#But to realise all of vault fits in one building of brick and stone.... It's insane. It's a mind boggling feat of engineering and magic

[phoenixcatch7]

Welcome to the environmental lore photo collection that took me three weeks to do! We shall see if we can fit all the photos in!

Okay! For purposes of this compilation I'll not be talking about either seasonal areas or the war! Because those are whole separate topics, and well...

We know enough. Also, I had to lighten several photos, so they might look slightly off to experienced players. It's so you can see!

So, the very first area -

Forgive the quality, this is their second compression lmao. As you can see, we start off with pretty standard Sky Kingdom architecture - blue stone with pale blue paint, topped with gold almost-spikes. There's a landing area from valley (middle left) but it's almost entirely flooded with cloud so good luck landing on it now lol. An overhead walkway (bottom left) that only appears elsewhere in the valley citadel and skate race. Unsurprising, given the proximity.

The interesting things are the campfire, the lanterns, and the broken bridge (top left, right, and bottom right respectively).

The huge campfire and the rows of lanterns speak of low light levels and temperatures. The nature of the wasteland is pollution and corruption, so it's easy to think the thick, dark cloud layer blocking out the sun is a result of that, and thus came about later in the timeline. But it seems to be early enough that ancestors made their own countermeasures to the darkness.

The broken bridge, of course, led down. It's sizable. I wonder what it looked like, before the hurricane? Perhaps they used shuttle boats like the village of dreams? Unlikely - there's no boat debris anywhere on either side, but it's an interesting thought. Either way, it tells us the hurricane wasn't always there...

^ Enter the wasteland proper, and you're met with this. Everything is half buried in sand, the water is toxic, and there's not a candle to be seen (except of course on cake days, as you will see later XD) - this will remain true for the whole realm. Under the hooked arch in the bottom pic is the sapling (clinging on for dear life, surely) and the dock leading to Enchantment.

What purpose the listing building in the centre pic does, I don't know, but if you squint under the left arch in the bottom picture, you'll see there's another one (with nothing inside). Given its placement, it could be assumed one had to pass through it to reach the main entrance. It's highly unlikely they were homes.

Similarly, all those giant broken arches could have enclosed a vast area the size of a small town (figuratively, if we consider the dream village and the aviary) - they're all pointing at each other (as best they can). Valley has proven the smaller version of these are to be walked on, so perhaps guards or manta riders could patrol on them? You do crashland enter under the only standing arch, after all.

The paths, centre right, also seem to be doing badly. Their solidity and thickness means they're not simple flagstones or paving like other areas in sky - they're heavy duty, lined with I believe to be more of that golden metal that bent instead of crumbled. They were built over unsteady ground. Whether that be the sand and toxic water they sit in now or just normal water remains to be seen.

If you look left, you'll see a distant... Factory of some kind. Middle left picture. Pipes leading in or out of it. Whatever it is, production, water purification, waste disposal, it probably doesn't work anymore. If you've played Journey (sky's predecessor), it's strongly reminiscent of an area where you build a temporary bridge connecting the broken arches so you can cross into the enormous building ahead. It's a fantastic sense of scale, to realise that this ancient civilisation ringed a significant portion of way around the base of this gargantuan mountain.

Half buried statues guard the crumbling entrance - smaller than the gigantic ones in the valley stadium, but pretty much the same otherwise lol. Given the amount of buried rubble around them and the chasm in the stone above, did something burst in... Or out? The mystery isn't solved on the inside, but at least the corridor isn't completely blocked. Sky kid (me!) for scale! It's interesting, how apart from the obviously ceremonial dramatic valley statues, these are the first things we see of anything resembling combat or even weapons. A culture which has a concept of militaristic might. They're guarding something important. (Vault, duh.)

No! Unlike what you'd think, the important thing becomes clear immediately. The collosal, toppled bell (I always wondered if they were hollow), the odd ceremonial structure it landed by (top left), those funny diamond bells (top right, top left if you squint), the studded cylinders (bottom left). The hastily stacked rubble blocking the krill's sight (bottom middle), the ripped open roof (bottom right).

