Kneeling to the Sword

by Gatekat

Knights of Light. Dai Atlas/Axe. When General Dai Atlas and his SIC decide to retire from Nova Prime's army, they know it could cost them dearly and plan accordingly.

3. Battle and Choices

Fandom: Transformers G1
Author: gatekat, ultrarodimus on LJ
Pairing: Axe/Dai Atlas, Axe/Wing
Rating: NC-17
Codes: Slash, Sticky, Spark, Voyeurism, Historical Setting, Knights of Light
Summary:
Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics .livejournal 290 .html). We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.

Kneeling to the Sword 03: Battle and Choices
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three vorns had passed since Wing had taken Dai Atlas on as his Initiate, a Knight-in-training. They were an interesting pair, but they actually worked together quite well when one wasn't traumatizing the other with pranks or stories of the depravities of mecha.

After two vorns of endless katas and drills, Wing had begun sparring with Dai Atlas. It was decades sooner than most managed, but most had not been sparked warriors or with an intuitive understanding of anything presented to them as long as it was meant to fight with. Honing the blue giant's swordsmech skill was a joy for Wing. It was a satisfying task easily and quickly accomplished. Dai Atlas was a quick learner, but with only three vorns in the form against Wing's centuries, the small jet was still far better; most orns sparring with him was like trying to hit smoke for Dai Atlas.

With the paint blades in use for their sparring, Dai Atlas' blue armor usually ended up covered in streaks of yellow or red, while Wing very rarely ended up with a single blue stripe marring his white armor. It was maddening to the ancient warrior, and amusing to everyone who came to watch, including Axe whenever he could manage.

This particular orn was no different. Dai Atlas' armor and wings bore an interesting pattern of vivid yellow, while the smaller white jet didn't have a single mark on him.

There were two things that were different that orn, however. The first was Axe watching intently, the gleam in his optics much like the look he got when they'd been courting. The second was a binding in blue cord three orns previously that was only now really settling into the ancient giant's processor and spark.

Axe perked up, recognizing the shift in his mate's mindset long before anyone else did.

Wing was a flicker of white as he dodged and parried Dai Atlas' swords, darting in to leave yet another stripe of yellow across his Initiate's thigh. His golden optics were bright, his ever-present smile firmly in place.

Axe saw it before his mate felt it as Wing connected with Dai Atlas' left knee. A blow that wasn't considered anything of importance in the sparring ring was something else entirely to the giant. Memory-pain roared into Dai Atlas' awareness as the world fell away to a battle long ago.

"Wing! Bolt!" Axe yelled at the small jet urgently.

The jet paused for the barest of instants, then decided to take the advice and get out of the way. Skittering backward, Wing did his best to put some distance between himself and Dai Atlas, not sure what was going on but knowing it wasn't something he'd want to be caught in. For one of the few times in his existence, Wing wasn't fast enough.

With a bellow of pain and killing rage, red optics flaring to a near-white, Dai Atlas punched his sparring sword squarely against Wing's chest, a perfect strike over his spark. Fortunately for the white jet, the blade did what it was designed to do and crumpled against his armor.

Wing yelped, then cried out in pain as the blow sent him flying. He hit the wall hard, his wings crushed against his back, his helm slamming against the unyielding surface hard enough to rattle his processor and make his optic feed skitz. One nacelle gave an unhealthy whine as the young jet crumpled, landing in a heap of armor on the floor.

He was only distantly aware of his Initiate being tackled by Axe and at least one other large mech. He was far more aware of the insane sound of rage coming from his Initiate and the intense pain coming from all parts of him.

Dai Atlas went suddenly silent, but before Wing could contemplate the cause Hardwing was kneeling next to him, trying to get his attention.

"Don't fade out on me," the gruff medic demanded, concern in his vocal harmonic.

Wing whimpered, trying to focus on the medic. His optics refused to work properly, his back was a mass of pain, and his limbs refused to coordinate their movements. He could only twitch, unable to stop the sounds of pain from escaping.

He didn't feel the medical hardline when it was plugged in, only the overrides as they were initiated. Suddenly the pain eased as his sensor net was shut down.

~Don't try to move. You're badly damaged, but nothing I can't repair,~ Hardwing told him firmly. ~You shouldn't be feeling much right now. I can put you in stasis, or you can remain conscious.~

A sound of relief escaped as the pain eased. He tried to peer around Hardwing in the general direction of his Initiate, but could barely make out the medic's silhouette with the static and out of focus issues.

~Would rather be offline... I'm so woozy and my processor feels like it's crawling,~ Wing replied unsteadily.

~All right,~ the medic said gently and flipped the protocol switch, sending Wing into the oblivion that was stasis.

S=================== S

Vanguard walked through the corridors of the Citadel, toward the penance room where Dai Atlas and Axe had been brought after Redline and Hardwing had kicked them out of the medical bay. While the two medics were fairly sure the larger of the pair was sane again, neither wanted to take any chances. Wing had been badly damaged, and no one wanted a repeat of what had happened.

The door to the chamber containing the two large mechs had been locked, with Master Marwir standing guard outside.

"They've been quiet and cooperative, Sovereign," she reported smoothly as she stepped aside.

Sovereign Vanguard nodded to her, coding open the door and stepping inside. The pair were sitting on the berth not truly big enough for the smaller of them, much less both. Axe was the first to notice him and stood quickly, all but dragging the miserable-looking Dai Atlas to his pedes.

"Sovereign," Axe said, then drifted off, uncertain of what else to say. This place was just structured enough he knew he should respond as he always had, but it wasn't structured enough that he knew how.

"Did I kill him?" Dai Atlas trembled faintly.

"Wing was badly damaged, but he will be fine. Hardwing is working on his repairs now." Vanguard's white optics narrowed at the larger of the two as Dai Atlas sagged in open relief. "Now I am hoping one of you can explain to me exactly what happened in the training room."

"There is a condition those who've experienced severe trauma sometimes develop, Sovereign," Axe spoke for his mate. "Occasionally a memory replay will overlay reality in a way that makes it very difficult to tell that you aren't back in that time and place. Shellshock and flashbacks are the common terms, at least in the military."

"He hit me exactly the same way I was crippled when my twenty-ninth charge ... my creation ... was cut down." Dai Atlas' wings trembled in the memory. "I knew I could have flashbacks. I never anticipated that I'd have one sparring. Never thought that Wing might manage to trigger it."

Vanguard frowned, his own wings twitching. "Then this is something that has the potential to happen again?"

"Yes," Dai Atlas acknowledged. "Not even all the research the military has done since long before I was sparked has a solution. I've done all that can be to mitigate the triggers and the trauma itself, but as long as the memories are functionally damage, it can happen again."

"It's been centuries since it happened," Axe spoke up in his mate's defense.

"That is something you will have to work out with Wing once his repairs are complete." Vanguard's expression became stern. "There will be a penance for your loss of control."

Axe tensed but Dai Atlas nodded both understanding and acceptance.

"What form?" the blue giant asked simply.

"Your penance will be a binding, in both red and white." Vanguard twitched his wings. "This I will oversee personally."

Axe twitched, nearly flinching, but Dai Atlas simply nodded. "This time until it is finished, not until I call for mercy."

"Correct." White optics met red levelly. "This will be seen through to its end."

"We will block the bond as much as possible," Dai Atlas said, offering more than was asked of him.

Axe objected with a muted squawk, and stared at his mate even as comprehension dawned on him.

The Seeker nodded. "Axe, you may choose to remain here or return to your chores for the duration of the penance."

Axe stared at his mate for a long, painful moment, then nodded slowly. "I will return to my chores for as long as I can," he sighed, deflating in surrender to his mate's wishes. "I'll come back, or go somewhere I can not hurt anyone, if the block breaks completely."

The burgundy Seeker nodded again, then crossed the chamber to the cabinet, reaching in to pick up the spools of cord. He took his time about it, giving the pair a moment before Axe would have to leave. Removing his Great Sword from his back and lifting off, he set it into the highest set of brackets, Vanguard turned back to Dai Atlas, waiting patiently.

Axe kissed his mate on the forehelm, then gently rested their forehelms together before he left the room, his frame displaying his unease. When the door closed Dai Atlas stood and approached the burgundy Seeker with the white optics of a Priest of Primus. He knelt and offered his forearms. His armor was slicked down, his field close to his plating, but his emotions were on clear display. Grief, shame and distress flickered around him as he submitted to a sentence he dreaded far more than any beating, shaming or punishment the military had dreamed up.

Vanguard watched in silence, taking note of the emotions written clearly in every line of Dai Atlas' frame as the Sovereign wrapped the red and white cords around black forearms and wrists in a complex binding. Once the cords were in place, the former High Priest hooked the binding over the hilt of his Great Sword, then settled back to wait out the penance.

Privately he was pleased. It spoke well of the Initiate's potential and future that Dai Atlas regretted his actions without punishment, or even knowing he would be punished. The cause was known, and while it would be a long and painful path to overcome it, nothing he felt in the giant indicated he would resist being healed.

This would be a rare Initiate who was likely to spend more time in binding meditation than sparring. The Sovereign had seen Dai Atlas fight, and had no doubt that everything he had heard of the former General from his contacts in the outside world was correct.

S=================== S

Axe was working through his chores almost on automatic, trying to ignore what was seeping through the bond despite the strength of the blocks he and Dai Atlas had erected. Black armor was tight to his frame, making his state of mind clear enough that the other Supplicants kept their distance.

Only three mechs came anywhere near him. Redline, to ensure that he was still healthy and stable enough to be out and about. Dart, both in his function as the Archon and with a gentle voice and touch of one who was trying to be a supportive friend. It was Atl that got through to him though, at least a little. The mid-sized grounder made his spark calm, just a bit, with nothing more than his presence.

Dart was respectful too, giving him duties where someone could keep an optic on him, but also where he wasn't actually working with anyone.

He felt Atl approach before the Knight said anything, felt himself relax just a fraction as their fields touched and gently mingled.

Black plating quivered, then slowly loosened from its tight clamp. Grunting a greeting, Axe looked up from what he was doing, glancing over at the red Knight.

"You're both strong, to endure this so well," Atl moved to place a hand on Axe's arm in comfort. He paused just above the plating, checking that the touch was welcome, before squeezing gently. "It will end."

"Doesn't make it any more pleasant to have to deal with," Axe sighed. He leaned slightly toward the touch.

"No, I don't expect it does," Atl agreed, offering more of his frame to lean on if it was desired. "It will be worth it to have him healed from such pain."

The black and gold triple changer nodded slowly. "Yes, it will be worth it. Even if it doesn't feel that way when he's going through it."

Atl paused, considering Axe as the larger mech flinched from something only he could sense. "You have similar traumas, I think."

