Tavern Tensions

The tavern smelled of warm wood, salt, and spilled ale. Lanterns swung low, casting flickering shadows across rough timber walls, illuminating pirates laughing, jostling, and daring one another. Kael stepped in behind Aria, scanning the room with careful eyes. The crew sprawled across the space—some at tables, others leaning against the bar, a few testing luck with dice or knives.

“Relax,” Aria murmured, guiding him toward a corner table. “Keep your eyes open. Taverns like this aren’t just ale and music—they’re a battlefield in their own right.”

Kael nodded, letting the warmth of the tavern wash over him. Every laugh, shout, and crash of mugs was a signal. Who was tense? Who bored? Who hiding a grudge? Lior, near the hearth, polished a short dagger, his eyes flicking to Kael like a hawk.

High above, on the balcony that overlooked the tavern floor, Darius leaned on the railing, mug in hand. His sharp gaze swept over the crew, noting every flicker of expression, every subtle tension. When his eyes fell on Aria, he raised an eyebrow. She’s… distracted. Too focused on Kael. Doesn’t seem like herself. His fingers drummed lightly on the mug, a silent calculation of what the distraction might cost.

“Better keep an eye on him,” he muttered to himself. “Aria, captain or not, doesn’t usually let anyone catch her attention like that. Not without reason.”

Back on the floor, Aria ordered ale, her voice slicing over the din with effortless authority. Kael sipped slowly, mind alert. The crew, sensing the captain’s ease, relaxed into jokes, challenges, and small contests.

Someone cleared a corner near the dartboard, tossing down knives.

“Who’s steady enough?” Joren called, grinning, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Step up, or don’t bother drinking tonight!”

Kael picked up a knife, weighing it calmly. “I’ll take a shot.”

Aria perched on the chair’s edge, amused. “Careful. Don’t want to fish it out of the floorboards.”

The first knife spun through the air, embedding neatly in the board. Cheers erupted, and Kael’s precision continued, throw after throw, effortless. Aria followed, her throws growing bolder, teasing him with playful flicks of her wrist.

“Not bad,” Kael said, catching her glance. “Careful, or you’ll bruise your pride.”

Aria smirked, spinning another knife between her fingers. “Watch and learn, stranger,” she teased, hurling it with perfect aim. The blade embedded just off-center, and she gave him a quick, challenging glance.

Kael raised an eyebrow and let a knife fly, embedding dead center. “Don’t get cocky,” he said softly. Their playful tension crackled, subtle and electric, unnoticed by the rest of the crew.

From above, Darius sipped his ale, brow furrowing. Kael… who is he? he wondered. And why does Aria act like she can’t tear her eyes away?

The crew gathered, egging them on. “Captain, you’ll have to throw faster than that!” one shouted, sloshing ale. Another tossed a coin at the board. “Loser buys!” The tavern roared.

Aria laughed, tossing another knife with precision. “Careful, Kael. Don’t let the new blood outshine me.”

Kael let the knife spin from his fingers, watching it embed with a soft thunk. “Noted. But I don’t play for ego.”

Aria’s next throw spun almost sideways, barely catching the edge, and she grinned. “You’ll have to work harder than that.” Kael returned another knife, slicing into the board with perfection.

Laughter and shouts filled the tavern as more crew joined, some raising mugs, some cheering, some betting on whose knife would hit closest. Ale sloshed across the boards; someone spilled a tankard laughing, and another tossed back a shot before grabbing a knife.

Then two women drifted closer, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. Lira, dark-haired and mischievous, leaned against the table, eyes glinting as they fixed on Kael. Selene, taller with sun-streaked hair, followed, twirling a knife lazily in her fingers. Their movements were deliberate, teasing, drawing attention like predators circling prey.

“You’re new,” Lira purred, sliding closer to Kael. “I haven’t seen you around. Handsome.”

Kael gave a small, polite nod. “Kael,” he said simply. His eyes remained calm, unreadable.

Selene leaned forward, the tip of her knife lightly tapping the table. “And you throw like a pro. I’d like to see that in action… if you don’t mind a little company.”

Aria’s jaw clenched, knuckles whitening around her tankard. Heat flared in her chest, a sharp stab of jealousy twisting through her. She tried to focus on the game, on the knives, but every glance Kael gave the women, every polite nod or subtle smile, made her blood boil. She forced herself to sip, but her gaze kept drifting to him, betraying more than she intended.

“Not tonight,” she said firmly, stepping between them and Kael. Her voice was sharp enough to make heads turn. “Both of you, leave before I make you regret it.”

Lira laughed, a low, teasing sound. “Oh? And who are you to tell us what to do? Some jealous captain’s right hand?”

Aria’s eyes narrowed, voice cutting, low and commanding. “That’s enough. Step back, both of you. Now.”

Selene brushed Kael’s shoulder lightly as she passed. “We’re just admiring skill. Nothing wrong with that, right?”

The touch sent a flare of heat up Aria’s spine. Her jaw tightened, and a pulse of controlled anger rolled through her. The alcohol fueled her boldness, but she didn’t need to touch them. She lifted her chin, her voice cutting like steel through the tavern noise. “I said, move away. Both of you. Before I make you regret ignoring me.”

