The tavern door slammed open with a loud bang and four figures strode in. Their heavy boots thudding against the wooden floor. The room fell quiet for a moment then resumed with the rumble. All of their eyes narrowed when they landed on Kastiel.

“Well, look who we have here,” sneered one of them, a short man with a jagged scar across his left cheek. “Kastiel, the craven. I think I smelled you from afar, you know, I can smell a coward from a thousand fucking miles”

The others chuckled darkly as they approached. Another, stockier and with arms crossed over his chest added, “Didn’t think we’d run into you. Tell me craven, does your dick not stand straight cause you also fear the women folk”

Kastiel didn’t flinch, his jaw tightening as he stared them down, but before he could say anything, Arabel rose from her seat, her eyes blazing with fury. “Still your tongue, you gabbing lout,” she snapped. “If you wag your tongue like that anymore, in the name of Kalie I’ll fucking cut it off”

The scarred man raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “And who are you wrench, do you have any idea what this craven did-or didn’t do.”

“I know enough,” Arabel shot back, her voice steady. Her nostrils widened accompanied by deep, sharp breaths. “And I won’t sit here while you mock someone who’s worth ten of you”

One of the clan members a women with braided hair and cruel smirk on her face, stepped forward. “Stand down, girl,” she said coldly. “You’re aiding an exile. That’s forbidden. He’s nothing to us, and he should mean nothing to you.”

Arabel took a step closer, her fists clenched at her sides. “He’s something to me. And you can shove the rule book up your arse. You don’t get to decide who I stand with.” Kastiel’s face had a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

The stocky man sneered. “You’ll regret every single one of the words you have chosen today, you filthy wrench!”

Before Kastiel could intervene, the woman lunged forward, slapping Arabel hard across her face. The crack of the blow echoed in her ears. Kastiel surged to his feet, his chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor. At this moment the troubadour disappeared into the shadows.

“That’s enough!” Kastiel growled, the anger made his face contorted and devilish. He stepped between Arabel and the clan members, his hands curling into fists.

The scarred man laughed. “Look out guys, the craven is gonna take us on.”

Kastiel didn’t reply.

The fight erupted with a ferocity that caught all the attention of the tavern. Kastiel moved first, his fist snapping forward and connecting with the scarred man’s jaw that rang bells in his ears. The force sent the man staggering backward, crashing into a table and spilling ales across the floor.

The stocky one lunged at Kastiel from the side, winging a heavy fist aimed at his ribs. Kastiel pivoted smoothly the blow grazing his cloak but missing its mark. Seizing the opportunity, he delivered a sharp elbow to the man’s gut, forcing the air from his lungs in a loud whoosh. As the stocky man doubled over, Kastiel grabbed his collar and drove him face first into the edge of the bar, leaving him groaning on the floor.

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The braided woman snarled and charged at him next, her movements quick and precise. She aimed a low kick at Kastiel’s knee, trying to destabilize him. Kastiel stepped back just in time, her boot grazing his leg but failing to land solidly. She followed up with a dagger she pulled from her belt, slashing in a wide arc aimed at his chest. Kastiel ducked low, the blade whistling over his head, and countered by sweeping her legs out from under her with a well-placed kick. She hit the floor hard, the dagger skittering away across the wooden planks.

The fourth clan member, younger and quicker, saw his chance while Kastiel was momentarily turned. He leaped onto a table and launched himself at Kastiel, tackling him to the ground. The impact sent both men rolling across the floor, the sounds of grunts and scuffling filling the air. The younger man managed to pin Kastiel for a moment, his fists hammering down. Kastiel raised his forearms to block the blows, gritting his teeth as the punches rained down. Then, with a sudden burst of strength, he twisted his body and threw the younger man off, sending him sprawling onto the floor.

Kastiel got to his feet, blood trickling from a cut on his lip, and turned just in time to see the scarred man coming at him again, a broken chair leg clutched in his hands like a club. Kastiel sidestepped the wild swing, grabbed the man’s wrist, and twisted it sharply, forcing him to drop the makeshift weapon with a howl of pain. With a quick, brutal uppercut, Kastiel sent the scarred man collapsing onto the bar. The braided woman had recovered, rushing Kastiel with a furious cry. She aimed a series of rapid punches, her technique more disciplined than the others. Kastiel dodged the first two but took a glancing blow to the side of his jaw. He retaliated with a feint to her left, then struck her square in the stomach with a powerful hook. She gasped and fell to one knee, clutching her side.

The younger man came at him again, this time wielding the dagger the woman had dropped. He slashed wildly, desperation fueling his strikes. Kastiel stepped into his guard, catching the man’s wrist and twisting it sharply, forcing him to drop the blade. Kastiel followed with a swift knee to the man’s ribs, then shoved him backward into the wall, where he slid down, groaning in defeat. Breathing heavily, Kastiel surveyed the scene. The scarred man was slumped over the bar, clutching his face. The stocky one was still on the floor, groaning and holding his ribs. The braided woman knelt, dazed and gasping, while the youngest lay against the wall, defeated. Kastiel’s fists were clenched, his knuckles bloodied, but he stood tall, his eyes cold and unwavering.

He stared down at the clan members, his voice steady and sharp. "You’re done. Stay down, or I won’t hold back next time."

Kastiel turned to check on Arabel. Blood trickled from her nose and mouth, staining her pale skin. Elias stood beside her, his face tight with concern.

"Are you alright?" Kastiel asked softly, his voice laden with worry.

Arabel met his gaze and smiled, despite the blood and pain. She gave him a slight nod. Kastiel opened his mouth to speak, searching for words, but nothing felt right. He knew how few people would ever stand up for him, and what Arabel had done would not go unnoticed. Aiding an exile was a crime—the clan would make her pay.

"It’s alright," Arabel said, her voice calm but firm. She could see the guilt brewing in Kastiel’s eyes, the way his shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world rested on them. She knew how he thought, always quick to blame himself.

"Why did you do that?" he asked after a pause.

"Do what?" Arabel replied, tilting her head in feigned confusion.

"Stand up for me. I didn’t ask—"

A sharp slap cut him off mid-sentence. Kastiel froze, his cheek stinging, and Arabel’s fiery eyes burned into him. Before she could say a word, he pulled her into a tight embrace.

His breath hitched, and then the dam broke. Kastiel buried his face against her shoulder and wept, the raw sobs shaking his body. Arabel said nothing. She simply held him, her arms strong around his trembling form, her hand stroking the back of his head in soothing circles.

They stayed like that, wrapped in silent understanding, until the door creaked open and another crew entered the tavern.