"He and I have seen just about every atrocity possible. He's just seen more of it than I have." Black plating ruffled unhappily.

"If you pursue becoming a Knight of Light, you will have to overcome them, much as he is now," Atl said, almost cautiously.

The gold-crested black helm nodded. "I know. And it will likely be as difficult for me as it is for my bonded. I can't say I'm looking forward to it, but, hopefully, facing it and overcoming it will help me heal."

Atl smiled warmly at him. "If you wish, I can take you through a few meditations and bindings."

Axe responded with a slight smile. "I'll probably take you up on that. But after my mate is finished his binding. I really don't want to find out what might happen with both of us undergoing it at the same time."

"No, not now," Atl shook his head sharply. "That would be detrimental to you both. I am here for you though, if anything would help."

Axe twitched as something else seeped through the bond. "Anything to distract me from what Dai Atlas is going through. During the first binding, cuddling and talking with Wing helped. Now... I don't know."

Atl considered him evenly. "Sparring, pleasure, meditation?"

The black triple changer debated, shifting his weight from pede to pede. "I'm not sure how well I'd be able to meditate right now... Pleasure would probably be the better option."

Alt smiled and nodded. He squeezed Axe's arm. "I will speak to Dart, then we can go to my quarters and see about helping you relax and recharge well."

Axe smiled slightly, leaning into the touch. "That would be most helpful. With what Dai is going through... I'm so wound up my concentration is about shot to pieces."

"Understandable," Atl opened a comm to Dart. ::I'd like to steal Axe until Dai Atlas' penance is complete.::

::Go for it. I'm glad he's finally accepted some real support,:: the cycle-former said warmly. ::Mech's entirely too used to not looking outside his mate for help.::

::Thank you,:: Atl said and closed the comm. "You're mine until this is over."

The black and gold triple changer vented softly, putting away the supplies he'd been using. Brushing absently at the dust collecting on his armor, he stretched to work a kink out of his back, then stepped toward Atl. "Lead the way."

The smaller grounder nodded and headed across the courtyard to the tower where the Senior Knights lived. "Are you at all bothered by smaller spaces? You'll fit in my quarters, but you won't have that much extra headroom."

"I'm not as bothered by small spaces as Dai Atlas is, but then, he has a lot more kibble to snag on low ceilings." Axe followed Atl, matching the smaller mech's pace.

"And a fair amount of extra height to start with," Atl agreed easily, showing Axe to a ground level apartment that looked much like Wing's first one had, other than general lack of flier special access. "Energon?"

Axe chuckled. "True. Dai's problem with low ceilings and too-small pieces of furniture has been a running joke between us ever since I became his lover." He followed the Senior Knight inside, looking around curiously at the warmly decorated space, full of tickets of his travels, vid captures of mecha and places, and artwork of moderate value but good craftmechship. "Yes, thank you."

Atl nodded and went to an inset cabinet for two cubes. "What kind of pleasure appeals right now?"

The older mech accepted the cube with a nod, taking a sip as he thought. "Tactile, touch, and we'll see where it goes from there." Axe flinched slightly at something coming through the bond, armor plates scraping against each other.

With an easy nod Atl motioned for Axe to follow him into the berthroom he used and a berth large enough for Axe to lay on it, though his pedes would dangle off the end. "Lay down, and I'll see about distracting you."

Axe settled onto the berth, not minding that it was a little too short for his frame. Blue optics took in the decor of Atl's berthroom before settling onto Atl himself. "Thank you."

"You are welcome," Atl smiled at him as he settled across Axe's back just above his hips and set a polishing kit to the side. "Are there any spots I shouldn't touch?"

"There's an old scar, partly hidden by my shoulder armor. One of the sensor nodes under it is damaged and sends out conflicting signals when touched. That's the only spot I'd prefer you avoid," Axe replied, making an effort to loosen flattened-down armor plating.

"Understood," Atl focused on the area for a moment to pick out the spot and noted it to avoid. Then he went to work with a bit of warm oil and a soft cloth, every touch intended to relax and make the mech under him feel good.

Slowly, flattened-down armor plating loosened. Blue optics dimmed slightly as Axe made an effort to settle down, resting his chin on crossed wrists. Tensed-up cables and hydraulics slowly relaxed.

"That's good," Atl purred softly, his field ever so gently offering to mesh with Axe's to improve the experience.

Axe's field meshed slowly with Atl's, drawing back briefly before extending again. The larger mech's blue optics dimmed almost off, his plating vibrating slightly at the deep, soft rumble he let out.

Strong, careful hands continued to work on oiling black plating, rubbing the warm, slick substance in. He even worked on the edges that rarely saw attention short of meeting the Prime with long, smooth strokes.

Black armor vibrated at Axe's deep, soft purr, plating lifting just enough to allow better access to the edges but not enough to let anything slip under them. Axe didn't trust anyone but Dai Atlas enough to give them access to his systems, even the surface systems just under his armor. He was still tense, but the tension was slowly flowing out of him.

"What feels best?" Atl asked softly, his hands never stilling as he worked upward slowly, taking his time.

It took a moment for the larger mech to register the question. He hummed thoughtfully as he considered how to respond. "It all feels good," he answered finally, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. "At this point I would be hard-pressed to pick something as feeling better than the rest."

"That's okay," Atl smiled, his field warm, accepting and supporting as he continued to work the warm oil along and into the plating. "You feel like you're relaxing a bit."

A shiver ran through Axe's body and black armor clamped down briefly, reflecting something he sensed from Dai Atlas. Armor rattled slightly as the black mech trembled, then he slowly settled down again, armor loosening. "As much as I can."

"Don't stress about it," Atl extended his field, his focus on soothing the giant. "Is this the worst you've experienced through the bond?"

"When compressed into a short amount of time, it comes very close," Axe answered, accepting the contact. He shifted into Atl's hands, enjoying the touch and the lack of demands on him. It had been so rare to have someone who simply wanted to help and expected nothing but civility in return.

S=================== S

Wing groaned softly as he came out of stasis, the medical overrides keeping his booting up steady and methodical. He could tell that he'd had to undergo major surgery to repair all the damage; the new parts had the distinct, itchy tightness of fresh repairs that were still integrating into his frame. Still, he felt a lot better now than he did before he'd gone into stasis.

"Any warnings or errors?" Hardwing's voice asked after his vocalizer booted.

"No," Wing rasped, his vocalizer still slightly undercharged. "No warnings or errors. Just the usual ache that accompanies major repairs." Slowly, carefully, the white jet sat up. In addition to Hardwing, there were Masters Aurora and Marwir slightly further back.

Aurora was the first to speak as she walked to up Wing and placed a hand on his shoulder. "The Sovereign is overseeing his penance, a binding of red and white."

White armor ruffled. Dai Atlas wouldn't be in the best of shape himself after that. But it was better than a beating in Wing's processor. "He didn't mean to hurt me."

"We know. He suffered a flashback. Apparently you struck him exactly as he was damaged when he lost one of his creations," she explained, her voice soft yet with the firm control of the sky. "You are likely to have some orns free. It has the markers of a very long binding."

Wing drooped at that revelation, making a mental note to avoid that strike in the future and giving that thought the highest priority tag. "I'm not surprised. He has a lot of old trauma to work through."

"Yes, and even working through this one loss is not going easily," she nodded, then glanced at Marwir. "I would see you in my office once your Daoshi releases you."

Wing nodded his response. "And once Hardwing decides I'm ready to leave the medbay. Last time I tried to leave early I got a rant that almost stripped the paint right off my frame."

Marwir smirked at that. "You mean you actually learned from that?"

"Never doubt the power of a fully trained medic," Hardwing fluffed his wings proudly. "Stay still for a joor. I'll be back to check on you then."

"When the hint is applied forcefully enough, it penetrates even my thick cranial plating," Wing retorted. He shuffled slightly so he could sit cross-legged on the med berth, watching the CMO leave.

"Are you really all right?" Marwir asked, her voice low as she moved to sit next to him. Her field extended, brushing his in an offer of support, a reminder she would always be his Daoshi and she cared about him.

"I'm all right," Wing murmured back. "Once the new parts finish integrating the ache will go away. And I can understand why Dai reacted as he did. I'm more worried about him."

"A binding will not hurt him," she said in reminder. "At worst it will not help. At best he will have one less scar hindering him."

"I know." Wing's wings ruffled. "But still. I saw the state he was in after his first binding, and I can't help worrying."

She smiled gently and squeezed his shoulder, their matching frametypes as marked in their similarities as their differences. "You are his Daoshi. It comes with the position. You worried me more than I care to mention."

"I turned out all right, though." The younger jet grinned at her.

"Still insufferable," she flipped her wings at him. "Still pushing the limits. You've got your hands full with this one. He'll pay you back for everything you ever did to me," she chuckled.

Wing puffed up his armor. "It's my nature. Always has been, always will be. And I'm well aware that Dai Atlas will be quite a handful. I never did do anything the easy way, if you'll recall. But seeing him as a Knight, bonding his own Great Sword, will be worth all the chaos."

"It always is," she smiled at him. "You know you can come to me if you ever have questions, or just need to rant at someone."

Wing returned the smile. "I'm probably going to take you up on that when the questions start coming. Thank you."

S=================== S

Wing walked through the corridors toward Aurora's office, wondering what she wanted to see him about. He couldn't think of anything that could have brought this on; the white jet and his Initiate had a fairly good relationship, the occasional flashback aside. So what was this about?

The young jet nodded absently to a couple of other Knights as he walked into the corridor where the Master Knights had their offices, stopping to knock on Aurora's office door. It slid open for him and she motioned him to come inside, her expression a bit more grim than usual.

She remained silent as he came before her and the door closed. "How well do you know your Initiate?"

"I'd like to think I know a fair bit about him," Wing answered, blinking at her. "Not everything about him, of course. But I have learned a fair bit both from him and from Axe."

"Good," she twitched her wings. "I want you to begin actively snooping. I have begun to hear questions about his loyalties."

White wings and nacelle pinions flared out in shock. "Snooping? What questions?"

"Predominantly that he was sowing unrest against the Prime," she said simply. "That he has contacts with various underground movements intent on overthrowing the Prime. We can not afford to be linked to such movements and come under scrutiny."

Wing stared at the Master Knight in utter shock for several kliks before he managed to get his vocalizer working again. "He didn't, and he doesn't! I don't know why anyone would think that!"

"Planted rumors designed to discredit him, the truth, or something in between," she flicked her wings in a shrug. "I want you to find out. Look through everything he brought with him, data included. I understand you are skilled at finding things not meant to be found. Do it here."

