Personality

an innate drive for justice, compassionate and honourable about the cause
loyal and protective of his family, and those in need of help
driven to be the best, bitter about Lautrec, disappointed by lack of success
angered by injustice, quick to rush in without second thought
guiltridden by what happened in the tower, disgraced from his position

He'd never been the golden son. No, he wasn't the sun, the light, but he was good, good enough. At least until Lautrec joined the family. That's when it all changed, really. He'd turned sour. It had carried into adulthood, and though the target of his sneers changed, he was still angry. And when he became more involved with the other nobles, their war-making plans, his anger only grew - this time towards the injustice of it all. 

So he became a knight. Noble and true, compassionate, yet unknowledgeable of the struggles of others. While his passion for serving justice was noble on its own, his rush to help without thinking twice more often than not turns out to be a bad idea.

Yet he tries and tries. Grows with each passing month with the Third Order. More knowledgeable, open. Regretful of the blood he's spilled. Protective of the weak, loyal to those who need his help. Even more loyal and protective of his brothers and the Third Order. 

Right now, his mind is riddled with guilt, for everything that happened in that damned tower. For everyone he abandoned, for those killed within, for the blood spilled. For the lies they told. For being sent away, a deserved punishment. 

He's got a knack for charm, though he hates to admit it. Raised a noble, it seemed just one skill of many to have, but he'd rather avoid using it. He's honourable, hates lying and would rather tell the truth than be dishonoured (except with the tower. He wouldn't dare go back, though he hates what it turned him into).

He's a little lost, trying to find his way in a new place, while he navigates the guilt that plagues him. He is still compassionate, noble of heart and true to his words, but a true knight he is not. Not anymore. 

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History

As the first light touched his face, on the day he was born, he felt the warmth of a second soul beside him. From the moment he was brought into the world he would be accompanied by another. He wouldn't be alone in this world, and for that he was grateful. When he raged, Gahaeriés would be there to calm him, and when Gahaeriés worried, he'd be there to take care of his troubles. Never alone, always someone to speak to, to play with, to train with. 

He was grateful for that, the security it brought, the confidence in numbers, sharing his worries with someone who knew. Nevermind being a twin, he was also lucky to have doting parents. First born in the family, alongside his twin, they carried the legacy of a family name on their shoulders. Along a legacy came the strict rules and training in keeping the family name clean and proper. Stand up straight, hold your head high. Be respectful, but do not accept any insults to the family name. Do not fight, unless challenged. Know when to speak and when to hold your tongue. Do not disappoint. 

And though he grew up alongside of his twin brother, he wouldn't be alone for long. At three Gahariet came into the world, a mere year later accompanied by Agravainé. As the oldest brothers, they had not only a responsibility of looking after their siblings, but also to keep them on the path of nobility, just as they were taught. For all the recklessness Gawainé clearly showed, he seemed to sober up when it came to the youngest of the family. A feeling of protectiveness, making sure they knew how to behave and stayed out of trouble - proving easier said than done, as Agra had a flair for either getting into trouble or summoning it.

But he didn't mind. That was okay. Father was strict but fair, and mother was loving. They figured it out, they always did. As they grew up, Gawainé saw the world a little differently from his twin. A little less kind, a little less fair. The wars they dictacted, in the room full of aristocrats, it didn't seem fair. Yet, he held his tongue, like he was told. He didn't speak up. Merely a storm brewing in silence. 

And as he got older, the path to knighthood began. As soon as it did, Lautrec entered their family. Where he had been the oldest, the most experienced. Father's first born and the heir to the family name, alongside his twin, came Lancelot. Breaking down all Gawainé had worked for. And though they welcomed him with open arms, once it felt less awkward, Gawainé kept his distance. Like a hunter prowling, watching it's prey from a distance, Gawainé took note of Lautrec. A few years his senior, yet experienced with the blade and a mage as well. 

He observed. Noted that he wasn't the oldest anymore, nor the most experienced. Noticed how Lautrec seemed so well adjusted so quickly. How his siblings loved their new brother, how even father had taken in this bastard without second thought. He couldn't see how it was a good thing, didn't like being cast aside like that. Didn't see that he was welcome to join, but refused to do so. He'd painted a picture of this new situation, tainted by feelings of betrayal, and it didn't set Lancelot in a good light. 

