Chapter 9
Imogen screamed at the top of her lungs, pain ripping through her body like fire. Her swollen belly clenched powerfully in a merciless contraction.
Sweat glistened over her body from the long hours of labour, dressed in a thin, short white night dress that hitched around her hip bones as she lay on the bed of her and Thor's chambers. She screamed for all she was worth at the pain. She didn't care. It hurt like Hel.
Her mother gripped her hand hard at her side, murmuring encouraging words softly into her daughter's ear. To Imogen, though, it sounded more like praying.
And she had every right to pray.
This felt so, so wrong.
Tears glistened in Imogen's eyes as her body slumped, released at last for a blessed moment from the pain. She tipped her head back against the pillow, taking deep ragged breaths. Her hand flew to her stomach, to the source of her pain. Why was this happening? She was only seven months...
It had hit her in the morning, just hours after she'd met with her mother and the women to make more clothes for her future child... only that child wasn't waiting anymore. Just hours, and her needles had dropped to the floor with a fateful clatter, the first waves of pain seizing her. She hadn't understood. Hel, she still didn't! This wasn't right! They weren't prepared for this for another two months!
Her chest heaved with troubled breaths as she gasped for air, knowing another contraction wasn't far away. "Where's Thor?" she gasped. "Thor..."
She hadn't seen him for days. It was some business she didn't understand, that Thor didn't talk to her about. Whatever it was had been building and building for weeks, but the last few days... he'd barely left the court's counsel. Certainly, not to come back to her, to rest...
And now she was giving birth to their son in their chambers. She'd been sleeping in this room alone for nearly a week now.
Her eyes glanced to her left, to the bedside table. Her one. They each had a bedside table, and Imogen's was to the left; and inside the draw was her bundle bewitched powder. To her relief, the draw stayed closed. If anyone found it...
The thoughts were driven from her head as another contraction gripped her and she screwed her eyes shut, knees drawing up instinctively. She'd bore this for nine hours - word had to have reached Thor by now. He had to be coming surely. He wouldn't miss this. He wouldn't miss the birth of his son, his future heir. He'd want to be here for when he arrived.
Unless something was holding him back, Imogen realised. Her blood ran cold. He'd been held back from her for days already - what was one more? It would be easy to block the message of her labour if the right people found out first.
People like Lord Roanull.
He was advising Thor through whatever was going in the court chambers, he was the one who had inevitably convinced Thor to stay so long as it was.
If he caught the messenger ... he wouldn't pass it on to Thor. He'd let Imogen suffer this alone. Of course, he would. He hated her. He wouldn't have second thoughts about keeping Thor in the dark like this just to spite her.
It filled her with fear though. She didn't want to fear that man, but the thought of going through this, this pain, this worry, without Thor at her side... she was terrified.
"My husband!" she cried, desperate for the women to listen to her.
The young, sweet maid caught her eye as she ran a damp, cool cloth over Imogen's sweating face. Her eyes were glistening softly. "The King will be here soon." she reassured, gently. "Word has been sent."
Her voice was soft and tender, the girl's eyes gentle and...it made Imogen's heart stop. That pity. That sympathy. That fear. Gods... pain started to ripple over her middle again but she didn't even have the will to shout anymore as her eyes numbly lingered on the girl, even as her gaze fell timidly and she retreated to the foot of the bed with the other ladies in waiting and the midwife. Imogen didn't forget that look though, and it frightened her.
Then an excruciating pain tore at her and she howled a broken cry, feeling her spirit start to shatter. This was too much, she thought. Even with Shelby it hadn't been this bad. She remembered. This pain was different. Was wrong. It shouldn't be like this...
Where was Frigga? Imogen thought breathlessly in her head. The goddess of childbearing should know what she was doing. But she wasn't here. If only she was, her grandchild would be in safe hands. Imogen didn't trust anyone more than her mother-in-law to deliver her child, as premature as it would be.
Why was everyone gone? It was like fate was determined to have her suffer for this child...
Punishing her even.
She'd used magic...
"Blood!"
