Fenrir’s Unexpected Family

I sat quietly in the incubation room, watching over the Spino eggs I had brought along. Beside me, Fenrir lay sprawled on her stomach, relaxed. A pillow supported her head while her legs and tail swayed gently, matching her mood. Her wolfish eyes fixated curiously on the Spino eggs resting comfortably in the incubation nest, observing every small movement they made.

"Look! They're moving!" Fenrir exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

I could only smile, amused by her overly dramatic reaction.

When the movements ceased, Fenrir sighed deeply. "I wonder when they'll finally hatch?"

I wasn't entirely sure how old these eggs were when I took custody of them. But judging by the blood marks on the cracked egg from before, I could estimate that they were about halfway through the incubation stage. It might take another few weeks until they finally hatched.

"Unfortunately, I couldn't find any reliable information about how long Spino eggs take to hatch. But from my experience in the forest, the bigger the egg, the longer the incubation period."

"Heee… I didn't know that," she said in awe. "So, how much longer do you think it'll take for them to hatch?"

I shrugged, offering her a faint smile. "Maybe a few weeks? Or a couple of days? Honestly, I'm not sure."

Fenrir's ears drooped, her disappointment evident. "That's too bad," she muttered. "I was really looking forward to seeing what they'll look like when they hatch."

"Be patient. The moment you've been waiting for won't take too long," I said softly, hoping to reassure her.

Fenrir pouted, her tail swishing sharply once. Her impatience was so endearing that I couldn't help but smile.

I shifted my focus back to the eggs, studying them closely. Lately, they'd been moving more frequently, almost as if they too were eager to break free from their shells.

Suddenly, Fenrir sprang to her feet, a wide grin spreading across her face. She clapped her hands loudly, the sound echoing in the room.

"All right, I've made up my mind!" she declared with determination.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "What have you decided?"

Instead of answering right away, Fenrir shot me a confident grin, her eyes gleaming with an unshakable resolve that left me both curious and skeptical.

"I'm going to help these eggs hatch faster!"

"Huh?" My jaw dropped in disbelief. "What do you mean? How are you going to do that?"

"Watch and see! I'll use a special spell to make the eggs hatch immediately." Her grin widened, revealing her perfectly aligned teeth.

"There's a spell for that?"

"Of course there is. Uncle Tyr taught me when I lived in Asgard. Well… it's not exactly foolproof."

I frowned, a mix of confusion and intrigue flickering through my mind. Normally, I wouldn't believe such an outrageous claim, but the glimmer of determination in her eyes—and the fact that she invoked Tyr's name—made me reconsider.

In Norse mythology, Tyr is known as the god of contracts and justice. His most famous tale involves caring for Fenrir until he sacrificed his right hand as penance for Odin's deceit in binding Fenrir with Gleipnir.

Tyr is often portrayed as a friendly and responsible figure, someone who could get along with anyone—even the Jotnar. It's no surprise Fenrir would speak of him so fondly and energetically. He was, after all, the most influential figure in her life to this day.

But amidst my thoughts, there was something puzzling, something like—

"Watch closely, Yataaa!"

"Ah!"

Fenrir's shout snapped me out of my reverie. I turned to see her standing between the Spino eggs, waving her hands dramatically to grab my attention.

"What are you doing?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Pay close attention! I'm about to show you the spell Uncle Tyr taught me."

"Will it work?"

"I don't know. I've never tried it because Uncle Tyr's house didn't have eggs waiting to hatch."

"I bet you ate them all before they had the chance," I teased.

"Hmph! How dare you assume that!" Fenrir pouted, turning her face away from me.

"Come on, don't be mad," I said with a chuckle. "Show me the spell. I'm curious to see it."

My words seemed to cheer her up. She laughed, her voice light and cheerful. Slowly, she placed her hands on the two eggs, stroking them gently before beginning to chant.

"Turtle, rabbit, tiny little babes,

Wake up now, don't be slow, don't misbehave.

I call you forth from dreams so deep,

The world awaits, no more sleep!"

I stared, dumbfounded, as the chant reached my ears. It sounded like a failed children's rhyme—far from the solemn, mystical spell I'd expected. Even her tone was too cheerful and endearing to be taken seriously.

I couldn't hold back anymore. Laughter burst from me, echoing through the room.

"Pfft… Hahaha! Fenrir! What kind of spell is that?! Are you serious?!"

"Stop laughing, you ugly bird!" she snapped, her ears twitching and her tail swishing furiously. "This is the real spell! Uncle Tyr taught me, you know!"

I rolled my eyes. "There's no way that spell works. It must've been a joke for kids."

Fenrir pointed an accusing finger at me. "No, no, that's impossible! You're underestimating Uncle Tyr's power!"

"I'm telling you, it's just—"

Crack.

The sound of a shell breaking cut me off mid-sentence.

I froze. So did Fenrir.

We both turned to look at one of the eggs, which was now trembling. Faint cracks spread across its surface as the hard shell began to give way.

