Chapter Text
“-And welcome the prime-to-be, Optimus Prime! Let’s give it up for him and enjoy the night!”
Optimus grinned towards the masses, a bright, innocent expression resting on his face. He made sure nobody would notice the blank optics which did not reflect the emotion on his face, or his dermas whose curvature was pulled just a bit too tight, or perhaps his servos he hid behind his back, away from public view, curled into fists so tightly the metal was sure to have dented.
Just smile and wave, Optimus thought, remember what Alpha Trion told you.
A few more groons of this, then he would be free from the prying optics and judgmental whispers. He was about to become the Prime, the supreme ruler of Cybertron, after the inevitable retiring of Alpha Trion.
Smile and wave.
Truth to be, Optimus wasn’t exactly unsatisfied with his future. He was ready to bear the heavy burden of taking the mantle of Prime even if he would never become a true prime regardless of his ancestry of being directly related to the other original primes, as the only way to become a true prime was by getting the Matrix of Leadership personally from Primus himself, no matter the heritage.
Over the stellar cycles of learning behind his brother Alpha Trion, he had devised many ideas on how to improve Cybertron little by little and would rather be damned by Unicron if he didn’t try to implement them. A surge of newfound determination coursed through Optimus’s frame.
Smile and wave.
It was just that... Optimus desired the feeling of a content and peaceful existence, one where he would truly understand his reason for being placed in this world by his creator, Primus. In simpler words, he desired to feel like he truly belonged, not ill-placed in a high position to play prime.
But he knew he would never get that.
And he was learning to accept that.
Optimus nodded along the conversation he was stuck in, absentmindedly listening to the haughty mech who was boasting about some recent affair— truly nothing important. He would interject a few words at some point with a ‘go on’ or a ‘really?’ to spur the mecha along without letting the conversation flow into an awkward point.. It was enough for everybody in the room, anyways. Simply talking to the future-prime was considered groundbreaking, according to a conversation he overheard from two guards. After all, he was Optimus Prime, the idealistic high-caste bot who, true to his name, was filled with blind optimism for a better future for all Cybertronians. Outwardly, he appeared as a perfect martyr for control. Internally, he scoffed. Let the cyberwolves try. Let them come, and try.
Optimus internally sighed, finally getting a break as the arrogant mech left to chase some poor femme who was definitely conjunxed. He distractedly thanked the bartender as they passed him a drink, sipping slowly as he let his optics sweep around the room. Small chatter filled the crowded space. He sighed into the drink. All the high-caste bots in the gallery were so vain he would never forget the feeling of being observed and stared at at all angles. Primus, I wish I could simply retreat into my berthroom.
“My prime.” A slimy voice greeted. Optimus internally sighed, immediately recognizing the voice. He turned around, plastering a strained smile on his faceplates, the tension barely noticeable from a mech who had practiced happiness for a long time.
“Senator Stingrat. What brings you to my company?” He inquires, crinkling his optics just right as to not seem cold or distant. It worked.
“Me and Ms. Pillax over here were simply talking about our history. You know, the great victories and acts of the holy primes.” He nodded at a femme hanging off his arm who winked with a sultry smirk on her face. Optimus respectfully nodded back.
“Oh my, dear! Shouldn’t we include the future prime in our conversation? He must be preparing to take in his predecessors’ pedesteps.” She turned towards Optimus. “I have no doubts that you will achieve great things, my prime.” In a slow, suggestive voice, Ms. Pillax’s optics slowly and theatrically dragged over his frame. Optimus ignored the unconscious need to sag into himself to try to hide away from the stare.
“Of course, my dear.” Senator Stingrat turned back towards Optimus
“If I may say, I think the decision to banish Sentinel was a great idea. I always thought he was a bit too haughty, if I do say so myself.” Senator Stingrat said, not acknowledging the fact that he was one of the most loyal supporters of Sentinel when he was still in court.
“Oh, yes! He was too pushy and demanding for me. So rough and rude and power-hungry, he tried to come onto me, you know.” Before Sentinel was banished, there was a scandal where she and Sentinel allegedly had a relationship while he was in a conjunx arrangement with another. The outcome was not pretty.
She dramatically hugged herself, slightly wobbling which prompted Stingrat to hold her steady, putting his servos on the low of her backplates and on her hips, moving towards her aft. Optimus tiredly stared ahead.
