Hey all! This is my *first* "Last Remnant" fanfic, and the first on ! Woo! This series centers on David Nassau, the Marquis of Athlum, and his generals. The two prologues will fill-in his backstory as mentioned in the game, and from there....who knows? ;) Please R&R!!
-kmsaum-
Prologue One: Flowers and Flames
4 years old
"…my Lord?" Emma Honeywell stood at the entrance to the garden, watching her ruler with worried eyes. Beside her, a small blond-haired boy clutched at her skirts, hiding half behind her to peer past at his father.
Aurien, Marquis of Athlum stood facing his late wife's body, laid for viewing beneath the gazebo in her garden. The Lady's prize purple daisies sprung up around her in droves, bright and vivid in mockery of the near-colorless porcelain of her skin. The sky, visible above the high walls, was washed a bloody red-gold by the sinking sun. The golden trigger-Remnant Kellendros hung limply in his right hand.
"My Lord," that was Torgal, tall and dark in the waning light. His gravelly voice was expressionless. "My Lord, the people of Athlum are waiting to pay their respects." The Marquis was silent, unhearing. The only note that showed his recognition was that he stepped aside, crushing a cluster of baby's breath beneath his boot. Torgal motioned to the Athlumian soldiers flanking him, an honor guard decked out in the teal and maroon of the royal family. The four of them aligned on both sides of the Lady's casket and, silently and at Torgal's heals, bore her away to the throne room one final time.
The blond-haired boy buried his face in Emma's hip as the procession passed. She thought that perhaps he was crying; once Torgal and the soldiers had gone, however, the grey-hazel eyes that emerged to continue looking at the silent man were dry. Emma noticed a purple flower clutched in one tiny hand.
"Those flowers were your mother's pride and joy," she told him, and the four-year-old looked at her. Emma smiled, "-right after you, of course," she added, voice kind. David nodded, still silent. She ruffled his hair.
"Joy?" the Marquis asked suddenly, voice harsh. He was still staring at the empty garden. The Kellendros rose, its barrel glowing gold as the sky above turned purple. "Joy?" The barrel began to spin, showering the path and buds with sparks of glittering flame.
"Lord Aurien!" Emma shouted. When the glistening orb forming in the barrel of the Remnant showed no signs of abating, the general turned her back and forced David to the ground. "Down!" she crouched over him, shielding the Marquis's son with her body, as light and heat erupted behind her.
Every plant and tree in the Lady's garden burst into flame; dark clouds rose up in columns, choking out the sunset. The smoke that billowed over Lady Emma was thick and pungent, the smoke of plants burned before withered—the black consumption of life into fire. She looked up, eyes stinging, to see Lord Aurien standing at her side.
"Joy--there is no such thing left in this world." He disappeared then into the hallway and smoke. Rising, still trying to keep David shielded, Emma called an Art into her mind and threw it at the flames. A massive gust of wind issued forth from her, whipping the acrid gases up and away from the castle.
The fire died after just moments, having burned through its scarce fuel, and left behind smoldering debris and charred pathway stone. Assured that the immediate threat had passed, Emma crouched again to address her young charge.
"Young master—David," he had been looking past her at the blackened remains of his mother's garden; the woman grabbed his chin and gently-though forcefully-made him look her in the eye. "You must disregard my Lord's words—that was grief talking. There is always something in the world left, some glimmer that will make living worthwhile. Do you understand me?" He was four—she didn't really expect him to—but the somber eyes met hers and he nodded. "I mean it: you must understand there will always, always be something in this world worth fighting for." Again, he nodded. He wasn't attempting to look past her anymore.
Such a solemn child, Emma mused to herself, -but bright also. He will rule us well, one day. She heard hurried footfalls then and, smoothing David's hair in the process, straightened.
"What's goin' on out there?!" a voice roared, the overtone of panic obvious. The remnant wafts of had reached the main hall.
"Blocter." The Yama was only 9 years old, but already stood as high as Emma's shoulder. Seeing her, he immediately stood up straight and saluted.
"Ma'am!"
"Emma, did the Marquis..?" that was Pagus, hidden behind Blocter's massive bulk. He stepped around the youth, covering his nose with a kerchief.
"Yes." She left it at that. "Blocter, take the young master back to his rooms. Stay with him for a bit."
"Yes, Lady Emma," the Yama bowed a little to the general and to the Marquis's son, fist over heart. David walked out of the hall then, Blocter on his heels, and said nothing.
Pleeeeeease R&R!!!!!! Please?