The shriek caught Imogen's attention and her eyes glanced down the bed; the young maid had her hand over her startled mouth, eyes wide with shock as she stared between Imogen's legs.
The midwife pushed her aside in a heartbeat. Imogen's heart raced fearfully as the midwife dipped out of sight and Imogen threw her head back as more white hot pain crippled her womb and deeper. She caught a glimpse of the woman's face though; frowning. Urgent frowning. Something was wrong. Blood wasn't good, Imogen thought. Not with that reaction.
Her heart thudded wildly out of control and she felt her pores open in torrents of sweat, more from fear than exertion now. Another cry bled from her lips.
With Shelby Imogen had stayed near silent through her contractions. She'd gritted her teeth and bore it, not much louder than a groan leaving her lips.
This time though there was no staying silent. She couldn't. They pain was more than last time, deeper, sharper. It felt more like she'd been stabbed than gone into labour! And this time had drawn blood... a lot of blood, Imogen thought as she noted the great dampness on her behind, between her thighs.
Finally, Imogen caught sight of the midwife again as she straightened up slightly from between Imogen's legs. The Queen's eyes were wide and desperate, but no one answered her gaze.
Not even her mother.
That scared her more than anything. What? What was happening? What did they know that she didn't?
Her racing heart only pounded harder as the midwife straightened up and turned away, grabbing one of the ladies-in-waiting roughly by the arm and dragging her with her. They stopped at the door, their backs to the Queen.
Imogen watched fearfully. What news were they sharing that they didn't want her to know? What? She felt like a fool with frightened eyes and fearful heart - she was usually so strong, so dignified. There was no place for that though. She was exhausted, the pain unimaginable, blood where her prince was supposed to be coming, and hushed talking.
"Go to the King." the midwife ordered the girl in an urgent voice under her breath, at the door. Imogen hardly heard her. She heard enough though; "Tell him his wife may not survive."
Imogen's heart stopped.
May not...survive.
She was going to die.
She didn't think anything else before the world swam, and she fell back, passing out amongst the sheets.
XXX
For the next few hours, Imogen flittered in and out of consciousness. She'd wake, only long enough to think of how she was still alive before the exhaustion and horror would crash back onto her and she would faint again, overwhelmed.
Suddenly, her mother's prayers had new found meaning: she wasn't praying for the wellbeing of her grandchild, but that of her daughter too.
The screaming had stopped a while ago. Imogen couldn't scream anymore. She was too exhausted, surrendering to her fate in silence. Her eyes cried. Her body still sweated. Imogen's heart beat faintly though; she was going to die...so young, yet she was going to die...
The young maid stayed diligently at her head, wiping Imogen's sweaty face, murmuring soft words to her Queen and Lady. Normally, Imogen would have hated it, loathed the boldness of the girl... but she was dying and she didn't care anymore. She was scared. She'd never felt such fear before, and her dignity went out of the window. She cried and held her mother's hand...and the girl's too.
"Please..." she finally begged, as more pain crippled her body and she screwed her eyes shut, turning her head to the young girl. She wasn't even sure what she was pleading for.
Small hands pushed the damp waves of Imogen's hair back from her face, smoothly, moving down to cup the Queen's cheek for a comforting second. Imogen's grasped for the little fingers, squeezing tightly. The girl said nothing of it.
"Fear not, my Lady." she said soothingly. "You are doing well." Even Imogen scoffed in her head. The girl knew nothing of childbirth - how did she know?! Even the midwife didn't dare give Imogen any information! She didn't have the energy to be hateful about it though, only scrunching her face up in another sob. She could cry; what did it matter now? "Your son and husband will be here soon."
That just made her cry harder, a fragile whine leaving her lips. She rolled her head, hiding her eyes as much as she could in the pillows. Would her husband really be here soon? Really? The message had been sent hours ago, and more before that... and Thor still hadn't come. He wouldn't even come to watch her die.
Maybe it was better the girl just smother her and get it over with. It would be more painless than this, less distressing. Imogen wasn't sure she could take any more.
