Chapter 7

"Imogen!"

Imogen span round at the call, pausing on the descending steps of the palace. Her startled violet orbs found the prince instantly; Thor ran down the corridor, not stopping until he broke through the palaces archway entrance, where he slowed to a trot.

She tried not to smirk - she had the prince running after her.

He hopped down the steps to her level, picking up her hand in his as if the action was second nature to him. Imogen's eyes flickered around them anxiously, but before she could panic if anybody was watching, he pressed something into her palm.

"A gift for you." he smiled, a little breathlessly. He looked immensely proud of himself. "I thought it would be something you would appreciate."

For a second, all she could do was blink at him. A... a gift? It washed her mind blank with surprise. She knew that women of the gods were graced with gifts and privileges on a regular basis, but... she'd always assumed that the favour he was doing her was gift enough. Just her wages kept her more than satisfied. How could he possibly want to give her more?

"Look."

The gentle command snapped her from her thoughts, and her eyes flickered up to his. Why were they sparkling like that? He looked so happy.

And it was an innocent happy. Like a little boy. There was nothing mischievous about it, nothing smirking, just... happy. It warmed Imogen inside - if unnerved her a little. After some of the things they'd done in his chambers, she found it hard to see him as innocent at all. After he'd fired her blood with his skin and his touch...

Her gaze lowered numbly to her palm... and her lips drifted apart. "Is this what I think it is?"

The sparkle in Thor's eyes settled to a warm simmering glow. "You are visiting your family, are you not?" he asked. He didn't give her time to answer before he found her unoccupied hand and led it to link her arm through his. "May I come with you?"

Imogen's orbs widened. "You... you want to come with me?" Her mind was a haze, but she wasn't sure if it was what he was asking or simply the way he'd threaded their arms together, as if her were escorting a lady of the court. It made her heart thud, having the prince of all of Asgard on her arm.

His armour glinted majestically in the bright sunlight, radiating light off his body like he was his own star. With his bright blue eyes, and his glorious golden locks, he very well could be.

He steered the forward, leading Imogen down more steps before he answered her. "I would like to meet your family, Imogen."

Imogen tried to make herself look normal as they stepped off the palace stairs and down onto the street below. It felt strange, touching actual ground after spending so long walking over the palace's marble floor. A good strange though; she was going home.

She'd never bargained she'd be taking the God of Thunder with her though!

Her eyes lowered once more to the bundle in her hand, still trying to swing her head round the idea that Thor wanted to meet her family. Just a blacksmith and his sick wife. Nothing to the Prince, surely? "You bought this for my mother." It wasn't a question. She knew, her thumb brushing over the top of the small bag, the tangy smell of herbs something she'd recognised instantly. They were the herbs she ground for her mother's medicine.

"I thought you'd prefer that to jewels or clothes." he smiled ahead, leading her through the streets and ignoring the stares he got as they went. "Please... may I come with you?"

Her cheeks flamed. Taking him to meet her parents - she was nervous. She didn't know why though; it wasn't like she was introducing the one she was to marry or anything! But still, she thought, her eyes clouding slightly.

"My parents don't know." she said quietly, eyes on the ground. "I didn't tell them. I just told them I was a maid. I," she gulped. "I don't want them to know what you offered me."

It would still be awkward. Even if her parents didn't find out that she was in fact the god's mistress, looking them in the eye and introducing him so innocently after what they did together... it would tug on her conscience. But it was a damned sight better than telling her parents how he'd touched her in the most intimate of ways, how she'd teased him seductively in the Hall, how they'd slept in the same bed, pleasuring each other until their dreams claimed them...it was shameful just to think of it.

"Then I shall hold my tongue." Thor said, tightening his arm on hers reassuringly. "It is not my wish to cause you distress."

Quite the opposite, he thought to himself, steering them through the streets as best as his memory would allow. The night he'd held her in his bed still ran circles in his head, making him dizzy with wonder. A part of him thought it must have been too good to be true, and when he'd woke up, the hazy memory of Imogen's body pressed against his, the way his fingers had explored her ... it was nothing short of a fantasy come true.

Then he'd blinked, and her body was still pressed against his chest, her fingers still entwined with his. Her hair had flowed gloriously over her body. His shirt had risen up in her slumber and he'd eased it down again to protect her modesty. His lusts couldn't control him anymore. Now it was deeper than mere flesh.

Not that he didn't still crave her flesh. No, she still fired his blood, driving him wild with desire at times.

But now that he knew that come nightfall, when she'd come back to his side and would let him touch her and hold her and grind his pleasure into hers, he could control it. She'd be there waiting for him. Now she'd take care of his need for her, by letting his arms hold her through the night, settling his craving.

