Chapter 7: Upside down

Disclaimer: All the characters and places belong to their respective creators and owners. I only own my OC and make no money whatsoever out of this.

When I was a child, I used to be afraid of the dark, of the Haunted House at the fairground and generally of all spooky or gory things. Growing up, when being dragged to watch horror films, I had to keep myself from laughing most of the time. Not because I was a lion-heart (courage and stupidity are separated by a thin line, and constantly threaten to overlap), but since I had learned that the truly frightening matters were far more everyday and mundane: diseases, both physical and psychical, violence hidden behind the closed doors of glamorous villas and modest residences alike, and, generally, all those tragedies, mostly men-induced that strip human beings of their very souls and spirits, reducing them to mere empty shells of their former selves.

That was the reason why I was barely affected by travelling through the Tremere dungeon, filled with Gargoyles, traps and other unidentifiable manifestations. Sure, I was extremely thankful I had the Regent's pendant to protect me, and was once again reminded that, as much as I honestly enjoyed his company, he was on top of my list of people not to mess with. Nonetheless, it was what awaited at the end of the tunnel, beyond the wooden door I was now leaning on, that scared me the most. Witnessing LaCroix's breakdown at the Tower, as much as it may have not been sincere, had already affected me badly, and I did not want to see more. I wanted to remember him as the cold, manipulative bastard with a fast tongue and nonexistent scruples, who could hold a city in his palm.

Still, the small window at the top of the door, designed to keep an eye on prisoners and that I now knew for certain worked one-way only, gave back a very different image. Not bloody or tortured, the Regent was not an idiot and if LaCroix had to go to "Saint Helena", he would need to be apparently intact; besides, there are other ways to break a man. Nonetheless, seeing him seated on the damp stone floor, shackles on both wrists and ankles, still dressed in the tailored trousers and shirt of his latest suit, now tattered near the restraints and generally scruffy, like a metaphor of his own descent, was very disquieting. It wasn't as if I felt sorry for him, he deserved it all, and, had it been possible, keeping him in confinement for an indefinite time would have been a more than fair punishment. Still, observing him in these conditions felt like intruding into something mostly private, and even seeing him naked would have probably been less embarrassing.

I forcibly took a step back from the door and inspected the other empty cells, and, finally, the small room designed for allowing guards to rest. A bunk bed, a sink and a small fridge, which did not seem to be powered by electricity, but, after all, the room temperature was pretty low. Opening it I found some blood packs, and, luckily, most were of higher quality and fit for a Ventrue; maybe not my preferred variety but it would have to do. I took one and drank from it until I was sated, and, remembering the Regent's warning, I stuffed two others in my bag: the coldness of the dungeon would be enough to preserve them for some hours.

Gathering all of my courage, I put on my best imperturbable face and unlocked Pandora's door. LaCroix's head immediately shot up, poorly concealed fear written all over his face, replaced by surprise and then anger as he saw me.

"I am not here to escort you to the Conclave, if that's what you are thinking," I explained, sensing that I had had the right intuition. He was easier to read than usual, probably the imprisonment had taken its toll on him.

"Then, what do I owe the pleasure of this visit to? Come to rejoice over your victory? To rub the salt in the wounds? It must be incredibly satisfying for you to have me at your feet, defenceless, but if you think you will see me squirming, or begging I…"

"Of course, the time for pleading is past, now that you think it won't do you any good," I replied evenly, blocking his tirade. Still, it was a good sign: his spirit was there, injured but still present. I needed someone who wanted to live and to fight, not a hopeless casket for our plan to work.

"As for the rest, it is nice of you to project your qualities upon me, but, unlike you, I am not gratified by tormenting a fallen opponent, and vengeance will not bring back what you have taken away from me."

"Like your beloved Mr Rodriguez?" he asked mellifluously, almost spitting out Nines' surname. So Strauss was right, not that it surprised me.

"I am sorry to inform you that, despite all your efforts, my beloved Mr Rodriguez is very much alive but still in hiding, while knowing that I had a blood hunt on my head. I do not know your definition of love, but in my book it does not consist of bringing the inquisition down on your darling's neck reciprocally."

I could see the news of Nines' survival had hit him: he hadn't even managed to get rid of his Nemesis, and had lost it all in the process.

"Why are you so obsessed with Nines?" I asked, out of sincere curiosity.

"I am not obsessed with Rodriguez!" said the guy who bargained his whole reign for a coffin, actually outraged.

