Chapter 15

The thundering of hooves echoed in Imogen's mind as she lay still in her makeshift bed – barely more than a folded up blanket on the floor. It had been days since the men had ridden off to battle, but she could still hear it clear as day.

Thor had gone with them.

She lay there thinking about it. Thor fighting; for his life, for the realm… for her? She liked to think so.

A part of her hated him for leaving though. He sends her away, and then leaves himself? Who would be there to love and care for Shelby? The maids were not family. It was wrong…but she was so angry with him from when she was sent away from the palace that a little more hardly made a difference, no matter what it was for.

And he was still obviously angry at her. From what she'd heard, it was only a minor disturbance on the realms borders, yet Thor – the king – saw fit to go and fight? He was not leading an army, just a few dozen soldiers it was that meagre a battle. But Imogen knew her husband well. He was going not because the realm was in any true danger, but because he was angry. He always fought when he was angry. Only the training room didn't seem to be enough this time.

He needed to kill something; that was how furious Imogen had made him. Childishly, she felt a sense of triumph knowing that.

It was that exact attitude that Thor had sent her away for.

The sun had risen a long time ago, but she didn't want to get up. When her father had gone to work she'd kept her back turned, pretending to be asleep, and had done the same again with her mother as she'd cleaned the cottage.

Imogen had rolled over since then though, watching her mother sew from across the floor. Volva looked up disapprovingly at her daughter. "You can't lie there forever, Imogen." She grumbled.

Imogen met her mother's stare squarely. "I'm tired."

It wasn't a lie. Her body felt heavy and her mind was just… it was better she stay asleep. She was still terribly bitter about Thor's rejection, and she was more than ready to take it out on anyone, not just Thor. The blunt stare she was giving her mother was stark evidence of that. She wanted to lie, and sulk, and think of angry things about her husband.

Across the room, her mother put down her sewing; obviously, she had other ideas. "Don't be a child, Imogen." She scolded, softer than her daughter deserved. "Get up and do something."

Do what?, Imogen asked in her head, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Reluctantly, she pushed herself upright. Where she lived, everything was done for her.

"What?" she barked bluntly, arching a questioning eyebrow.

Volva sighed. "There are always clothes to be washed. You could fetch some water from the well. I'm sure the scrubbing would do well to let out the vehemence you lend shelter to."

Imogen's lips pursed.

She knew she was not being subtle about her fury, but it didn't mean it was up for discussion. Her father had wisely not mentioned it, nor her brooding mood. He just got on with it. She should have known her mother would not be so ignorant. She was always perceptive, especially when it came to Imogen.

But neither of them knew why Imogen was here. She hadn't told them; she'd just shown up on the door and her parents had taken her in. She hadn't said a word to them that night, just curling up in the corner.

She wasn't sure what to tell them. That her husband threw her out? That she'd abandoned her child because she'd been jealous? Gods, no. She couldn't tell them that. Out of pride if not principle. She was a Queen now; this sort of personal information shouldn't be shared with everyone. And they'd be so ashamed of her…

They didn't ask, so she didn't say. She wasn't exactly in a hurry to spill out tales of her failure.

Imogen's eyes lowered as the thoughts ran through her mind. Failure – that was what it was. She failed as a wife and as a mother, and now…now she ended up here. Wallowing in rebuke, cast away from those she loved the most.

She missed her daughter. She missed her husband. But Shelby was in the care of nurses and Thor was off to war, and there was nothing she could do about it. Would he take her back? Would he just leave her there, forever suffering? This could be the beginning of the end – the beginning of her ending up like Elga.

She wondered where she was now. Elga had been long gone when Imogen had woken up against that tree and she couldn't help but wonder where she could go. She had no home; that much was obvious. Where would she leave Imogen to go to?

One thing Imogen could say for Elga in her desolate state was her clear mind. She didn't seem as wild and temperamental as Imogen remembered her to be.

She guessed the baby had something to do with that though. Children had a way of sobering up their parents from their former selves.

