This chapter in my livejournal or tumblr has a picture a friend drew for me o3o
Transformers belongs to Hasbro
There were no other bots his age at the Primus's Home for Blessed Mechs orphanage. The only bots there were very small sparklings, and a few sparklings capable of speaking a few words and toddling around on their tiny, unstable legs.
He was the only bot old enough to know who and what he was. The only bot old enough to understand what he had lost. What he had never really had.
Megatron had been just like the other sparklings-very young when he'd been brought to the Primus Home, but unlike the other sparklings, who were never here longer than a stellar cycle, Megatron had never been adopted. Countless mechs and femmes had come and gone, and one of Megatron's earliest memories is of being held by a femme who dropped him after his pointed armor gouged her lightly armored forearms. He remembers that the floor had hurt when he'd hit it, but when the bots who worked at the Home had come to help, they hadn't found any dents on him.
He knows he is . . . different than most of the sparklings here. They are, for the most part, very small. Delicate. Fragile. Their armor is thin, and in several cases, thin enough that casual touching can dent it. They are smooth-even the bots with edges that will some sol end up sharp are smooth now, rounded in the way that only sparklings can be for those model types.
Megatron knows because he uses the console in the Home to research things. He doesn't always understand the files, but he knows more than most. Knows more than he probably should.
He sits in the courtyard behind the Home, not wanting to sit in front, because bots stop and stare at him, wondering why such an old sparkling is hanging around. Megatron digs his clawed toes into the pavement-a smooth concrete blend that should defy any marking from even adult peds-and watches it crumble. He leaves four sharp grooves in it, and then gently brushes the crumbling bits back into the grooves to hide the evidence. He's been told not to damage the ground out here.
At least he has fingers, and not claws, like most of the sparklings do. He can handle things without scratching them. In fact, the caretakers have him hold the fussiest, meanest sparklings-the ones that scratch and bite-because they know he won't hurt them, and they can't hurt him. The sparklings are nice, even if he resents the fact that they'll be gone. Resents the fact that they don't understand him and don't have the circuits to talk to him.
Megatron sighs, venting slowly. He's too pointy. Too sharp. His armor is too hard, and to top it all off, he's a high-maintenance flier model. A flier model who has barely mastered the art of turning his thruster heels on. He can fold into his space flight mode and hover a tiny bit off the ground, but slag if he can figure out how to do anything else.
He's not supposed to know curse words either, but he's heard plenty of them over the vorns.
He's about to go into full-blown moping when one of the caretakers steps out of the back door, "There you are, Megatron. The Allspark High Priestess has come visiting this sol, and I will not allow you to shame us by misbehaving. She wants to see every bot, and you certainly count in that. Much more than the other sparklings, in fact."
Which is very true. He doesn't like how this priestess has taken to adopting sparkling just to train into consorts, though. He read that the other High Priestesses before this one never did that. He's just old enough to know what consorts do; even if he isn't sure how they do the things they're supposed to do it. He doesn't really want the priestess touching him, either. The thought of it makes him uncomfortable.
He is pulled to the end of the line of sparklings, but just before the line of the caretakers. He blinks over at the adults, slightly nervous. When the caretaker said every bot, he wasn't kidding. The priestess must really want a new consort or three for some reason. He knows it has something to do with energy and going crazy, but his reading was never clear about what that meant.
It... it didn't fill him with confidence.
The High Priestess enters, and his spark. . does something weird in his chest. The Priestess's optics lock on his for a moment and his spark does the weird thing again, right up until her optics slide away. She's an imposing femme, and Megatron wants to hide behind one of the caretakers while she's busy leaning in to look at the sparklings lying in their cribs. Her paint is angry shades of orange and blue, and she's so much bigger than Megatron is, and that's saying something. He's already a large sparkling, and he keeps growing a little each stellar cycle.
Each sparkling gets picked up, and turned from side to side as the Priestess examines them, before they get gently placed back into their little berths. One of the older ones tries to grab her headfin, and she moves out of his reach, tapping him on the nose with one femme claw. "No, no, little bot. You do not touch the High Priestess that way."
He really doesn't think he likes the priestess now. The sparkling she had patronized was one of the better behaved ones Megatron had to deal with. He expected the little cyclebot to be adopted on the next showing day.
