Doubt can only be removed by action.
Miwlir is not sure when she started to doubt everything.
She sometimes wonders if it was the first time Sauron was defeated by the last alliance of men and elves. When her father and the other Nine, and by extension her, were nothing more but long forgotten scary legends mothers tell their children before bedtime.
She is sure her naive thoughts were finally crushed when they followed the halflings though.
Her father had tasked her to follow the halfling Baggins, in search of the Ring, just like the other wraiths. As if she was nothing more than a servant, and not his own daughter.
Maradh is not allowed to come, because the Dark Lord does not trust her.
But Miwlir does. And before, her word had been enough for her father, no matter what the Dark Lord says.
But he has changed, Miwlir can see it. While her father and the others still follow the Dark Lord blindly, Miwlir has began to doubt him.
She starts to wonder more and more if she has made the right choice.
When she and the other wraiths fail to bring the halflings, her father had been furious. It is the first time he has ever shouted at her in centuries.
Even before when she was a child and much more mischievous, he barely ever did.
But Maradh makes it clear it is not worth it, and Miwlir let's it go.
The seed of doubt is really planted when they are following the she-elf and the halfling, who looks more dead than alive on the horse at this point.
The horse the she-elf rides is fast, really fast. Miwlir can feel the strain her mare is under, the black beauty galloping at the front of the group, her mouth frotting, coat wet with sweat.
Even Maradh's warg, who is one of the fastest of the group, is barely catching up to the she-elf.
"We are losing her!" She hears her father hiss in Black Speech.
"We are already going as fast as we can!" Miwlir hisses back angrily, but giving her mare another nudge.
The she-elf crosses a river, and something just feels off. Ancient magic is at work here, and not their kind.
Miwlir's mare bucks, standing on her hind legs as she whines in fear. She steps back, not wanting to touch the water at all.
Her father is beseeching the elf to give up the hafling, but Miwlir and Maradh are not paying attention. They are looking to each other, seemingly having a conversation with their eyes.
Does Maradh have doubts too?
'Miwlir.' The Witch-King of Angmar hisses again, and even though Miwlir has her doubts and her mare is still whining in fear, ears flat, she follows her father.
'You stay, Maradh.' Miwlir whispers quietly.
It is only when they are in the middle of the river and the she-elf starts to whisper something, that Miwlir understands. She is speaking Elvish, and there is power coming off her words.
Miwlir only hears the call of her name, as her mare starts prancing, the other Nine making their horses gallop the other way.
The Witch-King's daughter hood falls off, and later on, Arwen cannot get the expression that was on her face out of her head.
She looked absolutely terrified.
The wraiths are soon engulfed by water, as is Miwlir. And even though technically she cannot die, the fear that is pulsing through her is very real.
It is Maradh that ends up saving her from the river.
Days later, deep in the bowels of Minas Morgul, Miwlir is still shaken by what happened.
She understands now. They are nothing important, not to the Dark Lord. Sauron would gladly give her and the others up as collateral damage if that means his plan succeeds.
And it scares Miwlir, more than she ever dared to think. Even with her vast amount of power, to Sauron she means nothing.
And sometimes she wonders, if her father has started to feel that way too.