Prompt: At a royal ball, Noelle is reluctantly forced to attend. When Asta arrives as a special guest due to his accomplishments, the nobles dismiss him. However, when the music starts, Asta surprises everyone by offering Noelle a dance. Noelle, flustered but eager to prove her worth, accepts, and they share a moment neither expected to feel so meaningful.

—

Noelle didn't appreciate her current position or surroundings in the least.

She tried her best to ignore her eldest brother, who stood icily and uncomfortably close beside her, wearing a shiny suit adorned with floral patterns.

Noelle never knew how to react when it came to Nozel. He was different from Solid and Nebra, who enjoyed messing with her and making her life a living hell.

He was standoffish not just with her but with pretty much everyone. As long as she didn't do anything to enter his sight, she wouldn't have to be on the receiving end of any torment.

So she didn't know what to feel besides being uncomfortable when her practically estranged big brother ordered her to stand by his side, in suffocating silence, for this equally suffocating event.

Noelle looked across the grand Clover Castle ballroom, taking in the prideful and disgustingly smug lords, ladies, and heirs of the aristocracy and royalty. They engaged in pleasantries with thinly veiled grimaces as the royal ball unfolded.

After the recent Star Festival, where the King had declared the establishment of the Royal Knights, he also organized this ball to show "solidarity" among the upper class and unify them in the goal of defeating the Eye of the Midnight Sun.

It was stated as a rallying cry to draw the best of the best in the kingdom—the nobility—to participate in the upcoming exam and earn their place among the Royal Knights.

But in reality, it was just another excuse to hold a typical party, where nobles and royalty could come together to engage in banter, flaunt their wealth, network, socialize, throw shade at the lowborn for no reason, participate in light party games, and, of course, dance.

What kind of ball didn't have dance and music?

Noelle never thought it would concern her. She didn't expect to receive an invitation to this gathering, especially since she'd been essentially kicked out of House Silva in all but name.

But lo and behold, she woke one day to find a royal summons paired with the expensive, beautiful, yet chokingly tight silver dress she currently wore on her desk. The low collar and nearly bare back only added to her discomfort—all courtesy of her eldest brother.

It seemed Nozel hadn't forgotten he had a second sister. And that's how Noelle ended up here, at this uncomfortable event, in this uncomfortable dress, and in this uncomfortable position beside the Silver Eagle captain.

She didn't want to be here. She wanted to go home.

Much could be said about home in Noelle's mind no longer being the castle she currently stood in, but the Black Bull base.

But that was a topic for another time.

Perhaps the one saving grace of staying by her brother's side was that her other siblings wouldn't dare humiliate her now. Not only would it reflect poorly on themselves, but also on House Silva and Nozel himself, when under the eyes of the nobility.

Moreover, many of the icky noble lords and heirs who looked at her like a piece of meat to devour—or a prize to be won so they could forge a tighter relationship with her house—didn't dare approach her.

Because approaching her meant approaching Nozel, and few dared to do that.

Noelle, thankful for the protection her brother's presence offered, abruptly stiffened and cast Nozel an imperceptible sidelong glance.

Did Nozel do this on purpose… no, what am I saying? There's no way he'd do something like that for someone like me.

Noelle inwardly shook her head, trying to dispel those thoughts. She figured Nozel was likely more concerned about a failure like her being easily misled and swayed. After all, what if he woke up one day to hear that the youngest princess of House Silva was pregnant with a rival family's child and heir? The repercussions would be disastrous—opportunistic nobility using that child as an excuse to take a bite out of the Silva family's inheritance, wealth, and power.

That was the truth she had convinced herself of. Nozel didn't care about her chastity, innocence, or dignity being stolen. What mattered to him were the potential consequences for House Silva.

That's the truth, Noelle told herself. Nozel's only following his duty as Lord of House Silva.

And yet, she was grateful—grateful that she didn't have to endure the revolting disgust of having one of those pigs place their hands on her, touching her body under the chandelier.

The only one who can touch me is—

Her thoughts screeched to a halt, and her face flushed in embarrassment.

Wh-what am I saying?! N-n-no one can t-touch me, e-especially not that dork!

