Okay, to explain to everyone before we begin: This fic is based on my AU where Megatron and Galvatron are two separate mechs who fall in love with each other and my take on how the Great War may have started because of it.
Anyway disclaimer: I do not own Transformers G1, it belongs to Hasbro. T-T
Enjoy!
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Prologue
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Present day, Cybertron
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It was dark here in the ruins. So dark, that not even the brightest lantern could have illuminated through it. Yet, he could see the dimly lit red optics, of two of his soldiers, who refused to go into recharge within the debris of what was once Crystal City.
He himself could not recharge. Not when at any moment, an explosive could land in their hiding spot, and blow them all into the black oblivion of death.
Autobots were still on Cybertron, still continuing the war.
They needed to get to Dark mount, soon.
There was a sudden flash of white that shone, and for the slightest moment, the mechs were completely visible, when a beacon of white flame shined like a fallen star had descended from the heavens and landed on their planet.
Galvatron looked in the direction, the white outshining his violet armor, but it could not last long enough to outshine the darkness. His face plates were weary from age and the horrors of the war he had been snatched up into. The three regal crests on his helm were scratched, and slightly dented from years of fighting.
He could barely remember the last time he hadn't been fighting in this place, and when he even tried, all that came to mind was the Cybertron before this and even that was too distant a memory to appear. But one thing that came clearly to him was the one mech he had joined this war for. He remembered so much: a flash of silver, a smile with two little fangs on the top row of his denta, the crimson optics that shown like a raging inferno in the heat of enraged battle, or with unbridled lust, a soft chuckle from a charismatic voice, and handsome, chiseled face plates of a leader and a fighter.
He reached up and touched the insignia he wore on his chest plates, his optics dimming darker, and darker.
It's been so long….so very long….
A sense of nostalgia filled his spark, as he remembered everything before the war, so far into the past, but still not far enough to forget. Galvatron could not forget, and would not let himself forget.
He may be a warrior, he may be a mad animal in the midst of battle, he may be considered an insane general amongst the Autobots and a few of his own men, but none of that mattered anymore. Not with his spark aching and broken.
Not when his mate was gone forever, lost in the universe, most likely dead, never to return.
Never to return….
He tilted his helm back, and breathed a heavy sigh. His leader. His fighter. His lover. His mate. The light in his existence, and the hope for all the Decepticons future.
The named slipped past his lips, "Megatron…."
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Earth, Present day
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Megatron ran his fingers over the soft silk sash the color of crimson. He traced the designs, and the purple clasp at the top of it, with the insignia that once bore as the symbol that only the Lord High Protector wore.
He remembered the day he was given this sash: it was a gift, since many of the generals wore sashes like this to the higher-classes gatherings, during the Golden age of Cybertron, though he truly saw no point in ever going to those.
He cherished the sash. It held a ling to his past, wrapped in its silken comfort, yet those memories were still so painful.
Outside this room, he was the fearless, emotionless, bloodthirsty leader of the Decepticons. But only to the men who never truly knew him. Those who knew him, who were there when this started, understood and saw past his mask.
In here, all walls broke and he took a moment to travel through his past, by taking out things, he held dear before the war, as well as the sash. He had beautiful crystal, blue rose, one of the rarest plants, found in the most expensive of gardens, a dagger with an electrum handle, made of the purest steel.
He held the dagger and rose to his chest, over his spark, the sash pressed to his cheek, as he remember the mech who had given him these precious things that he cherished so, because of all their links to the past. He allowed a single tear to slip past his off-lined optics.
This was his get away from his men, from his crushing requirements and obligations as leader, this was where he pulled himself together, when he's about to break, THIS was where he could feel safe and remember everything he held dear to him. That was once held dear to him.
It was no more….
He hissed, "Galvatron…may Primus be with you…" he shook slightly with the pent up pain he's held back for centuries.
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