So…this did at one point have a plan. Now it doesn't and I'm not even sure it makes sense. Also it's not as light-hearted as it was supposed to be. And the ending is crap.
Bugger.
Not All Who Wander Are Lost
2. Megatron
"You could have been so wonderful, you know that?"
The air in the room was still and undisturbed by the being who lingered in the soft glow of the monitors, watching the spark-beat of the patient on the berth gently rise and fall on the screens as though considering a vaguely interesting artwork. The dust, trodden in from the harsh battlegrounds lying outside the falsely peaceful walls, was still scattered across the ground in the aftermath of the panic that gripped the occupants.
The being who even now still lingered in the room, long after even the most loyal had vanished to follow their new leader, pushed off from the wall and walked over to the prone silver form upon the berth. The dust did not move beneath his pedes.
"You could have been so much more than this."
Primus spoke softly, as though speaking to a peacefully slumbering child. His voice was a mere whisper of an existence, racked with pain and a deep, impenetrable sadness.
"You had so many paths." He said, sitting upon the berth and gently stroking the patient's cheek-plating. "The threads of your life were so complex and tightly woven into each other that I often had trouble picking them apart. Prima thought that was funny about you. He would spend forever watching the threads growing and joining. It was…soothing."
Primus' gaze fell to the heavy damage littering the large silver frame. His entire form seemed to sag under an impossible weight.
"You blamed me sometimes. I heard you." He said, "When they took out their frustrations on you, you would blame me for it. You would scream at me in your head, and oh how I listened. If only you knew we were there, every single time. We watched every punch, every kick, and we cried. We cried so hard The AllSpark joined in our mourning. Oh, forgive me my lonely little spark, forgive us for our inaction, and forgive me for the crimes I allowed you to suffer."
There was a small pause, in which Primus resumed stroking the dented cheek plating.
"It's funny. Here I am asking for your forgiveness, when I already know I am undeserving of it. Your suffering was all my doing; though please know it was not intentional. People think we so-called deities are completely untouchable. We are not. We are powerful, yes…but there is always something more powerful out there. I crossed them, and they made sure I would never cross them again."
Primus smiled sadly, optics dimming in pain.
"They made you my torture."
A shadow passed over his entire form.
"For what better way is there to break a Creator than to break their Creations, right in front of their eyes?" Primus asked, the terrible darkness deepening.
The tension snapped as something large exploded far in the distance, a muffled sound that shot through the quiet bliss of the room like a bullet. Primus winced, steadying himself upon the berth with one hand before sitting back up and staring down at the form beneath him.
"It really hurts when that happens. I hope you know that." The words held no accusation, offered no bite. "I know it's not your fault, please do not think I'm blaming you. You could not have known the way your life would lead, or the destruction this particular path would cause."
Footsteps echoed in the hallway beyond the room. They walked by the door, pausing only for a few moments, before carrying on. Primus sighed, a sound that was far too tired.
"It seems strange to say, but if anything…this path was the one I expected you to take. You were always destined for this madness. No matter your upbringing, I think everything would have been the same. If you had been raised under the banner of a titled family, or in the small, cosy household of an archivist…you would still have gone down this path. You are like that. Different, that is, different and clever. You're a lot like your brother, Megatron."
Silence fell in the room, and Primus hung his head. He was exhausted, the agony of the war ripped through his very being with every micro-second that crawled by. There was little time left now. Soon it would be time to sleep, and he was glad of it. He raised his head, and found himself faced with red optics.
"I…I forgive you."
Bleh. Me no likely, but sadly I can't think of a better thing. So here is this thing. Enjoy the thing. I love you.
Peace out.