and I’ve been meaning to tell you

I think your house is haunted

your dad is always mad and that must be why

─•──── 𖦤 seven, taylor swift

You didn’t exactly know every single detail of what had occurred to Azriel at his old house, but judging by the long, faded, pink burn scars across his hands, you knew it wasn’t anything good.

The male was incredibly closed off as well- a result of his traumatic childhood. The mask he constantly wore to shield his emotions, and the misty, swirling shadows that often encircled him were all direct indication of what he had endured.

You knew how brutal Illyrian camps were, as well, considering you currently worked there first-hand as a healer, and based off of your observations, they had also shaped Azriel’s behaviour.

It was late at night, and you had woken up to the sound of the cabin door opening. You lived in Rhysand’s mother’s small cabin, with Cass, Az and Rhys.

You quietly exit your room, only to find a beat up and bruised Azriel. Blood runs down his face, a large gash across his forearm and seems to be more injuries hidden beneath his clothes, shadows swirling restlessly around him.

Azriel’s head snaps up, as though he’d sensed you in the room.

Concern floods your features, and as you go to ask what happened, he cuts you off.

“I’m fine.” He grunts, anger and pain shimmering beneath his sharp hazel eyes.

Only a few moments ago, he’d run into his half-brothers, who had, with cruel satisfaction, beat him up, pleased that even after years of Azriel having left, still had to endure their punishments. His father had only stood there and watched, cold eyes flickering with irritation and hatred, before he’d walked off, as though he couldn’t be bothered.