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“Who do we have on the schedule today, Price?” Johnny asks, reclining in his seat.
It’s the first day of the yearly tourney. Knights have been arriving from all over the past few days in order to prove their mettle and worth to the crown, Johnny’s father. Working folk have been gathering as well, all grateful for the break along with the promised entertainment.
“Let’s see here,” Price replies, scratching his beard as he unrolls a sheaf of paper and scans it critically, “Starting off with the grand bohurt, 20 versus 20 this year, then moving on to duels. Your pal Garrick starts us off with those, against some bloke named Sanderson. Vargas against Garza, Parra against Graves. After that it’s, christ what does that say,” Price grumbles, squinting at the page, “Ghost? Ghost against Nolan?”
“Sir Ghost?” Johnny replies with a laugh from his seat, “Horseshite that’s his real name. You sure some wanker didn’t make their way into the tourney?”
“Guess we’ll see, won’t we,” Price answers him with a chuckle.
Their conversation is cut short by the announcer, and the audience meet his declaration of the bohurt beginning with cheers. Soon forty men take to the field, and the fight begins. It consists of two teams, twenty versus twenty, the losers becoming captives to their victors, the winning team being whichever has more captives by the end. The arena is soon filled with the sound of clashing metal and exaggerated yelps, the participants putting on a show for the crowd. The crown team wins in the end, much to everyone’s excitement. The victors receive their rewards, and it’s onto the duels.
Garrick, a good friend of Johnny’s, has the pressure of being up first and puts on a good show. He gives an extra wave towards the royal stand for Johnny, one Johnny returns with a cheer of his own. Sanderson puts up a good fight, but concedes in the end. It’s a friendly fight, and the two walk off the field together, Garrick offering the share his prize of a wine keg with the man for putting up such a good effort.
Vargas and Garza is much different. The two have had a rivalry for years, and fight every chance the get. It’s a real toss up, but Garza takes the victory. Vargas can be a bit of a hot head, but takes his defeat with grace, sure he’ll get her next time.
Parra and Graves is much the same. Vargas cheers his partner on from the sidelines as he goes at their shared rival, and it must spur him on, because Parra takes the victory, if only just.
“Next up we have a late entry, along with a mysterious face, and an even more mysterious name,” cries the announcer, “Sir Ghost versus Sir Nolan!”
“Now here’s something interesting,” Johnny says, sitting forward in his seat to get a better look at the man. He can’t see much past the armor and helmet, but he can tell the man is massive, towering over the attendants below as well as the other fighters. He’s conjuring up the image of a strong jawline and dark hair when he’s pulled from his thoughts.
“Interesting, or attractive?” says his sister, Cecilia.
“Ah, away an’ bile yer heid,” he scoffs, “Can’t even tell what he looks like from here.”
John’s preferences, or lack thereof, were no secret. He’d be caught multiple times tangled up with various soldiers of any given gender. His family didn’t care, they had multiple heirs, but he wasn’t going to put up with being teased.
Their attention is drawn back to the field by the start of the fight. Nolan isn’t a small man himself, but Ghost looms over him still. Nolan starts off strong, putting up an aggressive offense and leaving Ghost no choice but to go on the defense. He parries Nolan’s flurry of blows with ease however, flicking each aside as if they were nothing. It’s not long before Nolan begins to wear down, all of his energy used on his assault, and when he leans a bit too far into one swing, Ghost pounces. He sidesteps the swing with ease, letting Nolan’s momentum carry him, and strikes at him hard several times. Nolan tries to defend himself with what little energy he has left, but it’s all in vain. One particularly clever swing from Ghost makes him drop his blade, and with that the fight is over.
“Well I’ll be,” Johnny says as the crowds roar for their victor, “Not just some bloke after all, eh?”
“He’s impressive,” Price agrees from beside him, “Bet he’s going to get a lot of attention after that.”
“He’s certainly caught someone’s attention,” Cecelia says from his other side.
“Quiet, you,” Johnny groans. He watches as Ghost leaves the field, eyes trailing the large man’s movements, curiosity bringing his resolve to try and find the man later that night.
After the show on the first day, everyone is scrambling to fight the newest mystery figure on the battlefield, just as Price expected. Sir Ghost has three fights the second day, and even more the next. Johnny’s eyes stay glued to him the whole time, along with the rest of the crowd’s. He’s quickly become a fan favorite, lads and ladies and everyone in between lingering around to try and catch a glimpse of their mysterious fighter. No one manages, despite their attempts. The knight keeps to himself, staying in his tent during the evenings instead of mingling like the others, much to Johnny’s disappointment. Sanderson does visit him, but no one gains any insight from it aside from the fact the two must be acquainted, as Ghost’s aid lets him into the tent instead of turning him away like everyone else.
He remains undefeated by the end of the third day, with the hearts of the crowd, and a certain MacTavish, firmly in his grasp. Each of his competitors put up a good fight, but none can best him. Garrick nearly had him, getting Ghost off balance and almost toppling him over, but he came back strong and took the victory in the end.
It all concludes on the final day when he’s challenged by a knight known as Makarov, a small but fierce man demanding a fight, claiming he’ll bring their giant down, since no one else has the stones for it. Ghost seems unamused by his blustering, but agrees to a fight regardless. It’s to be the last of the festival, and a buzz of excitement fills the air. Makarov has rarely been defeated himself, only a lucky few able to claim they’ve bested him, and none of them fighting this year.
