Archive of Our Own ^beta

Once there was a high king whose creation was the most beautiful, most skilled flier on Cybertron. However, this creation, whose name was Starscream, was as proud as proud could be and never would listen to his creator. His creator wanted him to marry and make a strong alliance, but Starscream wouldn’t have anything to do with anyone his creator suggested. Frustrated, his creator invited every single eligible member of royalty and the nobility that his kingdom wasn’t actively at war with, plus some mecha who were simply wealthy, in one last effort to have Starscream make a choice. Those that came were all lined up for Starscream’s perusal in the great hall, with the high king’s Council in attendance for the Council had to approve Starscream’s choice.

The Council had all been on the wrong side of Starscream’s tongue themselves at some point or another and were more than ready to approve anyone who’d get him out of their turbines.

Starscream stalked along the line of potential spouses and had something nasty to say about each one of them. One was too short and another too thin, one had too pale a paint scheme and another a paint scheme that would clash with his own, and so on. The last, a warlord from Kaon, was too much of a hulking brute and wrote poetry the prince was sure was pretentious. Starscream found something petty to complain about with each one and so, rejected and yet relieved, they all left.

The king was thoroughly frustrated with his creation, and so was his Council. The king and his Council all tried to convince Starscream to make some manner of choice, but he would not. Finally, frustrated, they came to an agreement and said to Starscream “since you don't choose, we shall choose for you. You’ll be married to the first commoner to enter the Great Hall the next time your creator holds court to hear petitions.”

Well, Starscream plotted, and he schemed, and he did everything he could to stop his creator holding such a court, but with no success. The day of the court came, and the first petitioner into the Great Hall was an even worse prospect than Starscream had expected, a Disposable-class miner with the hi-viz markings and scars of his labours still on his armour.

“Well, creation of mine,” said his creator on seeing the miner, “here is your spouse and may he be pleased with you.”

The miner said, flatly, “what,” but no one was listening to him.

Starscream threw a fit but no matter how he raged and how many objects he threw his creator wouldn’t change his mind.

“Here,” his creator said to the miner. “I give you a pouch of gold and, by the decree of myself and my Council, Prince Starscream as your spouse.”

The miner said, “this is exactly the kind of unjust decrees I came to protest,” but no one could hear him over Starscream’s shrieks even if they’d tried to listen.

Starscream finally saw he wasn’t getting anywhere and flounced out of the castle. His creator had at least provided them with transport to take them to the miner’s home, and Starscream flung himself sulkily into one of the seats.

“Well, that didn’t go at all the way I expected,” said the miner thoughtfully. “Still, I’m sure I can work with this.”

“You can ‘work with this?’” shrilled Starscream. “What do you mean this! I am Prince Starscream, tyrant of the firmament! I am not a-a tool!”

“Quiet,” the miner said, a little absently. “I’m thinking.”

Starscream spluttered in outrage, but the miner ignored him, and he gave up and watched the scenery go by as they left his creator’s kingdom.

“Whose cable-jungle is this?” he asked as they went through one, though he would not look at his spouse.

“The warlord you called a hulking brute at the ball lays claim to it,” the miner said. Starscream got the same answer about a field of crystals, a lake of mercury, and the city they entered near the end of the day.

Starscream sniffed. “I should have chosen him. At least his finish had some potential to it.” He’d been big and strong in the way Starscream liked, too. Moreover, it would have been his own choice. Not having had that hurt him more than he wanted to admit, even to himself.

“I’m not too pleased with being saddled with you, either,” the miner ground out.

Starscream, done with sulking and ready to be angry again, whipped around to tear down the pretentious peasant only to see, in place of the scuffed miner, the very warlord he’d just said he regretted not choosing.

“An illusion charm,” the warlord said by way of explanation, without needing to be prompted.

“You-you - !” Starscream spluttered, unable to even find words in his fury. Megatron didn’t yet know him well enough to appreciate what a rare thing this was.

“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t you that I meant to fool,” the warlord said, reasonably. “How was I to know your creator would declare a random mech your spouse? He didn’t even ask my designation before paying me off and shoving us out the door.”

That was true, and Starscream couldn’t decide with whom he ought to be angriest. “You could have told me this earlier!”

“I dispelled the illusion as soon as we left your creator’s borders,” the warlord said drily. “It’s hardly my fault you’d rather look out the window and sulk than engage in a civil conversation. It was quite clear you didn’t want to talk, which I accept, for now, given your current circumstances – but Starscream I warn you, tread carefully on my good will.”

The warlord was large and powerful – which Starscream liked - and known to have a temper – which he didn’t. Starscream was hotheaded, but no fool, and wisely veered back into good manners.

“Forgive me, my lord, I was upset. Understandably, as you say,” he said politely. “What is your designation, my spouse?”

“I am Megatron,” the warlord said. “Welcome, Prince Starscream, to Kaon.”