A loud sigh from Volva drifted Imogen out of her thoughts, eyes focussing on her mother again. Volva's eyes scoured over her daughter, suddenly soft, before they met her eyes. "Is this about the child?" she asked gently, eyes glistening. "This is not you."

I know, Imogen answered in her head regretfully.

She didn't mean to be so cruel to her mother. And she knew that was what it was – cruel. Acting so angry, so paranoid, and she didn't share an inch of her feelings with her parents, didn't give any explanation for them. She just showed up wordlessly at their door and expected them to take her in.

She guessed she'd gotten more than Elga had - but maybe only because Imogen's parents didn't know the truth. Perhaps when her parents found out she'd been cast out in shame, they would throw her out too as Elga's father had done to her.

Then nothing would be different from the two women. Imogen would have sunk to the very depths of Asgardian society, alongside her worst enemy.

So close to sharing her fate though, she found she didn't hate Elga as much as she though she would. She felt sorry for her. If anything, she felt indifferent. Maybe she was afraid of judging the young woman, knowing that if she followed down the same path, other people would judge her in the same way too.

Her mother's words cut deep though, and Imogen felt herself close up even tighter at the mention of her child. No name – there had been no time for a name. Just 'the child'. The one who'd never had a chance.

The anger and guilt came flooding back until Imogen's chest was so tight she could barely pull in enough oxygen to breath. She stood there stock still, feeling her emotions silently, subtly choke her, tears gleaming unshed in her eyes. She wondered if she'd ever stop feeling this way when the mention of her dead child was brought up.

Fighting to keep her voice level as her eyes fell, she muttered quietly: "I think I'll go to the river."

Whereas moments ago, she'd been rearing for a fight with her mother, surging with anger, now she felt drained. Exhausted. Just the memory of her child did that to her.

She didn't look up at her mother as she turned numbly and trudged to the door, moving slowly as if she were sleepwalking. She didn't feel alive, that was for sure. Her head was light from her constricted chest, her body weak and numb that she felt she might keel over at any moment.

Her eyes followed the floor dully until she got to the door, her tingling hand trembling as she pushed it open. Her fingers closed over the wood as she turned outside, easing the door quietly back into the doorframe behind her.

Her forehead eased forward, resting on the wood as she screwed her eyes shut. The moment she sucked in her next ragged breath, the dam broke.

Tears flooded and sobs were fighting their way up her throat. Her hand shot up to muffle them, not caring about the people around her starting to stare. She didn't care about them – she just didn't want her mother to know. Her knees felt weak, but she didn't dare listen to them.

She darted around, keeping her eyes low, and fled from the cottage like the Frost Giants themselves were on her heels.

XXX

Hours later, Imogen was stumbling through the forest, vision blurred by her tears. Her feet hurt from walking on all the tree roots mangled on the forest floor. Her face and arms had little scraps from walking into overhanging branches. A leaf was tangled in her dark locks.

She fought her way through the forest, forcing herself to breath, every now and then letting out a pained groan. Everything hurt – but inside hurt the most.

She let her feet guide her, her ears faintly hearing the gentle rushing of water of the stream. Her eyes were too clouded with tears to see clearly where she was going. Every now and then, she stumbled, her hand shooting out as she fell against a nearby tree. All the same, she got there eventually.

Step by step, the sound of water got louder and louder, until Imogen blinked and suddenly it was there; right in from of her. Numbly her hand steadied herself against a tree to her side.

The tree itself was huge, hanging off the bank and its roots reaching down in tendrils into the water. One more step, and the bank was gone. The clear water cut through the forest beautifully, moving steadily but far from dangerous.

For a while Imogen just stood and stared at it – why had she come here? Peace? Maybe; this was where she'd always come when she'd needed to think.

Last time she'd been here had been when her mother had been sick and she was preparing to leave for the palace. She'd come here, prayed to the gods and then bathed in the stream, blotting out the troubled world for just a few hours before she had gone to start her new life.

