Prompt: Dragons do not yield. Dragons do not doubt. Dragons do not waver. Dragons do not hesitate. Dragons take what they want. Whenever they want. However they want. Noelle learns to embrace her new draconic nature. Asta learns what it means to be a prize.
—
The battlefield was silent. The war was over.
For what felt like the first time in years, the world was at peace. The sky had finally been cleared of Lucius's influence, and the chaos that had threatened to consume everything was gone. The surviving magic knights had gathered, some still tending to their wounds, others too exhausted to move. Relief and exhaustion hung in the air like a heavy mist.
Noelle stood amidst the ruins, gripping the spine of her grimoire so tightly her fingers ached. Her body was battered, bruises and cuts decorating her skin, but she barely felt them. Her heartbeat drowned out everything else, pounding so loudly in her ears that she almost swayed from the force of it. Because now… now there was nothing left standing between her and what she had been avoiding for so long.
Asta.
He was a few feet away, laughing despite the exhaustion weighing on his body. He looked just as beaten and bloodied as the rest of them, yet somehow, he still carried that unbreakable energy that was uniquely his. He was talking to Yuno, grinning that stupid, dorky grin of his, and Noelle felt her throat tighten. This was it. She had waited too long, let too many moments slip through her fingers, but now—now, with the battle over, with no more distractions—she had to tell him.
She had to tell him.
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She had been through hell and back, had fought gods, had survived the impossible. So why… why was this so hard?
Just go up to him. Say it. You've loved him for so long—just say it.
But the words wouldn't come. Her feet felt glued to the ground, her body refusing to move even as her soul screamed at her to act.
And then she heard it.
Mimosa's voice.
Noelle stiffened. She turned her head just slightly, her breath catching as she saw the vermillion-haired healer standing a short distance away, hands clasped over her chest, her expression nervous but determined. She was staring at Asta.
No.
The realization slammed into her like a physical blow.
Mimosa was going to confess.
Noelle's heart stopped. She barely even registered the sharp inhale she took, her fingers trembling at her sides.
No, no, no.
Not her. Not now.
She knew, deep down, that Mimosa had feelings for Asta. It wasn't exactly a secret. But until now, it had always been just that—a quiet, unspoken truth, something they both kept to themselves, dancing around it but never acting on it.
But Mimosa was going to act.
She was going to take the step Noelle had been too much of a coward to take.
Move. Move, damn it. Do something. If you just stand here, he's going to be hers. He's going to be—
Noelle felt her stomach churn violently, a nauseating sense of desperation twisting inside her. She had fought for this. She had stood by Asta's side, had been through everything with him. She had loved him for so long, and now—now she was going to lose him just because she couldn't find the courage to say the words?
Her body was shaking. Her chest felt tight, her breathing shallow. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. She had done everything—fought, bled, changed—all for him. And yet, in this one crucial moment, she was powerless.
Unless…
A low whisper curled around the edges of her mind, something deep and ancient stirring within her.
Do you truly desire him?
She stiffened.
The voice was familiar. Powerful.
Leviathan.
The ancient dragon had remained silent throughout the battle, offering its power when necessary but never interfering beyond that. Now, though, its presence wrapped around her like the tide, curling into her bones, settling deep within her chest.
You hesitate, it murmured, voice smooth and rich, brimming with an undeniable certainty.You are afraid. You believe this choice is not yours to make.
Noelle swallowed thickly.
It isn't, she thought, gripping her arms. I can't just—
Why not?
The voice rumbled through her, steady, unshakable.
You are my contractor. My chosen. You have inherited my power, my strength. A pause. Then, You are not human. You are above them.
Her breath caught.
Above…?
Dragons do not ask, Leviathan continued. We do not hesitate. We take what is ours. That is our nature. That is your nature now.
Noelle's pulse pounded violently against her skin.
No. That's not—I can't just—
Can't? The voice was almost amused. Who told you that? Who decided you must abide by human customs? Their rules? Their limits?
