Verald

Verald was the youngest son of Maferath and Gilivhan.

Background
Maferath, married to Andraste but needing an heir, bore children with the concubine Gilivhan.[1] Andraste was unable to provide him with one due to a decades-long illness acquired on the night of her sister Haliserre's death.[2] but since he was a barbarian chieftain, he needed an heir, so he sired three sons with a concubine. Verald and the other two brothers were adopted by Andraste upon Gilivhan's death, and he

of Verald, more is known, for his actions bring him to the start of our nation. But his folly begins in Nevarra, where we must ask: was this the will of a betrayer father, or a mistake of youth?

Maferath gave rule to the youngest, Verald, and never claimed Nevarra. Never did he sit on the throne, and he is thought to have rarely visited. But his name is hated there most of all, for it was bartered for legacy by the son. Unlike Evrion, Verald spoke not as example but to claim. Never his name was mentioned without that of his mother and father. His claims were bold—their actions were his, and their thoughts all shared. But from the father on his throne in Ferelden, no word is recorded. And we wonder: was it deliberate?

For when the betrayal was revealed, all with ties to Maferath were vilified. And so strong were the ties that Verald had drawn, that his court was killed to a man, and he was forced to flee. Had he kept silent, as seems the will of the knowing father, and had he girded as the father had guided the elder, Isorath, then Verald might have remained to rule.

But that would require that the betrayer not be as he is drawn. And it would have kept Verald in Nevarra. And it would have kept Verald from Orlais. And it would have prevented the further betrayal that truly birthed Orlais.

While a Son of Betrayal named the fields "Orlais," it was Jeshavis, his wife, who shaped what we are. Her hatreds were older, bound to tradition. All our hatreds were abandoned so we would call strangers kin and stand as one against the Imperium. Greater her spite for how necessary the cost, because she knew we had a choice in that day, or no choice the next. She brought the marriage that wed tribe within tribe, but promised an untold vengeance of her own: if we stand against outsiders, we stand for ourselves. She would not suffer the rule of Alamarri, son or no son of Betrayal or Prophet.

Jeshavis plied brother against brother in turn, then named both as partners in crimes against faith. With artful turns she invited invasion, then crafted rebellion against the courts she inspired. Brother would kill brother and be killed in turn, two liberations that she would then own. Eight generations before the empire, before Drakon, here were the seeds of elegance to come. Jeshavis, twice married to Sons of Betrayal, twice widowed, our first chieftain born from us, of what would become true Orlais—where we venerate faith and the beauty of sacrifice, with daggers well hidden but well within reach.

It is true, we owe much to the Sons of Betrayal, for they were the tools that a master cast down. Let others claim credit for birthing the nation. Jeshavis claims nothing and gave us the Game.