A heat began rising to her face and neck, threatening to expose her inner turmoil. She clenched her fists and focused on suppressing it, determined not to make a fool of herself and invite Nozel's ire.

Her embarrassment didn't last long, swiftly replaced by a sinking feeling of something far more depressing.

"Just look at her, the failure of House Silva, standing so shamelessly close to Duke Nozel. Who does she think she is?"

Noelle froze, her body stiffening further as her eyes darted across the room. She spotted a group of noble ladies throwing dirty looks her way, their voices loud and exaggerated, clearly meant to draw attention.

"I heard she's a failure not just in magic, but even in the basic arts of a noble lady! I hear she can't even sing or dance!"

The noble ladies erupted into thunderous laughter, only to be interrupted by a rumbling voice.

"Can't dance? Acier Silva's daughter can't dance? How preposterous! I'll show you wrong!"

"No, me!"

"Me first!"

Noelle's heart sank as she watched, her trepidation growing. Noblemen, who had been looking at her hungrily since the start of the ball, began approaching her with unbridled, unhidden grins of perverse delight.

Her body trembled as defeat and despair settled over her. She realized what was happening. She wasn't the only target here—Nozel, Lord Silva himself, was an even bigger one.

The noble ladies wanted to cozy up to Nozel, seduce him, and become Lady Silva, a duchess. But they had no valid excuse to approach him while he was "escorting" his sister.

So, they had teamed up with the noblemen who had their eyes on Noelle. Together, they concocted this overdramatic act to create a reason to separate her from her brother.

Solid and Nebra weren't feasible targets. Their reputations for cruelty preceded them; the pair had toyed with and ruined many noble men and women. Right now, they were "entertaining" Augustus himself, and no one dared interrupt the King's conversation.

That left only Nozel and Noelle—two individuals at opposite ends of the spectrum. One was a renowned genius and powerful figure, the other a nearly disowned failure. But both were equally appealing. Gaining the favor of either could provide an opportunity to access House Silva's power or at least establish a foothold in the royal house.

And so, those wolves in human clothing approached Noelle under the guise of defending her honor and proving to the crowd that she could, in fact, dance. But in reality, they sought to give her unpleasant, unforgettable memories—ones that would bind her to them. The only way for her to protect her honor afterward would be to commit herself to one of them.

With her out of the way, the countless brazen hussies among the noblewomen who had set their sights on Nozel would be free to swarm him, hoping to earn his favor.

Noelle couldn't turn them down. Not only would it be "disgracefully" disrespectful to these "brave" men fighting for her honor, but refusing would practically amount to a silent agreement with the noble ladies' mocking words.

She was already recognized as a magical failure among the nobility. If she couldn't do something as simple as dance, her reputation would be ruined forever, dragging House Silva's name down with her.

Noelle did know how to dance—she was quite good at it, in fact. But she would never wish to dance with any of those pigs.

She understood that, as a member of the family—even if no one acknowledged her—she was still expected to do her best to serve it. But no matter how hard she tried to steel herself, she just couldn't bring herself to want to dance with them.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as the horde of noblemen sauntered toward her. Noelle clenched her fists and bit her lip, then turned to her side and looked up at her elder brother.

She shot him a look she hadn't given him in years, a look she had long since stopped hoping he would ever answer. But now, out of desperation, she looked at Nozel with hope.

Hope that he will do something.

Hope that, even if he couldn't, he would shield her from those gluttonous pigs, no matter how poorly it might reflect on their house.

Hope that he would, for once, be her big brother and protect her.

It was a silent plea for help.

Her heart sank as she took in his unphased, indifferent, and unreadable expression, as though what was about to happen didn't concern him in the slightest.

She bit her lip harder, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and stepped forward to embrace her fate, praying that whoever reached her first wouldn't try anything too extreme.

Please don't be too handsy, she thought, her chest tightening. Please don't drag this out longer than necessary.

Eyes squeezed shut, she suddenly felt a relatively small hand wrap gently around her wrist. Her breath hitched as the hand guided her toward the center of the ballroom.

Nozel's cold gaze shifted to the figure escorting his sister away. His eyes flicked briefly to the gawking noblemen, their "treasure" stolen right in front of them, and the corners of his mouth curled imperceptibly upward for the briefest of moments.

