An introspective for Raistlin after the War of the Lance on his test at Wayreth, specifically how and why he reacted the way he did. This is my first Dragonlance fic sorry if I got much wrong.

While they were traveling he never allowed himself to think about it, his test and the reaction he had to seeing Caramon with magic, but now alone in the Tower of Palantis there was little else to do but think or read. He tried to focus on his books and spells yet his mind kept casting itself back to his test until finally he set aside the book he'd been struggling to read and got up.

As his feet carried him through the hallways his mind refocused on that fateful day and he pressed a hand tightly over his chest remembering the agony that washed through him when he bargained with Fistandantilus. Yet not long after he remembered Caramon and the delight on his face when he cast fireball, a spell that took him weeks to learn properly. The same fiery rage washed through him but this time Raistlin had more control. He halted the rage to examine what was the source.

There was a feeling of worthlessness and despair that accompanied the anger. With that he groaned, setting of a coughing fit in the process. As he leaned against the wall coughing Raistlin worked through those feelings and came to an alarming conclusion. He'd been angry because without his magic he felt like he was nothing.

Caramon would always have his strength and the trust of others because of how open and honest he was. Yet Raistlin always was suspected of doing or plotting something cruel or wrong and that was even without factoring his magic in. He was far too closed off from others and he knew it, that distance had been intended to protect him but it failed because everyone he would have reached out to distrusted him except for Caramon.

Stepping closer to the wall Raistlin pressed his back to it and slid down to sit on the floor resting his head against the cool stone. Closing his eyes he tried to erase the memory of Caramon's wounded and betrayed expression when they met afterwards and how he knew that something between them had shattered possibly to never be restored. Yet Caramon never asked so he never spoke. That was how it worked, perhaps if his warrior of a brother dared to ask, dared to brave his wrath, then Raistlin would have answered.

Now it was too late. Far too late because all the trust and compassion that he'd once held for them, for his brother and his once friends, was no more. They were so willing and comfortable to speak ill of him so they would get little more than the response that they earned. Cruelty and silence for slander and isolation, it seemed fair to him that they should receive such.

As for Caramon… he wanted to apologize and reach out to him, but no. No Caramon would be better off pushed away, after all Raistlin still had a Goddess to deal with maybe afterwards… maybe then he'd try. Until then no. He opened his eyes and climbed slowly to his feet again, his shoulders squaring as he resolved to do this, he turned to return to his books with a cool smile. There was work to do and he would not be distracted, certainly not by old griefs and guilt that would do absolutely nothing for him.