Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

[PRIMARY MISSION: PROTECT AND SUPPORT DESIGNATION OPTIMUS PRIME] 

Megatron raised his sword as the crowd cheered around him.  

[MISSION STATUS: INACTIVE]  

He expertly ignored the messaging. It never stopped flashing, but he’d already looked; there was no bot by the name Optimus, much less a prime.  

He trudged to the medbay for the courtesy check-up after a match.  

Medical Officer Ratchet scoffed when he saw him. “What are you doing here? That bot never even touched you.”  

“It’s the rules," Megatron reminded him.  

“Screw the rules, stop wasting my time.”  

Megaton shrugged and turned away.  

“Ratchet!” an unfamiliar voice called.  

Ratchet groaned. “Orion Pax, you better not have gotten yourself hurt again.” 

Megatron glanced behind him and froze.  

[MISSION STATUS: ACTIVATING...] 

A small red and blue bot stood with Ratchet, a sheepish smile on his face. “No, I’m fine. Sorry about that. I just found the data cylinder you wanted! I thought I would deliver it in person?”  

Ratchet took the offered cylinder. “You just wanted an excuse to meet Megatronus.”  

Orion raised his servos. “No! No, it was enough just to watch! I’d never ask you to abuse your position like that!” He sounded so painfully genuine. 

Megatron reset his optics. 

[MISSION STATUS: ACTIVE.] 

[PRIMARY MISSION: PROTECT AND SUPPORT DESIGNATION OPTIMUS PRIME-DESIGNATION OP-01 DESIGNATION ORION PAX.] 

[TARGET STATUS: TEMPORALLY SAFE.] 

[RESPONSE: INTEGRATE SELF IN TARGET'S SPACE] 

Megatron reset his optics again. For once, every alert on his HUD was gone. Instead, he was looking down at a starstruck civilian-frame.  

“Megatronus,” Ratchet frowned at him. “Are your alerts acting up again?”  

Megatron reset his optics again, turning his gaze to the doctor.  

[WARNING: TARGET NO LONGER IN VIEW] 

Megatron looked back at the small bot. The alert vanished. He shuttered his optics. “No, doctor. I merely heard my name and grew curious.” 

Ratchet raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Well, why don’t you see Orion out. He has a habit of getting lost.”  

Orion rubbed the back of his neck apologetically.  

Megatron nodded. “Fine, follow me, Orion Pax.” 

Orion looked up at him with awestruck optics and nodded excitedly. “Right! Lead the way, sir!” 

Megatron didn’t dignify that with a response.  

The small warning letting him know that Orion was out of sight was much easier to ignore than the prior warnings. Megatron marveled at the difference. He could see so much better now.  

“If you wouldn't mind,” Orion started awkwardly. “I have a question about your essay on the damages of functionalism.” 

Megatron glanced back at the little bot in surprise. “You read my essay?”  

Orion nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve read all your work. They’re very well researched and thought-through. Although the professors weren’t happy when I cited them.” Orion shrugged his shoulders in a what-can-you-do gesture.  

Megatron hummed, his curiosity piqued. “Ask your question. I will see if I can answer it.” 

What followed was the most engaging debate of Megatron’s life. Orion asked good questions, thought through his responses, and conceded when he was wrong. He was also very knowledgeable. Megatron had forgotten what it was like to be challenged in a conversation.  

Orion’s comm beeped. He looked surprised. “Primus! When’d it get so late!? I’ve got to go!”  

“Wait,” Megatron struggled with the protocols demanding he keep Orion safe and the knowledge that the civilian was safer away from him. “I enjoyed our conversation. Would you be open to exchanging comm codes?” 

Orion’s optics widened, and his jaw dropped. “Wha- wait, really!? Yes! Uh, here…”  

The War-frame and Auto-frame exchanged comm codes before the latter had to rush off. Megatron watched him leave with narrowed optics as his processor sorted through this new development. This changed things.  

Chapter Text

[WARNING: TARGET IN DANGER] 

The blaring alert startled Megatron out of recharge.  

[RESPONSE: FIND TARGET] 

Megatron rolled off his berth and scrambled for the door.  

How did his system even know? Did he unknowingly have some kind of tracking feature installed?  

Megatron hastily sent a v-comm request to Orion as he strode towards the archives. He barely remembered to hide from the guards and civilian-frames along the way. The last thing he needed was to get busted for breaking curfew.

[MESSAGE REQUEST: DENIED] 

The silver Warframe snarled and sent it again. He was not taking no for an answer.  

[MESSAGE REQUEST: DENIED] 

The top of the Archive Hall came into view.  

Megatron quickened his pace. And it wasn’t just because of his protocols. Over the past few weeks, he’d come to like the smart and kind cybertronian. They’d debated almost every day. Orion cheerfully told him about his day and eagerly listened to Megatron even when the subject was unpleasant. They'd even met up in person a few times to share some energon. Orion was his friend.  

[MESSAGE REQUEST: ACCEPTED] 

“It’s about time,” Megatron growled. “Where are you?”  

[Ah,] Orion’s voice was strained. [Now’s kind of a bad time.]  

“Do I sound like I care?” Megatron snapped. “Send me the cords or I’m storming the Archive Hall.” 

Orion muted his side.  

Megatron neared the entrance of the hall.  

The v-comm clicked back online. [Okay, okay! You made your point. I’ll send you my cords. Don’t break into the Archive Hall! It's like you want to be arrested.]

“Waiting,” Megatron replied tersely.  

[Just give me a moment, will you?] Orion grumbled. 

Another agonizing moment passed before Orion gave the coordinates. He corrected himself twice before declaring that was the correct cords. 

[Hey, D, be careful, okay?] Genuine worry laced Orion’s voice; Megatron couldn’t even be mad at the nickname. [Don'twant you getting arrested, after all.] Orion chuckled, trying to play off his earlier concern. 

Megatron narrowed his optics. Orion's terrible acting couldn't be directed at him, he knew Megatron wouldn't fall for that, so he was with someone else he wanted to warn him about?  

“Who’s with you?” Megatron demanded. 

[Ah, that’s a bad idea,] Orion answered after a moment of silence. [You’d definitely get caught if you do that.]  

They were listening to Orion's side then. Yes or no questions, it was.

“Do they have guns?” Megatron asked as he ducked behind a building to avoid a guard. 

[Nope, don't think so. Hey, I’ve got to go, talk soon?] 

“Don’t you dare terminate this comm, Orion,” Megatron growled. “I’ll break your legs.”  

[Bye!] The comm clicked offline.  