Imogen sniffed, eyes clearing. Her fingers numbly tugged her dress up at her hips. She climbed the material up her leg, the hem rising from her ankles, up her calves, up her thighs until finally she could grasp it and peel it slowly over her head, her body feeling stiff and aching from… what? She felt exhausted and she'd done nothing.

She shook her hair free around her shoulders as she cast aside her dress, not looking to see where it fell. Hand on the trunk of the large tree for balance, she crouched down and dipped one leg into the water.

It was cold and Imogen gasped, goosebumps rising up on her flesh all over her body. Her naked body shivered and her nipples peaked in response to the cold, fingers curling against the bark of the tree. All the same, it was refreshing – just what she needed.

She climbed in fully and waded a few steps deeper in the stream, treading carefully. Thankfully, there was only a soft, sandy grain underfoot, no stones.

The water lapped around her mid thighs and Imogen's mouth hovered open in a continuous, silent gasp at the chill. All she could think about was how cold the water was. Everything else was driven from her mind. She suddenly realised how stiff her face was from crying and cupped some water in her hands. She splashed her face and rubbed away the tears firmly.

It felt good to wash. She hadn't washed since she'd left the palace days ago and had started to feel a bit grubby. Here though, kneeling in the water until she was submerged up to her shoulders, she felt thoroughly clean.

It was impossible to ignore the temperature, but she overlooked it as her hands roamed over her body, cleaning herself between her legs, under her breasts, around her waist…

"There are people in this forest, you know."

Imogen startled at the voice and spun around, arms crossing over her chest automatically to cover her breasts. She turned back towards the tree – and saw Elga leaned against it, one arm holding her baby over her chest. Her expression was dull.

Slowly, Imogen let her arms fall to her sides again – she had no shame in front of this woman. She met Elga's dull eye firmly, hoping the last of her tears had been blinked away.

Elga's lips pricked at the corners as soon as Imogen's eyelids fluttered. "I wouldn't bother." She said with amusement. "I could hear you. I'm sure a number of people could hear you making such a commotion like that."

Imogen's cheeks flamed instantly and she cursed herself for feeling embarrassed. Proudly, she tipped her chin up.

But what could she say?

As soon as the thought ran through her mind, her eyes fell to the water, feeling numb all over again. What could she say? Deny her grief? No… but she felt too lifeless to come up with a witty comeback to cover it up.

She didn't move as Elga moved ahead of her, sitting down so her feet bare dirty feet dangled in the water. Imogen watched the dirt disperse.

"I just don't want to end up like you." She breathed finally, honestly. What did it matter if she told the truth?

Ahead, Elga barked a laugh. "I wouldn't want to end up like me either!" she chuckled coldly. "Who wants a life alone, barely fed, barely clothed…I wanted your life."

Imogen's lips twitched. "You can have it." She sighed, thinking of all the anguish. The lost baby, the paranoia, the uncertainty…

"Hardly." Water splashed. "I doubt that darling husband of yours would choose me over you." Elga said bitterly. "As stupid as you are, he seems to love you. Doesn't even take lovers if my sister is any word to go by. That… that's loyalty!"

She sounded impressed and Imogen frowned…until she remembered Elga's own partner. Or former partner. Kale had had multiple women on the go while Elga had been rotting in jail and had had been doing the same since the birth of their unnamed son, as far as Imogen knew. To Elga, fidelity was never something she'd had the chance to value.

"I'm not sure he loves me so much anymore." Imogen murmured bitterly, fingers swirling in the water. Lifting her gaze, she caught Elga's questioning eye. "He sent me home." She said in simple explanation.

For a moment, Elga's expression remained unclear. She stared at Imogen with parted lips, not moving. At first Imogen wasn't sure she'd even heard her. Then all of a sudden, Elga's face split in a grin and she laughed, shaking her head.

"Good!" she giggled, wiping an apparent tear of laughter from her eye. "You damned well needed it too."

What?

Imogen's brow furrowed in a frown, but her eyes were bold and blazing. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She felt her patience start to melt as Elga just laughed. "Come on, Imogen." Elga chuckled shamelessly. "You were nearly as bad as I was when I was imprisoned. I mean, abandoning your child like that so carelessly..."

