SotU2 Chpt 6

=Chapter 6=
==State of the Union - Book 2==
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Triad, Tharkad
Donegal Province, Lyran Alliance
15th November, 3064
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Kitsune Kurita had discovered the joy of snowmen - or more specifically of snow samurai. While he was quite creative in shaping snow into the shape of armour, swords had proven beyond his expertise and big pleading eyes hadn’t convinced his mother, his father or his uncle that he could be trusted with the decorative blades mounted on some of the Triad’s chambers - so he had to make do with curved branches. Despite this he was proud to show them off and Isis sat on a bench next to Omi as children ran and screamed at each other among the formation of snow samurai with joyful abandon.
“So there it is,” Isis wrapped explaining her dilemma. “I’m not sure what I should do.”
Omi nodded thoughtfully, not answering immediately.
“One thing I have realized is that simply staying with Victor’s staff or at Peter’s court isn’t an option… or rather, they aren’t options I wish to take. I’d simply be… well, what some of the extreme radicals say about the noble class: a parasite, surviving only on the back of others.”
Omi glanced sideways at that point. “They say such things in the League?”
“Oh yes. And here in the Federated Commonwealth.” she told Omi
“Remarkable.” The Kurita shook her head slightly. “It occurs to me that you last left Atreus not so very long after we first met. A little more than a year later?”
“More or less,” agreed Isis. She’d been almost seventeen when she’d been invited to Outreach along with the other rulers and heirs of the Inner Sphere. “I was younger… less mature, then than I thought I was.”
“Yes. You’ve grown considerably, and I suspect many on Atreus still envisage the younger you, rather than the woman you’ve grown into.”
The younger woman thought for a moment. “I suppose that's true… the latter, at least. I’m not sure I’ve changed all that much.”
“From my perspective, you have. I suspect neither your father nor your cousin quite understand who they are inviting. Where that may lead, I could not tell you. But I diverge from your implied question.” Omi pursed her lips. “Setting aside whatever you have been offered in this specific case, Isis, what do you want? In all the universe, what is it that you desire?”
Isis blinked at the question. “Anything?”
“Yes. Not what you’ve wanted in the past, not constrained to any reasonable expectations, not even what you might want in the future. What, right now, would satisfy you?”
She blinked again and frowned in thought. “I… I’m not sure. I hadn’t thought about in those terms.”
“Take your time.” She received a gentle smile from Omi. “This isn’t a test, but when you know the answer, you’ll -”
There was a cry of alarm and surprise from Kit as, ducking under someone’s snowball, the little boy failed to get his feet back under him and went sprawling. He didn’t seem hurt at first glance from Isis, but his face was reddening - possibly at the laughter of the other children.
“Excuse me.” Omi rose and strode over towards her son, a mildly concerned look on her face.
Although she wouldn’t be seen, Isis nodded understanding and turned the question over in her head. What did she want? Well, perhaps see what she had wanted before and see if it was still relevant?
Her father’s love or at least attention? Well that was a bad joke, given he’d never met her and his replacement considered her more an obligation than an attachment. And a tool, of course. Although to be fair, most dynastic lords and ladies had to consider their children in that light to some extent.
The attention of the other heirs, back when she was on Outreach? She’d got that alright, but not in ways she’d expected or desired. Being a teenager might explain her behavior but not excuse it, even to herself. She should have raised her goals to being respected by them… from the way Victor had treated her since Mogyorod… not her arrival but that night with the assassin, that was something worth having. Although respect from a mere handful of people… well, again she’d set her sights too low but it was too late now.
That gave her the niggle of an idea but before that she faced the third thing she’d wanted, the goal she’d followed for most of a decade. Sun-Tzu. No. Just no.
So, what else? Nothing seemed worth mentioning, which was a sad thing after almost thirty years. Her regrets were events impossible to reverse so however open-ended Omi’s question had been, Isis discarded them.
Returning to her thought of a moment ago, she considered it. Raising her goals. Aspire to respect, not just attention. Affection, perhaps in time. She couldn’t help but envy Omi a little for the bound that she and Victor clearly shared - not that she intended to try to raise her goals from Sun-Tzu in that way. Setting aside that it would be immensely satisfying to see Sun-Tzu’s face on learning she’d married Victor, it would be a rotten thing to do to Omi and far too much like the ass she’d made of herself on Outreach. Anyway, Victor had to all practical purposes given up his throne to be with Omi. Isis doubted she’d even register in comparison.