The ring of bots moves around her, scanning for danger. He's not sure what danger there would be here. This is a good orphanage. He actually gets a mix of sparkling and normal energon. Most places would only give him sparkling. The caretakers understand that he's a flier that needs more fuel than normal sparklings. The guards around the priestess give his cannon a distrustful look, and he moves a bit to put it behind him. It was a present, and is supposed to grow with him if he fuels properly. He can't even get it to fire yet. He's just not old enough.
If it gets taken from him by the Priestess, as is sometimes known to happen, he isn't going to be happy. It is all he has of his creators, and he keeps it safely with him at all times.
When the Priestess stops in front of him, Megatron keeps his optics fixed on the ground. He knows his blue optics startle some bots, and she wouldn't have had a good look from across the room before. Claws grip his chin, between the points of his helmet armor, and tip his face up. She gasps, and takes a startled step back, her blue paint flaring up brightly. "You-" the guards edge in on them, and she waves them back with one servo. "You are . . ," her paint flares again, and this time her optics burn a bright, solid blue, and her frame relaxes. When she speaks again, her voice is . . . different.
"You are Megatron." The sound is rich, resonant, and it makes his spark tingle. "You will be warrior-mate to my daughter. You will protect her, with the skills you have been granted, and those you will obtain. You will be her First, and the bond you will share will be the most blessed I will ever create." The blue light fades, and the priestess slumps down, her fall stopped by a pair of guardbots who carefully support her weight.
He has no clue what that means, and he really doesn't like the look of one of the guards as he's pulled over. He tries to fight the bot's grip, but he is only a decavorn old, not nearly old enough to escape a full-grown bot's hold. The bot smiles down at him, and he can't tell if he should be happy at the expression or not. His spark is fluttering like a swarm of crystalflies in his chest, and he doesn't know what to do. The bot touches his helmet, testing the sharpness, and grinning when the servo comes away dripping energon. "Well, warrior-mate, it is. You will be able to protect her when you're older. Won't even need us, I suppose."
The priestess gets up shakily, but a triumphant grin is on her face. "I told you! I knew what I was doing, refusing a consort so long! The Allspark itself approves of it! He will be my first! I just need to wait until he's old enough! The Allspark will keep me safe as I wait!"
"Yes, Priestess," the guards reassure her, rubbing gentle servos over her frame. The bot holding Megatron smiles widely, "He will be an excellent consort for you when he's grown." The guards exchange a quick look, "But perhaps you will consent to sharing your energy with another until he is old enough? He still has many vorns before you can claim him."
She shakes her head, "No. No. The Allspark has spoken, and I will not disobey it. He will be my First, and we shall train him into a proper consort." She eyes his pointed armor with something like distaste. "He may be a warrior, but he does not need to be so . . . sharp. I am sure we will find a way to smooth him out a bit." She claps her servos together and turns to the caretakers. "We will be taking him with us."
He wonders if they'll be able to make him softer. All the attempts by him or the creators just ended with him sharper than ever. He's considering saying it when the top caretaker steps forward slowly, "O-of course, Priestess. We just need you to fill out the forms, and we ca-"
She glares at the old mech, a kindly bot that always tries to make time for Megatron when possible, "No. I'm the Allspark High Priestess. I don't need to fill out forms to get my first consort."
One of the guards steps forward, a single servo on her shoulder, "He just means that someone needs to fill out the forms. I'll do it for you, Priestess. You don't need to worry about it. How about you go with..." The bot looks at him for a moment, "Megatron to his room and see what he has? I'm sure he wants his things packed up, and you can talk to him about what he's expected to do. Just realize he's only about fifteen vorns old, and a flier model. They age slower than the rest of us."
Megatron is pretty sure that if he lets the bot know he overestimated his age he is going to be the one in trouble, not the guards, so he says softly, "Ten vorns. I'm ten vorns old."
The bots blink at him in shock. "Only ten vorns?" one guard whispers, glancing at his Priestess. "When do flying models get old enough for bonds?"
The Priestess lifts a servo again, silencing them. "The Allspark will protect me until he is ready to bond to me." She holds out her servo to him with a smile. "Hello, Megatron. I'm Shimmerfire. You are very lucky. You are going to become First Consort to the Allspark High Priestess."
