Danger || Narry AU ✔

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

You guys are incredible at commenting already!

Dedication to: @Nerdy_But_Cute, @SmilingNiallxxx, @smiley_miley_, & @obsessedwith5boys (because glasses is such a close third that I just couldn’t not give it to you.)

Enjoy!

~Harry~

Today was the day. To say I was slightly excited wouldn’t be a lie; I was going after the biggest rider alive today. He was their leader, like a king, and the second I took him down, everything else was bound to follow. With no leader, there’s no chance of making it. Riders all over England will be running around like chickens with their heads cut off: completely and utterly helpless. They wouldn’t have anyone to turn to, no one to make rules, to solve the problems, and no one to tell them how to hide.

One by one the clans will fall, one by one they’ll come out of hiding and one by one they’ll become normal citizens that don’t ride dragons and wreak havoc. Then everything will be as it should be, normal.

I slung the bag over my shoulder and slid on my boots, the early rays of the sun shining through the window alerting me that it was time to go. It was a day journey, traveling northwest to get to the town that ‘Greg’ lived in.

I needed information, and a location, and so far Greg was the only one I know that would be able to give me that. And if he didn’t give it willingly, well, let’s just say I have many ways to be persuasive- violence probably being the most effective. I couldn’t really lie about that.

I stepped outside, closing the door tightly behind me. I made my way over to the stables before groaning in frustration. I forgot I couldn’t use Stallion, my horse, because he was hurt. Damn dragon almost ripped off his leg, thankfully it was just a severe cut and nothing worse. I stopped by the stables anyways, grabbing a bucket of oats from the corner and bringing it over to where he was laying.

“Here boy. I’ll be back soon.” I muttered, placing the bucket in front of him and pet his mane. Stallion went to go eat, ignoring me with a sort of fond indifference while the food was in front of him. I laughed, giving him one last gently pat before turning and making my way out of the stables.

I sighed, fixing the bag on my shoulder before making my way away from my town and my home again. I was ready to be done with this already, but I couldn’t deny the innumerable excitement that this task has given me. Sure, at first I really couldn’t care less, but this man has avoided dozens of Slayers, some of the best in the game. Of course, it wasn’t me, but they were still a little better than decent. The king doesn’t take lightly to failure, meaning a lot of Slayers have been executed due to this hippie. And if he thought my name was going to be added to that list then he was damn wrong.

Then again, maybe that has been his plan since the start: have the king kill off his enemies without even having to lift a finger. He then has no blood on his hands and he looks like a saint- in a war without a drop of blood on his hands.

There have been rumors, of a fearless dragon riding leader, that’s slain many. That nothing scares him. So maybe he does have blood on his hands, but he would hardly make me shiver in fear if ever I saw him. Stories and reality are two different things, and maybe before I kill him, I’ll get him to help me distinguish between lies and reality.

The only memory of him that will live on will be that of him begging for mercy at the tip of my sword, the only stories told of him would be of his extreme cowardice and the stupidity of the riders to make him their leader. It really would be quite the spectacular tale, and I’d be able to tell my children and grandchildren the exact one. How I heroically did what no other man could do: slay the evil dragon rider trying to rule over the whole of England. And they would look up at me with the utmost awe gleaming in their cute little green eyes; mouths open in a circle in shock. And then, when that story was finished, they would ask for it again because the monster was slain by me, and they would be in awe, glad that they could brag to their little friends that their father or grandfather was a hero.