C11 Cinderella among the wolves

I watched the reaper’s head roll past my lifeless body, stopping just before it reached the edge of the stone platform. A heavy silence filled the air as the reality of what Fenrir had done sank in. His hands, still glowing from the magic, clenched in victory, but I couldn’t shake the heavy weight in my chest.

"You just killed him," I whispered, struggling to find my voice. "He was just doing his job."

Fenrir’s brows furrowed, but his face was unreadable. He didn’t seem to care for my judgment. "You think I care about that? Do you really want to end up in Hell forever?"

My mouth went dry. "No, but—"

Before I could finish, Fenrir lifted me effortlessly, pulling me against his chest with a strength that left me breathless. My feet dangled, and the world seemed to tilt as he moved toward the towering statue of the wolf. My body felt as light as air, helpless in his grasp.

"Where are you taking me?" I whispered, barely able to keep my voice steady.

"Does it matter if you're coming willingly?" he replied with a cold chuckle, his voice like ice scraping over glass.

The words sent a chill down my spine, reminding me of the raw power he wielded. I clutched his arm, the weight of everything pressing down on me. Then I remembered something from our earlier conversation. He didn’t know who or what I was. He had no idea what I was capable of. He had said he would spend centuries studying me... “Are you taking me to my wolf?” The words left my lips before I could stop them.

Fenrir’s grunt was all the response I needed. He raised his hand, and the air shimmered with the pull of magic. A swirling portal of white light appeared before us. The wind that rushed from it was frigid, biting into my skin like shards of glass.

"Can I take the reaper's cloak?" I asked quietly, still unsure of my place in this unfolding nightmare.

"You won’t need clothes where we’re going." His tone was flat, emotionless, as he stepped forward into the light, dragging me with him.

The world around me shifted, the familiar reality melting away as though it had never existed. I felt as though I had been tossed into freezing water, the shock of the cold settling deep in my bones. My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I gasped for air, my body refusing to cooperate.

"What is this place?" I chattered, my teeth chattering with more force than I could control. "Where are we?"

Fenrir's voice came, sharp as a whip. "I already told you. My home."

A cold knot twisted in my stomach. "When can I get my wolf? When can I have the strength you promised me... and leave?" I could already feel the weight of the answer pressing down on me. I had no hope of escape.

His laugh was dark, void of any humor. "You're dead. You're Hell-bound. You're torn apart from the inside, and you need me more than I need you."

His words sent a shiver through me, but it wasn’t from the cold. The truth of them burned, seeping into my thoughts, curling around my resolve like a vice. He was right. I was weaker now than I’d ever been.

“Do you even have my wolf?” I asked, the desperation creeping into my voice despite myself.

It took him a moment to respond, his words slow and deliberate. "She’s somewhere in my lands."

The weight of his words crashed over me. My heart sank, and my lungs burned with the cold. I exhaled, the cloud of condensation rising into the freezing air. "So you lied. She’s not missing me." My voice was small, wounded.

"A mere exaggeration," he said, dismissive, as though he could shrug off the truth.

My breath came out in ragged gasps, freezing as it left my chest. "You did this on purpose, didn’t you?" The question slipped out before I could stop it. "You brought me here—naked, through the cold—just to make me weak."

Fenrir stopped walking, his body tensing, his growl vibrating through the air like a thunderstorm. I could feel his anger, like an electric charge, coursing through the space between us. I shrank under his glare, the cold becoming unbearable, the weight of his gaze like chains on my soul.

"Listen to me," he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "You belong to me now. Your body, your soul... and whatever that creature is that roams my lands. All of you belongs to me."

My body shuddered, not from the cold, but from the raw power in his voice. I could feel his hold tightening, and I had no choice but to listen. But even as my body rattled from the cold, my mind raced with thoughts of survival.

"What do you want from me?" I rasped, barely able to speak.

He tilted his head, his lips curling into a grin that sent a chill through me. "I could leave you here to freeze, let you turn to ice and become one of the frost giants. Or I could toss you into the kraken’s lair, let it devour you. Or... I could eat you myself and pick your bones clean."

His words were a twisted promise, and the magic in his eyes flared with an intensity that made me hold my breath.

I said nothing, clamping my lips shut. This wasn’t a moment for defiance.

Fenrir’s grip remained unyielding, his eyes never leaving mine as silence stretched out between us. He waited, his power heavy in the air.

Finally, I dropped my gaze, hoping he would see my submission. "What do you want from me?" I whispered again, this time softer.

His gaze softened slightly, but there was no kindness in it. "We go to my home, where you can warm up and rest. We’ll talk. I’ll help you get revenge on the bastards who stole your soul."

A cold knot settled in my stomach, but I knew I had no other choice. "Fenrir?" I whispered, my voice shaky.

His eyes flicked down to me, a hint of something dark flickering in their depths. "Yes?"

"May I... share your warmth?" I shivered again, this time more deliberately, the cold seeping deeper into my bones. But even in my desperation, part of me knew what I was doing. I had to play along. Had to survive.

His gaze was sharp, assessing every inch of my exposed, lifeless body. Normally, this would be the moment I’d squirm in embarrassment or self-consciousness. But all that was gone now—vanished along with the warmth of life. I was beyond the point of modesty. I had been sprawled out, naked, in front of everyone at the Wolf Moon Mixer. The world had already seen the parts of me I’d kept hidden. Now, all that remained was the cold, creeping into my bones and stealing away whatever dignity I had left.

Fenrir didn’t hesitate. He pulled me closer, enveloping me in the kind of warmth I hadn’t felt in what felt like forever. His arms wrapped around me, forming a cocoon of raw strength and power. I barely had the energy to keep my head upright. With a quiet sigh, I rested against him, inhaling deeply, the comfort of his presence filling the void left by everything else I’d lost.

"Thank you," I whispered, the words leaving my mouth almost absentmindedly. My mind was already swirling with thoughts of what I could do to repay him—preferably something that involved him running through the freezing wilderness, half-naked, if I could find the strength for it.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, a low grunt escaped him, and he kept walking, his pace steady, unwavering.

I couldn’t let the silence stretch on. There were still things I needed to know, things that couldn’t wait. "What do you want in return?" I asked, forcing the words out. My throat felt raw, but I needed answers.

"No talking," Fenrir snapped, his voice dark and final.

I felt the weight of his command settle over me, and my jaw snapped shut without a second thought. His presence was suffocating, in the way a storm clouds the sky before it unleashes. He didn’t need to say much—he made sure I knew exactly who held the power here. But I wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

We had centuries, after all. There would be time to figure this out, time to make him understand that I wasn’t going to be a passive participant in whatever game he had planned.