From his expression, Wing was not at all pleased about having to breach his Initiate's privacy, but not even he would disobey a direct order. It would be under protest, though. "I don't understand why anyone would want to spread such rumors about him."

The expression he received was a sad one. "You will, in time, if you ever learn enough of politics to join the Circle of Masters."

White armor ruffled. "I know Dai has done none of what the rumors claim."

"I am pleased you have such faith in your Initiate. I need you to prove it to me."

Wing's wings pulled tight to his back. "I don't like having to go through his personal possessions and breach his privacy. But I want those rumors to stop."

"The only privacy you are breaching is what you gave him," she pointed out. "You may or may not remember, but no one here has secrets unless those of higher rank permit them." She tapped her fingers before her nose. "By doing this quietly and snooping, if he is innocent, it need never go beyond the two of us."

Wing nodded. "True." He ruffled his wings again. "I'll do it, then."

"Good. I want to know the truth behind these rumors," she told him. "Questions?"

"Not that I can think off the top of my helm," he replied, still clearly unhappy.

"Then you are dismissed," she said. "Find out what is going on."

Wing nodded silently. Turning, he left Aurora's office and began making his way to the quarters he shared with his Initiate. Reaching his quarters, he let himself in, walking into Dai Atlas' berthroom and looking around.

With a heavy, strut-rattling sigh, Wing got to work. Dai Atlas had very little, he knew, and didn't seem to be much on getting more. The only real item of note in the room was a large and very expensive holo-projector set up for viewing from the berth.

Wing inspected the holo-projector for a moment, then turned it on, sitting on the edge of the berth to view the images. He'd seen a few when poking his helm in the room when Dai Atlas was there. The giant had always turned it off almost instantly, though there was never a hint that it was to hide the images. It always felt like the Initiate was being polite by turning off distractions to give Wing his full attention.

Now Wing got to look at them for as long as he wanted. As the captures flowed by he recognized a few faces from historical records; what seemed like every Prime, Generals, Senators, and hundreds, if not thousands of faces he didn't know but could place as military. There were captures of a very young seeming Dai Atlas, obviously taken by his own mentor. Even though he'd been sparked in his full sized frame, the way he held himself didn't carry nearly the authority he did now, or in later captures.

Formations, small units, individuals, pairs or trines; from formal to casual to overcharged brawls. He recognized many bonding ceremonies, promotions ... they were all happy occasions, the mecha smiling, laughing. Even Dai Atlas, when he was in the image. They didn't seem to be in any kind of order either. One image of a youthful Dai Atlas was directly after one of Nova Prime, something that was not truth in reality.

He was amazed by all the mecha his Initiate had known, and all the places he had been and all he was implied to have done. Every record was a happy one. No funerals, no battles, no death.

He was more than a full joor into watching when Wing realized that some of the images had captions or comments in small glyphs. Sometimes on the bottom, or along a side ... seemingly anywhere that wouldn't get in the way. Which seemed odd, given captures didn't normally have fixed dimensions. Normally length was added and the text put in the blank addition, completely outside the image.

Wing peered at the captions, his audial fins flaring slightly as he read designations, places, units, dates and occasionally events or titles. His wings shifted against his back as he began to place things in order. On many of the single-mecha images there were three dates; activation and deactivation he was sure. The third was probably when the capture was taken.

The young jet keened softly as he took in those images. These must have been some of the mecha his Initiate had raised and lost. His creations. White wings tightened against his back briefly.

Golden optics widened slightly at some of what that projector contained. Most of the mecha in the image captures were before his time, but he still knew of the important ones from the news feeds and records he'd seen while he had walked Cybertron. He was fascinated by what he was seeing, what it told him about his Initiate's long existence before coming to the Citadel.

The next image to load wasn't an image, but a full vid. A triple changer of dark purple, black and silver with a purple-red optic band was laying on a berth too large for him.

"Show me how much you want me," Dai Atlas' voice rumbled from off screen.

"Tease," the triple changer growled even as he slid his spike cover back, allowing a thick spike to pressurize quickly.

Wing's optics went so wide they nearly popped out, his wings flaring out and pinions standing straight up in surprise. This was not something he had expected to find. Wing stared at the screen, studying the strange mech. Axe had mentioned that Dai Atlas had had many other lovers, but still, this particular material wasn't anything Wing had expected.

The white jet squirmed slightly on the berth as he continued to watch, unable to look away as the purple triple changer began to stroke himself, moaning and rolling his hips into each stroke. A shift of the recorder and legs and the fact that his valve cover was open, lubricant thick and glistening over the platelets, became evident.

"You want my spike in there don't you?" Dai Atlas teased his lover. "You want me to pound you into the berth, make you scream until your vocalizer shorts out."

The whining keen Wing let out drowned out the response from the strange triple changer on the screen. His wings fluttered and twitched as they folded again, the young jet unable to look away. Dai Atlas himself could have walked up behind Wing at that moment and the small white jet would not have noticed. His optics were fixed on the screen, watching the strange triple changer touch himself, listening to Dai Atlas' voice winding the strange mech up.

When the purple-red optic band dimmed, Dai Atlas stepped into the scene. His spike pressurized and ready, his frame tense with desire. He knelt on the bed, leaning over the smaller triple changer to kiss him soundly and passionately.

"Mine," Dai Atlas rumbled hotly, causing his lover to shudder even before the medium blue and black spike was lined up with the purple mech's valve and pressed in, hilting in a single, smooth thrust of long familiarity.

The tone of the blue mech's voice sent shivers up and down Wing's spinal strut, the white jet rubbing his thighs together and whining uncomfortably to himself. His gaze was fixed on what he was seeing, the smooth movements of Dai Atlas' hips and the sounds his lover was making.

If there was more material of that type on the projector, Wing might have to go hunt down Thorn once he was finished watching it.

"Mine," the purple mech growled, his hips driving up into the thrusts.

"Always," Dai Atlas promised, his chest plates parting to expose the rich ruby spark that sustained his life. Under him the other mech matched the offer, exposing a dark purple-red spark that reached eagerly for the red one above it. "Always," Dai Atlas whispered as the merge stole their awareness that they were being recorded.

The part of Wing's processor that wasn't completely preoccupied with what he was seeing wondered who the smaller triple changer was, or who he had been. The white jet didn't recall seeing him in any of the images in which the mechs had been named, or at least not in any of the captioned images he'd already looked at.

Golden optics caught and admired the red spark shining out from parted black chestplates. Slender white wings flared out to their full span, fluttering madly to try and dissipate the charge building in their joints and seams.

The merge was a long one, or it seemed so to Wing, yet it ended as all good interfaces did with the bellowing roars of both lovers mingled and overlaying.

As Dai Atlas sank down, spent, on top of his lover, the segment ended.

The next image was of that purple triple changer, grinning madly and pressed against Dai Atlas' chest plates in a possessively playful embrace at some kind of formal event.

The caption on this one was glowing, begging to be read.

Bonded on this orn
Captain Dai Atlas and Lieutenant Nightshadow

Wing stared. Dai Atlas had been bonded before he had bonded with Axe, and had lost his mate? The young jet had known that his Initiate had had other lovers, but not that he had been bonded before. Dai Atlas' violent reactions to the pink-cord binding were making even more sense now, and the white jet's arousal faded as he hunched in on himself, belatedly glancing around to make sure he was still alone.

His shame hadn't been witnessed. He was by himself in the room, only the projector providing any sense of movement as the images continued. Several passed without him really seeing them, but a personally familiar face and form snapped his attention back into focus.

This time Wing was staring for a different reason. He knew that femme. She was another Knight, out on walkabout. How did Dai Atlas know her?

Wing was torn between keeping his mouth shut about this when Dai Atlas returned, or asking about her. Which would mean revealing that he had been snooping, and probably hiding from Dai Atlas' temper for a few orns.

Belatedly he thought to find the caption and caught it before the next image.

Corporal Snapjaw
Scout, 108th.

The date was long ago, longer than he'd though she had functioned, but he hadn't thought she had been military either.

Wing blinked several times. Demeter had been a scout in the military. Probably under Dai Atlas' command at some point. That was something the young white jet hadn't known. But then, Demeter was fairly close-mouthed about her past and like the rest of the Citadel, he hadn't pried. Who so much of the population was escaping their past, there were things that no one asked and few volunteered.

It took a few kliks to shake off his shock, pondering what might happen when she returned from walkabout and saw Dai Atlas in the Citadel for the first time. It was sure to be interesting.

Another image caught Wing's optic. He could see Dai Atlas' distinctive helm crest and wings, but he couldn't quite make out what was going on. The "I don't know this mech" expression on a large silver and purple triple changer with red optics and sword hilts showing over his shoulders hinted that, whatever it was, it was probably fueled by high-grade and likely embarrassing.

The still dissolved into motion, and though the quality was poor, as it played out Wing had to work to keep the snickers down.

The voices in the vid were loud and distinctly slurred, most of them betting on something. Dai Atlas' voice rose over the others briefly, but Wing missed what he said, his own snickering drowning out the audio. The facepalm and groan from the large triple changer in the back, as well as the roar of laughter from the other mecha in the video, were clear enough, though. The video ended with Dai Atlas being dragged off by the helm crest, protesting loudly, much to the amusement of the others.

By then, Wing had collapsed back onto the berth, laughing so hard his frame hurt. He missed several more images before managing to get himself back under control and sit up again, though the occasional snicker still escaped.

More posed pictures of small units passed, interesting only in that they marked yet more mecha that Dai Atlas had known, and another vid came up. This one from the POV of a jet skydancing. The world was a blur to anyone not used to the speeds and sudden changes of direction.

Seeing that, Wing leaned forward eagerly. Being a jet and stunt flier himself, he could easily follow the action, and it was impressive. He charted out the moves in his processor, matching what he was seeing to the vid Axe had shown him of Dai Atlas' courting flight, and gold optics lit up as he realized he was seeing that wild dance through Dai Atlas' own optics.

As impressive as it had been from the outside, watching it from the performer's POV was even more enthralling for Wing. This was what he'd been designed for, quite literally. Even knowing what he did, it was hard matching these speeds and maneuvers to the giant he knew was performing them.

The small white jet let out a low whistle as he watched yet another very close call. Dai Atlas had really been pushing himself, and probably would have been feeling it in every inch of his frame for a few joors afterward. If he even noticed. Wing could see the flash and flare of laser fire slashing past close enough to singe along wide white wings, could see the explosives going off in the air around the dancing mech. The young jet was thoroughly impressed and could tell why Axe had accepted the proposal. Something like that would be slagging hard to refuse.

This was no token dance. This was a desperate, final effort to convince someone that you were worthy and wanted them more than your very spark.

