Clarke knew better than to believe she was free, that her past wouldn't catch up with her. She left to escape from her mother's expectations. Expecting Clark to marry Finn even after finding out about Raven, becoming a doctor when she hated medicine. She even disapproved of Clarke's friendship with Bellamy Blake. Wells may have been Clarke's oldest friend but Bellamy was her best friend. Sure, their friendship started off rocky, literally butting heads whenever they were around each other, driving everyone around them completely insane. But it caused their friends to become friends and eventually the arguments turned into civil debates about something relevant.
Gods, she missed him. She thought he was going to kiss her when she said goodbye. Wondered if he'd have meant it if he had or if it would've been a last ditch effort to make her stay.
She hadn't gone far, just the city a few hours north. He could've found her if he looked, if he cared but now with this job of hers, she doesn't want him to find her.
It's been three years and she missed her friends but she couldn't face them.
"Wanheda," Roan called, it's not a typical stage name, Clarke knows but Roan picked the girls names after their first night working. Apparently Clarke caused a man's near coronary, and in Roan's made up language with his cousin Ontari the term "Wanheda" meant "Commander of Death." Not something one advertises, but she went with it, it made her feel stronger, like her outfit.
"Yeah?" she called back to him, adjusting the long red wig on her head.
"There's a bachelor party coming in tonight, you're on it."
"I thought Anya did the parties."
"Anya is pregnant and working behind the bar until she gets her body back."
Anya meant Mother, which was strangely fitting in her current situation.
"Oh," Clarke grimaced. "What about Niylah? She's been here longer than me."
"Because I want you to do it. Why are you giving me back talk?"
Clarke looked to the ground, letting it go. "Fine."
She waited for Roan to leave the dressing room before changing into her leather bra and micro skirt that left little to the imagination.
"Ready?" Niylah asked, she wore the blue wig today.
"Yeah, where does he have you?"
"Cage three."
"That's better than Four," Clarke offered.
"I'd rather be in One."
"Me too. Bachelor party duty."
"Did I forget to tell you about Anya?" Niylah asked.
"Yeah, I was blindsided by that. Thank you."
"Sorry, babe. You're going to kill it," she said placing a chaste kiss on Clarke's lips, as to not mess up either of their lipstick, before heading out to her cage, catching Lexa's glare.
Clarke would love to say that Roan was lucky, cornering the strip club market in Polis, but she knew better. Roan's family was feared, old-school Italian mob worthy fear.
"Just a bachelor party," Clarke reminded herself before stepping out in the hall to the bar. She's a waitress tonight, less tips but easier job.
"I hear a congrats are in order," she said to Anya behind the bar as she was mixing a cocktail.
"Stuff it, Wanheda," she said nodding to the table by Cage One. "Your party is here, don't forget their comp round of T."
Clarke grabbed a tray from the shelf, counting six heads at the table and poured each a shot of the cheapest tequila they have. She carried the tray above her head, "Hey, guys! Welcome to Azgeda. I'm Wanheda, I'll be serving you this evening. Who's the lucky groom?" Clarke asked, she walks around the place with blinders on, just looking for the wandering hands and making sure she doesn't hit anyone as she's walking through the tables.
The guys all pointed to the cute Asian she didn't really look at but saw some defining features.
"Well, congratulations from all of us. Some complimentary shots," she said handing the full shot glasses to each guy. "Could I take your order for you guys? We have all domestic beers and Goose Island IPA and Sam Adams. Guinness and Heineken as well."
"Coors."
"Michelob."
"Sam Boston."
"Sam."
"Bud."
"Guinness," a deep voice said next to her and her heart stopped when she thought she recognized it.
"Why do you have to one up us all the time?" one of the other guys asked.
"What? I'm not supposed to like what I like because you can't handle it? Shut up, Murphy."
Clarke's face dropped, she definitely knew the owner of the deep voice, she probably knew them all. Thank the Gods that she's covered in make up so they don't recognize her. Monty is getting married? "I'll get your drinks," she said, her voice faltered.
