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The weeks leading up to the tourney were absolute chaos as the whole of Midgar prepared to entertain not only their own noble house of Shinra but visiting nobility as well. Lady Lucrecia Crescent sits in the highest, most comfortably situated stands next to the newly crowned King Rufus Shinra as they size each other up under the guise of chivalrous competition.
Everyone is in high spirits, hundreds of townsfolk are stomping and cheering in the wooden stands surrounding the jousting arena and Cloud counts himself among them. Shinra’s heraldry flies high above them all, red and white banners trailing through the sky and casting heavy shadows over the large gathering. Cloud squints against the high noon sun and sees a man with bright red hair across the field adjusting the large white pauldrons of Lady Crescent’s champion. The knight is immense, tall and broad shouldered, and Cloud swallows painfully at how his imposing stature nearly triples as he mounts his steed.
“Eh, he doesn’t seem all that impressive.”
There’s warm breath on the shell of his ear and Cloud turns, heart jumping wildly in his chest. Zack is right behind him, decked out in plate armor that catches the sunlight and Shinra’s crest is stamped over his heart like a wound. A chocobo profile is painted on the inside of his right vambrace, perfectly in view whenever he holds a lance, and a Gongagan flag is painted on the other. He’s handsome and heroic and the stands erupt into cheers at the sight of him; his eyes never leave Cloud’s.
“He’s going to knock you on your ass,” Cloud says, biting the inside of his cheek as he hooks his fingers into the collar of Zack’s chestplate, tugging him close.
“Such kind words from my squire,” Zack laughs as he shortens the distance between them even more, ever brash and brave; his gauntleted hand brushes Cloud’s hip before curling into a fist at his side. “Kinder yet from my love.”
Cloud flushes to the roots of his hair.
The crowd’s attention is heavy across his shoulders and he ducks his burning face as he checks Zack’s armor. He tugs the padding on Zack’s pauldron a little more roughly than he needs to and he feels Zack’s lips skim his forehead. Zack had merely lost his footing due to the clumsiness of his squire, that’s all. It would be easily dismissible if anyone were to spread rumors of a Shinra knight and a lowly peasant fraternizing.
It’s an unwanted, uncomfortable charade they play but a necessary one. At least, they hope, until Cloud earns his own knighthood.
Everything is fastened properly, Zack’s competed in jousting tourney’s more times than either of them can count, but it’s tradition at this point. And the great thing about traditions is that they can evolve, be made new.
Cloud pulls out an old handkerchief from his pack. It’s faded from its original dark blue but the small rendition of Nibel mountain is embroidered in silver thread in one corner and his initials directly across from it. Cloud lays it flat against his palm and lifts his head to meet Zack’s stare once more. He’s watching intently, eyes wide, and his mouth parts to release a shaky breath as Cloud lifts his hand to press a kiss to the lovingly worn cloth.
“Cloud—”
The horns cut through the commotion of the crowd only to set them at a feverpitch of deafening revelry as they signal the final call before the match commences.
Cloud begins to hastily fold the handkerchief into a neat square—Zack can tuck it into the collar of the chestplate, there should be enough room—but his hands are halted. Zack’s gauntlets cover Cloud’s bare skin and he gently pulls the cloth from his grasp, fingers trailing across Cloud’s palms.
“I need my helmet.”
Cloud blinks, stock still in shock as Zack huffs bemusedly and moves around him to collect the rest of his gear himself. It’s practically unheard of for a knight to ready his own weaponry while his squire gawks like a fool but convention has never been their strong suit.
Zack ties the handkerchief to the back of his helmet with the utmost care and Cloud’s nigh close to fainting at the sight of his heraldry being worn openly on one of Lord Shinra’s most trusted men. His heraldry is being worn openly as the love token that it is.
He’s still staring like a fool as Zack mounts his horse, helmet tucked under his arm as he smiles beatifically down at Cloud.
“Will my squire cheer for me?”
Cloud’s face feels like it’s been set alight, his pulse beyond his control, and he distracts himself by picking up the lance. It’s incredibly unwieldy and he shuffles over to Zack, breath thin but enough to huff out a thready, “Always.”
Zack hums and grasps the lance, steadying it easily with one hand when Cloud leans it against the side of the horse. He lifts his right arm, presses a barely-there kiss to the chocobo painted on his vambrace before hauling the lance up and into his arms. Cloud’s seen it countless times by now but it still sets his belly aflutter—such courageous, deep affection on display in front of the kingdom and their king but known only to them.
Zack’s smile softens and his eyes rake over Cloud’s face with a tenderness that takes his already weak breath away. “Will my love marry me?”
The horns blare once more, signaling the start of the match, and Zack hoists the lance up. Zack slips on his helmet and the handkerchief sways against the shining metal. Cloud’s knees feel close to giving out but he stands on tip-toes and clutches Zack’s free hand tightly in his own.
“Yes!"
Zack squeezes his hands firmly and gives a loud, joyous shout before grabbing hold of the reins and charging down the field. Cloud’s heart is in his throat but he yells himself hoarse and watches his beloved tear across the arena, his token fluttering after him.