“The hag of Iron Wood will bare three children. One of death, One of Destruction, and One who will circle the world.”

I am the destruction. Like my father I am chaos, I am terror. I am all the threats and sneers the people flash towards me, and what is to become of me at the end of the world stuck like a stain for most of my lifetime. I am the growls that shake the realms, the tears in the earth, the fangs in caverns, the dying, chilling shriek of an animal. I am Fenrir, son of Loki. Prophets and poets warned the people of what will become of me, and how my fate will refuse to change, no matter the plea or offer. As I rest in the ash of Ragnarok, clinging to the thundering beat of my heart’s drum, a sword logged into my jugular, I am reminded of a time before I embraced my terror. It is but a memory that stains my mind, and it is all I care to recall.

It began one morning in Asgard, where the sun’s rays felt warm and thick, the scent of mead and ash rang in the air, the ӕsir people bustled about their duties with full hands and quick steps. The sounds filled my ears like rain to a puddle, each call of a raven or hit of a sword made each of my ears stand by themselves. I am much too large to blend in with the sounds, and although I craved each touch of Skoll’s sun, I rested my body in the shade of the Great Lodge. My eyes grazed the horizon of the village, they had grown used to seeing the wooden huts and sparing rinks spread across Asgard. I was raised here, the gods figured it was the best option to separate the family of bad omen, and with that, they took me here. No wolf fit in Asgard's posh and golden ways, so as I grew large enough for my snout to rest on roofs, the ӕsir made an effort to sneer my way, they made sure to turn the innocent away from my fangs and claws.

I was just as innocent as them, but because of my figure and fate, they despised me deeply. You see, in the prophecy, it is said I shall swallow the All-Father in Ragnarok. The All-Father, Odin, the ӕsir king, the only protector they knew. As an attempt to change this, they made sure to bring me up fair by the hand of Tyr. Tyr, god of honesty, war, and justice. My caregiver, my replacement father. He was as kind as a god of justice could be, he included me in games, celebrations, and stories. Tyr was the only one to meet my eyes while the crowd would turn away. Despite Odin wishing to raise me cruelly, unlike Tyr, Odin taught harsh lessons with a much rougher hand. Tyr believed it was only right to treat me as an equal like any child of Asgard, he did his best to not let my fur and tail separate me from them. Odin only feared me, but each time he spoke to me his words were as steady as the Asgardian wall, but each time his fear rings sweet and thick in the air like no other. I’ve watched him often from the shadows just as he stalks me with his ravens and one good eye. The people praise and protect his name, but I know what he means. I know his true form and nature. Just as he understands my own.

The dew-licked grass and dirt almost put my body to sleep, the wind sang lullabies despite the bustling village roaring close to me. Over the years I’ve learned to focus on the silence, and its presence is an often visitor for me. It hums to me and brushes along my fur, it sweeps me over like a snowstorm in fall. But soon it would be interrupted.

“Fenrir, enjoying your time I see” Tyr’s words smoothed my ears like mead to the throat, as he stepped forward with a steady pace. His action was never out of fear, or uneasiness, it was simply honest. “Tyr, what trouble do I owe?” I rose my head and turned to meet his face. There I met his golden eyes that turned amber as they walked into my shade. He sat comfortably by my side, resting his back comfortably on my shoulder.

"Just come to enjoy this moment with you. Beautiful morning eh? Rather calm as well.” There we sat, the tamed bond of silence wedged comfortably between us. We watched the people, the ravens, the clouds. Yet something hung in the air like prey stuck to an arrow. “Something on your mind Tyr?” I rose my head once again. But this time his eye refused to meet mine. My hair began to prickle up. “Just thinking about you honestly, you know you’ve grown quickly since our first meeting.” “Tyr, spare me the sappy story. I sense there is more to your thoughts than my growth” I allowed a low growl to escape my throat, Tyr did not move an inch. “You know, you're a strong wolf, I guarantee you’ve gotten stronger. How about a friendly game tonight eh?” finally his face turned to me. I was taught well to read others' intentions or expressions, but Tyr almost had the All-Father’s sense of nature at this moment. Cold. “And what sparked this idea? Is there a god we're supposed to be honoring? Did Thor kill another giant?” “No, it just feels... right, it won't happen until later tonight anyway” Tyr turned again. I wanted to push the answer from him, like claws sinking into a mouse. But I refused, I had no true reason to. “Alright, later tonight it is then,” my head returned to my paws, and the wave of silence swept us once again. But this time it was a cold chill, not of winter or frozen water, but the chill of fresh silver. That night a gathering was held under Hati’s moon. Fires were lit and the ambers danced along like the people. Once again I hid in the crowd, I enjoyed my meal by myself and watched the ӕsir laugh and chant, normally I'd follow Tyr every step of the way at a gathering, but tonight he followed the All-Father and his ravens. The same feeling rose in the air again, it stuck to my fur like sap from a tree, and each time I cleaned its stickiness grew in great size. Odin broke the banter and placed himself in front of the centerfire.

