2. The Bearer of Bad News

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"If only this were real," I murmured. I stood towards the edge of the balcony, feeling the soft breeze on my hair. "This is where we would be if you did not go down the path that you did." I felt slender arms slide around my middle. "If things turned out differently, who knows what would have awaited us?"

"I know what you would have wanted to happen."

"I never intended on using you for a royal status. I would never stoop to such a level. I would love you even if you never took the throne."

"Neither of us can change the past," he whispered. "What happened did. No one has the power to turn back time and fix it."

"That we know of. There is always a time for firsts." I looked down at his hands covering my own. "But changing events is fiction, and fiction like that can never become reality. The closest thing to going back in time is dreaming what could have been."

"This hasn't happened for some time." He kissed the back of my head.

"I missed these." I cleared my throat. "For a time, I dreamt of nothing. I am grateful when I see you here, no matter where we are. Sometimes these get so detailed that I believe they really happen, when they don't."

"You have a very creative imagination."

"I like to keep things within my comfort level. Like how you were before..." I turned to look into his eyes. "I wanted this future for us. I hoped day after day that something good would come out of what happened, but I was wrong." Tears gathered in my eyes. "You're gone, and I've moved on. We've been separated since."

"Have you truly moved on if you still dream of me?"

"Moving on does not mean forgetting you."

"If you can't let go, remember me like this." He kissed my temple.

"I do. I try to forget what you had become. How you are now, I wanted him back the day I lost him."

"No matter what our hearts want, we sometimes do not get it. We can strive our hardest and still come up short."

***

My face was wet from tears when I woke. I sniffled, wiping them hastily away.

Why was my mind torturing me? I can't let go, no matter how hard I try. I blinked fiercely, putting my face in my hands. There were times I had this internal battle raging. I would sometimes regret making the move here to Midgard. I would wish that I had tried harder to make him come off of the path he had slowly worked his way down.

I need to take my mind off of this. It wasn't my fault that he turned into such a thing. I'm not letting false guilt consume me.

Deciding to act quickly, I jumped out of bed. I tackled my hair into a braid as I went into the living room, getting into a fighting stance. On Asgard, I wasn't half bad when it came to combat. I was no warrior by any means, but Father insisted that I learned to hold my own if I ever got into a sticky situation. Weaponry was another story. I never had to use my knowledge. Besides, my abilities came first over my raw skill. My instincts were a last resort.

I fought the air, pretending to take out an enemy. I could easily head out into the busy streets and find the nearest gym that had a boxing area, but I didn't feel like going out. Besides, with my strength, I was sure to attract attention. I'd been under humans' radars for a year, I wasn't about to break the streak.

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