"Wake up, you mongrel." 

A fierce burning sensation inflamed his entire being. Agony seeped into his very essence as he was unable to escape the bastard hands and chains that held him. 

He roared with fury and pain and strained against his restraints, the chains groaning against his strength yet never breaking. 

The one who betrayed him watched in silence, condemning him. 

Fenrir sneered at his captors. 

He was pierced by a blade and snarled through the pain. He wanted out. 

He wanted to be free…

Why was he here again? Where was ____? 

No, he couldn't say the name or think about it. It was too painful. 

This already happened…he was free. This was a fragment of his memory and it was slowly fading away, bleeding into an all encompassing white void where Fenrir stood. He was looking warily at the man coming toward him that had waved his hand and wiped the hellish memory away.

"My beloved, my love, I have found you."

No, no—he couldn't be here! It was dangerous and Fenrir couldn't bear for his beloved to see him this way.

He had to wake up. 

"No, love! Wait! Please!" 

___

  Fenrir gasped, jerking up from sweat soaked bed sheets. He sat, rubbing his hands over his face. 

  A few weeks ago, he would have brushed the dream aside as nothing more than that. But deep down, he knew better. 

More than that, he remembered. He wasn't supposed to, of course. But the more he saw that man, it brought all memories the others tried to keep from him to the surface. 

For he is Fenrir, a god between the humans and other creatures of the earth.

 He was free from his accursed prison but not from the chains that bound his soul and his other form and limited his powers, though, for more magic he could simply draw on the Aether.  And the bindings on his soul that weakened him and kept him from shifting… Fenrir smiled. 

   The human's magic today had progressed quite far and the magic — aether was all around him. Somehow, the bindings that had locked his power and other form away had waned immensely. 

Just a little more…

Despite the myths told about him, the Aesir, not all of the Aesir hated or condemned him to this state. Thor, despite what mortals believe of what they call Norse mythology, was not on terrible terms with his father Loki. It was more of a love/hate relationship. Loki, his father, the God of Mischief, as many called him, was doing who knows what. It was his father that helped save him but also kept him bound like this, but those bonds were almost close to breaking.

 

Fenrir snarled deep in his throat as he stood, bare feet padding softly against the smooth wooden floor to the kitchen. He checked his phone for any new messages. Only two missed messages from someone he least expected to hear from. 

Fenrir heard the front door click open and bang shut as footsteps thumped his way. 

"~Honey, I'm home~" A cheery voice sang, and a head popped out from behind the wall. A curly mop of red hair framing a fair and freckled face.

Fenrir arched his brow and snorted, "You wish." 

Aedyn pouted. "You're mean. Are you not happy to see me, Fen?"

Fenrir rolled his eyes. "Did I say that, little spitfire? No. Your presence fills my existence with joy, for you are the bane of my existence." Fenrir grumbled the rest under his breath, eyes turning away from the human form of what he liked to call a walking ray of sunshine. 

"Come, we have work to do, little spitfire." 

— 

Fenris looked to the sky, droplets of water softly hitting his face as drizzling rain fell from a dark gray sky. He shook his hair, like he would be shaking his fur had he been a wolf. 

If he was able to shift into his wolf form. 

He watched the humans with disinterest, for he had no interest in them, while looking for those hidden in plain sight. Members of the other races flawlessly blended between them (for humans weren't the only ones walking the street), and acted their whole lives to fit in.

They were looking for a rogue vampire. 

Fenrir's instincts never led him astray. The rogue vampire was hiding somewhere in this market, waiting for an unsuspecting prey. 

He would be Fenrir's prey. 

Aedyn hid himself well to stay out of harm's way, as Fenrir had told him to. 

Fenrir sniffed the air. 

The tangent scent of copper filled his nostrils, even in his humanoid form, his sense of smell was greater than a werewolves, being who he was. 

He followed the scent, easing between the people milling about the street market to an alleyway, and in the far corner was his suspect already feeding on his captive in the shadows.

Fenrir let out a deep quaking rumble.

The rogue was so lost in feeding he still hadn't registered Fenrir was even there. 

This rogue vampire was young, newly made and without a coven. He could sense it. 

In quick steps, he had the rogue vampire by the throat, squeezing until the vampire removed his fangs from the poor woman's neck and tossed him into the wall with his full strength. 

Fenrir quickly checked on the woman. She had lost a lot of blood but she was still alive. 

Aedyn came and took the woman away with a grim nod as Fenrir turned back to the rogue vampire. He hissed at Fenrir and lunged. 

But even with this newborn vampire's speed, he was no match for Fenrir. 

Fenrir paused as he was about to tear the head from the shoulders. 

He could kill this newborn blood-crazed vampire, or give him to one of elders of the vampire's covens to deal with and see if the newborn had any hope of changing and being saved from this depraved little creature it had been forced to become.

___

He stiffened, scenting one of the elder vampires he was just thinking of standing behind him. 

"Thank you for catching him, Fenrir. I'll take him now." The vampire elder was one of the oldest ones of their kind and still looked not a day over twenty-five, for whenever they were turned or made. He was tall, with long blond hair and a butler's suit. He was probably 1,000 years old or more. Fenrir was even older than all of them. 

"Elias. Keep better track of your vampires when they create newborns. This one's killed plenty of people in the last week alone and I'm doing this on behalf of another who asked for my help. Next time, the newborns won't be so lucky because I won't hesitate to consider being merciful. I will simply, and quickly, kill them. I don't care who their sire is. Keep them all in line or under control, or they will become my prey to hunt and kill on sight. Tell all the other coven leaders as well." Fenrir snarled, baring his fangs. Elias was the top leader of Vampires. Though he was more like the King of Vampire's in this city, so the coven leaders answered him.

The fact that Elias was here himself spoke volumes. The sire that turned this newborn must be someone close to Elias. But Elias was one of the few oldest supernatural beings in the city that knew who he truly was and Elias knew not to undermine or underestimate him. Not even the Alphas of the two largest werewolf packs in the city knew. Nor did the Supernatural Council they had all banned together to create. 

"Yes, of course, Fenrir. Good day to you." 

Fenrir tossed the newborn at Elias's feet and sneered before he turned and strode away.