“Optimus!” Optimus swiftly turned around, pacing away from the touchy couple in front of his as he watched a brightly painted femme quickly run up to him, pushing past bots who gasped and glared disdainfully. Optimus smiled at Elita-1, relieved yet wary.
“Hello, Elita. It’s nice to see you this evening. What may I be of service to you?” he asked. Elita gave him a tight smile before working back to a grim expression.
“Good evening, my prime. Prima requests you to go to his office immediately.” She raised her voice louder, prompting more mechs and femmes to turn their helms around and listen in. Optimus frowned, but nodded.
“Understood. Thank you for informing me, soldier.” Elita gave a bow and stalked away, roughly pushing past bots gathered around. Optimus placed his glass of high-grade on the platter of a passing bartender and briskly paced out of the room, bots whispering behind him.
“What could Sir Prima need?”
“Doesn’t sound like anything good to me.”
Two guards opened the doors when they saw him coming, and soon Optimus disappeared into the long hallways of the palace.
Optimus knocked the gilded doors to his brother’s office. He waited a few beats, and a faint ‘come in’ echoed out.
Prima was reading through a datapad with one servo, the other flawlessly writing on a sheet of parchment, glyphs being constructed by every swipe of his shiny digits. He looked up when Optimus came closer, flashing a quick smile before gesturing him to sit down in front of the desk. As soon as Optimus obliged, he set down the stylus pen and pushed the datapad towards him.
“Please take a look at this, little brother.” Optimus obeyed, picking up the datapad and lightly skimming through it. It was a simple report, describing Commander Megatronus leading a century of soldiers to scour the lands of Cybertron to find something with no luck. Optimus frowned, grimacing as he looked back up at Prima, who placed a large servo on his.
“I’m so sorry, Optimus. We’ve had no such luck in the attempts to find Alpha. He’s still missing.” Optimus glanced down at the datapad then back to Prima.
“Not even a trace of what could’ve happened to him? There’s no way he just mysteriously disappeared.” Prima sighed.
“We only know that it doesn’t appear for him to be dead. If he was, we would feel it. Primus doesn’t like his creations being murdered, much less his direct children.” Prima squeezed his servo harder, bringing a welcome sensation.
“Rest assured, my star. We will find him… or what has happened.” Optimus felt tears prick at his optics, threatening to fall.
“I know… I trust in our siblings. I just…” he fell silent. Prima’s other servo rested on his faceplates, just on his cheek, brushing a few stray tears of coolant that was dripping down, which gave Optimus the remaining courage to finish his sentence. “I’m scared, for Alpha. I hope he’s doing alright, wherever he is.”
The servo on his cheek drifted down to his chin and gently lifted his helm up, bringing him to optic-length with his oldest brother. Prima gave him a warm, reassuring smile which usually would’ve calmed Optimus down, but this time, he couldn’t bring himself to be reassured. His processor was still on the disappearance of his older brother.
“You have no need to worry, best of us all. Your older siblings are working to find Alpha Trion." Optimus returned Prima’s gentle smile, leaning into the warmth of his loving servo and affectionate EM field.
In return, he tightened his own field around him, not letting the determination seep out to alarm Prima as his processor ran through a dangerous idea and plan.
Optimus gently lay down into his berth, tiredness seeping from his frame and into the soft silk sheets of the soft, organic material. He offlined his optics, surrendering himself from the harsh realities of his world and escaping into the soft imaginations of sleep. Sounds he offhandedly heard that always filled the background washed out, leaving a weird, filling let empty silence. The feeling of silk sheets gently wrapping around his frame slowly faded into nothing, feeling as if he was floating.
“My prime.” A soft and benevolent, yet sonorous and resounding voice cut through the silence. Optimus’s optics fluttered open, a dopey smile immediately etching itself onto his faceplates.
“My creator.” He murmured back, pushing himself forward into the huge half-solid servos reaching out for him. They caught him and swished him back and forth like one would lovingly do so with their sparkling.
“I’ve missed you so very much, my light.” Optimus closed his optics, relaxing in the warmth of the huge servos and the welcoming feeling of a affectionate embrace. He didn’t utter a word, not feeling a need to. He knew that he was safe, in Primus’s embrace.
“I am so very sorry for the plights you have gone through, and will go through. My spark aches for you. Remember that my frame will reach out to you, always.” Optimus swallowed every glyph that echoed throughout the space he was in. A single sin materialized in his processor, hesitant worry for the future as his creator spoke. Primus, of course, felt it.