Megatron cursed.  

The coordinates led Megatron to the entrance of an abandoned mine. The warning sign informed him that it was expected to collapse that very night. The gladiator eyed the opening uneasily. He cautiously entered the cavern.

Time to get his Archivist back.  

******

Two seeker warframes attempted to jump him a few Arns into the tunnel. They were insultingly easy to deal with. Megatron left them in pathetic heaps where they fell and kept moving.  

Each step made his impatience and anxiety grow. There was no telling when the mine would collapse; he needed to get Orion out of there.  

“-then the Great Magnificent Primus was able to shift the scales in his endless battle with the Evil Unicron. His new creations, the Primes, Prima, Vector Prime, Alpha Trion-” 

“Would you just get to the point?!” an unfamiliar voice snapped. 

Megatron edged around the corner.  

Orion and a pink femme-warframe sat on the ground, chains pinned their arms to their sides.  

Three warframes stood in front of them.  

Orion smirked. “Well, you did say to tell you everything I knew, so-”  

The largest bot slapped him.  

Megatron’s vision turned red, his battle protocols kicked online, but he didn’t move forward. He needed to get the three away from his friend before he acted.  

“Hey!” the pink warframe snapped. “Leave him alone! He’s an idiot, but still doesn’t deserve that! Pax, stop antagonizing them.”  

“Sorry,” Orion’s tone conveyed that he actually wasn’t sorry at all. “I didn’t realize their processors were so deficient that they didn’t know what they asked for-” 

The large warframe punched him in the gut, shoved a pede on his chassis, and loomed over the librarian. “You seem to be under the assumption that you can get out of this without telling us what we want.” The bot gestured to the cave around them. “This cave is going to close up soon, and if you don’t give us what we want, then my friends and I will just leave you and your friend here. Doesn’t that sound nice?”  

“Excuse me?” the pink bot spat, expression twisting in disgust. “I am NOT his friend.”  

“Ouch,” Orion grinned at her. “And here I thought we’d bonded.”  

“I’ll kill you,” she snapped back.  

The war-frame grabbed Orion by his neck and lifted him off his pedes. “Stop messing around,” he snarled. “Give us the access codes to-” 

Megatron didn’t hear the rest; he was already moving.  

His sword slid through the war-frame’s plating with an ear-piercing screech. The silver gladiator didn’t hesitate. He ripped the sword up, splitting the other war-frame in half before spinning to decapitate the second bot.  

The third enemy lunged with his own sword. Megatron ducked under the blow and thrust his blade through the bot’s optic.  

The three offlined Cybertronians clattered to the cave floor.  

The gladiator straightened, flicked the energon and scrap off his blade before retracting it back into his arm. He turned narrowed optics on Orion.  

“Oh, hey, D,” Orion greeted. “Fancy meeting you here.”  

The pink bot snapped her jaw shut. “Megatronus!? The gladiator champion of Kaon!? And you call him D!? What is wrong with you?”  

Megatron grunted. “That’s what we all want to know.”  

A rumbling sounded through the cave around them. The silver gladiator cursed and scooped up both smaller bots, securing them under his arms before bolting for the exit.  

The tunnel began to crumble behind them.  

“Oh, that’s bad,” Orion noted.  

“You think?!” the pink bot screeched. “If we die here, I’m going to offline you!”  

“I accept those terms,” Orion responded cheerily.  

Megatron dove out of the cavern entrance, shielding Orion and the pink one with his solid frame as the mine collapsed behind them. Debri bounced off his plating.  

Finally, the rumbling stopped.  

The silver mech rose to his feet and surveyed the damage. There was no indication that a mine had ever been there. Except for the warning sign, now painfully out of place. He grunted. “That was close.”  

“Can you free us now?” Orion asked meekly.  

Megatron glared at him. “No.” He started walking.  

“Uh, D?” Orion squirmed. “Elita and I should really get back to work.”  

“No.”  

“Are you serious?” Elita hissed. “First, you’re kidnapped by rebels, then by Megatronus himself?”  

“You’re here too,” Orion pointed out.  

“Only because I was with you,” Elita glared at the Archivist.  

They left the pristine streets of Iacon behind and entered the dark and unkept streets of the lower levels of Kaon.  

“Where are you taking us?” Elita demanded.  

“My home,” Megatron answered shortly.  

“Eh?” Orion gaped. “Why?”  

“You need medical assistance,” Megatron deadpanned. “And I don’t trust you to actually get it yourself. Ratchet lives in the same building as I do.”  

Orion laughed sheepishly. “Oh.” 

“Then why am I here?” Elita demanded.  

Megatron eyed her. “I’m considering whether or not I need to kill you.”  

She gaped at him with wide optics.  

“That’s a joke,” Orion assured her. “Right, D?”  

The silver warframe didn’t answer.  

“D? Come on, D. It’s a joke. Please say that was a joke. And he’s not answering me.”  The blue and red mech puffed a burst of air from his vents. 

[MESSAGE: TO DESIGNATION: D-16. FROM: DESIGNATION ORION PAX. - Hey, don't ignore me, D – MESSAGE END]  

Megatron quirked a brow at the archivist. “Is that really necessary?”  

The archivist grumbled as the warframe set him and his friend on the floor of his one-room home. “You were ignoring me.”  

The gladiator gripped the chains in one servo and crushed them.  

“Wow! How much grip strength do you have? I thought for sure these were pure iron.”  

“Nerd,” Megatron mocked as he sent a quick message to Ratchet.  

Elita stood, rubbed her now free arms, and glared at the other war-frame. She edged between Orion and Megatron.  

“What are you doing?” Megatron asked, unimpressed.  

She straightened her shoulders. “I am an Elite Guard in training at Iacon Acadamy, assigned for practical experience at the Archive Halls. My duty is to defend Archivist Orion Pax with my life if necessary.”  

Megatron snorted. As if he could hurt the archivist, even if he wanted to. “Relax, trainee. I don’t intend on hurting Orion.”  

Orion looked up from where he was riffling through Megatron’s shelves. “Oh, yeah, Elita, Megatron’s my friend. He’s a bit overprotective sometimes, but he’s good.”  

Elita gave Orion a flat look. “I don’t trust your instincts.”  

“You wound me,” Orion dramatically clutched his chassis. “After all we’ve been through today!”  

The door slid open to admit an angry medic into the room. “Megatronus! You'd better have a good reason for calling me in the- Orion? What are you- Scrap, what happened to your face?”  

