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Prima had always loved playing instruments and weaving together sweet tunes when he wasn't dealing with Cybertron's problems or the other Primes.
So, after a particularly taxing meeting, he escaped to the headquarters' built-in music room, where a beautiful synth sat in the middle of it, surrounded by glass cases of different chrys-guitars, vibrolins and many other Cybertronian instruments.
The full-sized synth was made purely out of the finest crystal from the mines in Kaon. Delicate silver swirls adorned the sides, winding around to the back of it where they converged into a complex yet tiny design of the Great Dome of Iacon.
Prima ran his digits over the keys reverently. Even after all these vorns, the instrument's beauty never failed to amaze him time and time again.
He gingerly seated himself at the keyboard and carefully pulled out a well-worn data pad from his subspace to set on the music stand, watching as it flickered to life, the first few lines of notes appearing on the screen.
The white and gold-coloured mech had stayed up most dark-cycles to meticulously compose a rather short piece, turning all his thoughts into notes on the data pad.
It started calm and tranquil, the notes light and soft, eventually transforming into a lilting tune that led up to a blasting climax, which, faded away to the last few lines that he had written in a similar fashion to the start.
Prima put his servos on the keys and positioned his digits on the notes that made the starting chord.
He started to play, the flowing melody forming itself the more keys he pressed. The leader lost himself in the music, having played the piece so many times he didn't even need to look at the data pad once.
The harmony took over as the motif crescendoed and just as he was about to press down on the loudest notes in the whole piece, the sound of metal clanging against crystal echoed throughout the room, followed by the sour notes being strung on one of the displayed chrys-guitars (Prima knew his instruments well) and a sonorous thud.
Prima snatched his servos off the keys abruptly, whipping around and instantly crouching in a defensive position behind the bench as his combat protocols came online, one servo grasping his Star Saber from its sheath on his back.
However, instead of seeing the intruder he expected, the sight of a familiar purple and black-coloured frame awkwardly picking up the broken chrys-guitar greeted him, the wings twitching nervously on his back and the side profile of the oh-so dear battle mask he had skimmed his digits across one too many times telling him that this mech was none other than Megatronus.
He reset his optics once. Twice. Then started laughing boisterously, his tense frame relaxing tremendously as he continued observing Megatronus' hilarious fumbling gleefully.
"It is not funny." The purple and black-coloured mech grumbled, giving up on the broken instrument entirely and throwing it off to the side.
"It is rather funny, 'Tronus." Prima chuckled, swinging himself back onto the bench, this time facing Megatronus instead of the synth.
"It is not." His Conjunx Endura said indignantly, sitting down next to him relatively gracefully as compared to his previous clumsiness.
"Alright. Whatever you say." Prima brushed his dermas against the other's battle mask as a soundless apology before leaning back to manually offline his combat protocols.
His back plates transformed away to pull the Star Saber back in, safely storing the Matrix of Leadership inside him once again.
"So, what does the great Megatronus Prime need to come pay me a visit after a meeting?" Prima teased, playfully bumping their frames together.
"Nothing, really. I just heard a lovely song being played from the music room, so, obviously I had to go check it out. Because as far as I know, none of the Primes play instruments." Megatronus hummed, a claw-like servo coming up to clutch the smooth armour plates covering Prima's side, pulling him closer.
Prima snuggled into the way bigger mech, the feeling of warm metal plates against his own soothing him.
Thirteen astro-kliks came and went, the white and gold-coloured mech eventually moving away from the heat source that was his Conjunx Endura, with much reluctance, might he add, to go pick up the mess of strings and crystal which used to be a servo-crafted chrys-guitar.
"I did not mean to destroy the chrys-guitar, it looked very expensive." Megatronus apologized, sounding ashamed from his place on the bench.
"It was from Polyhex, crafted by a humble mech whose designation, if I remember correctly, was Chime. His creations are magnificent, extraordinary, really. But no worries, I am sure that he would gladly make another one for us." Prima recited from a locked away memory he had pulled to the front of his processor.
It was one of the memories he deeply cherished, arriving at Polyhex to meet with a reporter, only to be stopped at the terminal by a short (he was above average height for a mech his age, but Prima was enormous) and stout grey mech who carried a chrys-guitar wrapped in a thin polymer sheet.
The mech had introduced himself as Chime and gifted him the intricately designed instrument, telling him an extremely detailed speech about how he made it and to come visit him should it get damaged or destroyed.
Prima had no idea if Chime was still online, if he had been caught in the crossfire of the civil wars in Polyhex with no mech or femme to remember him. The thought made him deeply saddened and acted as a reminder for him to set a personal note to visit Polyhex again as he put the pieces of the chrys-guitar into his subspace.
"My mistake." Megatronus rumbled in his baritone voice from behind him, bringing Prima back to reality.
The white and gold-coloured mech just shook his helm, turning back around to join his Conjunx Endura on the bench.
"Would you care to play for me that lovely piece, my sweetspark? I rudely interrupted and was not able to hear it to the end." The purple and black-coloured mech requested kindly a klik later.
"Of course." Prima could feel his derma lifting up in a smile. It was the first time he played with an audience.
The two mechs positioned themselves so that they were sitting side-by-side, facing the synth.
Prima placed his servos on the keyboard yet again, and started from the top, playing through the whole piece like it was an extension of himself.
Once the last chord sounded, it was silence for a bit. Prima fretted internally that Megatronus hated it and was trying to figure out how to say it politely.
