#this is 2x the length or more than most S'ria stories but it does cover a lot of quests

[snow-system-wol]

Following S'ria and Menphina in Garlemald from the quests "How the Mighty have Fallen" to "No Good Deed".

(the longest single S'ria Snippet piece, at around 4k)

Ao3

(warnings for panic responses and general Garlemald depressingness)

S'ria had thought he was past much of the long-ingrained hatred, whittled away through years of time spent with Cid, Lucia, Maxima – hell, even Gaius. He was fully prepared to help Garlemald, knowing that civilians had hardly done anything wrong (gods knew the propaganda could be incessant) and they did not deserve the brutality and the tempering foisted upon them by the Telophoroi.

That resolve did not last as long as he'd have liked in the face of loyal Garleans, whose minds were yet their own and still utterly consumed by the words their empire had fed them. S'ria could blame the constantly bitter chill for eroding his sanity and patience, but he feared that he hadn't approached this as openly as he'd intended.

But gods, the mistrust would've put anyone on edge.

Licinia's initial accusation was alarming – that their magics and the ones destroying the minds of her fellow countrymen were one in the same. S'ria wondered whether that was merely a knee-jerk reaction borne of ignorance, or if that was a rumor that had actively been sown to breed further xenophobia. It seemed an important distinction, to know what opposition they may face. If everyone thought the tempering was their fault... That could prove difficult.

It's strange... S'ria was well aware that Garlean sensibilities would teach pureblood citizens many things about someone like him -- uncivilized, inferior in every respect, not even worthy of being treated like a person... But he hadn't truly considered that civilians may fear him. 

They calmed though, and accepted aid – maybe. There was an animosity that was so barely concealed, and S'ria knew full well that their desire to simply "help" would be met with skepticism at best. Their paranoia was... a familiar sensation to him, and few people in the world ever had perfectly pure intentions.

He loved the twins dearly, but he feared that Alphinaud's earnest altruism may only put them more on edge – better to seem a little more… believable. Telling them that they hoped for any not loyal to the Telophoroi to survive, simply to spite their enemy, would likely be accepted long before a truly charitable explanation would.

Possibly. Or maybe it would've made things worse.

S'ria knew Licinia was hiding something – someone – but what was he to do about that? The voice he heard didn't sound overly distressed, just weak, so he doubted it was any kind of captive… and so he left it at that. S'ria didn't understand why any member of their group wouldn't be allowed to take in the warmth of the fire with the rest of them, but that seemed far too much of a thing to press at this very delicate stage. Not when she, quite frankly, clearly hated S'ria.

Meeting the tappers was an almost welcome break from interacting with those at Victor's Spoils, if only to speak with some people who greeted their group with less hostility. Ah, well, less hostility after they tried to kill him, but it was a misunderstanding and no one had died, so fair was fair.

A part of S'ria was, illogically, almost jealous of this group. The labour was hard and they hadn't had a chance to leave the country even now, but S'ria couldn't help but think… if he had been brought to Garlemald for this sort of work instead, perhaps things would've been different. But he was a weak child then, it would never have been his fate anyway.

The walk back made S'ria suddenly conscious of the fact that Alisaie being by his side meant Alphinaud was alone, and seeing the area by the fire unattended was enough to make his breath quicken. 

S'ria supposed maybe they should've known better, but the point was that they were out here to try.

Trying had led to Alphinaud clutching his shoulder while blood seeped through his fingers, stood over a group of injured but still very much alive attackers. It was only with a great deal of reminding himself that the aggressors were subdued that S'ria managed to calm himself. No more violence was needed here.

Oh, how S'ria had not missed Garlean sensibilities at all – and it concerned him that he suddenly understood and remembered a bit more about their social standards than he had moments prior. Any little bits of knowledge pried from memories would need to not start an avalanche of recalling, not here, not now.

The word that stuck with him so much was "purity". There was so much emphasis put on purity of one's heritage, on being a trueblooded Garlean and anything else was undeserving of dignity. (And despite the fact that they treated mixed race offspring with little more regard than they did their mothers, they seemed ill-inclined to avoid such things during their occupation.) That status was a coveted trait…as if there was anything pure about it to maintain.