It's identical to the forest elder shrine. This is a temple. Could this have been the original location of the wasteland elder shrine? The only remaining proof of a secret eighth elder, now subsumed?... A cool shaped building the architects took and ran with? We don't know. Whatever it was, it was clearly of great import. Most likely ceremonial, or for worship, or, heck, the equivalent of a podium specifically for big grand speeches. When the roof was there, it was an enormous, grand room, guarded by stern stone giants twice over and blocked by the same great doors that hide the forest glade. The ones that light up and spin and only open after meditating and meeting the elder...

There's no sign of those doors now, which is impressive. Probably where they got the stone for the krill blockade and the hiding places along the little bridge. Good thing they're gone, then, because those magic hinges seem to have run out of juice and gone dark. My theory is they were there to keep people out - a barrier between the last traces of peace and the battle torn graveyard we're about to walk into. (Another potential point in the 'prev wasteland elder location' - an ancestor would have to pass through him to enter, and the enemy on the way out.)

There's pipes now, too - I can only believe they were a later addition, given how haphazardly they coat the walls, and the industrial pollution aesthetic much more suited to the grimy, bleak wastes of today than the gilded ceremonial hall this once was.

Just off the left after the main temple area, there's a large room, ceiling also torn off. I can only describe them as pedestals, but what stood on them I don't know. My first thought when I found this place as a moth was a wardrobe/constellation/friend constellation thing, but it's??? Eh. If it were statues, they're long gone with no sign, and they're not big enough for anything mobile. This room served a function, that much is clear, but if decorative or practical I doubt we'll ever know.

^ The graveyard. This is its actual name, I believe. Fitting. The wasteland title promised us Vault, that's all this place is now good for, so that must be the vault we see looming in the background, tower reaching into the low clouds. (If you've played Journey, you're already familiar with the tower idea, so it's easy to slot the two together.)

Here you'll find, uh, krill. There's four here, the highest concentration of krill in all sky lmao. You'll find giant skeletons. You'll find sand. Toxic water. And that's kind of it.

Interesting things abound, however! There's a fleet of sunken, broken boats (middle left), a campfire now overgrown with dark plants (not shown) and a giant crab roasting campfire with a poor, beloathed by the community, crab loving spirit (middle). We can only assume he's the one who built the campfire! Thanks dude! Please have an easier relived memory! (should we call it a seance??) Now, given the guy is an elderly dude who carries a guitar and spends his time chasing crabs all across the dang map, he's probably not a warrior. Heck, with the amount of crabs, he probably arrived after the pipes. After the war, even? On the middle right pic is the weirdly undecorated entrance to the sunken ship.

Of course I looked at the skeletons and compared them! Each wasteland one had tiny scratches or notches in the spine spikes, and yes they aren't there on the other, but otherwise the size and shapes are identical! These skeletons are whales, as proven by the skeleton in forest haunted by the whale whisperer! The poor forest whale died of head injury colliding with the building, so there's every chance these guys were also used in warfare for similar reasons - maybe even specifically bred to fight the krill - but it could also have been a tragedy of mass extinction during what turned the graveyard into what it is today. :( That you can find a Rythm spirit in a skull tells us the troupe came about a LONG time after the deaths.

^ To the shipwreck! The first pic I caught during the shard event (though they landed all the way in prairie!) lol. It looks so ominous... Outside of the seasonal enchantment beauty, this is the biggest vessel in the game, and much more utilitarian. Unlike SS Enchantment, this thing was a tanker, not a home for those on board.

Featuring - the only decorated pipes in the kingdom (middle left)! Life boat deployment cranes (bottom left)! A beached lifeboat, bottom right :(. A boat still attached (feat me). More of those weird diamond bells for cargo, which proves they were a valued commodity and at least semi mass produced and shipped around the kingdom! More than the craftsman in prairie, or the tree fellers in forest, they prove a thriving, stable kingdom steadily advancing in technology and society! And the boat being pointed to the temple - incoming goods? Potentially, for Vault?

