[b]Adriana[/b]

Paranoia is a hard thing to get away from, particularly when you've been raised on it your whole life. When you've been taught to treat everyone as a threat or an opportunity - not to trust, not as company to just enjoy. When you've been taught that building your walls high is the only way to survive.

What do you know about Almira? With all your sources, your power and resources, do you have any better insight as to how she treats her children beyond what's in the tabloids? Can you even imagine what it's like? To be told you're an idiot for every small slip, that you're stupid whenever you just can't do something, that you're worthless if you can't be of value to your mother's plans?

Think then, how it feels for [i]every. single. piece.[/i] of praise you've [i]ever [/i]received to only have been doled out, sparsely, on those few moments where you've done something that literally anyone else would have found impossible. For every little bit of validation to be locked behind tricks, traps and tests. Everything designed to withhold the [i]one [/i]thing any other child would receive naturally - all in the name of forcing a girl to grow up on a preordained path.

What were your parents like, Adriana? Were they better? Or do you understand the sheer scale of damage a parent can inflict on their child's psyche when they want to?

Isabelle's paranoia is a [i]deeply [/i]conditioned response, as is her competitiveness, arrogance and her fear. These emotions run a path with very well worn grooves. And one woman's fingerprints are all over it. 

That said, all of this simply emphasises just how important it is when that paranoia just ... slips away. 

You can see it - the surprise, the widening of her eyes as you [i]actually[/i] stumble. That's the moment that she realises you're truly finding it hard to balance - not just acting, not tricking her. The moment her hands go from testing your reflexes to holding you upright earnestly.

She frowns in puzzlement, and then in genuine worry as her own feet stumble. 

"What in the ..." she whispers, as the two of you stop dancing - only to sway unsteadily in the middle of the dance floor.

Her hand goes to her forehead, her eyes refocus - as if seeing you more clearly. No. Not just you. But your dress. A flicker of horror even, as she realises what is being done to you against your will.

She places a hand on your shoulder, steadying you both, and closes her eyes. 

[i]Click.[/i]

[i]Click. Click.[/i]

A soft whirring noise comes to your ears as a trio of drones take flight behind her. They're small - each about the size of a fist, but as they float towards you you can see just how much care has gone into their creation. Their shells are polished smooth, their control joints move seamlessly, precisely. They're definitely not mass produced, but are the kind of machines one could spend months building by hand.

They circle around you gracefully, carefully. Like a shoal of fish. Or planets entering into orbit. And with them comes a gentle breeze of fresh air, pushing away the intoxicating miasma that you didn't even realise was engulfing you.

A few deep breaths later, Isabelle opens her eyes. You never even saw her reach for a remote.

"Are ... are you okay?" she asks.

And in that moment you can see what she truly loves: It's not the arena, it's not companies and planets and money. It's not power and planets or politics. Those are things she does. Things she's been raised to do.

She craves validation. She craves love. She craves touch and being held. But they're not what she loves either. They're just things that have been denied her for too long.

No, what she loves - what she [i]truly [/i]loves - are things like these drones. Building things. Creating things. [i]Discovering [/i]things. It's the love that makes a little girl build a model of the known galaxy, just so she can dream of the edges that are still to be explored. The kind that make a woman spend days tweaking a drone just to make a pretty dress prettier, in a way nobody has before. The kind that drives someone to take a prisoner, when your ruler has told you not to, just so they can learn more about their opponent's culture. The kind that is trying, [i]so hard[/i], to find her own spaces, her own things, free of her mother's influence - but who just doesn't have the strength to do it alone.

Yes, hers is a spark that keeps getting crushed. But you'd be a fool to blame Isabelle for that.

The question is, what will you do with this insight Adriana? Has this put you off her - will you step back and let her fend for herself? Will you just 'see how she goes' - and in doing so, subject her to yet more tests? Will you be just another person who turns their back on her, withholding the things she truly needs?

Or will you help her too?