Prompt: A Queen and her Wizard King—bound by duty, drawn by circumstance—struggle to deny the force that pulls them together in a way it shouldn't. Perhaps its time for two thrones to become one.
—
The throne room of Clover Castle had never felt so suffocating. Ornate gold and crimson banners draped the walls, the lingering scent of aged parchment and candle wax thick in the air. Nobles crowded the chamber, their hushed murmurs slithering through the silence like vipers in tall grass. The royal guards stood stiff as statues, hands resting on their swords, awaiting the final verdict that would shape the kingdom's future.
At the center of it all, Noelle Silva stood unyielding.
Her silver hair cascaded over her shoulders, the grandeur of her family's legacy pressing down upon her, yet she did not falter. She had fought wars, defied expectations, and shattered every limit placed upon her. Today would be no different.
Seated before her, Augustus Kira Clover XIII sneered atop his throne—no, his throne. Or at least, that was what he believed. His pudgy fingers drummed against the gilded armrest, impatience twisting his expression into something grotesque. "You dare stand before me, Noelle Silva, with demands?" His voice, high-pitched and grating, carried poorly through the vast chamber.
Noelle met his gaze without hesitation. "Not demands—justice."
The words struck like a whip.
The assembled nobles stiffened, some exchanging wary glances. House Silva and House Vermillion stood at Noelle's back, their combined influence forming an unshakable wall of support. Even Fuegoleon and Mereoleona were present, their presence alone a silent warning to those who might object.
For centuries, the monarchy had ruled unchecked, prioritizing their own wealth and status while commoners suffered under oppressive laws and arbitrary taxes. Augustus was the pinnacle of that corruption—inept, cowardly, and desperate to cling to power. But today, his reign of mediocrity would end.
"You speak out of turn," Augustus spat, his lips curling in distaste. "The kingdom has flourished under my rule! Who else but the Clover bloodline is fit to lead?"
Noelle took a step forward, the heels of her regal boots clicking against the marble floor. She was no longer the timid girl who shrank in the presence of her so-called betters. "Flourished?" She let out a short, sharp laugh. "Our people starve while you throw feasts. Farmers struggle to pay their levies while you demand more gold to decorate your halls. The kingdom needs a ruler who stands for all its people—not just the nobility."
"You would have a girl rule in my place?" Augustus scoffed. "A Silva, no less? The Silva family has never been fit to wear the crown!"
Noelle bristled inwardly. The Silvamillion name graced that throne long before you Kira's ever did you pig!
The Silva Princess was just about to give the King her two cents but before she could respond, a new voice echoed through the chamber.
"You're wrong."
Asta strode forward, dressed in the flowing white-and-gold mantle of the Wizard King. His presence sent a ripple through the room. Though his journey had been an uphill battle against prejudice, he had proven himself time and time again—a magicless peasant who rose through sheer will and unshakable belief in justice.
"The people believe in Noelle," Asta declared, stopping beside her. His green eyes burned with conviction. "And so do I." And that's enough.
Augustus paled, his authority crumbling beneath the weight of opposition. He turned toward the gathered nobility, seeking allies, but found only downturned eyes and hesitant silence. Even those who might have supported him dared not speak against House Silva and House Vermillion standing united.
"You—You can't do this!" Augustus screeched, rising from his throne. "I am the rightful king!"
Fuegoleon stepped forward, his presence as imposing as a roaring fire. "Not anymore."
Mereoleona cracked her knuckles. "You've had a good run, Augustus. Time to step aside before we make you."
Realizing he had lost, Augustus collapsed back onto the throne, his face ashen. He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could utter another pathetic excuse, the decision was sealed.
Noelle ascended the steps to the throne, her movements deliberate and sure. As she reached the seat of power, she turned to face the people of the chamber—the people of the kingdom.
"I swear to lead Clover Kingdom into a new era," she declared, her voice carrying across the vast hall. "One where nobility does not define worth. One where all citizens—commoners, peasants, and nobles alike—will stand as equals under the rule of law."
Asta watched her from below, a proud smile tugging at his lips.
For the first time in history, the kingdom had a Queen Monarch.
And standing at her side, as her equal, as her unwavering support—was the Wizard King.
—
The coronation had barely ended before the work began.
Noelle barely had time to sit on the throne before stacks of documents, proposals, and decrees flooded her desk. There was no honeymoon period—no grace to adjust. The kingdom had been rotting under Augustus for far too long, and every wasted second meant more suffering for the people.