The krill decided it didn't want to be in the top pic, but I swear he's there XD... Most likely what sank the ship, tbh. It's not caught on some rock, or ledge, or ditch. In fact, the bottom is more intact than the top!... I think the krill escaped the warzone and caught the arriving ship, possibly spotting an unlucky crewmate through those big arched windows. The memory of the saluting captain walks the wreckage of his ship, sending away a loyal crew member on the second last life boat, back out to sea. Whether it's the boat dashed on the rocks or if they escaped the krill I don't know, but we know the captain didn't. Crab whisperer passes through later, so we know the light seekers are also post event.

We've reached the entrance to the vault! It's.. Smaller than it looks from a distance. Vault must be a shorter building hidden behind it, or far enough away it vanishes into the smog. Under a shard event sky, the black waters look like blood.

The first thing you see of the battlefield is the large, imposing building, now listing to one side and rimmed with stakes (cheval de freise, if you want to be fancy. Large caltrops... When your mounts and enemies can fly). There's only one spirit here, lookout (middle left). Whether it was supposed to be a temporary building (UNLIKELY) or whether they didn't build it properly and the sandy ground subsided over the aeons that have passed between then and now is up to interpretation, but at least this time the lack of roof seems intentional. I'm more annoyed it doesn't line up with the temple, I had to stand literally on the right wall to get the bottom picture and it's still slightly left!

Lighting the crystal triggers three krill to emerge from the ground and start hunting. (One time I visited some unknowing friends who triggered the gate... A krill emerged less than a metre from me with no warning... Terrifying XD.) Previously they used to spawn basically on top of the players and you had to run for your LIFE, but now they take a leisurely stroll in your direction, so you've got plenty of time to wander your way to safety. Maybe stop and get an ice cream. Boring :/. In terms of lore very fascinating and scary, given the last stand and the aurora concert both seemed focused on defending the crystal. This whole time... It was rigged. By which side, I don't know.

The shrine! ^

From the outside, a large, ominous building covered in pipes and statue towers. On the inside, an octagonal chamber many stories high. Like the rest of wasteland, what little decor there is is chockers with that hollow star shape that symbolises light, the king, all that good stuff. There's six ginormous double doors ringing the chamber, all tightly shut. My first thought was six realms, one war council. Nothing to prove or disprove that lol. It would have been a great place for diplomacy, though, without the shrine statue. Sand everywhere, probably through the gaps in the ceiling lol. Beautiful door.

Wasteland elder himself!!! His weapons are the ones arranged on his shrine - whether that means he can manifest in the world and grab them or if they're stone recreations of the ones he carries at all times, I don't know. He's never been seen in any memory or cutscene of war, so maybe he can't manifest... We know the isle elder can, in the song runaway of aurora. His space is the very same place as the Crystal outside his chamber, facing out, and he points his spear towards where the kings star would be, the crowning jewel of his tower. We can safely assume whatever his role, he was defending Vault and Eden behind it. And he succeeded.

There's so much to talk about with the vault door. Top left, the closed wasteland/vault door. Bottom left and right, the closed forest door. Centre and top right, the open vault door. You'll notice more diamond shapes and boat imagery. But in wasteland, the jewels that presumably power the great door are missing, black. The double switches, inactive. Even when activated, no line traces up and no light appears - only the outlines of the stars and speckled lights hidden on the door itself. If that's not divine intervention from the elder, I don't know what is lol.

Pass through into vault, and see its beauty untouched. But turn around, and see the mounds of golden sand blown in from Wasteland, settling in the still air. Vault acknowledges its protector.

Some final thoughts:

^ For some reason, probably that it's the only place it's not very visible, the shipwreck is the only place where the kings star is absolutely massive and has a ring. Every other place, it's normal! It's probably an old design tgc forgot to update with the rest lmao.