But her son... she could give up her own life, but her son's? She couldn't kill him too. "Please," she prayed through her tears. She wanted him to live, even if she did not. She'd sold more than her money for this child. She'd cast aside the law for this boy, meddled with things she should have not. She didn't want that, and her death, to be for nothing.
But her mind slipped the second her heart skipped a beat, aching in her chest. Was it supposed to hurt? Her eyes drooped, head lolling as her fingers started to loosen around the girl's. No...
Then door to her and Thor's chambers burst open with a bang.
Imogen jumped unexpectedly, eyes flittering open weakly. They found the doorway instantly, just in time to see Thor himself storm through, brow furrowed deep. His blazing eyes scoured around the room of women before they settled on his distressed wife in the bed. Imogen's heart skipped a grateful, fragile beat - he was here! Thor had come for her.
He paused for a second, before he made a bee line for her bedside. "What's happened?" he barked at the midwife at the end of the bed as he passed with hostile eyes, as if it were somehow her fault. His arms swept away the young maid in a similarly aggressive fashion, swiping her out of his way as he gathered up his wife's fingers in his and held them comfortingly, knelt at her side.
He wasn't truly angry, Imogen knew. Not at anyone in particular. If Imogen was dying, whose fault was it to be? He was just angry. At fate. Imogen had known him long enough to know though; that tiny glint of light in his orbs meant only one thing - he was scared as Hell.
Her fingers clutched at his hard, channelling the grips of distant pain, trying to anchor herself back to consciousness somehow. It felt easier to cope with, knowing her husband was there at her side to support her. The reason to fight was right her with her now, holding her hand through her ordeal. The weak thud of her heart though didn't fill her with much hope.
Imogen's eyes fluttered shut as another contraction gripped her, stronger than the one before. A pant left her lips and her head lolled weakly again to the side.
"She's gone into early labour." Volva answered the King quietly, still knelt at the other side of her daughter's bedside.
Imogen could feel Thor's frown lift; lift from scouring his wife's face - relaxed with exhaustion and numbness as her mind seemed to stretch from her breaking body - questioningly first to Volva, then around to the rest of the women. "But she's not due yet." the Thunder God insisted feebly, as if in disbelief. "Not for months..."
"The baby is coming." the midwife chipped in efficiently from somewhere further down the bed. "There's nothing that can be done to stop it."
Oh gods, Imogen thought breathlessly in her head as she felt more immediate truth in the woman's words than were probably intended; the itch to push nudged into her mind, body twitching for it. Her prince was coming. Her baby was ready.
But she wasn't.
Her hand went limp in Thor's as she slumped in the bed, feeling her strength fail he for what she was sure to be the final time.
She didn't feel the same pain as before. She was far away from it, her mind floating. That was bad, she knew. She had to be dying. Darkness lay in the backs of her eyelids but she glimpsed a flicker of light somewhere in the darkness of her mind. Her heart was so slow, so weak...
She started to relax, sinking into the bedsheets. She didn't want to endure this anymore, she couldn't. She couldn't fight the darkness as it started to close in on her.
"No!"
Thor's hand left her's and his both secured either side of her face, tightly, Urgently. Imogen could feel him standing, leaning over her.
She wanted to smile, knowing how he would look, even through her closed eyes. His tone... he was in such denial. His eyes would be blazing, his teeth gritted, refusing to let her give in... but she couldn't do it anymore. The peace was so inviting.
Fingers gripped the sides of her face more forcefully. "Imogen, don't you dare." he ordered frantically at her from above. "Open your eyes! Open them! You're stronger than this."
She'd thought so too... until this. Her body wasn't as strong as her spirit it seemed. Her heart thudded a little harder at Thor's encouragement, but her lips still stayed numbly parted, eyes blissfully closed. She could feel it; she was barely alive. The spirits were just waiting to take her.
"Imogen..."
Wetness touched on Imogen's hand on her mother's side and she felt her fragile heart crumple a touch. Her mother was crying.
