"Few know what fates the Norns weave until they've arrived," he agrees, gently curling the end of her hair around his fingers. He would not have seen this future if asked a mere decade ago, clairvoyance or not. A home on Earth, a green kingdom at peace, someone he loves choosing him despite all else. Would they have ever met if not for that year's Yule? Would it have led to this? A thousand tiny chance moments laid the path they've walked, and here they are, listening to the gentle roll of thunder and rain as they huddle together, sipping cocoa.

He's silent a long moment when she reaches out, and Thor is certain that if he decided to never speak of it, she would not press him further. And he cannot deny that he is tempted to pretend that it never happened, not from lack of trust or faith in her, but for his own sake. But avoiding his problems has rarely ended well, and if nothing else, he owes her an explanation for waking her in the middle of the night, even if she would disagree.

A low rumble of thunder echoes across the sea before he speaks, his voice nearly as low, as if he might catch the dream's attention and manifest it. "...he was burning Asvera. I couldn't stop him."