All Conner Bailey wants is to kill a dragon. And get a girlfriend. Preferably Bree Campbell.
But he's just a poor little craftsman, trying to find his place in a world of killing and fighting when he can't kill and fight at all. Eh, at least somebod...
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A/N: I deliberately made Conner's behaviour a bit childish and immature. In addition, he's also more attention seeking than usual because he tends to be ignored in this AU (a nod to Hiccup initially being the outcast at Berk). So yes, he may be OOC. This applies to the entire fic.
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Conner ambled through the village of Laftor, clutching something in his hands. He did not appear to be in a hurry, nor did he appear to have the intention to test something. Despite that, the villagers still looked at him with apprehension. They'd seen too much of Conner Bailey's screw-ups and was automatically on guard every time the boy stepped into their view. Conner was used to their strange glances, and hummed cheerfully to distract himself.
He'd finally finished repairing Bree's whip. He was now making his way to the Arena, where the other teenagers trained on a daily basis. Even though he was sweaty and exhausted, he still wanted to give the whip to Bree in person.
The Arena loomed in front of him. Conner could hear excited screams and Goldilocks' commanding hollers even from a distance. How much did he long to join his peers in their training! The Arena was an open-air circular structure made out of stone, and the top of it was covered by a mesh net complete with spikes. That was to prevent the dragons from escaping. The dragons were usually kept under lock and key, but would be let out for dragon training.
He spotted two familiar figures cheering at some commotion below. Conner squinted and saw Rook and Arthur dueling each other, while Alex and Bree watched. Good. Bree wasn't training right now.
"Good afternoon!" he greeted the girls. They spun to look at him briefly before returning to the fight. Conner supposed the duel was mildly interesting. Just mildly.
"It seems like Arthur's going to win!" Alex exclaimed heatedly. Conner carelessly glanced down at the fighting duo. Arthur was swinging his sword and Rook was attempting to parry the attack with a shield.
"Well, Arthur is talented at swordfighting," Bree replied logically (Conner was somewhat glad she wasn't getting all fangirly over Arthur). "I'm sure he would lose if only daggers were allowed."
As if one cue, Rook stumbled and fell, brown hair flopping over his face. Just as he was about to hit the dusty ground, Arthur stretched out a hand and grabbed Rook's arm to steady him.
"Good game," Arthur said jovially, voice echoing through the otherwise empty arena. "Your reflexes are improving."
Rook was panting, his face red with exertion. Conner saw him not-so-subtly sneak a look at the audience. Doubtless he was searching for Alex's reaction. Conner did not want any involvement in the gross love triangle that concerned his sister.
