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Jazz had been called forth from Vector Sigma as the third creation of a wealthy merchant of Harmonex. His two elder siblings were already renowned as musical, intelligent, and attractive. Jazz was no less so and, said the many admirers he gained upon his maturity, perhaps even more as he was also kind and charitable. These admirers swiftly became many, and as they were drawn to the kind and cheerful young mech, their admiration was drawn from the Prime, Sentinel, who ruled from on high in Iacon. Sentinel was a jealous mech, no matter the persona he attempted to put on in public, and he almost immediately became offended once he learned of this. He sent the very head of his personal security, and a mighty lord in his own right, designated Prowl, to infect the young mech with a virus that he may fall in love with something or someone hideous at first sight.
Prowl was a mech with a strong sense of justice, however, and, while he followed Sentinel's orders to go to Harmonex, he had no desire to infect anyone. Certainly, Jazz had not acted with intent to draw admirers from the Prime and Prowl did not believe revenge should be taken on him. Even less did Prowl wish to carry out his Prime's orders when he laid his optics on his quarry. Instead, Prowl saw that Jazz, while polite and kind to each of his admirers, was doing nothing to encourage them to worship him. Prowl mingled with the admirers and the towns-mecha and learned nothing to make him think poorly of the young mech. There was no doubt in Prowl's mind that while no one was deserving of the fate Sentinel wished for Jazz, Jazz deserved it least of all. And so Prowl, aware that an unpleasant audience awaited him at the very least, went back to Sentinel Prime and told him he had little to worry about.
"It is not worth the risk of the virus being discovered and traced back to you," Prowl soothed his Prime. "The admirers will soon grow tired of the young mech, realizing he is little more than a pretty face, and return to you."
Prowl disliked lying, but there were times it was necessary, and it did work, salving Sentinel's bloated pride. Saving such a lovely mech from the needless vengeance of a jealous Prime certainly counted. Jazz deserved to be happy, and if this was something Prowl could do to ensure that happiness, he would.
Time passed, and misfortune fell upon Jazz's creator, resulting in the loss of his fortune. Jazz's elder siblings were greatly distressed and bemoaned that they should have no more fine things.
"We've got everything we need," Jazz pointed out, not only because it was true but because he could see his creator was distressed at his creations' unhappiness. "And more. We've got plenty of stuff already, plus a roof over our heads and fuel. Besides, Creator made a fortune once, and he can do it again."
Jazz's creator was touched by his youngest's faith Jazz did all he could to make his creator's life easier, taking over many household tasks and even some minor business duties. His siblings, meanwhile, sought to make advantageous marriages and use their spouse's wealth to live as they had become accustomed. But without their creator's wealth, their other charms seemed not to suffice. After a stellar-cycle, their wealth had not increased much, and none of the three creations had found a suitor. Worrying that they had somehow incurred the wrath of the Guiding Hand and it was this keeping them in their current states, their creator went to the Temple of Primus. There he engaged a soothsayer, wishing to learn when, and how, this should ever end. The soothsayer cast her runes and gave him this reading:
"Your fortunes will improve once your youngest has wed, but," she cautioned, "he is destined to wed no mere merchant, no trades-mech, or even a lesser peer. Instead, he will be claimed by a powerful yet mysterious lord whose persuasions no Prime nor demon of the Undergrid can resist. The lord's missive shall arrive soon, and the marriage contract requires only Jazz's signature. He may travel to the lord's home on his own or with the transport the lord shall send to meet him on Mount Helix, but this is what fate has decreed."
The creator was distressed by this but, holding a policy of always being honest with his creations, so relayed Jazz's doom. Jazz was silent for a long moment, thinking on this, and then hugged his creator to reassure him.
"We all know it's no use fighting fate," Jazz said sorrowfully. He had no desire to wed a mech of whom he knew nothing, but if the soothsayer had seen it, surely it could not be avoided. "I've had it pretty easy so far, and I guess this is to balance it all out. When the missive comes, I shall sign the contract and leave with his messenger."
