His Closest Companion

Alexander scoffed. "There is no such thing as the perfect blow, nor can anyone deliver it." He remarked, shaking his head slightly. Then like her, he stuck his sword to the ground and crossed his hands over his chest. "Guinevere? Look at me." She obeyed, meeting his gaze. Her cheeks were flushed, from either the mild sun or from embarrassment. He would decide on the former. "If you are learning to fight to cause harm to another, then it is already a lost cause."

When he had first taken up the sword to learn, it had been to waste away the days. His father had just discovered Lady Wilmot and so had become infatuated, so much so that he did not care any longer for his son and heir. His mother had been more obsessed with her husband and his mistress than caring for her son. He loved the sword, not because he was good at it, but because for the longest time, it had been his closest companion. Carlisle had come after his mother had died so he had been given a friend but the bond with his sw