Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.
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A/N: Warning, Conner is slightly OOC. That's because I basically merged him with HTTYD 1 Hiccup, and made him a tad emo.
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The attack that night was the worst on Laftor in a couple of months.
(People liked to say that it could be worse if Conner Bailey was let loose in the village.)
The village was constantly destroyed and repaired and torn down and built up again. According to the Elder, who was Conner and Alex's grandmother, it had been like that ever since she was born. An endless cycle of creation and destruction.
Early morning light shone through the windows. Conner was snoring, limbs sticking out randomly from his blanket. His room was a total mess of sheets of paper and stray books.
BRIIIIING!
Conner grunted and slammed a hand on the object on his bedside table. It was a curious mismatch of cogs and bells. Froggy called it the “alarm”. Conner's mother, Charlotte, had complained about her son's reluctance to get out of bed, and commissioned Froggy to craft something that could wake him up. Now its shrill bells invaded Conner's ears every morning.
“I'm up,” Conner mumbled to no one in particular. “I'm up.”
He stumbled out of the room, avoiding the chaos on the floor, and went down the stairs. Charlotte was out for some “chieftess duties”, and Alex was still asleep. She deserved some rest after her exhausting night.
If there was one other thing Conner was good at, it was cooking. Granted, he nearly burnt down the kitchen on his first try, but he'd done pretty good despite his rocky start.
He hummed to himself as he fried two eggs. He grabbed a handful of herbs and sprinkled them on the eggs. Then, he laid the eggs on two pieces of sliced bread he'd brought home yesterday.
“One for me, one for Alex.” Conner took the plates to the living room, and plopped down on the leather couch. He raised the bread to his mouth and began to chomp with gusto.
Footsteps sounded on the staircase. A sleepy Alex shuffled down, her white nightdress reaching her ankles. “Morning, Conner,” she greeted.
“M'ning,” Conner said in return, his voice muffled by the bread in his mouth.
“Don't speak with a full mouth,” Alex reminded him. Conner sighed internally. Alex was always like a second mom to him.
Alex reached for a plate. “Thanks for the breakfast, though. You've always had some talent with seasoning.”
Yeah, like what good is there in that. Making food taste better doesn't help with killing dragons. Conner's inner voice liked to sass himself.
Conner quickly swallowed his breakfast and grabbed his satchel. “I'm going to the workshop. We have a lot to do.”
“Alright, have a good day! I'll wash the dishes.”
The moment Conner stepped out of the door, his face was assaulted with flying flakes of ash. He coughed and frantically brushed them away.
The air was still hazy from yesterday's mass burning of wood. Buildings creaked, and fallen debris was yet to be cleared. Shards of wood and pieces of metal littered the ground. Broken planks stuck out haphazardly. Their great village was once again reduced to ruins. Men and women alike were moving a gigantic fallen beam that blocked one of the main roads. Conner wished he had the strength to help them.
Conner scurried across the village to the workshop. Fortunately, the workshop wasn't destroyed. It would cause a great deal of trouble if the main place for repairing weapons was out of service.
“Dude!”
Conner beamed upon hearing that familiar voice. “Freddie!”
Fred was one of the other craftsmen at the workshop. Being four years Conner's senior, he was technically an adult and worked full-time at the workshop. Unlike Conner, Fred also participated in fighting against the dragons when there were attacks. And he became muscular after the blood, sweat, tears he had poured into crafting weapons (Conner was still rather skinny). Fred was one of Conner's friends and they became close after the years they had spent crafting together.
“Good morning to both of you,” Froggy greeted politely as he strolled inside. “Sorry, I was a bit late…”
Fred smiled knowingly. “Your fiancée kept you?”
Everybody knew Froggy was engaged to Red. They were busily preparing for the wedding, and according to Froggy, Red was very picky about everything from the exact shade of colour of the chairs to the sort of icing on their wedding cake.
“Something like that. Now,” Froggy rubbed his hands together. “Let's get down to business-”
“To defeat the dragons,” Conner mumbled under his breath automatically.
Froggy looked at him. “I actually meant to repair the weapons but whatever floats your boat…”
Conner went to his work table, and slowly turned Bree's broken whip over. He observed the damage, then put on thick gloves and attempted to yank the Grisly Glass spike out. It didn't budge an inch. Conner gritted his teeth and pulled harder.
“Gotta be careful with Glasses,” Fred commented loudly over the din of him hammering on a sword. “Their venom can kill an adult male in a minute.”
“I think it's dried, though.” Conner panted and peered the dried white liquid on the tip of the spike. “Heeeey, this spike is pretty sharp, do you think we can use it as a tool?”
Fred chuckled. “Maybe we can if you manage to get it out.”
Conner was still huffing and puffing, gloved hands clenched around the base of the spike.
“Come on dude, where's your muscle?” Fred teased.
