Edward continued to fence with Sabbas, sword flicking about as he blocked Sabbas's attacks. This match had gone on for a good amount of time, by this point, though he was loathe to call it off. Perhaps the next time one of them stumbled or fell, he would call an end to it. For now, though, this was fine.
Between the panting and trying to break the king's defense, he smiled a little. Time seemed to have froze. They barely have spoken aside from when Sabbas had fell. Swords colliding, making sharp yet light clinking sounds ringing through the air. He doesn't want it to end, but he knows it will have to sooner or later.
Bringing his sword away, he loosened his grip a little in order to give his hand a momentary break. As his fingers tightened, he took three steps back then waited.
Edward shot forward when Sabbas stepped back, his sword raised. He wasn't going to give the Spaniard a break; this had gone on long enough, and the time for breaks was over. Now, he wanted to charge forward.
As swiftly as he possibly could, Sabbas flung his sword out to stop the king's. While they have attacked, stopped, attacked, stopped, he figured it is time they moved past that. So, he let go and lunged forward to attack before taking a few small yet quick steps ahead.
The king's face twitched into a small smile as they finally reached the real meat of the fight, swords clashing together. Now their little spurts of attacks stopped, and it became a true, real fight. Edward knew it would likely be over soon, but that was alright. It had been a good duel while it lasted.
They both must have finally gotten comfortable with each other, Sabbas thought, or at least comfortable enough for a sword fight match. He kept on with attacks and defense while doing his best to lose his balance. The end of this match is inevitable but he wants to keep it going as long as possible. There is just something in the air that is pleasing to him.
Edward continued with the fight. He had, quite honestly, enjoyed it. It had been a good fight, and Sabbas was an excellent duelist. So, really, he did not mind if it took a little while for it to end. No matter what, though, Sabbas had been quite good at this. The king's golden hair was a touch messed up now from all the fighting, sticking up just a bit.
Ah, he had almost forgotten the one thing that he kept reminding himself beforehand, he must let the king win. Sabbas took a good look at King Edward for a second, taking in the slightly messy state of his hair. He still looks mesmerizing, but Sabbas wondered whether or not he should say anything about it after the match is over. Obviously he cannot go up to His Majesty and fix it himself despite wanting to.
Edward would fix his hair afterwards, as long as he noticed it. Someone would point it out eventually, even if the king himself did not notice at first. His mouth twitched faintly as he continued the match, gaze remaining fixed on Sabbas as he took more of an offensive, intending to bring this to its deserved end.
His mind went back to the goal of giving the king his win. With the way things are going now, he shouldn't do something as feasible as losing his balance; it's dramatic but it's not exciting or worthy enough. Sabbas is maintaining a defensive position, perhaps if he broke it, something might happen to counteract this. He decided to be bold and go forward in an attempt to steal the offensive position.
Edward continued with his attacks, but when Sabbas went on the offensive he added more defensive moves in. He didn't stop his offensive tactics, but certainly devoted more to defending himself from Sabbas's attacks. His eyes were focused and rather intense, though he clearly didn't notice how intense his gaze had grown as he threw his concentration into this duel.
Sabbas did throw more defense, although he kept on forward. Swiftly, he took a couple of steps back just to help maintain his balance. Nevertheless, he did his best to keep going, but to be daring enough to give His Majesty a rightful win. Sometimes being bold works, he just hopes that he is right. He kept his gaze fixated on the king's. Sweat rolled down the side of his face.
Edward continued to spar with Sabbas, still keeping his offense as strong as possible. This had been a good match indeed; many that he sparred with simply let him win all too easily, and didn't give him the chance to actually spar with them. And he understood it. People did not want to beat him, did not want to cross the king and anger him.
Part of Sabbas did not care if he was sparring with the sultan of the Ottoman Empire or the king of France or the emperor of China, let alone the king of the British Empire. He will spare anyone with the same amount of dignity. On the other hand, he did care about his position as a diplomat and as a respectable man, so he intends to keep his word, even if he only had spoken them to himself. And yet, even as he tries to push harder to bestow an opportunity for His Majesty, he knows that he can only do so much. Exhaustion evaporated the stiffness in his shoulders. The flame of energy burned in his eyes.
Edward kept his concentration on the man across from him, eyes narrowed and gaze focused. He was tiring himself, and knew this had to end soon for both their sakes. He still had meetings and such to go to, and he did not want to be exhausted during them. So, he increased his offense as best as he could, putting as much power into the swings as possible.
