The days had gone by in what seemed to be a blur. Once he had agreed to the bond and presented the contract with his signature, his peers were practically eating it up. It was like he had gone somewhat numb in the process of him giving up his very spark to an unknown entity. He had cleared his desk and office of his belongings and packed everything up in his small apartment. He had filed change of address papers, resigned his Senate seat, and his position of CMO.
With all the paperwork on his side completed, the shuttle was rushing him to be presented to the Prime. He was all dressed up and polished to a pristine shine and wearing some of the best looking armor money could buy, courtesy of the Media Management Department.
The outfit was comfortable and light at least. The red and white plating looked nice on him and it complimented the unique teal of his optics. It showed off his build well and accented his waist. He wore the small badges that identified him as a certified physician, surgeon, and the leading expert in x,y and z fields, (former) CMO, and (former) Senator.
"Do I have to wear these?" He asked the media manager that sat in the shuttle car with him.
She blinked at him with confusion. "Of course? They're a display of how much you've accomplished. The Prime seeing them will leave a good impression… Why wouldn't you want to wear them?"
"I got these because they would be useful in aiding other people and in improving Cybertron. Not for improving my own value," he deadpanned looking over at her.
She hummed faintly. "Well like it or not they do improve your own value. They're why you are the caste you are. The Prime is going to see them and see that you worked for your rank. Besides, aren't those accomplishments something to be proud of? Why not show off all the work you put into them? They're still important because you got them wanting to care for other people… just think of the impression they'll leave as an added bonus," She smiled at him, putting her data pad down on her lap.
Ratchet sighed softly looking out the window at the brilliant afternoon sky. He could also see that they were already pulling up past the gates, up the long driveway, and up to the large estate. Decorative hedge crystals and fountains decorated the lawn. The staircase leading up the ornate front doors was large and welcoming. The sun bounced light off of the large crystal windows. He saw a moderate amount of security on the grounds as well. An excitable young mech came into view, waiting for their arrival as the shuttle came to a stop.
"Alright, we're finally here!" The media manager said in a singsong voice as she got up and opened the door for him. "Do try and at least act happy, alright?"
Ratchet sighed, putting on a firm mask and rising up out of the car with a small forced smile.
"It is absolutely wonderful that you are here, Senator! I'm sorry, do you prefer Senator? Or perhaps Doctor? Sir?" He asked pausing his greeting.
Ratchet gave him a small smile. "Just Ratchet is preferable," he assured. "And you are?"
"Red Alert at your service! I'm the Prime's secretary. I handle his schedules, his travel, his guests, and many, many things in between," he chuckled extending a hand.
"I see," Ratchet replied with a nod taking it. "That sounds like quite the workload, I hope you at least have some time to yourself. It's unhealthy to work one's self to the struts," he hummed, testing the waters a little.
"Oh it is, but it really is my pleasure. I'm paid rather well for everything I do, and I just love planning things. The Prime is very generous when it comes to my benefits as well," he chuckled. "I really am treated quite well. I consider myself very lucky."
Ratchet couldn't quite keep the surprise off of his face. Of course he didn't expect him to outright say that he had a crappy boss, but it was surprising that he was simply just so genuine. He could be trained to sound like that, of course. "Is that so? Well I'm happy to hear that."
"Quite so," Red Alert chuckled warmly, gesturing them inside. "Come along, I'm sure he's almost ready to see you," he said, opening the doors for the two of them.
Walking in, Ratchet was greeted by further grandeur. The simple but expensive tile gleamed under the lights hanging elegantly off the ceiling. Portraits of Primes and what Ratchet could assume to be their lesser known families decorated the entrance hall before it opened into a large room with what could be described as a grand piano. Large windows lit the room up with natural lighting. Large elegantly draping curtains remained tied back..
"Stay here, Ratchet. Red Alert and I have a few things to discuss privately if that's alright."
He gave them a small nod and watched as they turned the corner and disappeared down a hallway. His optics wandered across the rest of the room taking in the rest of what he could see.
There were two grand staircases that lead to an open hallway with doors along the side of it. A massive chandelier hung from the ceiling decorated with all sorts of ornate gemstones and crystals. He turned to the piano. It was by far one of the most familiar things in the room. He found his gaze somewhat fixed on it as he thought. His family owned one growing up, and he had been taught how to play it in order to feed his intellect as a child. He didn't really remember how to read the sheet music that came with it, but he did recall a few pieces here and there…
He found himself sitting in front of the keys. Black and white pieces of ivory, smooth to the touch. Already bored he pressed a key down and the sound came expectedly. It was childish but he didn't find that he cared. He had been left unsupervised in a strange place.
He played a few more keys experimentally, before his digits began slipping over the old familiar feeling. A simple twittering melody came to mind. An old classic that he had played for his carrier over and over until he had won a little praise. It was an idle movement at first before it spiraled off into something more complicated with an accompanying harmony. He played the keys distractedly. A pretty song for a pretty bird in a pretty cage. How ironic… At least he hoped that his pretty cage would grow to be mildly comfortable…
The keys stopped coming to him as he reached the end of the end of the song. He sighed as the notes tapered into nothing. More idle meaningless melodies began to come to his hand once again.
"A Sparking Sonnet," a deep voice murmured from the stairwell. "By Stadum."
Broken from concentration and suddenly aware of how much noise he had been making he froze, a sour chord sang from under his digits. He took his hands away from the ivory keys as he turned to the voice.
