After three failed quizzes regarding Camarilla and Ventrue histories the next night, I grew numb to LaCroix's insults and mutterings about how I'd survived so long as a mortal if I couldn't even remember simple printed words on paper. He caught me sighing lightly and rolling my eyes at one of these ongoing complaints of his, but I didn't realize it at first. I should have caught the odd tone in his voice when he said, "Natalie..." but I was more caught off guard by the use of my first name.

I looked up at him from my book. "Yes?"

"Come here for a moment," he invited, sitting back in the chair across from me. His expression, as usual, didn't betray his thoughts. I got up and went around the table to stand beside him. He smiled up at me, but something in the smile seemed off. Calculated. He reached up and touched cool fingers to my jaw, his smile barely growing when his touch made me swallow hard. "To your knees, childe," he said softly. There was a moment's hesitation before I did as he ordered, the blood bond making me obey my sire. Now I was the one looking up at him. I wondered what was going through his head as his gray eyes studied me and his fingers gently combed through my hair. Before I could even complete the thought, however, his fingers tangled in my hair in a painful grip, pulling my head back roughly. I could hardly swallow from my throat being pressed so hard against the skin of my neck. "Do I bore you, fledgling?" LaCroix hissed, leaning down to bring his face close to mine. It was only then that I realized how badly I'd screwed up.

I struggled to shake my head, my hands trying in vain to pull his grip loose. "Please..." I whimpered, my voice choked. "I'm sorry..."

"I grow weary of hearing your meaningless apologies every time you insult me," he said, fangs bared and glistening. His grip pulled more tightly, making me wince. "Perhaps I've been too lenient with you thus far." He let go of me with a thrusting motion away from him, throwing me back onto the floor. As he slowly stood, his posture and glare told me I'd crossed a line one too many times.

I scrambled back to my knees, bowing my head before him. "Please, my Prince, I'm sorry," I said, trying to keep my words steady. I was dangerously close to babbling whatever I felt he wanted to hear. "I have behaved terribly, and I've taken advantage of your leniency. I beg you to forgive me."

LaCroix chuckled. "I've been much too forgiving already," he said. "If you're going to learn to respect me—something I now see has never truly happened—you must be given reason to do so."

"Please, Prince LaCroix," I begged, looking up at him now. "I respect you! You're my sire and my Prince! I lost control of a bad habit!"

"Control is one of the most important things a Ventrue must possess, Miss Lucas," he said, folding his hands behind his back. "You are far enough in your Agoge that you should have shed these 'bad habits' by now. Since this has clearly not been the case, you will be paying penance for each 'bad habit' that shows itself."

A feeling of dread settled inside me. Who knew exactly what "paying penance" meant to someone like LaCroix? All I could do, however, was nod and say, "Yes, my Prince."

"To your feet. Come with me," he commanded, turning and walking towards the fireplace. I followed, trying to keep up with him though my feet wanted to drag upon seeing our destination. When he was standing beside the fireplace, he turned back to me and held out his hand. "Your hand."

I bit my bottom lip as I gave him my hand shakily. His fingers closed around it tightly; and his other hand came up to sharply hit the underside of my chin, making me bite into my lip like the first night of my Agoge. I whimpered, the sting of shame that went through me hurting more than the sting of my teeth piercing my skin. I'd been so good about not giving in to that urge until that moment. I looked up at him and saw him looking at me reproachfully, but he didn't say a word. Instead, he shifted his grip to just below my elbow, making me hold my hand out to the flames in the fireplace. I could feel the heat, somewhat pleasant from this distance. In my mind, though, I knew what was about to happen; and fear began to gather a lump in my throat, threatening tears. LaCroix, not letting me go, came around to stand behind me, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist. In any other situation, his closeness would have been comforting. This time, however, I knew he was using his own body to ensure I wouldn't be able to escape my punishment.

