They say that our fates cannot be changed. That one cannot alter the twined thread of destiny -- however fate does have a tendency to be fickle. It is just easier to see ourselves as simple victims of chance. Our decisions merely determine the path...
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Thor Odinson had sworn that he would not do this to himself—that he would no longer involve himself with any matters concerning Jane Foster. But saying and doing were two different things and he had never been very good at following orders. And now, here he was, standing at the end of the Bifröst wondering what to do with what he had just heard.
Jane was not okay.
He could feel his heart racing, reminding him of everything that had passed between them. There was no use in trying to push those memories behind. He would be lying to himself if he said he had stopped caring. It was just too difficult for him to move forward, even with how things had ended between them.
It had been ugly.
There had been so much anger between them, but at the time he had felt his decision validated his actions. His job, after all, is to protect the nine realms. It always had been and that had never been a choice for him to make. The Norns dictated their fate—and there was a reason why they had chosen to give him a glimpse of an ominous future.
Or so, he kept telling himself.
Thor rubbed his face. He knew he had wronged as much as she did then, but he had failed to understand just how flawed his perspective had been. It was not until weeks later than he saw the bigger picture. He finally understood why she was so angry with him. While had he had been running around for months, searching for answers to a prophecy, he finally understood the value of time. For her, it was precious.
Even more so now.
"Cancer?" Thor asked, the word thick on his tongue. His brows drew together as he carefully processed the information. This was completely foreign to him. He may not have understood exactly what it was, but he knew that it was not good. He knew it was dangerous—and he knew what it could, and would, do to loved ones.
"Aye," Heimdall answered, his golden gaze transfixed to the swirling cosmos below them.
Thor closed his eyes, shoulders tense as a sudden wave of guilt washed over him. He knew he had failed her multiple times and that he had broken far more than just promises. Could he have fought harder? A selfish part of him had wanted to stay with her—but, his duties as a warrior had come first. It had to. He had taken that oath long before they had crossed paths.
And his father made sure to remind him.
Something clawed at his throat. He had once been boastful of his title, but lately it was not much to be proud about. The burdens that came with it were stacking, but nothing compared to this. He felt his entire world shift, the sudden weight almost suffocating.
"Do you know how long she has?" his words hung heavy within the confines of the observatory, as blue eyes carefully drifted across the twinkling abyss. A part of him wished he could see what the sentinel could.
Heimdall shifted at his side, his gaze never once straying away from the woman in question. "I cannot say. I'm no seer. I can only see the present, in which she is fine."
