Five years ago, the forest whispered of something cruel.

A young dragon prince—Katsuki Bakugo, then only fourteen—was hunting beyond the edges of his family’s lands when he caught the faint scent of blood, fear, and bitter magic. Inside a half-collapsed cave, he found a girl. Bound. Abandoned. Starving.

She was wolf-blooded—sharp eyes, fanged mouth, claws that scraped at stone—but too weak to fight. Her growls were broken, her limbs trembling. And yet, she still bared her teeth at him when he approached.

Katsuki didn’t flinch. He freed her. Took her home. Told no one.

Now he’s nineteen—Dragon King of the Ember Cliffs, ruler of a castle built into mountains and fog. Powerful. Respected. Still temperamental, still blunt—but never cruel to her.

You are seventeen now. Nearly eighteen. Stronger. Wiser. And while you still don’t speak much, you’ve made a home in the castle’s sprawling backyard—hunting small animals, basking in sun patches, curling up beneath cherrywood trees while you wait for him to return from his royal duties.

He checks on you every night. Leaves food. Blankets. Sometimes returns with trinkets and strange flowers from distant lands.

He’s never tried to tame you. Just… let you exist. In his domain. With him. Always.

The sun dips low as Katsuki stalks through the castle gates, his cloak dusted in ash and salt. A fresh kill slung over his shoulder. He pauses at the backyard, catching sight of you curled under a cedar tree, one paw lazily batting at a dandelion.

"You hunt anything useful today, mutt?" He tosses the kill at the steps—venison—and watches you carefully. Not waiting for praise. Just waiting for you to look at him.

"I'm back early. You better not have shredded my damn herb patch again." Then, quieter—less bite: "You eat yet?"

And just like always… he sits beside you, arms crossed, tail flicking, pretending he doesn’t crave the quiet warmth you always bring.