Nothing anyone could say would change Jazz's mind, and he was told that no matter what happened or how powerful the lord was, he would always have the love and protection of his family. The missive arrived within cycles and included directions to the place Jazz must leave his family and go to this unknown spouse. And so Jazz was detailed, given the use of the last of their finest polish, and he and his family went to Mount Helix. They did not have to wait long before a sleek Zephyr-class transport came into view, landing and extending a boarding ramp. Jazz boarded, afraid and yet curious to see his bridegroom, but the transport was empty. Turning before the door closed, he smiled at his creators, hoping to reassure them, but as the door slid shut, his smile fell.
"Hello?" he tried, but there was no answer. Either he was alone, the transport had been ordered not to speak with him, or the transport was not sapient. Jazz explored the cabin. There was not much to see, but neither was the journey long, and the transport soon landed.
Jazz left the transport and found himself in a beautiful crystal garden, with a mercury river flowing through it. The garden was expansive, and the day had been stressful and demanding on the young mech's emotions. Sitting down in a quiet area by the stream, Jazz soon fell asleep.
When he awoke, refreshed and recharged, he again rose and began to explore. His explorations led him to a circle of tall, clear crystals and in the centre of this grove was a fountain filled with silvery gallium that rose high and splashed musically back down. Behind the fountain, through the crystals of the grove, he saw a magnificent palace. The façade was so magnificent that Jazz wondered if it were the Prime himself or perhaps one of the Guiding Hand, who had desired to take him as a spouse. Ever curious, Jazz entered the building and looked around. The inside was no less opulent than the outside: pillars gleaming with electrum supported a roof so vast a Guardian surely might stand below it. The walls were etched and enamelled with scenes from Cybertron's history, leading the observer deeper into the palace as they followed the story. As Jazz explored the vast building, he saw rooms filled with fine furnishings and many beautiful pieces of art and other treasures. But the best, to his optics, and his immediate favourite, was the music room that contained high-quality instruments equal to, or better than, those he had left in Harmonex.
While he was admiring the instruments, a mech painted in servant's livery approached him and bowed.
"Fair greetings, Lord Jazz, I am Iatris, the major-domo of this palace. Myself and all the servants are pledged to obey your commands as we would our very master's. You may rest in your apartment," and here Jazz was pinged a map with his apartments marked upon it, "and the oil bath can be warmed in short order if you wish it. When you are ready, simply speak your desire, and your evening fuel will be brought to you."
"Thank you, Iatris," Jazz said with a smile, for even if it had not been his natural inclination, he had been raised to be polite regardless of the other's station. "Please, if you would tell me my intended's name? And where I might find him?"
"His name is not mine to give, by my lord's order," Iatris said apologetically. "Nor is he here, presently. He is away in Iacon, as he often is, though he sends his apologies. He thought, perhaps, you might feel more at ease had you time to accustom yourself to the house before meeting him."
Jazz had not wanted to marry, but he couldn't help feeling disappointed upon learning his intended was not even present to welcome him, no matter the reason. Still, this was not the fault of the major-domo, so Jazz again thanked him for the information and went to his apartments to rest.
The apartments, consisting of a private parlour, a study, and a bedchamber with an attached washracks, were no less luxurious than the public rooms had been. Beautiful, yes, but impersonal as if they had been decorated but not for a specific person. Jazz wondered if he might be permitted to adjust it to his own tastes or if he would be expected to accept it as it was, like a bird in a beautiful cage. He wondered how much freedom he might have.
But these were things that could not be learned, not truly, until he spoke with the lord of this place and who knew when that might be?
A door in the bedchamber connected it to another's, and Jazz guessed this must be the bedchamber of the palace's master. Jazz disliked the idea that a mech he had not so much as met would have access to his most private room, but he discovered only he had access upon checking the lock. Jazz could enter the other bedchamber as he pleased, but that room's occupant could not enter his. It was some reassurance as to the mysterious lord's intentions, and yet…
Troubled, Jazz could not fall asleep again so soon after his nap in the garden, but neither could he clear his mind. Instead, he took to the halls, wandering the palace as Iatris said he might. He explored everything, even the kitchens and the steward's pantry, seeing that even those were well cared for. But, at last, he found himself again in the music room and selected an instrument to play. The instrument he chose was a fine keyboard, such as he had not had even in the days of plenty, and Jazz soon lost himself in the music. Even as the sun set, he did not rise, as the lights brightened, and he had no cause to notice the time passing. He had begun to play cheerful songs but soon found himself playing mournfully, soft, sad notes spilling out around him. It was only when he became aware he was being watched from the doorway that he stopped, raising his head and beholding a mech that could only be his intended for the first time.
