He leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. "Well, you look like shit." Warren was heavier than she remembered, not overweight by any stretch of the imagination, just thicker in the arms and neck, chest. Whether from actual physical exertion or too much fatted calf and honeyed wine, she wasn't sure. He'd always had a way of making any appearance change, any change of his hair, any failure to shave, any weight gain or loss look both intentional and somehow better. It was one of the many things that she loved about him, and also one of the many things that irritated the hell out of her.

"I just took down a high dragon. One possessed by a god, actually."

"Did he break your hair brushing arm? Don't you have people for that? Or is this perhaps part of his curse?"

"Is this why you're here? To discuss my hygiene?"

"I'm discussing your appearance. Your hygiene I have yet to get to." Warren smiled lazily as the barkeep appeared with a bottle. "I suppose it's just life here in the mountains. You've gone native, I hear."

Evelyn frowned slightly as she reached for the bottle. "Is that how our father is referring to it?"

"It?" Warren smiled, all toothy, tongue between those neat rows of teeth. "Is that how you refer to... it?" She groaned and collapsed forward, head buried in her arms. Warren gave a delicate pat-pat to the back of her head. "You know I have to tease. It's only fair."

"I never teased," her voice was muffled, head still down.

"Bullshit," he pried the bottle from her fingers and filled his cup. "You were relentless."

"I was seven."

"The first time. What was the excuse when you were nine? And later still, when you were nearly twenty? You weren't nearly as prolific so I have to take my mocking opportunities when they come. I assume he did, and that's why you're finally out of bed and here with me?"

She glared up at him. "Don't be disgusting."

"That, my dear sister, wasn't disgusting. Let me enjoy this, just a little. Remember I've been cooped up here the better part of a week, getting to know your people. Trust me, it's probably the most polite thing anyone has said about your... entanglement."

"Andraste, I don't want to hear-"

"No? Did you know there's a song?"

"Enough."

Warren smiled again. "Fine. If you don't want to talk, then drink."

"Gladly."

"So, bald, huh?"

She made a choking sound into her cup. "You are absolutely the worst."

"I just asked around, wondering what he looked like. I wanted to be able to scope him out for myself when he showed up. "

"And have you?"

"You two disappeared so quickly I didn't have a chance. And from the song's second verse, I knew better than to disturb. Holy shit, are you blushing?"

"Warren," she warned.

"Fine, fine. I'm sorry." He refilled her wine. "I just wanted to know."

"I thought you'd already heard. Isn't that why you're here?"

"I'd heard our father's take on the whole sordid affair. I'm here to hear yours."

"And to watch me. And to convince me he's right."

Warren made a tsking sound deep in his throat. "You really think I rode all the way out here, abandoning civilization and all its comforts, to convince you that dear old dad is right? Does that sound at all like me? That dragon must have knocked your last vestige of good sense loose."

"I'm sorry, Warren. His letters have just been so crazed, so insistent. He barely raised an eyebrow over the possibility of me marrying before. Now he's obsessed with the idea. And to think of me with..." She trailed off, shaking her head

Warren's voice went soft. "I have met him, you know. He isn't a bad guy."

"I really don't want to talk about him. I'm sick as fuck of hearing about him. I think I have received a complete listing of every breath he's taken since birth from both our parents." She rubbed at her face with her fingers. "Aren't we past the whole arranged marriage thing?"

"We were, before you became a holy icon and started leading an army. Now they think they need to help you make more responsible choices."

"More responsible than Solas, you mean."

Warren raised his glass in a mock toast. "There it is. It has a name."

"They don't mention his name in the song?" she said dryly, emptying the bottle into her own cup.

"Oh, they do, but I wanted to hear you say it. It's the only way to tell for sure, and now all my suspicions are confirmed: we're doomed."

"Doomed?" she raised her eyebrows slightly.

"Completely. I'm now certain to fail at my appointed task."

"I thought your task was to hear my side of the story."

"Not entirely. I wanted to hear your side of the story, that's why I agreed to come talk to you. I've come to help you see that your side project is both tearing your family apart and not exactly wonderful for the future of you or your Inquisition. Now that I've heard your side, I'm going to have to write a very hard letter home."

Evelyn turned sideways in her chair, draping one leg over the arm. "You haven't heard my side. You've heard a song."

"I heard you say his name," Warren had that infuriating smile once again. "Little Evelyn is in love."

"I can't believe they chose you to be the one to talk any sense into me."

"They knew I'm your favorite brother. Just as you are my favorite sister."

She snorted, relaxing further into the chair in spite of herself. "I'm your only sister."

Warren motioned for another bottle. "That's hardly the point."