Unaware of her brother's expression, Noelle felt a faint sense of relief at the gentleness of her partner's grip. Maybe they're young, she thought, not some old creep. Maybe they know a thing or two about chivalry.

The thought made what was about to happen feel slightly more bearable.

When hands rested lightly on her waist, Noelle trembled, her body swaying slightly as the first notes of The Nutcracker began to play. Slowly, she opened her eyes, revealing her pink irises rimmed faintly with red from her earlier tears.

Her eyes abruptly froze, pupils dilating as they caught a glimpse of green—a familiar, unmistakable green she had seen countless times in her dreams. Those dreams were always accompanied by the figure she found herself pining for, looking up at her.

His messy ash-blonde hair, usually wild and untamed, was neatly combed, his forehead exposed without his signature headband.

His forearms, typically bare for all to see, were now hidden beneath the sleeves of a sleek black dress jacket. The jacket was unbuttoned, revealing a crisp white shirt underneath, complete with a bow tie. Matching black pants and polished shoes completed his outfit, their shine catching the light.

Asta sported a soft smile that made her chest flutter as their gazes locked.

"A-Asta?!" Noelle hissed, her voice cracking in disbelief as her eyes widened. "W-what are you doing here?!"

Asta beamed, his brows curving upwards as he flashed a toothy grin. "Yuno and I both got invitations as the 'star rookies' or whatever. I think the Wizard King had something to do with that."

Noelle blinked as Asta's smile faltered slightly. His expression grew faintly apologetic as he continued. "Originally, I wasn't going to come… fancy things like this aren't really my thing. And, uh, I kind of rubbed His Majesty the wrong way at the festival… but…"

Noelle glanced across the ballroom, her head tilting to the side, and cringed when she caught sight of Augustus' darkened expression, his teeth grinding audibly. She quickly turned her attention back to Asta, who seemed utterly unbothered by the King's ire. Instead, he simply rocked her back and forth faster as the music picked up.

Noelle bit her lip, her heart racing as the realization sank in—Asta's hands were on her waist. She leaned in slightly, her voice a soft whisper. "But what?"

She looked up at him, her breath hitching as she noticed the uncharacteristically serious expression that briefly crossed his face before he smiled again.

"Mr. Finral said you'd be going," Asta replied, his voice steady. "And I know how the nobles and royals can kind of be… well, douchebags to you. So I had to come—to support my friend!"

Noelle's cheeks flushed furiously as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. "I-I see—"

"And…" Asta interrupted, his tone trailing off as he hesitated.

There's more?! Noelle inwardly screamed, her nerves on edge as she caught the uncertain look in his eyes. Then he glanced her up and down, making her painfully aware of her appearance.

"And, maybe it's because you're always bragging about being royalty," Asta began, his voice softening, "that I sometimes forget you're a princess. But when I don't, I… I tend to imagine how you'd look all dressed up, you know, like this. All princessy."

Asta's voice dropped to a near whisper, just barely audible over the music. When Noelle deciphered his words—along with the faint rosy tint on his cheeks and the shy, almost meek expression he wore—her heart skipped a beat. A shiver ran down her spine.

"Y-you look really nice and pretty…" he murmured. "You should wear your hair like that more often."

Noelle's face turned crimson, her thoughts spinning into a dizzying blur. The rhythm of their dance quickened, but all she could focus on was the warmth of his words echoing in her mind.

Asta was incredibly fortunate. Most of the jewelry she wore tonight were hidden magical tools—mana suppressors Nozel had insisted she use, just in case she had an "episode" and flooded the ballroom.

She had been hurt when Nozel told her to wear them, arguing that she could control her magic now—albeit not perfectly—but enough to keep it from slipping uncontrollably.

Now, she was nothing but grateful. Perhaps the suppressors had an added effect, calming her inner turmoil just enough to let her process Asta's words somewhat calmly, even as she grasped the full implication of what he had just said.

Noelle wasn't wearing her usual pigtails tonight. Instead, her hair was tied back into a light ponytail—the same style her mother used to wear, or so she'd been told.

