Connor Stoll was a cocky bastard. You knew it, he knew it, his brother and half siblings knew it... the whole camp knew it. But that didn't stop you two from having almost the same interaction every few months.

He'd tease and prank just a little more often. He'd come out to you and talk to you more often, his gentle teasing turned to semi playful insults. One's that made you desperately want to punch him. He knew that. He'd then start to go off about how he could totally beat you in a fight. So much so that it would inevitably end in a sword fight between the two of you in the back of the arena. Every time, every single time, it ended with him, at your feet, blade tight at his neck, blood slowly dripping from cuts or a bloody nose, and that stupid face with that stupid smile looking up at you. And every time he got up, He'd make some dumb comment about how he "let you win" or it was "luck" that's how it always was and how it always will be... so why right now are you slumped to your knees? Why was that same stupid boy's sword under your chin, gently pressing into your throat? Your sword lay a few feet to the side, your hands now red, covered in dirt and blood. Your head is slowly forced up with the slight movement of his sword, and once again, you're met with that same stupid grin... but this time, it's looking down at you. And this time, it's even more cocky then usual.