Shape of You

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 and becoming a doctor despite hating 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 didn't want him to find her.

It had been three years and she missed her friends but she couldn't face them. Not after everything.

"Wanheda," Roan called. It wasn't a typical stage name, Clarke knew that, 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, the term "Wanheda" meant "Commander of Death." Not something one advertised, 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 her 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 in 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 was 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 had. 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 walked around the place with blinders on, just looking for the wandering hands and making sure she didn't hit anyone as she walked through the tables.