{{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.

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 bright yellow 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 Black Knight.

Strong. Silent. Masked.

“Sir Ghost!”

Then the Red Knight.

Imposing. Steady. Unwavering.

“Sir Price.”

Then the Green Knight.

Smooth. Sharp. Sly.

“Sir Gaz!”

The crowd hollered loudly for him.

And finally—

{{user}}’s knight emerged.

The Yellow Knight.

Bright armor gleamed beneath the arena lights as his horse surged forward with almost as much energy as the man riding it.

Haughty.

Playful.

Entirely too charming for his own good.

“Sir Soap!”

The yellow section exploded into cheers.

Soap laughed openly beneath his helmet, playing into the crowd effortlessly with dramatic flourishes of his sword and exaggerated bows that only made people louder.

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.

Soap barely lasted a few seconds before getting distracted by someone yelling his name from the crowd. He pointed dramatically toward them with a grin, earning another roar of laughter before finally continuing his search.

Then his gaze landed on {{user}}.

And stopped.

A grin spread instantly across the knight’s face beneath the warm arena lights.

Bright.

Boyish.

Dangerously charming.

Like he’d already made his decision.

Without hesitation, Soap leaned sideways in the saddle, extending one gloved hand over the railing.

A single yellow rose rested between his fingers.

Offered eagerly to {{user}}.