Dragon's spirit

Corvan watched as the king stood from his throne, unable to act freely thanks to the guards over looking him. He had come to challenge the king for that very throne, but he could not strike as long as there were two heavily armed and protected warriors standing on each side of him. The king looked down on him, the look in his eyes clearly saying that he found Corvan's challenge amusing, rather than intimidating. That only made Corvan's scowl grow heavier.

"You come to challenge me, the king, with not but a bow and a single arrow as your weapon?" The mockery in the king's voice was thick, but Corvan knew better than to speak up now. Let the king have his moment of superiority. It would not last long. "Do you know how much work and pain goes into being a king, son? How many conflicts I sit and agonize over in a single day? How every single tiny action I make affects the lives of thousands of people under my rule? Do you really think that, even if you could defeat me with your puny arsenal, you would have the fortitude to take this position? I would like to see you try."

"Then is that an acceptance of my challenge?" Corvan's voice was controlled, flat, withholding the anger that he felt in his breast to the best of his ability. He remained on his one knee as he had been commanded, but he did not bow his head. He looked the king directly in the eyes as he spoke. He would not show weakness. Respect, yes. But not conformity. Not weakness.

The king looked back at him, eyeing him up and taking in his stature for the first time. "Yes," he said after a pause. "Yes, I do." Almost immediately, a servant approached with the king's sword and shield, which he took and equipped, slipping the shield onto his right arm, and flicking the sheath off his blade in the left.

Corvan stood as the guards withdrew, pulling his bow from his back and taking his arrow between his fingers, ready for knocking. He watched the king prepare as he slipped the sleeve off of his right arm, revealing a long and winding dragoon tattoo that extended from his chest and down to his fingers. The king smiled coyly when he saw it. "Is this your battle armor?" he asked mockingly. "To reveal your skin and make you easier to cut?"

Corvan knocked his arrow and drew back, arrow aimed directly at the king's heart. The king smiled and raised his shield to protect himself, but Corvan's aim did not change. "I call upon the dragon's spirit." The words were out of his mouth, and his tattoo burned like fire, a bright blue flame on his arm rising up and engulfing his arrow before it shot forth, sticking in the king's shield. He could see the king's eyes light up in fear for the first time for a moment before he realized that the arrow had still stuck in his shield. He went to drop his shield and mock once more.

And then the dragon's spirit was there before him, and collapsed over him.