AN: I don't know what happened. I poked the fandom and it grabbed me and yanked me into the void.

Anyways, Fenrir takes her name from one of Loki's sons. She's older than he is here-by far-and is not interested in being courted by children. Just stating that now.

Dwarves, mayhem and Loki's particular brand of I-Told-You-Sos ahead. Takes heavily from the myths (never read them? Go now and do so), so maybe we'll even see a kraken. Or Thor in drag.


The wolf rests her massive head on her paws and sighs. The collar is especially itchy today, but there is no point in trying to move it. Another hundred years and it will be as much a part of her as her own eyes.

Someone is here, down in the darkness. She can hear their breathing, smell the magic on them.

Come to gawk, have they? Very well. Gawk away, but she's going to sleep.

They come forward, stopping just out of biting range. One more step and she can get them. She will, too, if only to prevent more from coming for a while.

"May I come closer?"

Oh, it speaks! Shame she's long lost the desire for conversation.

"You may not."

They kneel down to her level, still just out of reach.

"Why are you here?"

Oh, that's funny-even she can't prevent the snort of laughter that it evokes.

"Only a little prophecy." She does not lift her head. "Why have you come?"

"They told me I might find a monster. Have you seen it?"

This must be the one they've nicknamed Silvertongue, master of flattery and lies.

"You look upon it."

"I see no monster, only a mangy wolf." He laughs softly. "This is quite the disappointment." She growls at him for the mangy comment, but that only makes him laugh again. "You're not helping your case."

"Come closer, little one, and see what happens."

She's startled when he does exactly that, one hand reaching towards her neck. It has been a very long time since anyone has been foolish enough to come so close, and she can't bring herself to bite him-though it would teach him a valuable lesson in caution.

"You smell of magic."

"Is that so." His fingers brush the heavy collar, sending small flickers of pain through her skin. "How long has this been here?"

"Since before you were born, I imagine."

"I could remove it." he murmurs, more to himself than to her. "The spells are weak."

"You are either foolish or mad."

"Mm."

"I am quite capable of removing your throat from your body, little one."

"You would have done so by now."

"You sound certain."

There's a zap and-to her eternal shock-the collar falls from her neck and clatters to the stones.

"There, see? Much better."

She should attack him, teach him an apparently much-needed lesson in trust, but she doesn't. She's too surprised to bother.

"Why."

"I don't hold much stock in prophecies." He holds out a hand and she's conscious that the wolf is gone, leaving a ragged woman in its place.

"You are a fool."

"Perhaps." He pulls her to her feet. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced. I am Loki."

"Fenrir."

"Well, Fenrir." He's grinning broadly now. "How do you feel about playing a little joke on my brother?"

THE END