Once more Wing sent a prayer to Primus to allow him a mate he desired so much to give such a dance for, to risk his very spark in pushing his frame that hard for. It was a desire that he couldn't imagine yet, though he knew he wanted.

Suddenly Axe was on the edge of the frame, entering the dance, slowing it down into the acceptance phase.

A soft chirr escaped Wing as he watched, impressed and more than slightly jealous. He watched as the two big triples danced together, noting fewer bursts of laser fire streaking past them and catching the occasional glimpse of a sea of staring mechs on the ground below them. Other fliers hovered at a distance with weapons all but forgotten in their hands, optics wide and jaws dropping when they weren't wearing facemasks or optic shields.

The feed cut off as Axe came close enough to touch, the close up of the black and gold mech's bright blue optics as they kissed the last thing in the recording.

Wing purred softly, wings quivering against his back. Watching the dance though Dai Atlas' optics had been most impressive, as had the acceptance dance. The two big mechs were a fine pair.

It took a klik for Wing to get himself back on track, looking up to see what else the projector contained.

More designations of those gone, only a handful still living. Dai Atlas' promotion to General by Guardian Prime. More mecha Wing didn't know and would never have an opportunity to meet.

Wing made a soft, sad sound as he noted just how few of those mecha were still among the functioning. No wonder Dai Atlas had so much loss and pain in his past, and no wonder it would take him a long time to get through it all. Golden optics flicked over the images as the scenes changed, fitting the dates into the timeline of Dai Atlas' existence.

He recognized the setup for another interface scene as soon as it appeared. This time Axe had his hands bound over his helm and to the berth he was laying on. He was lounging, watching the mech behind the recorder with half-shuttered blue optics, lips slightly parted. His body language was inviting, and a very soft purr could be heard.

Wing's nacelle pinions pricked up, twitching. He leaned forward, watching with interest and no little anticipation. He already knew these two could put on a stunning show even when they were impatient, and it didn't look like they were impatient right now.

"Such a sexy creature," Dai Atlas' voice was low, sultry and promising that he had no end of patience as he strode into the scene. His wings high and his manner with the same strength he held when Wing had first seen him. "Spread your legs. Show me what you want."

"I love it when you talk like that," Axe purred, his tone as sultry as his mate's, low and wanting. Gold-trimmed black legs parted, valve cover already open to show the platelets surrounding the entrance, lubricant glistening around the edges. "You know what I want, lover."

Wing quivered all over, those deep, purring voices sending shivers up and down his backstrut. His wings trembled against his back armor, one clattering against the blade of his Great Sword, canted to one side behind him.

"I know," Dai Atlas grinned and reached forward to run spread fingers down his mate's cockpit. "So slick, so ready, but that's not enough this orn." He whispered as he leaned forward, over his smaller mate, to claim Axe's mouth in a brief kiss. "You're going to beg for it before I give you what you want, and I'm going to have everything first."

Axe mock-pouted, leaning into the larger mech's touch and returning the kiss eagerly. "You're such a tease," he mock-whined, hands squirming against their bonds, wanting to touch the larger mech.

Wing's wings slowly unfurled, twitching slightly. His optics were riveted on the scene as Dai Atlas chuckled and began to kiss his way down Axe's cheek, then his neck.

"You love it," Wide wings quivered in arousal as their chassis rubbed together. Slow and determined lips ghosted warmth over black plating, the glossa slipping out to slide along each seam found.

Axe moaned softly, his frame shifting into the caress, one leg attempting to hook around the blue giant and pull him closer. Black armor plates flared slightly, giving better access. A whine escaped the black triple changer as he tried to free his hands, to reach up and touch Dai Atlas.

Wing's armor began to flare slowly, the jet squirming ever so slightly on the berth. What he was watching was so very hot.

Dai Atlas grinned and chuckled, allowing his mate to draw him closer, but all it did was allow the larger mech to extend his spike and begin to rub it slowly against Axe's abdominal plates.

"Does that feel good, love?" Dai Atlas purred with a deliberate roll of his hips. "It does for me."

Axe's glare contained as much lust as it did annoyance, his back arching up, pressing himself against the larger mech's frame. A stuttering gasp escaped him as Dai Atlas' spike rubbed over his abdomen, the black-armored frame writhing slightly, trying to get closer.

"Fragger," Axe growled, the word more purr than growl.

Wing's squirming became more pronounced, and he was getting hot under the armor. His wings twitched and wiggled, charge once again building in the joints.

A low chuckle rumbled up from Dai Atlas as he continued to roll his hips, stimulating Axe just a little bit while he worked his spike. Strong dentas nipped Axe's neck before lips and glossa soothed the sting.

Axe let out a low moan, tilting his helm back to give his larger mate better access to his neck, his soft hiss at the nip melting into a purr at the lick. His frame shifted under Dai Atlas', rubbing against that spike, craving more.

"Please," the black triple changer moaned.

Wing panted as he watched, wings fully spread and fluttering. One hand wandered over his own torso armor, sliding down his frame.

"Get me off first," Dai Atlas demanded with a resonant rumble that was pure seduction. "I want to feel and see my transfluid all over you as I pump more into that tight valve of yours. I'm going to mark you in every way I know how before I let you loose."

Axe's engines and turbines revved at that, his whole frame vibrating, cooling fans kicking on. He arched up into Dai Atlas, rubbing himself against the blue mech as best he could, whining and whimpering with need.

Wing echoed the whine, one hand sliding down to grasp at his own interface hatch. The seduction in the voice of the blue triple changer in the recording was having as much of an effect on the white jet as it had on Dai Atlas' own mate.

"Yes, that's it," Dai Atlas moaned, his rolling thrusts timed into Axe's undulations. His wings flared and quivered, expressing his pleasure as much as his voice did.

The black mech whined again, voice and optics expressing his need. His gaze was fixed on his mate's face, engines revving higher. Axe braced his heelplates against the surface of the berth, pressing upward against Dai Atlas' frame.

Wing's whine changed to a soft keen. Without even noticing he opened his interface hatch, fingers busy with his spike cover.

The bonded pair that had his attention took no notice, not that they could. Dai Atlas' frame stiffened slightly as his thrusts became stronger, a bit more erratic. His moans turned to grunting growls as energy began to crackle over his frame, lighting up his wings as they spread out above him.

"Yesss, that!" Dai Atlas shuddered, only a few thrusts away from pumping his transfluid all over his mate's abdominals and chest.

Axe braced himself as best he could, pressing up and shifting his frame against Dai Atlas' spike. His powerful engines and turbines revved higher, black armor rattling from the vibration. The black and gold mech's fingers wrapped around their bindings, tugging futilely at them. Blue optics never left the larger mech's face.

Wing's hand kneaded his spike, his other hand moving lower to fondle the edge of his valve cover. The young jet's lips were parted, his cooling fans going as fast as they could and his armor fluffed to let the heat out of his internals.

The roar Dai Atlas let out as he overloaded didn't carry nearly the intensity on the vid as it did in life, but the visual of a rushing torrent of crackling transfluid over black armor and the golden cockpit more than made up for the limited resonance of the sound.

Axe let out a feral, smug growl as he watched his mate's overload, his optics blazing. Hot air was practically blasting out of his vents and through his armor seams. His black-armored frame twisted under Dai Atlas, Axe desperately wanting his own overload. "Dai! Touch me! Please!"

Wing's optics were almost perfectly round, fixed on the images. One hand was feverishly working his spike, the fingers of his other hand buried in his valve.

"But I am touching you," the larger mech teased, somehow speaking despite the way he was gasping and shaking from his overload. "Spike," he hissed, claiming Axe's mouth in a fierce kiss. "Give me your spike while mine recovers."

"You know what I mean." Axe wriggled wildly under his mate for a moment. His spike almost popped out of its housing, transfluid already beading on its tip. The black mech returned the kiss with equal ferocity, nipping at Dai Atlas' lower lip.

Wing's turbines were revving high, their distinctive sound echoing through the room. He shifted so he was kneeling, legs parted to give himself access to his valve. Four fingers were buried in his valve, busy with every node they could reach. He could feel his overload building as he watched Dai Atlas shift to straddle Axe's hips and rocked for a moment. Though it wasn't visible, Wing knew exactly what was going on. Lubricant-slick platelets were rubbing against Axe's spike, smearing lubricant along the hard length and stimulating the outer valve nodes.

Axe moaned, his hips shifting, pressing upward as much as he could. His helm fell back onto the berth with a clang, hands flexing in their bonds. One heel struck sparks against the berth surface as he sought better purchase, with which to gain better leverage.

Wing keened, his optics glaring golden-white. Excess charge was beginning to nip at his systems, sending tingles through his sensor net.

Dai Atlas grinned down at his lover, unrepentant at the torment he was causing. Yet his own desire to have that spike inside him was more than he could take and he lifted up to slide the tip inside his valve with a shuddering moan. "Oh yes."

The black and gold mech gave him an annoyed growl at the teasing, the growl stuttering out into a moan as Dai Atlas finally slid the tip of Axe's spike into his valve. Bracing his pedes, Axe pressed upward with his hips, practically balancing on his shoulders, sliding as much of his spike into his mate's valve as he could even before Dai Atlas pressed down to take him the rest of the way in and pressed him to the berth.

Wing vented heavily, his keen rising in pitch. His keen hitched slightly as he caught one of the sensor nodes in his valve between two fingers, kneading it, while his other hand rode his spike. He wasn't quite frantic yet, but the charge was rising quickly between watching the two lovers and touching himself.

"You feel so good," Dai Atlas moaned, shivering as he held Axe in place for a moment, valve and spike both howling for more movement to their respective owners before it was granted.

"More," Axe pleaded, his voice rough, shifting his hips against his mate's, moving his spike within Dai Atlas' valve. "Please, more."

A soft moan escaped Wing's parted lip plates as he watched, entranced. His fingers moved deeper into his valve, stroking the lining and the sensor nodes. His other hand worked his spike, setting off all of the sensors along its length.

Huge white hands landed on either side of Axe's helm as Dai Atlas leaned forward and braced himself to rock his entire frame to slide Axe's spike in and out of himself, the camera positioned to capture the action in detail.

Axe pulled hard on the bindings holding his wrists, wanting to touch his mate and growling in frustration when they refused to give. He pressed upward into Dai Atlas' frame, rocking his hips in time with his larger mate's movements. He let out a deep, throaty moan, his gaze finding and locking onto Dai Atlas' red optics.

Wing's optics were fixed on the sight of Axe's gold-and-white-trimmed black spike sliding in and out of Dai Atlas' valve. A whine threaded through his keen, the sight driving his charge even higher. White armor puffed out all the way, the air shimmering around him from the amount of heat he was giving off.