“Oh, please do not worry, my Optimus. Everything will survive.” Optimus looked up from his spot on Primus’s servo as he was brought higher until a large helm appeared, smiling and gazing at him adoringly.
“…Do you promise?” He felt like a sparkling, asking his creator for reassurance.
Primus laughed.
It reflected all across the space they were in, reaching every single nook and cranny until it filled the space. Even when the physical interpretation of Primus’s intake closed, the jingling sound of laughter still echoed as if it never stopped. It immediately calmed him down, His laughter brushing against his EM field until it lightened up.
“Oh my, oh my. My brightest. You care so, so much it warms my spark to see my best creation be such a shining treasure.” Primus gazed at him, drinking his appearance up. “I promise. I only reveal the truth, only.”
It was enough for Optimus. He let himself melt in Primus’s servos as His words calmed him down. “Okay.”
“Yes, my best.” Primus’s gaze drifted down towards Optimus’s spark, bright smile softening down to a low but heady stare.
“We must depart for now. Remember to trust your truth and that I will be with you every step of the way. I will never leave. Never. I will always be by your side.” Optimus nodded, closing his optics as the warmth left his frame, feeling disappeared until he felt soft silk sheets surround his frame once again, a new, soft mesh blanket delightfully draped around himself which he could swear was not there beforehand. Optimus let out a content sigh as he drifted off into recharge.
Optimus’s optics flickered open. He sighed, mentally preparing for the cycle.
C’mon, get out of the berth. Face the day like the prime you’re supposed to be.
He paused. A Prime. I’m going to be a prime.
Optimus groaned. Great. Now he was doubting his position. There was no time to doubt himself. Not when the fate of Cybertron was resting on his shoulder pauldrons.
A knock shook him out of his processor, whipping his helm around towards the door.
“Come in.” He uttered, loud enough for the servant on the other side to hear. They creaked the door open and stepped inside. Optimus cracked a smile at Bumblebee, who rushed towards the side of the berth.
“Good morning, my prime!” Bumblebee jabbered. Optimus looked at him fondly, watching the little mech rush around the room, picking up strayed cloth and organizing objects unconsciously, looking over to Optimus every once in a while. “Jeez, I didn’t know a prime could even be messy. I thought you guys were perfect until I started working under you, haha.”
“Good morning to you too, Bee. How are you doing on this cycle?” Bumblebee preened. Optimus let out a slight chuckle. Bumblebee never got over the fact that he was so close to Optimus. He was always shocked and amazed whenever Optimus showed any affection towards him, which made Optimus wonder just what the little scout went through before getting a job at the palace.
“I’m feeling like I can knock down a row of warframes, my liege! Obviously not as strong as you, but one’s imagination matrix can go crazy.” Bumblebee shone a bright grin back at Optimus.
Optimus closed his optics, his smile deepening into a cynical one. “I share the sentiment, Bee.”
Bumblebee dashed over to him, giving him a tray with a glass of oil-mixed energon. Optimus thanked him and downed it in one big gulp which led to Bumblebee letting out a small whistle at the sight.
“I can say that it doesn’t seen like you’re doing too good, my prime.” He acknowledged.
“I suppose not.” Bumblebee stared at him worriedly, a question on his faceplates.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll get better. The world is waiting for you as soon as you step out of the room, you know.” Bumblebee must’ve meant it as a joke and a encouragement, but the words strangely made Optimus anxious and upset.
Right. Bumblebee was right. Everybody looked up to him. He was supposed to be the figurehead of optimism, peace, everything nice. He wasn’t supposed to be this… nervous, stressed martyr. He had everything at his fingertips. He had a home, he had power, pit, he was probably the most powerful mech on Cybertron. His siblings were all alive- albeit one missing and might be dying— DON’T THINK ABOUT THAT.
:: DON’T THINK ABOUT THAT. ::
:: DON’T THINK ABOUT THAT. ::
:: DON’T THINK ABOUT THAT. ::
:: DON’T THINK ABOUT THAT. ::
:: DON’T THINK ABOUT THAT. ::
…
Hm.
Optimus slowly blinked, optics faraway. When he came back to the present, Bumblebee was waving his servos in front of him, as if it would bring him out of his processor.
“Optimus! Oh, thank Primus. Optimus, are you okay?” Bumblebee questioned. Optimus didn’t know how to answer. Thankfully, he didn’t need to, as Bumblebee interrupted him as soon as he finished his sentence. “Ah, sorry. That was a stupid question. You’re definitely obviously fine, how could the Optimus Prime not be? Stupid me, heh…” Optimus grimaced.