"In my humble opinion, you have always given the Anarch leader far more importance than he is worth. Sure, he is well-loved amongst Kindred, but he has been defeated by both the Camarilla and the Kuei-Jin; he and his gang were not that much of a threat, at least compared to the Sabbat or your late friend Xiao's troops."

"In spite of your idiocy, you have said it yourself, he is well-loved. Everybody adores his irresponsible antics, they find them charmant. While I, for trying to keep order in the City and forbidding them to fornicate and Sire their ways into oblivion, was a fascist oppressor."

Imprisonment was really making him open up, at least for his standards: this could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get information out of him. He was envious of Nines, of course, how could I have not seen it before? The Brujah was liked and respected, despite having no official position; LaCroix was well… feared at first and then gradually ended up being mocked by his own Primogen, although that was mostly his responsibility. Liked, as far as I knew, he never was. Might there be a great subconscious insecurity hiding behind LaCroix's mania of grandeur and apparently inflated ego? Could it be this same insecurity that had lead him to believe that he wouldn't be able to "hold the fort" without some higher supernatural powers and that had started his descent into madness? He had a Napoleon complex, at the very least, of that I was sure.

"Then yesterday night was not retribution?" he scoffed, clearly trying to change the subject and I let him, since I had gathered my conclusions and he would never admit to it, even if it were true. His eyes were trained in front of him, at the level of my knees, while I had to crane my neck down to look at him. Maybe he had liked the power trip of staring down at people from a height, but I just found it uncomfortable.

"No, it was good sense, not something personal, as much as your ego might not believe it," I replied, unbuttoning my jacket and slowly sitting down on the floor myself, across from him but out of his reach. With the skirt and heels it was not very comfortable, but I had a feeling that it would pay off.

"The main problem was not the fact that you tried to frame me for Nines' 'death', or called a blood hunt on my head. It wasn't pleasant, but I know how these things work: in politics, these kind of deceptions are almost second nature, and from you I expected no less, from the very beginning," I explained, sensing I had his attention.

"Maybe I would have come back to you, if I had thought you had the Camarilla's, or even just your best interests at heart. But when you realise that the Prince, the Kindred who is supposed to be the wisest and most powerful, cannot even see what is good for him anymore, and is destroying himself and all he has accomplished in centuries, then you know that either he falls, or you and the whole community will."

"HOW DARE YOU!" he growled, trying to grab me but clashing against the chains, and consequently yelling in torment as some of his blood was burnt. Damned idiot! Luckily I had planned in advance how to react to a tantrum.

In a few seconds I was on him, staking him straight in the heart, with the chirurgical precision that seemed somehow second nature to the Kindred condition and opening another tear in the tattered shirt. I took out a blood pack, pressing it to his open mouth, careful not to cut myself on his fangs.

"Now I am going to remove the stake, and if you want to prove me wrong, you are going to drink and stand still. Because killing yourself in order to clutch me, when you perfectly know that it is futile, only seems to back up my precedent assertion." I could not believe I was giving orders to LaCroix, it was so… alien. It reminded me of when my mother had had a stress-induced nervous breakdown, that fortunately had resolved itself in a few days of rest, and I had to take care of her, like she were the baby: it had felt so inherently wrong to invert the roles.

I quickly pulled out the stake, and jumped back from him; better to stay on the safe side and out of reach. But it was unnecessary: LaCroix was greedily sucking from the plastic bag, and I inferred that he probably had not being able to feed since his arrest. Nothing like hunger to turn a run of the mill blood into the finest of vintage. I sat back down.

The bag was emptied and discarded, but silence still filled the cell, as LaCroix stared at me intently, as if he were trying to see right through me. I wouldn't put it past him to be able to, in normal conditions, but since I had been able to resist his Domination and he was now not really himself, I doubted he would manage to. I simply stared back at him, in a sort of unspoken war.

"Why are you set on keeping me alive? Not wanting to be deprived of the execution of the century?" he finally asked, massaging his wrists.

"Sorry to disappoint you again, but I am not into Panem et Circenses. That was your policy."

"But maybe your dear Max is?" he asked and, if possible, the taste he gave to the Regent's name was even more bitter than when he talked about Nines. "How long have the two of you been consorting behind my back?"

"Four nights, actually, unless you consider being polite with one of the most influential Primogen as such."

"Do you take me for an idiot? Being on a first-name basis with a man like Strauss is quite far beyond simple courtesy," he snarled, clearly unconvinced. I was grateful that the question was rhetorical, because at the moment he would not have liked the answer.

"Believe what you like… I am not here to discuss my social life, but to make you a proposition."