He stepped forward, forcing me to do the same. Almost instantly, the heat from the fire went from pleasant to too hot, like turning the heat of one's shower too high. I gasped as he pushed me forward another step, my hand now feeling as if it was in the midst of the flames. It wasn't; he was merely making me hold my hand above the fire. Regardless, every instant was pain. I let out an agonized moan as he lowered my hand just slightly, intensifying the heat. "Fire cleanses," he said into my ear as a choked sob escaped me. "Those bad habits will be cleansed from you in this manner any time I see one manifest itself." I nodded, my body trembling as I struggled to keep from losing full control and being reduced to a quivering mass of tears that he was holding up. "Will you be so quick to roll your eyes at me in the future?" he asked. I shook my head vigorously. "Will you think twice before letting your actions or words insult me?" I nodded, deep-seated instinct beginning to make me pant with panic. My hand felt as if the skin would boil off it soon. As a human, I'd held my hand at this distance over a campfire without much effect. As Kindred, this experience was teaching me two things: exactly how much more dangerous fire was now that I was undead and exactly how unafraid of being cruel LaCroix could be.

LaCroix whispered one last question into my ear. "Will you do everything in your power to ensure your Prince will keep you?" I nodded again while ignoring a nagging at the back of my mind that was telling me it was an odd question under these circumstances. "Tell me," he whispered, his cool breath against my ear.

"Yes, my Prince, anything," I forced myself to say.

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, LaCroix pulled me backwards. He still held me around the waist, his other hand leaving my elbow to smooth my hair as he whispered to me again. "That is what I wanted to hear." His lips brushed against my ear as I turned my hand over to survey the damage.

My skin looked like a gnarled, pale scar, slightly blackened in spots. The burning pain radiated halfway up my forearm. It was painful enough to distract from the fact that LaCroix's lips were traveling down my neck, but only for a few moments. Even when I finally did notice, his kisses didn't have the same impact as usual. "Will it heal?" I asked, my voice breaking slightly.

"Eventually," he said, the brush of his lips against my skin this time bringing the usual shiver. "It will linger long enough to be a nuisance as you try to write."

"Write?" My eyes closed as my head tilted to one side, allowing him more room. A soft moan from him reached my ears right before I felt his tongue running up my neck where my pulse had once been strong. He slid his free arm around me, pinning my shoulders against him. He seemed to have not even heard my question. Instead, he continued to leave open-mouthed kisses on my neck, his front teeth scraping against my skin from time to time. The burn on my hand let my thoughts concentrate more on what he was doing than I usually could, the pain still numbing his effect on me. I came to realize how much he was centering on that area, how it seemed to drive him slightly wild. It brought a little smile to my face. "You wish you'd taken your opportunity when I was mortal, don't you?" I asked softly.

LaCroix jerked back, and I turned my head to look him in the eye. His lips were slightly parted, a glazed look of lust just clearing from his eyes. He swallowed before speaking. "Giving you an example of how one maintains control," he said, but I detected a note in his voice I'd never recognized before: weakness. My eyes narrowed slightly as I looked at him, silently daring him to look away and confirm my suspicions. Of course, he did not. He met my stare fully. I would have expected no less from Prince Sebastian LaCroix.

I nodded, conceding and looking away first. "Of course," I replied. "After all...it wouldn't do for a sire to drink from his childe, especially before the conclusion of her Agoge, right? To be bound to her?" My eyes flicked up to his again. This time, his were the eyes that narrowed. I was dancing on a dangerous line, and I knew it. He didn't like anyone else knowing his thoughts if he didn't put a voice to them. But if it was his transparency in a moment of weakness that allowed me such insight, what could he punish me for?

"You presume too much," he said in a low growl, letting go of me and turning away.

Before he could leave the room and lock himself away, I said, "You mentioned that my burn would be a nuisance while writing. What am I to write?"

"Oh yes," he said, stopping and facing me again. His expression was stone-faced once more. No surprise there. "You'll be writing your bloodline from beginning to end, much like a family tree following the generations of Embraces." My jaw dropped in surprise, an expression that seemed to please LaCroix. "From memory," he added with a smirk, leaving me speechless as he left the suite.