With one final grunt, the spike came out, and Conner nearly fell down from the force of it. He awkwardly walked to a basin of cool water and washed the venom off. The result was an icy blue, translucent spike that glittered attractively in the workshop's firelight. It would be so pretty if it wasn't so deadly…
Conner put down the spike, and returned to inspecting the whip. He needed to create a few more iron spikes. Which meant Conner was going to spend hours by sweltering furnace in unbearable heat.
But for Bree, it was worth it.
***
The lunch break came. Froggy, Fred and Conner were all dirty and sweaty from their hard work.
Fred lightly punched Conner in the arm. “Dude, you stink.”
Conner winced exaggeratedly to show his disgust. “You stink even more, Freddie.”
Fred picked up a bucket of clean water and poured it over Conner. Conner grabbed another bucket and splashed it over Fred. It was their way of quickly washing up before lunch.
“Charlie!”
A sharp female voice invaded the workshop. Conner and Fred groaned simultaneously. They knew what was about to happen.
A young woman with elaborate braids and intricate crimson dress barged into the workshop. She sniffed the air and her face scrunched in displeasure, but her expression quickly turned sunny when she saw her fiancé.
“Charlie! Let's leave the peasants and discuss what flowers we'll use for the wedding decorations!” the woman sung cheerfully.
“Sure thing, Red,” Charlie replied good-naturedly. As Red practically dragged him away, both Conner and Fred saw the look in his eyes- one that screamed “take care of the workshop as I probably won't be back until half a decade later”.
“Umm, bye?” Conner waved as the couple bustled out of the door.
"We gotta go too. I'm staaaarving." Fred drawled out the last word.
They ambled of the workshop and joined the masses of people on the streets. As they walked, Conner's eyes skimmed over the familiar places. The ominous arena with spike-studded nets. The healer's hut, adorned with growing pots of herbs. That was where the Elder lived. Conner caught a whiff of the salty sea air and knew they'd reached the port, with boats idly bobbling along the water.
The duo then followed the cobblestone path to the Great Hall, a giant majestic structure that served as their communal hall. Humongous statues of their ancestors flanked the door. The inside was lit with blue candlelight, a special type of magic fire (one of Alex's creations) that gave out light but never burned skin.
"Yo, Freddie!"
Conner spun to see Fred's grown up friends calling for him. Conner always wondered if Fred felt awkward being seen with his dumb, fifteen-year-old colleague (of sorts). After Fred bounded away, a solidarity Conner went up to his usual bench. He grabbed a plate of mutton and some potatoes, and slid quietly to his seat on the edge of the bench.
Conner sat with his peers almost every day. He tried to include himself in their conversations and they let him, but they usually talked about training and Conner couldn't relate to that. Today, Arthur and Bree were chatting about new moves, while Rook was glaring at Arthur. Trollbella was wolfing down her food at record speed. Alex was absent, but Conner was sure she would appear sooner or later.
"Hey," Conner greeted the teenagers.
"Hey," Rook and Trollbella replied half-heartedly, with Rook distracted by Arthur and Trollbella by her food. Arthur made no reply but Bree gave Conner a little wave.
"I'm fixing up your whip," Conner informed Bree. "Making decent progress so far."
"Good to hear. Training's not the same without my whip." Bree casually swept away a strand of blonde hair in front of her face, and somehow that little action made Conner's brain short circuit.
Alex then entered the Great Hall, and Conner watched as Rook and Arthur's eyes lit up. He audibly groaned and pretended to gag. Bree put her hand to her mouth to conceal her giggles. Conner knew both Rook and Arthur had big crushes on Alex. If Conner had his way, he would've pummeled them to a pathetic mash. Unfortunately, he was about as powerful as a slug when it came to combat. Which was to say, not powerful at all.
Alex seemed to have taken more interest in Arthur. "The Double As", Bree had called them. It wasn't a surprise, as Arthur was the best in dragon fighting among their little group, and Alex had magic on her side. They were the aces, the shining gems of their village, and Rook was just a farmer's son. Conner felt a little bad for Rook (just a little though). At least Rook wasn't some random craftsman with a knack for spicing food, of all things.
"Good afternoon," Alex said to the gang, but everyone could see that her eyes were focused on Arthur only. She sat down beside Arthur, instead of Conner like she used to do. Conner scowled and stabbed his mutton with venom. After this boy had decided to screw with his sister's heart, Alex sat less with Conner and more with Arthur during mealtimes. Conner was irritated, as he knew he would never, never dump Alex for Bree. And he was the one with the childhood crush!
As the teenagers shifted to accommodate Alex, Conner suddenly found that Bree was in fact, sitting next to him.
Oh gods.
Conner stared hard at his food, desperately trying to ignore the goddess next to him. Sweat was gushing out of his sticky palms and boy, he probably stank a lot, and he was still in his ugly, shabby uniform-
"Y'know, I took your suggestion to squeeze lemon juice on fish."
Conner whipped his head. "What?"
Bree calmly put down one half of a squeezed lemon. Conner could see the translucent lemon juice on top of her salmon. Then Bree took her fork and dug into her meal. "Tastes good." She gave Conner a grin.