Her throat went dry.
You want him, Leviathan said simply. So take him.
The words slithered into her mind like a venomous promise, curling around her thoughts, sinking deep into her very core.
Take him.
No hesitation. No fear.
"Take…. Your…. Mate…. Noelle…" This time the Sea God spoke aloud, and…
Something inside Noelle snapped.
A wave of heat rushed through her veins, magic surging to life around her like an awakening storm. Her mana shifted, deepening, darkening, drenched in something ancient and insatiable.
Her fingers twitched. The fear, the doubt, the hesitation—it melted away, dissolving into something far greater, far stronger.
Desire.
Possession.
Greed.
She took a slow, deep breath, her entire body thrumming with newfound certainty.
She would not lose him.
Not to Mimosa. Not to anyone.
Because he was hers.
She turned her head slightly, catching a glimpse of Mimosa in her peripheral vision. The girl was still gathering her courage, hands clasped together, heart undoubtedly pounding in her chest.
Noelle's lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile.
She would not give Mimosa the chance.
She would not give anyone the chance.
Because as of this moment, Astabelonged to her.
And no one—not Mimosa, not the Black Bulls, not Asta himself—was going to change that.
Not now.
Not ever.
—
The change in Noelle was subtle at first. Or at least, that was how it felt to her.
She didn't immediately notice the way people reacted differently to her presence, how their gazes lingered a little longer, how conversations momentarily faltered when she entered a room. She was too consumed by the shift within herself, the deep, intoxicating certainty that had rooted itself inside her.
Asta was hers.
It wasn't just a thought. It wasn't even a belief. It was a fact, an undeniable, unshakable truth that sat within her chest like the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. The fear, the doubt, the hesitation that had plagued her before—it was gone. Burned away.
For the first time in her life, Noelle felt free.
And so she acted.
She didn't hesitate to pull Asta toward her when she wanted his attention. She didn't flinch when he looked at her, didn't feel the need to cover up her emotions with insults or tsundere outbursts. Instead, she met his gaze head-on, unwavering, her confidence absolute.
It was exhilarating.
But the reactions of those around her were… amusing.
She could see the way Mimosa looked at her now, confused, wary. As if she knew something was different but couldn't put it into words. The way the other Black Bulls stole glances at her when they thought she wasn't looking, as if sensing the shift but not quite understanding it.
Asta, however, was the most fun.
He noticed it—how could he not? She was no longer skirting around her feelings, no longer running away from the very thing she had fought against for so long. But Asta, sweet, dense, stubborn Asta, still had the audacity to act like nothing had changed.
That was fine.
He would learn.
Because a dragon does not ask.
A dragon takes.
And she was done waiting.
It was when they had all gathered at the Black Bulls' hideout, finally allowed to rest after everything that had happened, that Noelle saw the perfect opportunity.
Mimosa audaciously present here for some reason–like she belonged here, was hovering near Asta again.
Noelle had already taken care of the problem earlier by making sure Mimosa didn't get the chance to confess, but that didn't mean she was letting her guard down. The vermillion was still lingering too close, still looking at him with that hopeful, pathetic expression.
Noelle didn't think. She acted.
She stepped into Asta's space, closer than usual, closer than she ever would have dared before, her fingers curling around his wrist, her grip firm.
Asta blinked, startled. "Noelle?"
She smirked.
He really was dense.
"We need to talk," she said simply.
She saw the confusion flicker across his face, saw the way he turned his head slightly, glancing at Mimosa—as if she had anything to do with this—before looking back at Noelle.
"Uh, sure?" he said, still sounding unsure. "Right now?"
"Yes."
No hesitation. No room for argument.
And then, before he could say anything else, she pulled him with her.
There was a moment of stunned silence. Then—
"H-Hey, wait! Noelle—!"
Asta tried to resist, tried to dig his heels into the floor, but it didn't matter. His strength, his anti-magic, none of it could stop her when she had already decided.
