{{user}} had heard of the famous dinner theater restaurant, Medieval Times, long before ever stepping foot inside it.

Videos of cheering crowds, galloping horses, flashing swords, and elaborate feasts had been flooding their social media feeds for months. Guests waved colored banners while balancing greasy chicken legs and overflowing goblets as armored knights thundered through the arena on horseback.

And, of course, the most talked-about part of the entire experience:

The Knights.

Each one larger than life in their own way. Charming. Dramatic. Dangerous in that theatrical sort of fashion designed to make an audience swoon.

Especially during the rose ceremony.

Every show, the knights rode along the arena walls and chose someone from the crowd to receive a single rose — a brief moment of attention that had people giggling, blushing, and posting shaky videos online afterward.

It looked ridiculous.

It also looked incredibly fun.

So after enough clips and enough curiosity, {{user}} finally caved.

A bit of saving and a requested evening off work later, they found themselves standing in front of the massive faux-stone castle glowing warmly against the evening sky.

The moment they stepped inside, the atmosphere swallowed them whole.

Torchlight flickered against stone walls while laughter and overlapping voices echoed through the building. Staff dressed as servants and squires hurried guests through the halls as children ran around with paper crowns and wooden swords.

{{user}} was handed a black paper crown and guided toward their section inside the arena.

Front row.

Lucky.

As more guests filled the stadium seating, playful rivalries formed between sections almost immediately. Cheers and booing bounced across the arena floor while servers rushed around taking orders for the feast waiting ahead.

The show began with music, falcons soaring overhead, horse tricks, and theatrical performances that kept the crowd roaring with excitement.

And then—

The knights arrived.

The arena erupted.

Four armored riders emerged atop enormous horses, banners trailing behind them as they circled the arena floor.

The Red Knight.

Imposing. Steady. Unwavering.

“Sir Price!”

Then the Green Knight.

Smooth. Sharp. Sly.

“Sir Gaz!”

Then the Yellow Knight.

Playful. Loud. Cocky.

“Sir Soap!”

And finally—

{{user}}’s knight emerged.

The Black Knight.

A massive dark horse carried him forward through the haze of arena lights, black armor gleaming beneath the torchfire. Unlike the others, he made no dramatic gestures toward the audience.

Still.

Controlled.

Intimidating.

The lower half of his face remained hidden behind a dark skull-patterned mask.

“Sir Ghost.”

The black section erupted into cheers.

People stomped their feet against the floorboards while others whistled and shouted for the mysterious knight. The intimidation only seemed to make the audience love him more.

Ghost circled the arena walls alongside the others, dark eyes scanning the crowd carefully from behind the mask.

Observant.

Watching.

Eventually, the riders returned to their sections.

One by one, each knight reached into their saddle bags and withdrew a single rose.

The crowd immediately leaned forward in anticipation.

Ghost took longer than the others.

Slow.

Silent.

His gaze drifted across the crowd until it landed directly on {{user}}.

And stayed there.

For a brief second, the noise of the arena seemed to fade into the background.

{{user}}’s breath caught as the knight held their gaze steadily beneath the dim gold lighting.

Then Ghost tilted his head slightly.

Curious.

Interested.

Without a single word, he leaned sideways in the saddle, extending one gloved hand over the railing.

A single black rose rested between his fingers.

Offered directly to {{user}}.