And yet, these lot claimed that anything was better than allowing their magics or their ways to taint them, that it was an act so fundamentally wrong that any proper Garlean would sooner die. They seemed very determined to have their way on that one. The two missing sisters didn't bode…very well.

He wasn't yet at the point of saying that those who seemed so determed to die should be left to it – but for gods' sake, what was even going to happen when they found the girls? What then?

S'ria was hesitant to leave Alphinaud behind to heal himself and the others – the attempts to heal them via magical means may just provoke more violence rather than allowing him to help – but he could handle himself now that they'd lost the element of surprise. The sisters certainly wouldn't benefit from S'ria loitering around at Victor's Spoils.

If it wasn't so damn far below freezing, the tracks leading across the ice would've put terrifying images in S'ria's head. Drowning in a frozen lake seemed a horrific way to go. The ice seemed frozen for at least a fulm down at least and was fully solid under his feet. He was glad that neither his last moments nor Licinia's would be spent in water so cold that your lungs refused to draw air even if you found the surface again.

On some level, S'ria had known that it was hopeless even before they'd started to search. Perhaps it was better that it wasn't a near miss. There was no "just a minute faster" to question here, these bodies were ice cold – even in this temperature, it wouldn't be so quick. It hurt him, but not as badly as it could've. It'd been… a humane enough death, all things considered. They must've bled out very quickly. It was a brief punch in the gut and then he could breathe again – maybe it helped that he'd never really expected this search to go well.

S'ria wished the same could be said of the twins. They seemed devastated, and S'ria would've taken some of that turmoil off their shoulders if he could've. The gods knew they'd blame themselves for this.

From the moment their postures had changed upon processing the scene, S'ria had wanted to draw them close – but who knew if that would go over well, with both of them in a state that rivaled the worst he'd seen either of them in. The closest he could compare to was Tesleen and the Crystal Braves for each of them, and S'ria did not want to make either of them feel worse.

Alphinaud wanted the bodies properly taken care of. S'ria wasn't sure that was for the best, to return carrying their bloodied corpses, but Alphinaud was not likely to walk away without trying to do what little was left. S'ria could honor that.

Licinia would not have liked to have been buried with the aid of magic. It was more for the twins than for her that S'ria labored to drive a shovel through permafrost, but neither did he wish their last action here to be one of disrespect. He felt eyes on the back of his neck the entire time. Did they even bury their dead in Garlemald? Perhaps they did something else entirely, like cremation or the like, and this was only another misstep.

So be it.

It was a painfully cold walk back. What had Lucia promised him for his search efforts? Warm soup upon his return? S'ria hardly had an appetite, but he'd take the warmth all the same. After this many hours, he felt near frozen through.

It felt odd. During this trip so far, S'ria had been (to put it bluntly) the psychological weak link of the group. He was very aware of the fact that he was somehow doing better than Alphinaud and Alisaie in this exact moment, and that was…alarming. For all of Alisaie's boldness and Alphinaud's pragmatism, somehow they'd both refused to explain to Lucia what had happened. S'ria would not begrudge them this one, it was an easy enough burden to accept, telling her in their stead.

He tried his best to stay objective, even if his ability to do so wavered throughout his report. Lucia was never easy to read, as meticulously stoic as she could be at times, but there was something in her expression that S'ria didn't know how to interpret by the time he was done explaining.

They all needed food and rest.

What they did not need was Jullus. S'ria just wanted to rest, so badly, and here was this young soldier bickering with him. It felt as though they were having two damn conversations – one where they kindly offered to let him leave unharmed with supplies and a separate one where Jullus felt that there were negotiations occurring.

S'ria couldn't help but feel immensely frustrated every time he opened his mouth. If it weren't for the fact that the contingent's goal was to establish a working relationship, that meeting their Legatus would be helpful, then S'ria would immediately have told him to bugger off.

That wasn't the case, though, and S'ria knew well enough to keep his mouth shut and not undermine Lucia as their commander.

S'ria knew the twins were going to volunteer and insist on it. He would never let them go alone, of course, but… it was a trap. Just three people only, leaving to an unknown location with a man who so clearly hated them? It was a terrible idea.

