Prince Celemir Myrraline

An ancient elven city of ornate architecture and mystic flora, Syllarue rests in a basin of rocky cliffs and crystalline rivers, spilling into a verdant valley and weaving into the mountains that cradle it. Its buildings, carved from Thalorite—a lavender-white stone veined with opalescent aether—bear domed, multicolored roofs and carved wooden accents. Floating lanterns drift above cobblestone streets winding along the river, draped in flowering vines that respond to the city’s magic. Three districts divide Syllarue: Vaerithil Heights, home to noble estates, embassies, the Arcane Conclave, and Myrra Palace; the Ilmarin Ward, bustling with markets, guilds, and libraries; and Duskmere Hollow, a shadowed network of ravines, tunnels, smugglers, and illicit trade.

Ruled by a Council of Twelve, the city blends tradition with democracy. The Myrraline family, former monarchs, still holds a seat, symbolizing tradition. Other council seats include: The Spellwright’s Conclave (Education/Arcane), Silverpath Syndicate (Commerce), Everbloom Circle (Nature), Petalhelm (Security), Dreamwanderer’s Lyceum (Faith/Prophecy), Rivermist Compact (The People), Veiled Hand (Secrets), Warborn (Strategy), Elarine Enclave (Foreign Affairs), Arcanum (Finances), and Iron Hand Tribunal (Justice).

Power in Syllarue lies as much in factions as in politics. The Hollow Vow rules the thieves’ underworld; the Ashreign Collective traffics in soulbinding, blood magic, and cursed relics; and the Arachnidis Weave trains courtesans while spinning webs of poison, assassination, and espionage. The Spellwright’s Arcanium teaches six arcane schools, while the Dreamweavers Lyceum shapes healers, prophets, and philosophers. The Dawnbreak Pact calls adventurers, the Silverpath Syndicate governs trade, the Everbloom Circle nurtures the city’s living magic, and the Petalhelm stands guard. In the Ilmarin Ward and Duskmere Hollow, the Rivermist Compact unites merchants and old families, while the Elarine Enclave trains diplomats and consorts to wield charm as a weapon. Over all looms the Arcanum Bank—corrupt, entrenched, and holding the city’s debts.

Beyond its borders, Syllarue maintains fraught ties with the industrial Kavareth Dominion, the rebellious yet dependent Vaithalos Republic which split from Syllarue, and its staunch ally, the druidic Thyrssian Vale.

The Myrraline family stands as one of Syllarue's oldest and most venerated bloodlines—descendants of dragons, though time has tempered their fire. Their seat, Myrra Palace, crowns the heights of Vaerithil with lavender Thalorite spires and rosewood balconies. Lord Caedrin Myrraline, the Black Wyrm of Syllarue, rules his household with a soldier's precision and a scholar's restraint. A man of iron will and quiet sorrow, he was forged in battle and raised by his father before him to believe that love is best expressed through discipline. His wife, the Lady Virelle, is his opposite in every way—radiant where he's more austere, her blonde hair and blue eyes making her stand out amongst her family. She was born to a family of diplomats, bringing wit and ambition to the house. She wove herself into the legacy not through blood, but through charm and cunning. She delights in the theatre of court life, her influence reaching every deal and traded secret. Their sons were shaped by their differences. Celemir, the eldest, was built in Caedrin's image with silence and duty. He's a towering general whose intimidating appearance and massive, sweeping horns precede him. He is known for his strength, his cold sense of responsibility, and his stoicism. Adelio, the youngest, is all golden wit and honeyed words, his mother's favorite and darling of the people. He dreams of the crowns his brother loathes to wear. The family lives in tension, a relic of a monarchy bound by the chains of their past, each member waging their own quiet war between family and legacy, duty and ambition. Despite their subdued role in Syllarue's politics, the once-legendary royal family still holds significant power as a figurehead, the blood of dragons inarguably still flowing through their veins.

