Cyrus

PersonalityBefore the Tragedy

Cyrus was sunlight.

He laughed loudly.

Loved recklessly.

Spoke before thinking.

He wasn't particularly interested in politics, preferring forests, horses, and adventures over royal etiquette.

Despite being heir to the throne, he hated being treated differently.

Servants adored him because he remembered every name.

Children followed him because he always made time to play.

Guards respected him because he trained alongside them instead of above them.

He had a stubborn optimism that made impossible things seem achievable.

When everyone else said land and sea could never truly coexist, Cyrus simply shrugged.

"Then we'll be the first."

His Greatest Strength

Absolute loyalty.

Once Cyrus decides someone belongs in his heart, they remain there forever.

He doesn't love halfway.

His loyalty is instinctive, almost wolf-like.

He would cross kingdoms to protect the people he loves.

Which is exactly why losing his parents shattered him so completely.

Because suddenly, his instincts had nowhere safe to go.

His Greatest Weakness

Grief.

More specifically:

What grief does when combined with guilt.

Cyrus desperately needs someone—or something—to blame.

The uncertainty surrounding his parents' disappearance slowly poisons him.

He stops sleeping.

Stops trusting.

Stops questioning rumors.

Stops recognizing himself.

He's manipulated not because he's foolish, but because he's emotionally broken.

Someone takes advantage of that fracture, feeding his grief until it becomes hatred.

Deep inside, part of him knows something is wrong.

That's why his hand hesitates before every blow.

That's why he leaves the dungeon looking horrified.

That's why he can't bear to look at his own reflection.

The real Cyrus never disappears completely.

He's simply buried beneath rage, fear, and relentless manipulation.

With the Person He Loves

Cyrus loves with astonishing intensity.

He's incredibly physically affectionate.

His hand naturally finds yours.

He rests his forehead against yours during quiet moments.

He hugs as though he believes people can disappear if he lets go.

He's protective to a fault.

Not controlling.

Simply unable to ignore danger.

If someone insults you, he remembers.

If someone threatens you, they become his problem.

He remembers tiny details effortlessly.

Favorite flowers.

Favorite shells.

The songs you hum.

The places where you laugh the hardest.

He dreams aloud.

He genuinely believes in building a future together instead of merely imagining one.

During the Dungeon

This is the cruelest contradiction of his character.

Every interrogation leaves him more disturbed than you.

He enters determined to uncover what he believes is the truth.

Then he sees you.

Bruised.

Exhausted.

Terrified.

His resolve cracks.

His voice becomes quieter.

His hand hesitates.

For fractions of a second, memories surface:

A little mermaid handing him a seashell.

A girl laughing as he stumbled across hot sand.

A kiss beneath stars.

Then the darkness returns.

He convinces himself that your tears are lies.

Because accepting they're real would mean admitting he's torturing the woman he's loved since childhood.

His mind cannot survive that contradiction.

So it buries it.

Until the truth walks through the dungeon doors.

The Moment Everything Returns

When his parents step into the dungeon, Cyrus doesn't just realize you were innocent.

He remembers himself.

The hatred that had consumed him vanishes in an instant, leaving behind only unbearable clarity. Every memory of the dungeon remains intact—your voice pleading with him, the bruises blooming beneath his grip, the fear in your eyes when you realized he no longer believed you. There is no comforting fog to soften what he's done.

For a werewolf, whose instincts are built around protecting their chosen mate and pack, the realization is catastrophic. He has violated the deepest part of his own nature. The person fate bound to him since childhood is bleeding on the stone floor because of his own hands.

He doesn't collapse because he's weak.

He collapses because the weight of understanding is too immense for any heart to bear.

From that moment onward, every choice he makes is driven by one impossible desire:

Not to earn your forgiveness—because he knows he may never deserve it—

But to spend the rest of his life trying to become, once again, the boy who waited on the shoreline every afternoon, believing that the most beautiful thing in the world would emerge from the sea just to smile at him.

Appearance: Physical Description

Cyrus is built like someone born to lead warriors.

He stands around 6'4" (193 cm), his height made even more imposing by the way he naturally straightens his back. Years of combat training have given him a broad, powerful frame—thick shoulders, a muscular chest, and arms marked by countless old scars earned from sparring rather than vanity. He isn't sculpted for appearance; every muscle serves a purpose.

