Disclaimer: I do not own the Last Remnant x.x That honor belongs to Squeenix.
Summary: An Emmy centric fic with hints of David x Emmy. 20 years has passed since the game's ending. Emmy dreamed of chasing after the ghost of her mother and mused over the fate of Athlum without the power of the Remnants.
This was based on my dream and looking back, I kinda wonder what in the name of David Nassau I was high on when I wrote this. I simply wrote what came to mind without thinking.
Warnings: Character death + slight spoilers + no yaoi *gets killed* + horrible English.
oOo
Sepia Portrait.
The world was painted in a shade of sepia. It looked like a scene from an old Victorian photograph – women with head shawls and long dresses hurrying around their town for work. Judging from the kind of clothing the townsfolk wore, she concluded that they must be the lower class for the material of their clothing were woven out of rough canvas, the very same material the slave auctioneers were using for their ropes on their products.
A line of slaves walked by her and she recognized one of them as the holder of Marion's blessing.
Why the girl whom she had regarded as a friend was suddenly being sold off like a mere animal?
Where were her parents?!
The dreamer picked up her pace and ran after her friend, attempting to save her and the other slaves. As she ran, she realized that everyone – even the slaves – were staring at her.
Everyone.
Everything. Was in a shade of sepia. A somber, rusty smell filled the air.
This wasn't Athlum at all.
Just where is this place?
Why was everyone staring at her?
It then hit her, the townsfolk and slaves were staring at her for she was a foreigner and she wasn't painted in the same sepia tones.
Very confusing.
She felt like an unwanted visitor in a museum, forced into an old moving photograph. She remembered wearing the very same thing her mother wore.
The person standing at a distant corner of the town wore the very same thing too. Unlike her, this person had her hair gathered up in a ponytail and she wore a matching hat. However, like the entire town, her figure was shrouded in the very same dusty sepia shade, blending her in with the rest of this strange 'photography'.
"Mother!" She broke into a sprint, an arm reaching out towards the ex-general.
Her mother's figure observed as her daughter sprinted towards her.
Just as she was about to reach her outstretched hand, her back burned with an intense pain.
oOo
Her dreams were all pretty much repetitive.
A sepia colored scene.
A medieval town not graced by Athlum's current level of technology.
She would be the only one standing and walking around town in full color.
Her mother would be there, standing at a distant. She would call out to her and ran towards her.
The first time she had that dream, her mother had slapped her hand away. She remembered grabbing onto her arm and the older Honeywell responded by throwing her daughter roughly to the dirt covered stone pavement.
People were staring and it was a form of dramatic entertainment for them.
Her mother would then disappear into the clearing.
She had lost count of how many times this dream repeated itself.
Last night was different though.
Her mother didn't push her away.
Emmy Honeywell was puzzled but believed that dreams were only dreams and her schedule left her with no time to ponder over such trivial things.
She liked to belief that her mother was peacefully resting in the after life and clinging onto her memory in such a way like that, was considered a dishonorable act.
So why can't I stop dreaming…?
The general ran a hand through her ash blonde hair after getting dressed for the day. The room was empty and quiet, sans for the sounds of the bustling city outside the castle walls.
She hated silence, especially in the room once belonging to Emmy's mother.
oOo
Her brain registered the hideous emotion of fear, numbing her ability to think or feel.
Time seem to have stopped as she gripped her weapon in her gloved hand, willing for the pain to go away.
The assassin fired several more poisoned arrows straight through her unprotected back. The first few arrows fired failed to penetrate through the 21 year old woman's brocade covered corset, forcing the unknown assassin to move closer to his target. Luck was probably on this assassin's side today for the whole town erupted into chaos the moment the young General gave out an uncharacteristic shriek of surprise.
And chaos is every assassin's best friend.
It would've probably been a typical run off the mill day for Emma 'Emmy' Honeywell II, a cheerful General whose family line had faithfully served Athlum for so many generations. Many would've known that the famed Honeywell family line was much feared for a various number for things, such as their prowess in the art of war.
Emmy's mother had been a much respected and feared woman and why shouldn't she be?
Emma Honeywell was a cold and unnervingly calm woman who had faced death head on without any regrets.
Or thoughts for her daughter, pretty much.
