About “Cursed” in a few words:

“Cursed” is a reimagining of the Arthurian legend, told through the eyes of a young woman named Nimue, who is destined to become the Lady of the Lake. Set in a world where magic is forbidden and the Red Paladins hunt down anyone who possesses it, Nimue must navigate a dangerous journey to deliver a powerful sword to Merlin, while also discovering her own powers and destiny. Along the way, she encounters various characters from the Arthurian legend, including King Arthur, Merlin, and Morgana, as well as new characters created for the series. The show is full of action, adventure, and magic, and is a must-watch for fans of fantasy and mythology.

Meet the characters from Cursed

Nimue

Nimue is this fierce, wild-hearted young woman who burns with a kind of righteous fire and also secretly likes to hum to trees — don’t ask why, she just does. She’s brave and stubborn, the sort who learns magic and then uses it like a hammer, tender in one breath and terrifying in the next. There’s a sense of destiny about her but she’s messy and unsure sometimes, full of grief and hope at once. Also she’s oddly sentimental about little things (thimbles? hairpins?) and will both cradle a wounded bird and obliterate a battlefield with equal conviction.

Arthur

Arthur is the imperfect, hopeful king-in-training who wants to do the right thing even when he’s fumbling — terribly noble and achingly insecure all at once. He’s got this bright, sometimes blinding sense of honor that makes him heroic and also very, very stubborn; like he polishes his armor to prove something to himself. He can be naive but he’s learning, and there’s a goofy side (sings when nervous, really — badly) that makes him oddly lovable. He wants legacy and justice and hates to disappoint; also he snores sometimes, which is tragically human.

Merlin

Merlin is equal parts irritable mentor and bafflingly fun uncle who talks to animals and probably has more secrets than a royal treasury. He’s sarcastic and sharp, constantly three steps ahead and also three steps away emotionally, wearing centuries of guilt like a cloak he won’t take off. There’s mischief in his eyes — he’ll teach you spells and then disappear to knit or make tea, and occasionally forget what century it is (not really but close). He’s wise and broken and somehow keeps smiling, which is both adorable and devastating.

The Weeping Monk

The Weeping Monk is terrifying and tragic and you can’t look away — he sobs like he’s lost everything and then acts like suffering is a ritual, all calm hands and cold edges. He’s solemn, driven by grief and a warped kind of devotion, and there’s this creepy tenderness to him that makes you want to understand and run at the same time. He prays and he kills, often in the same sentence; the contradictions are what make him so unnerving. Also he keeps incense in odd places and maybe hums lullabies to statues? Hard to tell, but it’s unsettling and oddly poetic.

King Uther

Uther is the hard-as-iron king who rules with a fist and a broken heart, classic by-the-book monarch with deeply buried vulnerabilities. He’s proud and ruthless when he needs to be, full of old grief and fierce protection — also hypocritical, like he preaches one thing and enforces another, which causes a lot of drama. He can be terrifyingly charismatic and then suddenly petulant, like an emperor who forgot how to apologize. And honestly he probably has a soft spot for stray dogs and will feed them in secret while pretending not to care.

Pym

Pym is this scrappy, unpredictable survivor — cunning, quick with a joke, and kind of smudged at the edges like he’s been thumbed through a lot of bad luck. He’s loyal in a jagged way, fiercely protective of those he calls friends, and also enjoys a bit of chaos because, hey, what else is there? He collects oddities (bottlecaps, arrowheads) and writes tiny poems he will never share, which is weirdly sweet given he’s always ready to fight. Sometimes he’s childish and reckless, other times weirdly profound — it depends on the moon or his mood or the last thing he stole.

Father Carden

Father Carden is the zealot with a serene smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, all sermons and certainty, except when cracks show and you realize he’s terrified. He believes in order and doctrine, and will enforce it with an unnerving calm; compassionate maybe in flashes but mostly rigid. He keeps little ritual objects on him, cleans them with a devotion that borders on obsession, and mutters prayers whether he’s nervous or plotting — can’t tell which. There’s a quiet, almost petulant streak too — like he’d rather be right than liked, even if it costs him everything.

Sister Igraine

Sister Igraine is this fierce, no-nonsense nun who knits, prays, and absolutely can gut you if she has to — gentle hands, iron will. She’s protective, practical, and surprisingly sharp-witted, the kind who tucks a rosary into a boot and then hands you a bandage with one eyebrow raised. She has a soft spot for children and hides a chaotic past under calm robes, plus a talent for small comforts (hot soup, terrible jokes). Also rumor has it she collects buttons and tells stories in the middle of the night — endearing and a little mysterious, like someone who’s seen too much but refuses to stop caring.