Part Two

The femme in lead stopped at a door and rapped on it lightly. "He is here!" she called with delight.

"Let him come," a beautiful voice called in return as the door slid open.

Dreadwing froze, surprised; the commander of these messenger-femmes was a femme as well.

He looked into the room as he stepped forward, and his optics took in the most beautiful femme that he'd even seen in his life.

She was reclining on a couch of fine copper, the sort only the richest of the nobility had, but she rose to meet Dreadwing.

Her pedes were shod in armor that was golden in color, and fine designs were etched upon that armor. Matching golden armor covered her legs from ankle to knee, but her thighs were bare, showing the fineness of their form. A chain-mail skirt, likewise golden, clung to her hips and covered her as needed, and her sides were bare and gleaming. Light armor covered her bosom, but the curves were not hidden, and the armor cut away to filigree. Her fingers and hands were golden, and her forearms were guarded with goldenness as well, but from elbow to shoulder and neck she was bare.

She held her head with all regality, and there was no mistaking that she was a princess; the crest and fins of her helm were clear about that.

Dreadwing dropped to a knee and bowed low before her. He knew not who she was, but he knew that she was to be respected and honored.

"Bow not before me, esteemed warrior," she said lightly, "Though I like you all the better for it. Come and sit with me. I have much to tell you."

Dreadwing rose and glanced at his three escorts. They smiled, optics twinkling happily, and he realized then they were lightly armored. One waved him on eagerly, and then they hurried from the room as he went toward their commander.

"What have you to tell me?" he asked, stopping before her.

She took his hands in her golden ones and kissed them lightly; the kiss was like the most pleasant breeze of Spring-time.

"You, Dreadwing, are my love," she said, and she smiled gently at his astonishment.

"How so?" he asked. "We have never met."

"You have never met me, true, but I have long known you," she explained. "Will you not sit?"

He hesitated, but she tenderly pulled his fingers. "Come, my Dear-Wing," she coaxed, and he found that he could not resist. He sat down, and she sat near; so near was she that he could smell the sweet metallic scent of her armor.

"Your spark is heavy with sorrow, my warrior, and that makes me sad," she said, tenderly placing her hand over his spark. "I came to comfort you and lighten your burden.

"For a long time I have watched you, even watched over you. I felt your victories and your defeats; I saw how you bore both. I learned that you were noble and honorable. No Decepticon has been as noble as you, O Dreadwing. You have won my spark with your honor and virtue. When I saw you so grieved this day, I could no longer bear to watch from the sidelines; I had to come to you, comfort you, console you."

Dreadwing frowned, trying to make sense of this.

She touched his mouth with her fingers gently, running them over his jaw then. "Frown no longer, my warrior. I have requested, and the word has been given; your brother sleeps in peace. Starscream's end of him has been thwarted by my power. You need not sorrow so much."

She spoke kindly and sincerely, and Dreadwing could not help but feel that she spoke the truth.

"Starscream's wrong of you has been nullified," she stated. "You may rest from that. Megatron's wrong of you, is yet to be tended."

"Megatron has wronged me in no way," Dreadwing said firmly. He knew this was not true; he knew he was mistreated and discounted every day, but he would allow no one to speak ill of his master.

She smiled at his words. "O, my loyal Dreadwing, steadfast to Megatron as you are, you will never let a word cross him. He does not bless your loyalty, though. You must speak the truth."

Dreadwing bowed his head. "I am his Second-in-Command. I ask for nothing more than to serve him as such."

She lifted his chin with delicate finger and kissed him sweetly. "How I love you," she said once her kiss was over. "There is none more loyal or duty-bound than you among the mortals." She sighed. "Despite his harshness to you, you remain his."

Dreadwing kept his mouth closed, but he longed for another kiss. The last one had been like the finest sweet oil on Cybertron.

"Such a mech is to be rewarded, not slighted," she said.

"I will say nothing against my leader and lord," Dreadwing told her firmly.

"That is one reason why I love you so."

Dreadwing gazed at her curiously. The corners of her mouth lifted up in a smile.

"I left my lands to come to you, my warrior," she said, "More than anything, I love you. Do you doubt me?"

Dreadwing looked full into her violet optics. "I could never doubt you."

She smiled. "Could you return my love?" she asked next.

Dreadwing hesitated, amazed at such a question, astonished by such fortune, and apprehensive of the implications its answer might have.

She drew near and kissed his mouth. He returned the kiss deeply, drinking in the sweetness of her lips. She purred softly as she drew back. "You fear that you could not be loyal to both Megatron and me, is that it?" she asked after a moment.

"As delighting and enchanting as I find you, I cannot break my oath to Lord Megatron. You have noted yourself that I am loyal to him."

"I do not ask you to abandon Megatron," she said, rubbing his neck softly. "I require nothing of you except that you tell no one about me. Everything connected to me must be kept a secret."

Dreadwing considered this as he looked her over. If he would tell no one, they could be lovers. She would be his, and he could confide in her.

"How long with you ponder this, my warrior?" She asked, "Am I not lovely enough?" she teased lightly.

"There is none more lovely in all the cosmos," Dreadwing told her sincerely. "I shall tell no one of you." He promised, daring to touch her hand.

"I am yours then," she replied, moving closer. "Every bit of me," she added in a whisper. "Take what you like."

Dreadwing purred and pulled her onto his lap, into his arms, to kiss her neck. Her sides felt silky and delightful under his hands. He slipped a hand down to caress her bare thigh and draw her closer to him as she hugged him in return and purred to him. His lips found their way to her shoulder.

"Take what you like," she whispered again.