Jake had never said he had more right, although he certainly believed he did. He also didn't agree Ben's profile was very impressive. The Academy had been funded by Kerr, the Sacrament, and Jake. Ben was only teaching the Lovebite class because he had no other skills to teach. Jake had heard he'd went to all that trouble just to turn the project over to Ichabod. Restoring the old Oligarchy chambers was another Kerr accomplishment he imagined Ben was taking credit for. Jake could give Ben ambition, but everything else of note was because he was a pretty boy who'd met the right people. Jake had fought wars, defeated actual enemies at the gates of this city. He'd overseen the creation of new vampires, pets, domiciles and turfs. He kept the thin-bloods safe from the Brujah, who also hated the caitiff, and they were mostly still trying to figure out what the clans were. He'd quelled the demon uprisings in the west, and brought trials to the city as a way to make government more fair. The Harpy, Keeper, and Sheriff had given the district needed infrastructure, and it was more than other district had as far as leadership. The only other district who kept as wide a council as Jake was the Sacrament.
However, he knew Damien was right. Ancients would play all that off, and still say, "but aren't they the same." Morons. Eternity didn't breed intelligence it seemed, or perspective. He decided not to argue the point with Damien. He was more or less just pointing out a fact, not judging it or agreeing with it. Jake still felt being the incumbent was an advantage, but decided to bring it later. Damien's next observation earned him a hateful stare. The Black Prince was Jake, and he hated that they were seen as such different people. Then again, Jake used the Black Prince to avoid looking vulnerable. If you were a rude asshole, who wore all black and mocked the system you represented then you were underestimated and dismissed. It had served him to be underestimated and hated for a time. If he acted and dressed like all the other pretty little bloodsuckers in town then wouldn't he be just another pretty little bloodsucker? Was just Jake enough?
Lucky for Damien, Tyler had told him the same, and his conversation with the smug "folk hero" replayed in his head. The little guitar strumming shit had more or less told him drop the title or prepare to fight for the Anarchs. That was a fight Jake knew he would lose. He sighed, and softened his expression, and it was his turn to show visible frustration mixed in with practiced control. Finally, he replied.
"As it happens, I have been given that advice by a respected colleague recently. He told me it alludes to my clan's worst moments, not our best. I... reluctantly... agree. Maybe you don't remember what it's like to be the pup at the grown up's table, but the Black Prince was a way to run the table instead of being run by it. If ancient vampires had to bend the knee then they couldn't question or overrule me. Besides, I was born nobility. It's hard to let the old ways die."
He seemed to grow sad at accepting that there really was no nobility anymore. He'd been born too late to ever know what it was to be a real monarch. His small court here was all he'd ever had. His mortal family lost their titles and lands, and he'd walked away from ever being a Camarilla prince. To abandon the Black Prince was to abandon who he'd been for almost three hundred years. Jake was scared he wasn't ready. Then again, Damien had inadvertently said that the man he'd been tonight was his ticket to victory. Who was that man? Jake wasn't sure he knew, but those were existential mind fucks for after Damien left.
"I'll do it," he finally said. "I just hope I have enough in me to make up for it," he said absently, speaking a thought out loud by mistake.
