Thrall
By SMYGO4EVA
Everything felt wrong.
So wrong.
He was far from being the Prime he was now destined to be.
From the ornate armor that decorated his helm down to his broad shoulders, going to the Matrix of Leadership adorning his chassis in the inside.
The corridors were too narrow and the walls seemed cold and uninviting. He felt more at home in the Iacon Hall of Records, decoding the many codes of Cybertron's history.
Two doors down.
Three lefts.
Four paces.
One right.
You wouldn't be able to miss it, Halogen had told him.
Optimus felt small in front of the massive golden door. They weren't kidding when they said he wouldn't walk right pass their golden gates into the well of the AllSpark (or what seemed more like the Pit to him).
He wasn't a Prime, but Alpha Trion told to him that it was his destiny, that he was meant for great things.
Yet Optimus knew that being a Prime was becoming more like being in the thrall of fate's cruel hand.