The Victory claim (18+)

Arthur headed to the Academy dorms as evening shadows stretched across the courtyard.

He'd cleaned up and changed after the Trial, swapping his fancy battle gear for something nice but not too flashy. Only his royal ring showed his new status.

He was still buzzing from his victory, feeling how differently people treated him now.

Servants bowed lower, guards stood straighter, and courtiers who used to ignore him were suddenly falling over themselves to congratulate him.

But all that fake respect meant nothing compared to his real goal—picking up where he left off with Beatrice.

The girls' dorm was supposed to be off-limits to guys after sunset, but rules like that don't apply when you're the heir. The usual guard at the entrance was conveniently gone—thanks to Valentina keeping her promise to set things up for tonight.

Arthur climbed to the third floor where the advanced students lived. The hallway was quiet with most students either studying or at lectures. He walked confidently to Beatrice's private room at the end of the hall—a perk she got for being top student.

He knocked firmly, like someone who expected to be let in, not someone asking for permission.

"Who is it?" Beatrice called out, sounding annoyed.

"You know exactly who it is," Arthur replied quietly.

After a long silence, he heard footsteps approaching the door.

"Go away, Arthur. I'm not in the mood to celebrate your victory," she said through the door, sounding angry but also something else.

"Open the door, Beatrice," he said, adding a touch of his new Royal Authority power. "We have unfinished business."

Another pause, then the lock clicked. The door opened just enough to show Beatrice blocking the entrance.

She was wearing just a thin silk nightie that barely reached mid-thigh. The fabric was so fine he could see the outline of her body underneath.

Her hair was down instead of in her usual tight braid. She looked like someone who was getting ready for bed when he showed up.

"What do you want?" she asked coldly. "Shouldn't you be celebrating with the court?"

Arthur checked her emotions with his ability and saw that under her anger was strong desire, curiosity, and growing submission.

```

[Emotional Sensing: Active]

[Target: Beatrice]

[Emotions: Anger 65%, Desire 80%, Curiosity 95%, Submission 50% ↑]

[Energy Cost: -5]

[Energy Reserves: 175/300]

```

"I could be," he shrugged. "But I promised you training, and unlike some people, I keep my word."

Her expression changed. "A promise you already broke once."

"I had more important things to deal with," Arthur replied without apologizing. "Today's results should make that pretty clear."

After hesitating, she reluctantly stepped back to let him in.

The room was intimate—soft golden light from a single lamp, bookshelves on one wall, a desk with scrolls on another, and a large bed with turned-down sheets at the far end.

Arthur locked the door behind him with a deliberate click that made her eyes widen.

"We shouldn't be alone like this," she said, backing up. "If my brother—"

"Elliot works for me now," Arthur cut her off. "And right now, he's handling my business, on my orders."

Arthur moved closer, backing her against the wall by her desk. The lamplight showed her body through the thin nightie, revealing curves that her uniform usually hid.

"You left pretty quickly after the fight today," he said, getting close. "Most people stayed to congratulate me."

"I'm not most people," she replied defiantly. "And I don't appreciate you missing our training session, heir or not."

Arthur smiled and closed the distance, putting his hand on the wall beside her head, trapping her without touching her.

"You're right," he said, his voice dropping lower. "You're not most people. That's why I'm here instead of at the victory feast."

Up close, he could see her breathing getting faster and her pupils dilating despite the dim light. The flush on her cheeks was spreading down her neck toward her chest.

"What kind of training happens in my bedroom at night?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"The kind you really want," Arthur replied, bringing his face close to hers. "I've seen how you look at me.

You called me 'big brother' as an excuse to be close without admitting what you really wanted."

Her breath caught. "That's not—"

"Isn't it?" His hand tilted her face up. "Today you saw what I can do. Now you're wondering what else I might do to you."

She shivered but didn't pull away, caught between outrage and fascination.

"Your magical potential is exceptional," Arthur continued, his thumb tracing her jaw. "But your training's incomplete.

You've been taught to control yourself. What you need is someone who can teach you to let go."

His hand moved to her throat, feeling her racing pulse under his fingers.

"I came here for magical training," she whispered, even as she leaned toward his touch.

"And you'll get it," Arthur promised. "But there are different kinds of magic—the Academy kind, and the kind between a man and a woman."

His fingers traced her collarbone. "Your potential needs a more... hands-on approach."

Beatrice's breath hitched as his meaning became clear. For a moment, she seemed about to protest, but then something changed in her expression—her resistance crumbling under desire she'd denied too long.

