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“It was bad enough when you tried to arrange my bonding to that Vosian prince.” Ratchet glared at his brother though the layers of gauzy fabric that made up the Iacon traditional bonding robe. “But offering me up for an alliance bonding? To mechs I’ve never even seen?”
“Stop complaining, it was the only way to gain their protection.” Pharma adjusted the layers, clearing some of the blurring from his optics. Then he reached for the jeweled headdress their carrier had worn at his bonding, and set it carefully on his head. “I offered myself first, but the Prime refused me. And I thought you meant it when you said you would do anything for Nova Cronum.”
“I did mean it.” Ratchet sighed. “And I probably would have offered myself as the sacrifice if I had been at the meeting. But Pharma, I don’t even know their names!”
“I know, and I am sorry.” Pharma pulled him into a hug for a moment, before sighing and tugging all the layers of fabric back into place. “I did what I could in ensuring they would at least be the same age as you, though. No marrying old Nominus for the sake of our people.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“You’re welcome.” An indicator light came on above the door and Pharma sighed again. “Time to go.”
-_-_-_-_-_-
Ratchet used his walk down the aisle, toward the table where he and his soon-to-be mates would seal their bond, to get his thoughts in order. The whole thing was moving far too quickly, but the Quintessons were knocking at the gates, and they didn’t have time for the traditional courting period. They didn't have time for much of anything, in fact, probably including consumating their bond.
The priest would guide them in their vows, they would run the trining program to sync their processors, and then the people of Nova Cronum would rush under the protective shields of Iacon and Rodion. They would just barely be legally bonded, but it would be enough to satisfy the terms of the treaty.
If they were lucky, they would even all survive to have to go through this farce again and make everything truly official.
As he passed the first section of witnesses, a group that looked like they were all recovering soldiers, he caught sight of his mates-to-be walking down aisles that were angled toward the table from other doors in the room. They were both wrapped in the same Iacon-traditional gauze, though it wasn’t enough to hide the vivid reds and oranges of one of them. Or the swords the second was carrying.
It was interesting, that the Iaconians were allowing someone to carry swords to a bonding in one of their temples.
They met at the table within kliks of each other. The red and orange mech looked at him with wide optics, that looked just this side of terrified. The mech carrying the swords didn’t meet either of their gazes.
Oh, this was going to go swimmingly.
-_-_-_-_-_-
His processor ached when they finally got back to their quarters. And his new mates didn’t look much better off. Rodimus, the red and orange mech, looked like he felt the worst of them, though.
“Sit down, kid, before you fall down.” Ratchet gestured for him to move to the overstuffed chair in the center of the room. “I’ll go see if my brother actually brought my kit, like he promised.”
“What kit?” Drift, the swordsmech, asked warily.
“My medical kit. I’m a doctor, when I’m not being sacrificed to alliance bondings.” Ratchet moved toward the wash room, where he hoped Pharma had actually left his kit. And his other belongings, ideally.
“I see.” Drift sounded stand-offish still, but Ratchet supposed he couldn’t blame him. He’d been fairly surly himself, during the tiny reception that the Prime had insisted on having.
“Never thought I’d be bonding to a doctor,” Rodimus said with a soft laugh as he sat down. “I always kind of thought I’d get shipped off to a temple once Optimus was bonded and had an heir of his own.”
“Why would your sire do something like that?” Drift asked as Ratchet started opening cabinet doors in the wash room.
“I’m…” Rodimus sighed. “Not his favorite son. He’s got Optimus and Ironhide, and I’m just the extra. And he never lets me forget it.”
That made Ratchet frown, even more than his headache already was. No one was “just extra.”
“Then he’s an idiot,” Drift said firmly. “We may not know you well yet, but I think I speak for both Ratchet and I, when I say that you are smart and brave. And stronger than your sire gives you credit for.”
“I agree!” Ratchet called from the wash room. Then he he smiled for a klik as he finally found his medkit in the cabinet farthest from the door. “And I have pain patches!”
“Thank Primus,” Drift and Rodimus muttered in unison. Then Rodimus laughed softly.
When Ratchet stepped back intot he main room, Rodimus had a small smile on his face and Drift had taken his swords off and leaned them against the chair. Seeing them relaxing, even a little, made his own shoulders come down a bit.
“All right, I suggest recharge after I’ve got these pain patches in place.” Ratchet set his kit down on the small table in front of Rodimus’ chair and opened it. “I can’t say things will look good in the morning, but they’ll look better with the processor sync settled. Then we can figure out where we go from here.”
“Recharge sounds great,” Rodimus agreed. “But I think our first order of business should be getting to know each other better. I mean, we know you’re a doctor, but I don’t know what Drfit does. And you don’t know what I do and–”
“Kid.” Ratchet peeled a pain patch off it backing and slapped it to the back of Rodimus’ head. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
“Or the afternoon,” Drift added. “Depending on how long we recharge. It is late, after all.”
“Yeah, okay.” Rodimus smiled. “In the morning.”