Because he was hers.
She felt the stunned gazes of the others on her as she led Asta through the hideout, but she didn't care. She ignored the murmurs, the whispers of "What's going on?" and "Is Noelle okay?" because none of it mattered.
The only thing that mattered was him.
The moment they reached her room, she pushed the door open and dragged him inside.
And when the door slammed shut behind them, Asta finally looked at her—not just confused, but wary.
"Noelle," he said carefully, his voice almost uncertain. "What's going on?"
She took a slow, pronounced step toward him.
"You're mine," she said simply.
Asta froze.
Noelle smiled.
It was time he understood.
—
Asta stared at her, his mouth slightly open, his entire body frozen in place. It was rare to see him like this—so utterly stunned, so thoroughly caught off guard that he didn't even know how to react. Normally, he was so full of energy, so quick to respond with that boundless enthusiasm of his. But now? Now he was staring at her as if he had no idea who she was.
Noelle took another step toward him, slow and deliberate.
"You heard me," she said, voice calm, composed—so unlike the Noelle he was used to. "You're mine."
Asta blinked rapidly, finally seeming to snap out of whatever daze he had been trapped in. His brows furrowed, his head tilting slightly in confusion.
"W-Wait, Noelle, what are you talking about?" His nervous laugh was forced. "Did something happen? You're acting—"
"Different?" she finished for him, tilting her head.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his back pressing ever so slightly against the door.
Noelle smiled.
"I told you, Asta. I've made my decision." Her voice was steady, brimming with certainty. "And what I want—what I deserve—is you."
His eyes widened, his face burning with an unmistakable shade of red.
"Wha—?! Noelle, you can't just—!"
She moved faster than he could process, closing the space between them in an instant, her hand pressing flat against his chest. He tensed under her touch, muscles going rigid, breath hitching slightly at the sudden proximity.
"Can't?" she echoed, a quiet laugh slipping past her lips. "Asta, who told you that?"
His lips parted, but no words came out.
Because right then and there, he knew.
He knew she was stronger than him when it came to raw mana. Well anyone was but the point is, he knew she had been holding herself back all this time. He knew that she was as hardworking and determined as anyone she met. He knew that if she really wanted to, she could overwhelm him completely.
And she did want to.
Noelle wanted him the same way he wants to become Wizard King, and she'd do anything to accomplish that goal.
She pressed her palm against his chest a little more firmly, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. It was a wild, erratic rhythm, completely at odds with the way he tried to act so composed.
Asta never backed down from anything. He had fought a demon, devils, angels, a false messiah, and fate itself. But now, faced with her, he was hesitating.
Because for the first time, Noelle wasn't holding back.
A smirk tugged at her lips.
"Are you nervous, Asta?"
His jaw clenched.
"N-No!" His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his entire body taut like a coiled spring. "This—this isn't like you, Noelle! What's gotten into you?!"
Her fingers slid up, curling around the fabric of his shirt.
"Nothing," she whispered, leaning in just slightly. "This is me. The Noelle who isn't afraid anymore. The Noelle who knows what she wants."
His breath hitched again.
Noelle could see it—that flicker of panic in his eyes, that desperate attempt to cling to whatever thin shred of control he thought he had.
But she wasn't giving him a choice.
Asta might have been strong, but she was a dragon now. And dragons do not yield.
He tried to push back, his hands coming up to lightly grip her wrists—not to hurt her, not even to stop her, but as if he was trying to find some way to regain control of the situation.
It was cute.
"You're not thinking clearly," he muttered, his voice slightly strained. "Maybe we should just—"
"No," she interrupted, her voice sharp, unwavering.
He flinched slightly.
She never wanted to see that look in his eyes again—the one that doubted, the one that hesitated.
"I am thinking clearly," she continued, her voice softer this time. "For the first time in my life, I know exactly what I want. And I'm done pretending otherwise."