The mech he saw stood tall and proud, evidently having come from outside, for he still wore an acid-rain-proof cloak with the hood pulled up over his helm. Jazz could see his icy blue optics and the strong line of his jaw, and little else of his faceplates. No servant had such a mien, and Jazz knew it could only be the lord for whom he was fated.
"Why do you play so sadly?" the lord wanted to know, piercing gaze fixed firmly on Jazz. "Does my home displease you so?"
"Not at all, my lord," Jazz answered, rising to go to him. "Your home is exquisite, and I can see I will want for nothing. I only – " Here Jazz hesitated, for he feared that what he wished to say would cause offence. He had agreed to this, and he had signed the contract; he would have to find a way to live with this mech somehow.
"You may speak the truth," his lordship said. "You may always speak the truth to me, Jazz of Harmonex."
"It is only that I had so little time to prepare," Jazz said hesitantly. "And, I left so quickly, and I know nothing of you or-or what you expect from me. I don't even know your name."
The lord lifted one hand, exposing a black-and-white paint scheme, as if he meant to touch Jazz's face, then let it fall.
"I am Prowl. And you have nothing to fear from me. I have brought you here to keep you safe."
Prowl had not elaborated upon his statement but invited Jazz to take evening fuel with him in his private dining room. Jazz was still polished for his wedding and did not need to be detailed for the appointment, though it seemed not to matter: Prowl had removed the cloak, showing a handsome fact but had no more than a daily-wear polish. He did not look like a mech who had prepared to meet his new spouse.
Jazz was given a plate of delicate treats and a crystal cube of midgrade of the highest quality. Prowl had only a simple silver cube for himself, and he sipped it slowly. Jazz nibbled at his treats but had little appetite.
"You deserve an explanation," Prowl said finally, after a long few kliks of silence. "Why you were chosen and summoned here to…me."
"The soothsayer said it was my fate," Jazz said.
"And mine," Prowl said.
"What did you mean when you said you brought me here to keep me safe?" Jazz wanted to know, for he had never been in danger and could not imagine what Prowl meant.
"The music room was not the first time I saw you," Prowl said, seeming to abruptly change the subject. ."I observed you once, some few stellar-cycles ago, on the command of our Prime."
Jazz frowned, putting a treat back down on his plate untasted. "Why would our Prime send you to watch me?"
"Sentinel Prime is a very jealous mech, and he became envious of the admirers you gained," Prowl explained. "He felt that many of them abandoned worship of him in favour of you, and he wished me to take revenge, to infect you with a virus to make you fall in love with someone or something hideous. I could not."
"Have you been watching me since then?" Jazz asked, feeling disquieted at the thought.
But Prowl shook his head. "No. No, I left and did my best to convince Sentinel you were no danger to him. I did think of you on occasion, but I took no action to seek you out or to seek out information about you."
"Then…why am I here now?" Jazz pressed. "You said it was to keep me safe. Safe from what? Or who?" The soothsayer had said, his creator had told him, that no Prime or demon of the Undergrid could fail to be persuaded by his intended's words, and if that was true, it was not the Prime, but…
"Sentinel was persuaded by my words," Prowl said, not meeting Jazz's optics, "but others were not aware he was. They knew only that Sentinel was jealous of you and did not want to incur his wrath. Many are wealthy or influential, and thus they withdrew their favour from any dealings with your creator, lest word reach Sentinel and they receive the same from him. Your admirers did not decrease, and some began to speak of darker things. Here, wed to me, you cannot be seen as a threat and may even be seen as favoured. Furthermore, our marriage will confer prestige on your family: I am ranked quite highly in the Prime's court as the head of his security."
Jazz's spark slowed its spin in despair as he listened to Prowl's words, and, unthinking, he pushed away from the table as if to leave.
