The Brat Prince of Vos
Chapter 2
Continuity: Pre- and Post-TF:A, a little bit of AU here and there
Warnings: None for this chapter
Pairings: None for this chapter, eventual Megatron x Starscream.
As Megatron had expected, the inner city of Vos was made up entirely of towers and spires. It was no wonder groundlings weren't allowed in, and not just because of cultural tradition - there wasn't a single road or track for their vehicle forms to use. Every door served the double purpose of a landing platform, and the citizens swooped and dived gracefully between the high buildings from platform to platform.
Four guards surrounded him in a tight formation, but despite their presence, some of the citizens flew near in curiosity. Some tittered and sniggered at Megatron's poor flying style, others simply circled him, trying to get a better look at the strange outsider.
The Royal Guard seemed to be leading him to the highest spire, located directly in the centre of the city - the palace, Megatron assumed, although apart from its size it looked no different from the other buildings. As they got closer, they increased their altitude, the Decepticon leader following clumsily.
Megatron spotted a large landing platform about three quarters up the building, with a single mech standing on it in his bipedal mode. The mech was a greyish purple and had a sombre expression, with green optics just like the other Royal Guards, although he did not wear the same stripes as they did on their wings. The mech stepped back a little, and the Royal Guard transformed and landed on the platform, Megatron lagging behind a little before doing the same.
"Welcome, Megatron," the mech said, bowing respectfully. "My name is Cyclonus. I am the Minister of Foreign Affairs in Vos."
"Cyclonus," Megatron repeated, bowing in return. "I am here to see the King."
"In due time," Cyclonus replied vaguely. "You understand, of course, we are mechs of tradition here. How much do you know of our customs?"
The Decepticon leader opened his mouth with a retort, but quickly closed it again, sensing the need for diplomacy here. "I know…some," he grunted grudgingly.
The purple flier smiled softly. "I suspected as much. As Minister of Foreign Affairs, it is my duty to instruct you in the proper etiquette for audiences with the King," he continued smoothly. "After all…you do want to avoid execution."
Megatron raised an optic ridge. "And…how long would this take, then?"
"Not long, not long," Cyclonus waved the question off, turning to go inside and beckoning Megatron to follow. "A few hours, I suppose. You will stay the night, of course, and the King will see you in the morning."
The Decepticon leader frowned, following after Cyclonus. "Very well, then," he grumbled.
"I will lead you to the ambassador's quarters," Cyclonus continued as they walked. "We will conduct our lesson there."
The inside of the palace was decorated in Royal Blue, Megatron noted, the same colour that adorned the stripes of the Guard. The corridors and rooms were wide and spacious with high ceilings, most likely to accommodate the wings of the fliers in the city. Surprisingly, they soon came to a large staircase which spiralled up the centre of the tower, and Megatron realized that the centre of the spires were hollow, acting as a space for them to fly between floors without having to use the outer landing platforms. In the hollow, central shaft of the tower, fliers of all sizes and descriptions flew up and down busily, some carrying trays, others looking as if they were carrying out important tasks.
Cyclonus continued to lead him up the spiralling stairs at a leisurely pace - Megatron was not sure why they didn't just fly, but couldn't tell if it was impolite to ask. As they got higher up the building, the activity in the central shaft decreased, and fewer mechs passed them on the stairs.
Suddenly, several small blurs of colour shot by Megatron. The Decepticon leader spun around in shock, raising his fusion cannon defensively.
"What in the pit was - !?"
Cyclonus laid a hand on Megatron's cannon, lowering it. "Just the Royal children playing. Nothing to worry about," he explained. "I'd advise you to take off your cannon as soon as possible. Your defensive reflexes will get you into trouble if you raise weapons at the Royal Family again."
Then Cyclonus shot his other hand out, snatching at thin air - but when Megatron looked, in Cyclonus' hand was a grey wing, attached to a struggling youngling.
"Let go of me, you big meanie!" shrieked the small femme.
"Princess Laserwave, that is no way to behave," Cyclonus reprimanded her, ignoring Megatron for the moment. "You will address me in a manner more fitting of your Royal heritage."
"Fine!" she shrieked, pitch rising. "Let me go, Minister Cyclonus!"
"You should not have allowed yourself to get caught in the first place," scolded the older, purple flier. "When you are caught, you are reprehensible for your actions. If you are not, then nobody can punish you. Let this be a lesson to you." Megatron widened his optics in confusion, wondering if these sorts of morals were taught to all the children in Vos. The Princess pouted, still dangling in Cyclonus' grip.
"Now," Cyclonus continued, "please explain why you are racing on the staircase. Your father has warned you about this."
"We were chasing Starscream," she muttered, struggling to free herself. "It's all his fault! He should have just let me catch him!"
"Prince Starscream is faster than you. Just because you are his older sister does not entitle you the right to impede his flying," chided Cyclonus. "As punishment, your dinner will consist of poorly processed energon. Do not let me catch you again." With that, he let go of Princess Laserwave's wing, and she sped off yelling curses at Cyclonus. The minister just continued up the stairs as if nothing had happened.
"You're really allowed to tell the Royal children off?" Megatron asked in disbelief.
Cyclonus nodded. "All of the upper class may contribute towards their education," he explained. "In the rest of the city, children are brought up by the community as a whole. It is the same for the Royalty. Besides, the King has so many children."
"How many?" Megatron prompted curiously.
"Thirteen - an unlucky number," sighed Cyclonus. "The Queen offlined about a century after the youngest Prince was born. A shame. Since you will be required to greet each of the Royal children, I may as well start our lesson on this topic. The heir to the throne is painted Royal Blue, like the King. The paint colour of the eldest to the youngest varies chromatically - the second oldest is Cerulean, the third oldest Cyan, through to greens, yellows, oranges, reds and so on. In order - engage your memory functions for this, it's important - " Cyclonus continued, "Their names are Prince Rainmaker, Prince Dreadwing, Princess Stormcloud, Prince Clearsky, Princess Laserwave, Princess Nightwing, Prince Thunderstorm, Prince Acidstorm, Princess Raincloud, Prince Moonwing, Princess Morningstar, Princess Shiningstar, and the youngest, Prince Starscream. Have you got that?"
Megatron ran through the list in his head, squashing the urge to comment on their ridiculous names (though he supposed, after having thirteen sparklings, he would be stretched for names too). "Got it," he nodded. "And I'll have to greet all thirteen, individually?"
"Yes, in order of age. Irritating, but customary, you understand," Cyclonus grinned. The purple flier stopped in front of an impressive looking door. "We will continue our lessons inside your quarters, here. We have barely even begun."
Megatron rubbed at his helmet irritably - he could tell he was in for a long night.