Warlord Megatron brought Starscream to his home, a blocky, utilitarian fortress standing atop a hill overlooking the city. The inside was just as plain as the outside, nothing like the luxury Starscream had left behind, and very little was given over to habitation. Starscream disliked it on sight, but he was tired, hungry, and doubted he’d find a decent hotel at this hour, so he went in. There weren’t any servants and so Starscream had to get himself energon and clean up after himself, too. Dinner was a silent affair and, afterwards, Megatron waved him off, saying he had to work.

“There’s a spare room with a bed that should fit your wings down the hall. Make yourself at home, my prince.”

Starscream would have refused to leave, just on principle, now that he had permission, but he’d made it too obvious he didn’t want to stay in Megatron’s company. So, he went, but he made it clear he wasn’t happy about it.

The room did have a bed big enough for Starscream’s wings to fit, as promised, but that was all he could say for it. It was nothing like the luxury he’d left behind, but Starscream supposed he could bear it for a few days. Surely his creator would be more reasonable once he had had a chance to calm down. Then Starscream could get this ridiculous marriage decree annulled and go back to living as he was accustomed.

There were datapads with some of Megatron’s poetry on them left lying carelessly on a shelf in that room. Starscream read them out of curiosity and was surprised and irritated to find they weren’t at all pretentious but rather good. Not that he had any intention of admitting that to Megatron.

Starscream read through all the datapads that night, and the next day had nothing to do. He supposed that without servants he’d have to clean sooner or later, but Megatron’s dwelling was so spartan there was nothing that yet needed doing.

“Do as you like,” Megatron said when Starscream complained. “Be back by nightfall, however. You’re too obviously a noble; you’ll be a target on the streets of Kaon at night. The political fallout of an attack on you would be a detriment to my plans.”

Starscream was somewhat more concerned about the fallout of an attack on himself but had no intention of being on the streets in any fashion. He found a way up to the battlements of the fortress and took himself aloft. He spent the day in flight, mapping out the air currents over Kaon and the surrounding lands. Soon, and without meaning to, he found himself at the border of his creator’s kingdom. Before he could cross, had he wanted to, of course, three of his creator’s Seekers blocked his way.

“You must turn back,” the first Seeker informed him. “The border is closed to you.”

Now, Starscream had not wanted to enter the kingdom, not yet, but deciding for himself it wasn’t time and being told he could not were two different things entirely. Immediately he wanted nothing more than to fly over the land of his construction.

“I am Prince Starscream, and I fly where I wish!” he declared arrogantly.

“We know who you are,” the second Seeker replied, “and you fly here no longer. The king has forbidden it.”

The third Seeker said nothing but brought his weapons online in warning. Starscream said nothing more but committed their RFIDs to memory for the day he was able to return and teach them a lesson, before turning and bringing himself back to Megatron’s fortress.

Starscream was in a foul mood when he returned to his new and – hopefully – temporary spouse and home.

“I told you to be back by sunset,” Megatron, stood looking out a window with his hands clasped behind his back, said to Starscream when he walked in. Seeing him in silhouette only illustrated how big and powerful he was. “That was twenty kliks ago.”

“I wasn’t on the streets,” Starscream informed him haughtily. “I was flying and am hardly defenceless besides.”

“And where did you fly?” Megatron inquired. “Home, I suppose?” Starscream had begun his retort but at this quickly cancelled it. “Did it not work out as expected?”

Starscream looked away. “I am forbidden to cross the border,” he admitted reluctantly, “by order of the king.”

Megatron nodded as if he’d expected as much. “Your creator seeks to teach you humility and will likely not permit your return until he thinks you’ve learned that lesson. A pity: he should have seen your intelligence and cunning instead.”

Well, Starscream liked flattery and especially flattery he deserved. He had meant to pick a fight but changed his mind.

“Indeed, my lord, as you have,” he said ingratiatingly.

“Indeed,” Megatron said drily, not fooled for a nano-klik, and continued. “You have been done an injustice. One not as great as those suffered by others less fortunate in those who requested their sparks, but an injustice nonetheless.” He turned, looking at Starscream over his shoulder. “My question is this: would you like to help me do something about it?”

Starscream found himself drawn toward the warlord without even thinking about it. “What did you have in mind?”

“It’s very simple, my dear Starscream,” Megatron said. His optics narrowed, and he smiled, showing his very sharp teeth. “We give your creator what he wants.”

While Starscream very much wanted to ‘do something’ about the injustice he was suffering, he was less than pleased with Megatron’s idea of how to go about it. Still, he had no better ideas himself and so when Megatron brought him two crates of ceramic drinking wares and told him to go to the market and sell one of them he only insulted the plan a few times before he went.

