#Instead I'm amusing myself by writing about Tav from the perspective of the person who probably dislikes him the most

[angstofdestiny]

Brother’s Genitivi letter to an unknown scholar

Dear friend!

Thank you for your letter. Your descriptions of the wonders of Antiva were most enlightening. I find it fascinating that the myth of the Witch of the Wilds appears also there, in such a similar form — it would be absolutely thrilling if we could learn what caused such a similar fairytale to appear in such distant regions as Ferelden and Antiva. I believe there might be some truth to these stories, given that I have met an apostate — I am fairly sure that she was a maleficar as well — who fancied herself to be one. Of course, she was far from the mighty being described in the stories, but let me tell you, the cruelty and mischievous nature was present in her just like in the Witch of the legends.

You would probably ask how did I encounter such a vile character — and accidentally, this leads me to your questions about the Hero of Ferelden. The Witch has been traveling in his company, a valued comrade, if you might imagine! That should give you some inclinations to the Warden-Commander’s character, I believe. I still find it astonishing that King Alistair and Sister Nightingale allowed that despicable man to lead their mission. The only thing I can imagine is that the elf has somehow threatened His Majesty into submission. Was it blackmail, or maybe simply he used his assassin to intimidate the King, I do not know. What did he do to Sister Nightingale — that’s anyone’s guess.

As you can see, I do not have a high opinion of this man. I have met him twice — and the first time was in the circumstances most dire, when I have been captured by the heretics in the village of Haven during my search for the Urn of the Sacred Ashes. He had bandaged my wounds and shared an elfroot concoction, that is true, but his motivations were far from noble. He was looking for the Urn as well, to bring the Ashes to Arl Eamon Guerrin and needed a guide who would lead him to the Temple. Were it not for his quest, I believe he would gladly leave me to die — though I doubt the good King Alistair would stand for it.

He was surly and unpleasant when we went up the mountain. What caught my attention was the coldness in his eyes and the cruel set of his jaw as well as these barbaric Dalish tattoos covering his face; but I was telling myself that this must be a good man, tired with his trials. I did not dare to think what would become of me if the signs I read in his face were true.

Quickly I have noticed, that having such noble people as the King and Sister Nightingale with him, he still sought counsel and company of the assassin — his infamous Crow lover — and the Witch. From the conversations I have overheard I have learned also that shortly before they found me, Commander Mahariel has killed another companion of theirs, an oxman from Par Vollen. At the time I believed what I heard — that the oxman turned out to be too dangerous to keep them company and too dangerous to be let go — but knowing what I know now I think that it was more of a spat between two savages that ended in bloodshed. It would not surprise me to learn that the Warden-Commander put the oxman down motivated only by his thirst for blood.

They went into the Temple, leaving me under care of Sister Leliana — what a delightful girl she was at the time! — who was very reluctant to share anything about Commander Mahariel or his less savory companions. She spoke about him nicely, saying that he was very young and fairly lost in the world of humans, but I could see it in her face that she had a hard time coming up with anything positive to say. Finally, she told me he was really dedicated to stopping the Blight and very good with animals. The latter does not surprise with a Dalish savage, and till today I believe that his dedication to his mission was his only redeeming quality.

The trouble started later, when they left the Temple. They have never told me what occurred there, but they all seemed shaken by the events. Mahariel grew silent and even more somber than before and started to reveal his nature. I swear by Andraste’s Ashes, he wanted to kill me when I talked about opening the Temple to the public. He did not threaten me directly then, but I saw it in his eyes when he argued with me, saying that this would be too dangerous endeavor. Dangerous! As if he cared! There must have been treasures in the Temple he did not want anyone to find, bent on plundering them himself.  Still, he was armed and proficient in combat and I feared for my life, even with the King and Sister Nightingale present.

The road down to the Hinterlands was probably the second most miserable period in my life, just after the time I spent in the captivity. I was free, but I did not feel it, forced to rely on that savage and heathen. It was easy to see how deeply he despised all the humans — the only exception being the Witch, but I think I must agree with that vile man that she was no more human than he was, even if her ears were round. He was perpetually angry, when he spoke, it was all bile and blasphemies. I tried to engage with him in a friendly manner, inquire about his people — both because they are a fascinating topic of study, and because he undoubtedly has a deep connection to their so-called “culture”. The only thing that earned me was even more venom, insults and death threats. After some time I realized that no matter how pleasant I would be, there was no chance of connection. Warden-Commander simply was what he seemed to be — a hateful, cruel savage with only one goal in his mind. And let us all thank the Maker that this goal was to defeat the Blight. Had he been born in a different era, without the threat of the Darkspawn hanging over our heads, he would surely use this vile energy in a less noble endeavor, causing lots of death and misery.

The second time I met him was at his investiture and recognition ceremony. He was still this crude, hateful man I met. He arrived at the royal ceremony dressed in the same savage, worn leathers he wore in Haven, barefoot and flaunting both of his lovers. His only allowance for the ceremony was a Grey Warden tabard he wore over his armor. He did not deign to kneel before the King when his investiture was announced — as the custom demands — and when the good King gave him his boon for his achievements, he looked sour and offended. I did not talk to him that day, but I overheard him — this ungrateful wretch! — to argue with the King after the ceremony as with a commoner, saying that the lands he was given for his people were not good enough and that he found his Majesty’s grace offensive and demeaning.

So, here you have, a honest portrait of the Hero of Ferelden. Unlike how the public opinion paints him, he is a cruel, prideful and petty man, with no sense of gratitude or any social graces. I will not dare to write it in any of the books I am publishing now, that is why you found this character absent from my scriptures. I would be, however, grateful, if you saved this letter and made it public after I meet the Maker, as this may be the only honest accounting of the Warden-Commander Mahariel’s character ever written by a historian who witnessed it first-hand.

May the Maker bless your endeavors,

Yours truly ,

Genitivi