With the family dynamic ruined, he once more returned his focus to that of the path to knighthood. Tried regaining his passion for fighting injustice. He wanted to be out there on the front lines, stop anyone who dared oppose the crown, their home, the safety of others. Not speaking up, keeping his mouth shut, but quick to rush forward - without Gahaeriés, he'd have been in much more trouble. 

He'd grown up sheltered from the struggles of men, and though he felt sympathy for the wars fought by knights, he felt no sympathy for those who struggled with poverty, with illness. Not because he didn't care, but because he didn't understand. Where some would see someone struggling, Gawainé saw a thief. Where some saw self defense, Gawainé saw murder. Gahaeriés often had to calm him down, tell him that there were two sides to every coin, even if it didn't look that way.

As Lautrec joined the Third Order, Gawainé felt some peace. For just a few years, it felt like things were back to normal, yet he didn't feel happier. He'd raged on for so long, that it felt like the only thing he knew. Without the source of his rage, he started to take it out on others. A sneer here and there, a look that could kill, kicking the dirt in frustration.

He didn't change for the better, but he started learning. Surely, he learned to ask questions first, listen to Gaheris and the others, but he was still as reckless. Still first to swing, first to get blood on his hands. Persevering the grace of his siblings in exchange for his own. And it was this loyalty, this willingness to fight for injustice, that brought Gahaeriés and himself to the Third Order, at the age of 22. 

And things were better, for some time. He learned to listen to others (not that he wasn't used to this already, having a bit of a strict father and a twin who often sighed at his recklessness). He learned to cooperate, seeing things from multiple sides though he was still one of the first to charge when needed. Not afraid to get his hands bloody when it came to the defense of his brothers, who now included several more. 

It wasn't until that fucking tower that things went wrong. He'd stayed close to his brothers, Lautrec showing his seniority within the Third Order by following Arthur into the belly of the beast. Truly, they hadn't known what to expect, and they quickly found themselves powerless. The Rot was simply unlike anything they'd ever experienced before, and nothing could have ever prepared them for this. He'd stayed close to Harry, but the Navarro Tower's library, that labyrinth of damned knowledge, that's where it really went wrong. 

Agra was the first to be separated from them. One moment there, the next gone, only rot in place of where she should've been. That's when panic started to seize Gawainé. He'd lost his sister first. Rot where she should've been. He convinced them to go back, just for a moment, try to find her. Screaming her name for what felt like hours, but it didn't help. 

Next was Gahariet. This time they saw it happen and he could've sworn that he could've done something. But after Agra's disappearance within the maze, Harry had become cautious, and next thing they knew, they were screaming, one reaching for the rot, the other dragging the other away. Another man gone. This time they didn't go looking, knowing the rot would do something if they tried. The place was a maze, and there was nothing they could do. It was Harry who had found the others, Gawainé too busy keeping an eye out for the rot, for a sign of anyone familiar.

When they emerged from the tower, he kept his mouth shut. He looked to his hand, covered in blood. Merciless as he'd been, slaying the corrupted pupils and teachers within, he felt the guilt crash down on him finally. For abandoning Gahariet, for finally reuniting with Agra and seeing her alive yet having let her down. For slaying what was once human, forgetting the humanity that had been theirs once. 

His hands were bloody, broken, and he had no one to blame but himself. And all the things he'd done before, before that fucking tower, he felt bad about it all. He was thankful that Agra was still here. Horrified at those who were gone, had lost parts of themselves within that tower.

He didn't say a word, when Lamorak lied about the tower. He didn't want to, couldn't, go back to that tower. Couldn't lose his family once more. And though he'd grown to respect Lautrec, at least some, he grew colder towards him after this. He hadn't been there, seen Agra disappear and Gahariet being consumed by the rot, not like he and Harry had witnessed.

His guilt was crushing him, and when they were sent to Ivras, disgraced knights, criminals, traitors to the crown and their homeland, undeserving of everything they'd earned, he felt like he deserved it. He can still hear the voices of the rot when he sleeps. The questions that seemed more like taunts. He still sees bloody hands when he looks to his own, never clean no matter how much he tries. He still feels guilt when he sees Agra, and hollow when he sees Gahariet. 

Unforgivable. 

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