Axe's roar came first, his entire frame arching to slam his hips into his mate, driving deeply into Dai Atlas' valve to pump heavily charged transfluid, triggering the larger mech's low, throaty moan as a weaker overload spiraled through him.

Wing's keen reached a new pitch, his body stiffening as his own overload crashed over him. Lubricant flooded over the fingers of the hand buried in his valve, his spike spurting transfluid onto the berth. The white jet trembled all over, venting heavily, his legs only barely able to hold him upright.

He glanced around quickly, making absolutely sure he was alone before returning his attention to the video. He would probably overload at least once more before this video ended. It was easily one of the better ones he'd seen, no doubt because the couple loved each other deeply and enjoyed the game.

When Wing managed to focus once more, Dai Atlas had shifted and grabbed both of Axe's legs to control the black mech's movements and angle. Once again the older mech was rubbing spike along platelets, only this time it was his spike along Axe's soaked platelets.

Axe spread his legs wantonly, watching his mate with half-lidded, sultry blue optics. Lubricant was oozing around the platelets in generous amounts, forming a small, slick puddle on the surface of the berth. He let out a purring moan as Dai Atlas' spike rubbed against by now hypersensitive platelets, trying to squirm his hips closer.

Wing let out a soft moan of appreciation, lips parted, wings fluttering and wiggling behind him as his fingers began to stimulate himself once more.

"So needy, my mate," Dai Atlas purred, thrusting his hips more sharply along the rim sensors. "You never get enough, do you?"

"Not enough of you, my love," Axe purred back. "Never enough of you. Ooh!" He pressed back into Dai Atlas, wanting more, desperate for that spike he adored so much to spread him open and white his processors out like no other could.

"Then you will have more," Dai Atlas betrayed his own desires in his tone. He shifted back and lined his spike up, but took an excruciatingly long time to slide forward, ensuring that they both felt every ridge, every caliper, every sensor node of their joining.

Axe moaned deeply, as turned on by his helpless reliance on his mate's actions as the actions themselves. He squirmed slightly on the berth, whining in protest at the slow pace while simultaneously purring at the sensations produced by that slow pace. "Yesssssssssssssss."

Wing's audial fins flared wide at the sounds the two giant mechs were making. His hands quickened on his spike and in his valve. They weren't just hot, they had endurance that they hadn't displayed where Wing could hear it. Oh, to have a mate like that!

Unlike before, this time Dai Atlas seemed to have no inclination to speed up. He took his mate slowly, methodically, every movement intended to create pleasure but also to draw it out.

The black and gold triple changer squirmed and panted, wordlessly pleading for his mate to move faster. Pleasure was cascading through his sensor net, every slow, methodical movement driving his charge higher.

Wing was getting so very jealous. He wished he had a partner like that, with that kind of endurance. Maybe someday, Primus willing, he would have that for himself. Whining softly, he pumped his spike, thumb rubbing over the platelets around his valve as his fingers delved deeper.

It was getting entirely too intense. He half hoped this was their last round. He doubted he had enough in him to take any more than this.

But it felt oh so very good. He could imagine the hands weren't his own, that a warm frame was against his back, nibbling on his neck, crooning at him to relax and submit, that everything would be taken care of. He could only hold that fantasy as the couple he was watching thrust and squirmed, moaning and panting as their pleasure built once more.

Wing's optics fixed on the video, part of his mind trying to build a fantasy-image of his partner. His hands continued to work his spike and valve, his hips jerking slightly despite his best efforts to hold still. White audial fins twitched at every sound the two giants made, his own soft whine twining around their grunts and moans and the revving of powerful engines and turbines.

"So tight. So slick. So good," Dai Atlas moaned between grunts, his entire frame straining in the effort not to pound his lover into the berth.

Axe echoed the moan, the calipers of his valve rippling against his mate's spike in a complex pattern. He was determined to break Dai Atlas' control, get him to move faster and harder. "More, Dai, please."

Wing echoed the moan, optics wide and only partly seeing the video. Charge was building fast across his systems.

"Spark," Dai Atlas demanded, letting Axe's legs go so they could get chest to chest.

Black armor plates promptly parted, folding out of the way. Blue light flooded from within Axe's chest, his spark flaring brilliantly within its crystalline prison. Threads of blue light crawled across the spark's casing, trying to reach out toward blue armor.

Wing keened, watching. He had yet to find a partner he'd want to share sparks with. Maybe someday he would have that chance. His hands moved faster on spike and in valve, bringing him closer to overload as deep red tendrils extended towards blue in an electric dance of sharing and pleasure far deeper and more intimate than any physical one.

Both mechs in the vid stilled, their focus on their merging sparks rather than the more carnal pleasures of their frame.

Wing's optics were fixed on what was happening, watching blue and red tendrils of light and energy wrap around each other, listening to the sharp gasps and moans of the two giant mechs. Keening and whining, Wing quickened the motion of his hands, threads of charge beginning to dart along his circuits as overload took him once more. The world whited out for him completely, his frame not his to command and pleasure the only sensation he could process.

He came back to awareness gradually, sated and content to simply exist for a time.

It took the young jet a few kliks for his processors to sort themselves out. Picking himself up off the berth and shifting back into a sitting position. Looking at the mess he'd left on the berth, Wing was glad he carried a few rags in subspace. Quickly cleaning himself up, he turned his attention to the projector, realizing that after the ending of the video recording, he had missed quite a bit of material.

With a sigh he stood, still a bit shaky, and walked up to rewind to see what he'd missed. Even only half paying attention he saw several maps flash ... only when he watched going forward, they weren't there.

White wings flared in astonishment. Wing worked the projector's controls, rewinding until he saw one of the maps, then pausing the recorder. Narrowing his optics, he stared at the display. Unlike the normal captures, this one had no captions, but it was detailed, far beyond the kind of map that a visitor would get when coming to a new place. Pits, it was more detailed than the one Wing currently had of the Citadel and surrounding lands.

It was of a big place too, several times the size of the Citadel.

Wing stared at what could only be the schematics for a military base for a long time. Finally prodding himself into action, he began rewinding the projector again, pausing on these hidden images to study them, staring at each for a long time before moving to the next.

"There's an easier way to access those," a deep rumbling voice came from behind him.

Wing had been so focused on the images that he'd never even noticed the other mech approaching. Yelping in surprise, Wing instinctively launched himself away from the source of the voice. Unfortunately, that launch took him straight into the wall hard enough to make his optics cross. Shaking his helm to clear it, he turned to look at whoever had walked in behind him, his expression very similar to that of a sparkling caught raiding the jar of energon treats. "Axe!"

The large black and gold mech raised an optic ridge as he leaned against the doorframe. "Yes, and you're a bit jumpy."

The white jet squirmed, looking even more like a youngling caught doing Something Not Allowed. "I wasn't expecting anyone to come here. Dai Atlas won't be finished with his penance for some time."

"I know," the big mech twitched, the only real physical display of how much he was affected by what was going on below. "So how about telling me why you're watching my mate's memory collection as porn?"

Wing inched backward a bit. "Orders. After Hardwing finished my repairs, Master Aurora called me to her office. There are rumors going around, and she ordered me to snoop."

A scowl crossed Axe's features, though it was hard to tell if it was Wing or his bond causing it. "So what, exactly, are you looking for?"

Wing took another step backward, closer to the wall. "Proof of innocence." He watched the larger mech warily.

"Of the six things I know are likely to come up, we are guilty of all but one," Axe pointed out with a muttered sigh. "We also admitted to our crimes before we were allowed to stay the decaorn. Just what does she think we're innocent of doing?"

Wing ruffled his wings uneasily. "There are rumors going around that Dai Atlas was sowing unrest against the Prime, and rumors of having contact with underground movements intent on overthrowing him. I don't believe any of it."

Axe rolled his optics. "Can't say I'm surprised. It's also all but impossible to prove otherwise. As justified as we'd be in doing so, we wouldn't be here if that was our goal." He paused. "She knows we're labeled traitors and we are technically deserters. What did she send you to find to prove we aren't active against the Prime?"

"She didn't tell me to look for anything in particular. She just told me to look." Wing had to shrug slightly, indicating he didn't know exactly what to look for.

"Right," Axe sighed and settled his armor uneasily. "So I can answer questions or I can leave you to your watching."

"I'm just about finished with the watching," Wing admitted. He glanced at the projector for a moment, before deciding to ask one question that had been bugging him. "How did Dai Atlas know Snapjaw?"

There was a pause as Axe tracked down the files attached to that designation. "She was a scout that reported to him some vorns ago. She was exceptional in organic environments, preferring an alt that resembled a rich brown long legged turbofox when she could. Dai Atlas accepted her buyout ... maybe seven and a half centuries ago. She's a playful mecha, as long as it's a good orn."

"I know her as Demeter, and she's on walkabout right now," Wing revealed. "Will be back in a century or so."

That raised an optic ridge. "Interesting. I wouldn't have guessed her for the Knight type."

"She seems to fit in well here." Wing shifted slightly. There was one more thing he wanted to ask, but wasn't sure how to phrase it. Nervousness was practically pouring off him.

"I'm not going to hit you," Axe prodded gently.

"When I was watching what the projector contains, I noticed that Dai Atlas had been bonded before, and I was wondering what happened to his previous mate." Wing flared his audial fins slightly, waiting to see if Axe would answer.

"He extinguished," Axe shrugged. "It's what happens to warriors. I never asked about details. I'm his third bonded, for reference. He's my second."

Wing blinked at the larger black mech. He couldn't imagine that amount of pain, to lose two bonded mates. To lose even one would have been excruciating, Wing thought.

The white jet glanced at the projector, then at the hidden image still frozen on the screen.

"What ... what happened to your first mate?" Wing decided that it was worth the risk in asking.

Axe deflated almost instantly. "I was young and arrogant. He'd been around long enough, a senior Captain when I was sparked, that I believed him when he said nothing was going to happen to him. He was gone only three battles later. I didn't have him a full vorn. It was one of the reasons I got transferred. I couldn't stand the pity I got from those who knew."

The small jet made a sad sound, wings shifting slightly. After a moment, he tilted his helm toward the projector. "Why hide the maps between the other pictures?"

"Hide?" Axe cocked his helm, focusing on the projector and map on display to place it.

"They're only visible when the files are being rewound. Playing normally, they're not visible at all." Wing turned on the projector to demonstrate. "They're hidden. Why hide them?"

Axe made a curious sound and walked up to the projector and placed his hand in the display. Immediately it responded to him by bringing up a control menu, something Wing had never seen the likes of. Fingers manipulated the interface so fast that it was difficult to follow.

A small scowl crossed Axe's features. "I think it's a glitch. They don't play on forward because, well, why would you want to look at maps in a memory files session?" he glanced down at Wing. "Those maps are all in a subfolder that doesn't normally play. I told you there were easier ways to see them."