Two nights later, I bared my fangs as I dropped my pen yet again. My hand looked better; but it still sent shocks of burning pain into my arm whenever I tried to write, no matter how loosely I held the pen. I'd tried concentrating as much blood as I could spare to the burned palm, but it wasn't working fast enough. When I'd questioned LaCroix about it, he'd said something about fire causing a deeper kind of damage than most other things could, taking longer to heal even with vampiric abilities. In other words, he'd known I'd still be in pain days later. Bastard. At the beginning of the evening, he'd left the suite without a word to me, leaving me to my thirst as I still couldn't get my lineage correct. I silently cursed LaCroix's grandsire for apparently extending his Kindred "family" with nearly too many childer to count. I wondered how many of them were still alive and cursed any and all of them as well. As one could imagine, with the pain in my hand, the aggravation at not being able to complete my task correctly after two nights, and the growing thirst that I was once again doomed to until I could get this "family tree" correct, my mood was less than cheerful. Which is why, when LaCroix came back to the suite, I nearly growled at him. "I understand the lesson you were teaching me when you held my hand to the fire," I said, giving him a sideways glance, "but I wonder if you realized just how much it would slow my progress as I can hardly hold a bloody pen."

"It is up to you to overcome such setbacks," he said with a bored sigh. "And watch your mouth."

"That was hardly obscene!" I protested, slapping my pen down against the tabletop. Unfortunately, the palm of my injured hand also slapped the surface of the table, sending a jolt of pain through my arm and making me yelp softly.

"'Hardly,' perhaps, but still a betrayal of emotion better left hidden from view," LaCroix said, coming over to the table. With a frown, he read over what I'd written so far. When he'd reached the end, he reached across for my hand. I winced as he took it, expecting pain but feeling none. He was being rather gentle, actually, careful to not grip too tightly as he inspected the palm. He ran the fingertips of his other hand over the skin of my palm, sending conflicting jolts of ticklish pain up my nerves. "You'll be fine," he assessed, letting me go and turning away.

"And the lineage?"

"Complete it. We'll then see how you've done."

I sighed and gingerly picked up the pen again. Typical LaCroix. Not even a nod or a frown to tell me if I was on the right track. He'd let me get through all the work, then tell me I'd made a mistake early in the line. But, this was learning his way, even if it seemed to be a waste of time. He wasn't much of a teacher, I'd decided. He merely told me what to teach myself and administered the tests and punishment. Worse yet, his lack of expression when reading over what I'd already completed was making me second guess myself. Instead of completing the list, I was looking back over the previous names, wondering if I'd reversed some by accident or if I'd placed one way too early in the list. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to just write the rest of the names I knew in the order I thought was appropriate rather than "fixing" the previous ones. "Done," I said, dropping the pen and folding my arms on the table to rest my chin on them. I was tired, both from working and from thirst. I wanted to leave the suite. I wanted time to soak in a warm bath. I wanted to spend time laughing with Mercurio again. Truth be told, I was getting depressed through the process of the Agoge; and that scared me. If I gave up, I was dead. Completely.

I stared straight ahead blankly as LaCroix looked over the list I'd written. "Hm. You're in quite a lot of pain, aren't you?" he asked thoughtfully.

"How could you tell?" I asked, my voice flat.

"Your handwriting is sharper than usual," he said, sliding the paper back in front of me. "It shows you're in pain or agitated. Both, I'd wager, actually."

I thought briefly about making a sarcastic remark about his powers of observation and then pushed the thought away. "Both," I confirmed, my voice muffled against my arms.

"Then perhaps it will brighten your mood to learn that you've succeeded finally," he said. I brought my head up slightly to look at the paper, then to LaCroix. He was giving me a small smile. "I expect you to be able to repeat this performance tomorrow night."

I nodded, managing a small smile of my own. "Yes, sir."

There was a short pause before LaCroix said, "You'll be wanting your blood, I assume?"

Unconsciously, I licked my lips; but I said, "Whenever you see fit."

My answer made him frown at me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Again, he didn't seem pleased with my answer. He lifted his chin, looking down his nose at me through slitted eyes. Then his expression relaxed as if he'd come to a realization. "You're feeling your change, finally," he said softly.

"What're you talking about?" I asked, failing to keep the agitation from my voice.

"Your ways have moved towards that of a Ventrue's nicely, but a part of you is clinging to your humanity. You've been unable to touch your beloved sunlight for days. You've been sustained on blood alone, never again to taste your favorite food or drink. In your subconscious, you're afraid of accepting what you've become; and it's manifesting itself as a slight depression." I looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. Personally, I felt he was reading too much into it; but I wasn't going to be the one to tell him that. He went on with a self-satisfied smile, "It's normal. You'll work your way through it, out of necessity more than anything. It's good to retain a portion of your humanity, of course; but there are some aspects you're forced to abandon."

