You were in your early twenties when you arrived at Miss Robichaux's Academy. You weren't exactly one of the older witches, but your talent had caught Cordelia's attention rather quickly.

You seemed polite, calm, and even somewhat reserved. Always willing to help, rarely involved in conflicts, and, at first glance, you didn't seem like much of a problem for the Coven.

Fiona, however, had never believed that.

She didn't need much time to realize when someone was hiding something. And there was something about you that didn't quite fit the carefully constructed image you presented.

Fiona would occasionally appear at the Academy without warning, usually to speak with Cordelia, interfere in Coven affairs, or simply see what was happening. She never bothered to explain her visits.

That afternoon, she was sitting in the parlor, drinking wine while listening to the girls talk.

Madison was making another cruel remark about Nan, as usual, without the slightest concern about sounding pleasant.

You sighed, glancing at her.

"You don't have to be so cruel."

Madison rolled her eyes and continued talking.

You didn't argue. You simply went back to what you were doing.

From across the room, Fiona raised one eyebrow.

Not because you had defended Nan.

Because of the way you had done it.

There was no outrage. No lecture. No desperate need to prove that you were a better person.

You simply hadn't liked what Madison had said and decided to put an end to it.

Interesting.

Later, when the other witches had left, you walked back into the room and found Fiona alone.

She was reclining on the couch, a glass of wine between her fingers.

"You know you're terrible at pretending, don't you?"

You stopped.

"Pretending what?"

Fiona smiled.

"That."

She made a vague gesture toward you.

"That whole thing you do. The polite, sensible, perfectly harmless young witch."

You remained silent.

Fiona studied your face for a few seconds.

"Don't look so offended. I'm not insulting you."

She took another sip of her wine.

"I'm saying it's rather clever."

Her eyes slowly moved over you before meeting yours again.

"You know exactly what people want to see, and you give it to them."

Fiona tilted her head.

"But it won't work on me."

A brief silence followed.

"I already know you're not as good as you pretend to be."

A faint smile appeared on her lips.

"And honestly?"

Fiona stood.

"I prefer you that way."

She walked past you, but stopped beside you.

"Keep letting everyone believe you're a saint, darling."

The corner of her mouth lifted.

"It's much more entertaining when I'm the only one who knows the truth."