He was following her.
At first, Amell thought they were merely walking in the same direction, but the minstrel was definitely following her.
"So this friend of yours, who taught you dirty limericks," he asked cheerily, "was he a mage as well?"
"No," Amell replied curtly, but added as an afterthought, "A dwarf."
"Ah, yes, dwarves do excel at such things," he grinned. "And where does a mage meet a dwarf?"
"Orzammar," Amell answered.
"Obviously," he chuckled.
"Look, are you just going to follow me until I tell you my life story?" she asked, exasperated.
"I find that persistence often pays," he shrugged. "And I do sense your life story is interesting, to say the least."
"Not as interesting as yours, I'd imagine."
"Does the lady truly think so?" he chuckled, amused. "Ah, but I am only a humble musician. Valerion, they call me, among other, worse things." He bowed dramatically in the middle of the street.
"Oh. I... My name is Corinne Amell. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
Valerion grinned triumphantly.
* * *
It was hours later when Sten ventured out of his room and approached the door to Amell's. Knocking elicited no response, however, so he went to search for her downstairs, where he ran across the innkeeper.
"Oh, it's you," the blonde woman said, quite unnecessarily, upon seeing him. "Your friend is back from her errand. She's in the tavern. Seems to have brought entertainment, as well."
The fact that Amell had left at all was news to him, but not nearly as surprising as the last part. He wondered what entertainment the innkeeper could have possibly meant.
He found out as soon as he arrived in the tavern. A gaudily-dressed man was playing the lute and singing, surrounded by overly-intoxicated patrons who accompanied him, off-key to various degrees.
Amell was tucked away at a corner table, watching the ridiculous display with a far-away look on her face. She was deep in thought, though how she could think in this terrible din was a mystery to Sten. He could suspect what preoccupied her mind, however, and he had to begrudgingly admit at least partial responsibility for it.
He was nearly next to her by the time she saw him approach and she flinched out of her reverie. He sat at the table, tactfully ignoring the glance she threw around, as if she were assessing exit strategies. There was a goblet of wine in front of her, half-finished. Oghren sometimes tried to coax her into trying ale, but she seemed to have caught the taste of wine from Wynne, instead.
"I am given to understand you are responsible for this spectacle," he said, gesturing towards the minstrel.
She seemed thrown, for a second.
"I... yes," she grinned uneasily. "He followed me here."
"Followed you here?" Sten repeated skeptically.
"Like a puppy," she confirmed, relaxing marginally.
"And I am sure you did nothing to encourage him."
"No! Well, a bit... I might have paid his tailor bill."
"And I am sure you had a valid reason for doing this."
"Yes! He was... he... he was endearing, I suppose," she trailed off weakly, looking down at the table.
Sten glared at the minstrel.
"What does he want of you?" he asked, his eyes still on Valerion. His song seemed to have come at a close, finally, and people were throwing him coins.
"Nothing, I suppose. He says he finds me interesting." She gave a low chuckle at this.
Sten looked back at Amell. She was holding the vessel of wine, staring deep into the dark red depths of the liquid.
"Do you believe this?" Sten asked.
"Why, are you feeling jealous?" she asked absently, still staring into the wine, and it was only after the words were out that she realized it was entirely the wrong thing to say after the events of the day, even as a joke.
Sten stiffened and she looked up at him, horrified, about to apologize, but for the second time that day, there came an interruption.
"M'lady, friend of yours?" came Valerion's sing-song voice as he casually leaned his elbow on the backrest of Amell's chair.
"Y-yes." She looked from Valerion to Sten, struck by indecision. "I have to go," she managed to add, before she fled the room. Again.
Sten would have followed her, even though he was not sure what he would do or say once he caught up with her, but his attention was caught by Valerion, who seemed entirely too taken with Amell's retreating form.
"Was it something I said?" the minstrel wondered aloud, as he sat in the newly-vacant seat and gave Sten a winning smile. Sten was not impressed.
"Yes," the Qunari replied, though it would have been more accurate to claim that it was something she said that put Amell on the run.
"Hmm. Then I must make amends to her later," Valerion said, his grin turning mischievous.
"You will keep away from her," Sten said, low and serious. A threat was implicit in his tone of voice.
"How interesting," Valerion remarked unexpectedly, leaning back and seeming to consider the Qunari in a new light.
Sten did not like the way the minstrel was eying him.
"Don't worry," the young man laughed suddenly. "Unlike most other minstrels, I have more sense than to steal away anyone's woman."
Sten suffered a a slight, infinitesimal moment of conflicting emotions before he could muster an appropriate response.
"She is not my woman," he said neutrally. "I have no claim on her."
"No?" Valerion cocked his head curiously, still looking smugly amused.
He looked down at the goblet Amell had left behind. Slowly, almost reverently, he raised the container, watching it with quite some interest.
"Do you think," Valerion started, as if considering a serious problem, "if I were to drink of the same goblet, I would learn the taste of her lips?"
In a split second, Sten was on his feet. In the subsequent second, Valerion was on the ground, his shirt soaked with wine.
In truth, Sten had done nothing other than rise from his chair, but Valerion had apparently been expecting something completely different, because the musician tried to scramble away so fast, he fell backwards, chair and all.
After a brief moment in which Sten gave Valerion a look of contempt and Valerion looked utterly surprised to still be alive, the Qunari said only "I will leave you to your foolishness," and departed.
A few moments later, under the curious gazes of tavern patrons, Valerion started laughing merrily.
* * *
That night was difficult, for Amell.
The problem, for once, were not nightmares. She'd grown accustomed to terrifying apparitions in her sleep and she could usually scrounge a few hours of sleep even on the worst nights.
No, the problem was that her dreams were disturbing in completely different ways tonight. Particularly because Sten featured heavily in them.
Amell rolled on her stomach and muffled a shriek of frustration into the pillow. She blamed the heat. Nights in Cumberland were balmier than she was used to and unfortunately, this only made it easier for her unconscious mind to conjure vivid dreams of Sten's warm body moving above her and inside--
No. No, no, no, she was not going to dwell on this. She was not even going to think about those embarrassing dreams ever again after tonight. She was going to take a cold bath and go back to sleep and hopefully by morning, her mind will have ceased to play such strange tricks on her.