Traitor. Would-be usurper. Coward.

The names they had for him were as dark as his jet-black scales, and yet even as he fled, the fierce dragon Flintthorn looked back on his pursuers with haughty arrogance. He gathered molten flame in his throat, preparing to attack if need be, but his only thought for now was escape. He would live.

Someday, he would return. And that day, their names for him would not be so dark. That day, they would call him king.

Digital illustration done in Photoshop.