^ An entirely accidental realisation due to my research. Man I love environmental storytelling. Nearly every detail of the mask matches the skull! The IMAGERY.

^ My first attempt to get a good shot of wasteland instead caught a first person witness to an expert krill dodger! I didn't get to talk to them, but know you were caught being very cool in high definition!!

^ I didn't get to talk about this theory before, but every entrance and exit to the graveyard and next door shipwreck EXCEPT their connecting corridor are all huge drops in altitude. Both are the only places you find boats. Both are sodden with black water. The ground is uneven. There's whale skeletons. My theory is that these areas were once entirely submerged! Water areas! Shipping and naval battles and cargo! Abyss proves krill can survive perfectly under water - and all emerging krill do so from water!! It'd explain the sand and the debris and the beached boats and all!

Elder shrines do like their slitted roofs. This is prairie. 'S why I wasn't theorising about the sand in wasteland lol. Gotta get the dramatic shafts of light from somewhere!

The open door and two beautifully poised strangers - well done on completing wasteland! I hope you enjoy vault!!

Pipe theory: these things pop up at the entrance to wasteland and follow you all the way through to the shrine, disappear in vault, and then reappear. They go all the way to the point of no return in eden!!! They're either taking something up, or, considering the amount of pipes that open into black water areas, the general gravity situation of vertical pipes... It's likely they were siphoning something away. Sewer pipes, but evil. Maybe trying to wash away whatever corruption happened to the Eye? It didn't work... Poisoned the waters instead. Maybe they carried water up to the Eye like a kingdom sized cooling system and that drained the waters??

And the photo that started this whole thing, the day I climbed the wasteland temple...

that's not smog. That is a wall. That is the biggest wall I have EVER seen.

Do you see the line under the clouds? The sky box? The 'horizon'?

YOU'RE ALREADY LOOKING AT VAULT.

TGC YOU MOTHERS OF DUCKS.

[steklir]

I've been rereading the story in anticipation of the last chapters. Very excited for a possible preview! Thank you for the great fic and chapters as always!

You’re wonderful, thanks so much! MWTW Preview* below, wherein we learn what Nia’s holding over Lexa and Clarke is her usual stubborn self (*~3500 words). 

—

The sun hangs bound and gagged on the last day of Michaelmas term, dawn slipping into day unknown amongst the gathering gloom of the morning’s low-hanging clouds. As the hours lumber on, the air begins to catch in the lungs and it only continues to thicken, only grows heavier and heavier as if swallowing the hundreds of held breaths and deep sighs from within the school.

By noon, the whole world outside Polis’ red brick buildings has faded away into a bleak blur, entire fields and forests suffocated in a veil of fog.

The official joining of Polis and Dominicus is scheduled for two o’clock, their annual Christmas celebration of life superseded by a macabre pageantry of death, but it’s still a half-hour before that happens, or at least the cloaked American reminds herself while creeping outside.

Clarke watches the Headmistress greet the local news crew at the front gate with a vigilant eye, a total of five crew members with an assortment of handheld and video cameras. After handshakes and parking directions, they’re led through the Quad and to the bottom of the double staircase flanking the chapel doors. Requisite small talk is made, along with general lamentations about the weather, mostly because the fog ruins the possibility of panoramic shots for their news-spread on the event, and it’s the first burst of joy Clarke’s felt all day.

And she’s not quite sure schadenfreude counts as joy. Not really.

At about twenty minutes to the hour, the vaulted main building doors swing open to reveal a huddle of businessmen, one brave scout risking the sleeve of his suit to check for rain before holding the door open for his colleagues. With grimaces, the troupe tiptoe along the covered walkway for the sake of their shoes, a tightly packed unit of nondescript older white men in dark suits—possibly the same dude cloned six times, in all honesty—but there’s no way Clarke could ever miss the gait of her second heart, surrounded in their midst.

The Head Girl is marched out of the cloisters and up the marble stairs to the chapel as if she’s not already going willingly. As the fog coalesces into a light drizzle, Lexa pulls the hood of her cloak over her head and the men look on enviously. Her face is pale and every step she climbs must be agony.