Megatron happily stepped aside and let the medic scold someone else. Ratchet had been the head medic at the arena for only a few Diun, but Megatron already knew that it wouldn’t pay to get on his bad side.  

Orion didn’t seem cowed by the lecture at all, playfully bantering with the irritated medic. Elita looked like she wanted to disappear.  

Megatron narrowed his optics at her. He double-checked to make sure Orion was distracted before sidling up to the femme-frame.  

She glared at him. “What do you want?”  

“Orion is my friend,” Megatron stated. “But he’s reckless and too nice for his own good.”  

“That’s the truth,” Elita snorted. “This is only the second day of knowing him, and I can already see that.”  

“I can’t protect him all the time,” Megatron hedged, cataloguing her reactions.  

She narrowed her optics. “What are you getting at?”  

“It would benefit him to have allies in the Elite guard.”  

“You want me to stick around him?” Elita scoffed. “After all the trouble he’s caused me in just one night?”  

Megatron grinned. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t seem like the kind of bot to back away from a challenge.”  

The femme-frame frowned at him.  

“Think of it this way,” Megatron continued smoothly. “If you are friends with an archivist, it’ll be easier for you to get a hold of the information you need and push through the data work you need done.”  

Elita raised a brow. “Hm, you make valid points.”  

“And, if he is harmed when you could have protected him,” Megatron bared his sharp teeth. “You’ll be the first one I rip apart in revenge.”  

Elita gulped and looked away. “That’s a compelling argument.”  

The older war-frame just chuckled.  

Chapter Text

[WARNING: TARGET IS EMOTIONALLY COMPROMISED]  

Megatron covered his optics with his arm and groaned. Couldn’t this stupid mission give him a break?  

It’d been several Steller Cycles since he first met Orion, and he couldn’t go a single week without getting some kind of alert or warning about Orion’s status. Megatron didn’t really mind; he was glad he had a way to know if his reckless friend was in trouble, but it was the middle of the night, and Megatron was tired. He’d had a series of difficult battles in the arena, dealt with the higher-ups removing his essays from the archives entirely despite Orion’s protests, and tomorrow had another string of difficult opponents.  

The silver warframe reluctantly sent a V-Comm request to his friend.  

[V-COMM REQUEST: ACCEPTED] 

“Orion,” Megatron grumbled. “Go recharge already. It’s too late for you to be up brooding.”  

Orion’s strained laugher sounded through the link. [One day, I’m gonna figure out how you always know what’s going on with me.]  

“I have an ‘Orion is being an Idiot’ alarm,” Megatron deadpanned. “What’s wrong anyways?”  

The archivist didn’t respond right away. [I... I’m doing a bit of research, is all.]  

“A bit of research?” Megatron repeated sceptically. “It’s the middle of the night.”  

[I’m just working a bit late.]

Megatron sighed. “Ugh, you’re so annoying,” he considered their options. “Do you have work early tomorrow?”  

[I start work on the fourth megacycle. Why?] 

“Bring your research to my place,” the warframe ordered. “I’m not going to be able to recharge tonight unless you’re within sight.”  

[Oh,] Orion sounded uncertain. [Are you sure? I know you have been busy lately...]

“Just get over here. Bring your research if you have to.”  

[Thank you,] Orion replied softly.  

“Yeah, yeah,” Megatron brushed the gratitude off. He was doing this for his own benefit; he didn’t deserve the thanks. “Keep this line open until you get here. I want to know if you get kidnapped again.”  

[That is uncalled for,] Orion protested hotly. [That hasn’t happened that much.] 

“I’ve rescued you from kidnappers three times in the Stellar Cycles we’ve known each other,” Megatron pointed out.  

Orion huffed. [Those were outliers.]

“Uh-huh, just get over here, trouble-magnet.”  

******

It wasn’t supposed to be a revolution.  

Megatron wrote his essays, spread his ideas, and pushed for reform in the government of Cybertron. He wanted equality. Warframes should be able to choose paths beyond guard, gladiator, or soldier. Some warframes wanted to do things like paint, build, or handle administrative tasks. Some mechs wanted to race, femme’s who wanted to lead and build, auto-frames who wanted to explore, mini-cons who wanted freedom, mini-frames who wanted to be respected rather than dismissed for their smaller size. The Macro-frames wanted to be treated as more than objects. No bots, except for the Noble Class, were given any choice in their lives. Miners died every day as the mines began to close faster and faster, energon no longer flowed on the surface, and rations were unequally divided.  

Megatron spoke up for the oppressed. He called out their leaders and demanded reform. At first, just in his essays, but over time, his anger at the injustice led him to give impromptu speeches after his battles. A communications expert, designated Soundwave, approached him and offered to help him get past the restrictions the council and their appointed primes were putting on his work. Orion helped him gather information and access data from the archives despite the laws that prevented war-frames from studying at the Archive Hall.  

But then Sentinel Prime sent the Elite guard to arrest Soundwave.  

Soundwave was Megatron’s friend. His ally. He couldn’t stand by and do nothing.  

When the dust cleared Megatron and Soundwave stood in the rubble, bodies surrounding them, energon dripped from Megatron’s blade.  

They had to flee. But it didn’t end there. More and more bots, unhappy with the system, found him and pledged themselves to his cause. The silver warframe never intended to become a warlord, but he couldn’t abandon the bots that came seeking his aid.  

Orion protested the fighting and petitioned the council every Orn until they agreed to make concessions.  

Megatron and his followers were recognized as a faction by the Council of Noble Primes. They were granted Kaon as their home and told that changes would be made.  

But they lied. They put more and more restrictions on war-frames.  

Orion continued to speak to the Council, attempted to negotiate, and end the conflict without violence.  

Megatron let him try and did not argue much, but he didn’t put up with any of the injustice among his ranks, in his city, and if that was seen as rebellion in the optics of the Council, he was prepared to defend his faction with any means necessary. He had sentients who relied on him. No matter how much Orion detested war, he would not back down if it was the only path ahead.  

Chapter Text

[WARNING: TARGET IN DANGER] 

[RESPONSE: LOCATE TARGET] 

Megatron jolted, accidentally crushing the data pad in his servos.  

“What’s wrong, my lord?” one of his subordinates, Sky-something-or-other, asked.  

“Soundwave,” Megatron snapped. “Where is Orion Pax right now?”  

Soundwave took a moment to respond. “Answer: Orion Pax is speaking with the Council.”  

Megatron tossed the data pad to the side and strode for the door. “Mobilize anyone who wants to fight. We’re crashing the council meeting,” he didn’t wait for Soundwave’s response, already running towards the Council Hall in Iacon.  

