I wrote this story a couple of years ago when I first read Airman. I actually started it before I'd finished the book, as a possible example of Connor returning to Isabella and his parents. It is written as an alternate chapter 17.
Connor is sitting on the tower roof carving a new propeller when he notices faint shadows shifting on the floor. He looks behind him towards the city, where an orange glow is flickering and strengthening. Isabella. Before he realises what he is doing, he grabs the glider, buckling it on with trembling fingers, and throws himself off the roof. For a long moment the ground rushes sickeningly towards him before the wind caches him and sweeps him up and away, towards the fire.
As he flies closer he can see that Bonvilain's tower is alight, a roaring pillar of flame. The square below is packed with people pointing and shouting, the fire brigade reduced to protecting the surrounding buildings. Suddenly, he sees movement closer, on the roof of the burning tower. Standing right at the edge, silhouetted against the flames is a young woman, skirts whipping in the wind. For a moment, he sees a different scene; a different tower was burning, the flames glowing purple and green. On the edge of the roof, next to the snapping flag, are two small figures, a girl and a boy. Then the image is gone; the flames are the familiar orange-yellow and the boy vanishes. But the girl remains, merging with the young woman to form one. Isabella!
Connor plunges downwards, diving towards the flames. At the last moment he grabs Isabella around the waist and pulls her off the tower, sparks igniting in his wings. The added weight drags him groundward, forcing him to land in a rapidly cleared space in the centre of the square. He sets Isabella on her feet then turns to quickly remove his burning glider, the smoke stinging his eyes. When he turnes back, he sees that his parents have come to help Isabella but he ignores them and grabs her by her arms and, eyes flashing, turnes her to face him.
"What were you doing? You could have been killed, Isabella. Don't you ever learn? I won't always be around to save you."
She stares at him in shocked recognition, "C – Connor?"
He lets go and quickly takes a step back, a shutter closing over his face. "That is indeed my name. Connor Finn at your service, your Majesty." And he gave a bow.
"Connor Finn?" she asks; her tone somewhere between questioning and accusing.
"Connor Broekhart is dead," he says in a clipped voice. "He died three years ago when he saw his king and his mentor murdered. He died when he found love only to have it taken away again. He died, when his father blamed him for murder and vowed to kill him on sight. He died, of longing and despair, imprisoned deep in Little Saltee. Connor Broekhart died!" He stops then, panting slightly, his voice having risen almost to a shout during his speech. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he continues. "Connor Broekhart died, but as Connor Finn I have survived."
Suddenly, his father surges forward, breaking free of his mother's grip. "Lies, all lies. My son died a hero, trying to save his king. Yes, my son, killed by a renegade soldier, oh I've seen him. Him with his matted hair and ratty beard, his face so beaten you could hardly see his features. I saw the tattoo they wear. And I will kill him. If ever I see him again, I will kill the crazy bastard who took my son."
Connor glares back at him, his whole body stiff with tension, his voice dripping sarcasm. "It's amazing what a few lies can make you see. What you saw was an innocent young man, dressed in a uniform with a fake tattoo. A lunatic box so he can't protest with a wig and gunpowder stubble to disguise him, and the picture is complete. But who is this innocent youth, this young man you vowed to kill? Bonvilain lied to you, he lied to us all. That was not a murderer you saw there but your son, Declan Broekhart, your beloved son Connor."
At this, his father seems to crumple. "My son? Oh, how could I have been so blind? Connor, it really is you?" He reaches out to Connor once more, not in anger this time, but in remorse. But Connor pulls away, avoiding his touch.
"No! There is no room in your family for another son. I am Connor Finn now. Finn, who is strong and ruthless and relies only on himself; Finn, who has no-one to love who can hurt him; Finn, who will do whatever it takes to survive. That is who I am now, Connor Finn, fugitive and diamond smuggler." He turns away bitterly; not seeing his father, stunned as though he had been slapped, or his mother, hands over her mouth, tears silently coursing down her cheeks.
"You're wrong, Connor." Isabella reaches out to place a gentle hand on his arm. "Connor Finn does not dream of flying, Connor Broekhart does. Connor Finn could not have made such a successful glider, but Connor Broekhart has. Connor Finn will never build a heavier-than-air flying machine but Connor Broekhart will be the first, I know it."
Although his heart is screaming at him to lean in towards her, Conner shrugs her off, shame mixing with his anger. "I am nothing but a flying thief."
She does not try to touch him again, but reaches out with her voice instead. Almost pleading with him to understand; to forgive, not them, but himself. "Do you not see? The young man in front of me has his mother's brain and his father's heart. He has suffered, true, but he has succeeded and Victor would be proud. He has learnt how to fly, but more importantly, he has learnt about life and himself. I want that young man with me, by my side always. I want you, Connor Broekhart, not Finn but the friend of my childhood. The one who would give me a model glider for my birthday and, I suspect, firework balloons for my coronation. The Airman who has now saved my life not once, but twice. Can you be that person, Connor?"
Silence echoes around the small group as they wait for his response. This is it; the moment when he chooses his future. Broekhart or Finn. A long moment passes, then he turns to face Isabella once more, bending in a graceful bow. "Your Majesty, Sir Connor Broekhart at your service."
At this, his mother comes rushing forward, smiling through her tears as she says over and over again "My son, my son." For the next few blissful moments he is hugged by his parents until he can hardly breathe. Too soon, his mother pulls away slightly and, keeping an arm around him, turns to glare at Isabella. "Now that we finally have our son back, would you please answer his original question?"
As they turned to look at her, Isabella blinks in confusion, then blushes. "Well, I found a diary of my father's, from just before he died. In it, he says a whole heap of things about Bonvilain not being trustworthy, but not having proof. I went to his tower to see if it was true, and to try and find some proof myself. Then something happened and the tower was on fire."
Conner looked at her, painful memories burning in his eyes. "Let me show you Little Saltee. That will give you all the proof you need."