Growing up, she was forbidden—violently, at times—by her siblings from ever styling her hair that way. They claimed it was an insult to their mother, the woman Noelle had been accused of killing simply by being born.

The trauma from those encounters lingered long after she left Castle Silva. Even during her time at the Black Bulls' base, she never dared to wear her hair in that style again. None of her squadmates had ever seen her like this, which probably left Asta, who didn't know the whole story, wondering why she avoided it.

Still, she couldn't fathom why Nozel had ordered her hairdresser to style it this way now. Nor could she comprehend how Nebra and Solid managed to ignore her completely when she entered the ballroom looking like this. They didn't react with fury or tear into her as they normally would—they acted as though she didn't even exist.

That unnerved her.

Noelle couldn't shake the feeling that they were simply holding back their rage for now and would unleash it later. Several times throughout the ball, she resisted the urge to pull out the hairband, hoping it might quell whatever inner fury her siblings were suppressing.

But she never dared to when she was standing beside Nozel.

She was grateful for her restraint now as she watched Asta's face—a blushing, flustered mess. She wanted to see him like that more often, though only when it came to her. Not that it meant anything, of course, so she firmly told herself not to read into it.

Looking at Asta caused some other thoughts and memories to resurface in Noelle's mind.

The memory of Asta on his "date" with Kahono during the festival right in front of her, having his first kiss stolen by that redhead Rebecca right in front of her, and his endless talk about marrying a nun right in front of her made Noelle bite her lip. An unfamiliar, uncharacteristic inclination bubbled within her.

And this time, she gave in to it.

She wrapped her arms around Asta's neck and moved in sync with him, slightly rocking her hips. Asta's breath hitched, and he swallowed hard, his face growing redder by the second. Noelle shot him a blooming smile, relishing the goofy, dumbstruck expression he wore.

Then, with a teasing pout, she wet her lips slightly. "Any other reason you're here?"

Right on cue, Asta's carefree grin returned as he nodded. "I heard there was going to be dancing. I've never danced with you before, so I couldn't miss the chance!"

Asta had looked forward to this moment more than he cared to admit. One sleepless night, the thought of Noelle dancing with anyone else but him had wormed its way into his mind. The idea felt so deeply, inexplicably wrong that he couldn't comprehend it.

So he took what little gold he had left after sending most of it to Hage this month—yule still saved after finally listening to Sister Lily and Father Orsi's letters pleading with him to keep some for himself. With Finral's help, he bought a decent suit, got changed, did a quick "rehearsal," and arrived just in time to cut off the pigs from laying a single hand on Noelle.

In a completely platonic, protective friend kind of way, of course. Nothing else.

Noelle blushed again, though this time, it was a softer, subtler flush. She found herself growing inexplicably more comfortable with Asta as she listened to the music nearing its introduction. A small smile played on her lips.

"Do you even know how to waltz?" she asked.

Asta nodded. He didn't mention, with starry-eyed enthusiasm, that Sister Lily—being a noble—used to dance with him and the other kids at the orphanage for fun. She'd taught them all kinds of dances, including the waltz. Although it had been a while, Finral and Vanessa had given him a quick refresher before he arrived.

For some reason, though, Asta hesitated to bring up Sister Lily in front of Noelle. It felt wrong to him in a way he couldn't quite explain. How could talking about Sister Lily ever be wrong?

He didn't dwell on it for long, trusting his instincts instead. If it felt wrong, then it was wrong.

It must be nice to have that much faith in your gut feelings.

Noelle smiled, intertwining her right hand with Asta's left and lifting them upward, while his right hand settled on her bare back. A slight jolt ran through both of them at the contact, which only deepened when she draped her left arm over his shoulder.

As the intro concluded, Noelle leaned closer, her lips brushing near Asta's ear, her warm breath making him shiver.

"Prove it," she whispered, her tone soft yet challenging.

Asta's green eyes burned with determination at those two words, and her playful smile only spurred him on.

The music swelled, and their smiles bloomed—not stiff or forced, but genuine and bright. Asta led confidently, and Noelle followed in perfect rhythm. His left foot stepped forward as hers moved back, both trailing feet coming together with unspoken synchronicity.

