Reborn as a Succubus: Time To Live My Best Life!

{Armia}

The training dummy shattered under Armia's fist, wooden splinters flying everywhere. She'd already gone through three of them today, but couldn't bring herself to care.

[Getting stronger. Have to keep getting stronger.]

Melisa's words from a year ago echoed in her mind. She didn't need to try to be something she wasn't. She didn't need to handicap herself to prove a point.

She'd spent so long trying to be delicate, proper, refined. Trying to fit into dresses made for human nobles, attempting to master the dainty movements expected of a lady. She wasn't about to throw away those dresses, she liked them after all, but now, here she was, embracing her darian heritage in a way that would've scandalized her younger self.

Another dummy. Another punch. More splinters.

"Perhaps you should take a break?" The training instructor called from a safe distance. "That's the fourth one today..."

Armia ignored him. Her scales gleamed with sweat as she moved to the next exercise, lifting weights that would've challenged three regular men. Her muscles burned pleasantly with each rep.

[I can be both. Strong AND refined. Just need to find the right balance.]

She'd caught glimpses of Melisa throughout the day, always with Isabella squirming in her lap, always surrounded by whispers and stares. The sight had gotten Armia's blood pumping in more ways than one.

[Focus. You're in public and these training shorts don't hide much.]

But her cock had other ideas, especially when she remembered walking past their classroom and seeing Isabella grinding subtly against Melisa while pretending to pay attention to the lecture.

The way some students looked at her friend made Armia's blood boil in a completely different way, though.

[Let them try something. Please. I could use the practice.]

The sun was setting by the time she finished her workout. Her muscles ached pleasantly as she made her way home, her tail swishing behind her with each step. She'd have to take care of certain... tensions later.

The streets were quieter than usual. People hurried past, heads down, clearly still spooked by yesterday's events. A few gave her suspicious looks - being half-dragon didn't exactly help with the current anti-non-human sentiment.

[Wonder what Mother would say about all this. She always did warn me about getting too close to human politics.]

As she approached her house, voices drifted through an open window. Her father's deep rumble, and another voice - crisp, official, distinctly palace-trained.

Armia's tail stilled.

[That can't be good.]

She hesitated at her own front door, hand hovering over the handle. Whatever was happening in there would change things. She could feel it.

[Well. Only one way to find out.]

Taking a deep breath, Armia stepped inside.

---

The living room felt smaller than usual with the palace official sitting in it. He was a thin man with perfectly styled hair and clothes that probably cost more than most families made in a month.

His eyes kept darting to Armia, like she was suddenly going to start breathing fire or something.

[At least he's not trying to hide what he thinks of me. That said... Why is he here?] Armia sighed. [That bad feeling is only getting bigger.]

"Please, sit," her father gestured. His tail was perfectly still - never a good sign. The last time Armia had seen him this tense was, well...

[After Darien died.]

Armia folded herself into a chair, trying not to look as awkward as she felt. Her training clothes were still damp with sweat, and she probably smelled like the gym. The chair creaked ominously under her weight.

[Of course they'd send someone while I'm like this.]

"Now then," the man said, producing a stack of papers from his briefcase with all the ceremony of someone handling sacred texts. "I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here."

He launched into what was clearly a rehearsed speech about duty, loyalty, and service to the crown. Armia caught her father's eye. He looked as confused as she felt, though his expression remained perfectly neutral.

"As you know," the official droned, hands clasped primly in front of him, "the sacred duty of every citizen of Syux is to ensure the continued prosperity and security of our great nation. In these trying times, with the regrettable incidents involving certain... elements of our society, it becomes incumbent upon those of privileged position to demonstrate their unwavering loyalty through acts of service that might, under different circumstances, be considered... shall we say, optional."

[Is he getting paid by the pause?]

"Furthermore," he continued, seemingly warming to his topic, "given the current political climate and the ongoing situation with Rhaya, Her Majesty feels that individuals of particular... physical gifts... might best serve the crown in a more martial capacity."

"Get to the point," her father rumbled finally.

The official coughed delicately, adjusting his collar.

"Yes, well... Given recent events, Her Majesty feels it would be... prudent for certain members of our community to demonstrate their loyalty more... tangibly."

[Oh. OH.]

"You mean darians," Armia said flatly. Her tail curled around her ankle - an old nervous habit she thought she'd broken.

"Well, technically-"

"You want me to prove I'm not a threat." The words tasted bitter in her mouth. "Because some nim attacked the academy."

The official's smile didn't waver. If anything, it grew more practiced.

"The crown is offering select individuals the opportunity to serve in a military capacity-"

"You mean you're drafting my daughter," her father's voice could have frozen fire. The temperature in the room actually dropped several degrees.

"Not drafting, exactly." More papers appeared, each one probably spelling out exactly how not-optional this all was. "Simply... strongly encouraging patriotic service."

Armia stared at the documents, remembering Melisa's words about using her natural gifts. About embracing who she was instead of trying to be something else.

[Bet this isn't what she had in mind when she told me to use my strength.]

The official was still talking, something about "temporary measures" and "ensuring public safety." But all Armia could think about was how quickly things were changing. Yesterday she'd been training to get stronger for herself.

Now she was being "strongly encouraged" to use that strength for the crown.