He stares at her servo, and does not take it. Her smile grows strained, and Megatron leans away from her. "I do not want to be a consort. I want to work in the Pyrovar Guard like my creators did."
She grabs his wrist and drags him out of the room, lowering her voice so not even her guards will hear her, "You will show me the respect I deserve. You have been granted an enormous blessing, Megatron. Do not shame yourself."
He isn't sure how he's shaming himself, but nods reluctantly. "Yes, Shimmerfire."
She gives him a sharp look, "You will only call me that when we are not in public. Where anyone other than our guards can see us, you will only refer to me as Priestess. You will be given the privilege of saying 'my priestess,' but that is only because you are to be my first consort in ten vorns." She looks slightly nervous, then her optics flash with determination, "And the Allspark will protect me during my wait for you."
He really has no clue what that means. He wishes he knew why she'd need protecting when she has all those large guards. Maybe it has to do with the craziness thing? He doesn't know. "Yes," his voice goes soft and cautious, "... my priestess...?"
She smiles, "Yes, Megatron. Your priestess." Her servo is gentle on his shoulder, "Let's go see your room."
There's not much in his room to show her, but if she wants to see it, he'll show it to her. He's only got a berth, a small, well-worn desk, and a small chest full of old toys. A few broken figurines and a set of blocks too complicated for the younger sparklings to play with. They'd all been donated to the Home by various bots.
He's not sure she's going to want to see a reminder of how young he is.
Megatron had never been more than a short distance away from the Home. Once or twice, he'd helped take a sparkling to the medics, and he was occasionally allowed to go to the park that was a few blocks away, if it was unlikely that other sparklings would be playing there. He was too 'dangerous' to roughhouse with other sparklings.
So it is understandable that when he's taken to the Priestess's ship, he spends the entire first megacycle of the trip with his face pressed up close to one of the windows, watching his planet shrink away in the distance.
Shimmerfire is standing next to him the entire time, looking at him curiously. He's thankful she doesn't pull him away until Pyrovar is just a tiny dot in the distance, even when he magnifies his vision several hundred times. Her claws tap on his shoulder, "It is always awe inspiring when you see your home planet shrink away." She kneels down next to him, smiling softly, "Would you like to come get some energon sweets with me? I am particularly fond of ones with oil shale. What about you?"
He shifts a little nervously, "I've only ever had normal energon candy." The caretakers sometimes had more energon left over, and it was sometimes made into energon candy for all the sparklings. It was a rare treat, once every fifteen or twenty stellar cycles, but all the more delicious because of it. Even if he had to share his piece with several other sparklings.
She smiles softly at him, "That's fine." She returns to her full height, servo being held out to him, "I'll let you test various types and you can tell me your favorite. How does that sound?"
"It sounds fine." He takes her servo this time, so she won't drag him, and walks beside her down the hallway. "This is a really big ship. Are all ships this large, or just yours?" He's seen lots of ships in the file's he's read, but there's a difference from seeing a picture and actually being in one.
Shimmerfire laughs, "I am the High Priestess. I have one of the nicest ships available. Come now. I want you to visit the medic. We need to make sure you're nice and healthy. Have you ever been to a medic before?"
Megatron scowls. Of course he has. He's not a freshly sparked sparkling or something. "Yes. They scanned me and told me that I was unusual because of my armor and the fact that I have never had a sparkling virus."
She gives him a slightly smug look, and he is just about to glare at her when she presses a kiss to his forehead. He gives her a horrified look, unused to contact, much less anything so intimate, and she smiles at him. "That just means you are blessed, Megatron. You have the pretty blue optics of a bot touched by the Allspark. Not the plain blue that other bots have, but the shining swirl of crackling charge." She pulls him along slowly, "You are to be my consort in a decavorn, and I will be happy to have you then, my Megatron."
He wishes he knew what was going on. "My creators had red optics." He knows that because of a hologram he has of them both that he keeps carefully tucked in his subspace. He would have set it up here, but he hadn't been given a room yet.
She smiles down at him, her optics matching his own in hue, "That just means you are doubly blessed, Megatron. They must have loved you very much."