"Just come to enjoy this moment with you. Beautiful morning, eh? Rather calm as well." There we sat, the tamed bond of silence wedged comfortably between us. We watched the people, the ravens, the clouds. Yet something hung in the air like prey stuck to an arrow.

"Something on your mind Tyr?" I rose my head once again. But this time his eye refused to meet mine. My hair began to prickle up.

"Just thinking about you, honestly. You know you’ve grown quickly since our first meeting."

"Tyr, spare me the sappy story. I sense there is more to your thoughts than my growth." I allowed a low growl to escape my throat; Tyr did not move an inch.

"You know, you're a strong wolf. I guarantee you’ve gotten stronger. How about a friendly game tonight, eh?" Finally, his face turned to me. I was taught well to read others' intentions or expressions, but Tyr almost had the All-Father’s sense of nature at this moment. Cold.

"And what sparked this idea? Is there a god we're supposed to be honoring? Did Thor kill another giant?"

"No, it just feels... right. It won't happen until later tonight anyway." Tyr turned again. I wanted to push the answer from him, like claws sinking into a mouse. But I refused; I had no true reason to.

"Alright, later tonight it is then." My head returned to my paws, and the wave of silence swept us once again. But this time it was a cold chill, not of winter or frozen water, but the chill of fresh silver.

That night a gathering was held under Hati’s moon. Fires were lit, and the ambers danced along like the people. Once again, I hid in the crowd. I enjoyed my meal by myself and watched the ӕsir laugh and chant. Normally, I'd follow Tyr every step of the way at a gathering, but tonight he followed the All-Father and his ravens. The same feeling rose in the air again; it stuck to my fur like sap from a tree, and each time I cleaned, its stickiness grew in great size. Odin broke the banter and placed himself in front of the centerfire.

He rose his hands to call attention to himself, the flickers of the flame hugged his figure. "Tonight we have a game for Fenrir, a test of his strength. Fenrir, if you could come forward," he waved as if to command my action, and yet I blindly followed. I rose from my shadow and placed myself in front of him. That’s when I caught a glint of something shiny.

"Here we have three fittings, chains of different ingredients. We shall bind Fenrir and watch as he breaks each. The first shall be the fitting of Leyding, then the fitting of Dromi, and finally, the fitting of Gleipnir. Each is forged with precision. All made to test the strength of a powerful deity." He turned to his left as Tyr and another brought the first fittings forward. I stood still. The sap feeling returned to me; it itched at my skin and sank deep like the stain of blood. And yet I ignored it.

I allowed myself to lay down, submitting to their game, allowing them to tie and bind my pieces. Once each chain was connected and locked around my pelt, I awaited a signal. Tyr nodded to me, flashing a wink. I flexed and let my strength take over my mind, bearing my fangs to the crowd as my lip folded back, the flames emphasizing their great size. With a simple crack, the chains fell to the ground once I rose. The crowd gasped and stared in awe, curious to see the dog perform his next trick. I glanced over to the All-Father; his gaze was as cold as the silver that touched my fur before. His eye met mine, and I snarled in a challenge. What was he planning? I understood Odin hides his truth, but here I could not read him. Here he stood like an unknown form of tongue. What did he want from a devil like me?

I lay once again, being bound by the Dromi fitting; the clinks of the chains rang a song into my ears telling me to wait. Once the symphony slowed, I flexed again; I wanted this to end as the itch grew. This time the fittings challenged and laughed at me, as I strained. I glanced up at the crowd; everyone was silent, apart from Odin’s eye, which spoke the words of a drunken king without a blink.

Finally, the chains snapped and grazed my fur as they met the grass once again. I laughed, and the crowd joined in with more gasps and gentle applause. Tyr had changed his expression now that he stood beside the All-Father. It read as though he was regretful. My fur was on edge. What was I trying to prove? What made tonight so different?

I submitted the final bindings. Before something whispered to me, the sixth sense. It was cold like ice, and a bitter taste rested on my tongue. My blood grew icy, and I shivered with each clank of the chains.

"Stop! Stop this trick!" I began to snarl, and I let the growls and sharp barks escape through my fangs; the ambers rose high and retreated to the stars. "This game is a trick; I sense it; I am no fool to trickery."

"Nonsense Fenrir, your mind is playing tricks," Odin almost whispered, and my ears perked to the stab of his word.