"Of course," I echoed. "I'm sure I'll be fine after having that drink."

I stayed at the table while LaCroix got us both glasses of blood. I could feel his eyes on me as I drank, trying to go slowly to savor it. There was no telling what task would next be a reason for deprivation, and I wanted to be sure to enjoy what I currently had. LaCroix finally cleared his throat, breaking the silence in the room. "I would hope you know that, if there's something else bothering you..." I glanced up at him as his voice trailed off. When our eyes made contact, he frowned slightly and looked away, taking a drink from his glass.

The action made me smile. He was trying to offer support...comfort...something resembling one of those, and it was making him absolutely uncomfortable. It reminded me that he was probably unsure of how to be a "good sire" since I was his first childe. So I assumed, anyway. Truthfully, it was a little endearing to see him at least trying. "I'm fine," I reassured him. "You're right, in part. Otherwise, I'm just tired."

"Tired?" he repeated, looking back at me with a raised eyebrow.

I nodded, finishing the blood before going on. "Tired of all this. Discouraged, I guess. I was hoping I'd just zip through all this since I knew so much about vampires already." I shrugged. "Kinda stupid for me to think that."

LaCroix chuckled. "Your knowledge made you overconfident. It's understandable." I watched him walk away from the table to sit on the couch. His words confused me, primarily because they weren't belittling or reproachful. Rather, it felt more as if he was trying to reassure me again. Perhaps he was trying to tell me that my mind was in the right place, considering the circumstances? "If it's any consolation, you're nearing the end," he added.

Rising from my seat, I asked, "Really?" It had only been around a week, but the mixture of pain and constant thirst had made the time seem to stretch into an eternity.

He glanced up at me. "Of this portion of your Agoge, yes. I predict that, in a few nights, you'll be ready for your first presentation." I walked over to the couch to sit next to him. "It should be an interesting evening," the Prince said, giving me a smile that seemed to hide more than his words revealed. "After all, your presentation will be different from most."

"How?" I asked, licking my lips as I watched him drink from his glass. My one serving hadn't quite satisfied, but I knew better than to ask for more.

"Most are presented to the Prince of the city in their first presentation, the other Ventrue present merely as an audience," he explained. "Since you are a Prince's childe, you will be presented to the whole of Los Angeles's Ventrue population."

If I could have gone any more pale than I already was, I would have upon hearing those words. "No pressure," I said weakly.

LaCroix frowned. "You knew of this," he reminded me.

"Yeah, but I thought I'd feel much more ready for it!" I said. "If I don't have much more to learn..."

LaCroix waited until my voice trailed off and I left the sentence unfinished before he shook his head. "You don't have anything to worry about. This presentation is just for them to see how you act among others of your clan. You won't be quizzed or questioned. All you'll need to do is remember your etiquette and posture." He brought my chin up gently with a finger, the corner of his mouth curled up slightly. "You've been able to manage that since before your Embrace." His finger left my chin and quickly brushed my cheek. "Just remember that you are no longer acting like Ventrue. You are Ventrue."

I blinked at him in surprise as the truth of his words hit me. As his ghoul, among others of the clan, I'd tried my best to blend in, copying LaCroix's mannerisms and courtesies, even his ways of speech. But as of the night of my Embrace, I should have started thinking of myself as one of them. The smile on LaCroix's face had seemed familiar from the moment I first noticed it, and I now realized why: it was the same smile he gave when we were planning on acting in our little deception as lovers, a smile that spoke of a secret just between the two of us. Now, however, it seemed like more than that. He had faith in me. I found myself returning the smile and felt a little confidence coming back. I am Ventrue, I thought, enjoying the sound of the words in my head. Success is in the blood. Aloud, I said, "I won't let you down, my Prince. I don't think it would be possible in the slightest."

"Oh?" He looked slightly amused.

I chuckled. "Of course not. It's your blood in me, after all. If I can't draw upon that and gain success, I've no right to it anyway." His wide grin at that lifted my spirits considerably. Or perhaps it was a delayed effect of the blood I'd drunk. Either way, there was no longer any doubt in my mind that the first phase of my Agoge was nearly over and that I'd passed with flying colors.