A Race To Kings (Hiccup x Reader)

Chapter 1

°▪︎○■□ Months Later □■○▪︎°

It was a busy bustling day at the western markets. A particular salesmen seemed all to eager to sell what he had.

"Come forth travels! I have a great haul for you today!" He carried a broad smile. "From weapons, to traps for our finest dragon hunters, and armor resistant to fire and its heat!"

A few in the crowd that came to investigate, smiled. Made comments to one another, eager for the sell.

"To the rarest breeds of dragons I could fine! Death grippers and my personal favorite, the feather wings! We even have some Razor Whips, Skrills, Triple Strykes, Stormcutters, Windgnashers, and Thunderclaws."

A cloaked figure who was walking by paused seeing the crowd growing at the mention of dragons. They looked back to other cloaked figures browsing around the area for various things. It was less than a moment did they notice the stare. Three..four..six..eight.. twelve cloaked figures emerged to investigate with the other figure.

"And that's not all my friends," the salesmen called over the crowd. "I also have to offer the finest workers! Men, bring them out."

Rows of chained and shackled people stood on the stages. Their eyes were low to ground. Murmurs broke threw the crowd. Slaves.

"Shall we begin the sell?"

The buyers all walked forward to investigate the various options, but none went near the slaves. Many had grown to know better, unlike the salesmen who tried selling them. Most slave sellers were killed, and buyers questioned. Although, that didn't stop the people from glancing to them, but even those stopped when they spotted someone walking over.

One of the cloaked figures weaved threw the crowd of people investigating the weapons and traps, and made there way to the chained people. Some had whimpered in response, others shaking harder than they had before, and a scares few who glared at the ground.

"Ah, to who woul-" the salesmen choked on his words when a blade met his throat.

The crowd had paused in their browsing to see the cloaked figure standing before the salesman gurgling on his blood. The cloaked figure withdrew his blade from the man's throat, and carefully cleaned the blood off as the body dropped. Several of the slaves had started to cry.

"Sickins me to see people sell people like were a piece of meat," the assailant muttered as he grabbed the keys from the corpse. "As if the human race couldn't fall any lower."

The salesmens men came running over and paused when the man removed his cloak. The slavers shrunk back from the conflict, fearing the worse would issue. Violence meant the person was angry, and when a person is angry, they got hurt.

"Now. I'm going to take these people, and the dragons. If anyone had any objections, take it up with my blade in Valhalla."

No one said a word to the male that had killed the salesmen without hesitation. Not ever the salesmen men had moved after seeing the man's face. A few other cloaked figures came from the crowd and helped in taking the dragons away. The mercilessly killer had taken hold of the chains holding all the people, and began to walk away. No one said a word as he walked off.

This was the third time this month he came and took what he wanted, and it wouldn't be the last. The only recurring thing anyone noticed was that he attacked anyone selling slavers. If they had dragons, he'd atleast pay for those. Granted, this is when he was in the market. Outside of the market, it could be anyone who meets the cold steel blade of his. He's violent history earned him the name, Ares the Bloodthirsty.