Conner's eyebrow twitched. "Yeah, tastes good," he repeated absentmindedly.
"Maybe you should become a chef," Bree idly remarked.
Conner snorted. "Huh, then who'll fix your beloved whips?"
"Fair point. But honestly, you have a second sense for food." Bree wrinkled her nose. "More like a second taste, I shall say."
There was a brief pause, the only sounds being the hustle and bustle of people next to them and the munching of food.
“By the way, how’s your new contraption going?” Bree asked and tossed her dangling blonde braid behind her.
“Umm. Which one?” Conner asked in all honesty. He had too many ideas bursting from his brain at the same time, and ended up ditching most ideas after spending like an hour working on them. His focus leapt from here to there like an overexcited rabbit. For those few ideas who survived Conner’s ever changing mind, Conner attended to them alternatively, sometimes staying up all night to work on one project, sometimes letting the blueprints lay in the dust for several weeks. Conner’s inspiration was vastly unpredictable, and sometimes even he himself couldn’t keep track of his ideas.
“That catapult thing to shoot down the Flare,” Bree said as if it was obvious. “You’ve been working on it for months.”
Thankfully for Conner, Bree, with her clear mind, was always there to remind Conner.
“Oh.” Conner moaned and banged his head on the table repeatedly. “That catapult is ridiculously stubborn; it just can’t work the way I want it to! I’ve given it range, but the accuracy and speed is terrible. And the net it shoots out just gets tangled up halfway and-”
Bree patiently listened to Conner ramble about his unfortunate catapult. Unknownst to Conner, she rather enjoyed seeing his animated hand gestures he did whenever he shared his creations. It felt like Conner became an entirely different person whenever he could talk about something he loved. You could see he poured his passion into crafting. Something had sparked that fire inside him and it ignited his entire body. His eyes became bright stars that rivaled the glow of the Flare.
Too bad no one else really saw that side of him.
“Perhaps you need some time to clear your mind,” Bree suggested after Conner had finished his spiel.
Conner sighed, dejected. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. You wanna come to the workshop and help me figure some things out?”
Bree pursed her lips and drummed her fingers on the table. “Sorry, my schedule’s packed today. I have training, then I need to cook for all three of my sisters. I would love to come, though."
Conner tried not to show his disappointment, but his sagging shoulders gave him away. “It’s alright, I understand.”
Bree had picked up Conner’s true feelings. She frowned and was about to reply, when Goldilocks invaded the hall, banging open the doors with unnecessary force. “Get your asses up! It's time to move!" she hollered at the teenagers. Most of them hastily scrambled to their feet and shoved their food away.
Goldilocks was the teenagers’ trainer when it came to dragon fighting. She was a nice person, but rather ruthless and demanding. Not even Bree dared to oppose her. And Bree did a lot of risky things, including sneaking into Conner’s room one night (it wasn't what it sounded like!) and jumping off a cliff into the sea.
Conner could only watch as Bree and the other teenagers rapidly piled their plates and hurried away, leaving Conner behind.
Conner raised his hand to wave, but froze midway when he realized no one was looking in his direction.
"Bye, I guess?" Conner's words echoed in the open air.
The teenagers pushed open the doors and let in a small beam of mellow light, opening a window to the bright sky. Then they thudded shut, leaving Conner alone in the dimly lit, blue tinted Great Hall.
Silence.
Conner lowered his head, suddenly feeling very small in the vast space. He moodily used his fork to scratch on his plate.
Why can't I be like them? Why can't I train with them? Why do I have to be so useless?
His cold fingers gripped his fork. He knew he was trying to make everyone see he could be of some use too, but so far, he was failing miserably. Most of the public didn't care for his creations. They thought he couldn't be anything if he couldn't handle a single weapon.
Wait.
Conner's eyes flashed liquid blue.
What if he made a weapon he could handle? What if he crafted something that was suited to his needs? Conner had the experience and materials. He even had Bree and Fred and Froggy to help him.
The catapult.
He could make it.
He could fix it and change it and improve it until he could operate it, then use it to shoot down a Flare and bathe in all the glory.
Conner's body trembled with excitement and anticipation. He was looking so forward, he nearly forgot the many problems his catapult was facing. He slammed his plate down, the bang attracting the looks of many others. But he didn't care.
Yes, that was what he wanted to do.
He would prove them all wrong.
Conner strode to the doors and confidently flung them open. Then, he stepped into the daylight and out to the world.
***
A/N: Wow, this got depressing real quick. Eh. I feel sort of weird writing such a sad Conner though. At least he cheered up at the end! :D
I've written a second chapter, and I still have NO idea what is going on. I'm freewriting. Don't ask me what'll happen, because I'm just going to let this immersive universe carry me away. I feel like it has a lot of potential but I don't have enough energy on my hands to fully develop it.
(Random fact: I'm writing this using THE Comic Sans, because apparently it helps?)
Thanks for all of your comments!! I really enjoyed reading them lol :P
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