How Fare the Gods?
by SMYGO4EVA

For as long as she had existed, Quintessa knew that the cosmos rightfully belonged to them now, every planet, their inhabitants, and every facet of their being.

Cybertron was dying. It was one such planet, and one she so despised. It was one all too familiar, too shattered, and too broken.

It was so close to the Autobot Optimus Prime.

Quintessa needed his obedience, his loyalty, those which he wasn't so willing to give to her. Once she held his chin, her eyes boring into his fragmented, exhausted optics, she seized him in her grasp, being as tender as can be in such phantom moments of calm.

She knew she will bend him to her will. Soon enough, he would be rightfully hers. Optimus would rebuke her calculated touches all he wanted, but he was only delaying the inevitable. He was a resilient leader and steadfast warrior, his presence and reputation known across the galaxy. Too much for her liking; she would leash him in her bidding.

Defy all he wanted, he was the one capable and culpable enough to claim what was hers. With his sheer might, any enemy foolish enough to stand against him would perish by his hand, by her hand.

Soon, her touch could reel his very core, wreck him, and claim him for her pleasure.

"I made you. You're mine to command."

There wasn't any room in the entire galaxy for anything as weak or precious as honor, not even in the ongoing war. The constant rumbling from such a conflict was proof enough, heard throughout the cosmos.

Optimus Prime had fallen from what goodness he thought he possessed, for the greater good. She knew that, and he knew only too well. How the gods fared as his optics dissolved from the iridescent blue to the red-purple of her own design, too close to the morass of his world, too far from the reality he held for his allies and himself.

Yes, he was perfect.

Only Quintessa would reignite such potential for obliteration by his own will, what she knew he was capable of.