Chapter Text
Starscream pushed all of his strength into his thrusters. He could feel how his tanks were approaching critical, and he still pushed another burst of power in his afterburners. He would be running on fumes soon, his frame pushed to its limits. He’d escaped their territory, but he knew he was still not safe. He needed to get out. He’d escaped Megatron’s realm, but now he was on the edge of the seelie realm, the edge of Optimus Prime’s lands. He needed to get farther, past his kingdom, to the neutral air. Somewhere… somewhere safe. Somewhere Megatron’s magic couldn’t reach.
He could still hear the echo of Megatron’s voice, a whisper, a curse in his audials.
It arched through his frame, a blossom of dark magic arching around his spark, gripping it, stretching out through his entire frame.
Fly, little princeling, fly far, fly fast.
As you are, you cannot last.
Your treachery blinds you, brighter than the sun.
Your own arrogance, your selfish desires, you cannot outrun.
There was no way he could maintain altitude like this. He felt the curse sinking in, pulling, and he fought against it with all of his strength, all of the magic in his spark.
He didn’t even feel it when he crashed through the crystals, as he fell through the trees, as his frame hit the ground.
~☆~
Skyfire liked living alone. The woods were peaceful, and the crystals here left cascading patterns of color streaking across the forest floor every morning. He could go for a fly early in the morning when the moons were still bright in the sky, and then walk back home from the edge of the forest, gathering crystals to refine for his next few meals. It was… peaceful.
He only occasionally had visitors. Jazz of the seelie court came by sometimes. Skyfire knew he was one of the high-ranking mechs of that particular fae court, and was always careful to turn down any offering of energon goodies. He knew how rules worked, and he wasn’t keen on being taken prisoner by a faery court, regardless of how laid-back the musical mech was. He left Skyfire his comm number, though the shuttle never reached out first. He didn’t even know if Jazz was his real name, after all.
Other travelers came by sometimes, lost wanderers or driving mechs who couldn’t find their way back to the road. Fliers never came out here, though. Occasionally he’d see a cargo plane take off towards space, but jets and smaller flight-frames often stayed away, preferring the mountains to the north, near the unseelie King Megatron’s territory.
That was part of why it was so strange when he found the crashed seeker.
One wing looked mangled from the fall, and his thrusters were burned out. Skyfire was sure he might have been beautiful, if he wasn’t so destroyed. His optics were dark, but the brilliant reds and blues of his frame were still bright, though the fading glamour that should have been protecting him was fading and falling away quickly.
A fae seeker, the magic still swirling around him.
Skyfire had never seen something so beautiful up close.
He was careful as he approached him, and picked him up gently. He felt so light, so frail in his arms, and the gray face and dark lines of his helm had a slender beauty to them that made Skyfire’s spark spin just a tiny bit faster.
He carried him back to his hab, laying the seeker’s frame out on the berth. He could feel a coldness about him, and Skyfire had to adjust his optics to see it. It looked like a shadow at first, but Skyfire could see it now in the lights of his hab, a dark blue and purple swirl that arched around his cockpit, dissipating his glamour and weakening the magic in his field. Skyfire knew it for what it was; a curse.
Wounded and cursed, a horrible, sinking feeling pooled in Skyfire’s tanks, and he tossed aside the crystals he’d gathered to scramble for his spellbook.
Skyfire never was any good at magic, and he sometimes thought he should retreat to non-magical society, but never enough to convince him to abandon his nature studies here. He swiped through the datapad quickly, trying to find something, anything that could work. There were so many spells he didn’t understand, but at least he had a tenuous grasp of some fae magic.
That would have to do.
He didn’t know how to dispel curses, but if he could restore the seeker’s glamour, or generate a new one, the magic might be strong enough to repel the curse that was eating away at him. Then, Skyfire could repair the damages to his wings and get some fuel in him, and make sure his self-repair nanites were fully functional.
It was nearly dusk by the time the Skyfire was done preparing the spell, with all of the components carefully prepared, including Skyfire’s awkward attempts at drawing protective symbols on his own plating. He knew better than to mess with magicks beyond his control, and even in the faint blue glow of the spell, he could only hope he was doing it right.
He scattered the citrine and bismuth he’d crushed around the seeker’s frame, and put a hand over his cockpit, whispering the words over and over, though he knew the feeling was far more important than the words he spoke or glyphs he dared write.
Protection. Revival. Strength. Heal.
