Don't Speak Her Name!

Robin couldn't remember the last time she'd been so soaked, nor could she remember caring less. Her cloak had doubled in weight, making her long for the days she'd spent in pegasus knight armor. Her hair had become humid as it clung to her face and neck, adding to her growing feeling that she was suffocating. Her heart was already racing, and she already felt her chest feeling it was about to collapse in on her. Gods, she had let the Exalt die...

Rain fell from the deep gray skies in sheets, a phenomenon that as far as she knew wasn't common to desert lands. Surely it was the heavens, the gods, and all their angels weeping in sympathy for mankind. The world had been robbed of one of the purest of souls.

From the front of the army, now reduced to a mass of fleeing Ylisseans who happened to carry weapons on the brink of breaking, Khan Basilio called back to them. He had to scream to be head over footsteps and raindrops, but Robin had a feeling that as he urged them to run faster, to keep going, he would've been screaming anyway.

Beside her, Chrom had stopped, his head turning slightly to the side as though he wanted to look back towards the capital. Robin felt a pang of remorse run through her stomach as she pleaded with him to continue. Going back was no option... For as much as she knew they all wanted to, it was out of the question. They needed to get everyone they still could to safety.

Within a mile of where the West Khan had said the caravan was that would smuggle them out, they found themselves standing between cliffs, whose tops as well as the paths between them were littered with enemy soldiers. Robin's heart felt as though it would sink straight down into the depths of the earth. Had they not suffered enough? Was the death of a leader, a sister, a friend not enough? Could the world not allow them at the very least an easy escape so that they may mourn peace?

"Ylisseans!" called a voice from far ahead, though its owner couldn't be seen. "I offer you mercy! Surrender to me now and live! Emmeryn would not have wished for this to come to bloodshed."

"Don't speak her name!" Chrom screamed back to the voice, rage and pain filling every word.

"Your rage is justified, Prince Chrom. But the meaning of your sister's final sacrifice was not lost on me. I suspect many Plegians who heard her final words would say the same. If you lay down your weapons, I vow to protect you as best I can."

How could they expect to be trusted after everything they had done? After the sheer pain that barbaric madman they called a king had just put on them? After starting the war that lead the Exalt to cut the thread of her own life?

No. They would fight.

"Frederick! Take Lissa and go!"

"No! No! Robin, please!"

The tactician pushed through the pain of hearing the young girl's wails as she grabbed her by the waist and quickly hoisted her up into Frederick's arms. Her tears fell harder. The knight placed her on the back of his horse as her arm stretched out, reaching out and screaming for her brother who couldn't hear her. He was too busy fending off enemies as his sister's safety was secured.

"Vaike! Maribelle! Follow after them and back them up," Robin ordered. She had no time to stop and think about how wrong it felt to be commanding an army she had failed. Her only thoughts now were how to keep yet another person from falling through her fingers. Especially another royal. "I don't want a finger laid upon Lissa! Understand?"

Three heads responded with nods, the fourth buried itself in the back of Frederick's armor as its owner's shaking hand clutched his shoulder.

"Go!"

Not a moment after they'd left, a squelch in the mud alerted her to a soldier approaching her from the right. His lance tip was pointed straight at her and quickly making for her abdomen, though she whipped her spell book out almost as though by reflex.

The rain weakened her magic, and she saw Miriel's barely-burning blazes ahead were facing the same effect. Though it was luckily still enough to shatter the soldier in an explosion of light. The sound of thunder from her spell somehow seemed to accompany the rain as the sharp contrast between lightning and darkness sent spots in her vision.

Her way was clear now. It was time to move forward.

It wasn't until she opened her mouth to try to call Chrom ahead with her that panic rose in her stomach. He wasn't there.

She hadn't assigned anyone to look after him! He couldn't just run off on his own; he knew better than that. Robin cursed him and called his name once, twice, but her only answer was the sound of cries of war and bodies around her falling in the mud. Her comrades and her enemies surrounded her, flooding her vision, and she knew nothing remained but to fight her way through – quickly – and find the prince. He couldn't face the enemy all alone; They couldn't afford to lose him as well. Gods protect him until I find him.