"A proposition? You have nothing to offer that might appeal to me," he uttered slowly, sneering and scanning me. I hoped that it was only my overworked brain that kept on making up nonexistent double entendres, albeit insulting ones.

"I would not be so sure of that. Besides, it is on the Council's behalf, I am the ambassador, so to speak."

"Ah, it is our dearest Strauss who sends you, as I had imagined," he murmured poisonously, knitting his brows together, eyes reduced to slits. "Very well, you can spare yourself the trouble and tell the Primogen that I am not interested, unless they proffer to set me free and turn themselves into ashes, while they are at it."

"Well, I cannot make any promises about the voluntary combustion, but as for the first part there might be certain margins for a negotiation. Still, if you really want me to leave…" I trailed off, starting to get up and quite purposefully rummaging in my purse, so that he might see the blood pack inside. I knew that the last one would not have been nearly enough to quench his thirst completely.

"Since you have already decided to impose your presence… Go on, humour me," he drawled with a smirk, but I could see I now had his full attention. Hope dies last, they say, and I was sure that even LaCroix was no exception.

"The Council has decided to give you a choice, that will allow you to avoid the Conclave and a most certain death sentence," I started to explain, settling myself back down and leaning against the door panel. "You will resign from your position as Prince of Los Angeles, by your own volition, and will, without delay, leave the State of California and the West Coast of the United States of America, never to return."

"An exile, like Napoleon?" he murmured, closing his eyes. "Who is behind this idea?"

"That is hardly important, what truly matters is that it is the only option you have," I replied, not really wanting to answer to this question, since I did not know what I should tell him.

"I doubt it is offered out of generosity," he scoffed, joining the tips of his fingers. "The Primogen fear the scandal, am I right? If I refuse, I will go down, yes, but I will take them, and you, along with me. So, what makes you think that I shall accept?"

I did not like the maniacal glint in his eyes, I had to bring him back to reason and one sure-fire way to get to him was Clannish pride.

"The fact that self-destructing yourself to hurt your opponents is hardly the way of a rational Ventrue. Maybe a hot-headed Brujah would do it, but we are not born to be Kamikaze… to send other people out on suicide missions, most certainly, but we… We are designed to endure, to resist, to survive, because we know that as long as we do there is always another chance, to learn from our mistakes and get back up."

"Are you trying to teach me what being a Ventrue entails?"

"No, I am simply trying to remind you of your own teachings, since you seem to have forgotten them."

It was a lie: he had hardly taught me anything, but better not push my luck with his temper. Nevertheless, I half expected him to throw another tantrum, but he just looked at me intently, and if a gaze could burn, I would be a pile of ashes.

"What are their conditions?"

"First of all, for obvious reasons, you will not be allowed to recount what really happened these last few nights, but that is in your best interests too. You will have to give a full confession of your recent… misdeeds, which will be recorded and stored. Should you try to return, regain power or in any way pose a threat to LA Camarilla, it will be made public, and you know how fast news travels nowadays."

"What guarantees do I have that you will not divulge this tape anyway, or use it to keep me under constant blackmail?"

"You don't have any… But, as you said, the Primogen want to avoid the scandal, so, it seems only logical that they will not let it out on a whim."

"Indeed," he pondered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Anything else?"

"Yes, any information you have on Primogen Cutteridge, which we are going to verify carefully, of course." It was a risky move, but a situation like this was unrepeatable and it was my "trust fund" for the future.

"I doubt this is a request from the Council."

"It is not, but the circumstances are… peculiar. We cannot risk you blackmailing him in order to get back in the city, can we?"

"So you are taking the matter into your own hands?" he half-asked with a strange tone, and I did not bother to answer, since it was quite rhetorical. "First you would have me banished from my domain and then subject me to facing the wrath of the Elders of our Clan for slighting a Primogen… Splendid."

"It is not as if his skeletons would be bared for the public to see, and he is going to have more pressing issues to worry about than you."

"Like you and Strauss?"

"I am sure the Regent will keep him quite busy, yes. And you should know it from first-hand experience." At that, LaCroix actually chuckled, albeit bitterly, but at least it was not the maniacal laughter of the night before.

"What if I refuse this last request? It is not an official clause, and I could always relate our engaging conversation to Cutteridge, once I am in exile. As you said, with modern information technologies, news spreads instantly."