By the time Starscream had gotten to the market and set up his wares, he had moved on from being angry at his creator and Cybertron in general to feeling sorry for himself. He was so handsome and looked so sad that the market-goers bought all the ceramics from him before midday. He did backhand one mech who tried to take liberties, but that was the only time he displayed anything that could perhaps be called a show of his pride.

The next day was much the same: Starscream sat in the marketplace with the second crate’s worth of goods. At the agreed-upon time, Megatron in a disguised alt came through and scattered and broke all the ceramics. Starscream looked sadder than ever, making as if he were cleaning up the pieces (though pushing them out of the way so others would have to deal with them later) and saying sadly how disappointed his spouse would be at his failure.

Well, Megatron was anything but disappointed.

“You played your part perfectly, Starscream,” he praised. “Are you ready to begin the next stage?”

“I am ready for anything that brings me closer to my goal!” Starscream ground out.

“Your goal, Starscream?” Megatron asked, looming over him. Starscream tried not to notice how pleasingly broad his shoulders were.

“I-I meant our goal, my lord, of course!” Starscream said quickly. “Which I’m sure will be achieved thanks to your plan.”

Megatron gave Starscream a look that suggested he could see right through him but continued as if Starscream hadn’t said anything. “Excellent. Then tomorrow we will relocate to the border fortress and execute the remainder of the plan as discussed.”

Megatron and Starscream moved to a fortress near to the border of Kaon and Starscream’s home. It was larger than the hilltop fortress in the city proper and thus better suited to Megatron’s plan. The part Starscream had to play - that of a humble kitchen servant - meant he didn’t see much of it, however, even at night when he stole up to Megatron’s suite to confirm everything proceeded on schedule. They spoke of other things, too. The warlord was intelligent and cunning, also, and Starscream had quickly come to realize that he’d meant what he said in the transport; he should have chosen the warlord. Of course, he’d had no way of knowing that at the time.

And most of the poetry his fellow nobles wrote really was pretentious. How was he to have known?

“So you like it after all, do you?” Megatron asked in amusement when Starscream let a favourable comment on his work slip one night.

“It-it has merit,” Starscream said stiffly. “The meter is good.”

“Oh? Shall I write some for you, then?”

“I – well – I-I suppose I couldn’t stop you if you did,” Starscream stammered and quickly changed the subject.

So, the nights were pleasant, but he liked the days, when he worked in the fortress kitchens, much less. Even the other servants didn’t know who he was, and some of them were very forward. The first time one of the footmechs tried to steal a kiss, Starscream gave him such an audial full no one ever tried again.

“As well you should,” Megatron growled when Starscream complained of the treatment that night. “No one touches what is mine.”

Starscream’s spark gave a fast spin. “And am I yours, my lord?”

“What do you think?” Megatron demanded, closing the distance between them.

Megatron didn’t have to steal a kiss. Starscream gave it willingly.

Starscream worked as a servant for a half-deca-cycle, long enough for word to reach his creator. Then the announcement was sent out that the Warlord of Kaon was to take a spouse, though the announcement and the invitations did not give their designation. The high king and every member of royalty and the nobility plus certain wealthy mecha received invitations to the ceremony.

The day came, and still, no one knew the name of the warlord’s intended. Once everyone had gathered in the Great Hall, and all were expecting an introductory procession, Starscream waited by the servants’ entrance in the back. Anyone looking would have thought he was only a kitchen servant stealing a peek at the quality. Soon, Megatron took his place on the dais, and everyone waited expectantly, but no fine spouse did they see. The crowd waited and waited and soon began to murmur and wonder aloud where the other mech was and when they would come.

At last, Megatron singled out Starscream’s creator – who was already the warlord’s creator-in-law though he didn’t know it – and asked of him if he wanted to see Megatron’s intended. Of course, the king said he did, and so Megatron said he would bring him out. To everyone’s surprise, he went not to the entrance of the hall but the little servants’ door at the back. He took Starscream’s hand and drew him out for all to see.

“Here is my intended,” Megatron announced. “Your creation whom you sought to break of pride. Wearing a glamour, I was the unknown miner who came to your court, and I have been wed to your creation since then.”

Starscream, looking every bit as proud as he had the day he’d left his creator’s kingdom, strutted, on Megatron’s arm, down to the floor where his creator stood.

“Now, then,” Megatron said, pleasantly enough, putting his right hand on the king’s shoulder so that worthy could not miss the mighty cannon on his arm. “As your heir is my spouse, perhaps we can discuss some…changes to your methods of rule.”

Starscream latched on to Megatron’s arm and smirked triumphantly. The king stared up at Megatron with wide optics and slowly nodded.

“I – believe it possible to make some alterations to current laws,” the king said faintly.

“Excellent,” Megatron purred and turned to Starscream. “Now, then, shall I give you a better wedding than we had before?”

Well, Starscream would like nothing better and not only because he wanted to be the centre of attention most of the time. So, they were wed again, formally this time, and there was much rejoicing and celebration as none of us are like to see again.