Her feet don’t falter. Not even once.

They reach the top and Lexa straightens her shoulders. She pulls back her hood and fixes her eyes on the courtyard below. Her posture and expression betray no sign these fucking villains have drained her of her fight.

No, Heda stands arraigned between the stone pillars of the chapel as tall and fierce as ever: born for this responsibility, be it victory or defeat. Neither the howl of the wind nor the wild of her curls dare disturb her plaits, tightly wound as they are, but as she draws her arms behind herself and raises her chin, Clarke can’t help but wonder if Lexa’s crown of braids feels more a crown of thorns.

The Headmistress and photographers join them on the terrace, Nia speaking to Lexa through the corners of her puckered mouth while they’re fitted with lapel microphones. The Head Girl nods in response, both sets of eyes straight ahead, but Clarke doesn’t miss the smirk festering around the corners of Nia’s mouth. The group are posed and rearranged for endless rounds of publicity shots by the news crew and Lexa complies without a word, dutifully raising the corner of her lips in the semblance of a smile when prompted.

Clarke imagines the sensation of her knuckles contacting with Nia’s gloating mug.

Partway through the pictures, the Dominicus Headmaster dashes up the other set of steps, panting heavily. A droplet of sweat rolls down his bald scalp as he thrusts a bag of some sort into Lexa’s hands and then grins at the Headmistress, chattering excitedly about something Clarke can’t hear and then frowning in suspicion when he realises they’ve been taking publicity photos without him. It’s evident that Lexa doesn’t share his enthusiasm because the shadows under her eyes deepen, but she bows her head and steps inside the chapel with the parcel.

When she returns, her beautiful scarlet Heda cloak is gone, replaced by a garish red and yellow striped blazer.

Titus claps his hands together and Nia grins like a fucking snake.

Clarke thinks she might throw up.

It’s a Dominicus school blazer.

They’ve stripped Lexa of the last symbol of her position—her late mother’s cloak, no less—and forced her into this polyester monstrosity. All for their fucking circus.

She may only be seventeen years old, but Clarke decides she may never be more furious than she is in this moment.

They’re calling back the photographer to take more photos of this nightmare when Clarke can’t stand quiet another millisecond and storms up the staircase. The sallow-faced Advisory Board splutter and try to stop her, stretching out their hands, but they’re all too reticent to actually try apprehending the blonde fury.

“Miss, you can’t be here!”

“Young lady…”

“The ceremony hasn’t started yet, the girls don’t enter until—”

“Let her pass,” a stronger voice commands, powerful and steady even whilst shackled to her personal hell, and the business men gape in confusion, looking between themselves but none daring to contradict the Head Girl.

The Headmistress looks ready to intervene as Clarke pushes through to her girlfriend but then seems to change her mind. She simply makes a magnanimous gesture toward the Head Girl and then steps back, just far enough to give the illusion of privacy.

“Two minutes, Miss Griffin,” Nia says, her face the picture of a victor enjoying the sight of her victims wriggling on the end of a spear. “Then I’ll need you back inside for the ceremonial procession with the rest of your classmates.”

Clarke pays her exactly zero fucks.

“Lexa.” She wraps her hand around Lexa’s upper arm, speaking low; the muscles under her fingers are so taut they’re almost vibrating.

“Do you need something, Clarke?” she asks quietly.

“Just…” Clarke takes a deep breath to steel her aching heart. “Just to remind you that this isn’t the only solution. There are so many people behind you, Lex—we can stop this.”

Any last remnant of Lexa in those haunted green eyes immediately shutter away and Heda’s eyes flicker away, back to centre again.

Clarke drops her hand and follows her gaze, tracing over the sprawl of red brick and cobblestone in front of them, the four buildings that border the courtyard and the patch of Holy Ground in the middle. Under the hanging cloud of fog, the whole world feels small, as if nothing else could possibly exist outside these school grounds, as if they’re dwelling on their own earth, under their own skies.

