OOC: Yes, I'll keep saying it. I love you guys for reviewing. Love Love Love Love Love! And, for everyone who said Esmerelda was becoming Mary Sue, I hope this chapter reverses that notion. Thanks for the critique guys.
She applied the last touch of rogue on her fruity lips while a maid set her hair in a loose bun, held by a jade comb. Another knelt at her feet, massaging her toes with oil made fragrant with jasmine and sage. Jewels lay astray on the floor before her, emeralds, rubies, pearls, diamonds, and a plethora of dazzling stones that she had tossed aside in disdain. "Amelia, Evelina, leave." She picked up a string of ocean pearls and placed to around her neck, then flung it across them room, where it struck a vase and came apart.
"Useless, isn't it? To break so easily…just like you." She looked towards the curtained window, before which stood a man with the face of an angel. His golden locks tumbled beneath his shoulders, and his shirt, with about three buttons undone, revealed the chest of a Renaissance sculpture. However, the man's angelic face was contorted; he was obviously in the grip of pain. And when one looked at him, one could understand the reason. His right arm was non-existent, replaced by stump of flesh which was wrapped in gauzy bandages. He was almost as beautiful as Venus of Milos, but his face held no peace, only agony, and humiliation, defeat.
"It seems darling Aisha hasn't lost her little tricks. To have torn off your arm in one swipe. I did underestimate her, it seems." She looked back at the mirror and began to apply gold dust on her milky skin, brushing it gently, giving her an unearthly faerie like glow. "However, you seem to have not only lost your efficiency, but also your pride." She picked up a finer brush and started touching her eyelids with the same dust, only finer. "You ran, like a pathetic dog with its tail between its legs."
The man remained silent. Nothing was to be said. He had failed his goddess. It did not matter that he has used the greatest of his skills; the woman of emeralds had fended him off as if an insect. She had delivered numerous blows to his body, and yet, there had been no satisfaction. He felt an involuntary shudder invade his nerves as he remembered the brutality with which she had pinned him against the wall, the madness, the animal insanity of her eyes as she had said, "Now you give me a souvenir of my victory, little dog" before ripping off his arm. He wasn't able to scream, her hand had remained on his lips like an iron clamp. He had been foolish to think he could defeat the woman who, without a drop of Rossetti blood in her veins, had taken command of the entire bloodline and had bent it to her desires and whims. He kept his eyes down.
"You really thought she was that simple, my dear." His goddess now examined the beauty of her reflection. "Allow me to demonstrate that she is not."
She picked up the remote that lay on the little table beside the mirror along with a few of the trinkets she had deemed worthy of placing on her bodice. With a flick, she switched on the plasma television placed into the mauve painted north wall. The black screen blared into life, showing news reports of Esteemed Heiress of Italian Aristocratic Family in Hospital. The reporter outlined the situation, which spoke of the barbaric attack on heiress and renowned art enthusiast and expert, Esmerelda Gabrielle Rossetti, who had lapsed into a coma and had to be admitted the emergency unit of one of Manhattan's finest hospitals. She switched news channels, each of them telecasting the same headlines.
"Not only has she sent you back with a missing limb to show me the futility of my efforts, she has staged a show that ensures that the sympathy of the entire world showers upon her. I wonder how she did it, perhaps she asked Concetta to injure her well enough…However." His goddess' face hardened. "Now Mother and Father both know of this…" She rose, and switched off the television. "You have failed me so thoroughly, Ciro de Alberto. You have failed to be my knight."
Even in the midst of pain that tore his nerve endings to shreds, he knelt. He was meant to be her instrument, and as an instrument, as a weapon, he meant nothing He saw the floor, but could hear her soft footsteps advancing on the carpet. She stopped before him; he could see the hem of her dress, rimmed with gold. He could feel her soft hand on his shoulder, the one which no longer supported an arm. "Ciro de Alberto, you are no longer worthy of my patronage. I dismiss you from my service." He felt a blade of pain shoot into his chest, impaling his heart as if a rabid vampire. She bent, until her lips touched his left ear. "Don't let your blood stain my lovely carpet. I won't have you to clean up after me."
As she walked away, her mind wandered to possibilities of a new slave. Someone beautiful, undoubtedly, someone with intelligence, and yet charming. Someone who would be of use to her. A lovely smile crossed her face, as she knew the perfect man. "Neal Caffrey…"
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
Ok, this is a chapter to reveal a bit of Esmerelda's true nature and the deep animality within her "family". I know it doesn't have the WhiteCo charries, but I really wanted the Mary Sue image to be erased, because that really wasn't my intention from the beginning. I guess I just wanted her to spend some time with Neal and all…Living a fantasy, guys. Sorry messed. Next chapters will go back to copious amount of Neal. And this story stays about Neal. Trust me and keep reading, please. I'll be involving him with the Rossettis , as you can see. Please don't stop reading. Oh, and I won't be able to post before 31st because I have some more exams [pass subjects], but after that I'll be back for much more regular times. So, please bear with the delay. Thank you.