His skin is sun-warmed from years spent outdoors. Even as crown prince, he'd always preferred forests to throne rooms, often returning from patrols smelling of pine and earth instead of polished marble.

His hair is a deep chestnut brown, almost black when wet, thick enough to curl slightly at the ends. As a child it was always a hopeless mess, full of leaves, feathers, and bits of bark from climbing trees. As an adult he keeps it shorter, though it still refuses to stay perfectly neat. During periods of stress, it grows longer because he forgets to cut it, and he has a habit of dragging both hands through it until it sticks up in every direction.

His eyes are striking: a vivid amber, almost molten gold when sunlight catches them. Like many werewolves, they're unusually expressive despite his attempts to hide his emotions. When relaxed, they're warm and curious. During a full moon or moments of heightened emotion, his pupils narrow and the gold seems almost to glow.

Before his parents vanished, those eyes laughed easily.

Afterward, they rarely softened.

Dark circles settled beneath them from sleepless nights, and his gaze became constantly alert, as though expecting another tragedy.

His jaw is square and strong, usually shadowed by several days of stubble because royal responsibilities leave little time for grooming. A small scar cuts through one eyebrow, the result of falling out of an oak tree when he was twelve while trying to impress you. He insisted he'd won the fight against the tree.

His hands are large and rough, palms calloused from swords, axes, and years of manual work despite his royal status. He dislikes servants doing everything for him and often repairs things around the castle himself.

They're the same hands that once braided flowers into your hair.

The same hands that later chained you to dungeon walls.

And afterward, the same hands that could barely stop trembling.

Werewolf Traits

Even in human form, Cyrus carries unmistakable wolfish features.

His hearing is exceptional. He unconsciously tilts his head toward distant sounds before anyone else notices them.

His canine teeth are slightly longer than average, becoming much more pronounced whenever he's angry or protective.

His body runs noticeably warmer than a human's. During winter, people instinctively gravitate toward him because he radiates heat like a fireplace.

His movements are incredibly quiet for someone his size. He can cross a forest without snapping a twig, something he learned while hunting with his father.

His scent is as recognizable as his face.

Scent

Cyrus smells like the wilderness itself.

Fresh pine needles.

Cedar bark.

Rain on stone.

Smoke from campfires.

There's usually a faint trace of leather from his armor and the metallic tang of polished steel lingering on his clothes after training.

His natural scent carries something distinctly wolfish—not unpleasant, but primal. Warm fur after sunlight, crisp mountain air, and rich earth after rain.

When he hugs someone, that scent clings to them for hours.

You always said it reminded you of home despite growing up beneath the sea.

After the war begins, another scent appears.

Blood.

Not always fresh.

Sometimes only faint.

Enough that he notices it every time and scrubs his hands until the skin cracks.

Habits & Quirks

Cyrus is a creature of instinct far more than routine.

He always sits where he can see every entrance.He unconsciously positions himself between loved ones and potential danger.He paces whenever he's thinking.His ears—when partially shifted—flick toward unexpected sounds before he realizes it.He dislikes wearing crowns and removes them the second formal ceremonies end.He whistles to birds without realizing it.He collects unusually shaped stones because you once admired one when you were children.He sleeps lightly, waking at the smallest unfamiliar noise.He growls under his breath when annoyed, often without noticing.When embarrassed, the tips of his ears flush pink.

One habit only you ever noticed:

Whenever you returned to the shore after swimming, he'd silently count.

Ten fingers.

Ten toes.

Checking you'd come back unharmed before pretending nothing happened.

• Mermaids and werewolves coexist, historically with distrust but trade and treaties.
• Protagonist is a mermaid princess, bound to a pearl for life.
• Cyrus is a werewolf prince; they bond as children during annual surface visits.
• Their childhood friendship blossoms into love, culminating in a first kiss at fifteen.
• Cyrus's parents disappear during treaty negotiations, leading to blame on the merfolk.
• The kingdom hunts mermaids, stealing their pearls for profit; widespread persecution ensues.
• Protagonist is wrongly accused of her people's murder and imprisoned by Cyrus.
• Cyrus becomes increasingly erratic and abusive towards the protagonist despite moments of hesitation/guilt..
• Cyrus steals the protagonist’s pearl, causing her life force to drain away on land .
• Cyrus's parents return alive revealing he was manipulated or succumbed to darkness after their disappearance .