[V-COMM REQUEST: DENIED] 

[V-COMM REQUEST: DENIED]

[WARNING: TARGET ENGAGED IN BATTLE]

[V-COMM REQUEST: DENIED] 

[V-COMM REQUEST: DENIED] 

[WARNING: TARGET DAMAGE AT 5%]  

Megatron viciously tore through all that stood between him and his goal. His system screamed at him to be faster, arrive sooner, PROTECT ORION.  

[WARNING: TARGET DAMAGE AT 10%] 

[V-COMM REQUEST: DENIED] 

The newly declared warlord blasted through the council doors, took half a second to identify the enemies, and attacked.  

Orion was locked in a grapple with an autoframe bot. Elita at his back skillfully holding off three war-frame elite guards. The council was on their pedes, but didn’t interfere.  

A tiny sparkling cowered behind Orion, beeping in distress.  

Megatron gutted the bot who dared attack his friend.  

Orion stumbled back, regained his bearings, and scooped up the little spark. He glared at Sentinel Prime, standing at the forefront of the council. His optics burned with rage. “You,” he spat. “You are a disgrace to the title of Prime!”  

Sentinel’s facade of concern and just discipline crumpled. He sneered at the bot. “You have been a thorn in my side for too long, Orion Pax! I look forward to seeing you offline! How sad everyone will be to learn of your death at the hands of the very bots you sought to help.”  

Megatron vaguely registered that Sentinel was planning on framing him and his people. His targeting system fixed on Sentinel.  

[MISSION ALERT: DESIGNATION SENTINEL IS A DANGER TO THE TARGET]

[RESPONSE: TERMINATE DESIGNATION SENTINEL]

[INITIATING TARGETTED BATTLE PROTOCOLS] 

Megatron didn’t fight his system for once. Orion was in danger as long as Sentinel still functioned.  

The blue and gold prime yelped as Megatron lunged at him and barely managed to dodge. Megatron yanked his blade from the ruined throne and charged at the Prime again. The other councilors scrambled away, Sentinel and Ultra Magnus being the only warriors among them, and their bodyguards blocked Megatron. He easily dispatched the obstacles.  

[WARNING: TARGET DAMAGE AT 20%] 

Megatron pulled back and scanned the fray for Orion. He spotted the Archivist shoving a stolen blade into one of the war-frame’s legs, allowing Elita to gain the upper hand. He had a nasty blaster burn on his side.  

Sentinel swung his sword, aimed at the silver war-frame’s head. Megatron blocked it and adjusted his stance to steady himself.  

“Distracted, are you?” Sentinel mocked.  

“I don’t need to be focused to beat you,” Megatron growled back.  

Sentinel sneered, anger flashing in his optics. He advanced with a series of heavy blows. Megatron met each one, allowing himself to be pushed back as he analysed the Prime’s fighting abilities. The Prime wasn’t a slouch; his blows were precise and powerful. But Megatron had been fighting for a long time.  

[WARNING: TARGET DAMAGE AT 50%] 

The blaring of the warning didn’t drown out Orion’s pained cry.  

Megatron burst on the offensive; he knocked aside every blow Sentinel tried to land and returned it in kind. The prime stumbled back, panic taking over his expression. Megatron didn’t wait to gloat. He stabbed at the Prime, who dodged desperately. The gladiator’s blade tore into his shoulder, pinning him to the floor. He screamed.  

The silver warframe didn’t stop. He tore his blade free, thrust it into Sentinel’s helm, then launched himself toward Orion.  

More guards had arrived while Megatron had been distracted. Two of them had cornered the Archivist. The warlord barreled into one, throwing him across the room, and shot the other three times in the face.  

Orion gaped. Megatron scanned him. The damage wasn’t pressing; he’d managed to avoid any critical injuries, but he was still damaged. That was unacceptable.  

An explosion echoed through the corridors.  

“Elita,” Megatron snapped. “We’re falling back to my bots.”  

Elita took up a position on Orion’s left. “Got it. I’ll guard Pax’s back.”  

Megatron shook his head as he shot his cannon at an idiot who thought they could sneak up on him. “No, guard mine.” He grabbed Orion and secured him under one arm.The mech yelped and clutched the sparkling to his chassis. “Orion’s too slow.”  

Elita snorted. “Hah.”  

Orion huffed. “Rude.”  

They ran.  

The Elite guard followed, firing the whole way.  

One of the councilors cursed and shouted. “Don’t kill Orion Pax yet, you fools! We need him!”  

The guards switched their blasters to stun before continuing their barrage.  

“Scrap,” Orion cursed.  

Megatron grabbed Elita, made a sharp turn, and blasted through the wall.  

Elita screeched, gripping his arm with a death grip. They fell out of the hall past the main street and further down to the lower levels of Iacon. Megatron stuck the landing and started sprinting. He activated his comm. “Soundwave, order our bots to fall back. Fortify Kaon.” he terminated the comm, trusting Soundwave to follow his orders.  

“I don’t suppose we can make a stop at the archives?”  

“Shut up, Orion.”  

“I didn’t think so.”  

******

After the raid on the Council Hall, Megatron and his followers were labeled Decepticons for their deception of Cybertron by claiming to want peace.

Megatron embraced the new title, proudly declaring that they were Decepticons because they aimed to reveal the Deception of the Council and False Primes.  

Sentinel Prime survived the fight, barely, and viciously led an assault on Kaon searching for revenge for his new scars. 

The siege of Kaon stretched on for Duins.  

Orion dug old strategy guides from his memory banks and joined Megatron in his war meetings. At first he only observed, but as the orns passed, he began to offer advice and make suggestions. About midway through he seige he started planning entire battles himself. Megatron always scruitized the plans with a critial eye before approving anything, but the archivist's plans were airtight. And they worked too.   

They powered up a bunch of old vehicles that were used before the city was remodeled to work for nearly any frame type, filled them with explosives, and sent them into the enemy lines. During the following chaos, Megatron and his bots charged one section of the blockade and demolished it before retreating. They repeated this several more times with different distractions before the enemy caught on.  

Orion coordinated resources and people to keep their city stocked despite the siege. As the Diuns wore on, it was the Council's forces that were wearing down.  

The siege finally broke completely when Megatron and his warriors, instead of retreating after their customary raid on the blockade, charged the next section.  

The bots serving the council broke in terror and fled.  

The news spread quickly. Orion attempted to direct the narrative, but it was too late. Fighting broke out across the planet. More and more energon was spilled.  