Still, it gave her something she wanted almost as much as respect. She wanted that sort of relationship, someone in her life she could share experiences with. It couldn’t be that hard, could it? The vast majority of adult humans managed relations and at least she was past the years of immaturity.
There were certainly plenty of men around. She’d not really been looking, the wounds of Sun-Tzu’s rejection had been too raw, but perhaps it was time to set that aside.
It didn’t really relate to whether she went back to the League. Even if she was penniless, many noble families would overlook that for the chance to add ‘-Marik’ to their surnames and have a claim, however tenuous, against the Captain-General’s throne. It would be an awful reason to get married though, and not the sort of relationship she wanted at all.
And, being honest with herself, it would irk her, Isis realized. She didn’t want to stay a poor relation. To be someone pushed around by those with power. She wanted… not so much power as much as the independence that it could confer. Right now she had only such freedoms as those Peter Steiner-Davion granted her, because without his protection there was no assurance that SAFE or someone else might whisk her away.
And power… didn’t necessarily translate to respect, but it could contribute.
Something that William Blane had said to her once came to mind. It had been during one interminable ball on Atreus where the then only-recently-ComStar Precentor of Gibson had taken a moment to speak to her. It had been right before the engagement to Sun-Tzu and in hindsight, Blane had probably been more focused on putting himself forward as the head of the forming Word of Blake than anything Isis herself said, but remaining at least a little friendly with the then heir presumptive.
She’d brashly asked him about the still only rumoured tales of ComStar’s deep scheming and many plots over the centuries and Blane had chuckled (at least in her recollection, a little patronizingly). ‘My dear girl, if the Succession Wars have taught us anything, it’s that no one takes you seriously unless you’re at least trying to take over the Inner Sphere.’
Not that she particularly wanted the Inner Sphere - or even the Free Worlds League - but there was some merit to it. Property and a title would give far more weight to her words than her surname alone.
“It’s not as if I’d even have to govern the place,” she mused to herself.
“I didn’t quite catch that.” Omi enquired with a mild look.
Omi looked up and saw her friend returning to the bench. Behind her Kit was playing again as if the fall had never happened. “Oh, sorry. I was thinking about your question.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything personal, but has it helped at all?” asked Omi
“Yes, I think it has.” Isis told her.
Omi nodded but didn’t say anything, just turning and sitting.
After a moment, partly to fill the silence and partly to test the waters, Isis added: “Perhaps it’s shallow, but the idea of having a home, money and a title does appeal to me. Peter’s very kind about supporting me, but I’d rather stand on my own feet.”
“That’s quite understandable. And while you’re certainly welcome to come back to Luthien with me, the same would be true there.”
“Quite.” Isis smiled slightly. “And I can’t ask either of you for a duchy.”
“I don’t even have one of my own,” Omi told her indulgently. “but if you decide to take one and I ever visit the Free Worlds League, perhaps I can impose on you?”
“Of course.” answered Isis
They sat a moment longer in a less expectant silence and then Omi leaned over and scooped up a handful of snow, molding it in her gloved hands.
“What are you doing?” Isis asked
“Making a snowball?” she answered innocently.
“Why?” she questioned her Kurita friend
“To throw it, of course.” Omi glanced at Isis with a serene smile then eyed a gate into the yard. She weighed the snowball carefully and then flung it up on a high arc towards the gate as it began to swing open.
The snowball splattered on the shoulder of Victor Steiner-Davion’s immaculate Field Marshal’s uniform and he paused in the doorway. The short prince swept the yard with sharp eyes, lingering on Omi for a moment - Isis was amused to see that the Kurita folded her hands to hide the traces of snow on her gloves - and then at the children.
“Who threw that?” Victor asked mildly.
The children all looked at each other, clearly mystified. Kit even hid the snowball in his hand behind his back for a moment.
“Well then.” And then the conqueror of the Clans reached over to a snowbank and began deliberately packing his own snowball together. “This means war.” He didn’t manage to throw his own snowball before one of the other children had the boldness to throw their own at him.
Isis gave Omi a disbelieving look and got an amused look of satisfaction in return.
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