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She threw open the long draping curtains to her room and surveyed the mansion grounds below not that there was much visible this early in the morning. Save for a few trees peaking through in the distance, there wasn't anything visible through the fog that blanketed the landscape. She debated opening the window and stepping out but finally decided against it, choosing instead to begin her strict morning routine.

She sat down primly on the edge of the cushioned seat facing a large dressing table that was dominated by a three faced mirror. Joining her hands on her bare knees, she regarded herself in the mirror, content to simply to search her eyes for a glimpse of her soul. She had begun to wonder if it was somehow tarnished now because of what she sacrificed in order to get where she was, or perhaps in light of what she was going to sacrifice in order to remain there.

Knowing that such thoughts were not worthy of her, she took an ornate brush from it's place on the dresser and automatically began working it softly through her long silken hair, each stroke precise and practiced from countless hours of doing nothing else. At the edge of her consciousness, she could hear the growing chatter from the others escaping from slumber about the house, their thoughts loud, obvious and transparent, their hidden fears easily discernable in her mind's eye.

She was one of the premiere psychics in the world, a shining star even among the increasingly growing numbers of mutants that appeared everyday with new and wondrous powers. Her determination and willpower had allowed her to gain mastery of her abilities, allowing her to act as a psychic scalpel or mental sledgehammer depending on what the situation demanded.

The emergence of her gift a few years ago had naturally terrified her as the thoughts of others shouted out to her, intruded upon her every moment without respite or mercy. She knew she would have descended into madness had it not been for the intervention of an old friend of her father's, who had developed the methods that had allowed her to reign in her gift and to even develop new applications for it.

Now that which had originally terrified her only thrilled her heart. She felt that there was nothing beyond her reach, no mind she could not touch, no will she could not bend. Her parents, who couldn't possibly understand what she was any more were still only too happy for her to stay with her new benefactor and his growing brood of young mutants. From each of them, he only asked for loyalty or to perform various tasks for him, something that all of them were only to happy to do in gratitude to him.

And from her he expected most of all. Every day he reminded her that what she accomplish would be of paramount importance for them and all those like them.

As she switched the motion of the brush to the other side of her head, her free hand sneaked forward by itself, a small flexing of muscle allowing a small key to fall into her palm from where it had been secured to a thin silver bracelet about her wrist. Taking the key she opened a small drawer and removed one of the small few items that was contained within.

It was a slightly worn polaroid, taken using some kind of long-range telephoto lense. The picture itself was clear enough despite the range, a profile of a boy sitting beneath a tree reading a book. In truth he was a boy no longer but on the cusp of manhood, his athletic frame discernable as he sat captured for eternity engrossed in the ancient tome on his knees . She imagined she could make out a small smile though it was impossible to be sure. She wished she could see his eyes beneath his neat dark hair but a pair of distinct sunglasses hid them from all prying eyes.

"Scott Summers," she murmured softly, the name sounding akin to music to her.

She knew everything about him, knew things that he probably didn't know himself. Mundane things like the book he was reading in the photo was his favorite and that he read that same copy every spring without fail. Private things like that the car he drove was bought with money from his parents' will and that was why he treasured it beyond what a boy normally would do such a car, albeit an extremely fast sports model. She knew what classes he had chosen for his final year of school that started later today. She knew everything.

She placed the brush back on the table in the exact same position she had taken it from. Raising the picture she traced his from with her hand, careful not to let her slender finger touch the image for fear of damaging it.

She believed that she might love him.

If any of the others knew this they would have laughed at her, mocked her perhaps. Little Miss Perfect with a schoolgirl crush on the main man's pet project. She found it a little hard to believe herself. Something as ethereal as love could only get in the way of what she had to do but somehow it had crept up on her all the same.

She felt that he was from the same mold as the romantic heroes he read so avidly about; self sacrificing, fiercely loyal and almost naively noble, how could she not find herself drawn to him. Thinking of him like this brought the slightest hint of a blush to her pale face and she quickly banished the thoughts, welcome and all as they were.

An alarm went off somewhere in the building and she knew that it was almost time. Soon the others would be up and about and any privacy she might have would be gone. She carefully slipped the photo back in the drawer and locked it once more. Taking a number of plain hair clips she carefully gathered her hair into a bun, ensuring that not one strand was out of place. Her task completed, she rose gracefully from the seat, and walked to her large bed that was seemed almost too big for the room. The outfit that she had selected for the first day of the school year was carefully laid out on top of it, each garment folded neatly next to each other.

Today she merely had to be presentable and functional which this rather plain outfit was; A light sandy brown skirt that would stop just below her knees, a plain white shirt and a dull gray sweater with nondescript but comfortable shoes. Garbed in these she would blend in amongst the student body, which is all that she wished to accomplish for the time being. Later when she was comfortable and settled in, she would start wearing some of the more interesting choices that her wardrobe contained.

She slipped out of her robe and dressed silently, her mind mapping out the day. Once finished she returned to the mirror and to double check her appearance. Retrieving a pair of nondescript glasses, She was ready.

Ready to accomplish the goal that Nathaniel Essex had set out for her.

She would not fail, she could not. Scott Summers would surrender his heart to her, Emma Frost.

To be continued....