Speak
A Transformers Fanfiction
Written by redheadedrobot
I (sadly) do not own any of the Transformers franchise. However, this story is completely mine. BTW, this takes place on Cybertron and may or may not become an Elita-1 story. It depends.
Chapter One
My sparkmother is dying. I stand by the side of her berth and watch her as she trembles, and the breath comes harder for her. Her violet optics are fading.
I try to think of something to say. I wish I knew how to feel. How is one supposed to act when the femme who carried your spark is fading into the void before your gaze? Sad, angry, horrified, I suppose; but in truth, it is fear more for my little sister's fragile spark than fear of my sparkmother's passing; and as I try to decide if I feel sorrow for my sparkmother, all I see is the femme who lived with me, a dim shell, her true spark only coming out in brief flashes of life and laughter.
"F-Firesp..spark," I hear her say. She reaches out a shaking hand, and I grip it between my steady ones. "Yes."
A pair of purple optics meets my own. I see weakness, and fear, and pain. And regret. Lots of that.
"T-take care of…Lightstar…"
"Lightspark, Mother. Her name is Lightspark." My grip gets tighter and the older femme's optics widen briefly before she forgets that I may be hurting her. Just like she has forgotten my name, and my sister's, and nearly everything else of late. I'm grateful Lightspark isn't here with us—I made her stay away—so that I wouldn't have to see the pain and sadness when she hears her own sparkmother forget who she is.
"Mother" doesn't seem to realize the slip-up. She stares off into the void, obviously lost. A single word escapes her mouthplates. "Firenze…"
I start. Firenze was my sparkfather, for whom I was named. He was killed on the outskirts of Iacon when I was but eleven vorns, and Lightspark only four. He was an Energon miner, nothing special, and they said he was killed in a mining accident. At the time I didn't know enough to tell otherwise, but I saw his body briefly, and I know now that they did not tell me the truth.
After Firenze was killed, Acaciah, my sparkmother, changed from the fiery, intelligent, always-on-her-pedes caregiver to the lost, confused, miserable do-nothing she is now. I had to quit my education for another two vorns to get a job and support us, until the mining company finally agreed to pay us compensation for my sparkfather's death. The sum keeps our systems stocked with Energon and enough surplus money for a few extras, but it will never compensate for two vorns of my life full of exhaustion and pain, for my sister's weeping when her mother forgot her name, for our lost innocence.
"Mother?"
There is no indication she's heard me. I shake her hand. "Mother. Acaciah!"
And then, she awakens. Her optics shift and lock onto me, suddenly burning with a desperate intensity. Her weak hand suddenly clenches and I gasp in pain. She pulls me down to her face.
"Firespark! You..must..speak well. You must be true!"
As I puzzle over this remark, she reaches across and pulls my head to look at her. "Promise me, promise me you will be true!"
"I…I promise—"
Before my amazed optics, Acaciah suddenly lets out a cry, writhes, her hand gripping mine so hard I'm dented. She rambles, most of which I can't understand. The bits that do don't make much sense. "A-A Seeker!...light extinguished…o-one sh-shall…"
"Mother!" I cry, alarmed. She goes still, clutching me to her mouthplates. "One…shall…fall." she whispers.
My spark clenches cold.
Acaciah falls back. I've seen enough dying sparks to know what's coming. As the light in her optics fades away, I hear her mutter my name, and then, "…Speak. He must stand."
This last comment is so confusing that I can't help but to grab her. "Mother! What are you talking about?"
But it's too late. The femme who carried my spark goes limp and yielding, her optics shutter, and her head falls to the side. And just like that, Acaciah, sparkmate of Firenze, mother of Firespark and Lightspark, dies.
"Lightspark?" I call, knocking softly on the door of my sister's bunk. A pale yellow blur bolts up and embraces me. A pair of lavender optics weeps Energon tears as she throws her arms around me and buries her head beneath my chest and weeps in typical thirteen-vorn-old vulnerability.
I hold Lightspark close as she sobs, wishing I was still young enough to feel such pain and mourn so freely, and mulling over those bizarre comments, only one of which makes the slightest sense. "Speak well". I suppose she was referring to my budding career as a politician. I am very soon to graduate from the Speaker's Academy, and then it's off to speak out for the people of my city, Sor'oe. But right now the only thing I should think about is the young femme weeping in my arms.
"She's gone," Lightspark murmurs after a few moments.
Resting my chin on her head, I sigh. "She's gone," I agree. How Lightspark can feel such grief for a femme who basically abandoned her is beyond me, but I'm sure she's just as incredulous as to why I'm not mourning as well. I am mourning, but not for the femme who just died. For the sparkmother she once was. For my father, and for us.
"Firespark?"
"Yes?" I answer tenderly, stroking my sister's yellow back plating.
Her lilac optics are wide. "Did she hurt?"
"No," I lie. Better not to put her through more sorrow. "She went quietly and peacefully, without pain."
"Did she say anything?" Lightspark mumbles.
"…She told me to take care of you," I say finally. That's not really a lie, I reason, and there's no way in all of Cybertron that I'm going to tell my fragile, gentle little sister the troubling remarks Acaciah made. I hug her closer. "And I swear to you this, Lightspark. I will take care of you." I feel like my spark will burst with love and pity and worry for her. It will be hard to care for her completely on my own, especially with my career only just fledging still; but if I have to strip down to my protoform and sell my own spark to Unicron to keep my beloved sister safe, strong, and happy, then that is what I'll do.