"Oh, yes, because you're so much better!" Imogen snapped, silencing Elga's giggles quickly with her hostile glare.

Slowly, Elga started to glare back. She nudged the baby across her front closer. "I am actually." She said quietly. "Do you know how many times the thought to abandon this one has crossed my mind? I could leave him behind, leave, meet someone new and start afresh…I could live if I left him behind."

Imogen watched mesmerised as Elga rambled on, her glare long gone; glistening eyes starting out at the distant trees instead. It was the first time Imogen had seen her foe so …Asgardian.

The baby was holding Elga back, was the only reason she was living in this squalor. If she travelled far enough, she'd find someone who didn't know her ruined name. She was still pretty beneath her thin frame and filthy body. She could just say she was attacked and someone who take her in, help her. There would be plenty of young men who would offer her aid.

Not if she had a baby in tow though. No man wanted to man or woo a young woman with a clearly illegitimate child. The baby wrecked any chance she had of ever getting married. Gods, the baby risked her very life living in this poverty.

Imogen wasn't sure she would take the same gamble, if the roles were switched. Scarily, she half thought she would have left the child in the branches and moved on to a new life.

Her eyes fell to the forest floor, feeling numb. Ashamed at her own thoughts. "Why don't you?" she mumbled.

Elga's eyes snapped out of their dreamy state, sharp and narrowed accusingly. "He's my son." She hissed protectively. "My flesh and blood."

Shelby was Imogen's flesh and blood but she'd just left her all the same. Why didn't Imogen have those same mothering instincts that even Elga seemed to possess?

Well, she had felt them once – when her son had died. And she'd wanted that son for nothing more than her own selfish gain.

Her eyes dropped down to the trickling water around her thighs and her hands crept up to cover her breasts. Suddenly, she felt exposed, cold and vulnerable. "I'm a monster." She breathed, horrified at her selfish self.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Elga moving, crouching down amongst the tree roots. She couldn't lift her own gaze though to see for certain, the shame weighing her down as if trying to drag her into the ground beneath her feet. No wonder Thor didn't want her.

Linda may be a whore but Imogen had seen them in the hallway; the girl had been light and carefree, pleasant. She could at least pretend to be who the prince wanted.

Imogen couldn't do that, so consumed by the anger that blazed out of control inside her. All she was was rage and vengeance.

"You are grieving." Elga said softly from the bank, so soft and gentle in tone that something inside Imogen's heart balked. She didn't argue. She just bit her lip as emotion welled up inside her.

The last time she and Elga had met, Imogen had been hard as stone. Opening up to Elga then seemed just unthinkable. Like a betrayal to herself. She hadn't even been able to bear the thought. Now though…now Elga was right, and Imogen felt broken.

She gritted her teeth together but it wasn't enough to stop the first tear rolling silently down her cheek, her chest feeling so tight she felt she might suffocate. Her arms hugged tighter around herself, as if to comfort the broken heart inside her ribcage. She felt exhausted as she thought of the little boy she had lost, so weary in spirit – and then completely shattered as the sobs burst forth.

It was like at the funeral. She hadn't cried like this since the funeral. It felt so very far away and yet so vivid at the same time. Her hands rose up and hid her face, body cowering over slightly.

For a moment, she was half sure her legs would give out beneath her. She felt so weak and trembled so violently, she wasn't sure how the water didn't just sweep her away. She knew she deserved it. She deserved to drown. All the things she had done…and now she sobbed and grieved for every single flaw and mistake she'd made, hating herself.

She barely heard the splashing of water before thin arms closed around her and jerked her forward. Her eyes shot open in shock and she held her breath; Elga was hugging her, her arms around Imogen, her little baby pressed between them gently. It only made Imogen's heart bleed more.

She gasped a laboured breath and sobbed noisily into Elga's shoulder, surrendering to the deeply buried emotions she'd covered up for so long.

She wept.