Castiel's heart had stopped. At least, that was how it felt. Annabeth had told him that she wouldn't see him again. She had told him she only had eyes for him, and that it meant nothing. And yet, here she was, sparring with the very man who had disgusted her so, or so she'd said.

Training was a very private bonding time for Castiel and his son called wife. It was how they'd become close, before he'd broken his leg. He'd taught her so much, and perhaps he was taking this the wrong way, but she was here, alone, with this man. The man the soldiers whispered about. The man that threatened the Andino reputation as long as Annabeth met alone with him. Maybe she truly didn't care. She was playing with his heart. This whole time, that's what it was.

Never again. His emotional walls were building as his legs carried him towards Dresden as he stood alone now with the dummy. One step at a time, his legs felt heavy, and yet he itched to bring harm to him. He wanted to strangle Dresden, but the hangman's noose didn't appeal to him this day. So, he'd go for the next best thing.

Castiel picked up the sword that had been tossed aside, as well as grabbing another from the training weapons. When Dresden nodded at Cas, he'd toss the weapon at him. "You and me, right now." It wasn't a spar offer, but surely Dresden wouldn't realize that, right? Castiel had no intentions of going easy on him.

Dresden glanced down at the sword that had been thrown at his boots. Bending to pick it up, he looked up at the man. He still couldn't place him, but any fool could pick up on the aggression that came out in his voice. Dresden's brows furrowed and he frowned. There was no shortage of people that he seemed to piss off on any given day, for this or that. A lot of rumors had been going around about him. The ones about Scout, the ones about Annabeth, and then ones about Ikisina. So which woman's honor was this man defending?

It didn't matter. One door closes, another opens. Unlike Titus, unlike Annabeth and Ikisina, unlike Elliot, maybe this man could give Dresden what he really wanted.

So he took the handle of the sword into his right hand and moved a few feet away from the dummies, into the more open space. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt and lifted it to wipe the sweat from his face. Then he widened his stance to shoulder length and readied his sword. "Lord's first."

Good, he wasn't going to back away from this. Now Castiel had no reason to go easy on him. His grip tightened on the sword in his hand, and he took slow calculated steps towards his quarry.

Not once would he dictate his actions with a stance, he kept his arm relaxed and at his side. He much preferred the unpredictability that not using a fighting stance allowed.

It was only when he was within a few feet of Dresden that he'd take a hard swing at the man's side. If he didn't block it fast enough, he'd have quite the bruise later.

Dresden thought he could spar alone with his wife and get away with it? Think again.

Dresden kept his eyes on the man. He was a lord of some kind, he was sure about that. He could tell by the way the man dressed, so he likely wasn't here for Ikisina.

The swing toward his side had Dresden turning, twisting his hips to bring his sword down and block the swing through gritted teeth. Whoever he was, he was well trained and strong. With some effort he pushed the man's sword up and away, taking a step forward in the motion and taking a swing of his own diagonally upward, toward the man's left armpit.

Castiel was glad he managed to block him. That meant he was somewhat competent. Whether Castiel was fighting him out of anger or just to spar, it was always better if the opponent knew what they were doing.

He jumped back to dodge the swing coming back at him, tapping his sword against his to smack it away, and just as quickly swinging it back to try to whack him again. He needed this to hurt, even a little bit. Hurt himself or his opponent, he wasn't entirely sure.

The man jumped back and put space between them, making his upward slash miss so that it was easily swatted. The movement made blocking the next swing more difficult and he had to contort his body by twisting at the hips in an uncomfortable way in order to lift his own sword to block. The blow landed down on him and he held the grip with both hands, pressing his sword upward against Castiel's. "Reckon you know who I am," Dresden said through clenched teeth. "So who're you, my lord?"

"On the contrary, I have no idea who you are. I merely know that the dummy is a poor excuse of a sparring partner."

He put his weight against his sword and tried to shove Dresden back, bringing several speedy hits at him as well. Surely he couldn't block all of them, especially with the uncomfortable way he had to keep moving.

"Marquis Castiel Andino," was the blunt reply to the question as to who he was.

"Huh," was all he could get out before the weight of the man had Dresden withdrawing, but instead of keeping the distance between them, he continued his attacks. He managed to block the first couple of strikes that came his way afterward, but the mans speed overtook him.

One hit caught him hard atop the left shoulder, another in the same arm. As the next came toward him, he lifted his sword to block it but the awkward way he had to turn had him losing his balance and falling back. He landed on the ground on his ass, sword lifted to block whatever blow came next. It was then that he took a breath and smirked. "Ah, I see, then."

Castiel had knocked him down. Perhaps it was a bit too easily, or perhaps he was holding back. Either way, his own anger was quickly subsiding. It had been a long time since he had sparred with anyone like that, but he needed more.

He stood over Dresden, sword pointed at his neck. "Do you yield?"

"Yield?" Dresden huffed from the ground, looking up at him. Annabeth had made some weird comment about her husband when she'd left just minutes before Castiel had arrived. Apparently the two were having problems, but Dresden didn't know what in the stars that had to do with him.

Pushing himself back with one hand, his sword still in the other, he slowly brought himself back to his feet. "Do you feel done?" Even if he did, Dresden wasn't. The sting of pain in his left shoulder and arm felt too good. Stepping forward quickly, he crossed blades with the man and pushed his sword to the side, attempting a slashing motion in the shape of an x across his chest.

Castiel half smirked. Good. This was better than he thought. The only means he had to dodge the coming slashes would be to fall back and roll out of the way.

But he wouldn't do that.

He let Dresden make his strike, stumbling back slightly but remaining in range. Only then did he drop a use a sweeping motion with his legs to try to knock Dresden back to the ground. Then, he'd come at him, striking at the already sore left shoulder.

Lord Andino seemed to accept Dresden's response. As they began again, the slashes across the man's chest seemed to hit but not for no reason. The sudden drop and sweep was successful and Dresden fell flat onto his back, which knocked the wind out of him and made him see stars. He rolled onto his right side, submitting his already injured left to the strike as it came down. But as soon as it landed, he was rolling again, onto his belly, and pushing himself back up to his feet.

He made an arching swing, coming downward toward the man's head. If Cas lifted his sword to block it, Dresden would lift his leg and plant a boot right in the middle of his chest, attempting to kick him off balance and to follow up with his own strike at the shoulder.

Now they were getting somewhere, and Castiel laughed his enjoyment of it. For the moment, he'd all but forgotten why he'd begun this spar, and merely reveled in the fact that he had a decent opponent. Part of him wondered if Simon ever tried to spar with him, it might be worth his time.

While Dresden was successful at his next hit, Castiel was an expert in his recovery, and was out of reach in seconds. He had been doing this all his life, after all.

He could tell that his previous hit had done some damage, not just to Dresden, but to the practice weapons as well. Flimsy things were hardly worth the wood they were carved from. Another good strike or two and it would likely splinter. Could he take him down before then?

He resumed his casual stance, watching Dresden for his next move and beginning to circle him.