He grew up beautiful. Long crimson hair, high cheek bones, eyes as blue as the summer sky, lips like the red rose. His voice could charm birds from the trees and his smile steal your heart in a flash. His body was slim and frail and as dainty as a flower. It was tradition in their clan not to name a child until they had reached a certain age and their nature was revealed, and no one had been surprised at the name his parents had chosen for him. He hated it.
He hated being the center of attention. Hated being courted from as young as twelve by males and females of both his own clan and others, to be adored and worshipped and desired.
From a young age he dreamt of ruining his face, of getting mauled by a bear or a wolf or having some tragic accident that would leave him permanently scarred. It was ridiculous of course, the keeper watched him like a hawk and never let him as much as stub his toe.
"You are beautiful" she'd admonish him. "people listen to what you say." but she was wrong. Nobody ever listened to what he had to say: they only expected him to be lovely. The fact that he was reasonably intelligent was insignificant. He would have been equally adored if he had been as dumb as a rock. Sometimes, he honestly didn't know why he bothered learning anything. But at the same time he had a thirst for knowledge that was eating him up inside, a desire so intense it overshadowed everything. A desire to be acknowledge for something else than his beauty. For his voice to be listened to, not only because if the sweet melody that fell from his lips whenever he parted them. But more than that, he ached to be loved for more than his pretty face.
He had no hope of ever having any of it, though. He might be the keeper's apprentice, but nobody ever recognized him as such; all they saw was his appearance. The only one who could even understand a little of what he was feeling was his twin sister, and even she did not fully understand, couldn't understand. She was pretty, but nowhere near his loveliness. Her voice was heard when she spoke; listened to, respected. He was wiser than her, saw more, knew more - and yet whenever he spoke, he was met by indulgent smiles and sooner or later someone calling him lovely. Or worse, they would tell him how fitting his name was.
He hated all of it. That was why he convinced his sister to let him go to conclave instead of her. It was his chance to be something more than lovely, to rise above the name his parents had given him.
To be something more than just Winsome.