THE 100 IMAGINES

[ZM] Asclepius.

     The snarls and incoherent yelling came to a halt the moment your blade slashed through its throat, causing it to only gargle and drop to its knees, convulsing wildly for only a few seconds before its heavily-armoured body slumped forwards, face first, into the now blood-soaked pile of dry leaves. As you crouched down next to the body, Monroe let out a shuddered breath, backing up to the trunk of the tree while you eyed her, slowly wiping the blood off the blade on the fur that the Reaper was cloaked in. The area of the woods was now silent, only a few deep breaths and sniffs came from Monroe before you stood back up and tucked the knife back in the sheath by your hip. Thin trails of blood rolled down her cheeks and down her neck before being absorbed into the material of her coat and shirt. There was also a cut along her forehead, one on her chin, a few cuts and grazes on her hands, and her trousers were torn at her left thigh were the Reaper had managed to cut her, slightly deeper than her facial wounds.

     "Why did you do that?" She asked quietly, staring at the Reaper in fear, despite it being dead.

     "Well, I wasn't going to put a bloodied blade back into my sheath, it ruins the blade."

     "No," she shuddered at the lack of tone in your voice, or, perhaps, the small gust of wind that circulated in the area that you stood in, "I mean, why did you save me?"

     "He was dead the moment the Mountain Men made him into a mindless, numbed monster. You're still one of the living, sadly."

     "Are you going to kill me?"

     "If I wanted you dead, I would have let the Reaper finish you off before I killed it," you answered her, looking down at her leg before looking back up at her face. "You need to clean those wounds."

     "I'm fine," she replied quickly.

     "No, you're not. I may not like you, or your people, but Lexa is my Commander and she still holds an alliance with your people. You need to clean those wounds," you told her again. Monroe nodded faintly and slowly began to stand up, but she quickly leaned back against the tree with a sharp hiss, clutching her thigh. Her eyes were squeezed shut, tightly, while her teeth were gritted as she tried to get over the pain. With the slight roll of your eyes, you stepped over to her and placed her left arm around your shoulders.

     Quickly, Monroe opened her eyes and looked at you, panicked. "W-What are you doing?"

     "You need help to walk, so, I'm helping you. Are all of Skaikru this stupid?" Monroe stayed quiet and, instead, let some of her weight fall onto you and she limped forwards, letting you guide her through the woods and back to the safety of Polis, where you took her inside the building and up to your room where you would clean her wounds.

-

     The moment you placed Monroe down on the chair, she hissed and bit her bottom lip, whimpering quietly while you moved away and took off your armour and weapons, dropping them at the foot of your bed before you walked off to grab a bowl of warm water, a cloth, and some bandages. While you were out of Monroe's sight, she looked around your room, before looking to see what was on the table that she was sat next to. There was a small wooden box that caught her attention, which you noticed when you walked back into the room, pausing when you saw her pulling it closer to herself. Silently, you watched as she slowly opened it and frowned. Monroe gently reached into the box and pulled out a chunk of braided hair, that had a feather entwined in the slightly blonde strands. Her thumb softly ran along the hair before she put it back and pulled out a small, sheathed blade. Not wanting to waste any more time, you made your way over to the table and placed the bowl of water down.

     She jumped in shock and quickly put the blade back in the box, slamming the lid shut. "I-I'm sorry."

     "For what?" You replied once more with no noticeable tone in your voice, which seemed to unnerve her, while you placed the bandages down on the table and pulled a stool, that was at the side of the table, over to where you were standing, with your boot.

     Monroe paused for a moment, thinking over her words before she pushed the box back over to where it was before, noticing your eyes following the box before you looked back down to the bowl and dipped the piece of cloth in it. "Everything." She looked away from your face and to the bowl. "For the war, for Mount Weather, for Ton DC... for Anya." When she looked back up at your face, she expected some sort of reaction, but she found none. "Clarke mentioned that you two were close, family, even."

     "That's in the past now, it's time to get over it."

     "There's never a time to get over the death of someone you cared about, of someone that you loved. I get that your people have to pretend that none of it ever affects you, especially you and Lexa, but it's alright to be affected."

     "Allowing your emotions to control you gets you killed, haven't your people realised that?" You sat down on the stool and squeezed some of the water from the cloth.

     "I guess not," she mumbled, allowing you to clean the blood from her face, once she realised that you aren't likely to open up to her like she thought you would.

     It remained silent between the two of you as you worked on her leg, cutting the fabric of her trousers to get to the wound before you wrapped it. Monroe glanced at the bowl, that now had slightly tinted water from her blood before she hissed out in pain once you pressed the cloth to her bloodied, cut-up, knuckles. Her eyes darted to your face, catching the look on your face as you looked up at her from her hand. She quickly averted her gaze from your eyes when she realised how close the two of you were, and, instead, looked down at her hand that was still held by yours, feeling her face heat up slightly from the long contact between the two of you.