Before I can even begin to discuss the generational trauma of the Galvus family, we need to go back to where it all started. Emet-Selch, the sundering and his inability to process grief. Some would say that Emet is not a sentimental man, but everything he does is fueled by longing and pining for what he once had. He suffered tremendous loss - his home, his people, his Azem, his entire world. He cannot and does not move on, and that stagnation and grief continue to bleed into his life as Solus zos Galvus. The death of Lucius yae Galvus was a turning point for Solus. Lucius had represented proof to him that sundered souls may still have worth, may be worth saving. His death reinforced the opposite - we are fragile, imperfect beings and in the end, disposable. The grief from this loss never resolved within Solus, simply redirected. And landed squarely on the shoulders of a young Varis yae Galvus. “Through His Eyes” makes it clear that after Lucius’ death, Emet emotionally severed himself from his lineage. He corrects himself to “This body’s grandson” when referring to Varis, refusing to acknowledge they are related. When a 20 year old Varis desperately challenges his grandfather on what it is that displeases him so, we are told “To let this question spill forth, his frustration towards his grandsire must be great indeed”, suggesting this moment has been building for some time. Varis has grown up in the shadow of an unspoken loss; his resentment is not sudden - it has built up over years of being treated like he is unworthy, lesser. We know Varis is not incapable of connection, despite how Solus may have treated him. Regula van Hydra has been a close friend since childhood, and his bond with his personal guards - the twins Julia and Annia quo Soranus - who have been with him since his days as High Legatus, proves he can maintain loyalty, trust and camaraderie. But with family, there is nothing. We do not know if he ever mourned his father but he showed open disdain for his grandfather, spitting on Solus’ coffin during his funeral rites. For all the fandom can joke and meme on Varis, he himself is a tragedy and a victim - a man who spent his life trying to be enough for someone who never even saw him as truly alive. Then comes Zenos yae Galvus. Where Varis was shaped by pressure and control, Zenos was shaped by absence. His mother dies shortly after his birth, and Varis is emotionally and physically absent. Allowing - and even enabling - his abuse. The Hunt Begins paints a mournful picture: a child beaten, returning injured, and met not with concern but indifference. "The tenth day saw Zenos limping back to his chambers, cradling a throbbing shoulder, when his father’s voice rang out behind him. “How goes your training?” As if you don’t know. Though his clothing did a good job of hiding the countless welts and bruises now covering his body, Varis would have received the reports from his son’s servants. He knew full well about these daily thrashings, and had permitted them to continue. “Very well, Father.” Zenos replied, smiling." This does not produce ambition or loyalty to the Empire. But emptiness, apathy, disconnect. Zenos becomes anhedonic, detached from the world and unable to find his place in it, unable to find meaning or joy in anything. Pausing on Zenos for a moment, before we can understand how this cycle leads to Endwalker, it’s important to look at another branch of the Galvus family tree that didn’t follow this implosive path. Titus and Nerva yae Galvus. Whilst Titus never lived up to his brother Lucius’ legacy, there is no indication that he was treated with hostility like his nephew was. In fact, from the limited information we get, it seems Titus was fairly well adjusted. Solus’ grief was targeted specifically towards Varis as Lucius’ only heir. As a result, his relationship with his son is a direct contrast to Zenos/Varis. Functional, cooperative and at the very least, communicative and supportive, given he backs Nerva’s right to the throne. The cycle breaks in this branch, and yet it still ends in tragedy. Titus, suggested to have been killed either during the civil war or during the Final Days - a side quest introduces us to a Royal Bodyguard showing remorse over not being able to save the Royal Household at an assumed safe haven. Nerva, described as ambitious and deeply patriotic, retains the capacity for connection as seen in his bond with Vergillia. He loves his homeland, he believes in the Empire. Unlike Zenos, he has something to lose. And that’s precisely why the Final Days consumes him. His love for his country and the despair of what has become of it is the catalyst that transforms him into a Blasphemy. Zenos, meanwhile, feels nothing. No loyalty, no grief, no attachment to the empire he helped destroy. There is nothing for the song of Despair to take root or hold on to. And it is precisely that endless emptiness that drives him into his actions that lead to Endwalker. Where Varis sought control and unity, Zenos invites annihilation in exchange for a single moment of feeling and connection. That moment he found in us, the WoL, the only person who ever viewed as an equal. Who did not defer, who did not cower, who did not break. Their battle in Ala Mhigo was not about the fight itself; it was about what it gave Zenos - meaning. From that point on, Zenos defines himself through that connection. Like an addict, he chases it again and again, even if it means reducing the world to nothing to recreate it. Everything else is expendable. We are his connection to a world he never understood and that never attempted to understand him. We are his lifeline, his meaning. It’s not about combat, that’s just the outlet he knows best. In From the Cold proves that. He tries to connect with us differently. It’s awkward, it’s unsuccessful, it’s once again forced. Also, Fandaniel is there. But he tries. As clumsy as his attempt is, it’s an attempt to bridge that gap. But you cannot force understanding any more than you can force connection. And rather than accepting his failure, he lashes out and retaliates harder. His connection to us is the only positive affirmation he’s ever known and he pushes it to the extreme over and over again. Enter Alisaie. In Garlemald, Alisaie is the first to outright reject his premise and lay things to him plainly. She refuses to engage him on his terms and calls him out, hitting him hard with some home truths that he has long needed to hear - his obsession is selfish, hollow, one-sided. For the first time, he’s forced to face the idea that the connection he depends on may not be mutual. We don’t consider Zenos vulnerable because let's face it, he is over 7ft5, around 350lbs of pure apathetic killing machine. He does not project vulnerability. But he is. He was manipulated by Fandaniel. The ascian hooked his claws in on Zenos' insecurity and disconnect and used that for his own needs before betraying him on the moon. And this realisation - delivered by a sharp-tongued sixteen-year-old - doesn’t redeem him, but it changes him fundamentally. We see him reflect on his actions, on her words. We see him re-evaluate his situation. And in the end, he shows restraint. He helps us without demanding anything in return, and he banters back at us when we tell him we’re leaving him behind at the edge of the universe. He does not demand his battle, he asks and allows for refusal. Because it’s not about the battle, it’s about the connection and at that point, we have never been closer; that connection - no matter what answer you choose in the end - is finally mutual. The Zenos who helps us in Ultima Thule is not the same Zenos who faced us in the Royal Menagerie nor sat across from us in the Imperial Palace. And that’s the true tragedy. And he realises this too as he takes his last breath and talks with us And thus we tie back to where this all began. If Emet-Selch had dealt with his grief, if he had not projected it onto Varis, then Varis might not have grown into a man incapable of loving his own son. Zenos may not have been left so utterly empty that he sought meaning in destruction. None of this absolves the Galvus family or the Garlean empire of their crimes. But it reframes them with context. Because Zenos is not an inevitable outcome, he is a product of his environment. He would always be our enemy as a member of the Garlean royal family, a legatus and a conqueror. But at least the ending might have been different. At least when he was defeated in Ala Mhigo, he would have either met the same fate, this time stayed dead. Or surrendered and stood trial for his crimes. He would not have continued to pursue us. Would not have allied with the Ascian. Would not have freed Zodiark, forcing us to kill the primal. Would not have allowed Meiteon's song of oblivion to reach Etheirys. In short, Endwalker as it unfolded could have been avoided if the cycle had been broken.
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