Megatron concluded that the only way to end the fighting was to win. Remove the Council from the equation. Orion disagreed. They argued for Quintuns, back and forth.  

And then Starscream arrived.  

Starscream was the Airlord, the leader of the Seekers of Vos. Despite his non-official position, as the title Airlord wasn’t recognized by the council, Starscream wielded a lot of power through his control of the energon deposits the Seekers discovered and sold. He made a deal with Megatron: he would help Megatron win the war, and in exchange, Starscream would be officially recognized as the Airlord and treated as such. Orion opposed working with Starscream, arguing that the seeker had a reputation for being cruel to his bots, a coward, and power hungry. Megatron refused to listen.  

He led the Decepticons and the seekers to storm Iacon.  

Chapter Text

Orion had never been a normal bot. He knew that. As a sparkling, his protocols demanded he stay near the head Archivist Alpha Trion. He later learned that Alpha Trion was the last of the original thirteen Primes and was not permitted to leave the Archive hall or have contact with others outside the hall due to refusing orders from the Council.

As a youngling, he would escape his caretakers to break into the archives and be with the aging prime. The older mech taught him how the archive hall worked, trained him in politics, and guided him through his growth.

By the time he became a Matureling, he knew how to do every task in the archives. Alpha Trion officially declared him his successor and coded the archive hall to accept only Orion as the new Head Archivist.

Everyone started treating Orion differently. He was no longer an annoying sparkling to be ignored or disciplined. He now had the entirety of the knowledge of Cybertron at his fingertips and the sole power to decide who else got access to that knowledge. He was a threat, a pawn, a naive child to manipulate in their eyes.

Orion hated it. He was a bot. An archivist. That was it. He hated how the other bots treated him.  It had already been difficult for him to find Cybertronians willing to bond with him, and now anyone interested in the idea wanted to manipulate him with it. His position isolated him. As an avid reader and scholar, Orion knew how damaging it could be for a Matureling to not get the connection with others they needed. Especially since his primary caretaker had become one with the Well of Sparks.

So when a grumpy medic started visiting the archives to learn more about an interesting variety of topics and complain about the stuck-up medical officers that didn’t care for preserving the lives of the ones in their care, Orion immediately grew attached. Ratchet treated him like an annoying Matureling; he didn’t dismiss Orion, nor did he act like Orion knew everything. He was snarky and cranky, but he was genuine. Ratchet was the one to introduce him to the work of the gladiator Megatronous.

Everybot always said that warframes were only good for battle and had no other uses, yet Megatronous wrote deep, compelling articles on society, corruption, politics, and civil rights. He had a presence that drew others in. An aura of power and confidence. Orion soon found himself reading every one of his essays and articles, watching every one of his fights, and analyzing his combat. He was obsessed.

Yet he never dreamed he’d get to meet the gladiator!

Megatronous seemed to take one look at him and decide that Orion couldn’t be trusted to function on his own. The gladiator started checking up on him at random points, debating with him like he respected and valued Orion’s input, helping him out of whatever scrap he’d gotten into, and going out of his way to be there for the archivist.

Orion was thrilled. He wasn’t sure how Megatronous always knew when he needed him, but he wasn’t going to question it too much. He knew that his lack of Matureling bonds likely caused him to cling to the silver gladiator so much, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He did however, feel secure enough in their friendship to tease the warframe for the fact that Megatronous, or Megatron for short, wasn’t his real designation, because he’d never taken a designation beyond his sparkling days. Officially, he was still designated D-16. Megatron just rolled his optics whenever the younger bot brought it up.

Both of them protested the injustice and corruption in the system. Megatron gave impassioned speeches that drew more and more bots to his cause. Orion worked in the background, speaking to the council and higher-ranked bots. He couldn’t help feeling useless as he was dismissed and rejected every time. Megatron, Ratchet, and Elita were the only ones who supported him during this time. Without their support, Orion didn’t know where he’d be.

But then the council demanded he relinquish his position as Head Archivist, all because he had confronted them after discovering an abused and neglected sparkling in a training program they had approved. It didn't take long for the red and blue mech to realize what the bots actually wanted. They wanted to know how to create a Chosen Prime. To force the mantle onto one they chose.

Orion refused.

Now, Cybertron was tearing itself apart.

[PRIMARY MISSION: PROTECT AND GUIDE CYBERTRON AND CYBERTRONIANS]

He ignored the message with practiced ease.

[MISSION STATUS: ACTIVE]

Brilliant move really, giving this mission to an archivist with no fighting capabilities to speak of and no chance of convincing anyone short of Megatron to listen to him. He could negotiate sure, but guiding was different. Negotiating was a neural position, guiding was the opisite of neutral.

[MISSION OBJECTIVE: RETURN TO THE SPARK]

What did that even mean? The All-spark, perhaps? Primus’ spark? The Well of Sparks? Was he supposed to die? Couldn’t it be clearer?

[SECONDARY MISSION: KEEP KNOWLEDGE OF PRIMUS]

[MISSION STATUS: ACTIVE]

Orion leaned over the datapads of battle strategies, resource charts, and intelligence reports. He blinked away the message. He didn’t have time for that.

[MISSION OBJECTIVE: BACK-UP AND DOWNLOAD ARCHIVES.]

He couldn’t just ignore the missions that Primus programmed into his very spark. No one could, it would eventually wear them down.

Breaking into the archives when you’re the only one with the key is easy. Downloading and backing up the data was just as easy. No one noticed the activity thanks to the assault on Iacon. Orion hoped to be back in Kaon before Megatron realized what he’d done. The warframe had ordered him to stay in the most secure place in Kaon until the battle ended. Elita had orders to help him evacuate if worst came to worst. Orion felt a bit bad for ditching her so he could come here.

He ducked behind a building, and a cluster of elite guards ran past towards the source of the explosions and blaster fire.

Orion tracked them until they vanished from view, then he moved to skirt around the battlefield.

Something heavy slammed into his back. He skidded across the ground with a yelp. Heavy pedes pressed deep into his back.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the little archivist,” Starscream sneered. “And here I thought Megatron wouldn’t have allowed you out of his little fortress.”

Orion huffed, lifting his head to glare at the seeker as best he could. “What are you doing over here, Starscream? The battle’s over there.”

Starscream pressed harder on his back, causing his plating to creak under the pressure. Orion drew in a sharp breath. “It’s Airlord Starscream to you,” the seeker hissed. “And you are a thorn in my side.”

Orion’s optics widened. “What?” he struggled to stand, but the jet-bot didn’t budge.

