The kingdom of Rubellum was a jewel-box of cold silver skies and blood-red banners. Asta hated it immediately.
They were there on diplomatic terms—representing the Clover Kingdom in a tense negotiation with a border noble house suspected of harboring sympathies for the Spade remnants. Asta didn't trust anyone in the palace. The smiles were too sharp, the wine too sweet, and the eyes lingered too long on Yuno.
Especially one pair.
Lady Sorella de Varn, heir to the Rubellum estate, was a vision of nobility: tall, elegant, eyes like violet knives. And from the moment they arrived, she'd been watching Yuno.
Flirting openly. Laughing too loud at his rare jokes. Touching his arm when she spoke.
Asta tried to ignore it. At first.
But by the time the formal banquet began, and Yuno was seated beside her at the royal table—wearing ceremonial robes, hair perfectly brushed, expression politely neutral—Asta couldn't keep pretending he didn't see it.
He watched as Lady Sorella leaned in close, fingers trailing across Yuno's wrist like a mark of ownership.
Yuno stiffened—but said nothing.
Because he was trying to be diplomatic.
Asta, however, had never been much for diplomacy.
He crossed the ballroom in three strides, ignoring the stares. He didn't stop until he was directly behind Yuno's chair, hands planted firmly on his shoulders.
Yuno looked up in surprise. "Asta—"
"Sorry to interrupt," Asta said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "But I'm afraid you're in my seat."
Lady Sorella raised a brow. "I wasn't aware your kingdom allowed commoners to make demands at royal tables."
Asta's grin sharpened. "They do when the 'commoner' is the one saving it from invasion every other week."
Yuno gave him a look—a silent question.
Asta squeezed his shoulder gently. I've got this.
Then he leaned down, lips brushing just behind Yuno's ear, voice a private, low murmur. "You look better in my arms than in her light."
Yuno's breath caught.
The noblewoman's lips parted in offense. "Excuse me?"
Asta didn't look at her. His eyes were only for Yuno.
"I'm not here to impress nobles," he said aloud. "I'm here because this man is mine. And I don't share."
Yuno stood slowly, composure crackling under the heat in Asta's voice.
He turned, eyes fierce but shining, and placed a hand over Asta's chest. "You didn't have to make a scene."
"I wasn't making a scene," Asta said. "I was making it clear."
Without waiting for permission, Asta pulled Yuno into a kiss—not rushed, not sweet, but undeniable. A kiss that left no room for misunderstanding. When they parted, Yuno was breathless.
And Sorella was speechless.
They left the ballroom in silence.
That night, their quarters were cold and quiet—spare military guest rooms with stone walls and rough blankets. But when the door shut behind them, Asta pinned Yuno to it with a strength that made Yuno exhale sharply.
"You didn't push her away," Asta said.
"I didn't want to cause a scene."
"You don't need to," Asta growled softly. "You just need to say something. Anything. And I'll shut the whole damn kingdom down for you."
Yuno gripped Asta's shirt, dragging him close until their chests touched. "You already did."
Asta kissed him again, rougher this time, hands gripping Yuno's waist like he was staking his claim.
When they finally broke apart, Yuno leaned his forehead to Asta's. "You don't need to be jealous."
"I'm not jealous," Asta said. "I'm protective. And territorial."
Yuno's lips curled. "Good."
They curled into the same bed that night—no words needed. Yuno rested his head on Asta's bare chest, fingers splayed across his stomach, steady and trusting.
For the first time since arriving, Asta slept soundly.