Asta exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip on her wrists tightening for a brief moment before he forced himself to let go.
"This isn't fair," he muttered.
Noelle chuckled, tilting her head.
"Fair?" she repeated. "Asta, do you think fate is fair? Do you think life is fair?" Her gaze darkened, the power within her thrumming just beneath her skin. "I've fought too hard for this. I've waited too long. I am not going to lose you to hesitation."
He stared at her, chest rising and falling rapidly, struggling with words that wouldn't come.
His resistance was crumbling.
She could feel it.
And it only made her more determined.
Dragons do not ask.
They take.
And she was taking him.
—
A Few Minutes Later…
The door slammed shut with a force that sent a ripple of unease through the Black Bulls gathered outside. Inside, the air was thick, charged, heavy with something inevitable.
Asta barely had time to process before he was shoved backward. His back hit the mattress, the impact softer than any battle wound he'd ever received, but somehow, it shook him more than any fight had. His breath caught.
Noelle was on him in an instant, her arms on either side of his head, silver hair cascading down around them like a shimmering cage.
He swallowed hard. How did it come to this?
Noelle's violet-blue vertical eyes burned into him, sharp with something victorious. Possessive. As if she had already won.
"You finally get it now, don't you?" she murmured, her voice laced with satisfaction.
Asta's throat was dry. He had faced uneven odds before. He lived a life where the fate's deck was always stacked against him and defied it. He managed to because deep down, however small, he could always see a way to climb the wall in front of him, or a light at the end of the tunnel waiting for him to reach it. But this—this was something else entirely.
"Noelle, I—"
Her gaze darkened, amusement flickering beneath her confidence. "Say it."
He blinked. "Say... what?"
Her fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him up slightly, closing the last inch between them. Her breath was warm against his lips, teasing, torturous. "That you're mine."
The words sent a violent shudder down his spine. Asta tensed, his instincts warring with something much deeper, much older. Something primal.
Something awakening a very strange emotion in him.
Outside, the Black Bulls and company stood in tense silence.
Mimosa had turned away, hands clenched at her sides. It… it can't be.
Nero folded her arms and sighed. I should've placed bets on this.
Finral, already halfway out the door, muttered to himself, "If Noelle actually kills him, I don't want to be anywhere near the crime scene."
Yuno, who had been recuperating here, stood firm, expression unreadable. "He's already dead. He just doesn't know it yet."
Liebe floating over his shoulder much to Bell's vexation, paid the wind spirit no heed and let out a long exhale. "That idiot walked straight into a dragon's den. Not even I can save him now."
Vanessa simply stood blankly. Is this still Noelle?
Inside, Asta's breathing was uneven. Noelle had barely touched him, but he felt caged, trapped—no, claimed.
"You're not saying it," she murmured.
Asta gritted his teeth, fingers curling into the sheets. "Because—because I don't lose!"
Noelle smirked. "Oh? Then why are you under me right now?"
He opened his mouth. Closed it.
Exactly.
The silence between them stretched, thick with anticipation.
Noelle leaned down, her nose brushing against his, her lips just barely out of reach. "Last chance, Asta."
His entire body was on fire. His heart pounded so loudly he was sure she could hear it.
And then, finally—
"...I'm yours."
The words left him in a breathless whisper, and the moment they did, Noelle's expression shifted. The smirk softened just a fraction. Not enough for most to notice. But Asta did.
The relief.
The satisfaction.
The pure, unshakable belief that this was exactly how things were always meant to be.
And then she claimed him.
Asta barely had time to inhale before she closed the distance completely. Her lips crushed against his fierce, demanding, dominant. It wasn't soft, wasn't hesitant. It was a declaration, a conquest.
Asta groaned against her mouth, his body going rigid beneath her before he melted, surrendering into it as her tongue pushed against his deeper into his throat. No way… she actually—
His mind short-circuited as she somehow deepened the kiss, even further, pressing him further into the mattress, her fingers gripping his shirt like she was making sure he stayed exactly where he was. Beneath her.