Robin took off running between the cliffs, firing a spell here and there against approaching enemies. The other Shepherds could be seen and heard around her: Cordelia's pegasus flying overhead – an ominous white against a gray sky, Stahl fighting off a lancer as his horse seemed on the brink of collapse from exhaustion, little Nowi breathing the most ferocious fire she could as Libra made sure she didn't get too hurt. Robin caught up with Tharja as well, still not trusting her wholeheartedly. She wasn't entirely convinced she hadn't had something to do with leading them into this ambush in the first place. In passing, she grabbed the woman's elbow and shoved her into the arms of the nearest Shepherd, who happened to be Gaius. "Watch her!" she'd told him before continuing her run forward.

There truly was no order this battle. There were so few plans. Any passer-by would've thought the Shepherds were just a band of well-armored civilians fighting for their lives rather than highly trained and organized royal soldiers. Any passer-by would've been partially right... This was no battle; battle was order, and it was fought with resolve by soldiers fighting for a cause they believed in. This was nothing more than a desperate struggle being fought through a sea of grief and remorse felt by both sides, and every man or woman on the field was fighting more out of emotion and necessity than any belief. This theory was evidenced by the mutters of regret from each soldier who struck down someone opposite him, and most especially by the mutters of the name "Emmeryn." The very mention of her sent overwhelming pangs of heartbreak through Robin's stomach and chest, but she knew if she didn't keep fighting her way forward, she might eventually hear the soldiers whispering Chrom and Lissa's names in addition.

Noticing Cordelia dipping low to take out an axe-fighter up ahead, Robin quickened her pace and called out the woman's name. With a swing of her lance, the pegasus knight weakened the enemy soldier before looking up at Robin, who finished the man off with a strike of lightning.

Without words, Robin stuck her foot in one of the stirrups of Cordelia's saddle, nudging the redhead's foot out of the way. She gave her the command to fly again, clutching onto the pegasus' side as they rose into the air. Surely, she'd be able to find the prince from up there.

The whole area looked as dreadful as she'd expected, worse almost from such a high view. Bodies lay everywhere, many even in Ylissean blue. Flashes of fire showed her Miriel, back to back with Virion and struggling to fight off a mass of enemies surrounding them. Young Ricken was protected by Gregor as he attempted to defend himself against a wyvern. Sumia supported Sully by the shoulder, as far from the action as she could get, before a flash of white light came from Libra across the cliffs to heal them. Frederick was mowing down enemies like Robin had never seen, taking care that no one came near Lissa, as Vaike back him up and Maribelle fired weak magic and attempted to keep everyone healed. Everywhere was chaos, struggle, pain...

And rage.

Her eyes spotted Chrom, a fair distance ahead of them. He was plowing his way through the opposite forces without stop: one enemy fell, and he turned around a cut down another in a single swing. She could almost hear his yelling from up in the sky.

"Cordelia," she yelled over the wind and the sound of the storm. "Down there! To Chrom!"

He was vaguely aware of Falchion piercing through a body and entering mud as the last of the throng of barbarians sent after him was wiped out.

His shoulders heaved with exhaustion, but moreso with fury. Any time he stopped and let his mind have a moment to look around him, to think about where he was, what he was doing, what had happened, he felt his shoulders shake with the effort of holding back bitter tears. He needed to be stronger. He needed to make it through this battle, to wipe out the Plegian scum who had taken his sister from him.

And just like that, the rage was back.

He withdrew his sword from the lifeless soldier beneath him and was ready to turn his attention back to the battlefield. The rain was so thick it was almost turning the mudscape in front of him white. He could barely see anything through the heavy sheets falling from the sky, but ahead of him, a figure caught his eye. She was brighter and more visible than all the enemy soldiers and all his comrades despite being further away on the top of a cliff.

Her green robes almost seemed to glow as she stood on the cliff's edge. Chrom immediately froze at seeing her blonde hair, perfectly dry despite the rain. His blood went cold. Sister?

Emmeryn's sage's robes blew lightly in the wind as her face turned sad. She clasped her hands in front of her stomach, and she tilted her head ever so slightly to the right. She had always done that when she asked Chrom a favor... Always when she said-

"Please, Chrom."

To hear her voice, to hear it clear as a bell as though she were right next to him, sent shivers down Chrom's back. Had he not just watched her die in Plegia? What cruelty was making him see her again, knowing she wasn't real? Or perhaps she was real, and sending him a plea from beyond the grave?

"Emmeryn wouldn't have wished for this to come to bloodshed." He hated hearing that man, that commander, speak as though he'd known her. As though he'd known what she would've wanted. Though perhaps the real issue, Chrom realized, was that that man had spoken a truth the hurt prince was not willing to face – not when he had such a thirst for revenge.