Wing blinked at the display, peering around the larger mech's arm. "Huh. So the fact that they're appearing at all when their folder isn't open is a glitch?" He rubbed the back of his helm, confused.

"That's my guess," he nodded. "See, they're here," he pulled up the folder structure for the device and pointed to the master folder labeled 'Do Not Play' that had several subfolders; Maps, Schematics, Pain, Secured.

Gold optics narrowed. "And that is a label that just screams 'play me!' to anyone else who might be inclined to pry. With big neon letters." He tilted his helm. "Why keep maps and schematics like these, anyway?" His optics caught on the "Pain" label, but he said nothing.

"That I'm not as sure," Axe admitted. "I do know that they're the places he's served. I would assume he got them when he was stationed at a given base. I may be bonded to him, but I don't know how his processor works sometimes. Like that," he pointed at the one labeled 'pain', "is a folder I'd delete the contents of."

Wing tilted his helm at Axe, his expression asking for clarification. "Why? What is it?" Gold optics went from the larger mech's face to the file heading and back again.

"Funerals, kills that affected him, punishments. It's what it says; captures of what you deal with during a binding with pink cord. Why he keeps them is beyond me."

Wing's nacelle pinions drooped. "It keeps the pain from healing."

"Probably," Axe muttered. "Others will call it them a reminder of why you don't fail, or lessons learned. Not the kind of things I keep on mine ... well I do keep some funerals. But nothing like what's here."

"There's learning from failure, and then there's dwelling on failure. One is healthy, one isn't. This seems more like dwelling on failure to me." White armor ruffled. "He needs to get past that. I truly hope he overcomes his past during the course of his training..."

Axe glanced at him. "I was under the impression he has to, or he will not become a Knight."

"He has to address and accept his past." Wing's golden optics met blue. "The good and the bad. I do want to see him bond his own Great Sword and become a Knight. He has a great deal of potential."

Axe turned the holo-projector off and considered Wing for a moment. Then he stepped away and sat on the berth. "I've heard that a few times, bonding to the weapon. How do you bond to an object?"

"Great Swords are not mere objects. They're nothing like the weapons you're used to." Wing settled onto the berth, taking his Great Sword off his back and laying it across his thighs so Axe could get a better look at it. The blue crystal in the hilt glowed warmly. "This is the Great Sword that bonded to me. Its designation is Too Pure For This World."

Axe's gaze shifted from Wing to the large weapon and back again. His field extended cautiously, not just out of a sense of privacy for Wing, but because of his own stressed state. It was too much to ignore though, not to try and feel the Great Sword as he would a new mecha.

The Great Sword's gem flared, energy pulsing against Axe's field. It was clearly coming from the Great Sword itself, not the weapon's bearer. There was a vague sense of curiosity-not mine behind the energy pulse, the pulse reaching out to lightly brush Axe's before withdrawing. The pulse felt similar to a mech's energy field, but different in its own way.

"Does it talk to you?" Axe asked, both very curious and slightly unsettled.

"Not so much in words as in feelings or image-ideas," Wing answered. "The Great Swords are classed as semi-sentient. They do bond with their bearers, and they remember each mech who's ever carried them. Each new bearer makes the Great Sword's personality more complex. And they choose their own bearers, rather than vice versa."

That made Axe stiffen. "So there's no way to be sure Dai Atlas' will like me before it's far too late."

"I have yet to come across a case of a Sword disliking its bearer's mate," Wing admitted. "Even if it grumbles, or sulks, it can be ignored. Some are more opinionated than others, but in general the personalities of Sword and bearer tend to compliment each other. You want to become a Knight yourself. I can't see whichever Great Sword chooses Dai objecting to you."

"I hope so," Axe said softly, still uneasy. "I've seen such things go badly too many times."

The Great Sword on Wing's lap pulsed with energy again, this time with a calm-you'll be fine feel to it. Wing looked down at it, then smiled at Axe. "Whatever happens, it's still a long time in the future. That bridge will be crossed when we get there."

"True," the older mech nodded. "Centuries, if I understand correctly. Did you see anything else you wondered about?"

"Just impressed by all the mecha Dai Atlas has known through his existence." Wing returned his Great Sword to his back. "I did notice another swordsmech in a few of the pictures. Was he any good?"

Axe laughed, a rich, bright sound so at odds with his field of late. "Oh yes, Titanium is very good. So he's not someone you recognize? We were wondering if he might have trained here. Not that many styles use two swords."

"Titanium." Wing turned the designation over on his glossa. "It's not a designation I recognize. He might have been well before my time, or he might never have been here."

"True, he's an old mech," Axe nodded. "He was good company, though I hope we don't meet him again anytime soon."

"Because he's still in the military?" Wing hazarded a guess.

"Last we heard of him, yes," Axe nodded. "He's more likely than most to pretend he didn't see us, but it's as risk I'd rather not take. He's a good mech, just on the wrong side of the law from us at the moment."

Wing nodded. "I can see why you wouldn't want to meet him. At least not until after Nova is no longer Prime."

"And we've been pardoned by the new one, if that happens," Axe nodded. "Dai Atlas swears that Primes are like a pendulum. You get an aggressive, military, expansionalist one, and the next one will be about stabilizing, trade and rebuilding damage. Then you get another militant one. So there's hope that the next one will be sane, but it's never a sure thing."

Wing reached over to poke the black mech. "Don't jinx yourself. Just keep your fingers crossed. Primus willing, the next Prime will pardon you and Dai."

"Primus willing," Axe agreed. "It will be nice to fly again."

"I'd like to see you and Atlas fly," Wing agreed. "I'd like to fly with you." Slender white wings wiggled at the thought.

"We shall see," Axe nodded. "Was there anything else you'd like to know?" he motioned towards the holo-projector.

Wing was curious about the other files listed under the "DO NOT PLAY" heading, but he wasn't sure if he should mention that to the black mech, or if he should wait until he was alone again before poking at it himself. He eyed the projector for a moment, pondering.

"I do admit I'm curious about the other files Atlas had marked under 'Do Not Play'," the small white jet finally admitted. "Aurora told me to check everything."

"Just remember that you asked," Axe regarded him evenly even as he stood to activate the secured folders, beginning with the one that was pretty much self-explanatory: Pain.

The first capture that came up was a battlefield somewhere on Cybertron, or it looked to be Cybertron, at least, at some point in the distant past. The focal point was a mech, grayed in deactivation, with his chest exploded open.

The jet straightened, his armor ruffling. "Yes, I asked." His gold optics were serious as they met Axe's blue before turning back to the screen.

Slender wings twitched as Wing gazed at the dead mech. He scanned the image capture, looking for any captions or indications of who the mech had been.

There, the top left corner, a rank and designation glyph. Captain Steelcrest.

"His first serious lover," Axe supplied.

Wing hummed softly. "A loss that would have had a profound effect on him," the jet agreed, absently resting one hand on Axe's armor as the large mech sat back down. His attention remained on the projection as the next image came up.

"Yes, though a regrettably common one for our kind," Axe said, watching and nearly as curious as Wing. He's seen some of these images, been there for others and heard about more, but he'd never actually checked the folder out.

The next one, actually a series of six that transitioned quickly, had Wing twitter in confusion.

"Smelting what was left of Steelcrest after the useful parts had been stripped by the medics," Axe explained quietly. "There are those who do that as their function, but if a mecha mattered to you, you can put a request in to do so yourself. We did for those creations that we could retrieve the frames of."

"I can't imagine having to do that... But then, I've spent most of my life here, and I'm getting the feeling that, living within the Citadel, I have been very sheltered." Wing sat next to Axe, leaning against his arm. "Those image captures of the single mecha in the main file, with the activation and deactivation dates... Were those Atlas' creations?"

"Some. Others are mentors, SICs and TICs, mecha who made an impact on him in a good way," Axe said, thinking over the collection. "They're all mecha he wants to remember, so someone does." He paused, considering Wing. "How much do you study the history of theology and cultural studies?"

"I probably don't know as much as I should," Wing admitted. "I did study it to some degree before I arrived here. In the Citadel, mostly what we study is the history and culture of the Citadel and the Knights." He looked at the black mech curiously.

"Right, so the prevailing belief when Dai Atlas was created, at least among the military, was that a spark only continued to survive as long as someone living remembered who and what it was while it had a frame," Axe explained. "For warriors of his generation, the way you protected those important to you was to ensure that their designations were never forgotten."

The compact jet nodded slowly. "That makes sense... And it explains the extensive collection of image captures." He looked at the display, watching as several other images appeared.

He recognized the fundamentals of a funeral, even if it wasn't like any he'd seen before. It wasn't long before the captures and vids became repetitive in a way. The military had a formula on how to do everything, and it was followed to the glyph. Like the images of those who had been living, enjoying existence, the funerals, smelters and captures of gray and graying frames became strangely repetitive, almost numbing since Wing didn't have any connection to these mecha.

Wing didn't say much as the videos and image captures played out on the screen, maintaining a soft, sad hum in the back of his throat. This file did explain the loss and pain Dai Atlas had gone through during his first binding. Wing's spark ached for his Initiate, hoping he would be able to face and accept that pain. He x-vented slowly, settling slightly as they finished with the "pain" folder. The white jet eyed the remaining three choices. "What's in the folder marked Secured?"

"A guess is things that shouldn't be seen," Axe shrugged as he rolled forward to his pedes to access the menu once more. "That's what security is for."

Wing hummed his understanding, a knot of guilt twisting in his spark as Axe worked to get access to the folder. Eventually it opened, but not to play. Instead there was a list of files.

"Dai Atlas really should be the one doing this," Axe said uneasily. "I recognize the setup. Pick a wrong file and the system self-destructs."

White armor ruffled as Wing frowned at the list of files. "I'd rather not destroy the whole system... But I'm not sure if I could ask Dai Atlas about this. I've walked in on him looking through the main file more than once and he always shuts it off as soon as he notices me." The white jet chewed his lower lip slightly as he debated what to do next.

"He's being polite," Axe chuckled, shaking his helm. "You're his senior in rank. If he didn't give you his full attention when you came in he's flipping you off big time. That's a punishable offense in the military."

"I'm a lot more easy-going than most military mechs," Wing pointed out. He looked at the display again, clearly debating whether or not he should chance poking around if one wrong choice would cause the system to self-destruct.

"So's he. It doesn't make some basic social rules any less ingrained," Axe shrugged. "Have you ever told him he doesn't need to pause and give you his full attention?"

"Not yet," Wing admitted. "Something I'll have to do when he's finished his penance. The social rules are different here; it'll take time to adjust to either way."