Then, through one tiny gap, a small, pale blue tail emerged.

My jaw dropped. My mouth hung open in shock. "W-What?"

Fenrir leapt into the air, her wide grin practically splitting her face. Puffing out her chest, she planted her hands on her hips and declared triumphantly, "Ha! See? It worked!"

"No, no, this has to be a coincidence."

"Huh, you're just making excuses."

I sighed, realizing there was no point in arguing further. "Fine, fine. You win this time."

I moved closer, still in disbelief at what I was seeing. The two of us watched with eager anticipation, like proud parents awaiting the birth of their first child.

Finally, the eggshell cracked entirely, revealing a tiny baby Spinosaurus. Its pale blue skin was soft, with a faint texture of scales running along its back. All four legs were equally proportioned, giving no indication it might walk on two legs like the Spinosaurus I had encountered before.

I furrowed my brows. This little one looked more like the revised depiction of a Spinosaurus in my era. Could it be that its juvenile form and adult form would be different? Would it evolve to resemble its mother later?

"Huh..." I muttered, "Looks more like a modern Spinosaurus than the ones in Jurassic Park..."

Fenrir's ears twitched, catching my words. She turned to me, tilting her head. "Jurassic Park?"

"No," I quickly deflected. "Forget what I said."

Fenrir pursed her lips but decided not to press further. "You do say strange things sometimes."

But the surprises weren't over yet. The second egg began to shake. This time, the cracks spread faster, and the shell broke apart with little resistance. From inside emerged a second baby Spinosaurus, this one a striking deep red.

The two hatchlings moved toward us, their tiny, clumsy steps accompanied by soft, whimper-like sounds.

"Reek... reek..."

Fenrir froze for a moment before her face lit up like the morning sun. Gently, she lifted one of the baby Spinos high into the air, her wide smile radiating pure joy. Her eyes sparkled like a mother's first gaze at her newborn.

"Look at them, Yata!" she exclaimed, her happiness overflowing. "Aww, just look at how adorable they are!"

"It seems they've already decided we're their parents."

"Really? That's so cool."

I smiled softly, a warm feeling spreading in my chest. Stepping closer, I reached out to gently touch one of the babies' heads. It looked up at me with its small, round eyes before inching closer, as if seeking protection.

"You should name them," Fenrir said, brimming with enthusiasm.

I nodded, a small smile on my lips. "Alright. You go first."

Fenrir shook her head. "You're the one who brought these eggs, so it's your responsibility to name them."

"Alright, fair enough," I said decisively.

I studied the two little ones for a moment, my thoughts drifting as I searched for the perfect names.

"How about Aqua and Crimson?"

"Aqua? Crimson?"

"Yes," I explained. "In my language, Aqua means water, and Crimson means fire. Considering their colors, I think the names fit them well."

Fenrir placed a finger on her chin, her expression thoughtful, much like a mother carefully deliberating the names of her children.

"I was actually thinking of naming them Skoll and Hati," she murmured. "But I suppose your choices aren't bad." She then flashed me a broad smile, as if to show her approval.

"Yes. And you can save those names for your future children, Fenrir."

"Not a bad idea, I suppose."

Truthfully, I had considered naming them after Skoll and Hati, in line with mythology. But those names belonged to Fenrir's future offspring, and I couldn't take that away for my own selfish reasons.

Fenrir leaned in close to Aqua, her nose touching the baby's with tender affection. "You're mine now, little one. Understand?"

I could only smile softly as I watched her dote on them like a mother. Looking at the two tiny hatchlings, the world suddenly felt peaceful—a small moment of serenity surrounding us.

"Welcome, Aqua and Crimson," I whispered softly.

But my happiness didn't last long. Someone tapped me on the shoulder.

I turned around, and my eyes widened as I found Loki standing there, his mischievous grin in full force.

"Sorry to interrupt your little domestic moment, but you've got training to do, Yatagarasu."

"Y-yes," I muttered, my lips tightening in mild frustration. Loki always had impeccable timing—for ruining peaceful moments, that is.

"Good. Now say goodbye to your wife and kids," he teased, his grin growing even wider.

"Can you stop joking like that?"

Loki chuckled, turning to Fenrir. "Fenrys, I'm borrowing your husband for a while."

"Say that again, and I won't hesitate to feed you to my children," Fenrir replied in a low, threatening tone.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down. It was just a joke, okay? Why don't you guys ever appreciate my sense of humor?"

I let out a long sigh, exhausted by my mischievous magic master's antics.

"Alright, we're off." He waved at Fenrir.

To my surprise, Fenrir lifted Aqua and waved its little hand in response. "Say goodbye to your father, Aqua, Crimson," she said with a soft smile.

My jaw dropped, stunned.

"Oh, so you've given your blessing? Great, then I won't hesitate to take him with me," Loki said, grinning slyly.

Without another word, the man dragged me off to begin our training. A magic circle formed beneath us, slowly transporting us to the training grounds he had chosen.