I'm sorry, she sent in her head, feeling tears prick in the corners of her eyes. Her lungs sucked in a ragged, weak breath. She sent it to her mother, to her husband, her daughter and father, to her unborn son... she was going to hurt them all terribly.
Her eyes screwed a touch tighter, mouth tensing slightly. No... she didn't want that. No. Her family...
A forehead touched gently to hers and a shaky breath ran over her hot face. And then a tiny splash of wetness. "You can't give in." Thor told her, voice soft and broken. There was no more bravado. He could see it as much as Imogen felt it - he was losing his wife before his eyes.
Imogen felt her heart ache more and slight feeling came back to her fingers; enough to grip at the sheets lightly. A tiny groan left her lips. She didn't want to hurt Thor. Not like this..
"I love you too much to lose you." the King breathed over her, another tear falling onto his wife's cheek. "I need you. Shelby needs you. I can't do this without you." His hands roamed up, lacing through her sweaty hair. "Please don't leave me."
What was he doing? Imogen vaguely scolded in her head. He was the king, had a reputation to uphold... yet he was crying?! There were people to see him. He couldn't...
She groaned again as the weight of her body started to register back in her mind again - as well as its pain. She whimpered loudly, heart jumpstarting again at the agony. Her hand near crushed her mother's, back arching off the bed slightly.
She was stronger again, she realised with a gasp as the immediate pain started to subside. Her eyes flickered open, finding Thor's teary crystal orbs hovering above hers. A smile flickered on his lips gratefully, another tear blinking free from him. He didn't notice it in the slightest; his mouth crashed down on hers in a hard, quick kiss. His wife was fighting, holding onto life.
His hand found hers again and she gripped his fingers with as much strength as she could muster. She could feel her inner muscles tighten - wanting to push. "It's too soon." Imogen whimpered ramblingly, shutting her eyes again, rolling her head lightly from side to side in denial. "It's too soon. He can't be ready."
"He's coming now."
The midwife wasn't lying. Imogen could feel it. She had to push, or her baby would never see the light of day. He needed her.
Thor moved away from her forehead but stayed close at her side, lips so close to her cheek, holding her hand tight. He wasn't letting her go. "Come on, Imogen." he breathed into her ear. "He needs you. You can do this."
No, I can't, she thought tiredly. She could feel the pain, but no strength to counter it. How could she push?
This couldn't be, she thought in her head. He would be too small. He needed more time...but maybe the magic would strengthen him, she thought. She prayed! Her heart was racing in her chest now but she felt it harden with resolve as she used what little strength she had to lock her propped up legs in place, gathering herself. Her baby really was coming. She couldn't let him down.
Imogen gritted her teeth and waited, keeping her eyes closed and her hands in her mother's and Thor's as she waited for the next contraction to come. Contraction would mean push. A push closer to having her son.
This was the day she'd been waiting for. She'd waited for her son for a long time, taken risks for him to exist.. now was the day. Today, Lord Roanull would get his authority check handed to him on a platter. She gathered her strength and braced herself. Screaming wouldn't get her anywhere now. Now she had something to focus on.
She braced her legs apart as pressure started to prickle around her swollen belly and clenched her hand in Thor's. This was it, she thought, finding her mother's hand on the other side of the bed and gripping it too.
And then in a space of a breath the pain was there and Imogen was pushing down into her womb with everything she had.
The cry left her hard and strong as pressure pushed heavily on her nether regions, feeling her son push at his passageway. She pushed as long as she could before her body just slumped weakly in the bed, and the pressure in her hips held. He was coming.
Her head started to float again and she prayed for strength, gripping Thor's hand hard. She was not going to lose him now. Not her husband. Or her son. She wanted to live. Wanted to see her child grow, her husband age beside her. She was not going to die here, she told herself. She would die in her bed, with Thor's arms around her, a nest of grey hairs on her head, in thousands of years to come... not here!
She screamed and pushed. Then screamed and pushed again. With every push, she felt her heartbeat stengthen and the blood pulse around her body with life, refusing to die. And the pressure and pain coursed though her lower section. Good, she told herself - that meant her baby was coming.