A tall red and blue dexter stood at the top of the stairwell, looking down at him. His optics were a striking icy color and he wore a face mask, concealing his expression. He expected his gaze to be piercing and cold but it wasn't. It was mildly warm and fairly neutral. The way he walked down the stairs carried a form of dignity and regality. He felt a twinge of fear beginning to rise in his spark.
Ratchet tried to steel himself as the Prime walked closer. "You play beautifully, Doctor," he said.
"Thank you…" He replied back, being careful to smile a little bit. He couldn't do much about how little gratitude showed in his voice. He couldn't help but feel like a caged animal as his plating prickled. His throat seemed to tighten as he looked up at this mech. He looked so strong, he could probably effortlessly just toss him away if he wished to. It made him tense and nervous. He could really see why they wanted to toss him in here. This was terrifying in a deeper, gashing way. He's certain that if the Prime wished he could strangle Ratchet himself with those large, strong servos, and there would be little anyone would do about it.
He found himself wondering if those servos were ever going to find their way across his face. If they would become something that Ratchet feared. Primes, after all, weren't exactly known to be kind to their spouses.
Before either of them could say anything further his escort and the secretary returned excitedly chatting between them before the two of them rushed over.
"Ah, Optimus, I see that you've met Ratchet," Red Alert chirped. "We have just a few papers to get in order," he hummed, digging in a binder that he had brought from where he and the manager had disappeared off to.
Ratchet watched as the Prime signed on the appropriate lines silently before Red Alert checked over everything and stashed it back away. "Excellent! We will go off and file this appropriately. I suggest showing Ratchet the rest of the home and I'm sure the two of you have plenty to talk about while we're gone," he said as he began to walk back outside leaving Ratchet with his intended. His very intimidating intended.
The door closed and shortly after that the sound of the shuttle pulling away was heard upon the gravel. The Prime turned back to Ratchet, clearing his throat softly. "It is an honor to meet you, Doctor. I'm glad to welcome you. So…" he said putting his hands together, "what would you like to see first?"
Ratchet didn't see any point in keeping him from the truth when they were alone. He decided he would rather be beaten than lie through his denta that he was happy to be here. He dropped the pleasant neutral expression in an instant, if only to continue to hide his anxiety. "Your face would be a decent start. I don't like not being able to read it, while you attempt to flatter me," he snarked, trying to relaxing his posture.
Surprise was evident in just his optics at his sudden change in attitude, but he did disengage the mask after a moment. "Is this better?" He asked with a small smile at him. He twitched. How dare he smile at Ratchet like a child. How dare he pretend that there was anything pleasant about this for him. Stupid high born, silver spoon fed, twat.
"I want to make one thing clear," he growled lowly. "I'm here because I have no other salvageable choice. I'll play along when I'm supposed to. I'll smile and wave at people, but I'm not happy to be here, and I'm certainly not going to pretend to be. If you wanted a submissive, obedient mate to be a pretty face to coo at you and pamper you after you're done playing princely politician then you've got the wrong mech. This is your only warning; I don't go down without a fight. So if you want to sent me back and pick another pretty face be my guest."
There was a beat of silence. Ratchet was prepared to be slapped and reprimanded but the Prime didn't so much as twitch.
"I see. Well that sounds completely reasonable to me." The Prime replied. "I understand that this isn't the most ideal situation for you. I want you to know that I don't want to harm you and I wouldn't want you to pander to me in any way."
Ratchet glared at him, but kept his arms folded across his chest. What was he trying to do with this act. Why not just get it over with and show some true colors already.
"Please, call me Optimus." He said. "May I call you Ratchet?" He asked him.
The doctor eyed him before replied with a small huff. "Yes. We wouldn't want to give people the impression that you're impersonal would we?"
"Would you like to be given a tour of the estate, Ratchet?" He offered with the same pleasant smile.
He huffed faintly before muttering an agreement but kept his distance from the Prime. Optimus walked him through the home with it's ever impressive size and grandeur. He was shown the dining hall and the lounge before he was shown the kitchen. After that they took a short walk around the massive backyard with a large balcony porch complete with lounging chairs. He was taken upstairs to be shown the library, the guest rooms. He was shown the grand master bedroom accompanied by the master washroom.
"This is one of the two study areas," He said. "I cleaned this one out earlier today for you to use." He opened the door revealing a room with empty bookshelves, a clean desk, and a computer. "I hope this is alright," he said.
"It will do fine," he replied coldly, glancing around the room. He didn't like how he still couldn't read the mech. His presence caused a tight feeling in his throat and chest. It was suffocating the longer he stayed near him. "Which of those rooms is my quarters?" He asked.
"Whichever one you would like." He replied. "You can have the master if you want."
"You keep it," he snarked back, turning and storming off.
"That's fine," he replied softly as he walked. "Your belongings are being moved here and they'll be here after dinner. Will you be joining me?"
"I don't see how else I'll be able to eat," he huffed with an opticroll as he began moving back across the hallway towards the room he had claimed.
"Alright, I'll have the meal ready by sundown." He called down the hall he marched. "What would you like?"
"I don't care. Whatever. It's fine by me," He muttered slamming the door behind him and locking it.
He heard Optimus sigh faintly before hearing his soft footsteps padding away. He turned to the luxurious berth before sitting on the edge of it. It was soft and the sheets were silky. There were five large fluffy pillows propped up against the berthhead. The window lit the room with the afternoon sun as it moved slowly across the sky. Sundown was a while away. It was something. Some room to process….
Even as he looked around at the life of comfort waiting for him, he couldn't bring himself to be happy about any of it. He really was caged bird.