He felt happy. Too happy. Happy enough to want to shift some of it onto her, so she could enjoy her life more in whatever way she chose. Hopefully, with him.

"Is that the barn?" Thor asked with a glinting eye, as they passed a large barn, moving out of the thick of the crowded streets. Imogen's cheeks flooded with colour and he had his answer. He chuckled. "Then we must remember to erase it of its old memories and replace them with new ones."

They were getting close, he thought. Not only close, but he could see her family's house already! He remembered coming to the blacksmith's once, the only knowledge that had guided him here unaided, but he had to confess, the hut opposite the blacksmiths workshop was smaller than he remembered.

"We moved closer to my father's place of work so that if something happened to my mother, he could get to her quickly." Imogen explained to him, she too eyeing the small, dark cottage. "We couldn't afford much with the medicine costs."

Thor cleared his throat, determined to be polite. "It is homely." he said, hoping Imogen didn't sense the words he was trying to cover up. "I like it."

If it was Imogen's home, it was a palace in his eyes.

The door of the 'palace' exploded open before they'd even come within paces of it, a wild looking man bursting forth.

His eyes found Imogen. "Imogen!"

Thor found himself unceremoniously nudged to the side as the blacksmith threw his arms around his daughter, drawing her into an embrace that made her eyes widen with how tight it was. She didn't stop him, and nor did Thor. The man hadn't seen his daughter for weeks. He must have missed her.

Finally, Imogen recovered from her shock and wound her arms around her father, hugging him back. "How is she?"

"She grows weak from missing you." Her father pulled back at last and cupped her face in his large hand, thumb brushing her cheeks tenderly. "We both have."

Thor watched the scene in silence, knowing how much it must mean to Imogen. He wouldn't interrupt for the world. His eyes roamed over the pair during their touching reunion, spotting the tell-tale signs that linked them as father and daughter.

The blacksmith was grubby and blackened from his trade, but Thor still peered through the sweat and the dirt to his features. He recognised Imogen's violet orbs in the man's face.

Then they rolled over to him and he clenched.

Imogen wasn't the only one with a guilty conscience and, for the first time, Thor prayed word had not spread of Imogen's occupation. He did not want her father's wrath on his back. The blacksmith released his daughter and turned to the prince fully, making Thor's stomach twist - if he knew how the god had defiled his daughter, Thor was sure he would not have the same kindly look in his eye.

The blacksmith bowed. "My Prince." His voice sounded a tad flabbergasted. Then he straightened up and Thor knew it was more than a little. His eyes looked wide and disbelieving. "This is indeed an honour."

"Aevar, is it not?" The prince smiled courteously, hoping he'd got the blacksmith's name right. No one corrected him, so he assumed he had. "And the honour is all mine, sir."

Imogen turned to stare at him, shooting a wild glance at the prince over her father's shoulder. What the hell was he doing?! Calling her father 'sir', like he really was a man asking for her hand in marriage! Why was he trying to impress her father? He didn't need to - he was royalty for Odin's sake!

She could feel the blood drain from her face and fought the urge to slap her palm into her forehead. Oh gods, she thought. Had he not listened to her earlier?! She didn't want them to know, and this was certainly drawing suspicion.

"I came to pay my respects to Imogen's family." he covered quickly, catching her frantic eye. "It is my understanding that her mother is sick."

There was an uncomfortable pause and though, her father's back was turned to her, Imogen could feel him scour his eyes warily over the prince before he answered. "My wife... is indeed taken ill. My daughter sought work to help speed her recovery, but alas..."

The unfinished sentence dug hard into Imogen's heart and her eyes lowered. Thor did not fail to notice.

"May I see her?"

Imogen's heart clenched, but she didn't have the will to snap her head up, still weighed down from her own pricks of sadness. Her alarm reached her eyes though, widening them to the floor. He wanted to see her mother? Of course he did, a sarcastic voice in her head thought. He wanted to meet her family, didn't he? It still made Imogen nervous though.

The blacksmith seemed just as perplexed as his daughter, brow furrowing. But he offered no objection. He stepped back, keeping his eyes respectfully on the prince, and his hand found the door. He peeled it open and held it there. "She is inside, Your Highness."

Imogen eyed the open door warily. She wanted to see her mother so desperately but... in what state would she find her? If she had indeed gotten worse...

She felt numb as Thor's fingers closed gently around hers and helped lead her stunned body forward, too frozen to have done it herself. She was too anxious to even care that her father was there, watching the prince hold her hand as if they were a casual courting couple! His eyes flickered, but his mouth stayed shut. Perhaps he was just as anxious as she was about her mother's state. It only made Imogen's heart thump harder, seeing the sad but guarded look in her father's eye.