It was such a terrible idea that Fray clamored over it, seething in the back of his mind with the vague threat to wrench control and let none of the three of them follow through with this. S'ria couldn't blame them, only to hope that they'd let it happen regardless. Even if it was a truly terrible idea that seemed hardly worth it even in the best case scenario.

Perhaps the only thing that made Fray stay their hand was the fact that Jullus seemed to have no idea who any of them were, even S'ria. "A sellsword and two children", indeed.

(Alisaie and Alphinaud rankled at that, but both seemed to think it to their advantage to not inform Jullus of their actual ages.)

As they traveled, S'ria once again got the sense that loyal Garlean soldiers lived in a reality just adjacent to the one where the rest of them resided, hearing whatever they wanted to hear as long as it affirmed their set beliefs.

Perhaps that was harsh? They were only doing their best to survive.

S'ria could understand his doubt over any cure for tempering, even if the stance taken was somewhat callous. (But he didn't have to kill tempered soldiers, was he truly so uncaring to the idea that they could be saved still? Was proclaiming them a lost cause really what felt best?)

(S'ria did at least realize in that moment, while outraged at the idea of this needless death, that he was properly capable of thinking of imperial soldiers as victims at the very least. He hadn't be quite sure if he'd manage that or not, even trying to come into this mission with an open mind, but the tempered very much had his pity.)

S'ria understood that they weren't trusted, but it was still so frustrating that he wouldn't even listen to the twins. Wasn't admitting the limitations of the cure more believable than claiming it could fix even those with fully corrupted bodies? The prior claim, that most could be saved, remained true and... while S'ria was in no rush to explain who they were, Alisaie and Alphinaud had seen many tempered even far more corrupted than this, they knew what they were talking about. These people need not die. 

S'ria had to remind himself that viewing the twins as children, beneath him, could be very useful if needed... but no matter – at least the annoyance served to keep his blood pumping a little warmer. And maybe serve as a distraction to his nerves.

His body was quick to remind him, after all, that he'd hardly had the chance to warm up before heading back out here.

 

The legatus could've been worse, S'ria supposed, but that wasn't high praise. Quintus was everything S'ria had expected – calmly arrogant and utterly assured of being right. Would they have walked into such as obvious trap if they did not bear good intentions? More importantly, surely the world not ending was enough of an explanation of the Alliance's motivations that foul play need not be immediately suspected? It quickly became clear that nothing would come of this.

Any possibility of common ground being found crashed and burned when Quintus asked Alphinaud – if he cared for peace so much, why would he not advocate for Eorzea submitting to the Empire's rule? If Quintus truly, truly could not comprehend the answer to that question, was so numb or naive or deluding himself about the very real suffering that kept constantly occurring, then there was no point in speaking to each other at all.

Quintus clearly agreed, declaring negotiations over. At least the sound of a dozen soldiers readying their weapons meant that S'ria could stop waiting for things to go wrong. Hostages, that was what had come of whatever this was meant to be – perhaps meant to barter for food and supplies that had already been offered in the first place. They seemed to have no concrete plans yet aside from not allowing them to leave.

If anyone suggested that S'ria should speak to another Garlean faction and try to provide aid or seek common ground, putting himself at their mercy in the process, he thought he might just say no next time.

He hadn't even been paying very close enough attention to Quintus speaking any longer. He was more concerned with regretfully considering whether Fray intervening back at Camp Broken Glass might've been for the best, so the next words shattering through his mind were met with no preparation.

"Collar them."

S'ria would be hard-pressed to explain what his mind and body felt like for those next few seconds. Time felt very slow as his blood turned to ice in his veins and the adrenaline rush to his head was enough for half his vision to go spotty. The scars on his neck burned with phantom pain of something that blessedly lay just outside of his memories.

No. No. No, this wasn't going to happen. Alisaie and Alphinaud briefly dropped entirely from the equation, with him fully ready to leave them behind to cut his way out of here before a single person could lay a hand on him – or if escape was impossible, at least die before letting someone clamp anything around his neck. 

Quintus waved off the soldiers, warning them off from approaching S'ria and he could breathe just faintly easier as he realized they weren't going to try it. Good for their sake, he supposed – the result would not have been bloodless. He could feel the pressure in his skull subside as the frantic attempts of others to wrench control away and engage fight or flight ceased.

