Just to warn ya'll, the chapters from here-on out are going to bounce around a bit. Some will be after the war and some will be during, just depends on the muse. If ya'll have any suggestions for further chapters let me know in your review and I will see about maybe writing it in.

Enjoy!

Chapter 3:

The war was over. Megatron had agreed to signing a permanent peace treaty and then afterward, surprised everyone by insisting on a celebration in The Still. The Autobots had been a bit leery at first about getting over-charged with their wayward brethren, but they were choosing to put that to the side in favor of giving the peace at least one chance.

It still did not stop the entire bar from freezing when Starscream approached the table holding the Datsun trine.

It was no secret that the aerial trines had targeted the ground-bound trio with much prejudice on numerous occasions and everyone was concerned that the Winglord might attempt to finish his campaign. No one recalled why Praxus and Vos held such animosity for one another, only that a doorwinger and a seeker could not even walk by each other without at least throwing an insult.

Starscream said nothing to the Praxians, simply plunked himself down in the last available chair and stared at Prowl. The silence between them held for an interminably long time, then the Air Commander huffed. "Which of you is the Primaer?"

Prowl rose in a half-bow. "For what purpose does the Winglord wish to know?"

Starscream acknowledged the unspoken answer to his question before answering the query posed to him. "The Lord of Vos has grown tired of the hostility between our peoples. We were once one, yet now we stand divided and the treaty which Lord Megatron has signed does not effect what lies between us."

Prowl looked at the seeker with a calculating glint in his optics. "What does the Winglord propose to do about it? Considering that there are less than a score of his ground-bound cousins left to the functioning."

The verbal tennis had caught and held the attention of the whole room as they waited for the energon-shed to begin between these old mortal enemies. They prayed that whatever outcome was rendered that the peace treaty would not be permanently harmed.

"He would acknowledge that the intimacies of the offense no longer remain in his memory and extend a welcome for unconditional forgiveness on both sides." replied the seeker.

Prowl looked triumphant, and to those who knew him well, relieved also. "The Flightless Winglord would be amiable to the proposal and suggest a traditional binding."

Starscream smiled for the first time that evening and it made more than one mech swoon a bit to see how handsome it made the normally irate flyer. He raised his glass to the Praxian Lord and flicked his wings at his trine mates. The clueless mecha who inhabited the rest of the bar looked on warily, what was a 'traditional binding'?

Their collective question was soon answered when Skywarp and Thundercracker arrived to the table laden down with close to a hundred cubes of highgrade. As the seekers divvied out the cubes among the table's occupants the doorwingers scooted closer together and pulled in more chairs for the necessary seating of both trines. Once everything was arranged to the two sets' liking all of them sat down and introductions were made by the Winglords.

"My Adepto and my Vicarius." said Prowl, motioning to Smokescreen and Bluestreak respectively.

Starscream gave a short bow of his helm to welcome the two and then pointed to first Thundercracker then Skywarp. "My Adepto and my Vicarius."

Then the Seeker Lord raised a cube. "I would like to relocate Vos' tether station to Praxus' southern tip to facilitate closer communication and hopefully prevent another division."

Five cubes were raised in agreement and everyone drank.

Optimus, who was watching with great confusion, leaned over to Megatron and asked, "What are they doing?"

Megatron turned to answer discretely, however, he immediately noticed that most of the room was regarding the proceedings with similar puzzlement and he raised his voice to be heard by all. "This is a traditional reconciliation ritual used by the ancient winged mecha to solve their grievances with one another. It can only be utilized by full trines and the numbers on both sides must be equal. The use of highgrade is actually a tactical calculation as each mech equals one vote for their side and as inebriation takes out members of the negotiation, so do the power dynamics change. The leaders of each trine take turns proposing stipulations by raising a cube, if a negotiator agrees they also raise a cube and then, once every voter has weighed in, all of them drink one cube. If the trineleader falls sway to the overcharge his second takes up the role and down the hierarchy until either all the cubes are gone or all the mecha are unconscious. When the ritual is finished all of the involved will spend three orns sharing recharge quarters to cement the finality of the negotiation and ensure that both parties are willing to trust the other."

There were some in the room whose metas immediately went to lewd thoughts of how that 'recharge' might actually be spent, but the glaring of the respective mates of the involved wingers quickly nipped that in the bud. Now that the curiosity had been satisfied though, most of the partiers went back to celebrating. A few mecha however, still paid attention now and then to the private table slowly trying to drink one another under the table.

Smokescreen went under first, followed swiftly by Skywarp, and then for the longest time there was equilibrium. The stacks of cubes were more than half gone when Thundercracker slumped to the floor with his wingmate and Prowl grinned victoriously at his competitor. Starscream simply smirked back and waited, for not two cubes later the black and white was similarly indisposed. The Winglord smiled benignly at the last Praxian and Bluestreak nervously chuckled back. It was the young grey winger's turn and he had no clue what to say. He clutched his cube and glanced helplessly at his Adepto and Primaer hoping that one of them would wake up to rescue him. No such luck.

Then Starscream spoke. "You know little one, there is no dishonor in forfeit. At this point it is nearly moot anyway."

Bluestreak's wings went up in a familiar 'V' more traditionally seen on his brother and raised his cube in defiance. "There should be a council that interviews potential trinemates to ensure compatibility."

The flightless Vicarius would not shame his trine with surrender. He raised an optic ridge in pointed challenge for refusal from the Winglord. Starscream merely raised his own cube in acknowledgement of the smaller mech's courage. "Something tells me there is an important story concerning that rule that I am going to want to know later."

Bluestreak waved a doorwing in discomfort, but nodded, it would be important to know why such an extreme measure was needed. They both drank and the negotiations continued. And continued. And continued, long past when everyone else had passed into drunken stupor.

*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*

When the Autobots and Decepticons managed to rouse themselves the next morning the first question most of their still addled metas came to was, who won? The answer was provided by Red Alert, who hated drinking and had only indulged in a single cube of the twins' potent brew. The winner of the contest, victor of the negotiations, drinker with the most endurance… was Bluestreak.

The Vosian seekers gave the flustered grey mech deference for a decacycle after for outdrinking their champion.

Well, it was originally Starscream who was supposed to be the drinking winner, but Bluestreak came out of nowhere right at the end, so I went with it.

We will also be exploring the workings of the Trines further in the sequel to S.A.F., and although I forgot to mention it, this is a sequel to S.A.F. as well.

Thank you to both MissCHSparkles and for their lovely reviews. Yes I will be continuing this story as long as the muse provides, so no worries about it being marked completed anytime soon.