Thor stepped into the house, ducking as he went. Imogen gulped. The breath flowed from her chest as soon as she stepped into the familiar, shadowed cottage, fingers tensing hard around Thor's.

Her eyes flew to the back of the hut.

"Mother!"

Thor found his hand empty as Imogen fled to the back of the cottage, practically throwing herself down on her knees beside the low, weak framed structure of a bed.

Aevar closed the door softly and joined the prince at his side, watching Imogen too across the hut. Thor could barely see the mother, hidden by thin blankets and Imogen's fretting form, pulling the sheets straighter over her mother's body, leaning over her to brush the hair from her mother's face, all the time whispering comforting words that Thor could not make out.

"She has been this way for many months now." the blacksmith breathed so only Thor could hear him. Understandably, he did not want to upset his daughter. "I fear her spirit will soon be taken from her."

Thor's throat was suddenly drier than he remembered.

The 'bed' was not pressed lengthways along the wall but outwards to the open space of the cottage. Finally, Imogen started to still, sitting back on her heels at her mother's head. Her fingers held her mother's hand over the blankets.

Then her spare hand reached up and brushed over her cheeks harshly, and something inside Thor snapped. Imogen was crying. His legs carried him forward, all apprehension leaving him as he watched Imogen's back softly rise and fall, the quiet, ragged breaths of her sobs getting clearer as he approached.

His eyes never left her bowed head. He knelt beside her and his hand found her back gently. "Imogen."

She hiccupped a whimper and her spare hand shot for the gods, resting on the very edge of the bed. She held it in a vice like grip. Thor didn't complain. He was here to support her, in whatever way he could.

His eyes rolled down to the figure in the bed.

Thor could understand Aevar's concern; she looked half dead already. The blanket was tucked right up to her chin, her face deathly pale and gaunt. Her hair looked scraggly and brittle, a dull copper colour whereas once Thor could remember it a fiery red. Even her eyes looked lifeless, glassy, distant brown orbs. Her face looked kindly, but thin and weak.

A spark of life shot through her as she saw Thor, her orbs widening and sparking faintly. "By Odin's beard!" she whispered in a voice that was barely audible. Her mouth hung open as if she wanted to say more, but a strained croak from her throat told Thor she could not.

He covered Imogen and her mother's entwined hands with his and smiled at the poor woman softly. "I have come to meet the woman who bore such a fine daughter. Surely, you are highly blessed to have her."

A small smile flickered on the woman's lips. "Blessing's will do little for me now." her frail voice breathed. "But... at least I got to see the prince of our realm before I die."

"Mother..." the crack in Imogen's voice was unmistakable. It made Thor's heart bleed.

His hand moved from her back to around her shoulders. She eased back into his chest without hesitation, letting him hold her.

Thor's eyes lifted to Aevar as he sat on the other side of Imogen's mother. His eyes watched his wife with more sadness Thor had ever seen in a man's gaze. "What is her name?" he asked of the broken man.

The blacksmith didn't look up from his wife. "Volva."

"That is a fine gown you wear Imogen." Volva rasped, moving her eyes to her daughter.

Imogen sniffled a smile. "The good prince has given me new work." she explained softly. Thor felt her hand stiffen over her mother's. "I owe him a great deal."

"You owe me nought." he rebuked gently with a smile to the woman in the bed. "Your daughter is a hard worker. She serves me well. I think if any debts are to exist, it is I that should owe her."

It drew a weak smile from Volva before her face tensed and her eyes rolled back. Thor didn't know what was happening, but she was obviously in some sort of pain. He felt Imogen's breaths start to hitch violently in her chest, body swelling rapidly. For once though, there was nothing he could do. He held her tighter.

"These are all the blankets you have?" He asked urgently to Aevar. There was only one over Volva's body, and another beneath, making up the mattress of the low, bed-like structure. It was not enough.

The blacksmith blinked through his gleaming orbs. "We had to sell some to afford the medicine." he croaked. "We have nothing left."

Thor didn't hesitate. "Then I shall have some sent for you." He'd be damned if he did nothing for these people. And it wasn't just for the woman under his arm. "A gift from the house of Odin. You shall receive food and blankets and medicine, and whatever else it is you require. I will also ensure Imogen's wages are raised to help your finances."

He could feel Imogen twist in his arms to stare at him, possibly with the glistening look as her father, clashed with gratitude and confusion. Thor didn't look down at her. He knew he was being risky. The 'expectations' flew out the window. He was going to be as generous as he needed to be to get Volva well and keep Imogen happy. He'd be ready to rent out his palace chambers if he had to! He didn't care how suspicious it looked to the outside world anymore. He cared for Imogen, and he'd may he cease to lift his hammer if he was going to hide it for the sake of expectations.

"Thank you." Imogen's voice breathed.