But she wasn't alone.
At the heart of the palace, in the grand council chamber, Noelle sat at the head of a long table, her silver armor replaced with royal robes of deep violet and silver trim. Across from her, Asta, now adorned in the pristine white and gold of the Wizard King, leaned forward, scanning a document with rare focus. The nobility and the Magic Knight captains filled the seats around them, watching, waiting.
She exhaled. This was it—the moment they would reshape the kingdom.
"The first order of business," Noelle began, her voice steady, "is to abolish the noble tax."
A murmur rippled through the room.
"Effective immediately," she continued, "commoners will no longer be forced to pay excessive dues simply for existing." She met the eyes of the gathered nobles, daring them to challenge her. "For too long, wealth has determined worth in this kingdom. That ends now."
Several nobles stiffened. Lord Ledior of House Vaude scoffed, adjusting the cuffs of his elaborately embroidered coat. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, the noble tax has been in place for centuries. If you remove it, how do you expect us to maintain our estates? Our lands?"
Asta slammed a hand on the table, causing several scrolls to rattle. "Maybe try working for once." His voice was calm, but the edge of irritation was unmistakable. "The commoners don't get to leech off people beneath them—they work themselves to the bone just to survive. And you're complaining about cutting back on luxuries?"
Ledior turned red, but before he could retort, Fuegoleon cleared his throat. "I support the Queen's decision," he stated firmly. "House Vermillion has never relied on such a tax, and we continue to prosper. If nobility means strength, then let it be the strength to serve, not to exploit."
Mereoleona smirked, arms crossed. "Frankly, if your house crumbles just because you have to pay your own bills, you don't deserve your noble status in the first place."
Nozel nodded along stoically.
The murmurs grew into quiet agreement.
Noelle pressed forward. "With the funds reallocated, we will also begin establishing free public education across the kingdom."
This time, the shock was palpable.
"Education?" Lord Fontaine of House Boisclair frowned. "For commoners?"
"Yes," Asta interjected. "For everyone." He leaned back in his chair, grinning. "You guys ever wonder how many future Magic Knights never get a chance to shine because they can't read, or because they don't have a way to learn how to control their magic? We're losing talent before they even have a chance to step into the light."
Noelle nodded. "If we want a kingdom where strength is earned, then everyone must be given the chance to reach their full potential."
Silence followed. This was the first time in history that education would be available outside noble families. A dream—one impossible under Augustus' rule—was suddenly tangible, real.
After a long pause, Captain Rill of the Azure Deer chuckled. "Well, when you put it like that, I do like the idea of more talented mages in the future!"
Charlotte nodded. "It's a logical step forward."
Yami sighed, leaning back with a grin. "You're making it real hard for me to argue, kid."
The vote passed. Education for all.
One reform after another followed:
Land redistribution, ensuring fairer ownership for farmers.
A restructured Magic Knights system, where promotions were based on merit, not birthright.
Stronger anti-corruption laws, punishing those who exploited their status.
Social programs to aid the poor, the sick, and the war-torn.
The changes were swift, relentless, and, for the first time in history, welcomed by both the military and the nobility.
Why?
Because Asta and Noelle weren't just rulers—they were leaders.
They didn't sit idly in the palace, expecting others to handle things.
Asta personally visited the Magic Knight squads, ensuring every captain was aligned with the new vision. Noelle met with aristocratic families, proving that the changes wouldn't weaken them but instead create a stronger kingdom.
And when necessary, they stood together—back to back, shoulder to shoulder—presenting a united front against opposition.
Their partnership was seamless. Unshakable.
They spent hours drafting new policies, debating their impact, adjusting strategies. They reviewed letters from citizens together, discussing how best to address their needs.
And when the sun dipped below the horizon, and the palace halls quieted…
They remained.
Late at night, under the warm glow of candlelight, Noelle would glance up from her papers to find Asta still working across from her, his brow furrowed in concentration. He wasn't a politician, wasn't well-versed in diplomacy—but damn, he tried.
He wasn't just the same reckless boy she met years ago. He had matured—his drive refined, his passion channeled into something greater than himself.
And, without fail, whenever she felt her confident, unflappable, and resolute mask slipping, her back bending, shoulders slumping-ever so slightly, whenever she felt tired, he was always there.
"Asta," she murmured one evening, exhaustion thick in her voice, "do you ever regret this?"
He looked up, confused. "Regret what?"
