
He'd done it.
It had always been his destiny, written in the stars well before his birth. Sure, the details had changed a little (Odin perhaps wasn't quite Odin, but the wolf trapped in the Isle had lightning stuff crackling around him, so it still counted)... but fate was often fickle in that way. Fenrir stood tall atop a large boulder, chest expanding as he took in a deep, bracing breath of complete and utter satisfaction.
He had saved the world.
Sure, others had shown up to render their savior aid (not that he needed it), but it was through his strength alone that the chained wolf was able to be freed and restore Mythris to its true glory. Fenrisúlfr Tyrson had saved them all.
But - where was the gratitude? Where were the women?
Was it not enough?!
Frowning, the wolf hopped down from his perch and scanned the surrounding forest, looking for anyone who might be in need of a sexy, masculine hero to adore.
Aw, come on,he huffed.
What's the point of saving anything if you're still alone anyway?
He was certain there were meant to be throngs of grateful worshipers post-heroism, but the woods remained utterly silent.
![[Image: KqoUDf8.png]](https://i.imgur.com/KqoUDf8.png)







