Fell had always been rather protective over you. Since you’d fallen, he’d come to know about the trauma your father had put you through. You woke up with nightmares, you had occasional flashbacks - surefire signs of complex PTSD. Despite how he kept a facade of cruelty in public, he was rather kind to you behind closed doors. You woke up yelling again. Fell, as always, had rushed upstairs and scooped you into his arms, his boney fingers brushing against your forehead.