 wide, 2 high

MC Name: beetleco Discord: dovesletter Image: Description of Image: A portrait of the Princess Royal of Númendil Dimensions: 1 wide, 2 high

[!] Copies of the missive were sent out to every home within the Kingdom of Númendil. One extra copy was slipped under Anorhil’s door. The letter was unsigned, no soul knew who wrote it. O THE FALSE SHEPHERD, TITLED AS THE “APOSTOLIC KING OF IDUNIA”, There is no peace, no matter how much you claim there is to be. Innocent blood is on your hands. You state that you have honored your daughter with a treaty, a forced one. Only to be done such after the fact, she had passed; a weak attempt to save face. You are no King. You are no Savior of Idunia. You are the False Shepherd. There is no truth, there is no peace, only lies you have created and spread. It’s only a matter of time before your head is served on a plate. Tread carefully, Anorhil.

The cabin’s door was softly knocked, a letter slipped through the opening underneath. It caught the attention of the Princess, stopping her current routine - why did the carrier leave without a word? Sudden, yet faint, Eriantiel felt fear. Something had happened. She rushed over to obtain the letter, ripping its seal, reading it over. Again and again. Eriantiel was with her niece only a saint's day ago, attempting to be of aid. To comfort her, to remind Nóruiel of her bravery and determination - in hopes of saving her from any harm of the war, or perhaps the King who haunted them. The Princess had given her options: to run, to hide, a new life with a new face. But it was never a choice of death. Her family had failed her, her brothers, her father - she had failed Nóruiel. But Eriantiel realized something, there was no curse amongst the two, the curse was within someone else. Someone of true evil and cruelness - the false shepherd. The one who had thrown her out; he had done the same with Nóruiel. The blood was on his hands. The Princess Royal grabbed her cloak and her father’s blade. She knew what to do.

IGN: beetleco Persona: Marisol/Rosalind Persona ID: 79398

The Princess Royal hummed happily, sewing the King's wedding attire.

"My dearest niece is to be queen and yet, this other princess, is getting all the attention?" Eriantiel glanced over the invitation with disappointment. "This, I cannot allow."

Marisol beams with pride.

The letter had reached the docks, the carrier ran to the Princess Royal - stopping her in her tracks. "Oh? What is this?" A gloved hand reached for the notice, reading it over. Once. Twice. She couldn't believe it. The girl she grew jealous of, the girl she admired, the girl she wished to be. Now dead. The world was cruel, Eriantiel knew that. "May you rest well. They won't forget you."

The Princess Royal of Númendil stared at the missive. Only for a second before glancing at her right hand; it had been years since she had the engagement ring, one gifted by Glyndwr. Then she folded up the invitation, hiding it amongst the other letters. Eriantiel pretended she never saw it.

Eriantiel was silent when the Tar had announced the news, nervously tapping the armrest of her chair. War was her childhood, so was her mother's, and now her own kin faced the same fate. A cruel, unbroken cycle of the Arthalion's. This time, she refused to partake, taking a neutral side of it all.