Me: *Reading about Fenrir and Ragnarok*
Fenrir: *Holding me from behind with human arms*
“Ragnarok…doesn’t scare you?”
Fenrir: *nuzzles into my neck* (He does that…a lot)
Me: “It is needed”
Fenrir: (I can feel his smile against my flesh)
“Yes, are you afraid?”
Fenrir: “I will devour you as well”
Me: “I know” * I reach up to run my fingers through his unruly head jet black hair. A little bit of blood appears on my hand. There is always blood. No matter his form.*
To be a mate to Fenrir is to feel bound. Bound by rules, regulations, even my own body. There is a finite feeling deep down. But it is not sadness. It is a waiting, an anticipation neither good nor bad. It just “IS”. Godspousing to Fenrir is not something terrible. It is a feeling of chaotic freedom and primal truth. My Love is playful, loving, temperamental. Always the Alpha. Years ago about 10. I met Tyr. I never worshipped him but I did honor his honesty. I never understood why. Until I read of Fenrir. Then it would be so many more years later before Fenrir claimed me. No fancy wedding. No pomp and circumstance. Just a simple “Your MINE” in a dream. His love is so very vast. Almost scary. Recently I was introduced to Hati and Skoll. I was told to act as step-mother since I cannot have my own children. Now they join me. They are very curious, always nosing into my business. I smile.
Ragnarok will come. Until then I will play and hunt with my family. I will tell Father Loki dirty jokes, I will dance with Mother Angrboda around the firelight, I will help Sister Hela ferry the dead to Niflheim, I will hold the bowl for Sigyn, I will weep for Narvi and Vali, I will seek out Jormandgund, I will honor the fires that is Glut and her two daughters. Upon the end of my days I will stand as He is unbound, unfettered facing Him and be devoured to be reborn.