"Well, first you have to get to the exile. You are on Tremere grounds now and it would be extremely unfortunate if you were to pull on those chains with too much force or try an escape and… turn up dead. With the Sheriff and Xiao having passed away, I am sure that it would not be terribly difficult to give your demise a credible back-story. And I wager that most of the Primogen and the majority of the Kindred populace will be too relieved to bother to ask too many questions. From what little I have seen of the Regent's powers, the beheading would be a blessing, compared to their methods of execution."

"Are you threatening me?" he hissed, with that reptilian expression back on his face.

"I am merely presenting you with the possible outcomes of your actions, since you asked me to," I bluffed, since I knew Strauss wanted LaCroix to stay alive, but I was sure that he would forgive my little gambit if it brought him a leading hand over Cutteridge. Soon the gears for the election of the new Prince would set in motion, and this would help the Regent, and consequently myself, no matter if he decided to take the spotlight on himself or not.

Silence once again enveloped us, and he put his head in his hands, probably pondering over his options. Every now and then, though, I caught him stealing some furtive glances in my direction and I did not know if it was a good sign or not.

"I never would have imagined you had it in you," he finally murmured, as if speaking to himself. "You seemed the perfect prototype of a subservient, trusting little soldier, swallowing my every word without questions. Never a doubt, never any hesitation, just pure obedience... Had I known you were like this…"

"I wouldn't have lasted a week," I replied with a smirk; so I had been convincing in my act, that was good to hear. But it was more than that, now that he made me think about it: two years ago I was really not the same person I was now. Sure, I wasn't the gullible lapdog I had played in his presence, but that Irene would not have been able to carry out the banter we had had just now, to understand which buttons to push, to take a gamble. I realised with a start that my latest retorts would have sounded quite perfectly on LaCroix's lips. He had changed me, this world had changed me and I was not certain that it had been a positive evolution.

"Probably not," he admitted, leaning back on the wall behind him, seemingly lost in thoughts. "But it would have been… intriguing, breaking this spirit of yours down into submission…"

Ok, this was positively creepy, the feral look in his eyes and the way he licked his lips while he was probably daydreaming of literally crushing me to a pulp. How could you respond to something like that?

"I could think of more rewarding hobbies, but… as they say, whatever floats your boat, I guess." There, humour, my last resort.

"Then, by all means, share your expertise on the subject: if I accept your most generous offer, I will have plenty of leisure time from now on." Behind the venom I was able to perceive the pain and the disorientation. I could not say I knew him much, but, as far as I could tell, he was a real workaholic, and as a Prince he must not have had even time to have a break. His life was going to undergo a revolution, and, although having time to reflect on his actions should be therapeutic, it was doubtless a perspective he dreaded. Maybe it was time for a different approach.

"They say the higher up you are, the more it hurts when you fall… When I was Embraced and you… took me in your service… everything I had, everything I was… it was taken away from me in a moment. I was forced to reinvent myself into something I had never expected I could be. It was a searing pain, but, in perspective, it was just a dive down a small flight of stairs: you have come crashing down from the top of Venture tower, in comparison. So, I cannot pretend to fully understand how it feels, but what I know is that the sooner you accept that this is the reality and move on, the higher chances you have of surviving the blow," I explained with a soft tone, taking my time.

First a "slap", and now a "caress", a usually effective persuasive technique. LaCroix had taught me something after all, though unintentionally. It felt strange using his own methods on him, but I hoped it would work.

"Listen, we both know this could be your Elba or your Saint Helena. It would be irrational of you to fulfil Napoleon's destiny until the end: LA, California and even the whole West Coast are only a small part of a large world. Time is not a problem and you may have lost a lot, but few Ventrues have accomplished in two hundred years the things you have. In spite of your recent mistakes, and even if there is not any love lost between us, I would be a fool not to acknowledge the fact that you are not an ordinary Kindred. I am sure you have extensive knowledge and connections, both in Europe and on the East Coast. Consider this incident a lesson on the dangers of obsessions and of relying on shortcuts. Learn from it and, with some patience, I am certain that you will get back to greatness, just somewhere else."

Again, I expected a fit of temper for daring to lecture him, which was something so foreign for me as to be physically exhausting. He merely drew back to what seemed to be his favourite pastime as of late: scanning my face with those grey eyes. Suddenly, his expression changed in an amused smirk, which I could not understand for the "life" of me.

"The exile… it was your idea, am I right?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Do you seriously think that the Council would listen to me?"

"No, but Max would… It seems that I was correct, after all: you have truly brought me the key to my future, and I fully intend to take advantage of it. You can tell Strauss that I accept the conditions."