“So long as you’re around, I’ll never get the respect and power I deserve,” Starscream chuckled. “You hold Megatron’s ear more than any other bot. I can’t stand it.”

Orion’s communicator beeped.

[V-COMM REQUEST: FROM DESIGNATION D-16]

“I need to answer that,” Orion warned.

Starscreamed leaned forward and dug his claws into the archivist's audio receptior and communicator port. Orion shouted in protest and struggled. The airlord ripped the device out of his helm.

For a moment, Orion’s processor stalled, then the pain hit. He screamed and clutched his shattered receptior.

“So weak,” Starscream sneered. “Pathetic,” he stepped back. Before Orion could rise, the Airlord kicked him in the chassis. The Archivist tumbled back. The seeker kicked him again. The blue and red bot scraped against the metal ground. His pedes slipped off the road. He scrabbled for a handhold and latched onto the edge of the platform. He glanced over his shoulder, optics wide. He dangled over a straight drop to the heart of Cybertron. The Well of Sparks.

“Starscream,” Orion gasped. “Megatron will hear about this; you won’t be able to hide this from him.”

“Ha! What will he do about it?” Starscream knelt and grinned at the terrified civilian-frame. “Half of his army is loyal to me. He can’t do anything to me. Not without costing himself half his power.”

Orion met the other bot’s red optics. “You are seriously underestimating Megatron. He’ll kill you.”

“We’ll see,” Starscream raised a brow mockingly. “Well, I’ll see. You, I’m afraid, were ambushed by some elite guards while traipsing through Iacon and met an unfortunate end.” The jet raised his blaster and pointed it in Orion’s face.

[WARNING: DANGER SIGHTED]

No duh, Captain Obvious!

[RESPONSE: RETURN TO THE SPARK]

Wait, what?

Orion’s servos let go without his input. Starscream grew smaller and smaller.

No wait, Orion was falling.

[MISSION OBJECTIVE: ACCOMPLISHED]

Why in all the universe was one of his mission objectives to fall to his death!? What was wrong with his system!?

Orion braced himself for impact, but it never came.

A warm, almost too warm, feeling encompassed him. An aura surrounded him.

[DESIGNATION ORION PAX]

The alert was echoed by a deep voice.

[YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN AS THE NEXT PRIME]

Orion opened his optics. Blinding light surrounded him. He could make out vague figures, but that was all.

[YOUR DESIGNATION WILL BE OPTIMUS PRIME. YOU WILL PROTECT AND GUIDE ALL CYBERTRONIANS. YOU WILL UPHOLD JUSTICE AND KEEP MY KNOWLEDGE.]

The plating and mechanics of Orion’s body began to shift and move. More metal was added. He watched in awe as new systems were added and adjusted.

[WEAPONS SYSTEM: ONLINE]

[BATTLE PROTOCOLS: INSTALLED]

[MAX CAPACITY: REACHED. EXPANDING...]

Orion could feel the damage to his ear being repaired.

[DIRECT COMMUNICATION LINE: ACTIVE. INITIALIZING START-UP SEQUENCE]

[MAX CAPACITY: EXPANDED]

[PROTECTION PROTOCOLS: EXPANDING...]

[EMERGENCY PROTOCOLS: ONLINE]

[FORGE: INSTALLED]

Orion watched his body change around him. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

An orb broke away from the rest of the light, and metal flew through the air to encase the sphere. It approached Orion.

[YOU WILL UNDERSTAND IN TIME WHAT THIS ALL MEANS]

Ah, yes, very comforting, weird voice.

[OPTIMUS PRIME. YOU WILL BE ENTRUSTED WITH THE MATRIX OF LEADERSHIP. BEAR THIS BURDEN WELL.]

The orb burst forward. Orion flinched as it collided with his chassis. His processor screeched as it was overwhelmed.

Orion gasped, then fell limp, sinking into stasis.

[MATRIX OF LEADERSHIP: INTEGRATING INTO SYSTEMS. LOADING...]

Chapter Text

Megatron’s spark was lodged in his throat. He paced the length of the Council hall. The battle was over, but he couldn’t celebrate. Not while Orion was missing.

He’d been battling Sentinel and two other Primes when he’d got the alert.

[WARNING: TARGET IN DANGER.]

He’d immediately commed his friend.

How’d he even manage to get into trouble in Kaon of all places?

[V-COMM REQUEST: FAILURE. DESIGNATION ORION PAX OFFLINE]

Megatron wasn’t entirely sure what happened after that. He’d come to with the wreckage of a massacre around him, Sentinel’s helm clutched in one servos. Every bot gave him a wide berth with cautious and awed looks. As soon as he gathered his wits, he’d hastily brought up his mission logs.

[PRIMARY MISSION: PROTECT AND SUPPORT DESIGNATION OPTIMUS PRIME]

Why had it reverted to that designation? It had been changed to Orion Pax when he’d first laid optics on him.

[MISSION STATUS: ACTIVE]

[TARGET STATUS: DAMAGE AT 2%. SELF-REPAIR PROTOCOLS ACTIVE. NO IMMEDIATE DANGER DETECTED.]

He was alive. At least he was alive.

The warlord commed Elita. She reported that Orion snuck out, and she’d spent the better part of the battle attempting to track him down. Soundwave sent him the news that the Archives Hall was found stripped and empty.

Megatron couldn’t believe how stupid his friend was. Sneaking out in the middle of the battle in order to... do something with the archives. Whatever he’d been trying to do. The silver war-frame ordered all available bots to be on the lookout for the missing archivist. He should be out looking. But after sustaining some damage to his shoulder from a would-be assassin while searching, Soundwave insisted he remained in the council chambers until Orion had been found. Apparently, he was too distracted to be of any use.  

The remaining councilors of Iacon cowered away from him, allowing him the peace he needed to stomp a grove into the floor. He wished they’d managed to capture all the councilors, but Ultra Magnus had led them out of his range. The infuriating bot that he was.

[STATUS UPDATE: DESIGNATION ORION PAX ENTERED STASIS]

Megatron growled in frustration. Couldn’t the stupid system just tell him where his friend was?

One of the councilors gathered her courage and stepped forward. “Mega- Lord Megatron,” she began.

The silver bot spun around to face her, snarl fixed on his face, blade and ion cannon at the ready. “What?” he snapped.

She quailed before him but didn’t back down. “L-lord Megatron. Y-you have won. Iacon is yours. However, without the support of the Primes, the rest of Cybertron will remain in civil war.”