They matched the beat with ease, stepping on the first count and gliding smoothly on the next two. The pattern reversed seamlessly, with Noelle stepping forward and Asta responding in kind.

Asta's movements weren't flawless, but Noelle adjusted so naturally to his missteps that they seemed nonexistent. Together, they found a rhythm that resonated deeply, each small mistake smoothed over by their connection.

As the flow of their dance grew stronger, their smiles widened. Asta raised their joined hands, and Noelle ducked her head to twirl beneath his arm, her dress swirling around her. In that instant, the rest of the room faded away.

The spectators, the grandeur of the ballroom, and even the music itself became a blur. All that remained was them.

They laughed softly as they spun and stepped, weaving irregular patterns across the floor. Each twirl felt like a fleeting yet magical moment, one that made their smiles brighter and their laughter lighter.

When their hands parted briefly for a spin, the distance between them felt unbearable. Asta pulled her back quickly, each time holding her closer, their steps bringing them nearer with every cycle.

Soon, their chests were pressed together, their movements more intimate than the formal waltz they had started with. The dance took on a life of its own—part waltz, part something entirely their own.

Neither sought space or separation. Their closeness felt right, as though nothing else could matter.

Asta's hand began tracing slow, deliberate circles on her back. Noelle didn't flinch or pull away. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her breath soft and steady as though the warmth of his hand anchored her.

The dance continued, unbroken and unrestrained. The cycles of steps and spins carried them into a world that felt entirely theirs, one that existed far beyond the eyes of those watching.

Just before the moment could grow even more suggestive, the music abruptly slowed and softened, signaling its finale. Instinctively, Asta dipped her.

Bending his knees slightly to support her weight, he held Noelle's right hand firmly in his left while his other arm supported her back. Noelle reclined gracefully, her body perfectly straight as her hairband slipped free. Her long silver hair spilled down like a waterfall, catching the soft glow of the ballroom lights. Her arms clung to his shoulders as she gazed up at him with an expression so tender it left him breathless.

Asta met her gaze, his green eyes unwavering. In that instant, there was no longer any nun in his heart—only her.

I guess I like Noelle quite a bit.

The memory of his offhand remark from days ago replayed in both their minds like a persistent echo. What once seemed like a casual, fleeting thought now felt profound. Those words carried weight. They were no longer random, no longer nonsense, but something real.

The music stopped.

They remained frozen in the pose for a heartbeat longer, their breaths shallow and uneven. Then, slowly, Asta pulled her upright. They stood facing each other, their hands still clasped, as if letting go would shatter the fragile magic of the moment.

In perfect harmony, Asta bowed deeply—his posture precise and deliberate—while Noelle dipped into an elegant curtsy, her silver gown shimmering like liquid starlight.

No applause followed. The room was filled with a heavy, almost oppressive silence, broken only by the venomous glares of the noble lords aimed squarely at Asta. Yet neither he nor Noelle paid them any mind. Their world was reduced to just the two of them.

Not the nobility, not the King, not even Noelle's siblings mattered in that moment. Their attention was entirely on each other. Green met pink, their irises locked and enchanted, as soft smiles curled their lips.

Because of that, neither noticed the vermillion-haired girl in the beautiful yellow dress. She had hurried to the ballroom upon hearing that Asta had been invited, only to freeze at the sight before her. Her expression crumbled, and without a word, she turned and fled back through the wide twin doors, her tear-streaked face betraying the sound of her maidenly heart shattering like glass.

Nor did they notice the tall, silver-haired man lingering in the crowd, his presence unassuming yet heavy. His hair, styled like Nozel's, and his blue eyes bore a striking resemblance to Solid's. The man's gaze remained fixed on the couple, though in his mind's eye, Asta and Noelle seemed to blur and morph.

Instead of them, he saw a stiff, slightly awkward boy who looked so much like Nozel and Solid. That boy was gazing at a girl who resembled Noelle but had lavender eyes like Nozel's.

The man's ocean-blue eyes dulled, his expression sinking into a deep, swirling void of melancholy. Without a word, he spun on his heel, his shoulders hunched and his steps heavy. Silently, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving as quietly as he had arrived.