"I don't understand what's happening," she admitted quietly. "When I saw you in the arena today, you seemed... different. Powerful in a way I've never felt before."

Arthur leaned in, whispering, "That's because I am different. And I can show you things the Academy never will."

His hand moved to her breast, cupping it through the thin silk. Her nipple hardened instantly against his palm as he squeezed gently.

Beatrice gasped, grabbing his shoulders—not pushing him away, but holding on like she couldn't stand on her own.

"This isn't—we shouldn't—" she stammered, but her body arched into his touch.

"Your mind says no, but your body says yes," Arthur observed, his thumb circling her nipple through the silk. "True magical mastery means getting your thoughts in line with what your body wants."

His free hand moved lower, gathering her nightie's hem and slowly lifting it. "Consider this your first real lesson."

Beatrice was barely resisting now. Her eyes closed as his hand slid under her nightie, tracing her bare thigh with light touches.

"My brother would kill you if he knew," she whispered, but without conviction.

"Your brother wasn't there for you today," Arthur reminded her, his hand moving up her inner thigh. "I am."

When his fingers reached between her legs, he found her already wet. He traced her slick folds slowly, enjoying her sharp intake of breath.

"This is what happens when you deny your true nature too long," he murmured, exploring her wetness. "All that repressed energy has to go somewhere."

"Arthur—" she gasped as one finger entered her, her inner walls gripping him tightly.

"You're so tight," he noted casually despite what they were doing. "Has anyone ever touched you like this before?"

She shook her head, biting her lip as he started a gentle rhythm with his finger.

"I thought not," he said, satisfied. "The Academy teaches control above all else, doesn't it? Even over your own pleasure."

He added a second finger, stretching her more, making her moan. Her hips started moving with his rhythm, wanting more.

"That's it," Arthur encouraged, curling his fingers to hit the spot that made her gasp. "This is the first step in your new training—learning to surrender control instead of fighting for it."

Beatrice's head fell back against the wall, breathing hard as his thumb found her clit, circling it in time with his thrusting fingers. The combination was too much for her inexperienced body—pleasure building faster than she could handle.

"I can't—it's too much—" she panted, her muscles squeezing his fingers rhythmically.

"Yes, you can," Arthur insisted, speeding up slightly. "Let go, Beatrice. Show me what you've been hiding under all that discipline."

Her whole body tensed, trembling on the edge of orgasm. Arthur could feel she was about to come. Just as she was about to tip over the edge, he deliberately slowed down, keeping her right on the brink.

"Arthur, please—" she begged, eyes flying open in confusion and desperation.

He met her gaze steadily, his fingers still moving but not giving her enough to finish. "This is just the introduction to our new training, little one. True mastery comes from patience."

Very slowly, he pulled his fingers out completely, leaving her gasping and unfulfilled. Her face showed shock, frustration, and dawning understanding—this was about power, not just pleasure.

Arthur brought his wet fingers to his mouth, maintaining eye contact as he slowly licked them clean. "Sweet," he commented, watching her eyes widen. "Just as I expected."

```

[Sexual Domination Progress: Beatrice 75% ↑]

[Energy Harvested: +45]

[Bond Progress: 60% → 80%]

[Energy Reserves: 220/300]

```

Beatrice slumped against the wall, chest heaving, nightie bunched around her hips. "Why did you stop?" she asked, sounding small and confused.

Arthur gently fixed her nightie, smoothing it back into place. "Because the first lesson is the most important—I decide when you get pleasure, and when it's withheld."

He stepped back, creating distance between them for the first time since entering. "We'll continue your training tomorrow night. Be ready."

"Tomorrow?" she echoed, still dazed. "But the Academy—"

"Your Academy schedule comes second to my needs now," Arthur stated firmly. "As heir, I need a personal magical consultant. That will be your new role—officially."

Understanding dawned in her eyes—he was creating a legitimate reason for them to spend time together, one even her protective brother couldn't question.

"I—yes, Your Highness," she responded, using his formal title for the first time.

Arthur smiled, pleased by this shift in their relationship. "Good girl. Lock the door after I leave."

As he turned to go, Beatrice called after him, her voice steadier than before. "Arthur—what happened to Gareth in the arena? Did you... did you do something to him?"

He paused at the door, looking back over his shoulder. "He did it to himself, Beatrice. Some men push too hard for power and break themselves in the process." He paused meaningfully. "Remember that during our lessons."

With that warning, he unlocked the door and slipped out into the dark hallway, leaving Beatrice staring after him—confused, aroused, and forever changed by their encounter.