And then she looks at the girl at her side and she remembers—she remembers the breathtaking immensity of the universe.

“All it’d take is one word from you, just one,” Clarke pleads, not caring if she’s overheard anymore. “You protected Polis before, when you went against the Headmistress and united the Houses two years ago. You can do it again—we can do it again!”

The Head Girl lifts her chin and pulls her arms behind her back; it’s a gesture of power but all Clarke can think about is how exposed it makes her neck, how exposed her heart and throat are to the swing of her enemy’s blade. “It’s done. I’m sorry, Clarke,” she says softly. “I have to choose peace.”

With a nod she already knew she’d be giving before climbing the steps, Clarke turns to Nia and raises her chin.  “Headmistress. We’ve taken a schoolwide vote regarding the proposal to dissolve Polis and merge with Dominicus and—”

Nia bursts into laughter—or, rather, cackles—and turns to her Advisory Board to share in the hilarity. It takes most of them a moment, but they join in, too, if a bit stilted and confused, about as comfortable as they’d be if Clarke had asked them for their opinion on tampons verses sanitary napkins.

“A ‘proposal’? A schoolgirl ‘vote’?” the Headmistress gasps out, gnarly fingers forming air quotations around the words. “As adorable as that must have been, little Yankee, I’m afraid a boarding school isn’t a democracy. Dominicus and Polis will be joining together next year; it’s not up for discussion.”

“How can you possibly speak for us, we’re the ones—” Clarke starts but gets cut off again, this time by a long, dramatic sigh; Nia shoots an exasperated look over to the wary Board members as if they’re simply dealing with an over-tired toddler.

“Why don’t you step inside and I’ll explain,” Nia says sweetly between her teeth, digging her claws around Clarke and Lexa’s arms and towing them into the chapel.

Once inside, the Headmistress closes the door and then spins around to regard them both, eyes slitting in consideration before placing her hands on her hips.

“Clearly a tactical error was made by not involving your partner-in-crime in our little…agreement,” she concedes to Lexa while not sounding in the least bit conciliatory. Her tone isn’t one of resignation, either—it’s crafty, as if she’s expected this from the beginning.

Clarke’s not exactly sure what hackles are but if she has them, they’re definitely rising right now.  

“I’m impressed you managed to hold your tongue, in fact,” Nia continues, cocking an eye over at Clarke for only a moment before ignoring her again for the stiff-backed Head Girl. “I was certain she’d be your first confidant. Perhaps she’s less important to you than I thought.”

Clarke almost snorts, unsurprised when the Headmistress reverts to this strategy.

So predictable.

If Nia can’t get Clarke to submit by going through Lexa, she obviously has no shame in falling back on her contingency plan to pit the two girls against each other. It’s the same strategy she’s deploying at the whole-school level—counting on the girls to either fall into line under her puppet Head Girl’s command or to fall into fractionated chaos, weakening themselves from the inside out with Lexa as the scapegoat.

Nia’s an idiot.

“Of course I didn’t tell her,” Lexa snaps, tugging at her blazer sleeves in disgust while avoiding Clarke’s eye. “You may have been able to cow me into submission but Clarke never would have stood for it.”

“Is that so?” Nia turns to Clarke with mild interest, now, her expression predatory. “My son sends his regards, by the way, dear. It seems you two really hit it off last week.”

Clarke grins.

“We did indeed, thank you for ensuring we met, Headmistress,” Clarke enthuses without a trace of sarcasm. “I spent some time chatting with Roan yesterday, as chance might have it. Turns out we have a lot in common.”

Her sincerity sets Nia off-rhythm for a second, especially once the woman checks over at Lexa and receives only a bland expression in reaction to Clarke’s words. “Well. I’m glad to hear it,” she finally manages before clearing her throat and regaining her footing. “But let’s not get off-topic—the ceremony is due to begin in a few minutes and I need your assurance, both your assurances, that it will go ahead with no unexpected surprises.”

