Chapter Four

Lexa did not understand the purpose of gloves and the protective gear the Skaikru brought with them. She also didn't understand the terms 'MMA' and 'Muay Thai' that they used for fighting. Fighting was fighting, fighting was combat, fighting was honor. It was how she was raised, it was her way of life, and she didn't need tools or fancy terms to define her style or her life.

Okay, she was being unfairly rebellious, but still, gloves for punching was downright idiotic. How would your knuckles and the bones connecting to them strengthen? It would take too long to strengthen them with another method. But who was she to judge? The Skaikru were a different people, and she would respect their customs and quirks. While many chose not to reply in kind, she refused to let it affect her view of them all. The bad apples shall not ruin the impression of the entire basket.

Lexa watched Clarke step into the Ring, the large octagon combined with Quint's massive size dwarfing her in all aspects other than her determination. She could see the flames dancing within deep blue eyes, and she knew then that she would be training Clarke at 8:00 AM tomorrow morning. She would start training tomorrow regardless, but she felt that any sort of deal would create a spark to create the flame of competition in Clarke's soul.

Prove your strength, Clarke kom Skaikru.


Lexa had to clench the armrests of her chair with a ferocity never seen before to keep herself seated. Quint had started out with a wild swing at Clarke's head, which she thankfully ducked, only to have his other fist smash into her face. That was enough to force Lexa to stand, her entire body straining towards her dare-she- say friend. They formed an alliance together, she should protect the alliance.

But she could not, and was forced to watch Quint brutally beat the blonde artist.

That was all that she was protecting, right?

The fight was taking unusually long, most fights only lasting three minutes. Quint kept swinging, his punches heavy and clearly causing pain to the blonde artist. The Grounders were known for finishing fights with quick, brutal intensity. Five minutes into the fight, Clarke caught Lincoln's eyes, and then Lexa's. Lexa could see bruises forming on Clarke's jaw, and her lower lip was busted. The orphan warrior smashed her clenched fist into the armrest of her chair, the warm metal denting ever so slightly as she roared above the screams of the crowd.

"MOVE CLARKE KOM SKAIKRU! THAT IS AN ORDER!" Perhaps an order would piss Clarke off, and she would take it out on Quint.

Clarke ducked under a heavy left hook, and spun out of the way of nasty, quick jab before she circled around Quint, always on the balls of her feet. She delivered a quick elbow to his jaw before circling away with an elegance that Lexa took a moment to admire. Sweat dripped down the sides of her face and she took a moment to catch her breath. Suddenly, in a burst of speed and strength, she slammed her shin down to smash into Quint's thigh with lightning speed, the pain akin to being beaten with a solid wooden baseball bat. The large warrior did not cry out, and instead clenched his teeth and fought back tears, lest he seem weak in front of so many people.

It was a steady game of bob and weave for Clarke, letting Quint tire himself out with heavy punches and blind charges fueled by rage. Rage can be a powerful ally in a fight, but if you cant control yourself, your fuel is wasted, and you make mistakes that can cost you a match, or, your life.

The lumbering oaf pulled the artist into a vicious headlock, steadily crushing her skull as he heaved for breath.

This was the mistake Clarke had been waiting for.

Now matter how strong you are, you are weak without skill, and you only gain skill by shedding the weakness you once possessed in the area you desire skill within. So I guess we are all weak, seeing as none can learn everything, so none can have complete skill and mastery.

And of course, the one time Clarke remembers a quote from English, it's in the middle of having her brains mushed with her skull.

"Some brain damage might teach you a lesson Sky Girl," Quint growled, low enough for only Clarke to hear as he crushed her skull with his thick arms. "Don't embarrass me or my brother, or next time, you'll-"

This was the mistake Clarke had been waiting for.

She couldn't wrap her arms around his waist, so she settled for smashing her fist into his side instead of taking him down with a floating rib maneuver. Quint cried out and staggered, the force just enough to knock the wind from his lungs, giving Clarke the chance to smash her heel into the side of his knee, not hard enough to break, but hard enough to render him crippled for just the perfect amount of time. In this amount of time, Clarke snatched the small rubber dagger attached to her leg and held it to Quint's throat, signifying a kill. Murder was not acceptable at Grounder High, even with war games every month, and it wasn't accepted at Alliance either, so to signify a kill, fighters were given a singular weapon of their choice that was re-made in rubber.