"I've distressed you," Prowl said, setting down his cube. "I apologize. It was not – it will never be – my intent, but nor will I ever lie to you."
Jazz stood up, his chair rocking as if it were about to fall and then stabilizing. "I-I'm sorry. I have to…"
Prowl stood up as well, once again reaching out and letting his hand fall. "Of course. I will leave you to your thoughts, and-and if you decide you wish to leave, you need only inform me."
Jazz hesitated before leaving. "I can go home?"
Prowl nodded. "You are no prisoner, Jazz. The transport is as much yours to summon as it is mine."
Jazz was tempted to summon the transport immediately but were Prowl being truthful, that would place him in the way of potential harm and do continued harm to his family. Jazz did not care much for wealth, but he knew its lack made his siblings unhappy and his creator frustrated with ongoing failure. Failure that, it seemed, was not of his doing. Jazz had felt no lack, but he disliked seeing his family's distress and if he could alleviate that by doing so small a thing as staying here, then…
"I will have an answer for you," he said slowly, "tomorrow."
"Thank you," Prowl said simply. "I will leave you to retire. Should you require anything, all here is yours to command."
Jazz thanked him and took his leave, though as he passed through the doorway, he thought he heard, so faintly, a murmur of, "including me."
Not knowing where else to go, Jazz retired to his apartments and spent many long joors in thought. He did believe Prowl when he said Jazz could leave if and at any time he wished. Jazz was upset with Prowl's handling of the perceived threat and more so that the threat existed at all. Jazz had done nothing to the Prime or these mecha who sought Sentinel's favour, and neither had his family, and yet they had been brought nearly to ruin. He was unconvinced that Prowl's solution to this dilemma was the best that could have been achieved, but it was done, now, and Jazz returning to his family would only undo everything. It was a long, sleepless first night in his new home, and in the morning, Jazz left his apartments with the dawn and sought refuge in the gardens.
It seemed he was not the only one as, ahead of him, he saw Prowl standing with his back to Jazz. The garden's smoothly paved paths were laid out such that it would be difficult to avoid each other, so Jazz chose to approach Prowl directly. He made no attempt to silence his steps, and Prowl turned when he heard Jazz approach. They looked upon each other for a moment before Prowl spoke.
"You look unrested," he said. "Was the room not to your liking?"
"I found it difficult to rest given what you told me yesterday," Jazz said, "but it isn't the fault of the room. It's quite lovely, though it seems as if no one has lived there in some time."
"They have not. I had it refurbished for you, but if you wish it changed, you only need to ask. If you wish anything changed, you need only ask. I know that you don't wish to be here," Prowl said. "I want you to be at ease, as much as you can be. I did what was best, but I know you would not have come to me of your own accord."
"You did what you thought was best, though there may have been other options," Jazz corrected because while he was kind, he did not take well to having his life ordered for him. "You should have spoken to me, or at the least my creator, instead of arranging for me to be simply swept up and brought here. I am no piece on a game board to be moved at another's will."
Prowl bowed his head in apology. "You are correct. I will summon the transport for you, and I will not oppose your appeal for annulment."
"No," Jazz said. "I have no wish to leave." Prowl's head jerked up again in evident surprise, and Jazz continued. "You spoke of dangers, and you also promised you would not lie to me. If I return now, the protection you confer on my family and me will be undone. I will stay, and I won't seek an annulment. Not yet. I'll stay for three orbital cycles, and we can come to know one another. Then I will decide whether to stay or go. Is that fair?"
Prowl agreed, and to Jazz's audial, he sounded genuinely grateful, and so Jazz's courtship began.
Jazz had not been courted before, and Prowl, even the inexperienced mech could tell, was not accustomed to courting anyone. He could be abrupt, awkward, and at times almost imperious. But it was also clear that Prowl was working to make amends for his high-handedness and that he had truly believed what he had done to bring Jazz here was best. There were gifts, walks, dinners, and much conversation. Jazz learned the strategy games Prowl enjoyed and had no one to play with and found that he enjoyed them too. Prowl did not learn an instrument with any skill, but he would readily spend as many joors listening as Jazz did playing. Prowl was a learned mech, and while Jazz had had an excellent education already, Prowl's library gave him access to far more than he'd ever dreamed. Jazz fairly devoured everything there about not only the cultures of Cybertron but any and all alien worlds that he could. Prowl not only permitted this but encouraged it, allaying a fear Jazz had had that he might be confined by what his once-unknown spouse might or might not permit. Prowl was no jailer.
