((A/N: As said in the summary, TRIGGER WARNING: BURNS.
I want to share a little backstory about this story before I post it. I want to begin by saying that Azriel means a lot to me. He is a burn survivor, like me. A few years ago I was trapped in a burning building and had 2nd degree burns over 15% on my body (mostly legs).
I had to learn a lot of lessons over the past few years, the heaviest one was to be accepting of my new self. That just because I was not burned as bad as others have been, I have been through an equally traumatic event. That I do not always have to be strong. That I survived.
I have incorporated a lot of myself into this fic because I see myself in Azriel. It shows that no matter how long ago it was, the flashbacks can be completely debilitating. It never truly leaves you, and that's okay. PTSD is something that I am learning to live with.
I wanted to show Azriel in a state that we aren't accustomed to seeing. Just because he is okay on the outside, does not mean he is on the inside. It is so easy to trigger it. Just looking at fire is enough for me. This story was incredibly hard for me to write. I had to stop a couple of times to refrain from having flashbacks of my own. This took me a few days to write as I had to completely walk away.))
Azriel watched out of the corner of his eyes as one of his brothers in arms, Cassian, taught the newly-born High Fae how to fight.
Sparring with Rhys used to be fun, back in the day, before he was locked away in Velaris during Amarantha's reign. Now, he only felt like yawning. He hadn't even broken a sweat. His High Lord was so out of shape after being imprisoned under the mountain, he almost felt that bad he could beat Rhys with his attention diverted. Even these last few months hadn't done much to help, since there wasn't a lot of time to train.
Of course, he suspected that his brother wasn't paying much mind, either.
Feyre and Cassian had just gone back to training after a short break and talk. Azriel hadn't quite picked up on the conversation, but the names Tamlin and Mor had not gone amiss.
When they got back on the floor, he heard her mutter, "I'm fine."
The words didn't sound convincing.
How could she be fine?
Rhys signaled for them to end their fight. Azriel obeyed, and they both turned to the others. His eyes widened in surprise, but not at Feyre's tears.
Her hands-
Fire.
She was lost in the darkness of her own mind and she had no idea that she was burning right through Cassian's training gloves.
Although he kept himself still on the outside, his innards were squirming. He broke into a cold sweat. His mind started racing, heading very quickly to the dark place deep, deep inside of him.
The burning smell from the gloves seeped into his nostrils and even without inhaling, he could smell it. Taste it. If this continued, it wouldn't be long until the scent of singed flesh would poison the air.
But Azriel stood there, frozen to his spot, his heart rate picking up.
No...no, please!
The small voice of his eight-year-old self infiltrated his mind. Begging for them to stop.
Please don't do this!
He had cried, heavy sobs wracking his body when he realized what his half-brothers meant to do.
"Please, stop!" he pleaded with his attackers. They were not much older than he was, but they were vicious, cruel. Azriel backed into the corner of his cell, but they were inside the barred door and there was nowhere for him to run.
The smiles on his brothers' faces were wild, rabid.
"We only want to run an experiment."
Their "experiments" always meant immense pain for him.
"We promise it will only hurt for a moment. You'll heal right up."
Azriel was so scared, he was trembling. One of the boys held a small pot of oil.
"Please, don't…I can't...," he blubbered, his words slurred.
"Stop whining or it'll be worse for you," his brother said. He signalled to the other boy. "Hold him."
Azriel tried to melt into the corner, but it was no use. After being forced to the floor on his stomach, the older boy sat on him, and held his hands out. His other brother poured the thick oil over his hands.
"Please," he prayed, quietly. To everyone. Anyone.
Help me…
He heard the scratch of a match being lit against the wall.
"We just want to see how fast you can heal, baby brother."
"We've heard the healing power of an Illyrian is amazingly fast."
He watched out of the corner of his eye as the fire was moved closer to his hands. More tears leaked out of his eyes as he realized no one was coming to help him. No one would care.
They lit his hands on fire and he closed his eyes. He couldn't bear to watch.
For half a moment, he didn't feel anything while the fire burned through the oil.
But then…
Azriel screamed.
And screamed.
And screamed.
Not just pain, but horror, as well.
He could feel the skin melting off of his hands.
It couldn't have been more than a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity.
"He's not healing!"
"What's going on-," a deep voice said from outside the cell.
The weight of his brother lifted off of him and his hands fell to the floor on either side of him. Water was doused on his back and washed over his arms and hands. For a moment he felt relief.
Just a moment.
Azriel opened his eyes to see blood and mangled flesh….
And then the pain came rushing back.
"I'm all right," he heard a voice say.
Azriel's attention snapped back to the present. Feyre had stopped before burning Cassian. He let out a silent breath of relief.
Suddenly, Rhys had disappeared from beside him and had Feyre wrapped in his wings.
Cassian moved towards him and jabbed him lightly in the side. He nodded his head towards the empty side of the floor.
Azriel moved and began sparring with him.
Later that night, Azriel sat alone in his room. He stared down at his ruined hands, laid in his lap.
"I saw your face," Cassian's voice said from the doorway.
"You know I still have my moments." He looked up to his brother.
"Yeah," Cassian said and closed the door. He leaned against the wood and crossed his arms. "Just remember that they can't harm you here. They can't hurt you ever again."
"Unfortunately, they can still reach me here," Azriel said and put a finger to his temple. His brother was silent for a moment. "But I can't complain. I haven't been through anything compared to Feyre."
Cassian sighed.
"Trauma is trauma. Don't belittle the things that you have been through just because you think someone else has it worse. It's okay to show a little weakness every once in awhile."
Azriel frowned and looked down at his hands once again.
"You're both survivors. You survived and you're here with us."
Cassian opened the door and started to head out.
"Cassian," Azriel started. The other Illyrian stopped halfway through the doorframe. "Thank you."
He nodded and left the room.