Emmy had truthfully been quite bitter that her mother never ever had time for her since the day she was born. Her entire life revolved around protecting the current marquis. The only time she had seen her mother was when she was running an errand in Balterossa.
"I will write back soon." Were the very last words that left her mother's mouth.
The letter her mother promised never did reach Emmy. The only thing that graced her ears was news of her death.
Slain in battle.
It was considered an honorable way to die for anyone in their family. Her father had pretty much died the same way and Emmy had already foreseen that she would pretty much meet her end in the very same manner one day.
But this went beyond all forms of logic.
The young Honeywell's training kicked in, attempting to chase after the assassin. The masked assassin was bold enough to allow Emmy to get close enough to him before releasing his final rain of arrows. The sharp metal tip of the arrow was surprisingly strong enough to pierce through the small gaps of Emmy's neck armor.
The whispering pain then exploded into something unbearable on Emmy's scale of pain tolerance as the poison and lacked of oxygen kicked in. The young general gurgled on her own blood. She was giddy with pain and the people around her were trying to assist her. Her grip on her sword slackened, causing the well polished blade to collide on the stone pavements with a defeated sound.
Her mouth parted, desperate for oxygen. She could taste the disgusting metallic flavor of her blood and she knew that she was badly wounded.
"Inform the marquis about this!"
"The herbs aren't kicking in!"
"Stitch her up!"
"Lady Emma, do hang in there!" Someone was pleading. "Help is on its way!"
The world around her gradually darkened and soon, she felt, heard and saw no more.
oOo
How long has it been?
She had no idea why those words came out. Perhaps, she just had the random urge to voice something out. After all, Emmy was never the kind to keep her feelings all bottled up for long. The last thing she remembered was the assassination attempt at the town square.
Not that she was surprised. This wasn't the first time someone had attempted to assassinate a member of the Honeywell family for a various number of unexplained reasons.
So here, she found herself back in that all too familiar town. This time, the town was no longer in a shade of sepia and it made her worried.
What could it mean?
She had woken up and found herself on a stiff bed in a simple inn. The people in town refused to speak to her no matter how polite she had been to them and it left her wondering if she had done anything to unintentionally offend them.
She strode around town and immediately understood that she was dreaming. Things that happened in this town went beyond all forms of logic.
But there was only one thing in this damn town that made sense.
Her very own mother.
Nightfall never did reach the town, nor did sunrise. It was forever locked up under the heated glare of the afternoon sun which made Emmy lost track of time. Exhaustion finally kicked in and she finally returned to inn where she woke up in.
When her gloved fingers pushed open the door, she was greeted with the sight of the young marquis whom she had fallen in love with a couple of years ago. Taking a few steps forward, she discovered herself back in Lord David's throne room in Athlum.
But Athlum was now in a shade of sepia.
Things were starting to make sense now and Emmy was praying that this wasn't true.
The other generals were having a conversation with the young marquis and it revolved around her.
"Lord David!" Emmy raced forward and immediately gasped in surprise when she went through his body just like a ghost.
"We did all we could." The healers looked extremely apologetic.
The world around Emmy's soul came crashing down as David's gaze shifted to the corpse belonging to the last family member of the Honeywell clan.
oOo
Keeping her head down, she wandered through the town again. For all she knew, this really was purgatory but it matter not. She could still feel the burning pain in her throat and chest. She remembered how it felt when the arrows struck her down.
So this is how I met my end. Perhaps, this is for the best. Emmy mused.
20 years had passed since the Remnants were destroyed. People were starting to eliminate the history of the Remnants from the script of the scholars. The Remnants was starting to be a myth and the younger generation even believed that it had been a tale used by the politicians of Athlum, to install fear upon the rivaling countries.
Perhaps, it was better that way.
The dream Rush Sykes had dreamed of, was nothing but a mere fairytale. Mankind, with or without the Remnants, would always be swimming in their own doom.
A familiar shadow greeted her at the other end of the town. Throughout the stream of busy people, Emmy could recognize the unmistakable figure of her mother.
This time, she knew that she was no longer dreaming.
Her mother was walking towards her.
"Mother…." She broke into a sprint and reached out for her mother's hand.
This time, nothing was there to interrupt the long awaited reunion between mother and daughter.