Marked
Blood of Magic Masterlist
Takes place after First Taste
CW: vomiting, aftermath of noncon, non-consensual drugging, non-consensual body modification, panic attack
Theo wanted to roll out of bed, throw on some clothes, and run. Simeon had left the door open, this might be his only opportunity for escape. But he couldn’t. His head pounded, his stomach roiled, his limbs trembled. He tried to push himself to a seated position. His vision blurred for a second and the whole world tilted in front of him. He fell back to the bed, vomiting again. He had never felt this sick in his entire life.
Smoke plum. That’s what Simeon had called it. Admittedly, Theo couldn’t remember all of what had happened when he was under its influence, but he knew he hadn’t felt like this.
“I’m not gonna let them drug me again,” Theo whispered to himself. Sour bile burned the back of his throat. He closed his eyes as another wave of nausea hit him.
"I have something that’ll help,” Simeon said. Theo started at his voice, he had been so embroiled in his own misery that he hadn’t heard him approach.
“What is it?” Theo asked.
“More smoke plum, of course,” Simeon replied. Theo shuddered.
“No, I don’t want any of that. Not if it makes me feel like this.”
“You’ll get used to it the more you take. The first time is always the worst. It’ll get better.”
Theo forced himself to make eye contact with Simeon. “I said no!” he yelled. “I said no but you didn’t listen! You forced yourself on me and now you’re trying to drug me. I hate you!”
Theo’s body shook. Panic engulfed him, panic unlike any he had ever known. He couldn’t breathe, his vision was tunneling …
Simeon grabbed Theo’s shoulder. Theo jerked back, smacking his head against the headboard.
“No! Get away from me!”
Simeon glowered at Theo. “You’re making this harder than it has to be. All of this will be over if you just take the drug. You’re only hurting yourself.”
“Fuck you!” Theo screamed. “Fuck you! Leave me alone!”
Simeon backhanded Theo across the face. The force knocked Theo to his side. His ears rang. Then Simeon was climbing on top of him, a knee pressed into Theo’s abdomen, a hand grasping Theo’s chin. Theo thrashed about. Simeon was yelling something, but Theo couldn’t hear him over the pounding in his ears. Then there were more hands holding him down, forcing him flat on his back. One hand grabbed his mouth and wrenched it open, quickly shoving a long wooden rod between his teeth to trap his mouth open. Then a bitter powder was being poured into his mouth. Theo coughed, the sound turning into a sob. He fought desperately against his assailants, the last throes of an animal caught in the hunter’s noose. Vertigo hit him like a clap of thunder and he stopped fighting as he closed his eyes against the spinning room.
“We’ll have to make sure he gets a dose every couple hours. At least until he’s stopped fighting us.”
Theo’s entire body relaxed as the calm pulled at his mind. The nausea and dizziness were still there, but muted.
Theo was enveloped in calm. The bed was warm, the blankets soft against his skin. He knew he was high, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The high was better than the fear. Or the panic. Or any of the myriad of other miserable things he had felt over the last couple days. He closed his eyes as he drifted off.
Theo was awakened by the sounds of footsteps approaching him. He blinked his eyes open. Simeon was there, with another reaper. That reaper held some tools Theo had never seen before. The reaper whistled.
“You weren’t lying when you said he was strong. I smelled him as soon as you opened the door,” the reaper said. “I haven’t gotten to tattoo a mage in a long time. This will be fun.”
Tattoo a mage? Oh, I’m a mage.
“Theo, take your shirt off,” Simeon said. It took Theo a second to process the words. Then he pulled at the hem of his shirt. His limbs weren’t coordinated enough though, and instead of removing the shirt it got twisted around his shoulders. Theo groaned in frustration.
“He’s high as a kite,” the reaper said. “How much did you give him?”
Simeon batted Theo’s hands away and finished removing his shirt for him. He was thoughtful like that.
“The standard dose, plus a half-dose booster. He tried to fight me on the booster, but once I got it down his throat he mellowed out.”
The reaper sat down on the bed next to Theo and took his arm in his hands. His fingers were ice-cold against Theo’s overheated skin.
“Cold,” Theo slurred, his voice pitched into a whine.
“Sorry,” the reaper said in amusement. He examined Theo’s arm, then the other one. “I’ll start marking out the pattern. He’s a three, right?”
“That’s correct,” Simeon said.
