There was a distinct irony, Wesley thought distantly, that he could vanquish the count's henchman in a thrilling swordfight and walk away without a scratch and yet be struck by a stabbing pain worse than that of cold steel piercing his chest when he returned to celebrate his victory.

He turned away, trailing his sword behind him, and struggled to bind the gaping wound in his heart.

Wesley had envisioned himself as a sword-wielding knight, valiantly protecting the fair maiden, but when he saw his lady love kiss another man he was reminded that he was still just the fool.

~end~