A solid shout left her as a tiny head slid free of her body, and she felt him hover between her legs. A small smile of triumph bathed over her face. She had done it. She was doing it. She wasn't going to give in.
She felt more wetness touch her below, and knew there was more blood as the midwife demanded for more cloths to soak it up. She didn't linger on it though; her boy was nearly here.
The next contraction rippled in warning and Imogen gripped Thor's hand in a way that hurt her fingers. She couldn't stop though.
"Come on, Imogen." Thor murmured in her ear. "You can do this."
His lips pressed into her hair as Imogen's lips broke in a scream, feeling her body tense and tear and she threw everything she had into this last push. One more, and she could do it. One more, and it would all be worth it. This long day would be over at last, with a new life in Asgard.
It hurt so much but she couldn't think of that, she told herself. Her boy. Think of her boy and everything she'd done to have him. Her precious child, soon to be in her arms.
And then with her last push of strength his body flowed from hers in a rush and into the waiting hands of the midwife.
Imogen laughed into her receeding scream as she felt it, thanking whatever gods had spared her and delivered her son. She laughed with relief mostly. She heard the clip as the cord was rapidly cut, waiting for her little boy's cries to follow.
The blood rang in her ears, deafening her to nothing but it's loud pounding as she gasped for breath, feeling her head spin. It was over, she vaguely thought in her head. Over. She had her baby.
Thor's lips pressed hard into the side of her cheek and she could feel his teeth from his grin. "Well done." he chuckled warmly against her cheek. "You did it! Our boy..."
Was quiet, Imogen finished his sentence for him in her head, eyes fluttered closed. Her ears strained to hear him. Surely he must be crying? Babies cried. They all did. She didn't dare believe she'd be lucky enough to have such a tame baby! Maybe he was still groaning a little, still getting used to breathing before he cried.
Imogen's lips were relaxed in a blissful smile, basking in the itch in her weak body. She was exhausted, heart still aching, so, so tired... but she wanted nothing more to sit up and take her baby boy in her arms and just cradle him to her chest. She wanted to see him.
She didn't object as Thor's fingers slowly melted from hers and she felt him press a tender kiss to her cheek before he straightened up. Hopefully to bring their son to her, she thought eagerly.
What was taking so long? Was her son so magnificant that the women simply couldn't take their eyes off him? She couldn't hear much talk or bustling so they must just be staring in wonder, Imogen thought, feeling even her mother's hand leave hers as she moved to see her grandson. She felt undescribable pride fill her; just a minute old, and he already demanded the attention a future king deserved.
She settled her hands on her slightly sunken abdomen peacefully and waited. She was content to wait. A chance to gather herself before she would have her son in her arms, before he screamed and would need feeding, would be helpful. She was ready for her son to be demanding. He had a right to be.
But why couldn't she hear him?
Her heart skipped a beat and she held her breath, wanting nothing to distract her from hearing that fateful sound of her son. Eyes lightly shut, still on her back, she waited to hear the wails of her infant.
And waited on.
And on.
And on...
Her heart started to thump loud and hard as her skin crawled. He was still silent. Why? Why couldn't she hear him?
Her eyes flittered open wearily and she grazed the outline of a tall figure that could only be Thor, stood beside the bed. She couldn't see much else of him, only to know he was there. He hadn't gone far. Eyes drifting shut again, her hand reached out, searching for his.
Her fingers brushed against his rough, calloused ones and he moved to grip hers instantly - hard. Imogen gasped under the hard pressure of his hand, tension creeping into her peaceful face at last. Her brow dipped slightly.
She felt barely conscious, feeling her body wanting to slip into sleep. She just wanted to sleep off the pain of her body, to fall into slumber ...with her new, healthy little boy resting in her arms. She wanted to hold him. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to see if he had his father's beautiful blue orbs or his adorable blonde locks.
"Thor." Imogen sighed breathlessly, exhausted, fingers gripping his to try and get his attention. She could feel it; he was still stood, facing side on to her.
What was he looking at? His boy? Why didn't he just go to him?