“Please don’t say that about yourself, Bumblebee. You are not stupid.” He firmly soothed. Bumblebee looked at him with big optics.
“You really think so?” Optimus forced a smile back on his face. “I know so.” Bumblebee brightened up and went back to reorganizing his entire room. In the meantime, Optimus’s processor went back to his thoughts.
Primus had visited him through his dream. Optimus absently stroked his chassis, remembering the welcoming warmth that resonated throughout his frame and dearly wished he never left that space. He wished he was just a little sparkling, cradled in the large servos of his dear creator without a care or worry in the entire world.
Optimus sighed. He wished. If only, if only…
He stayed silent.
After a few kliks had passed, Bumblebee reported his completion. Optimus lightly waved him away and out of the room with a few words of wanting to be alone for a bit. As soon as the door gently clicked shut, he slumped in on himself.
Optimus groaned as he leaned backwards, flopping onto his berth with a small poof.
He blankly stared up at his ceiling, staring at the intricate patterns and gilded corners that came with the other benefits of being the prime-to-be.
He angrily growled as he harshly brought up a servo to his face, slamming it as he slightly winced at the pain rebounding through his faceplates and into the inner seams.
He didn’t deserve to be prime. He, by far, was probably the most undeserving and unworthy of the title and power that came with it. He wasn’t a good leader, and was a even worse mech.
His helm rolled to the side, making him make optics contact with a nearby table filled to the brim with jewelry, photographs, and gifts. Oh, here he was again, lamenting his own life when so many other bots were struggling to get through the day or even stay alive, trying to scourge for spare energon thrown on the streets and in the alleyways, begging for just a spare piece of shanix from the haughty bots walking past who simply kicked them and pushed them away with noises of disgust and mocking amusement.
Optimus felt tears of coolant form at the corners of his optics and did nothing to stop them from dripping down, staining the soft, expensive mesh with his filth.
I hate myself. I hate myself so, so much.
“I’m so sorry, little brother. There has been no sign of Alpha, yet.” Optimus dejectedly stared down at the floor as Solus pat his shoulder pauldrons with Megatronus projecting a EM field meant to calm him down. If he was younger, it probably would’ve worked.
Optimus sighed. “I understand, Solus. Thank you all for trying, nevertheless.” Megatronus placed a large servo on his back, engulfing a large part of his backplates as he was pulled into a warm embrace.
“Do not worry too much, bright.” Onyx wrapped his metal wings around Optimus, swamping his frame. The three warm EM fields around his all took up as much space as possible, leaving no nook and cranny uncovered. Almost. Optimus pulled his EM field tighter around himself as to not alarm his dear siblings with the negative intent surrounding him.
“We will find him. Mark our words. We promise to you, little star, that Alpha Trion will be back in Cybertron well and healthy before the Summer Solstice.” Liege Maximo butts in, new EM field evading the rest in a hearty manner. Solus tries a grin. It works.
“For Liege to be saying that, you know it will be true, Optimus. Please do not continue worrying, for Alpha Trion will be found and recovered soon.” She placates, wrapping her arms around Optimus to the best she can with Onyx’s wings still possessively covering his frame.
Optimus tries a smile himself. He hopes it looks real.
I hope that is true. For if brother Trion is not found, I might as well look for him myself, Optimus thinks to himself. A plan is already circulating in his processor.
Optimus wearily paces around his room. It was the only place he felt as if he could let down his walls and escape from his actuality, when he was companioned with nothing but his own thoughts. it was a lonely existence in his room, but it was guarded and safe.
Optimus walked through the winding, gilded hallways, processor absent as he mindlessly paced through the corridors as if being chased by Unicron himself. He mechanically flashes a practiced smile and waved as servant walked past, continuing on his way to nowhere.
He slowed down as voices echoed in Prima’s office, loud enough to be heard through the thick walls. He paid no heed towards the heated debate residing in the office and was content to carry on his monotonous stride, until he heard his name said. Curiosity got the best of him, and he looked around. It was getting late, judging by the dark sky outside a nearby window. Lights were being shut down one by one, the world going to sleep. The servants were nowhere to be seen, all retreating back to their homes to recharge peacefully. Optimus must’ve not noticed, far too busy with his toneless fretting over nothing.