Wanheda is a façade. The red wig, make up and outfit, even her voice changes. Clarke becomes a seductress that is only every seen within the four walls of Azgeda. She isn't proud of what she does to men but some are fun to mess with. Bellamy Blake and her old friends from Arkadia certainly weren't on the list.
Clarke stepped behind the bar to get the boys their beers.
"Who's Sir Broods-a-Lot?" Anya nodded to the bachelor party.
Clarke refused to look over, refused to make sure it's actually him, Bellamy. So she shrugged, "Groomsmen?"
"Obviously, but he's watching you like a hawk, not like they normally do either."
"I knew him in college. His younger sister's best friend dated the same guy as me at the same time and after that we kept running into each other and all our friends became friends and my mom was being my mom and I left. I thought he was going to kiss me when I left."
"Would you have left if he did?"
"Depends on what I felt," Clarke shrugged. If Bellamy kissed her three years ago, she would have finished art school. She would have stayed, he made her mother bearable.
She placed Bellamy's Guinness on the tray with the rest of the table's beers and headed back over.
"Wanheda, wonderful," Jasper said. If only he knew. "When's the next show?"
"Natblida should be out in a minute, she's wonderful," Clarke smiled back at him.
The next few hours went by smoothly, she did her scheduled dance, leaving the bachelor party to fend for themselves for five minutes. She served them another hour before Roan pulled her aside, someone wanted a dance in a private room.
Clarke nodded and went to the hall with the rooms and opened the door to find Bellamy sitting in the chair. She nearly froze, but quickly held her composure together to hide her true self. He can't know. "You wanted a dance?" she asked.
"No."
"Oh, these rooms are for dances, you shouldn't—"
"Clarke," he said. She knew it was a test. She knew he knew, he's spent the whole night staring at her, he had to know.
"I don't know who that is."
"That's a wig, Princess, you think I'd forget your eyes? It's been three years, I think your mom got the point."
Clarke grimaced, "If you don't want a dance then I have to go."
"What if I kiss you?" he asked.
"You'd get kicked out, ruining your friend's night."
"You know his name and you know I meant three years ago. If I kissed you, would you have stayed? Anya said you would've."
"Anya spoke to you?" she scoffed in disbelief.
"She confirmed you're my princess."
"Yours? No one is yours, people aren't possessions."
"There she is," he smirked. Shit. "Anyway, if I did, would it have changed anything?"
"I'm not your princess, I—I don't know."
He stood and closed the distance between them, she shouldn't allow this, she should leave or do her damn job. This isn't allowed but this is Bellamy, she can't be Wanheda around him.
"You may have changed, but you once were my princess," he whispered, stripping the wig off her head, revealing the shorter blonde waves.
"It's a wig, so what?"
"Clarke," he sighed, tired of her lie but she has to or she'll go back with him and she can't go back to Arkadia.
"That's not my name."
"Wanheda, we miss you. You know where I'll be when you're tired of dancing for Roan fucking King," he said angrily, shoving the wig at her and stormed out of the private room.
Clarke was adjusting her wig when Roan walked in a minute later. "Everything okay? He went in for a dance and came out annoyed, do I have to tell him the rules?"
"No, his party is from my hometown, he wanted me to confess that I'm me, but I—if I do, I'd have to go back and I can't go back there."
"So tell him and tell him you can't go. The customer is always right, right? Well, no touching. If you're his fantasy, be his fantasy for the night. He paid for it, didn't he?"
Clarke shook her head, "I can't dance for him."
"Ex?"
"No, my best friend, it'd be weird."
"Weirder than him finding you working at a strip club?"
"Equally as weird, but dancing for him would be more awkward."
"What do you want, Clarke?"
"I wanted to escape my mother, after that, I didn't really think about."
"And you just left your friends behind?"
"I said goodbye to Monty and Bellamy, they needed to hear it from me. I just—if it was this big thing, telling everyone, I couldn't have left."
"So, you told Monty and Bellamy and then left?"
"Yes."
Roan thought for a moment and Clarke always hated when he thought because things never go right when that happens.
"Get back to work, Wanheda."
Clarke rolled her eyes and went out to Anya. "Shortest dance I've ever seen," she said placing a lime on the rim of a glass, looked like a rum and coke.
