I mean @demandthedoodles I’ll talk about it even more [twirling my hair]
For anyone curious, we’re referencing this post!
Mahanon’s intensity is probably the driving force of his own narrative! From the second his wedding is ruined, he doesn’t do anything in half-measures. The Grey Wardens, to Mahanon, are the chance to live the life he’s always wanted. The Blight is the one thing that stands in the way of what he wants, so he’ll do what he has to do to stop it—with only one caveat. He won’t give up his own life for it. Or else, what have all his efforts been for?
To quote K.A. Applegate, Mahanon becomes ruthless; all he can see is that bright clear line from beginning to end, and he doesn’t care about anything but the solution. He makes tough calls that the rest of the group REFUSE to make. He kills Connor, he kills the werewolves, he defiles the Ashes. Everything he does is him making a decision that he deems necessary.
What does this have to do with how he feels about Alistair (or any of the others)? Put simply, Mahanon feels, to an extent, that he’s owed their loyalty. They weren’t the ones to make the calls, they shunted the decisions onto him. If they didn’t like what he did, they should’ve done something about it themselves.
Despite his resentments, he does CARE about the people he travels with (in my canon the Blight takes about a year to a year and a half to settle in full). He wouldn’t have stuck with them so long if he didn’t care about them. He falls in love with Morrigan, and in each other they find mutual healing from their pasts. He grows close to Zevran and Shale and Wynne; Leliana is almost an annoying little sister, and Alistair is like the brother he never had.
Mahanon and Alistair were (to quote Lingua Ignota) “brothers in arms / brothers in each others’ arms”. Alistair was one of very few men that Mahanon could trust and even grew to love (platonically, but there was a little homoeroticism in there). But when the Landsmeet came, when all that time had passed, when Mahanon’s ruthlessness had alienated some (such as when he took the Reaver blood, such as his double crossing spirits at Soldier’s Peak and drinking more blood, such as his cutthroat way of handling their foes the closer they get to the end of their quest) Mahanon could ONLY focus on that bright, blinding solution.
He couldn’t see anything else. Sparing Loghain and recruiting him into the Wardens would force a powerful general onto their side! This is a brilliant political move! And Alistair can have his vengeance, Loghain will be their sacrifice to the Archdemon! Everything works out!
Mahanon can only see the solution.
Alistair can only see Mahanon’s betrayal; after everything, after being willing to even kill Morrigan’s mother for her, Mahanon would refuse to do this one simple thing? How could he?!
Mahanon can now only see Alistair’s betrayal of the cause. He’d leave because he can’t get his pound of flesh?! He’s a traitor, too! I could have him executed!
Mahanon still loves him. He rejects Morrigan’s offer (he has to) and refuses to let her bring it up to Alistair or Loghain. Morrigan leaves, and Mahanon is left with only the solution. He finds another. It won’t be him and Alistair at the End of All Things, but it WILL be him. Loghain, in some ways, knows this. The ruthlessness of a brave young man not yet ready to die.
Alistair’s arrival at the last second—his sacrifice, the attempt at reclaiming the responsibilities he abdicated, undermining what Mahanon had to do once he was gone and what he had to prepare himself to do—it’s a final betrayal. It’s selfish. It’s sacrifice. Mahanon rages for weeks. He can’t even yell at his god because Alistair has been wholly consumed; there is nowhere within the Fade that his rage can reach that Alistair would be able to know it.
Mahanon’s final betrayal, his final selfishness, is by abandoning the Wardens immediately once Vigil’s Keep has been arranged for him. He goes to find Morrigan, and leaves Loghain to clean up the mess. Loghain is sent to Orlais; Elyon is brought from Orlais. They cross paths with each other at the border—both older men, both whose families have been lost to ruin, both who have been exiled from their homelands, and both who know their hearts best to the death-march.
May the Dread Wolf take me.
May Andraste light your path.