"It will," Axe agreed as he backed out of the folder. "The first step is to be blunt about what is, and isn't, expected of him. Even at our rank the military is very blunt, in writing, about what is expected. Officers are a bit better than most since we're political as well, but we're still programmed to be very obedient to the law and orders."

The jet's attention was more on the larger mech than on the projector. Wing nodded as he accepted the advice. "I'll keep that in mind." He regarded the file directory. "What about the Maps file?"

Axe opened it to another listing of files, this one of designations. "Let's see, we have folders for bases, cities, planets, space navigation and other."

Wing's audial fins flared as he regarded the list. It was interesting to see just how many places his Initiate had been over the centuries. "What's in 'other'?"

Axe opened that folder and scanned the titles, then laughed. "His favorite bars and the medbays he's most likely to be loopy in."

Wing laughed, catching himself to make sure he didn't slide off the berth. "And there's another thing to adjust to... Knights don't get drunk. We do enjoy high-grade, but more for the taste than the effects. We don't get thoroughly plastered here." He braced himself, getting himself back under control, though the odd snicker still escaped.

"While it's been a favorite pastime for warriors since Prima's time," Axe shook his helm with a low chuckle. "It helps pass the time, numb pain of all kinds and makes it much easier to get to know the mecha you're going to depend on."

"In the Citadel, getting thoroughly plastered is frowned upon. It's against our rules. There's nothing against having a couple of drinks with friends as long as it doesn't go too far. And during our rare celebrations, such as when new Knights are brought into our ranks, high-grade is readily available to everyone." Wing fluttered his wings, settling them against his back neatly.

"We did notice," Axe nodded and dropped onto the berth again. "I don't think I've not been overcharged in this long ever."

Wing leaned against a black-armored side. "Is that a bad thing?"

Axe hummed. "I can't say it feels like a good thing. It's like not flying. We'll just have to get used to it. It's our existence now."

Wing patted Axe's arm. "It will take time, but you'll get used to it." He grinned. "And when Atl finally gets around to picking you as his Initiate, you'll be too busy to worry about it." Turning his attention to the projector, he began looking at some of the other maps the files contained, from cities to star maps and navigation charts.

"I'm sure," Axe chuckled. "It'll be basic training all over again, only one on one."

Wing chirred softly to himself as he went through the maps, occasionally asking Axe about some of the places the maps showed. It took him a breem or so to work his way through all the files, golden optics bright with curious interest.

"So many different places," the small jet murmured to himself as he finished looking at the last map. Then his nacelle pinions flared in surprise as the main folder began to play again, and what it started with this time drew a squeak from Wing's vocalizer and a deep, hungry rumble from Axe's entire frame.

"Damn, that was an intensely hot time," Axe's arousal flared through his field, nearly enveloping Wing and pressing in on his very spark.

Wing's field flared in response to Axe's, the semi-permanent arousal that was always in his field surging. The smaller mech whined softly. "I can imagine... You and Dai are very hot together." That was as good as an admission that Wing had been watching some of the other vids in the main folder.

"We know each other well." Axe trembled, debating with himself and his personal morals. It wasn't against the regulations here, but it had been so long since he'd strayed from his mate. It was so rare that they couldn't find enough time for each other. Right now he wanted to get off, badly. He wanted the feeling of a warm, willing frame under his to take his processor off the ache in his spark.

Wing backed up to sit on the berth next to Axe again, armor fluffing, wings twitching and wiggling against his back. As before, what he was watching was visibly winding him up. Another soft whine escaped, accompanying a squirm.

"You can say no," Axe's voice startled him nearly as much as the large black hand that spread across his chest and pressed him to lay back.

Wing yipped in surprise, the yip melting into a purr as he sank back onto the berth. Hearing Axe's words, Wing let out a soft laugh. "Why would I want to say no? As long as neither you nor Dai has any objections, neither do I." He reached up to touch dark armor, tracing the smooth surfaces of the plates and along the seams, exploring the contours of Axe's frame. His field pulsing invitingly against the larger mech's.

"We don't. It's just a rare time when we feel the desire to stray," Axe rumbled as he rolled to brace himself on top of the white jet. The first touch of their lips was almost hesitant, both feeling out the new dynamic and what was going to happen.

Wing's glossa flicked delicately against Axe's lower lip, gold optics meeting blue. The jet's smaller hands ran over the larger mech's chest, over his cockpit and up to his shoulders. White wings slowly flared out to their full span, quivering slightly.

"Such pretty little wings," Axe grinned before his glossa slid out to seek entrance into Wing's mouth. One hand shifted to stroke the offered wings as his spike cover slid back.

Wing's lips parted, granting access. He purred into the kiss, wings leaning into the stroking, offering the joints and smooth surfaces for petting. His valve cover almost popped open, the platelets glistening with lubricants. One dark hand ran along the curves of Axe's shoulder while the other rose to play with the spikes adorning the black and gold mech's helm.

Gently Axe drew back a bit and met Wing's optics. "Ever had a lover my size before?"

Wing hummed softly. "No one quite as big as you, but I have had lovers who were larger than I."

"Good," he rumbled, locking his arousal down to a level where he could take as much time as needed to get the smaller mech ready. A valve could stretch to incredible levels, but if it wasn't done gradually it could be intensely painful. The hand disappeared from Wing's wing to slip between them. Fingers played along hot, slick, relaxed platelets, teasing for a moment as he returned to kissing.

White wings fluttered at the loss of the contact, wiggling against the berth before settling, quivering all the way from tip to base. Wing moaned softly into the kiss as Axe's fingers ran over the platelets, hips squirming into the black mech's hand, the jet parting his legs farther to give Axe more access.

One large black finger, nearly the size of Wing's spike, pressed inside, stroking and testing. The white jet's valve was already thick with lubricant, almost dripping. He pressed back onto Axe's finger, calipers rippling down against the intruding digit. The addition of a second finger caused a shiver to run through Wing's frame, the jet letting out a soft cry that melted into a moan of bliss. He clung to Axe's frame, fingers gliding over armor seams, one hand still busy playing with Axe's helm spikes and audial flares.

Axe moaned, the movement of his fingers and the slick tightness around them driving his arousal higher until he was panting. "Ready?" he gasped out, almost desperate to sink his spike into the smaller mech.

"Take me," Wing purred in response, half-lidded optics gazing up into bright blue. He tilted his hips invitingly, wanting that gold-trimmed black spike to sink deep into his valve.

It was all Axe could stand. His fingers pulled out, curling slightly as they withdrew. "Whoever claims you will be a lucky mech," he rumbled, leaning down to kiss Wing as he slid his hips forward, sinking slowly into the slick tightness that was his mate's instructor.

Wing returned the kiss eagerly, his glossa exploring the larger mech's mouth. He gasped into the kiss as Axe's spike pushed through the platelets into his valve, his back arching, hips rolling into the slow thrust. The jet's legs came up, curling around Axe's hips, hands raking lightly down Axe's broad back as he was filled and stretched like no lover before.

Axe continued to press forward until the tip of his spike had stretched the top of Wing's valve fully and held there, shaking with need, almost fully sheathed. "Damn you're tight."

Wing keened softly, nipping at Axe's chin, venting heavily. He was so full, and it felt incredible. He shifted his hips, rubbing his plating against the black mech's, his fingers finding a transformation seam and slipping inside. "That feels so good..."

"Yesss," Axe groaned in agreement and shifted to balance more on his knees to keep a hand free to brace Wing's hips, holding him in place as he drew back, than slammed forward with a primal roar.

Wing clung to the larger mech's frame, his field awash with sheer bliss. He moved into each thrust as much as he could, hands busy in the seams between black armor plates, tilting his helm to nip along the cables of Axe's neck. Each thrust drew a soft moan of pure ecstasy from him.

Blue optics turned off and shutters closed as Axe lost himself in the slide, the heat, the tightness and the pleasure flaring across his circuits. This wasn't his mate, but it was a willing lover and it felt good to lose himself in the raw physical simplicity of this interface. He didn't have to think, only thrust and feel.

Gold optics flared almost white, staring unseeing over Axe's shoulder toward the ceiling. Wing's armor was fully puffed out, his cooling fans whining as they attempted to circulate enough air to cool his internals. The air around him shimmered with heat. Blissful moans, mews, and gasps escaped his vocalizer, his hips rolling into each thrust, taking Axe's spike in as deep as it could go.

Above him Axe's armor was also fluffed, aiding powerful fans and triple redundant systems designed to fight for orns without relief to cool his systems. Each thrust came with a grunt and crackle of energy until he slammed in hard, transfluid erupting from his spike to fill the scant space inside Wing's valve. It spilled out as Axe drew back and slammed in again.

Wing overloaded with a shriek, his back arching, pressing his chestplate against Axe's, their cockpits scraping together, helm thrown back. The calipers of his valve clamped down as much as they could on Axe's spike. Charge snapped and danced over white plating, arcing between the tips of his audial flares, crackling along the twitching lengths of his wings.

Axe's denta gritted, bared as he continued to thrust right thorough both their overloads, headless of the intensity. He wanted, needed to drive himself to the full oblivion of stasis recharge from interfacing. One full night of recharge was his goal more than the pleasure that would bring it.

Wing panted, feeling the charge start to build a second time. He dug his fingers into armor seams, wiggling into joints, stroking the circuitry and machinery underneath. The jet nipped at Axe's helm, rubbing his cheek against the larger mech's, leaving flecks of white paint behind and not even noticing.

He could feel the shift in feel of Axe's field, and somewhere in his processor he worked out what the larger mech needed. With a trill and kiss that was hardly noticed he willingly gave his frame over to the mech in need. It would be worth the soreness to give his Initiate's mate some much needed relief.

S=================== S

Processors booted readily enough, fast enough to notice that his frame wasn't nearly as willing to respond. Low fuel and energy warnings pinged, and several messages he needed to read, he wasn't with Dai Atlas, but he wasn't alone either.

Sprawled across Axe's frame was a smaller form, the slight vibration indicating that the mech was purring in their recharge. Wing was draped over Axe's chest, helm resting against a black shoulder, wings flopped open and twitching every now and then. Black paint scuffs showed in his white finish, and the scent of lubricant and transfluid still lingered in the air.

It was enough to place everything in order for Axe. With a faint smile he organized his frame enough to lift a hand to stroke the white jet's back, hoping that Wing's current contentment would hold once he woke up ... and that he wasn't damaged to the point that Hardwing would get involved.

The purr picked up, the recharging jet leaning into the touch. A klik later, Wing began to stir, moving slightly against Axe's armor before gold optics began warming up behind their shutters. The white mech yawned, then turned his helm until recharge-hazed gold optics met blue, Wing smiling at the larger mech while a contented hum threaded its way through the purr.