"I didn't dance."
"And your wig is askew," she reached up to adjust it, Clarke knew she'd be smelling lime for a week. "No dance? Did he get handsy?"
Clarke scoffed, Bellamy handsy? That's funny. "No, he just wanted me to be someone I'm not."
"He wanted you to be Clarke?" she asked softly so the guy down the bar couldn't hear.
Clarke opened her mouth to answer but then Murphy was leaning against the bar. "What's a guy got to do to get some service?"
"I'll be right over," Clarke told him and he scoffed, turning back to the table of boys. And Clarke found Roan and Bellamy talking to each other while the other guys spoke to each other.
"That doesn't look good."
"Oh, fuck. What is Roan doing?"
"Making amends for your lack of a dance," Anya offered.
"I should probably get over there."
"Have fun," Anya grumbled, taking the drink she made to its buyer. Clarke headed over to the bachelor party.
"Wanheda," Roan nodded and Bellamy's head whipped around and she avoided his gaze.
"Does anybody need anything?" she asked with her sweetest smile.
"I would love a dance from Natblida," she heard, finding Murphy.
"We can make that happen," Roan smiled. "Wanheda, we need to talk."
Clarke nodded, making sure that the rest of the party didn't need anything before following Roan to his office.
"He paid for a dance."
"And he walked out before I could do my job," she argued.
"And he still gets a dance."
"Since when? You love telling people no."
"He is your friend, Clarke, I don't know what happened, what made you run, but if he can't get you, you can do your job and dance for him."
"Or I can quit."
"Are you going to quit?"
"If I go back in that room with him, he's taking me home. Do you want that?"
"You're one of my best girls, but if that's what you want—"
"Whether I want it or not, it's going to happen, he's that good."
Roan squared his shoulders and Clarke knew he didn't believe her. "Do your job, Wanheda."
Clarke sighed and nodded, walking back out to the floor, her eyes landing on Bellamy's almost immediately. He's always watched her, he watched all his friends carefully, but this was different. The way his eyes were on her, the relief in them for knowing that she's Clarke Griffin and not Wanheda or dead, it was like he was worried for the three years they were separated. Of course he was.
She walked right over to him and grabbed his hand, practically yanked him out of his chair.
"What are you doing?" he asked once they were in the hallway.
"My job."
"Clarke…" he sighed.
She opened the door and they went inside, she closed the door behind them, locking the door and having him sit in the leather chair in the center of the room.
"My name is Wanheda. That's what you're going to call me."
"I don't want this."
"You paid for it."
"I paid for fifteen minutes with Clarke, not fifteen minutes with Wanheda."
"Clarke isn't here, she doesn't exist."
"Don't say that."
She pushed the button on the remote by the door and spun back around to look at Bellamy as the intro of the song began. "We're not leaving until I dance. It's what you paid for regardless of what you say, that is what you paid for."
We should be together, was whisper-sung over the speakers and Clarke wanted to kill Roan. He would… he shouldn't have, this whole thing, this whole situation is going to send her home with Bellamy and she didn't want that. She didn't want to see her mother ever again but she's going to have to. She stifled her love for the man sitting in front of her but she can't do this without feeling something. She can't pretend he's someone else. She can't fake her facials.
Her hips swayed to the music and she danced in front of Bellamy, hating that he was who she was dancing for. Hating that he didn't want this just as much as she didn't.
"Clarke, please. Stop," he said, his voice strained.
Clarke spun around and avoided looking into his eyes, avoided his hair, just stared at his chest as her body snapped and swayed to the song.
She finally knelt on either side of his hips, giving him a lap dance. She couldn't control her own emotions, she didn't want to be this close to him this way.
"Don't call me that," she said, her words breaking.
"Can I touch you?"
"No," she breathed, grinding down, into his lap.
No friends, no phone, just a little sex with the Netflix on. Clarke's mind drifted to years ago when she and Bellamy were friends and they actually spent a whole day on the couch binge watching the first season of Hemlock Grove on Netflix. It broke her, her silent sobs went with the stupid, emotionally charged song. She tried hiding her face from him, her fucking boobs in his face.