"They did." He touches his fusion cannon. "They gave me this. And-" and he has a gear from each of them in his frame, to remember them by, even if he didn't ever get to really know them. He has only the vaguest, most sparkling-form memories of him. Feelings of love, and comfort, and the warmth of a spark. The rest of what he knows, he was told about them. "They were very good warriors. And very important femmes. They both had leadership positions in their battalions." He wants to lead just like they did. They gave him a warrior's name, and a strong weapon, and he was going to make them proud.
The priestess tilts her head thoughtfully, "Your creators are femmes?" He nods slowly, and she pets his helmet, "You are adorable enough for it. You will grow into your looks, of that I'm certain."
Something about that comment makes him uncomfortable, and he's not sure what it is. "Th-thank you?"
She continues to lead him along, "You will be trained into a proper warrior, and I will make sure you uphold your creators' legacy. You will know how to keep me safe."
This is a much better topic for him, he smiles brightly, "I like keeping bots safe! I make sure the other sparklings are okay."
She leads him into a brightly lit room, with berths around it, "You will be keeping me safe, my Megatron." She pats the medical berth as he looks like he's about to protest. "Later, though. Right now you must be scanned by the medic so I know you are safe."
The medic looks a lot like the guardbots do, with weird blue swirls of paint on him all over the place. He stops in front of them, and crosses his arms over his chest. "This is a sparkling, Shimmerfire. Why the frag are you dragging a sparkling back here?"
Shimmerfire smiles widely, "The Allspark itself made a prophecy! It said that Megatron would be my First Consort. I want you to scan him and make sure he's healthy and developing properly. I don't want to have to wait more than the ten vorns I will have to for him to hit puberty."
Unimpressed, the medic taps his ped on the ground and then vents a sigh, "You need to bond sooner than that, Shimmer. You know what's going to happen to you if you don't."
She stamps a ped on the ground, "No! The Allspark made a prophecy! I'll be safe! I don't need a consort until Megatron is old enough! The Allspark will keep me safe, and I will be just fine."
The medic gives Megatron a flat look, "I'd tell you to tell her she's being unreasonable, but you most likely are only going along with this because she's demanding it." He isn't sure if he's supposed to nod or not, but he keeps an optic on Shimmerfire, unwilling to let her get angry at him again. Something about her set him on edge. She was dangerous, and he didn't know how. The medic sighs, "But, yes, I'll scan him. I don't expect much, though. He's clearly Allspark blessed."
She beams, "He is! He's got the special optics and everything!" She pauses, looking closely at Megatron's armor, "Do you know how to make him not so ... pointy? I want him to recharge with me."
Strong servos tug on his armor, and the medic scoffs, "He's Allspark blessed. If you want, I'll try and smooth these out a bit. Maybe file them down. I'll be surprised if it does much of anything. Probably just waste a good file." He pops a panel open on Megatron's arm and hooks up a cable-one of the special small ones designed to fit in sparkling ports-so he can scan him.
Megatron doesn't like being scanned. It makes his processor feel squirmy, like someone is poking around inside of his circuits.
The medic hums to himself, and then frowns at that pad. "No signs of viral infections-ever. Some minor damage from falling, and a few joints out of alignment. He's also malnourished. Should be quite a bit larger than he currently is."
Shimmerfire blinks in surprise, and then asks in a small voice, "Bigger? But he's already so tall. We had thought he was older than he is."
He doesn't think he's that big. Shimmerfire towers over him, just like the guards. The medic seems to read his mind and smiles at him, "That's only because we're full grown, little bot. You'll be much larger in a decavorn, and shoot up even more when puberty passes." The bot turns back to the priestess, "I bet you were planning on feeding him energon candy, weren't you?"
She shuffles her peds nervously, "I, uh... I... well." She looks away. "Yes. I just... I want him to tell me what his favorite is."
The medic sighs, "You can indulge him this sol," she squeals happily, and the bot talks louder, "but you will need to stick to a strict diet for him after. We want him healthy, and filling him up on that slag you call candy isn't going to help him. Oil shale isn't good for growing bots."
"I had plenty of it when I was young, and it didn't stunt my growth," Shimmerfire spins in a circle, showing off her well-shaped spoiler-winglets. Megatron thinks they're kinda cute.