It didn't matter that she was kom Skaikru, she had achieved victory against one of the largest and nastiest of the students at the school, and with a patience and ferocity that the Grounders admired. She had earned their respect, and she knew this when they roared for her victory. Drafting Day was the first day of the year to earn a reputation at Alliance, and at one time, at Grounder.

Clarke's reputation? The Patient Enemy. She would wait for her opportune moment to strike, and she would be rewarded for her patience.

Lexa and Lincoln did not cheer, but they both wore prideful expressions on their faces. Neither were incredibly close to the artist, but they both played a part in her success, and for that, they were proud.

Clarke, nose bloodied, ribs bruised, but ego boosted to new heights, all but swaggered of stage, confidence oozing from her very being despite the searing pain in different parts of her body. She appeared to stalk over to Lexa, a prideful lioness approaching her fellow after a successful hunt. She certainly felt successful, having proven to Lexa, once again, that she wasn't a weak Sky Girl in the slightest.

Lexa gave Clarke a prideful smile, and inclined her head in respect, "You fight well for a beginner, Clarke of the Sky People."

"Thanks, Heda" Clarke sassed gently, "Training tomorrow?"

Lexa nodded, "Training tomorrow."

Clarke grinned before shouting in triumph, pumping her fists in the air. The crowd joined her in their yells, Grounder and Sky Person alike.


Hours later, when Drafting Day had been completed, the students of Alliance celebrated in an enormous party held by Indra and Anya, which of course went against the wishes of Abby and Old Man Jaha, Kane having been completely supportive of the party after seeing Clarke's performance. Apparently getting the crap beaten out of you for five minutes, then beating the crap out of the person who did in the beginning is a good incentive to party, even among the great, can-do-no-wrong Marcus Kane.

The party was in full swing when Clarke made an appearance, having required medical attention from the Healers before she could leave the school. Of course, Indra and Anya barely supervised even during school ours, trusting Lexa and Lincoln to take charge and prevent conflict. While Lincoln was no where near as powerful as Lexa, he did have power, even more because Lexa gave him it through their friendship. So alcohol was passed around to each and every victor and new team member. Those who did not partake in Drafting Day at all were not permitted at the celebration, only under special circumstances were you allowed otherwise.

There was alcohol. Everywhere. Tequila, wine, whisky, bourbon, margaritas with so many ingredients it would give you a headache just thinking about it. Beer of every brand could be found in either red cups or carved wooden ones that came with handles, the cans and kegs having been discarded as soon as possible to reduce the amount of evidence to be found. Many students were dancing, others hunting for funnels for drinking contests while Clarke was sure that she heard Jasper try and start a wet t-shirt contest.

Clarke wasn't surprised when Bellamy staggered over, already having been beaten by Lexa in a competition involving shots. Bellamy quit at two, and Lexa had laughed and clapped him on the back before rejoining the festivities with a beer clutched in her hand.

"Hmmurg, hiii Clerke, howya doin?" Bellamy slurred, almost falling flat on his face only to be caught by Lincoln, who sighed before lifting the drunk boy onto his shoulder.

"I'll take him back to his and Octavia's place, then I'll be back and we'll drink to your victory!" Lincoln announced to Clarke, smiling, his eyes shining from the alcohol he had already consumed. His motor skills seemed to be mostly unaffected by the many drinks he had consumed. Grounders were quite skilled at handling their liquor, unlike many of the 100 that were present and partying alongside the Grounders.

Clarke laughed, nodding before they separated. Clarke searched high and low for Lexa, and soon, she caught sight of the girl. She was grinding up against another girl in their grade, a Grounder with hair the color of soft milk chocolate and eyes deep grey orbs that Clarke could view from her spot ten feet away with startling clarity. The Grounder was pressed against Lexa's front, her hands going behind Lexa's head to tangle in her hair as her hips were guided by Lexa's calloused hands. Clarke could feel a tightness in her chest that hadn't been there before, and it grew steadily worse as she watched Lexa dance with that Grounder.

Somehow, Lexa caught sight of Clarke, and broke away from Sadia, earning her a playful pout which she ignored. Lexa walked over to Clarke, the numerous shots she consumed not affecting her motor skills in the slightest. She was anything but a light weight, especially growing up in the Tondc household with Lincoln.

She smiled brightly at her friend, the alcohol making her cheerier than usual-or, well, cheery. "Clarke of the Sky People has graced the party with her presence." She teased, forest green eyes shining brightly, just as Lincoln's had.

Clarke mustered up a smile, "Hey Lexa, sorry to interrupt your little grind-fest over there." Clarke couldn't conceal the slight bite in her voice, but Lexa was just drunk enough not to notice, and for that, the blonde was grateful.