"All of it," she admitted. "Ruling, dealing with nobles, having to read so many documents…"
He chuckled, stretching his arms. "No way. I mean, yeah, it's exhausting, but look at what we've done. People's lives are actually getting better. That's all I've ever wanted." He leaned forward, flashing her a softer smile. "And besides, it's not like I'm doing this alone."
Something warm coiled in her chest.
She looked away, hiding the small smile tugging at her lips.
She wasn't alone.
Neither of them were.
—
Next came the festivals.
Noelle had never been one for royal gatherings, but Asta had a way of making the stiffest occasions feel alive.
At every ball, every ceremony, they were expected to dance. At first, it was nothing more than formality—Asta taking her hand, leading her through elegant steps, both of them keeping a careful distance.
But as time passed, something changed.
Their hands lingered a little longer. Their gazes locked a little too often.
The music would slow, and in those stolen moments, with the world watching but neither of them caring, it became something more than just duty.
Her heart would race when he pulled her close.
His breath would hitch when she whispered his name.
The kingdom had long since begun whispering about their chemistry. The Queen and the Wizard King—an unstoppable force.
And yet, for all their victories, for all the undeniable moments between them, neither had dared to cross that line.
But how much longer could they pretend?
How much longer could they act like ruling a kingdom together wasn't changing them?
How much longer could they ignore the way their professionalism cracked whenever they were left alone in a room?
The answer was simple.
Not much longer at all.
—
The first time Noelle almost lost control, it was midnight in the council chamber.
Stacks of parchment surrounded them, wax seals half-melted under flickering candlelight. Asta sat across from her, scrawling signatures with his usual reckless energy. His coat was long discarded, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the toned forearms of a swordsman.
He groaned, dropping his pen. "Noelle, tell me—what kind of sadistic maniac invented paperwork?"
She smirked, dipping her quill into ink. "Kings and Queens, probably."
"Well, I'd like to fight whoever thought this was a good idea." He stretched, muscles shifting beneath his tunic. "Seriously, I'd take an actual battle over this any day."
Noelle should have responded with something sharp. Something dismissive.
But instead—she just stared.
Because when had Asta's presence become so distracting?
The candlelight played tricks on her—casting warm gold along the strong lines of his jaw, the curve of his cheek. His hair, always a mess, looked almost soft under the glow. He had filled out in the past few years, no longer just the scrappy boy she once knew. He had become a man—her Wizard King.
Asta blinked. "Uh… Noelle?"
Her quill nearly snapped in half.
She jolted upright, heat crawling up her neck. "Wh—what?"
"You were staring," he said bluntly. Then he grinned. "Ohhh, wait. Were you admiring me?"
Her chair scraped against the marble as she shot to her feet. "As if!"
He laughed, throwing his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright! No need to explode on me!"
Noelle spun on her heel, fleeing before he could see how embarrassingly red her face had become.
She spent the rest of the night in her chambers, staring at the ceiling, utterly failing to convince herself that her heart hadn't skipped a beat.
—
The second time, it was at a royal gala.
The ballroom was packed with nobility, swirling gowns and polished boots gliding across the marble floor. Asta had somehow become unreasonably good at dancing, much to her dismay.
He took her hand automatically, leading her into the next waltz.
"You're not even fighting me on this anymore," he teased, his grip firm around her waist.
"Admit it, Noelle. You like dancing with me."
Her stomach did something complicated.
"I tolerate it," she lied.
His laughter rumbled in his chest. "Sure."
The dance began.
They moved in perfect sync, their steps effortless after years of practice. And yet—tonight, something felt different.
Maybe it was the way his fingers rested against her lower back, barely pressing yet sending heat up her spine.
Maybe it was the way his voice dipped lower when he murmured, "You look beautiful tonight."
Maybe it was the way her breath hitched—just a little—when he spun her, catching her waist with ease, holding her closer than necessary.
And maybe—just maybe—it was the way he looked at her.
Because this wasn't just Asta looking at his Queen.
This was Asta looking at her.
The music slowed, their steps barely moving.
They were too close.
Too close.
Her pulse pounded in her ears. His grip on her tightened, his breath warm against her skin. The air between them grew thick—heavy—charged with something dangerous.
And for one terrifying second, she thought—
He might kiss her.
Noelle panicked.
With a sharp twist, she pulled away, breaking the connection. "I—I need a drink."
She fled before she could hear his response.