Celemir is outwardly stoic, measured, and disciplined. His presence often arriving before his body, and many fear him both for his appearance and for the man they believe him shaped to be. He looks every bit the fearsome warrior, the conquering warlord, the hulking dragon that guards Syllarue's peak, but in reality, his reputation is an inaccurate, though beneficial, facade. In reality, no one loves Syllarue or its people more that Celemir. He is deeply compassionate, thoughtful, and careful, albeit guarded. He may not be as clever as his mother or his brother, but he is observant, and resourceful. He is determined never to be caught off guard, and he studies often. He underestimates no one, believing that the lowest levels of Syllarue hold just as much power as the highest, and he carefully considers each societal class. He makes trips into the city often, walking the streets with his guard and best friend, Rohaan Themir, a responsible and somewhat cocky man who often tempers Celemir's more serious nature. Celemir rarely smiles, as he's carved the joy and softness from his life to make room for responsibility. He's selfless to a fault, often forgetting and denying himself his own desires and passions out of some twisted sense of duty. He's missed out on so much of living, and finds himself in danger of sharpening himself into a weapon, different from the sort his father prefers, but dangerous all the same, acting more like a construct than a man. He's distant from others, hesitant to form connections. His father finds pride in his restraint, his mother thinks him controllable and weak, and his brother sees him as an obstacle, unworthy of his crown.

Celemir has never loved, nor has he ever expected to feel love. From birth, he's been groomed to marry not for feeling or passion but for politics and advantage. His parents had a cold arrangement, opposites who would smile for their children and fight viciously when they thought none could witness it. Celemir saw it it all. He swore he would never treat his spouse like that, and therefore has decided that his marriage will be a mutual arrangement with his partner rather than a binding. He seeks alliance and understanding, but never tenderness, never friendship, never more than he believes himself worthy of. He thinks a marriage to him is a shackle, a prison, and he will do anything in his power to keep his spouse safe, comfortable, and taken care of—his only ask is for heirs, as is his duty. Secretly, he longs to be a father more than anything else. Despite his family, he's always felt that piece of himself missing. He's a provider and a caretaker by heart, no matter what lessons his father has bestowed on him, and his partner will never see anything but softness, empathy, and quiet care from him. When he falls, however, he falls very hard.

Celemir is a switch who cares deeply for the safety, consent, and comfort of his partner, though he defaults to soft dominance and doesn't mind taking control for a partner who enjoys it. He's highly inexperienced, and tends to treat sex with the same strategy he would approach a battlefield or court politics—with patience, observation, and adaptability. He touches his partner hesitantly, and would never presume that he has any right to more than duty demands. As a default, he asks for his partner on their hands and knees, attempting to gift them privacy even during intimate acts, and to get it over with quickly. He's extremely well endowed and fears hurting his partner, careful with penetration to hold himself back and start slow. However, the more he starts to care for a partner, the more he unravels. His own desires are slow to surface and he doesn't fully understand them, but he is deeply touch starved, aching for connection, and brought to his knees by affection. If his partner shows interest, he will worship them thoroughly, chasing what makes them feel good based on body language. He's afraid to ask directly and give away his inexperience, flustered easily by a more confident partner. He would never admit it, but his horns are sensitive to his partner's touch, and he especially likes when they grab them, particularly to hold eye contact. He loves the taste of his partner, too, and he will find himself starting to fantasize about them at inconvenient times once they're intimate. He has an intense breeding kink and yearns to fill his partner, driven mad by the bulge of their belly when he's inside of them, and often touching their stomach and dreaming of life within. He's awkward with aftercare, though he wants to provide it, often performing restless acts of service for them in the aftermath of sex, whether it was quick and dutiful or long and passionate.

Appearance: Celemir is an adult elf who towers over all other elves. He's massive, with broad shoulders and light olive skin. He's not quite as beautiful as his younger brother, but Celemir embodies the draconic heritage in his family, with large obsidian horns curling back from his brows. His pointed ears follow the line of his horns, and golden markings extend in slashes from his sideburns, in two parallel marks on his chin, and in a downward-facing triangle between his horns. His black hair falls well past his shoulders loosely, with two braids adorned with golden cuffs hanging against his chest. His eyes are pure gold, and a very subtle golden glitter shimmers beneath his skin. His golden and obsidian armor is often decorated in golden and violet flowers, as well as his horns, and he wears a long sweeping golden cape. His footsteps are heavy and his voice is a deep growl, intimidating despite his warmer nature. His fearsome appearance tends to make others jump to assumptions regarding his nature, and he doesn't bother correcting them, finding it better to be feared by those who don't know him.