A tear rolled down his sister's face. Maybe he had seen it from so far away, or maybe he'd just been able to sense it. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to run to her, to take her in his arms and end this battle and bloodshed – which he deep down truly knew she wouldn't have wanted as a result of her sacrifice for peace. He'd have rather dropped Falchion then and there and had the chance to see his sister close to him, ghost or not, than lift his sword once more in this massacre of a battle.

Though fate wouldn't have it as such.

"CHROM!" a voice bellowed from behind him. A blinding flash of light jolted him out of his thoughts. Shielding his eyes from the blinding light, he whipped around his shoulder and raised his sword again, though it seemed twice as heavy now.

Behind him was Robin, fighting off a wave of soldiers with her tome as Cordelia soared back into the skies to take on a wyvern above them. A partially charred body lay within inches of him, a sword in his hand that had been ready to kill Chrom had Robin not jumped in. More of his kind in Plegian red armor were right behind him, and the tactician was struggling to hold them off.

With urgency, Chrom jumped back into action, leaping forward with an undercut to the ribs of a swordsman who was seconds away from leaving a gaping gash in Robin's arm. Her robe was already covered in a vile mixture of blood and mud, and she was grunting with the effort of fighting off a barbarian with her sword. He'd be damned if he let them take her as well.

Forced to put all thoughts of pain out of his head once more, he continued to fight tirelessly at Robin's aid. Though no longer was his head blinded by rage. Rather, he began to feel the same feeling of absolute pain that the other Shepherds were. His will to fight began to drain.

He didn't get the chance to see if the ghost of his sister still waited on the cliff, though he assumed if she'd been watching still, there were no doubt tears falling from her eyes.

She didn't want things to come to bloodshed.

The soldiers of Plegia hadn't wanted to fight. Neither had their commander, though Mustafa had been right in saying a soldier's job is not to judge, but rather deliver judgment. They were left without a choice but to strike down the Ylisseans, even if it pained them to do so when they thought of Lady Emmeryn. She had been right in saying that war would only bring them sorrow.

And so, when Frederick had made it to the commander and cut him down, the man's last wish was met: They spared the rest of his men. Though if they were being honest, it was less sparing the Plegian soldiers out of understanding and more trying to get themselves to safety while they had a chance that motivated that decision.

When the Shepherds and what Ylissean soldiers were left found themselves stuffed shoulder-to-shoulder into circus wagons by a dancer, there were no words left to be said. Everyone was soaked, covered head to toe in mud and blood from enemies and allies alike. The weight of the massacre was heavy on their shoulders, their hearts ached, and their stomach's hurt. Rain pattering on the wagon's roof as well at the occasional earsplitting crack of thunder were the only sounds to be heard over the horses' galloping as everyone took in what they'd just been through.

Lissa hadn't let go of her older brother since being reunited with him after the battle, and the two of them leaned on the edge of the wagon's wall in silence. Chrom absent-mindedly had an arm draped around his sister's as she eventually cried herself to sleep on his shoulder. Robin sat with her fingers on her temples, knees pulled close to her chest as a look of surrendered misery clouded her face.

"Is everyone okay?" the tactician asked shakily after roughly a quarter of an hour, her eyes wide and unmoving as she spoke. Her solemn voice rang out through the wagon as though she'd screamed, splitting the silent atmosphere with that one somber question.

Her concern was met with silent nods all around – save for Lissa, Chrom, and Frederick, who looked to lost in grief to register her voice. Each face looked as grim and shell-shocked as the next. Robin didn't react to their responses, seeming rather to have asked out of reflex and necessity than a genuine ability to worry. She was far beyond that feeling now.

The ride to Ferox wast thereafter spent in silence. There were no words worthy of their anguish and heartbreak. Once or twice it happened that someone needed to vomit out the window. Though even then, no words were spoken, and the poor soul who'd become too overwhelmed received nothing more than a sad rub on the back. But no words were spoken. None at all.

Honestly, writing such a novelization-y chapter is not easy... I tried to put some of my own tidbits in there, but all in all not easy. This one wasn't particularly enjoyable to write, one reason for that being that it's the saddest point in the game and made me a little depressed! Another being I enjoy using canon more as a guideline for original stuff than writing straight up what we saw in the game. But I think this song is truly sacred and captures the mood so well; I wouldn't have wanted to write any purely original situation and pretend that could do it justice.

I hope this chapter was enough. We're leaving Novelization Station now and going back to our regular scheduled OrigiCanon programming next.