Lira reached for Kael, attempting to hook his arm with hers. “He’s just… fun to watch,” she said, trying to charm.

Aria’s gaze locked on hers, unflinching, full of authority. “I warned you. Step back. Now.”

The weight in her words, the quiet force behind her stance, made the women falter. Their playful confidence wavered, uncertainty flickering across their faces. After a tense moment, they muttered resentfully and stepped away.

Aria exhaled sharply, gripping her tankard, pulse racing, eyes still on Kael. The tavern noise seemed to swell around her, but the immediate threat was gone. She forced herself to sip again, trying to steady the storm inside.

Kael’s gaze followed them, then turned to her. “You didn’t have to… handle them like that,” he said quietly.

Aria’s shoulders stiffened. “I don’t like people getting too close to anyone in my crew,” she said evenly, taking a deliberate sip from her tankard. “That’s all.”

Kael noticed the faint tension in her hands, the way her jaw flexed. He sensed more than her words revealed—but she wasn’t ready to show it.

From across the tavern, Lior’s eyes had followed the scene. His grin faltered, replaced by a hard, sharp edge of jealousy. He had seen Aria’s flush, the brief narrowing of her eyes, the decisive way her voice had pushed the women aside. She hadn’t noticed him yet, and he clenched his fists at her back.
She’s jealous, he realized, and it’s not of me. His chest tightened, a mix of fury and humiliation boiling inside. Aria, his Aria, was clearly more concerned about the stranger—Kael—than about him. Every subtle glance, every protective gesture toward Kael pricked at his pride, and he could feel it gnawing at him.

Lior’s smirk hardened. The fire in Aria’s eyes—jealousy he couldn’t touch—stoked a rage in him that demanded action. Without another word, he snatched a throwing knife from the table, spinning it between his fingers, and stepped toward Kael. “Think you can just walk onto our ship, take our captain’s side, and look down on me?” he growled.

Kael’s hand hovered at his belt, calm, unflinching. “Put it down, Lior,” he said evenly.

Aria stepped forward, eyes blazing. “Lior, don’t,” she warned, but her voice trembled slightly with a mixture of fear, anger, and something she refused to name.

The blade flashed.

Kael moved like water—sidestepping, catching Lior’s wrist mid-strike, twisting it just enough for the knife to clatter harmlessly to the floor. The tavern froze; even the dice paused mid-roll.

“You’re drunk,” Kael said quietly, voice steady. “And you’re going to regret this in the morning.”

Lior lurched forward again, pride and rage flaring. Aria’s patience snapped. She grabbed him by the arm with surprising strength, dragging him toward the door. “Enough!” she barked, her voice cutting through the chaos like a whip.

“Let me go!” Lior shouted, struggling, eyes wild.

“Someone has to stop you before you do something stupid,” Aria snapped, tightening her grip and forcing him through the doorway. The cool night air hit them both, Lior shouting, cursing, and stumbling as Aria held him fast.

High above, on the balcony overlooking the tavern floor, Darius sipped from his mug, shaking his head slowly. “No captain should be this distracted… and definitely not by someone nobody even knows,” he murmured, brow furrowed. His eyes lingered on Aria’s tense posture and the way she kept Lior firmly under control, her glances still flicking toward Kael. “Keep your wits, Aria. You can’t afford this.”

Outside, the night air bit at their skin. Lior’s anger flared hotter with each step. “You’ve changed, Aria! I don’t even know you anymore! You… you’re looking at him differently! More than differently!”

Her hands flexed around the tankard, breath steady. “I’m protecting my crew. That’s all.”

Lior laughed bitterly, fists shaking. “Don’t lie to me! I saw how you handled them. The way your eyes narrowed, the way you moved… You’re jealous of two girls? Over him? You care about him more than me, Aria. Admit it!”

Aria’s jaw set tighter. “I’m not jealous. I just… I don’t want anyone getting close to anyone in my crew,” she said, carefully controlling her tone. Her words were true—but not the full truth.

Lior’s eyes flicked to her hands, then her face, reading the hidden edge in her posture. “Stop pretending. I can see it. You care about him,” he said, voice almost strangled with hurt and rage. “And it drives me mad!”

Aria exhaled, shaking her head slightly, masking the storm inside. “You’re wrong,” she said quietly, voice steady despite the heat in her veins. “It’s about the crew. Nothing else.”

But Lior saw through it. Every protective movement, every subtle flush, betrayed her feelings. “You’re not the Aria I knew. You’re… someone else now. Because of him. Because you care.”

Her chest tightened, the truth pressing against her, but she held firm. “You see what you want. Stay out of it, Lior,” she said firmly.

Lior stared at her a long moment, eyes dark, wounded, and jealous. Finally, he stepped back, shaking his head, voice low. “Maybe I don’t know you anymore… maybe I should just go back inside.”

Aria let him go, watching him stride back toward the tavern, shoulders tense, fists still tight. The night air brushed her hair, cool against heated skin. She let herself exhale, tasting the ale, feeling the pull she refused to name pressing in her chest. She would not admit it. She would not let anyone see. But she could feel it—louder than the tavern, louder than the night: she wanted him.