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I, Gawain

I feel the warmth of my blood running down from the top of my head and I now know that I shall never again see the light of day. I Gawain have made many terrible and tragic mistakes, yet I still hope that there is a place for me within the realm of my Lord Jesus. Would that my sins be forgiven despite the pain that I have caused those around me, yea, I have caused Camelot to die. This wound I have received is one that I more than well deserve. The pain that I feel is much too little in retribution for the sin that I have caused. O Camelot what have I done to you?When did I become a man bent on destruction? Long ago… so very long ago seems the days when I stood before the great Green Knight. When I stood before my uncle’s table and wielded an axe much too heavy for my hands. I can still feel the cool handle in my hands and I can remember that giant’s dark eyes. I remember striking the blow that cleaved his head off his shoulders. And the amazed looks that we all had when he picked his own head up. He was an awesome wizard through and through. Oh how I miss those days, the days of my youth, of my naivety. The days that Gareth was still enjoying, that he could have enjoyed all his life, had it not been for me.

I refused what he accepted to do. I am no knight, no, I am knave. I should have been in the escort despite my unwillingness of the situation. But Gareth couldn’t refuse Arthur, not the king he loved above all. Gareth was killed by Lancelot and I swore by my blood he would pay. But my vow has brought low our great kingdom of Britain. My blood has been spilled and yet Lancelot goes on. Oh Gareth, my sweet silver hair brother… I… I still hear the cries of Lyonesse, why did I not take your place? Now what should have been one’s couple happiness has been broken. Can God forgive me for this sin?

Memories flicker back to me now, and now I recall my own sweet love. My Lady Ragnelle… oh how he beauty was matchless in all the land. Meeting her was the favorite of my quests, if I were to go back to a time it when she still lived. Funny, I had thought that I would stop mourning over her. But I guess I never shall. I Gawain saved Arthur once long ago back when I still young and I quested for the answer to what women wanted the most. Ragnelle told me sovereynté, to make one’s own decisions. I remember lifting the curse from her and how she went from hag to the most beautiful women… Oh my Lady Ragnelle please be with those who receive my soul.

I have forced a war with Lancelot and I have lost, my liege Arthur has lost, and even now he is to fight Modred. I have damned Arthur, and that damnation will surely follow me into purgatory. I am losing hope for anything else, but that place of fire. What the grail didn’t take of Arthur’s Knights, have been lost with this war against Lancelot. Oh the war that could have been avoided. Arthur would have let go of Guinevere after Lancelot had rescued her. Had not Gareth been killed, I would not have forced Arthur’s hand. But Alas I cannot take back my actions and what is done is done.

How will Bards sing of me? What are to be my legends, and had I have left any sort of name for myself? I Gawain have lost all my honor and will surely disappear into the annals of history. Surely they will prefer tales of Lancelot and Tristan. After all why not, they are called the greatest of the kingdom. Certainly Galahad will have a bigger place then me, that Holy Saint verses I the world’s greatest sinner. All too often I have let anger rule me, I have no excuse for that and I only hope that I can be forgiven for those sins as well. Oh how minor they seem to me when compared to what I have caused.
My sight is failing and I fear that my time has come. I have hopes that the letter I sent to Lancelot might come to him in time to save Arthur. If not then I have doubly failed my king and Camelot is certainly doom. Darkness is starting to surround me, at least I have gone out as all knights wish, from the wounds of battle. Aye, I have my many wounds and yet I could not save Arthur. Whatever honor I had sought is gone. God forgive me, I shiver, why is death this cold? Is not Hell hot? Oh how I have let loose my hopes for home hereafter.

I can barely see, but even I know that I see not my wife, nor my dear brother. I can only see the faces of those who I killed whether justly or unjustly. I shiver again; my warm blood has gone cold. Certainly Hell is what waits. Even Purgatory is too good a place for my soul. Forgive me Camelot, forgive me Lancelot, forgive me my king, and blood, dear Arthur. And forgive me precious Gareth, when Jesus does his judging I ask that you entreat him for me…

Everything is so very… very… dark…

– Le Bel Inconnu

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