“Wha’does that mean?” Theo asked. His eyelids were getting heavy again.
“That you’re very powerful.”
“Sleepy,” Theo whispered.
“Then sleep, little mage. You don’t need to be awake for this.”
Theo let his eyes close and began to drift off.
The reaper was painting something on his arms. Then a pinprick of pain punctured the flesh of his wrist.
Theo gasped and tried to pull away, his eyes flying open. Simeon grabbed his hand, holding him in place. The other reaper had a needle. Theo took in the dark black lines the reaper had painted. They spiraled up his forearms, running from his wrist to his elbow. The needle punctured his wrist again. It hurt, but not badly. The initial poke had startled him more than anything else.
Theo blinked at the reaper, gaze transfixed as the needle punctured his skin again. And again. Beads of blood welled up from the tiny wounds. The reaper kept making little punctures in the flesh of his arm, staying within the pattern he had marked out.
The pain was distant, almost as if it was happening to someone else. Theo’s vision unfocused.
“Good boy,” Simeon said, running a hand through Theo’s hair. “There you go, nice and calm.”
“Like being calm,” Theo said. His eyelids were getting heavy again.
“You should,” Simeon replied. “Go on, take a nap.”
Theo didn’t have to be told twice.
When he awoke, the reaper was halfway up his forearm. A trail of black stood out against his pale skin. Theo frowned and tried to bring his arm closer to inspect the strange substance.
“Stop moving,” the reaper said. Theo immediately complied. “As soon as I finish this line we’ll take a break.”
The day passed like that. Theo drifted in and out of sleep, the reaper working on his arm. By the end of the day, two thick black lines spiraled up his right arm.
Simeon gave him some stew and water. Theo didn’t notice the powder that was mixed into the food this time. Then he fell asleep, Simeon’s lips on his.
This went on for a couple days. When Theo blinked his eyes open, a headache pounded behind his eyes. He whimpered. Nausea squeezed his stomach and cold sweat coated his skin. Then his gaze caught on his arms. Three thick black lines spiraled up each of them. He frowned and brought his arm closer. He swiped a finger across the line. He felt nothing but skin. No paint. He frowned again and forcefully rubbed his thumb across the line. It didn’t budge. Panic engulfed him. He frantically rubbed at the tattoo. It was in his skin. It was in his skin, and it wouldn’t come out, and it wasn’t supposed to be there.
“No no no no,” Theo muttered as he rubbed at his arm. His non-tattooed skin was turning pink from the friction, but the tattoo didn’t budge.
“What’s wrong?”
Theo looked up at Simeon, who stood in front of him with a bowl.
“It won’t come off,” Theo choked out. “It won’t come off!” Panic was closing his throat. It wouldn’t come off and he couldn’t breathe and–
“Hey,” Simeon put a hand on Theo’s shoulder, “you’re okay. Take a deep breath.”
But Theo couldn’t. His vision was tunneling and his heart raced in his chest. His hands shook. Simeon cursed. “You should eat. You’ll feel better once you have some food in you.”
Theo shook his head. With the way bile was crawling up his throat, he wouldn’t be able to get anything down.
“Theo, look at me.” Theo looked up at Simeon. Simeon had a tiny bit of white powder in his palm. “You need your medicine. Open your mouth, I’ll help you.”
Theo did as he was told. Simeon poured the powder into his mouth, careful to not let any of it spill. The bitterness almost made him gag, but he managed to stop himself.
“I’m scared,” Theo said with a sob.
“I know, I know.” Simeon sat down next to Theo and pulled him against his chest. “I’m sorry I was late with your smoke plum. I didn’t know you’d wake up so soon.”
Smoke plum. That’s the medicine he’d given him. Another wave of panic engulfed him. He’d been drugged, tattooed, kept a prisoner. He was never getting out of here. He was an object to these people.
Theo screamed as all his terror hit him at once. “It’ll be over soon,” Simeon said. “Soon, I promise.” He clutched Theo close as Theo sobbed.
The smoke plum slowly wound its way through his body. His anxiety lessened a fraction. His heart slowed, and he could finally take in a deep breath.
“There you go,” Simeon murmured. “Deep breaths for me.” Theo breathed in, held it, then breathed out. Then again. As the calm took him, a thought did as well.
“I’m never getting out of here, am I?”
“Never,” Simeon said.
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