"Thank you," Axe rumbled, continuing to stroke Wing's back.

"You're welcome," the smaller mech replied, leaning forward to lightly kiss Axe's cheek, then settled back down. He stretched, making a brief face, before settling again and leaning into Axe's strokes.

"Just how sore are you?" Axe's field reached out to judge for himself, a skill that was invaluable both as the mate to a warrior and as a commanding officer.

"Not as bad as it could have been, and no damage my internal repair systems can't handle." Wing let his field merge with Axe's, his purr never letting up. "I'll probably be walking funny for a joor or so, but last night was worth it."

"I'm glad you think so," Axe smiled warmly, his thumb coming up to rub Wing's cheek. "I needed it. There's only so much blocking that can be done for a bond that's habitually held open."

"It was so very worth it." Wing leaned into Axe's hand, golden optics warm and contented. "I understand. I would be happy to help again, if you need it."

Axe hummed, then trilled softly. "I will come, if I need it," he promised. "I would not be surprised if I do before this penance is over. He has a long way to go yet," he sighed sadly. "It would be good if we can introduce Dai to someone who can do this for him, for when I face it. I know he's had lovers your size, but I don't think it would be good for you to try and take him in that state."

Wing smiled, rubbing his cheek against Axe's hand. "I will be here when you need me." The white jet made a soft sound. "It's a possibility, though it might take a little hunting."

"Yes, even if he wasn't picky we have a limited number of mechs to even consider," Axe murmured and let his optics turn off briefly. "How are your energy levels?"

Wing hummed as he checked his energy levels. "A little on the low side. How're yours?"

"Low," Axe admitted. "I've been burning through a lot lately."

Wing needed a moment to pry himself away from the petting. "I keep energon here in my quarters, including larger cubes for Dai." He slid off the berth, holding onto the edge to keep his balance. After a moment, he moved out into the main room to where he kept the energon. When he returned, he carried two larger cubes for Axe and two smaller for himself, offering the larger cubes to the black triple changer.

"Thank you," Axe accepted them only to set them aside to pick Wing up and settle him on the berth. "Have you ever met an interface you didn't enjoy?" he asked teasingly before making short work of his first cube.

Wing grinned, puffing up proudly as he leaned against Axe. "Nope, I never have. Ask any of the other Knights. I've never met a pleasure I didn't want to indulge in." Gold optics sparkled over the edge of the cube as he took a sip.

The big mech just laughed and began to drink his second cube more sedately now that he didn't have his secondary tank flashing warnings at him. "They must have missed you when you were out and about."

The white jet chuckled. "Quite a few mechs missed me while I was on walkabout. Some of them lost no time in tracking me down when I got back." Putting his empty cube down, he picked up the second, leaning against the warmth of Axe's torso and trilling happily at the welcoming field he felt.

With a smile Axe slid an arm around him, lightly rubbing Wing's side as they refueled. "Do you have one you'd prefer to get all that black off you?"

"I don't have any real preference," Wing replied, leaning against him and purring softly at the stroking. Raising a hand, he traced a matching streak of white on Axe's chestplate. "You help me, and I'll help you?"

"It sounds good to me," Axe smiled down at him fondly.

S=================== S

One orn turned to two, which turned to six, then fourteen. That continued to a full decaorn, then two.

Vanguard, Sovereign of the Light, couldn't even express his relief when Dai Atlas finally sobbed softly as a sound of release rather than grief sixty-six full orns into his penance binding.

The big Seeker stretched, flexing his wings before moving closer to Dai Atlas, extending his field to brush against the former General's. Drawing a small knife from its hiding place, he used his field to ask if Dai Atlas was ready to be released.

The response was shaky, coherent thought not really something Dai Atlas could manage at the moment, but it was also calm and clear: yes.

Vanguard took the precaution of summoning Hardwing as he used the knife to cut the bindings, catching the blue mech as Dai Atlas slumped backward. The large mech's hands were a faded gray, as was the armor of his forearms, the metal cold to the touch.

"You have done very well," the Seeker murmured, though he wasn't sure if Dai Atlas could actually hear him.

A sound came from Dai Atlas, though it was incoherent at best. Only his field revealed any level of comprehension, and that was unlikely to be from the words, but from Vanguard's field.

The door opened as Vanguard lay Dai Atlas on the ground. "What a mess," Hardwing grumbled, Redline right behind him with the hover-stretcher.

"He has been bound for over sixty-six orns," Redline pointed out. "Two thousand, seven hundred and seventy-four joors."

Vanguard looked up as the two came in. "Get him to the medical bay and see what needs to be done. His arms and hands have been without power or energon for the entire duration of the binding, and he has been on an energon I.V. as well, so he has not properly eaten either."

The Sovereign helped lift Dai Atlas' bulk onto the hover-stretcher, retrieving his Great Sword and following the two medics to the medical bay.

New traveled fast that this near-record binding was over, drawing curious Knights to see the results on both Initiate and Sovereign. It was Aurora who actually dared approach as they neared the medbay.

"Did he break or heal?" she asked calmly, regarding the mech who'd lost much of his blue to gray.

"He healed," Vanguard answered, pride in his voice. "Dai Atlas has made an important step forward." White optics swept over the gathering Knights. "Wing and Axe will find out shortly that the binding is over, though Axe probably already knows."

"I do," Axe's voice was shaking as his large black and gold frame appeared in the doorway, Wing a step behind him and Atl a couple paces further back. "Can you repair the damage?" He focused on Hardwing.

The chief medic nodded. "I can repair him. It might take a few joors, but he will be fine." He looked at Wing. "And you will let him rest for another couple of orns before you resume his training. Light training only for half a decaorn, until he gets his strength back."

Wing nodded, fluttering his wings. "Message received."

Axe was more focused on his mate and just how much gray was there. He stepped up to the helm of the hover-stretcher and placed a hand firmly on each of his mate's shoulders, lowering his helm to touch forehelms. Soft shushing sounds came as he calmed his mate. The pain and loss of function was beginning to register.

Wing hovered closer, golden optics taking in the grayed blue plating. One hand snuck out to touch Dai Atlas' much larger hand. Hardwing shooed the small jet away, glancing at the black and gold mech as he and Redline guided the hover-stretcher to the medberth for mecha Dai Atlas' size. For now a calm patient was more useful than shooing the mate away.

"Ready to move him?" Axe glanced at the medics, ready to assist. "I'm a fully trained field medic."

Hardwing gave the black and gold triple changer a long look, then nodded. "Yes, we're ready to move him. You may stay, but everyone else has to clear out." He glared pointedly at the other Knights crowding the doorway. "That includes you, Wing. One of us will let you know when he's repaired and conscious."

Wing blinked at Hardwing, then nodded, backing off. Vanguard watched for a moment, then began herding the crowd back out of the medbay.

"Wing, come with me," Vanguard spoke to the smaller jet, motioning him to continue outside so they could fly while they spoke.

Wing nodded, following the Seeker out of the medical bay. Flaring open his wings, nacelles revving to full power, Wing lifted off, hovering above the balcony as Vanguard lifted off.

The pair transformed and began to circle upward in a relaxed pattern of two fast fliers out to enjoy their wings.

"Your Initiate did very well," Vanguard began, not hiding his pride at what he had witnessed. "The scale of what he endured, grappled with, accepted and overcame has broken full Master Knights."

"He's a strong mech," Wing agreed. "Dai Atlas will make a fine Knight once his training is finished." The young white jet barrel-rolled once, then settled in next to Vanguard.

"Yes he will," the Sovereign agreed. "You chose well in him. He has much he can teach you, just as you have much to teach him. Train him well and he will help you evolve as a mech for a long time to come."

Wing's chirr of agreement was audible even over the sound of their engines. "I will," the younger mech replied. "I look forward to learning what he has to teach me."

"Good," he rumbled in approval, a tone that was often difficult to earn. "Because of his history and age, this is unlikely to be the first unpleasant surprise. He does well in functioning, but so much of his past has not been dealt with the way we insist it be dealt with. Come to me, or Aurora or Marwir if you do not understand how to help him. We have all spent far more than a walkabout in the outside world and are old enough to understand how pain festers."

Wing would have nodded had he been in his bipedal form. Instead, he waggled short wings in acknowledgement. "There's a lot of pain in his past; I'm well aware that this situation most likely will be coming up several more times at the least. You'll likely be seeing a lot of me asking for advice in the future."

"Good," Vanguard hummed in strong approval. "He is your Initiate, but we all help guide every Initiate to Knight, whether the Initiate realizes it or not. You should be aware that several of us are debating whether Axe should remain a Supplicant until Dai Atlas is further in his training so only one of them is likely to have this kind of binding at a time. Their bond is old, strong and open. As you have seen, when one is this distressed the other will have great difficulty with the kind of training we do."

Wing hummed. "I have noticed; I helped Axe deal with what was coming through the bond, and I know he spent time with Atl as well. Dai Atlas would be harder to deal with in that position. It's something Axe and I were making note of while waiting out Dai Atlas' penance."

"What qualities do you need in the one to help your Initiate?" Vanguard asked, his processors going over the few things Wing wouldn't believe he could handle.

"A mech much larger than I am, larger than even Atl," Wing replied promptly, his whole frame giving a little wiggle in the air. "With a heavier frame. But I don't think that's what you meant."

"He needs an interface partner that he can let go with," Vanguard translated smoothly. "Axe agrees with this?"

"Axe is the one who brought it up," Wing replied. "And he told me that neither of them objected to Axe interfacing with me while Dai was undergoing his penance. A larger mech, Knight or civilian, who agrees to help. Dai is a bit picky, Axe mentioned."

Vanguard wiggled his wings in understanding and thought of that. "There is a new Supplicant that might suit, if they get along. Shogun. He is slightly shorter than Axe, and fairly easy-going. Not unlike you in his enjoyment of interfacing."

Wing flicked his wings. "I haven't met him yet, but he sounds like a nice mech to get to know."

"I'm sure you'll enjoy each other's company," Vanguard chuckled and swung around to gradually weave towards the Citadel's main tower. "It would be advantageous if Dai Atlas and Axe work out with you, Atl and Shogun how to handle the bindings. They will be common for some time, I expect."

"I have no doubt of that," Wing replied. "I'll track Shogun down later." The smaller white jet looped lazily around Vanguard before settling back into position on the Sovereign's wing.

"Do you wish to view your Initiate's penance?" Vanguard asked as they circled in for a landing.

"I would," Wing answered. He transformed, touching down neatly and waiting for the Seeker to join him.

Once Vanguard settled, he offered Wing a data cable. "Use the time he is recovering well."

The white jet nodded as he accepted the cable, plugging it into his dataport. "I will."