Chapter Text
Fitzroy gripped the sides of the porcelain sink tightly as he stared himself down in the mirror. His knuckles turned white and below him his foot tapped a nervous rhythm. This couldn’t be happening, he thought to himself, it was impossible. There must be a mistake, there had to be.
He wasn’t a bad person, was he? He wasn’t suited for the Villain Track. Was it too late to transfer back to Clyde Nite’s Night Knight School? Could he go home? He gritted his teeth at the thought. No, he couldn’t. He had something to prove, a future waiting for him that he knew he was destined for. People would know his name and respect him; finally. Then why? He wasn’t a bad person. He wasn’t.
Unless...
There’s some laughter to Fitzroy’s right. He folds into himself a little, pulls his cloak a little tighter. They weren’t laughing at him, right? His nails tear into the insides of his palm as he tightens them.
“ Alright, Maplecourt. You’re up next.”
His head snaps up and his brows furrow. He can do this.
T he goal is simple. The class is outside for defense training, learning how to use weapons as a defense without escalating a scenario. All very important for a knight, Fitzroy thought. All he had to do was deflect a prestidigitation spell, a beginner move. He can do this. Straightening his posture and smoothing his cloak back out, he watches as his instructor eyes him. She nods and raises her hand beginning the incantation.
Fitzroy moves to follow and instead a swell of energy fills him. Something bitter and erratic, he stands taller as his classmates look on with surprise. Yes, he thought, looking at them gape. Look at me. I’m doing it. A grin spreads on his face and his eyes narrow.
Then the crowd erupts into audible frightened gasps. What?
His head snaps back to face his instructor, or what was his instructor. Standing before him, below him actually, is a catfish. A catfish. Right where his instructor was. He feels his eyes widen and he staggers back as he himself gasps slightly. There are whispers surrounding him, the class has come to form a circle around him. They glance around trying to figure out what’s going on. This can’t be happening, surely I didn’t do that, he reasoned. What other option was there though? This wasn’t the first time his nerves had gotten the better of him, something weird always followed. One time he could have sworn he teleported twenty feet away. It was weird, which is why he didn’t tell anyone. Knights don’t use magic, and he didn’t want to either.
His classmates look up at him with wide eyes. He realizes faintly that they’re afraid of him. That perhaps what he’s done (did he actually do that?) will also happen to them. In the back of his mind he knows that their fear is not good. He knows that, he does. But, they’re still looking at him. They aren’t laughing anymore, they’re watching. They may not respect him, but fear and respect can be synonymous. Right? The hysteria builds and the tension grows. A grin escapes his face and he laughs quietly, his eyes begin to water. The other students begin to take a step back, one running to get a professor and others avoiding his eye contact all together.
They fear me, he realizes, and I’m okay with that. I - maybe - enjoy that.