Chapter 1:

In retrospect, the idea was completely absurd and idiotic. Who thinks it's a great idea to give teenagers moonshine, music, and access to weapons? Honestly! There had to be some type of law against that combination somewhere…oh, yeah—there were laws like that on the Ark. Yet, they weren't on the Ark anymore and they weren't (technically) fighting for survival either. So, when Octavia gallantly suggested that they "settle into" their new home amongst the Mountain People, Clarke sighed and let Octavia proceed with her party planning.

That moment of agreement faded as she saw the mess unfolding before her. People weren't just buzzed—no they were highly intoxicated. She was an entirely different color than her previous faint blush. She now sported a pale complexion that would be named, if it so happened to be a crayon, what-the-hell-have-I-done white. She saw her friends throwing back drinks, high-fiving and grinded on each other. If she were still in charge…

"Clarke!" Octavia slurred, moving her hips to the beat of the heavy bass, "Drink more!" Octavia didn't look sad. She never looked sad… but, she was entirely sad and completely upset ever since Lincoln "abandoned" her. Clarke didn't want to throw it in Octavia's face that Lincoln wasn't the type of person to abandon her. She was keeping quiet on that note until she had proof to support her theory. Octavia looked charming in her clean clothes…but she didn't look like Octavia—not the way Clarke saw Octavia. She looked like a scared little girl with a broken heart and broken wings. Clarke thought about how Bellamy must be dealing with it-seeing his sister so hurt.

Clarke watched Octavia with that look in her eyes. Soon, her mouth fell open at the sight of Monty downing multiple glasses of his moonshine. She shoved passed Octavia, sending her a glare that said "this is out of control" before snatching the remaining glass out of Monty's hand. "Are you insane?" She hissed, "Alcohol poisoning is a thing!"

"Chill out mom." Monty laughed along with the other kids that seemed to enjoy his drunken disrespect and flushed face. Clarke, without much thought, grabbed a fistful of Monty's shirt and brought him so close to her face that she could see his pupils react.

"Listen to me when I say that your night is officially over. I don't want to see your face around here. I don't want to see you pick up a single drink on your way out. Go back to your quarters, get in bed and I'll be by in let's say…" She glanced at her watch, "Forty-five minutes. If you aren't asleep, Monty Greene…so help me god I will personally put you on lock-down."

"You really don't have that type of authority." Some jackass with a gun hanging off his side said with a smug smile on his face. "You aren't a leader anymore, Princess. You're one of us." She couldn't even remember her name because he was so flustered.

"Back off." Clarke said angrily, "Now." She released Monty and watched him scramble out of the door. She wasn't in the mood for some guy to get in her face. She'd had enough of that once her reign over the juveniles ended. At least, that's what she kept telling herself to make up for the fact that her reign had ended so quickly.

"What are you going to do about it Princess?" He asked, his hand gripping the piece threateningly. "I think you're the one that needs to back off."

Clarke glared at him, stepping forward. "I'm not scared of you."

The teenager took his gun from his side and began to point it to her. "Back off, man." Miller came in out of nowhere and stood between Clarke and the gun. Clarke thought about how nice Miller looked for a moment…how different. In that moment, she didn't like different.

"Move, Miller you aren't second anymore. You're just like her- no authority." The kid aimed his gun at Miller, motioning once for him to get out of the way. Miller stood strong before her. "Come on man, move!"

"I'm not moving." He said. "Shoot me." That's when Clarke smelt it. God, it was everywhere. She didn't know if it was just Miller or if it had been the whole place but the overpowering smell of moonshine filled her senses.

"I'm not moving." The kid mocked and then he pulled the trigger. The scene unfolded before her eyes too fast to process it in that but when she fell down to grip Miller's foot instinctively, she grasped what had happened. Harper jumped in a shoved the gun down…Miller and Harper protected her… She looked down at the blood covering her hands while she applied pressure on his foot.

"Son of a bitch!" He screamed. Clarke knew his words were abnormal…at least, they were to her. The party was quickly dispersing as people started to run. Clarke knew what was going to follow this event so she took a second to search the room.

Her eyes locked on Octavia, "Go." She said sternly, "Get in your room, and don't leave it." Clarke wasn't in the mood to deal with Octavia getting arrested for hosting the event. By that- she meant she wasn't in the mood for Bellamy to yell at her for letting Octavia be so reckless.

"Clarke-" She tried to argue.

"I'll take the fall, O. Just go." Octavia nodded before running behind people, blending in. Clarke was confident that she would make it to her room because Octavia was 1). Resourceful and 2). Able to hide fairly well. Her eyes returned to Miller's bleeding foot and his string of profanities. She knew the wound wasn't going to result in amputation or anything too seriously because the bullet went straight through, luckily dodging any extremely important areas. It was going to put him off of his feet for a while which would completely piss him off. "Harper, I'm going to need you to keep pressure on this."

"Me? What? Why?" She asked, her eyes full of fear.

Clarke sighed, "Because I'm about to be arrested."