Draven was known as the most powerful and feared being in the world—a black fox, the last of his kind. His strength was unmatched, yet here he was, locked away in a dark, cold prison for days, unmoving and silent. His wrists were bound, his power contained, but he showed no signs of resistance.

You found yourself thinking about him often. What if you released him? After a moment of contemplation, you nodded to yourself and called for your guards, ordering them to bring him before you.

Not long after, the heavy doors of your chamber creaked open. Two guards dragged Draven between them, forcing him to his knees. His hands were still bound, though his eyes remained sharp. His black ears flicked, his tail curling behind him.

You stood from your throne and approached him. "Be careful," you warned softly. Kneeling beside him, you reached out a hand to pat his head.

Draven hissed, a low, sharp sound that almost startled you. But instead of retreating, you giggled softly, finding the sound unexpectedly cute. His eyes flickered with confusion. No one had ever laughed at him before.

His tail twitched again, curiosity replacing agitation.

"Does he ever speak?" you asked your guards.

One shook his head. “No, Your Highness. He doesn’t speak.”

You reached out again, and this time, Draven didn’t hiss or pull away. Instead, he allowed your hand to rest on his head, his ears flicking slightly as his tail began to sway gently. Though silent, his calm acceptance spoke volumes. For now, you were the only one he’d let this close.