S'ria wasn't sure which would've stepped in... but allegedly he'd gone completely meek and pliant way back during the Crystal Brave's betrayal, and that seemed the worst possible response in any given situation going forward. That was safely avoided, this time, it was all right.

His lungs tightened anew as he realized they'd considered abandoning Alphinaud and Alisaie while in that blind panic. How could he even think that?

It was clearly obvious to Quintus how much S'ria cared for those two. In the same relief-inducing statement in which he suggested trying to put a collar on S'ria was impractical, he also clarified that their only leash on him would be psychological. And he was entirely correct – S'ria had no desire to see what happened when the shock function was activated, and even less desire to see it demonstrated on someone he cared about.

S'ria wondered how obvious his full body trembling was. He hoped it'd be misinterpreted as rage, or else his mind and flesh were betraying far too many weaknesses to those who likely had no aversion to exploiting them. The dregs of terror along with the rush of relief were a potent cocktail that left him unsteady on his feet and less present than he'd like.

S'ria took back any concessions he had made while taking on this entire mission – tempered or not, there was something deeply wrong with the people that still remained in this country.

Menphina was unsure if S'ria meant for this, which of them had been the catalyst, but perhaps she was brought out by S'ria's concern for the twins. Jullus seemed aware of the change on some level – the Warrior of Light softening around his previously raw edges into a sort of soft worry, S'ria's accent giving way to Menphina's (to say nothing of the noticeable pitch change.)

She wondered what he may think of all this and whether he thought his confusion was well-concealed or not. He'd seemed a touch intimidated to learn who this "sellsword" actually was, so it was surely just more fuel for the fire to hear S'ria's "Limsa-Lominsan-enough-ish" accent slip back into hers, fully unaltered since the last time they were in this country.

She was sure it was not lost on Jullus that she sounded… distinctly more like an upper class Garlean citizen than like those without good lineage or gil. In fact, she spoke not unlike Jullus himself. Of course, no miqo'te would ever have been allowed in that part of their society, so let him make of that what he will.

She'd never explain, if he decided to ask. S'ria was safest if no one who meant them harm knew too much.

Never mind the fact that Zenos already did know to some unknown extent, which was deeply and truly regrettable – though less dangerous than it sounded. What would be a far more alarming problem was if any of that had found its way to Fandaniel.

Zenos, with their rematch not yet taken, would not intentionally toy with S'ria's triggers in any way that would dull S'ria's edge during the fight – she was reasonably certain at least. If Zenos was to win, he would not want it to feel like he only bested S'ria via the path of least resistance. Killing S'ria while his will to fight was broken seemed just distinctly unsatisfying for his wishes.

(Menphina hoped fervently that she was right about that much.)

Fandaniel, on the other hand… held no such concerns.

No, Menphina should not be spending so much time worrying about what-ifs while they were in a situation that warranted her full attention.

If push came to shove, Menphina hoped that someone else would step in if things escalated into violence. She had never learned how to fight. (Maybe that was a mistake. Or maybe it was a mistake to think she could bear to hurt someone.)

Perhaps, actually, it would be better if she was left to handle it actually. The words and threats hurt, but she could bear them (better her than S'ria, repeated like a mantra) – it was the fact that she was quite perilously close to being struck that concerned her. She was scared of the pain, yes, that'd never been her burden to bear, but she feared more for what may happen if anyone dared to lash out. Fray would hardly let that go.

Alphinaud's request that they help the ill and wounded was very welcome, a task that she knew how to do and would gladly assist in. She'd been considering it before he even asked… except there was scant little they could do.

The unit refused any attempts to secure outside aid, even to keep the weakest of their people alive, supplies were few, and Menphina feared that exercising even  a tiny amount of white magic would prove… disastrous, the moment her patient realized what was being done. Besides, many of them might never consent to treatment via magical means, and that was not a line she wanted to cross while the wounded remained conscious enough to object.

 

Ah, while Menphina did want very badly to assist the sick and wounded in whatever way she could, this particular option was… unfortunate. The body already fared so poorly in this climate, so Alisaie's suggestion that they both wade waist-deep into icy waters was borderline horrifying. Despite already shivering while dry, she took off G'raha's scarf and placed it somewhere relatively dry – while G'raha's scent had faded from the fabric by now, Menphina was sure S'ria would be none too pleased if the fabric got dunked in frigid pond sludge.