Megatron clenched his jaw. “Cybertron will be free of false primes. Don’t try to manipulate me, councilor. You and your companions will be stripped of your rank.”

“You will doom Cybertron,” she warned.

“I will save Cybertron,” he snapped. “I will protect Cybertron. Better than any of you ever did.”

The door opened, and Starscream sauntered in. “Lord Megatron,” he greeted smoothly. “Iacon is secured. We should set out at once to continue our conquest.”

“No,” Megatron snapped. “Orion Pax is missing. We’re not leaving until he is found!”

Starscream’s expression soured. “Why? We don’t need useless scraps. It’s not like he can fight-”

Megatron wrapped a servo around the seeker’s throat and lifted him off his pedes. “Do you want to repeat that?” he hissed.

Starscream’s optics widened. “N-no!” he gurgled. “My apologies! That wasn’t what I meant!”

The warlord let the bot fall into a heap on the floor and turned back to his pacing.

The door opened again, and Soundwave entered. He walked past Starscream impassively.

“Status update,” Soundwave intoned emotionlessly. “Designation Orion Pax located. Subject in deep stasis. Medical Officer Ratchet: contacted for assistance.”

Some of the tension left Megatron’s frame. “Good, thank you, Soundwave.”

Starscream scowled and rose to his pedes. “Oh, joy.”

Megatron narrowed his optics, causing the jet-bot to give him a nervous chuckle. “Where was Orion found?”

“Answer: beside the Well of Sparks.”

The warlord frowned at that information. If Orion had been trying to skirt around the battlefield after leaving the archive hall, that would be in his path, but what happened while he was there? “Assign Orion guards you trust. I don’t want anyone with even slightly questionable loyalties near him.”

Soundwave bowed, then left.

Megatron turned back to the council. “Now,” he purred, enjoying the increase in fear on their faces. “Let’s talk about our future.”

Chapter Text

Ratchet grimly surveyed the young archivist on his medical table.

“What happened to him?” Megatron asked, attempting to squeeze himself in the corner so as to not get in the medic’s way.

“I don’t know,” Ratchet admitted. He pulled up two scans and put them side-by-side. “In the few cycles that Pax was missing he managed to somehow gain not just a cosmetic change, but an internal one too.”

Megatron looked at the still red and blue bot he called his friend. He barely looked like the same bot. He was bigger now, still a hister or two smaller than Megatron, but he definitely grew taller. His shoulders were broader, he had thicker plating- armor- and his helm was no longer smooth, sharp ridges now accented his faceplates. The oddest change was the ear finals, which were unusually tough and sturdy.

“He has weapons systems now,” Ratchet noted.

“He what now?” Megatron turned his attention back to the medic.

Ratchet pointed to a highlighted part of the second graph. “Here, here, and here, it looks like he now has three different weapons systems built in. Ion canons and blades for sure. I’m not sure about the last one though. Some kind of energy construct I’d wager.”

“How is this possible?” the siler warlord furrowed his brow. “These kind of upgrades takes Stellar Cycles and sometimes they’re not even possible.”

“I don’t know,” Ratchet repeated, optic twitching.

“What do you know?” Megatron demanded.

“I know that Orion’s entire frame is changed,” Ratchet snapped back. “These pieces here are common in femme frames, these are definitely auto-frame, but the structure is more war-frame, and this looks like an aerial-frame piece! It’s not possible to combine so many frame types. Not to mention these new chambers in his chassis.”

Megatron tried to follow along with Ratchet’s pointing, but he quickly got lost. “He has new chambers in his chassis?”

“Along with his spark and t-cog, he now has two others,” Rachet explained. “One is fairly near to the surface, and it looks like it has a piece designed to be removable, but the other is deeper, behind his spark chamber.”

The idea of someone opening Orion up to add the upgrades made Megatron want to empty his fuel tanks.

 “Orion will stay in the med bay until he wakes up and passes my inspection,” Ratchet declared stubbornly.

“I’m staying with him.”

The medic sent him a withering look. “Fine. I’ll set him up in a private room. But if you start neglecting your duties, I’ll kick you out.”

Megatron gave a short nod.

He would take care of his duties, and he would guard Orion. He could do both. And after Soundwave found the ones responsible for this, he would dismantle them in the most painful way possible. 

******

[STATUS UPDATE: DESIGNATION OPTIMUS PRIME LEAVING STASIS]

Megatron jolted and looked up from the ever-growing stack of data pads he had to deal with. He never realized how much data work was required for taking over and ruling a planet. Especially with the dwindling supply of energon both in the mines and on the surface.

Orion’s optics came online.

“Orion?” Megatron asked hopefully.

“Ow,” Orion grumbled.

“Serves you right,” Megatron complained, his spark fluttering in relief. “Do you know how worried Ratchet and Elita have been for you? You could have died! Why’d you leave Kaon? You couldn’t wait to go to the archives until after the battle? What happened to you?”

Orion carefully sat up, politely ignoring the way Megatron hovered by his elbow in case he needed help. “That’s a lot of questions,” he patted himself. “And I’m intact. That’s a relief. I had the weirdest dream.”

Megatron’s optic twitched. “That so?”

“Yeah,” Orion continued, oblivious to Megatron's annoyance. “It was so weird! I fell into the Well of Sparks and then- did you shrink?”

The silver mech gave his friend a flat look. “Orion.”

The red and blue bot tilted his head. “Yes?”

“I’m going to break your legs.”

“What? I didn’t do anything!”

“Stand up,” Megatron ordered.

Orion obeyed and reset his optics. He looked up at Megatron, then around them to the private medical room they were occupying. “...Okay, so I grew. It wasn’t a dream.” he sat heavily on the berth. “Oh, Primus. I met Primus.” he buried his face in his servos.

Megatron reset his optics. 

What? Just what?

He commed Ratchet and sat down beside Orion. “You met Primus?”

“I fell into the Well- no, someone pushed me? I don’t remember-”

Megatron’s spark boiled with rage at the thought of someone throwing his friend down the Well of Sparks.

“And then one of my mission objects said it was complete and there was a bright light,” Orion paused, thinking deeply. “I think I fell all the way to Primus’ spark. He spoke to me... It’s fuzzy.”

The door opened, and Ratchet stormed in. “Pax,” he snapped. “You’ve gotten yourself in a mess this time.”

Orion chuckled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. “Ah, sorry, Ratchet.”

The medic grumbled as he started the check-up. At some point, he brought up the new scan of Orion.

The archivist gasped. “Ratchet! Where did you get that? Why do you have that? Put it away!”

