Archive of Our Own ^beta

Marchion hissed.

Thooraki snarled.

The two were arguing in the empty throne room of the Gaze Electric, both of them bristling with frustration. It oozed from them, and if anyone else were there they’d be infected with the same anger. Their teeth gritted, their gazes sharper than the tip of a vibroblade. Their poisons intertwining in a furious dance of claws, teeth and eyes. The poison dripping into eachother, making them only feel more rage.

“Marchion, you’re being ridiculous!” The vibrant red of the chiss’s eyes sharpening into a dangerous glow, illuminating a small space of the dark hall.

“How am I being ridiculous, exactly?” The black holes he had for eyes absorbed the light of the others eyes, and he squinted with a growl. His voice was coarse, like a bag of sand spilling outwards onto the ground. Coarse and quiet.

Thooraki scoffed. “I thought that was obvious! You make demands you know I cannot hold up to.”

“All I have asked is for your loyalty.” Marchion’s fingers curled into a tight fist, and his lips curled at the edges.

“Your loyalty demands I stay with you! And not with my people!”

“Is that too much to ask? To have someone devoted to me? I thought my partner would understand that the most.” His voice was laced with toxin, his voice coming out as a hiss.

The others face scrunched up with disgust, sneering loudly. “Devoted to you? Why would I devote myself to you?”

“That is what a partner is meant to do, isn’t it?” His eyebrows furrowed deeply, his mouth opening to reveal the teeth, the dim light glinting off of them.

“I am devoted to the Ascendancy. It is the purpose of my existence to protect it!” Thooraki reaches a hand to his chest, motioning towards himself as he barked out the words.

“Oh, and allowing me into the Ascendancy is protecting it? Knowing what I could do to everyone there?” Marchion snapped back, jabbing a hand outwards.

The chiss was silent for a few moments, looking downwards towards the ground. He was right. If this turned out wrong, he would’ve gambled and lost. He could be the one to lead his people to their deaths. All because he allowed this man to come into his life, gave him his love, and was a fool.

“Maybe that was a mistake. A mistake I will not do again. I cannot be loyal to you and my people. You clearly cannot handle me having responsibilities elsewhere. It’s pathetic!” The syndic clenched his teeth, letting out a shaking sigh.

Ro sneered, his lips then twisted into a cruel grin. “You’ll be loyal to me, Mitth’oor’akiord. I will make sure of it.” His clawed hands shoved the other to the ground; he fell over with a loud growl.

“Just what are you doing, Marchion?” He spat out. “This is hardly the time for such activities!”

The man scoffed, stomping over and grabbing ahold of some chains. “You will bare my mark, Thooraki. I will make you mine.” He roughly takes the others robes off, leaving his torso exposed to the cold air.

“Marchion-“ His voice quivered.

“You’re going to be mine, and only mine.” He hissed, then locking his wrists in thick cuffs. He turned and stalked towards a small furnace, the fire inside of it roaring and twisting with the slight breeze of the hall. He takes a metal pole from besides it, the end of the pole equipped with a symbol, a rough circle with 4 points extending outwards as it curls around. The symbol of the Eye of the Nihil. He placed it into the fire. Heating it.

Thooraki’s heart rushed. He pulled at his restraints, his eyes widening in slight panic. Why was Marchion doing this? Why was he suddenly acting so… possessive? He had no idea why. It scared him. It reminded him of that horrible day that he had first met him, that horrible, sinking fear he had felt.

He was feeling it again.

“Now,” Marchion began, “Hold still.” He took the pole from the fire, the symbol now a glowing orange from the heat. It was a brand. Just why did he have a brand? What was he doing with it? Why was he… oh kriff.

His footsteps echoed through the room, the heavy clacking of his boots. The crackling of the burning metal. “Show your back to me,” he commanded, and Thooraki reluctantly obeyed. He was shaking. He couldn’t stop it from happening. It was uncontrollable.

Then there was a searing pain. The brand was placed onto his cool blue skin, the fiery orange of the symbol contrasting heavily against it. It sizzled. Smoke came off of it, and the smell of burning flesh quickly started to emanate from the mark. The chiss pulled at his restraints and clenched his teeth tightly, his face screwed with pain. But he wouldn’t scream. He wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of such things.

“I have… been needing to test this.” Marchion’s voice was cruelly emotionless. He pulled back the brand, and Thooraki let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His head whipped around as he glared at the Eye with more anger than anything he’d ever seen.

But the pain wasn’t over yet. “Just so more people can see…” the brand was put to the side, and Marchion leans down to kneel right next to him. His breath was hot and heavy on his skin. His mouth drew open, those sharp teeth of his glistening softly in the light.

And he bit down on Thooraki’s neck. Hard. Blood dripped from his teeth as he moved his head for a better grip. Making sure he left a mark that couldn’t be easily hid. His tongue lapped at the blood that continued to ooze, his hands going to his shoulders to support himself.

The syndic was just frozen. No reaction was given. He was truly scared. Marchion seemed to have just snapped, all too suddenly. It rattled him to his core.

Marchion hadn’t hurt him before, not like this. Not even when Thooraki was just playing with his feelings for fun. He felt like sobbing. Was this revenge for it all? Revenge for caring for his people more than his partner? He remained silent.

Ro let go of his neck, licking his lips with a groan. “There. You’re mine. You will be mine forever… right, Thooraki?”

No response.

“Thooraki?” His smile faded, as if he realized his mistake. As if he was coming back to his senses.

“Thooraki…” he releases the chains. The syndic simply stood, grabbed his discarded robes, and sped out of the room. Marchion reached a hand out, then retracting it.

He wouldn’t forget his mistake. Not ever. He could feel his father standing over his shoulder, the disapproval on his bloodied face apparent. “Oh, Marchion… hurting the only person who ever loved you? How pathetic. You’re no Ro to me.” The apparition hissed, the voice laced with disgust.

“Shut up…” He walked towards his throne and sank into the cold stone, putting his head in his hands.

He was becoming weaker. He wasn’t feeling right. How could he fix this? He hurt him, branded him. And for what? Nothing. Nothing at all.

He would fix this. For Thooraki. For his one and only love.