With a raise of her eyebrows, Clarke moves so she’s side-by-side with Lexa against the wall of the vestibule and crosses her arms. The familiar sensation of thick wool against her hand gives her the strength to meet the Headmistress’ glare of intimidation without flinching away and she knows without looking it’s the Heda cloak, hung on the coat hooks.

“It will, Nia,” Lexa sighs when it’s obvious Clarke doesn’t plan to answer in the affirmative.

Or at all.

Glaring is much more gratifying.  

Reaching into her black gown, the Headmistress pulls out a folded piece of paper and hands it to Lexa. “Furthermore, you will be reading this speech we’ve prepared word for word during the press announcement portion. No alterations, no translations into that embarrassment of a secret language of yours, not even an extra breath between sentences. Do I make myself clear?”

Shoulders only sagging for the briefest of seconds, Lexa slips the paper into the inside pocket of the blazer without opening it.

“Yes, Nia.”

The Headmistress lets out a long exhale in satisfaction. “Good. And why will be you be making sure everything proceeds without a hitch?” She leans in so she’s looming over them both and Clarke can smell the cloying stench of her perfume, sees every detail of the scar that stretches across her cheeks and the heavy layer of orange makeup caked over it.

Lexa sets her jaw and looks away, declining to answer this time.

Nia rolls her eyes to the ceiling in irritation and turns her attention to Clarke, currently attempting to hold her breath before she chokes on the sickly-sweet irony of the Headmistress’s ‘Angel’ brand perfume.

“Because the Head Girl knows that if she doesn’t cooperate, I will be taking the opportunity provided to me in the transition to revoke her beloved scholarship programme,” Nia answers for Lexa. “Polis is no longer a non-profit organisation as of last week, nor will the new partnership operate under such budget-hemorrhaging terms. We’re a business, not a charity.”

Clarke shatters as she finally understands the axe Nia’s been holding over Lexa’s head, the captive for which Lexa’s paying ransom.

Almost a quarter of students are funded through scholarships and part-bursaries, literally hundreds of girls unable to attend next year without financial support—girls from high-risk and vulnerable backgrounds, girls like Lexa and Octavia without a stable home life to fall back on, and oh fuck, Clarke should have known. How could she not have known?

“Lex…” she breathes.

“The agreement the Headmistress offered me protects all current girls on bursaries and continues the initiative for ten years on the condition that I ensure the deal proceeds peacefully,” Lexa confirms, voice leaden and eyes on her floor. “Otherwise the new Trust would rescind all funding offers for next year onward.”

Clarke can only open her mouth and then close it again, too angry and disgusted for her brain to form words in its white-hot cloud of realisation.

“Even if the merger doesn’t go through, the status of the school has already been changed,” Lexa goes on, correctly reading Clarke’s first objection once her sting of emotions begins to dampen. “She’d cut off their funding either way.”

“I don’t expect a child to understand, but the world isn’t run on inspiring words and happy thoughts,” Nia prattles on, her tone patronising as if she honestly believes they need it explaining. “A strong business model is the only way to make this school great again.”

“Polis is already great,” Clarke hisses. “And it’s only getting better. Money and prestige, they’re not power, we—”

“Clarke,” Lexa interjects quietly. “There’s more. A merger between two schools necessitates staff redundancies. Part of the agreement was the Headmistress also promising to protect each and every member of the Polis staff next year, either with full pensions or equivalent employment at the new facilities.”

Clarke looks at Lexa and tastes the salt of blood on her tongue, the sick of her stomach slowly dawning across her face.

She hadn’t considered the teachers and staff, either.

But Lexa has.

Of course Lexa has.

“This is extortion,” Clarke spits out and wishes she was literally spitting in Nia’s face. “How fucking dare you!”

“Clarke,” Lexa murmurs, eyes focused on the stonework. “Em pleni.”

Clarke pretends to have forgotten Trigedasleng altogether, far too furious to listen to Lexa’s plea to stop her tirade. “You should be in jail for this, you can’t just—she’s a minor, you fucking bitch!”

