{{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 purple 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.

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

The Black Knight.

Strong. Silent. Masked.

The Red Knight.

Imposing. Fierce. Steady.

The Yellow Knight.

Cocky. Loud. Playful.

The Green Knight.

Smooth. Sharp. Sly.

And finally—

{{user}}’s knight emerged.

The Purple Knight.

The horse beneath him looked massive, though somehow not nearly as massive as the man riding it. Clad in deep purple armor darkened by torchlight, Sir König towered over the other knights with an intimidating presence.

Quiet.

Watchful.

Overwhelmingly large.

“Sir König.”

The purple section erupted into cheers.

König visibly stiffened at the volume before awkwardly raising a hand toward the crowd. The reaction only made people louder.

Despite his size and intimidating appearance, there was something strangely careful about him beneath the armor.

The knights circled the arena walls while the crowd shouted and laughed around them.

The Black Knight intimidated.

The Red Knight commanded.

The Yellow Knight entertained.

The Green Knight charmed.

But König fascinated people.

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.

König hesitated longer than the others.

Then his gaze landed on {{user}}.

And stopped.

Something softened visibly in the knight’s posture.

Slowly, König guided his horse closer to the railing before leaning awkwardly sideways in the saddle, extending one massive gloved hand toward {{user}}.

A single purple rose rested carefully between his fingers.

Offered with surprising gentleness.