"Fenrir please, all is well." Tyr calmed and soothed me, touching the hairs of my cheek as I lay. His hand felt cold, almost as cold as the silver.

"No, if this is no trick, then one of you place your palm in my throat. If I break free, you will keep both your hands. Now, who will it be?"

There was an icy silence. Odin watched with great intent, stroking his bare chin; his ravens perched and whispering into his ear. This time I could not hear their words. I traced every movement he took as he approached me.

"Well, if it is to be anyone it shall be Tyr, your caregiver. Huh? What do you say? You trust him the most, it only makes the most sense, a bond put to the test." He looked towards Tyr as his words trailed away. He stepped back to his place. I let my jaws hang open; Tyr approached me in the same way as this afternoon. His eyes met mine. Both our minds were silenced. His warm palm was placed in the cavern of my fangs, the fire warmed my snout. His taste filled my head. I pushed my muscles to the fittings.

I dug my claws into the cold dirt and strained. I paused, flexed, strained. Once more, nothing. Once more, nothing. Once more, nothing. I snapped, and I unleashed a fury deep from my ribs, fighting the bounds, letting the bone of my canines sink into Tyr’s arm. He let out a call louder than my own. The crowd fled, shouting, screaming. "Traitor," "Destructor," "The prophecy will come true," "Banish the wolf." I did not let go of my betrayer, my caregiver, my friend. My lip lashed into a snarl; I let my eyes strike his own like the blades of swords. No longer did our looks calm each other. I started with the intent of wrath and demise, and he simply examined, his expression icy like the frost of Helheim. To my demise, he slipped free, despite my strength. Blood dripped from my jaws down his missing flesh.

Once everyone had fled, Odin spoke. "Fenrir, these chains shall bind you forever. Tyr understood we had to do what was right. Now if you could understand the same, for your sake, this is the best decision. We had to make something stronger than you, and this was the only way." Odin gripped Tyr’s shoulder, and Tyr accepted it, like a father and son. Something in the dim light of the moon told me this was kindness’ end. The fire emphasized their portrait. I let tears drip down my cheeks. I howled, snarled, and lashed out into the darkness, fighting with my strength, but even I cannot break a bond harnessed by ill intent. "This game I would expect from any other low-life, but Tyr, your honesty leads to betrayal. This was no form of justice, but it was cruelty. You shall only know true justice when I bring my jaws upon your skull." Tyr had no words to say, it made me glad. This silence I decided would be more comforting than another lie from his mouth. No longer did I care for the taste of the All-Father’s flesh, I wanted Tyr’s. I wanted to watch his world burn as he watched mine this very night.

There is a word on my tongue that describes such an act of blind trust, Heimskr, foolish. It was foolish of me to trust Tyr, to trust a love of deceit. Late into the early morning, when Hati prepared to retire his chase, I caught word I would soon be banished, far from the walls of Asgard and the nine realms, as I learn they did with my brother, sister, and my father. Each one of us, prisoner to the All-Father, each one of us fed lies to be thrown into the sea, bonded in a cave, and betrayed by the only love they ever knew. I was nothing more than a child the night they banished me from here. The only thoughts that graced my mind were when I’d be free to unleash my rage, my betrayal, my hate upon the realms. It all stained my mind, like blood on a blade.

So here I lie, in the fog of Ragnarok, with nothing more to remember than this memory. I’m finally here, my goal, my freedom, my vengeance. I wished so much for my lungs to be filled with the screams of my betrayers. I swallowed Odin, yet here I lie, starving and dying. My vision grew blurry, the fight in its climax all around me. The sky was stained in reds, blues, and greens from the realms colliding. Thor is slaying my brother; I can hear his screams. My sister lay dead somewhere, and my father was nowhere to be seen. I wished to help them, to prove my revenge, but I am starving and here I lie. Odin’s son, Vidarr, got to me first. Now his blade rests in my throat. I can feel my stomach grow inward, and begin to gnaw itself like Nithogg with her branches. Despite eating, the hunger would linger. Soon I will be torn from existence. My body will become nothing more than something the gods can burn, all these years of wishing for Valhalla or to reign in Hel along with my sister. I wish nothing more than to sleep. To rest. To silence my mind, allowing it to pet and brush my fur once more.

I allow my eyes to sleep their final rest, and vision their final dream before I am brought to nothing, a hand rested upon my nose. Rough and cut, a tang of magic, the memory dug itself back to the surface, then it struck me. This hand belonged to Tyr. I wanted so badly to fetch it; my mouth was dry and my belly needed to feed at this very moment. But nothing escaped, my muscles went numb. My bones became stone, and my heart slowed like a stream in the ice. I wish no longer to tend to this fire, so I let it take me. I let Tyr’s hand put out my final breath. It felt like love again, and it was honest love.