Sleep left her gradually that morning, nightmares melting into mildly unsettling images that did little to rattle her. She became aware of a discomfort in her shoulder and she shifted her position, embracing the pillow and burying her face in it to protect from the dull light filtering through her eyelashes.

She inhaled deeply and was struck by a slight variance in her environment; the pillow smelled differently from how she remembered-- still the acrid smell of soap and seawater that seemed to permeate all the bedding on the ship-- but with an added musk, a distinctly male scent she thought she almost recognized.

Her eyes snapped open and her head rose instantly from the pillow when she realized it smelled like Sten. A moment of confusion passed, then another. What was she doing in Sten's bed, where was he and had she done anything she should be feeling embarrassed about right now?

She brushed the hair out of her eyes as her memory began working again; she recalled cookies and a low-voiced conversation about oranges, of all things. Since she had no recollection of that conversation's end, she'd probably fallen asleep before its conclusion and Sten must have been generous enough to let her sleep in his bed.

Yet a quick survey showed that Sten was not in the room. It was probably morning by now, so this was not alarming in and of itself, but considering some of the fellow travelers on board the ship, she had to wonder if he wasn't somewhere getting into mischief himself.

* * *

It was only in early morning that Amell started nodding off, after being awake for nearly half the night. She alternated between drooping tiredly and snapping herself awake before she finally fell asleep, leaning against Sten's shoulder. For his part, the Qunari eased her down on the bed and Amell soon settled herself into the sheets, mumbling drowsily. She looked very much like an oversized feline, curled up in her sleep as she was.

This development worked well with Sten's plans, because he would not have her questioning him about his whereabouts or even worse, following him.

He quietly dressed and donned his armor. Amell was still asleep when he picked up Asala and exited the room.

His goal was clear; the Tal'Vashoth aboard the ship were unlikely to be heading towards Seheron, but that did not make them any less dangerous. He had avoided a confrontation thus far because it would have likely gotten him and the Warden a place in the brig. Hesitant as she was to attract attention, he did not think she would have appreciated this. If he were to cause a disruption on his own, without involving Amell, he would first need to keep her from knowing anything about it beforehand.

And having Amell know nothing of his actions was necessary at this point of his plan, loathe though he was to deceive her in this way.

He would have liked nothing more than to strike down the three fiends, however, as a soldier for the Beresaad, it was his duty to first glean whatever intelligence he could. Whatever their business had been in Ferelden, the Arishok would find some use for the information. He could kill them afterwards. It would be quite satisfying, he thought, to end the ashaad's life, especially after his insulting comment.

It was not long before he came across the Tal'Vashoth, where the narrow hallways between the galley and the stairs up to the deck intersected. They seemed to be expecting him, which wouldn't have surprised Sten in the least.

The ashaad was looking at him smugly, a mistake Sten put down to youth and inexperience. These traits also made him a poor scout, as proven by the fact that he seemed to have learned nothing from his encounter with Amell. The other two were older and seemed much more circumspect. One had a jagged scar running diagonally across his lips, starting from his left cheek and down to the right side of his jaw, as well as other smaller marks. He was possibly a karashok, as he had the bearing of someone constantly at the forefront of the battle. The third and eldest of the three was a mystery. Certainly, he was most likely an officer, but Sten could not guess at the rank just yet. His face was morose and his red eyes revealed nothing.

The officer was the first to speak upon seeing Sten.

"What a curious thing, to meet a Qunari so far from his precious homeland," he rasped.

"I have not come to sate your curiosity," Sten retorted.

"Unless you are not Qunari at all...?" the officer continued. Sten disliked this insinuation.

"I have not abandoned the teachings of the Qun as you have, wretch."

"Then you are to be pitied," the officer only said, seemingly unaffected by the insult. "But this only makes you more of a curiosity. What would a lone Qunari be doing here, dragging along that trophy woman, I wonder?"

Sten had to restrain himself from bristling at this remark. That the ashaad had assumed (and passed on this false assumption) that Amell represented only some spoil of war was, in the grand scheme of things, an advantage. If things worked out as he intended them to, they would pay for that mistake dearly.

"Let us not play around with words any longer," Sten rumbled, his voice just a hair's breadth from hostility. "I will not reveal my purpose here any more than you will."

"Then what is the point of this conversation?" the karashok sneered. The officer turned his gaze towards him and the scarred man fell silent once more.

"I am here only to offer a warning." Sten looked the Tal'Vashoth officer down. "You will keep away from my companion. I have no need for you to poison her mind with your depraved beliefs--"

And just as expected, the karashok sprung to attack. In one fluid move, Asala slid out of its sheath to meet him.