There was nothing else in the world at that moment. No magic, no battles, no war. Just her. Just this.
Asta gasped when her teeth grazed his bottom lip, a sharp nip that sent a shock down his spine. His fingers twitched at his sides before his instincts finally kicked in, and he grabbed onto her waist, anchoring himself before he completely lost his mind.
She pulled back, just barely, lips brushing against his as she murmured, "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Asta sucked in a breath, dazed, disoriented. What just happened?
Noelle studied his face, her smirk returning as she took in his flushed expression. His stunned silence was all the answer she needed.
"Good boy," she whispered, and that—that—was when Asta finally understood.
This was never a battle he was meant to win.
And then, the clothes came off.
Noelle no longer wasted time. She had waited too long, fought too hard, felt too much. There was no more patience left in her. Not tonight.
She took what belonged to her.
What the world owed her.
What Asta owed her.
Because this was his fault. All of it.
It was Asta, and only Asta, to blame for awakening something in her—a storm that had raged inside her chest for years.
Asta was to blame for making her breath hitch, her pulse stutter, her body tremble at just the sight of him.
He was to blame for the unbearable heat that consumed her every time he so much as glanced in her direction, the fire spreading across her skin faster than the infernos of Vultim's Volcano.
He was to blame for the countless nights she had spent tossing and turning, his stupid grin haunting her thoughts, his voice echoing in her ears.
He was to blame for occupying her mind in the worst of times—the absolute worst—moments where she should have been focused, where the difference between life and death was a single misstep.
But instead of battle strategies, instead of magical calculations, all she could think about was him. His laugh, his strength, his unwavering belief in her even when she had none in herself.
A lowly, magicless peasant from the sticks had done the impossible. He had broken past the unshakable pride of the House of Silva. He had awakened something in her that no noble, no royal, no one ever could.
Feelings she could never control.
Feelings she was never allowed to act on.
Because she was Noelle Silva, a princess of Clover Kingdom, a woman bound by duty, by status, by the unyielding expectations of bloodline and tradition.
And yet—this reckless fool, this audacious peasant had dared to take hold of her heart without permission. Without regard for what it meant.
And now, he had to pay his debt.
Because Noelle had ascended.
She was no longer shackled by the fragile morals of mere mortals. She had become something more. Something greater. A force beyond human limitations, beyond hesitation, beyond fear.
And he—this boy, this warrior, this man—was hers.
The claim was sealed before he could even comprehend the magnitude of it.
Asta gasped beneath her, hands fisting into the sheets, his body arching involuntarily as heat consumed him.
His voice, strained and breathless, was like music to her ears.
And soon, his moans rang out, echoing through the Black Bulls' base.
A declaration.
A surrender.
A victory.
And Noelle smirked, knowing that at long last—
She had won.
Outside his bedroom door, the reactions were immediate.
Mimosa staggered backward, shaking her head. "No… No!"
Nero, unfazed, gave a slow nod. "Guess she finally got what she wanted."
Finral visibly shuddered. "That poor, poor soul..."
Yuno let out a short exhale. "Hmph. Rest in peace, Asta."
Liebe crossed his arms, watching the closed door with something between pity and grudging respect. "May the gods have mercy on your soul, Brother."
The two shared a firm handshake, a silent agreement that Asta's life, as they knew it, was over.
No one commented on how incredibly strange it was for a devil to pray to the gods.
Back inside, Asta let out a long, unsteady breath.
Noelle, equally nude, still straddling him, tilted her head. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
He let out a weak chuckle. "More like… a dragon."
She smirked. "Damn right."
Asta exhaled, his entire body thrumming with something he couldn't quite name. But one thing was clear.
Noelle had won.
And he didn't mind one bit.
For the first time in Asta's life he accepted his defeat, his loss, and rather liked it.