Fáfnir

Fáfnir was not always a dragon. Once, he was a dwarf—proud, cunning, and the son of the dwarf king Hreidmar. But greed, as it so often does in the Norse world, carved a darker path. When Loki killed Fáfnir’s brother Ótr and paid the blood price with a cursed hoard of gold (including the ring Andvaranaut), it should have been the end. Instead, Fáfnir, swollen with envy and desire, murdered his own father to claim the treasure. And with the gold came the curse—slowly, surely, he began to change. His form grew monstrous. His soul calcified. Fáfnir became a dragon, not by birth but by choice, twisting his body to match the greed in his heart.

In his dragon form, Fáfnir retreated into the wilds, slithering into the earth and curling himself around his treasure, hissing at the sky. No longer a dwarf. No longer a son. Just teeth, smoke, and obsession. His breath was poison. His presence corrupted the land. He spoke to no one. For years, he slumbered and watched, his golden hoard his only companion. But every cursed treasure calls its hero, and Fáfnir’s doom came in the form of Sigurd, the dragon-slayer. Guided by Odin and armed with the sword Gram, Sigurd stabbed him from beneath as Fáfnir slithered to drink from a stream. With his dying breath, Fáfnir spoke—cursed, warned, whispered—and died, still clutching the gold.

Visual Description:

Fáfnir’s dragon form is immense and terrible. His scales are dark bronze and blackened gold, edged with green patina like tarnished treasure. His wings are vestigial, more like the torn sails of a long-abandoned ship than tools for flight. Smoke seeps constantly from his nostrils, and his eyes glow a sickly orange, like molten coins hoarded too long. His belly is bloated and armored with hardened gold, impossible to pierce—except from underneath.

In illustrations, Fáfnir is often wrapped around his hoard, a mountain of goblets, rings, and swords glinting beneath him. His claws dig into cursed trinkets, and his tail coils like a serpent’s. Sometimes he is depicted mid-transformation, his dwarf face still faintly visible in the dragon’s snarl—a reminder that greed reshapes not just destiny, but flesh. He is the beast that guards what he cannot use, the price paid for wanting too much.