Imogen groaned as she shifted, scrunching her face when a sharp wave of pain shuddered through her. "I want to see him." she gasped out. Just a glimpse. A glimpse and she could go to sleep with dreams of him. If only she could see him...
The room was silent, she noted with a chill down her spine. Not just quiet as she'd previously thought - deadly silent. Not just the child's cries were missed, but the women's. They should be talking, gossiping happily, congratulating, hustling frantically to have Imogen's baby in her arms, to have him clean and like a tiny angel as his parents fauned over him.
But there was none of that. Why?
Imogen could feel the stillness. There was no breeze from the movement. No one had moved an inch. Why? Why?
The breaths started to hitch in her throat and she didn't understand why. Nor did she understand the ice that ran through her blood. Tears pricked at her eyes, spilling over her cheeks quickly; she just wanted to hold her boy. Where was he?
She summoned what little strength she had to prop herself up reluctantly on her elbows, forcing her eyes wearily open. Her head swam and her heart stabbed with a pain, but she ignored it firmly, promising herself she'd rest once she had first glimpse of her baby, even if she couldn't hold him yet.
She saw her mother's face first though: the woman was stood with her back against the wall, her hands up and held over her mouth. Not in a happy way, by the look of it though.
Imogen turned to her husband before she rose any further, her brow furrowing. What?, she thought with a chill. Why was her mother like that? Just overcome with emotion maybe? She looked to her husband for answers... but he was nothing reassuring himself: his eyes were locked on the end of the bed, his face pale and body still, not even breathing. Was it just her or were his eyes wetting? His lips pressed together and Imogen felt herself break out in anxious sweat, her smile finally slipping as she watched him swallow hard, as if something was stuck in his throat.
Only then did she pay attention to the chill running down her spine, on the way her heart pounded. Something felt wrong. She didn't want to admit it.. but she couldn't ignore the looks on her mother and husband's faces.
What was it? Did the child have some sort of mark? Was it somehow betrayed on his face that he'd been conceived through magic? Imogen's blood ran cold at the thought. Or was it not a son, but a girl? Was that what had everyone so stunned, their hopes dashed...
But it wouldn't be as bad as that surely, if it was only that she had another daughter rather than a son.
She shook her head quickly. No, she just had to see him. Just see him, and everything would be fine again. Her arms trembled slightly, but didn't stop her as she rose herself up higher against the headboard, hand slipping out of Thor's in her efforts.
That jolted Thor back to life; "No." he croaked, turning away from their infant and to her, his head bowed as his hand tried to ease her shoulder back down to the bed. "Imogen. Don't."
He sucked in a ragged breath and Imogen couldn't take her eyes off his dark face, just torn with... no, she wasn't going to admit what it looked like. He couldn't look her in the eye, his tone sounding so broken. For a moment, she considered listening to him. But she couldn't. He just made her more anxious now.
She pushed his hand off her with a strength she didn't realise she possessed and wrestled with the pain as she moved to get upright. Her core screamed with pain, and her heart jabbed sharply, straining as she tried to get her legs underneath her, to push up on her knees.
She partially succeeded, mouth falling open as the pain was accute. The moment she rose on her knees though, Thor's hands found both her shoulder's trying to gently hold her back.
That frightened Imogen more than anything.
She didn't even consider obeying this time; her hands found his forearms and tried to pull him away, fighting to get a glimpse of her son. "Let me see." she insisted, desperate.
She heard another shaky breath leave her husband, even hearing a hitch in his voice as his arms wrapped around her, his chin atop of her head. Or trying to be. Imogen squirmed relentlessly. "Imogen, please." he as good as pleaded, hand cupping the back of her head.
Every time she heard his tone, Imogen felt something stab deeper into her heart, but she didn't dare listen to it. No. She couldn't. She couldn't face the dread creeping into her system. She wouldn't let it exist. No. Her boy... she just needed to see him. Thor just needed to hold him. Things would be fine. They had to be.
Imogen struggled on, until finally she glimpsed over Thor's shoulder and his arms held her there, his face buried in the side of her neck.