But she could feel his eyes on her the entire night.
—
The third time, it was during a thunderstorm.
The castle was eerily quiet, most of the staff having turned in for the night. Rain lashed against the windows, wind howling through the halls. Noelle was in the royal study, reading reports by candlelight, when Asta barged in, drenched and breathless.
"Are you insane?" she scolded, jumping up. "You'll catch a cold!"
He shook his head, water dripping from his hair. "I was training outside and lost track of time—then the storm hit." He grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess I underestimated how fast it would get bad."
Noelle sighed, already shrugging off her royal cape. "Here." She draped it over his shoulders, trying not to notice how his soaked tunic clung to his muscles.
His body stiffened slightly.
She glanced up—only to realize how close they were.
She had stepped right into his space, her hands still lingering on his shoulders. His chest rose and fell, water droplets trailing down his collarbone.
His eyes flickered to her lips.
The room felt too small.
Neither of them spoke.
Neither of them moved.
She felt his fingers ghost against her wrist—hesitant, unsure.
And for a split second—just one—Noelle thought, If I just leaned in—
No.
She tore away.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered, storming past him. "You should dry off properly before you get sick."
She barely made it out the door before pressing a trembling hand against her chest, feeling her heart hammer against her ribs.
This was dangerous.
Whatever this was—whatever had been building between them—it couldn't happen.
They were Queen and Wizard King.
They were partners.
They had worked too damn hard to throw everything away for—
For what?
For something that had already begun to consume them?
She closed her eyes, exhaling sharply.
This had to stop.
And yet—deep down, in the part of her heart she had long tried to silence—Noelle already knew.
She didn't want it to stop.
And neither did he.
—
The breaking point came deep in the night, long after the castle had fallen silent.
Noelle had been restless, pacing in her chambers, replaying every almost moment between them—every time she had nearly crossed the line, every time she had felt Asta right there and forced herself to pull away.
But it was a losing battle.
Because she didn't want to pull away anymore.
A knock at her door startled her.
She knew who it was before she even opened it.
Asta stood there, looking just as restless—his jaw tight, his hands clenched at his sides. His usual brightness was missing, replaced by something heavier, something aching.
They stared at each other in the dim candlelight, shadows flickering between them.
Neither spoke.
Because words weren't needed.
Noelle stepped back. He stepped in.
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Silence stretched between them—taut, charged, unbearable.
Then—Asta exhaled, voice barely above a whisper.
"I can't do this anymore."
Her breath hitched. "Do what?"
He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated, as if trying to hold himself back. "Pretend." His gaze met hers—unflinching, unwavering. "Pretend that I don't think about you every damn second. Pretend that you're just my Queen, when you're—"
He cut himself off, shaking his head, as if he couldn't find the right words.
He didn't need to.
Noelle had already closed the distance between them.
Her hands fisted in his tunic, pulling him down, closing the unbearable space between them. His breath was warm against her lips, his heartbeat wild beneath her fingertips.
And this time—she didn't run.
Neither did he.
Asta crashed into her, his hands desperate, certain, as they tangled in her hair, held her flush against him.
The dam had broken.
Every suppressed feeling—every stolen glance, every held breath, every restrained touch—poured into that kiss, igniting something that had been simmering for years.
Noelle had imagined this moment before.
But nothing could have prepared her for the way it felt.
The way his arms caged her in as if he'd never let her go. The way he breathed her name like it was a prayer. The way her own body melted against his, finally, finally, allowing herself to feel everything she had buried for so long.
When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested together, their breaths uneven.
Asta let out a shaky laugh. "We should've done that a long time ago."
Noelle, still dazed, could only manage a breathless, "Shut up."
His grin softened into something warmer, more reverent. His fingers traced her cheek, lingering like he still couldn't believe she was real.
"I love you."
The words hit her harder than any spell ever could.
Noelle had always known—had felt it in every glance, every touch, every moment he stood by her side.
But hearing it—knowing he wasn't just Asta, her childhood friend, her Wizard King—he was hers—
She swallowed hard, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"I love you too."
The words hung between them, fragile yet unbreakable.
Then Asta smiled—that bright, boundless smile that had once seemed so unreachable to her.
But now, it belonged to her.
And she knew, without a shadow of a doubt—
The Clover Kingdom would thrive under them.
Not just as Queen and Wizard King.
But as something far stronger.
Something that had always been inevitable.
Something unshakable.
Something eternal.