"Please, Clarke, don't cry. He's making you do this, I get it. Come back with me, you don't have to see your mom, you can stay with me."
"Please, stop," she sighed, getting off him and shook her ass in his face.
"I can't. I can't leave without you, not after finally finding you."
Clarke collapsed to the floor, curling herself in a ball, the song wasn't over, but she couldn't finish. She couldn't allow herself to feel everything she was, she couldn't go with him, she couldn't accept that he wants her like she wants—wanted—him. "You haven't been looking."
"You said goodbye, I wasn't ready for goodbye. Come back with me. Screw the guys, screw your mom, come back for me."
Clarke shook her head, "I—I can't, Bellamy."
"I forgive you, they forgive you. We need you, I need you."
"Do you know how hard it was to leave? How I almost turned back because I was going to miss you."
"You missed me?"
"Of course I did! You—you're my best friend."
"How? It's been three years! No phone calls or texts, nothing to tell me that you're safe and I come out for Monty's bachelor party and find you working for this asshole. You're dancing around half naked for strange men—"
"Are you jealous? You rather me be dancing for you?"
"If that's what you want. I—you're important to me, Clarke. I just want—"
"I don't love you, Bellamy," she said, the words breaking her heart even more. "I can't love you."
"I don't need you to, I just want to know that you're okay. That you're happy."
"I'm happy," she choked out.
"You don't look happy."
"Because I'm crying! I just had to dance for you. I can't do this! It killed me to do this."
Bellamy got up and knelt in front of Clarke, cupping her jaw to look at him. "Then don't, but if this is what you want. You want to stay here and work for fucking Roan, at least call me every once in a while to let me know you're okay."
Clarke nodded, her head falling against his shoulder.
"I've worried about you every day, I know you wouldn't want me to, but you're like family to me, so I worry."
"Thank you, Bell. Could you—please don't tell them that it's me. I—I don't think I could look at them if they knew."
"Fine, but they're going to see right through my fake grimace."
"Don't let it be fake, I'm not going with you, that's what you want."
"I want you safe and you say this is safe."
Clarke didn't say anything, couldn't. This wasn't safe in the way that Bellamy wanted it to be. Roan tried keeping them safe, but more often than not he failed. Clarke couldn't tell Bellamy that, she couldn't tell him that what happens in the private rooms stays in the private rooms, because the other girls talked. She's been lucky but she knew her time will come, that she will be the one that has something unsavory to share with Niylah and Lexa.
"They were about to leave when you dragged me in here. May we meet again," he said, pulling away from Clarke, standing.
She looked up to find his hand out to help her up. She took it and looked him in the eyes, "I hate those words."
"Humor me, Princess."
"Princesses don't wear lingerie to work."
"Clarke."
"May we meet again," she said weakly, that's what she said to him when she left three years ago. He knew that and knew how hard it's going to be staying away, but maybe that was his point. She shouldn't stay away.
Bellamy walked out the door, giving Clarke one last look before letting the door close between them, leaving Clarke to collect herself before heading back out, finding the table that held her old friends earlier was empty.
"Your lover is gone," Anya said at the bar.
"He's not my… what did you say to him?"
"He asked who you were, but I didn't tell him. I didn't say that you know him, that he knows you. He just knew, left his number in case you lost it."
"I—I didn't."
"From the quiver in his voice, he cares immensely about you."
"I know," Clarke said, her voice breaking. "I just can't go back there, that town is filled with horrible memories."
"This place isn't much better, Cl—Wanheda. I'm not telling you what to do, but I'd go with him if I could."
"We aren't like that, I was his sister's best friend, she was mine. After a while it went from me asking her for advice and going to her when I got news to him, he was my best friend, but she's always more important to him and I don't want that to change, it's that sibling bond they have. But after what happened, I just can't be in that town, losing him was hard, but I can't—" Clarke shook her head, not really knowing where she was taking it, her freaking emotions were on overdrive. Another reason she can't be around Bellamy Blake, the aftershocks are worse than the earthquake.