It was difficult maintain his boldness, brazen, and energy. Fatigue was gripping his face. Despite experiencing the sensations of being worn out, the king's burning focus motivated him to keep going. Well that is until he felt something at his side. The tip of the king's blade had poked Sabbas between his upper and lower left abdomen. He must have been a bit slower at one moment, exposing his left abdomen by mistake.
Sabbas jumped back then held his hand up as a way to ask for the both of them to stop. He panted while resting one hand on his knee before standing up. "I believe you had got me, Your Majesty. You win. If I may say, you are an excellent fighter," He smile, even though he was still catching his breath. Sweat highlighted his tan skin. Stands of his hair fell out of their place. Nevertheless a warm smile stayed on his face.
Edward grinned at Sabbas when the Spaniard conceded, sheathign his sword and taking a moment to catch his breath. He, too, was sweating, chest rising and falling as he panted for breath. He was tired, now, but excited. It had been a most excellent match, and he was glad that they had had it.
Standing back at where he was when they had started, he sheathed his sword. His breathing became gradual and soon returned to normal. Heat clung to him like a child clinging onto a toy. He would have wished that they could have gone on for longer, but he is happy that they found rhythm and had a great match. Hopefully it will be a start to something, especially for more sword fights too.
He sheathed his own sword, running his fingers through his hair and breathing as his heartrate began to calm. He inclined his head slightly to Sabbas, still smiling. "Thank you for the match, ambassador. You are an excellent swordsman." he said, rather hoping that they would be able to do it again. There was something about the way Sabbas moved that he hadn't been able to keep his gaze away from, swordfight or no. That thought made something in his eyes flicker as he realized, again, that that was not a thought he should be having about another man. Certainly not a Spanish ambassador.
Sabbas gave a slight bow. When he stood back up, his hair fell in front of his face. Catching the glimpse of King Edward, a shiver crawled down his back. Mumbling an apology in Spanish, he used his fingers to comb through. "It is my pleasure, Your Majesty. I am humbled to be called an excellent swordsman by your accord," He breathed, "If it would please you, we can always do another one of these when you are available." As he spoke, his left hand rested over his heart. Then when he was done, he ran it through his hair again. No matter what, he just couldn't shake off the image of the king's gaze.
Edward's gaze flicked away after a moment, and he took a deep breath before looking back over at Sabbas. "Of course. If I can fit it into my schedule again, I would love to have another match with you. It was quite enjoyable." he gave Sabbas another soft smile, and wondered if he had time to go to the chapel before his next meeting. He needed to pray this away again. Ask the lord to take away this strange attraction that he felt.
"Quite enjoyable…." He purred. Sabbas's eyes drifted off to the side while biting on his bottom lip. Despite his minimal effort, he still could see the king smiling in the corner of his eye. The gaze. Oh that bewitching blue gaze. Sabbas shifted his weight onto his right foot before looking back. He did his best to remain a few steps back from how he usually acts; he was tempted to get closer and yet he remained still. Giving a nod, he said, "Well if it isn't any trouble, my king….Although if anything else, please do write to me."
Edward took in Sabbas's words, taking a deep breath. The purr in the Spaniard's voice was…quite something to hear. Not that it made him feel anything other than friendship, of course. That was simply impossible. He cleared his throat quietly. "Of course. Feel free to write to me as well, if you would like to."
If only it were just the two of them. If it was, Sabbas would have attempted to further his rather flirtatious habits, but he knew that it wouldn't matter. Sabbas's servant stood by the door, ready to go with him to the next point on his schedule. Right, he has to meet with some officials over tea; he had completely forgotten. fluffed his hair while slowly releasing an exhale. Letting his hand drop to his side, he turned to King Edward and bowed. "Will do. I hope to see you again soon, my king. Thank you for this, and I look forward to the next time we meet."
Edward nodded, inclining his head towards Sabbas. "I am sure we will. And thank you for being willing to spar with me. I look forward to our next meeting as well." he replied, unbuckling his sword and holding it carefully, before handing it to a guard to put away. He had time before his next meeting to go to the chapel and pray; he felt that he needed it, from the way his mind wandered. He needed time to fix his mind on the Lord again, on what was good and right, and this horrific attraction to the Spanish ambassador was neither good nor right.