"It was something small I had made when I had time during the dark-cycle. It is okay if you do not like it, I could stop playing..." He rambled, glyphs coming out of his voice box frantically, unknowing of Megatronus taking off his battle mask and leaning in closer--
Warm dermas enveloped his, a thick glossa licking its way into his mouth. Prima was surprised at first, his spark pulsing wildly and his audials picking up the soft whirr of his fans turning on, coolant having flooded throughout his frame in an attempt to cool down his core temperature.
An astro-klik later, he was kissing back, their glossas tangling together in a dance of passion and arousal as Megatronus explored every nook and cranny of his mouth, making Prima let out a stifled moan of pleasure.
They separated moments later, both of them venting heavily.
"I assume you liked it?" Prima asked sultrily, his digits having latched onto Megatronus' chest plates at one point in their make-out session.
"I loved it." He responded as he yanked the other onto his lap, "So much."
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Onyx hastily crawled back via the vents to the rec room where the other Primes awaited his report about what Megatronus and Prima were doing, face plates tinged blue, though they were unlikely to see it through his mask.
He stumbled out of the vent, flopping clumsily onto the floor in the most un-Primely way with a painful clang.
The blue and gold-coloured mech scrambled up, his stabilizing gyros unbalancing and nearly tipping him the other way, causing him to flare out his wings instinctively and hit some mech in the face (it was probably Amalgamous, his unmistakeable shriek grating on his audials).
Once Onyx managed to stand straight without falling, he vividly started his description of what he had seen and heard as he retreated from the music room.
And by the mixed expressions on each of the Primes' face plates, it was safe to say that they wouldn't be returning there any time soon.
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Prima had felt his spark shatter in him as Megatronus fell to the ground, finally succumbing to his severe injuries from the grueling battle against the Quintessons and Sentinel.
It seemed as if in that moment, the world around him stopped moving, the only thing he could see being the purple and black plating of his Conjunx Endura turn a ghostly grey and his once bright blue spark stop spinning in its chamber.
He remembered letting out a blood-curdling scream, one that nearly shredded his voice box as he stumbled blindly towards the corpse, uncaring of the sword that pierced his main fuel line, splattering energon everywhere.
Prima fell to his knees, leaning over Megatronus' quickly greying frame and holding his claw-like servos in his energon-covered ones.
He mourned the loss of his best friend, his sparkmate, but there was no time. The other Primes were dead, save for Alpha Trion who he had seen retreated kliks before, leaving Prima to fend for himself.
With his last bit of strength, the white and gold-coloured mech stood up on his shaking pedes, taking ahold of Megatronus' frame and dragging him out of the cave.
Surprisingly, the Quintessons nor Sentinel came after them. They must have known that Prima was close to death and that no amount of repair could save him or Megatronus.
He thanked them in his muddled processor for that small mercy as he tirelessly carried the other's frame to where he knew their headquarters were, not so far from the cave that Sentinel had lured them into.
Prima made it to the music room, the doors sliding open for him effortlessly. He managed to shuffle over to the bench for the synth from those cycles before and collapsed onto it, leaning Megatronus' corpse against his side.
He could feel his systems shutting down slowly but surely, the energon loss he was suffering from his wounds killing him from inside.
Despite that, he lifted his much too heavy servos onto the smooth keys and as he vented his final glyphs, he started playing the melody he was so fond of.
"For you, my sweetspark."
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Jazz was not expecting to find two corpses seated at the most gorgeous synth he had ever seen in the abandoned tower's music room (if the number of instruments in there were anything to go by) and was definitely not expecting to find an old data pad that wouldn't turn on on its music stand (he had always thought that the olden mechs and femmes used polymers to write on, not data pads).
The corpses, fully greyed, were leaning against each other, their servos interlocked. Jazz brought a digit up to the side of his helm.
:Foun' two corpses holdin' 'ands and a super ol' data pad. Wha' ta do, Prowler?:
Prowl's crackly voice came in astro-kliks later.
:Try to identify the corpses. If they were recently offlined, they should have a serial number.:
:Roger 'hat.:
Jazz shut off the comm. link before starting his search of the mechs. If not for their grey frames, he would've thought that they were peacefully recharging.
A joor passed and no serial number could be found.
The saboteur frowned in annoyance before he talked to Prowl again.
:No sign o' any serial numbers.:
:Must be from the start of Cybertron's Golden Age then. Never mind, prepare for extraction.:
Prowl sounded more frustrated than anything. It was not at all good times and the more greyed frames they found, the less hope they had.
:Don' worry yer pretty lil helm about it, Prowler. 'M sure we'll find sum survivors soon.:
:I hope so, Jazz. I really do.:
The other mech turned off the comm. link, leaving Jazz with his thoughts. Prowl had been acting more snappish and short-tempered ever since they found the first few thousand offlined mechs and femmes, but what could he do about it?
Jazz shook his helm to clear the thoughts from his processor. It wasn't his business anyway.
As a way to take his mind off the Praxian, he took a quick snapshot of the duo, sending it to Optimus along with his short report of the mission.
He then took the data pad from the music stand and tossed it into his subspace to be reviewed later.
(Cycles later, Optimus would tell Jazz the mechs were the great Prima Prime and Megatronus Prime, and he would dump out his entire swear-cabulary once he figured out he just took the very first piece of music on Cybertron, composed by none other than Prima himself.
Jazz had played it many times on the old synth in the Ark for Prowl once they managed to turn it on with much difficulty and they eventually named it after Prima's last recorded glyphs. 'For you, my sweetspark' would be stored in the rebuilt Hall of Iacon alongside the crystal synth found with it for vorns to come after their return to Cybertron from Earth.)
-fin-