Still doesn't want to be her consort.
When the medic offers him a cube of energon, Megatron takes it, and sips slowly from it, only to jerk away in disgust. "What is this slag?"
Shimmerfire gasps, and then cuffs the side of his helmet, "Don't use that word!"
He rubs the sore spot and glares at her. "The medic did."
She cuffs the side of the medic's helmet too, "Bad Splint. Don't use words like that in front of sparklings. Do you need to go back to medic school?"
"Frag off, kid. Both of you." He pushes the cube back into Megatron's servos. "You drink this because you're malnourished and missing a good half of the nutrients you need to stay healthy. You don't drink it, and you'll collapse at some point a few stellars from now, and then you'll get to spend a long time in the medbay." The bot gives him an unpleasant look, "With me."
Shimmerfire puts her servos on her hips, stomping her peds, "Don't frighten him."
He looks at the floor, "I wasn't scared." He isn't, and he isn't sure why the priestess would think being threatened with that would scare him.
She tugs him off the berth, cuddling him as she looks up at Splint, "If he drinks all of that horrible energon, can he eat candy with me every sol?"
The mech groans, "You shouldn't be eating all that slagging candy either. You need to let your frame balance out of the energy, and more isn't going to help you. I'm seriously thinking about putting you on a special blend of sparkling energon. Especially since you just informed me you're not bonding for a decavorn."
"Megatron is my first. The Allspark said so." She kisses his temple again. "I can wait for him. And the decavorn will give him enough time to be properly trained as a consort. I want to have the best consort ever." She waves a servo, "And the guards will teach him to fight. He'll be perfect." She grins at Splint, "If I really need to share energy, I can do it with some cables or something. Like you can transfer energy with a sparkling." She claps her servos, "Ooh, or I can bless things. Bless lots of things."
The medic just gives her a sad look, "Right." The bot waves at the door, "Have him finish that cube, and you can let him try the energon candy. When you find out his favorite, you can tell me what it is, and I'll tell you the amount he's allowed."
Shimmerfire nods quickly, taking Megatron's servo and leading him away. "That went really well!" She squeezes his servo reassuringly. "Wanna know a secret?"
He shifts a little bit, unsure if he should accept, but nods; "If you want to tell me, Shimmerfire."
She beams at him, "I'm the sixth priestess Splint has worked with." She looks down at him, suddenly shy, "I think I'm going to last longer than the other ones, though. Since I have you. Allspark wouldn't say something like that, and not mean me. You're going to be my consort, and we're going to be the best ones ever."
"Will I be going to school to learn about it?" He's read that it's normal for sparklings to go to school. The Home couldn't afford to send him, but they at least had datapads for him to learn from.
A bright laugh answers him, "Oh, Megatron. Of course you won't. You're going to be the consort to the High Priestess of the Allspark. You won't be attending classes with other bots." She pats his shoulder, "You're going to get private tutoring, and lots of lessons in fighting. You'll be the best warrior ever."
Megatron wants that very badly. He wants to make his creators proud of him, and as much as he loves taking care of sparklings, part of him has always craved something more. His fusion canon is just itching to have an adult unlock it and allow him to start shooting.
He is lead to an extravagant room that is easily larger than the entire main hall of the orphanage, and she smiles down at him, "This is my room, my Megatron. When we get to Cybertron, you will be getting your own room, but for now you will stay with me here."
He nods slowly, looking around in awe, "Will I be getting a room like this one?"
She giggles softly, behind her servo, and tugs him gently to the couch, "If you want, yes. I was thinking something better, since you will be my consort, and deserve the best." She frowns, "Before your training begins in earnest, and you have to strip down to essentials so my guards think you're being trained properly."
He sits down cautiously, since the couch is a metal mesh that can easily be cut apart with his frame. "What do you mean?"
She flops down, and tugs him so he's leaning against her. He freezes in fear, unused to touch, and she just pets him softy, avoiding his sharp edges. "You will be expected to learn how to work in any condition if you are going to be the best warrior. And I will not have anything but the best for you, my First."
"They want to teach me to fight in protoform?" Megatron hates being in protoform. He feels small and cold and helpless. But even his protoform is stronger than most bots'. He also feels . . . naked without his armor on. Exposed and terribly bare.