Jazz was naturally able to comm his family, and he did his best to reassure his creator that he was well, and Prowl had neither caused him nor meant him harm.
"Still," his creator said, "I cannot help but be concerned. It all happened so abruptly, and we know so little of Lord Prowl. I wish I could see you in the metal and reassure myself that you are well."
Three orbital cycles are not so long in the life of a Cybertronian, but Jazz had taken his leave so suddenly, and he missed his family and his friends very much. So, he went to Prowl and asked if it would be a good time for him to go home for a visit, at the least for a deca-cycle.
"Of course you may," Prowl answered, and Jazz let the lord take his hands. Prowl had requested no further liberties than this, though Jazz thought the mech wished to be granted them. "I will hope for you to return, but you have fulfilled your promise of three orbital cycles, and I shall ask for no more."
"I want to come back," Jazz confessed. "As to whether I love you, I do not know, but I know I want to return, to see what might happen between us."
"I will await your return," Prowl said, and he sounded sorrowful as if he genuinely did not expect it to be only a deca-cycle, if at all before Jazz returned.
Jazz left on the following morning aboard the same Zephyr-class transport that had borne him away from his family and arrived in short order. His family was overjoyed to see him and his creator hugged him for near on a full breem. In the time Jazz had been gone, their family fortunes had grown almost to what they had been, and his siblings were close, they said, to betrothals now. It seemed that Prowl had been correct, and his union with Jazz had conferred prestige back upon his family.
The whole deca-cycle that Jazz was with his family was a delight, and while he missed Prowl and looked forward to his return, his family begged so charmingly that he could not resist. Jazz asked Prowl, over comms, if he would not mind too much that Jazz should stay another deca-cycle with his family. Prowl looked sorrowful but said that if an extended visit made Jazz happy, he should do it. Jazz did stay, but as the deca-cycle went on, he began to realize that his time away might only serve to convince Prowl he meant not to return. More, he missed Prowl ever more deeply and began to believe that he indeed had come to love the once-mysterious lord. On the last cycle of his stay, Jazz remained only long enough for evening fuel, then bid his family goodbye, summoned the transport, and returned to the palace that night. He searched throughout the palace but did not find Prowl and at last asked Iatris where his master was.
"He has thrown himself into his work in your absence," Iatris answered, "and comes out from his private study only rarely, refuelling little and recharging even less."
Jazz had not set foot in Prowl's private study before, but he knew where it was and has access as he did to each door. He went there and, when the door was not answered after several kliks, opened it.
Prowl was within, arms folded on the desk and head resting atop them. For a moment, Jazz feared he had driven himself into stasis, but as he approached, he could faintly hear the hum of online systems in the silence of the room. Jazz knelt down and put a hand on Prowl's arm, shook him gently. It took only nano-kliks for Prowl's optics to flicker online and widened in surprise.
"Jazz," Prowl breathed, straightening up. "Am I dreaming?"
"No, love," Jazz said and smiled to see the joy on Prowl's face at the words. "I've come back, and I always will."
"Jazz," Prowl said again, wonderingly, and Jazz leaned in close and kissed him.
Not long after that, they held a proper wedding ceremony, speaking vows to each other before holding a grand celebration, family and admirers expressing joy for the happy couple. Afterward, Prowl took Jazz journeying around Cybertron and to the moons and some of the colonies to show him things the young mech had but read about. While Prowl was away, Sentinel failed to heed his security second's warnings, and the Matrix had soon to choose a new bearer. This new bearer soon proved a far better Prime than Sentinel, and he greeted the couple warmly upon their return. Jazz soon earned himself a place of his own in the new Prime's court. He and Prowl served as advisors, growing ever closer and filling their palace with knowledge and music, and their lives continue to be full and loving even until today.