#fandom building

Back on the Little Saltee, Conor fell into the habit of practically attaching himself to any sort of warmth or comfort he could find. Huddling up to the little hole in the wall to savor the tiny amount of sun that occasionally break through, sometimes he would even stick a small diamond in there to collect a tiny amount of heat so he could press it to his face. Conversing with the friendliest guards he could find. Using bits of hair and string he found to patch up his clothing and blankets. Sleeping on top of his clothing so it would be warm in the morning. Even asking for some guards to tap the ends of their cigars into his hands so he could cradle the hot ashes for a moment. Filing a seashell into a comb to brush the snarls out of his hair. Once he even gave a guard one of his diamonds to heat his slop before it was delivered, unfortunately it was only slightly warm by the time it arrived in the lunatic wing, but it had still been a lovely birthday present.

But the day that had been the warmest during his entire stay on the Little Saltee, was the day he took the ink.

The Rams had a small area dedicated to their meetings and initiations in a hollowed out part of the mine that required swimming under a stone passage to access, Conor nearly inquired about the amount of oxygen in the space, but he was answered by the sight of several cracks in the rock that a slight breeze wormed through.

As he sat in a circle of a dozen of the burly men that made up the Battering Rams, Conor gently held his folded shirt, looking wearily at Otto Malarkey for any sort of reassurance The tattoo artist was an older man, but wether he was 40 or 60, Conor could not tell. The man moved with slow and intentional grace, prepping the homemade ink and sharpening the needles on a coarse stone. Conor watched this process with great interest, completely fascinated by each step. After the tattooist finished cleaning the needles with the flame of a small candle he pushed the back end into to a smoothed and polished stick. “Stay still boy.” The artist grunted around his freshly lit cigar, thick, fragrant smoke filling the little cave as he loaded the needle with ink.

Poor Conor, he really did make an excellent effort, but as the first tap against the stick forced the needle under his skin, Conor tensed his arm and flinched further into the needle. A short cry came from the boy as the sharp object jammed into the delicate muscles just beneath his skin. An uproarious, deafening laughter ripped through the cave. Malarkey slapped his knee, lighting his neighbors cigarette with his own as they watched the tattooist scold Finn. The boy wiped away the few tears that had managed to escape from his eyes, and bit his lip as he listened to the surly old man berate him, for a moment Otto was worried that Conor would back out, or worse, start crying. But he was pleasantly surprised when Connor threw back his head and barked out a laugh that undoubtedly hurt like hell when the old man yanked the needle out of his arm where it had embedded itself quite firmly. The old man prodded at the purple bruise that had quickly formed on Conor’s arm. “I thought Otto said you were a smart one” the tattooist criticized through his thick Irish accent. “Funny,” Conor said through gritted teeth as he readied his arm again. “He told me the same thing about you.”

The next several ‘taps’ of the needle went straight through to his bone.

Nearly 2 hours filled with loud conversation, crass jokes, and painful jabs from the tattooing needle went by. Despite the searing pain and near constant jokes at his expense, Conor felt relief, and an odd sense of comfort. He had found unexpected safety and kindness in the most vicious corner of the miserable place called Little Saltee. That’s not to say these sheep were in any way docile, the moment the artist was done he slapped the tattoo so hard that Conor thought he would pass out, he almost yelped, but the punch that came from the next Ram knocked the wind out of him before he could make any sound. The pain became worse as each man tried to show up the one before in the brutal final step of the initiation. for a brief moment Conor thought the Rams were trying to kill him, but when he looked to Malarkey the big man winked and slapped a handful of sand into the fresh tattoo. “Fair enough” Conor thought miserably.

When Conor returned from university, Isabella threw a ball. It’s was not an extremely large event, but a good portion of the Great Saltee was invited, several of the Battering Rams were also welcomed at Conor‘s request. After Isabella had performed all of her pleasantries, and the band began shifting their songs, Conor asked her to dance. Catherine and Declan were absolutely overjoyed to see their son relaxing enough to ask Isabella to dance. He had always been such a gentleman, Victor had taught him well enough to be the perfect suitor to any lady of royal descent. But maybe they should’ve stopped him.

As the song became more lively, people slowed their dancing to stare at the Broekhart boy and the queen’s outlandish display. Conor was leading Isabella in a fast paced Waltz that left her skirts spinning around her ankles without a single hint of shame on his face. The queen however, was struggling to maintain eye contact between her barely hidden giggles. A flurry of excited whispers broke out amongst the ballroom. The voices ranging from extremely amused to mildly appalled, to downright mortified.

Yes, Victor Vigney, the brilliant scientist, the man with limitless charisma, master of social etiquette, notorious French womanizer… had been the one to teach Conor how to dance.

Otto Malarkey wiped a tear of admiration from his eyes as he stood next to the horrified/amused Broekhart parents. “Oh the Viennese Waltz, such a lovely dance” Linus Wynter stroked his beard thoughtfully “A Viennese Waltz you say?” He chuckled to himself, “That blasted Saltee kiss must have burned away his last drop of shame!” Declan massaged the bridge of his nose. “Our son is a debauchee Catharine!”

“Our son, Declan, is the reason Victor will never truly die”

Most people would give Conor a break that night. His social skills were obviously messed up from being on the little Saltee for so long, maybe just this once it’s fine to be such a scoundrel at a Royal Ball. After all, Conor was such a polite boy growing up, and he’s been through so much. He deserves his mistakes. But a select few people totally know that Connor is just like this. Victor was his mentor after all..

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On the other hand, he might’ve felt really guilty for fighting said infant.

Honestly, no I don’t. Nick was said to be deeply in love with his wife when she passed. There is a scene in the prologue where he completely zones out of the conversation after he habitually relates the topic back to her. Also I feel that as Isabella grew up he dedicated all his time to her, his experiments, and the kingdom. I doubt he ever fell in love with anyone again.

Victor on the other hand is definitely on the loose side, but he specifically states that he chose to be a bachelor as he doesn’t want to be tied down with love, but that point is definitely up to interpretation because he totally could’ve been just trying to save face since Conor is a little brat and mentioned (very spitefully might I add) that he was single at 40. but I am inclined to believe him at least partially since he seems to be the type to enjoy throwing himself into his work completely. Also, I doubt he would appreciate being tethered anywhere. Specifically relating back to King Nicholas, I don’t think he would have gone for him, Victor is kind of constantly talking about women when he’s not discussing flying machines or the art of sword fighting and dancing. (and he only talks about those things when he’s not talking about champagne) but the description of Victor‘s love life in the book is definitely a lot more flexible than Nick’s.

So to summarize, I do not agree with your headcannon since I feel that it doesn’t work unless Nicholas is entirely over his deceased wife, which I don’t think he overcomes before his own death. But I can totally see why you think that is plausible. Especially with how good their character interactions and chemistry are. 

Thank you so much for your ask!!!!

Conor: Trying so hard to be quiet because he’s gotten himself tangled upside down on the banisters in his parachute after Linus told him to not open the prototype yet.