She giggles, "Yes. But don't worry, sparkling. I won't peek. Not even when you're older." She bites her lip, trying to stop her smile, "Okay. Maybe when you're older. But by then, you should be trying to peek right back at me, so we'll be even."
He doesn't want to see her in protoform. That's just . . weird. He doesn't understand why anyone wants to see a bot in protoform, other than medics, so they can poke at it and ask you loudly how you tangled your wires like that.
He shifts uncomfortably in her arms, and is wondering what to say when she moves a tiny bit, and smiles, "I'm going to get you used to being touched, my Megatron." She sits up, one arm still on his shoulders, and pulls out a large box from her subspace. "But we can do that as we try the types of candy."
He gives her a nervous look, and nods cautiously, "Okay?"
Shimmerfire opens the box, laying it across her lap, "What would you like to start with? Splint said not to give you oil shale, so you can try it after you get over your malnutrition." She picks up a purple one that looks faintly inedible, "Try this one. It has blue cora, and is said to make you heal faster. Splint can't yell at me for giving it to you."
He takes it from her and pops it in his mouth before he can rethink it, and is pleasantly surprised by the flavor. It melts on his glossa all smooth and sweet, without the bitter flavor that the homemade energon candies usually have. He offlines his optics to enjoy it better, making it last as long as possible. When he onlines his optics again, Shimmerfire is smiling at him.
"Did you like that?" She holds out another piece. "We've got lots to try."
Megatron wants more, but he's been told so many times that too many candies will make him purge his tank. "It was very good. But I'm full. And I still have to drink the energon."
She smiles at him, "Well, drink it, and we can eat the candies together, okay? I can't eat them all, and I want to share them with you."
He takes a sip of the energon cube he'd shoved in his subspace, and makes a face, "Yes, Priestess."
She wraps her arms around him in a hug, "You can keep calling me by my name. Priestess is for public. No one calls me by my name anymore, aside from Splint. I'd like it if you would. And call me your priestess in public. You're the only one that gets to claim me, and you should."
He doesn't even know what that means. "Okay, Shimmerfire. Thank you for the candy." He wishes he'd saved it for after this cube, because medical energon tastes like dirt and old fuel all mixed together with a special medicinal bitter aftertaste that makes him want to autoclave his glossa.
Shimmerfire watches him, and takes the cube from his servos, taking a sip for herself. Her faceplates wrinkle with disgust. "Oh, ugh, this is disgusting." She pulls out a couple packets of powder and pours them in, stirring them with a rust stick that slowly dissolves into the energon. "There. Ought to taste less like rotting slag now."
He gives her a nervous look, "Are you sure I'm su-" She pushes it gently in his servos, "Drink it, my Megatron. And when you're done, we can have more candy."
He nods slowly, bringing it to his mouth and tasting it. It still is kinda gross, but now it doesn't taste like dirt or old fuel. There's still the medical flavor, but it is toned down with the sweet of the rust stick. It went from tank churning to edible. He drinks it slowly, having learned that rushing through a cube just makes you look greedy, and he knows he should be grateful for every bit he has.
She pets his helmet the entire time, watching him thoughtfully. "Would you like to watch cartoons with me?"
They don't have a vidscreen at the Home, and he's only been allowed to watch a few things on the console. Excitement bubbles up inside him, and he nods, trying to reign in the enthusiasm. "You get cartoons on your ship?"
Picking up the remote, the Priestess turns on a massive vidscreen, and clicks through the channels until she finds a brightly colored sparkling show. "Of course we do. If you're flying around a planet with a pretty big gravity well, the signals can sometimes get a few kliks behind, but we still get them."
He smiles, letting her tug him against her, and they settle in to watch. Shimmerfire feeding him candy as they do.
Please Review
Yes, new fic :3 It had three votes, while the Sari one only had one vote. The Sari one will possibly be the one I upload after this, but it really depends on what else I have edited and how you guys vote :V
And, like I said up top, this chapter has an illustration for it. You can find it in the chapter on livejournal or tumblr. If you need to know where that is, go to my profile. The livejournal is in my homepage link, and have a link to my tumblr in my main writing on my profile.