Fafnir Mythology Novels & Stories

Haley lifted her phone. "Okay, everyone. You are seeing a lot of scary divine nonsense right now. Official names are pending because apparently gods arrive without press kits. The giant wolf trying to claim everyone? He wants you to call him Fenrir, father of wolves, devourer of moons, blah blah historical trauma. Very intense. Very winter collection." Fenrir's head turned. Across the sky. Toward her. Good, Haley thought, stomach dropping. He is watching. Katherine's voice sharpened. "Haley."

"Fenrir. Son of the First Moon. Brother of Elyria. Devourer of Kingdoms. Do you deny your crimes?" Fenrir slowly raised his head. "No." The Guardian remained silent, waiting. Fenrir continued, his voice steady but hollow. "I destroyed cities. I corrupted kings. I manipulated children. I raised armies. I stole lives." He glanced briefly toward Nyx, pain crossing his ancient features. "And I stole daughters who were never mine." Nyx remained quiet—not forgiving, not condemning, simply listening. The Guardian nodded slowly. "Then why should you be spared?" Fenrir laughed softly, a sound stripped of all malice. "I shouldn't."

His mother's eyes softened seeing her favorite niece. "I don't know, maybe she's a little tired, '' Rabia said looking up to her son. Rabia and Farzan had three sons and one daughter. Zahan, Ayan, Shayla and Hamza. Zahan being the oldest was 28 years old, Ayan was 23 years old, Shayla 20 years old and Hamza 19 years old.

Switching the shower on, I strip off and step into the hot water, as Aura explains. “Fenrir has gifts. He can open a portal from anywhere, even from hell. Fen can mask his scent, he can control the storms, plus he commands the armies of the underworld. He is powerful, but...” she sighs out and I stop shampooing my hair. “But, what?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

“A powerful being, descended from Fenrir himself, the one who fought the Special Child centuries ago.” My breath caught in my throat. Fenrir. The name alone sent chills down my spine. I had heard the legends, the stories of the great battle that had shaped the history of werewolves and Cupbearers alike. Fenrir, king of the werewolves and the special child, had fought a mysterious battle that till today nobody knows who won.

Turning the doorknob, I slipped into the room and then slammed the door shut behind me to announce my presence. Gunnar didn't even flinch at the sound, seated with his back against the headboard and the bottom half of his body hidden under white sheets. His laptop sat on his lap as he vigorously typed. The son of a cactus didn't even spare me a single glance whereas I found myself scanning his body. He was shirtless, reminding that he was carved by the Greek Gods themselves. Probably carved by Hades in all fairness. "I didn't say you could enter," Gunnar grunted, lips twitching. He wanted to hide his distaste but couldn't.

Fenrir and the Nornir work in mysterious ways. She was young but so very fierce. I had no doubt she was capable of anything she set her mind to. I wanted her help to become whole again, and to accept me as a mate but I would never force it on her. It took me a while to sort through the jumbled and chaotic memories that the golden dragon had messed with when sealing away my home. He and Soren had worked their plan flawlessly and turned one of my most trusted against me. A betrayal that still stung. After his death at the hands of the golden one I still cared for his mate and children, rasing them as my own as their mother tragically succumbed to the loss of her mate and dies shortly after him

“It is believed that the artifact that Fenrir is looking for is worth about $3.8 million.” “Weppy, Fenrir isn’t here looking for money, or things that can get him money. What is he looking for?” “Fenrir is looking to return all the Norse gods' lost artifacts. He believes that Freyja’s Necklace is here. He has already retrieved Odin’s spear and ring, and Heimdall’s Horn. If he finds out you’ve been awakened and are mated, it’s going to cause big problems.” “Like what Weppy?” I ask, hoping against all hope Wepwawet doesn’t say War of the Patheon.

Lokmar roared. “Father, I am well aware of my commitments to the war against the humans, but I have already linked with her, I cannot stay away, even if I tried” Fafnir replied, sighing heavily, “I think this will give me something to fight for, something to come home for.”

"If I hadn't secretly shattered the falling boulders of that avalanche five years ago, you would have been nothing but minced meat. You still think you were the one who saved me to this day?" "What?!" Kyle collapsed flat to the floor. Just then, a tall figure stepped out from behind me and placed himself between us. Fenrir. The most powerful God of War of the North, and also my fiancé. He wore heavy silver armor and looked coldly at Kyle on the ground. The murderous intent pouring off him was so terrifying that Kyle lost control of his bladder on the spot. "This is the piece of trash that made you waste five years?" Fenrir's voice was low as thunder, thick with contempt.