"It is of no consequence," Lexa slurred slightly, "Sadia is not exactly my preference."

Clarke felt, mischievous, to say the least. With a small, sultry smile, she asked her inebriated friend, "What is your preference?"

Lexa chuckled gently before slurring slightly, throwing her arm around Octavia, who had stumbled over after four jello-shots she took with some random Grounder she had befriended. Octavia stumbled slightly under the unexpected weight of the Grounder warrior, but found her balance quickly.

"Apparently I like blonde chicks with a whole lot of secrets that always get me stuck in deep shit!" Lexa sang, taking a swig of whatever was in Octavia's cup. The alcohol was slowly getting to her. Octavia had just enough to drink where everything was funny, and things that were funny to a sober person were doubly funny, so naturally, she broke into a fit of high pitch giggles until her ribs ached.

Clarke blushed slightly, shaking her head. Who knew that Lexa Heda was a happy, loud, singing drunk? This was truly an odd spectacle, one that Clarke planned to enjoy, and also protect from the wandering hands of Sadia, who was no doubt back for another grind-fest with Lexa.

Clarke chased the other teenager away with a few choice expletives and a singular threat of violence, and turned back to her now incredibly tipsy friend. Thank God Lexa could hold her liquor, otherwise she would be stark naked running about the school grounds singing Kriess Bran at the top of her lungs.

So, like any good friend would do, Clarke wrapped Lexa's arm around her shoulders, and began to take Lexa home.


Thankfully, Clarke had gotten Lincoln to, thirty minutes later, drunkenly stumbled to show her the way to his and Lexa's shared place that Indra had purchased for them. Of course, the thirty minutes it took to get him to lead the way allowed for Lexa to have several extra drinks, and even succeed in having Clarke down another. When Clarke lead Lexa in her room she collapsed on her bed, groaning as she nuzzled her pillow. Clarke giggled, more than just a little tipsy.

"Night Heda," Clarke whispered, poking Lexa in the ribs before running from the room at the sound of her displeased groan.

Lincoln had crashed on the couch, his legs taking over the coffee table as his torso hung from the edge of the warm brown leather couch that faced a flat screen television. Clarke sighed, shaking her head. She had tried to move him earlier, but the boy weighed the equivalent of a boulder, so she placed some pillows on the floor before going to find Monty and Jasper.


"Hey Claaaaarke!" Jasper slurred, hanging off Monty's shoulder as he struggled to remain upright.

Monty sighed, his thumb and forefinger rubbing the bridge of his nose. He had only had two drinks, which was certainly not enough to give him the strength to deal with a completely wasted Jasper. His shirt was soaked on one side, and it reeked of alcohol, no doubt caused by clumsy Jasper, whose drink was almost empty.

"Clarke!" Jasper barked, "Wanna see my butt?!"

Before Clarke could answer, Jasper stumbled around, yanked his pants and underwear down and mooned her and group of wasted Grounders, and as he pulled up his pants, promptly passed out, falling on his face with a firm thud. He had managed to pull up his underwear, so the Bat Signal was on display on Jasper's butt, which was stuck in the air as his knees were locked together on the floor by his pants. A loud snore was emitted by the lump that was Jasper, and a small puddle of drool was quick to form on the floor.

What did Clarke do? She giggled.


A/N: Ta Daaaa! My first shot at drunk Jasper and drunk Lexa. Enjoy the free, happy Lexa while she lasts. Some not so nice stuff will be coming in later, but somewhat soon chapters. Clarke and Lexa ARE somewhat friends, but they aren't the 'let's have pillow fights and braid each others hair' kind of friends.

The 'English quote' Clarke thinks of is actually something I thought up in the shower!

I don't know if I'm happy with how the plot will change with Clarke being the victor of her Drafting Day fight...

BROWNIE POINTS, A DEDICATION AND (MAYBE) A SPOILER TO WHOEVER TELLS ME WHO KRIESS BRAN IS IN THE REAL WORLD! Use the wiki if you have to, but double points if you don't and already know from obsession and memory.

123a456e: Dude! Three updates in two days man! Now its four! I can only write so much and I still haven't done any of my break homework! XD But don't worry, I don't like making people wait too long for stuff like that, and I have some chapters almost ready to go! But I might scrap them... eh, I'll decide when it isn't two in the morning yeah?

I actually might finish another chapter tomorrow, or I'll post for 'Eyes Are the High-Light of Her Day'.