He stepped closer towards a crack between the doors, and took notice to have it fixed. If it was this easy to eavesdrop, then surely nothing would turn out good.
“Optimus is getting anxious.” Prima’s soft voice resonated through the office.
“Yes.” Nexus responded.
“We know. All our siblings can feel it throughout the entire palace. Our youngest’s EM field practically carries around everybody, his emotions as clear as filtered energon.” Vector sympathized.
“It was always dear Optimus’s best trait. He always was the best, most caring of us.” Quintus piped up.
Optimus heard his other three siblings chuckle.
“But Alpha. Poor Trion, he was always so headstrong. I only wish he is alright, wherever he currently is. We must find him as soon as possible.” Prima ordered, voice turning the powerful, commanding yet sympathetic tone the citizens of Cybertron all recognized. A creak of metal, presumably a helm turning to the side from one of the three mechs in the office.
“We haven’t gotten any report of any sightings or leads as to what happened to Alpha Trion or where that old fool is.” Nexus pointed out, sighing. “We’re getting nowhere.”
“We do know that Alpha Trion is alive. If he’s okay…” Vector trailed off, growing quiet. The office became silent.
“No. We must believe in our oldest brother. We have to do this for our precious youngest’s sake.” Quintus declared, voice growing as firm as the hardest steel in the deeps of their creator.
“Yes. You’re right.” Nexus agreed, falling still once again.
“We must not disclose this information to our youngest. It will not do well allowing him to grow even more afraid and anxious.” Prima ordered to the three other mechs.
“Of course.” Vector spoke out as his other siblings all spoke a chorus of agreements.
Optimus shakily stepped away before any could notice the mech of the conversation eavesdropping outside the office, and roughly and frantically wiped away the tears of coolant quickly sliding down his smooth faceplates like a madman before they could hit the ground.
As the last of light closed from the buildings outside and all living beings were in recharge save for the few wandering the streets in look for things never there, Optimus stood up from his bench.
He walked towards his desk, mechanically organizing his items so that not even one object was displaced, everything meticulously placed out as he swept his optics around his room to try to detect any more sigh of messes. Nothing caught his optics, the sun outside beating quietly against his plating as if Primus Himself was telling him that nothing but tidiness would be waiting for him if he went through his room once again. Knowing the quiet mischievousness and clingy protectiveness of his creator, He probably was.
He sighed. Okay. Nothing was out of place.
Optimus walked over to his berth, mesh blankets tucked in and smoothed out as if nobody had even recharged on them. There was one blanket missing, the very one his creator had gifted him, a present that He crafted with His own servos with His own essence. It was safely tucked in the small satchel that was lying on his berth. He went over to the satchel, and picked up the small, weathered photograph lying right next to it.
It was a photo of them all. Optimus in the middle, servos from his siblings all sticking out to touch some part of him. His spark warmed at the image. It was when he was truly innocent, only knowing of pure happiness and content from being the most privileged mech in the entire world. It was before he gained true consciousness to him true self, a selfish, martyr of a mech. He didn’t deserve to be prime. Not anymore. Or maybe… he never did.
Optimus took a deep breath as he gently nudged the photograph between the space of his satchel, trying his hardest to not crease or damage the picture.
He took one last sweep around the room. Nothing was out of place, he said to himself only to calm his worried processor.
Optimus gently opened the doors to the balcony, sliding the windows close with a small clink.
He descended the walls, gripping organic and crystalline vines mashed together that grew from the crystalline trees planted at key points around the palace. He snuck past the bushes of blooming rose quartz trimmed in neat rows along the paths of the palace like lace, and ducked under the undergrowth as his spark hammered against his inner chassis like a petrorabbit.
Once he climbed up a small slope into a clearing on a cliff-side, he turned around to look back and was greeted by the view of the cities and towns of inner Cybertron, buildings and structures of all shapes and sizes being lit up by the twinkling stars and the twin moons above, scattered across the sky like a bizarre painting of a crazed painter.
He stared at the view, trying to soak it all up for the chance that he would never be able to see it again.
With one last longing look, he swiftly turned around and disappeared into the forage of nature.
The people of Cybertron would wake up with one piece of devastating news; the youngest and future prime’s disappearance. The royal prime siblings would panic, calling for an all-out search. A wayward prime would be far away, far too away to be seen for a long time. Every single spark would sing out in anticipation for what would come, and Primus would lie in waiting, waiting, waiting…