Her heart stopped as she felt his tears on her skin again.
What? No, that wasn't right. He should be happy...
And her son should be crying.
Then, finally, she saw him.
Her body just stopped. She froze in her struggles, letting Thor's arms hold her as she stopped breathing, her heart aching more than ever; her son was tiny on the end of the mattress. Tiny, his skin blue beneath the little white lumps of gloop that covered him and the red splatter of blood, but perfectly formed in every way, with a smudge of dark, wet hair on his head.
He just needed air, Imogen told herself, trying to remember how to breathe herself. It didn't work so well - especially when she noticed her son struggling with it too.
Gods, he wasn't even trying...
He didn't get any air into his lungs at all. He didn't move. Not even a fraction.
Imogen's gut clenched as if someone had punched her. He still didn't move. His little chest didn't lift. His little eyes didn't open, still face turned towards her as he lay on his back. His limbs lay limply at his sides. His full lips didn't part for his first cries. His head didn't roll, searching for his mother. He was just still. Unmoving. Imogen felt like she was going to be sick.
"No." breathed from her lips instinctively, the longer she stared at the unmoving creature at the end of her bed. She glanced down, glimpsing between it's legs; she had a son.
Had a son.
He wasn't moving.
Her hands started clawing at Thor's back, growing more and more desperate every second. No, she thought frantically. She had to see him! She needed to see her boy, to get to him.
But he still didn't move.
Tears stung at her eyes but she didn't stop, fighting with Thor to get forward to her infant, squirming even though the pain seared between her legs, piercing through her weak heart. Her body screamed at her to stop but she only fought harder the longer she stared at her child and he didn't stir. Her eyes were so wide they hurt. "NO!"
The cry was almost feral but Imogen barely heard it leave her lips, too consumed with such a deep cutting loss attacking her heart...she squirmed wildly in her husband's arms. Her boy - no...
The tears streamed down her face and she could hear herself distantly screaming. What was she screaming? Words? Just cries? She wasn't sure. It echoed in her head over and over again, cushioned by the numb pain of her nether regions as she kicked and clawed to get to her infant.
Even if she got to him, what would she do? That didn't seem to matter. As if her touch would suddenly bring him to life, if she could just hold him. The manic thought that she wished she could pull him back inside the safe haven of her body crossed her mind, but she knew it was ludicous just seconds after it ran through her mind. She knew there was nothing she could do. Nothing anyone could do.
The women just stood back respectfully from the edge of the bed, heads bowed. The young girl was crying.
Imogen didn't want their tears - "Do something!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "For Odin's sake, do something!" Her words trembled with her tears, but she didn't care, yelling for all she was worth.
The women stayed still.
She felt Thor crying with her, his arms too tight around her, face buried in her neck, feeling his breaths hitch and whine with loss... she'd never seen him like this. She'd never felt like this. Her heart beat hard and strong and by all the gods, it hurt. And she hated it. Hated it. Hated life.
"Please!" she begged desperately, blinking away what she could of her tears as they blurred her vision of her son. She didn't want anything to interupt her. Nothing to get in the way.
Why didn't someone do something? Anything! Give him medicine, blow air into his lungs... but he was stone cold blue, a voice pointed out in her heart.
It was too late.
This was wrong. So, so wrong. He was a baby, hadn't even been given a chance at life. A brief flare of anger coursed through her - why had she lived and he hadn't? It should be the other way around. She'd trade their places in a heartbeat if she could. She should have died, not...not him.
Her heart ached harder than ever and she prayed that it would give out, that she could walk with her new son into the afterlife. She didn't want to leave him. No. She couldn't think anything beyond 'no, no, no', wanting nothing more than to hold him, convincing herself it wasn't the end. Not before it had begun.
Her hands gripped at her husband's shoulder and she held her weeping face against his shoulder, wrenching her eyes away from their lifeless son at last; her body shuddered with her mournful cry, surrendering to her anguish.
She had her son. Her heir. Her precious, darling little boy...
But he was dead.
She screamed.