There was an intimidating undertone in his voice and a strange fire in his eyes that made a shiver run down my spine. He was not back to his former self, but his spirit was recovering, I could sense it, and I did not know if I were more relieved or more worried. If there was one thing I was certain about, it was that I did not envy those who would find themselves on his way.

"As I said, believe what you like. In any case, I am going to call the Regent so that the two of you might go over the minor details and proceed to the fulfilment of all the clauses," I said, standing up.

Silence overtook us once again; for a split second I had the impression that LaCroix was going to say something, but he didn't. I knew this was the time when I was supposed to say goodbye, but the situation was hardly conventional. Plus, the mere idea of an un-life without LaCroix in it was surreal, although not in a bad way. It would take time getting used to it.

"I guess I won't see you again before your… departure, so… Adieu, sir."

"Au revoir, Irene… Au revoir," he replied with a smirk and I did not know if I were more unsettled by his use of my first name, or by his choice of words.

With one last look in his direction, I stepped out and locked the door behind me, leaning on it and exhaling a long breath..

I took a few strides and pulled the rope of the antique bell. No sound came out, but I was not surprised: ironically, it was what worked exactly like it should that amazed me nowadays.

After about ten minutes, I heard steps and the Regent appeared before me, seemingly perplexed and carrying a bag.

"I take it that he has accepted the proposal, unconditionally?"

"Yes, Max. He is ready for the play."

"Excellent work, Irene. You have performed well tonight."

"Thank you, sir… Truth to be told, he has agreed to an extra condition too," I explained, trying to gauge his reaction. I knew I had not consulted him before, but it had been a unique opportunity.

"What do you mean?"

"He is prepared to share with you all the… skeletons in Cutteridge's closet that he knows of…"

"I beg your pardon?" he asked with a strange tone and I inwardly cringed. Had I dared too much?

"Well, he was… more talkative than usual… quite open for his standards and I thought… Carpe diem… Considering how uncomfortable Cutteridge seemed to be about LaCroix's survival, and how they used to be on the same side… I guessed he must know some dirt about the Primogen and I was afraid that he might… you know… blackmail him once he were in exile to try and get back… I am sorry if I…" I babbled, worried about not being able to read Strauss' expression. Suddenly, I was interrupted by his chuckle.

"There is nothing to apologise for: I was merely surprised by your initiative, and not in a negative way," he clarified with a smile. "The idea had occurred to me as well, but my priority was obtaining his confession. After I had the tape safely in my hands, I had planned to make an attempt in that sense. Thus, I must thank you for anticipating me and avoiding me the aggravation of an exhausting negotiation."

"No problem, Max. It was the least I could do to express my gratitude for trusting my word when I turned to you. Besides, I doubt that Cutteridge is the leader the Camarilla needs right now, so…"

"Yes, in relation to that, after I am done with LaCroix, I shall need to discuss certain matters with you. I trust that I will find you at your haven," he said, and it was basically an order. Still, right now I wanted nothing more than to rest, so it was a blessing in disguise.

"Yes, of course."

"This time, I shall remember to announce myself in advance," he half-joked, approaching LaCroix's door and I chuckled to hide my embarrassment, bowed and took my leave.

It was over, it was really over and I could feel all the tension of the last few days turning into exhaustion. All of my efforts had been focused on this, and now that I had accomplished it, I felt drained and disorientated.

It was the end of an era, the end of "innocence", and, once again, my life had been turned upside down and I had been able to pull myself out of it. Maybe it was for that reason that I felt unusually optimistic: it was only the end of the beginning, not the beginning of the end. At least, that was what I needed to believe.

A/N: This chapter was extremely difficult to write, because LaCroix is not really himself, and thus, not having some benchmark to work with, I had to try to make him somehow different without overturning him completely. Since the roles basically revert in this chapter, it was a real challenge. I do not know if I managed to… let me know what you think. In any case, do not worry, it will not be forever and I can't wait to write a more or less normally functioning LaCroix again.

An enormous thank you to sister-b, Olivia (you made perfectly sense and… I can tell you that Beckett is going to make an appearance… sooner or later), Loving Companion Cube, Topska (Strauss will not hesitate to show his displeasure in no uncertain terms, when he needs to, and it will not be pleasant for Irene… So you will get your wish really, really soon) and kizzy (no problem and… the Primogen may be mostly useless, but… well, it would be dangerous underestimating them…) for reviewing the last chapter. As always, you encourage me to no end.

Many, many thanks also to all the silent readers!

As always, a special thank you to Loving Companion Cube for all the support and empathy about the difficulties of writing a "different" LaCroix.