He’s going to need all the luck he can get, and it’s with that in mind that Johnny finds himself on the grounds looking for the knight before he fights. He spots his towering figure followed by his aide heading towards the ring and picks up his pace.
“Ghost!” Johnny calls, running up behind the man.
He stops in his tracks, turning around. Johnny sees the second he recognizes him, the knight dropping to one knee and removing the helmet that never seems to come off. “Your highness,” he says, as Johnny takes in his pale skin and shock of blond hair. The bottom half of his face is still covered and what is visible is littered with small scars, but by god he’s handsome.
“Ach, that’s nae necessary, sir,” Johnny says, fiddling with his braid nervously.
The knight stands back to his feet, but keeps his helmet off. He’s even taller this close up and his eyes are brown, Johnny notes, the light of the torches turning them to melted caramel. “What can I do for you, your highness?” he asks.
“I just, um,” Johnny replies, dragging himself back to the present moment. He steps closer, enough that they’re almost touching, and holds out his hand. “For you. For good luck.”
Ghost takes the handkerchief from his grasp gently, holding it like something precious. Johnny watches him read the letters embroidered on it, JM. “Thank you,” he says reverently.
“Win for me and I’ll save you a dance tonight, yeah?” Johnny says with a tilted smile.
“Count on it,” he says, and Johnny can hear his smile too.
They stare at each other for a moment, neither sure of what else to say but reluctant to leave, until Ghost’s aid breaks their trance to usher him towards the ring.
Johnny watches him go before sprinting back to the royal platform, making it back to his seat just in time.
“What was that all about?” Cecelia asks him.
“None of your business,” he replies, out of breath, his eyes glued to the man below.
A horn sounds below, and the fight begins. The two circle for a moment, sizing each other up before Makarov makes the first move, going for a side hit that’s easily brushed off by Ghost’s blade. Ghost strikes back in response and is parried effortlessly. They exchange a few blows, none of them landing, before parting and circling each other once more.
“You don’t underestimate me,” Makarov says, sounding impressed. “Good,” he says, and launches into another attack.
Ghost deflects the blow, striking back and landing a hit to Makarov’s leg. It sends him stumbling, but he recovers quickly, lashing back a blow that lands on Ghost’s arm. Ghost responds with a strike at his side, but is parried at the last second. The sound of clanging metal fills the arena as they fight, the audience on the edge of their seats, Johnny most of all. Makarov has always gotten under his skin, and he’d hate to play host for the man at tonight’s feast. He cringes as Ghost takes a hit to the leg, staggering as Makarov continues his approach. As he stumbles Johnny catches a glimpse of his own favor tucked into Ghost’s belt and feels his heart flutter in his chest.
Ghost manages to keep upright, and fights off Makarov as best he can. He lands another blow to the man, turning the tables on him and going on the offensive. He sends a flurry of blows towards the man, eventually knocking him to the ground and sending his blade scattering across the dirt.
The arena is quiet for a moment before the crowd explodes in cheers. Ghost stands heaving as Makarov gets back to his feet with a grimace, the look stuck to his face as they shake hands.
“I’ll see you again, phantom,” he says before retreating to lick his wounds.
Ghost watches him go with a shake of his head, his attention turning to the announcer once more. He’s led up to the royal’s platform to receive his prize, a gilded blade straight from the royal armory.
Cecelia typically presents the prize, but Johnny bodies his sister out of the way, ignoring her huff of protest and grabbing the blade to present it to their victor himself.
“For your skill and valiant fighting,” he says, holding out a sword, the hilt encrusted with jewels, “Congratulations, Ghost.”
“Simon,” he says in place of taking the sword.
“What?” Johnny responds.
“My name,” Ghost clarifies, “Is Simon.”
“Congratulations, Simon,” Johnny replies warmly, smile spreading across his face.
Ghost- Simon reaches out to take the blade then, his fingers brushing Johnny’s along the hilt. “Thank you, your highness.”
“Will you be joining us for the feast tonight as our guest of honor? My daughters would all love to have a dance with you,” Johnny’s father says then, pulling them out of the world that exists between them.
Simon hesitates a second and looks at Johnny before answering. “Of course, your highness. I’d be honored.”
“We’ll see you once you’ve cleaned up, then,” the king says with a clap of his hands.
They’re both ushered away then, Johnny with his family and Simon back to his tent to freshen up. They find each other a few hours later at the feast, Johnny saving a chair for their guest of honor beside his own.
“You clean up quite nicely,” Johnny says, looking him over as he sits. His mask is finally off, left behind in his tent. Johnny takes in the whole of his face, the scars and blemishes and finds him all the more handsome.
“Thank you, your highness,” Simon says, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Ach, enough of that, call me John,” Johnny says with a wave of his hand.
“Alright,” he replies, sipping at his wine. “Then tell me more about yourself, John.”
They chat throughout the feast, talking about all manner of things. They both share an interest in fighting and weapons, trading stories of fights and hunts and all manner of adventures. Eventually the feast winds down and the music picks up, couples taking to the floor together to finish off the celebration.
“Still saving that dance for me, Johnny?” Simon asks over the music, extending a hand. He smiles with the question, and Johnny feels it go straight to his stomach.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Johnny replies with a matching grin, taking his hand and letting himself be led to the floor.
They spend the rest of the night there, swaying into the early morning hours together, unable to be parted. And when Johnny appears late to breakfast the next morning with Simon in tow, no one is surprised.