Lexa’s eyes widen but the Headmistress is unperturbed. “Language, Miss Griffin,” she drawls, adjusting her academic gown around her shoulders and straightening the fur-lined hood. “Your parents will hear about this insolence—oh dear, no, they won’t, will they? Consider yourself lucky, child.”

The sneer hits like a slap to the face and Clarke’s mouth falls open, stunned into silence.

There’s no delay in the way Lexa lurches forward, though, her body twisting into the personification of rage as she storms up to the vile woman. “Watch yourself, Nia,” she orders, voice low and clipped, and  Clarke’s gratified to watch the Headmistress take a hasty step backward.

The Headmistress recovers quickly, however, and Clarke feels her skin crawl as the woman smirks and then strokes a knuckle against a fuming Lexa’s cheek, acrylic nails just short of scratching perfect skin. “Oh, darling,” she coos. “Do you really think you hold the power anymore? You may have had the Governors twisted around your finger but their influence is over and along with it, yours.”

Revulsion saturates Lexa’s eyes but she holds herself ramrod straight, refusing to flinch away from Nia’s spiteful touch.

“Get your hands off her,” Clarke growls between clenched teeth.

“If you want to keep your freeloading welfare students and over-entitled staff safe, you’ll learn your place and obey my orders,” Nia continues with flashing eyes, not even bothering to acknowledge Clarke. “As will your little friend over there, if she knows what’s best for her. Otherwise I’ll have no difficulty finding new budget items that could benefit from reallocations.”

Lexa sets her jaw but after a second or two she breaks their stare-off, dropping her eyes. “I will keep the peace, as agreed,” she mutters to the floor.

Clarke takes a deep breath as the beady eyes of the Headmistress slide over to her, narrowed in expectation, and then exhales in a long whoosh. “I’ll do as my Head Girl commands,” she mumbles, gaze similarly falling to the ground.

“Now you’re thinking like rational human beings instead of over-emotional teenage girls. Perhaps you’ll succeed in the real world, after all,” Nia says with a nod, calm and collected as if they’ve been discussing last-minute scheduling changes. She cracks her knuckles and smooths down her gown, satisfied, before beckoning them both back outside.

“I get it now,” Clarke tries reassuring Lexa under her breath as they’re shuffled out the door. “I would have made the same choice.”

The green of Lexa’s irises is faded and they’re churning as she holds Clarke’s gaze for a long beat.  Her practiced countenance doesn’t waiver though and she responds using only a downward flicker of her eyes, as if she’s holding the muscles of her neck so tightly she can’t chance releasing them to nod.

Behind them, Nia leans against the wall next to Titus, the Headmaster blustering about something or other while the Headmistress seems content to let him rant himself out, busying herself with notes and locating her reading glasses.

Clarke holds her stare on Lexa long after she turns away to look out over Polis, watching her scan over each beam and every carved edifice with eyes long-graven with their shape.

The fog has only deepened while they were inside and a frosty wind moans across the courtyard, blowing Clarke’s hair into her face. Lexa’s braids remain steadfast, only the little curls around her temples showing any effect of the onslaught.

It’s a horrible, heart-wrenching decision Nia’s forced upon Lexa and Clarke truly does understand, now.

She understands and it changes nothing.

In the end, it doesn’t really matter what the Headmistress is holding over Lexa’s head—only that she has the audacity to do so at all.

With a glance back to make sure Nia’s still preoccupied, Clarke steps closer to Lexa, close enough that their arms are flush. “The thing is, Nia trapped you into choosing between two bad options, Lex. Sacrificing the staff and scholarships or protecting them by endorsing this merger…it’s a false dichotomy, Lex. They’re not the only choices.”

Lexa swallows but makes no other acknowledgement of Clarke’s words.

“She deliberately pressured you with time-constraints and then distanced you from the rest of the school; you didn’t have the time and freedom to pull together a third option.”

“Clarke…,” Lexa warns.

“You didn’t. But we did.”