Skyfire repeated the process as his frame began to glow, and the new glamour spread out over it; a blanket of glowing blue light, settling into his cables, into the plating, coloring and swirling across the cool metal, like dust blown in the wind, it arched outwards, coloring the grey and blue with a brilliant red and white, the glow fading into sparks and concealing every unseelie marking as it covered his frame, fading and fizzling out. It choked over the growing curse, fizzling into the shadows of it, making a hissing noise akin to a pot left out over the heat for far too long.
He let out a sigh of relief as it receded, leaving the fallen seeker a cool white color.
Skyfire couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty that he’d concealed this newcomer’s bright colors with a spell, but anything to lessen the effects of the curse. At least he was alive. He could feel the thrum of his systems returning, his spark strong, his field stabilizing.
Of course, he knew he was no wizard, but at least the mech was alive.
The magic fading, the seeker’s optics came online, and he reached back with both arms, pushing himself upright slowly. “Urk…”
“Ah! Be careful! You were badly injured…” Skyfire began, reaching out a hand to steady him as he tried to sit up.
The seeker shook his head slowly, shivered, and stretched his wings briefly, cycling his optics briefly as if resetting them. Of course, after a crash like that, and after enduring such a curse, he must have gone a full reboot.
“Don’t worry,” Skyfire continued. “You’re safe here. You had a terrible crash. I found you in the forest nearby.”
The seeker stared at him, watching him as Skyfire moved to the kettle, pouring him a cube of warmed energon, pressing it into both of his hands.
“Where am I…?” His voice was surprisingly raspy, but Skyfire found it beautiful.
It just wasn’t quite the voice he expected from that frame. He smiled, pushing his hands over the seeker’s gently, closing them around the cube. “You crashed not too far from here. We’re in the crystal forest. We are near the Seelie fae realm, but well outside of it. I live here alone, in this little cottage. I’m studying the plants out here.”
The seeker watched him for another moment, then turned his attention down to the energon, taking a small, tentative sip of the fuel before gulping down the rest of it. “And… who are you…?” he asked, keeping his voice low and soft.
“My name is Skyfire,” Skyfire explained, taking a seat across from the seeker. It felt a bit odd to sit in your only kitchen chair and look at your guest, who happened to be sitting on your entire kitchen table. “And you are…?”
“Me? My name…” the seeker’s optics dimmed in thought, and he pursed his lips together. “It’s… Star? I think…? I can’t recall. To be honest, I can’t recall much of anything…”
Skyfire’s spark sank. Had his spell, his attempt to save Star’s life, wiped his memory?
He could try to undo the spell, try to restore his memory, but he also knew he wasn’t a seasoned warlock of any sort, and the curse was much stronger than his own magic. If he undid his spell, there was a good chance that the curse would seep into Star’s spark and extinguish it.
“I… see…” Skyfire answered. “Well, do you want some more fuel…? How do you feel?”
Star smiled at him, and something about it felt… strange. Not necessarily wrong, but like he wasn’t seeing all of him. Or looking at Star in the reflection of a mirror, rather than Star himself.
Perhaps that was how glamour magic worked? Skyfire didn’t know the finer nuances of it.
He would have to do more research on it. Perhaps he could ask Jazz the next time he came by. In the meantime, he supposed he should just do everything in his power to help the fae before him.
“I’m a bit dizzy… otherwise I think I’m not too badly hurt. Do I have you to thank for that?” Star asked, cupping the empty cube in both hands.
“Well, I tried my best,” Skyfire admitted a bit sheepishly. “For now, perhaps you should get some rest and let your magic do the rest? I just did what I could…”
“You’re very kind, thank you…” Star answered, bowing his head slightly as Skyfire helped him off of the table and led him over to the berth. It was small for Skyfire, but plenty large for the seeker’s small frame, and Skyfire gathered a few extra thermals to provide a bit more cushion for him, draping the thickest one around his frame.
Satisfied to watch Star slip into recharge quickly, Skyfire cleaned up the setup from his spell, washed the cubes, and settled into the sensation of Star’s gentle field. It was only after he fully cleaned up that Skyfire realized he’d offered Star the only berth in his little cottage, so he retreated to his chair, settling into it. He watched Star recharge, amazed by how well-crafted and beautiful his features were. His natural colors were concealed by Skyfire’s spell, but there was something else to his design, the way his wings were tucked back slightly, the peaceful air about him. He wondered who Star was, where he had come from, what gave him this allure about his entire frame that transcended beyond the simple mystery of what happened, or why he was cursed.