100 Prompt Challenge - Astelle

Prompt: Who thought it was a good idea to invite an uneducated country bumpkin to a royal ball? Asta regrets ever accepting the invitation that changed his life… or does he?

—

The invitation arrived with all the formality and grandeur expected of the Clover Kingdom's nobility. Asta barely understood half of the words scrawled in elegant golden ink, but he got the gist—he, Asta, commoner, peasant, magicless wonder, had been invited to a royal ball in recognition of his achievements in the Spade War.

Yuno had been invited too, naturally, but he just scoffed when he read his own letter. "I don't see the point of these things."

"Me neither," Asta said with a grin. "But free food is free food, right?"

Yuno sighed. "Just… don't embarrass yourself."

"Pfft! When have I ever—"

Yuno stared at him.

Asta deflated. "Okay, fine. But still! It'll be fine!"

—

It was not fine.

Asta, in all his well-meaning but socially unaware glory, was about to create an incident so massive that history books would struggle to explain it.

The ball was a spectacle unlike anything he'd ever seen. Crystal chandeliers sparkled like constellations, a full orchestra played in the corner, and nobles in extravagant outfits waltzed across the marble floors as if they were floating.

Asta, dressed in the finest suit he had ever worn (courtesy of Finral's connections), immediately felt out of place. He tried his best to copy what everyone else was doing, but within minutes he had:

Mistaken a noble's pet peacock for a decoration

Accidentally challenged a duke to a duel by clinking his glass wrong

Laughed way too loud at a joke that wasn't meant to be funny

Noelle had been watching the entire time, half mortified, half entertained. She, of course, looked stunning in her royal attire, her silver hair pinned up elegantly, her dress embroidered with the Silva family crest. She fit right in.

Asta, on the other hand, stood out like a sore thumb.

Then it happened.

A noblewoman, intrigued by the "war hero of common birth," approached. She smiled at Asta, her interest obvious.

"You're quite the fascinating man, Sir Asta," she purred. "Would you be so kind as to escort me for a dance?"

Asta, trying his best to be polite, panicked.

Then his eyes landed on Noelle.

Without thinking—without any understanding of what it meant—he casually reached out and took Noelle's hand instead.

"Sorry, but I'm with her."

The entire ballroom went silent.

Noelle froze. "Wha—?!"

The noblewoman gasped. Someone dropped their glass. Murmurs erupted like wildfire.

Because in high noble society, that gesture—the way Asta had taken Noelle's hand so openly, so confidently—wasn't just casual affection.

It was a public declaration.

Asta had, in front of royalty and nobility, claimed Noelle Silva as his partner.

—

Noelle had never wanted to strangle someone more in her entire life.

Within minutes of Asta's oblivious proclamation, the rumors had spread. By the time the ball ended, it was no longer if they were together but when the wedding was happening.

The next morning, Nozel stormed into the Black Bulls' base.

"Asta." His voice was calm. Deadly.

Asta, still blissfully unaware of the disaster he had caused, grinned. "Hey, Nozel! What's up?"

Nozel's eye twitched.

"You. My sister. Engaged."

Asta blinked. "Huh?"

Noelle, hiding in the corner, groaned. "You absolute idiot."

Nozel crossed his arms. "You publicly declared Noelle as your partner in front of high society. Do you understand what that means?"

Asta scratched his head. "Uh… that we're friends?"

Nozel exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No. It means, in the eyes of the nobility, you've staked a claim on her. To back out now would be to damage Noelle's honor."

Asta frowned. "Wait, so… what am I supposed to do?"

Nozel narrowed his eyes. "Take responsibility. Marry her."

Silence.

Then—

"WHAAAAAAAAT?!"

—

Noelle wasn't sure how to feel.

On one hand, she wasn't ready for marriage. On the other, this was Asta.

Asta, who had always treated her as an equal.

Asta, who had fought alongside her, bled beside her.

Asta, who—despite his usual stupidity—had unknowingly done what no noble ever had.

He had chosen her.

Not because of her family name. Not because of politics. But because, in that moment, he had seen her and only her.

And that made her heart ache in ways she wasn't ready to admit.

Over the following months, preparations began. Meetings with nobles. Engagement announcements. Wedding plans.

Asta, for his part, was determined to do this right.

"If we're doing this," he said one night, sitting with Noelle under the stars, "then I want to be the best husband I can be."

Noelle's face burned. "I-I don't need you to be anything special, idiot."

Asta grinned. "Too bad! I'm already training for it."

And he did.

He learned court manners (with mixed success).

He read books about noble traditions (with painful difficulty).

He even practiced dancing so he wouldn't embarrass her again.

Slowly, Noelle found herself falling.

Or rather, realizing she had already fallen.

Then, one evening, Asta knocked on her door.

"Noelle." His voice was softer than usual. "Can I talk to you?"

She opened the door, frowning. "What's wrong?"

Asta hesitated, then smiled.

"I think I get it now."

Noelle's heart pounded. "Get… what?"

His cheeks turned pink. "Why I don't feel the same way about Sister Lily anymore."

Noelle froze.

Asta rubbed the back of his head. "I used to think love was about big gestures. Like shouting it at the top of your lungs or proposing a hundred times. But… I think real love is different."

He met her eyes.

"It's when you want to make someone happy just because seeing them happy makes you happy."

Noelle's breath hitched.

Asta grinned. "And when I think about who makes me happiest…" He stepped closer. "It's you, Noelle."

Her eyes widened.

"I don't just want to marry you because of a mistake," Asta said. "I want to marry you because—"

He took her hands.

"Because I love you."

Noelle's vision blurred with unshed tears.

Then, she did something she never thought she'd be brave enough to do.

She threw her arms around him and whispered—

"I love you too, idiot."

—

The wedding was grand, magnificent, everything a noble wedding should be. But for Asta and Noelle, none of that mattered.

As they stood before the altar, surrounded by friends, rivals, and nobles who still hadn't recovered from the scandal, all Asta could see was her.

His bride. His best friend. His future.

Noelle, dressed in silvery white, met his gaze with something softer than pride, deeper than admiration.

Love.

The priest cleared his throat. "Do you, Asta, take Noelle as your lawfully wedded wife?"

Asta beamed. "I do!"

"And do you, Noelle, take Asta as your lawfully wedded husband?"

Noelle smiled—truly, openly. "I do."

The priest nodded. "Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Asta didn't wait. He pulled Noelle into his arms and kissed her, grinning against her lips as cheers erupted around them.

When he pulled away, he whispered—

"I can't wait to spend forever with you."

Noelle smirked.

"Then you better keep up, husband."