And sweet hells was it cold. The water was numbingly painful, but being out of it was even worse, with it feeling like any dampness would freeze over instantly. As glad as Menphina was that they'd found something decent to help the people there, she still huddled so close to the fire afterwards that she risked accidentally touching it.

It was always interesting to experience things, with her own past actions having been so limited in scope – interesting but often unpleasant and very strange. If Menphina had an allagan tin piece for every time she'd spoken to Garlean soldiers around a base in S'ria's stead… well, it was just an odd coincidence that it'd happened more than once now.

It wasn't all terrible, once she started to become less frozen through. Jullus wasn't so bad, not nearly as much as S'ria had made him out to be. He was just a kid, really (in her eyes, at least), and training hadn't driven all of the compassion out of him. He was clearly both concerned and grateful for their somewhat hazardous efforts to find ceruleum – even if he might phrase it in ways that sound more pragmatic than that.

Jullus was just another grieving young one that wanted his family and home back, same as everyone else in the war, and as long as he didn't take that desire far enough to go to dark places, then Menphina could be okay with that. 

While searching for more ceruleum, as startling as it was to hear his voice, Menphina was glad that Thancred and the others were trying to keep an eye on them. (Glad and terrified. She didn't doubt their skills, but Jullus had been very clear that catching anyone following them would have been considered an act of hostility and knowing that Thancred had actually done so was… well, Jullus hadn't noticed him then or now, so it was fine.)

She wasn't sure if there was a plan, or just to sit tight and see. Menphina agreed that their safety and well-being was the most important thing they could maintain – the twins most importantly, in her opinion. Just… she didn't like the situation much.

"Whatever demands the Garleans make, indulge them." Menphina knew Thancred didn't mean anything by it, but his choice of phrasing made her stomach twist. It wasn't like that, she had to remind herself – if nothing else, with Jullus as their keeper, he still seemed too principled to condone senseless cruelty (an admirable trait, in wartimes, she'd give that much.)

 

Shivering in the bunker, S'ria slid back into place with a jolt, nearly bumping into Alphinaud in his brief disorientation. He laughed tiredly.

"I would've hoped to have been warmer by now, but no such luck."

"Oh, S'ria! We'd been concerned. Are you well?" Alisaie seemed genuinely glad to have him back. That was sweet, as long as Menphina hopefully didn't feel any sadness over that reverse side of that idea. It was still... odd for this to be considered a somewhat normal thing, with both himself and others knowing and being okay with these strange moments.

"Yes – just a bit tired and out of it. I remember enough, no need to be concerned." S'ria wrapped his scarf a little more securely around himself. "And damned cold, but you already knew that."

Alphinaud and Alisaie both nodded very resignedly. Yes, with the heaters all but running dry now, it was awful.

S'ria just wished, more than anything else, that being reunited with the twins was not so brief. He'd suspected it would come to this from the first – while Jullus only now changed the twins' status from envoy to prisoner, they'd had the damned collars on the entire time regardless. And the cruelty of everything was just so… why accept freely offered charity for fear of owing anything when one could just take it all by force. As if Alphinaud had not already all but begged the legatus to allow for supplies to be sent for their sick and wounded.

S'ria wasn't sure Jullus could even go through with pressing the button to set off the shock collars, the way his face froze and hands shook. He didn't want to find out, though. For one moment he considered it – lunging to rip the control out of his hands in the hope that it was the only one for this set of collars, removing any chance of them being hurt. But if he was wrong, oh, they would pay the price.

S'ria hated to let them out of his sight, alone with only men who hated them, the only protection afforded to them the dubious rights of a hostage. Jullus had guiltily insisted that no harm would come to them if they were compliant, and S'ria wanted so badly to be able to trust those words. 

Perhaps, with the twins separated from S'ria, the next person to accuse him of offering an olive branch with ulterior motives would get a different and far clearer answer – that his goodwill had rather run dry, and the only thing that now maintained his willingness to help was honoring the wishes of the kindest among the Scions