“She spoke of you often,” Zevran began, choosing his words carefully for more his sake than the keeper’s. “She mentioned that although she caused you much trouble as a young one, and even more so after she received her vallaslin, that you treated her as if she were your own.”
Keeper Marethari hummed softly in affirmation. A thoughtful look appeared on her face as she pondered her response.
”It is often that a Dalish child loses one or both of their parents due to an assortment of reasons; illness, death, abandonment,” she spoke, her back straight and her features steeped in melancholy. The keeper’s eyes swam in the waters of the past, remembering those of the Sabrae who had been raised as the clan’s own.
A few minutes passed before Marethari continued. “It is our duty to take the ones who’s own flesh has been stolen from them. And even if a child’s birth parents still roam Thedas, we Dalish treat them as our own. It is within our custom,” she looked towards Zevran then, the upper portion of her body twisting in order to properly face him.
“Vir dar sa. We are one.”
As his gaze drifted to the ground in front of him, Zevran’s mind began fluctuating with activity. Those words were familiar to him. His Warden had spoken them to him the night before the march to Denerim:
"Zevran, ma emma vhenan’ara. Ma’arlath. Vir dar sa.”
Although he did not know what the other words meant, it was clear what she’d been trying to convey. A sorrowful grin graced the Antivan’s lips, then, as a wave of mourning overtook him. Marethari chose to say nothing, and remained his silent companion.
The two lapsed into a comfortable silence, remembering the one they had lost and the memories they carried with them.
-
rough elvhen translation: “zevran, you are my heart’s desire. i love you. we are one.”