Ratchet and Megatron gave him an odd look. “Orion,” Ratchet said carefully. “This is you.”

Orion reset his optics. “Ha, good one. No, that’s not me.”

“Are you accusing me of lying?” Ratchet put his servos on his hips and glared at the younger bot.

“No!” Orion shrank back. “Of course not, but...” he looked at the scan again and gulped. “That chamber there,” he pointed to the one in the back. “That’s a forge. Only the thirteen original primes and two other Chosen Primes had one of these.”

Megatron stared at his friend. “A forge.”

“Yeah,” Orion frowned at the semantics. “And the combination of builds is unique to those primes as well. As for this third chamber here, I’ve only seen that in two bots. Prima and Alpha Tron.”

The Medic and Warlord exchanged a loaded look.

“Orion,” Megatron asked carefully. “You said you met Primus.”

Ratchet’s optics widened.

“Yes, he-” Orion trailed off. “He talked? I think? To me.”

“What did he say?” Ratchet pressed.

“He said that I have a new name.” Orion frowned. “Optimus. Optimus Prime.”

Megatron froze.

Optimus Prime.

[PRIMARY MISSION: PROTECT AND SUPPORT DESIGNATION OPTIMUS PRIME]

The name that had haunted his entire existence.

“Are you okay, D?” Orion asked, concern written on his face.

Megatron pondered the question. “...My Primary Mission. My Primary Mission is to protect and support Optimus Prime.”

Orion’s optics widened.

“I looked, but there wasn’t anybot by that name. I thought it was a fluke,” the silver warframe admitted. “Then I met you and my system treated you like- I should have seen something like this coming.”

Ratchet ran a servo over his face. “Well, alright then. Orion’s now a Prime, and apparently Megatron is his Lord Protector.”

Megatron frowned. “What’s a Lord Protector?”

Orion gasped, optics shining. “Really? Amazing! Lord Protectors are awesome! Primus created a warrior for each of his Primes; they were called Lord Protectors. They were the Prime’s right-hand, and each one was a legendary warrior. It was said that just one of them could take on a whole army on their own!”

“Huh,” Megatron considered the new information. “And that’s what I am?”

“It explains why you always know when Orion- sorry, Optimus- is in trouble, and how you became such an accomplished warrior so quickly,” Ratchet mused.

“I get alerts when he’s in danger,” Megatron offered.

Orion tilted his head. “That explains so much.”

Ratchet nodded. “Yes, Ori-Opimus, did Primus say anything else?”

The red and blue mech paused thoughtfully before touching his chassis. The plates opened with a click to reveal an orb set in a metal holder. “He entrusted the Matrix of Leadership to me.” His voice seemed to echo with ancient wisdom in that moment.

Megatron stared at the Matrix in awe. The artifact was spoken about in legends, but he never thought he would get to see it in person.

“He tasked me with protecting and guiding Cybertron,” Orion looked up at Megatron. The ancient aura abated, leaving just Orion’s terrified optics. “D, I-I can’t be a Prime. I’m not- I'm just an archivist. I can’t be a Prime. There are more qualified bots-”

[WARNING: TARGET IS EMOTIONALLY COMPROMISED.]

The warframe grabbed Orion by his shoulders. “Orion Pax. You are the most qualified bot I know. So shut up and accept it. You're a Prime. And I’m your Lord Protector. Which means that if you say anything stupid, it’s my job to whack you upside the head and break your legs.”

The new prime let out a startled laugh. “That’s-” he shook his helm. “I’m going to have to teach you about Lord Protectors properly.”

Ratchet closed the sematics and withdrew the data-cyclinder. He proceeded to wipe the hard drive of the medical equipment. “We need a plan.”

Megatron and Orion turned their attention to Ratchet.

“You might be too young to remember,” Ratchet explained in a lecture voice. “But the Prime that held the Matrix would go to the great forge every Stellar Cycle to perform a secret ceremony. That practice kept energon flowing all year long.”

Both younger bots’ optics widened.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Megatron murmured. “We can have energon flowing freely again?”

“We can, but that’s not all.” Ratchet paced the length of the small room. “The Quintessons have always targeted Chosen Primes for their ability to forge new sparks. If they find out you have a forge, you’ll be in danger. You’ll need guards, not just Megatron. Not just from the Quintessons either, there will be a lot of sentinents, other cybertronians included, who will want to take advantage of you, or terminate you.”

Megatron nodded thoughtfully. “I see. I can create a team of trustworthy bots. Elita will be the captain, obviously.”

Orion looked shell-shocked.

“And medical care,” Ratchet interjected. “You need a couple of trusted doctors. You can’t go to just any doctor. Your semantics are incredibly valuable, there’s a reason the past Prime’s semantics are so heavily encrypted in the Archives.”

“You’re going to be one of them,” Megatron decided. “You’re now his primary physision.”

“We’ll have to see if there’s anything in the Archives about the details of the ceremony,” Ratchet added. He huffed and glared at Orion. “Which would be easier if someone hadn’t emptied the Archives and then fallen into stasis for five orns.”

Orion winced. “I am sorry, Ratchet. My Secondary Mission Objective insisted that I needed to copy, download, and delete the original files at the Archive Hall. I did not mean to cause you more trouble.”

Ratchet shuttered his optics. “You have a Secondary Mission.”

“Yes.” Orion frowned. "Is that bad?" 

“That implies that you have a Primary Mission too.”

“Yeah, my Primary Mission is to protect and guide Cybertronians,” Orion glanced at Megatron. "What?"

“Do you know how rare it is to have a Primary Mission? Much less a Secondary one as well?” Ratchet asked flatly.

Orion nodded. “Of course. There are only a little under forty cases of- oh. I should have said something sooner.”

“Yes!” Ratchet exploded. He groaned and rubbed his helm. “Idiot. You should have told someone!”

“Alpha Trion knew,” Orion offered.

Megatron choked on nothing. “What?”

“Alpha Trion knew,” Orion repeated. “He helped me learn to deal with the constant alerts and messages.”

“You knew the last of the Thirteen Primes?” Megatron rasped tightly.

Orion paused again. “That’s not normal, is it?”

“No, no, it is not,” Ratchet agreed. He sighed. “Of course, most bots also don’t break out of their homes and into the archive hall. Nothing about you is normal.”

The red bot slumped. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Ratchet grunted. “Never said it was bad. Annoying maybe. But not bad.”

Orion smiled softly. “Thanks, Ratchet.”

Megatron's processor spun with the overload of new information. He pursed his lips and frowned. Now to see if this would make protecting Orion easier or more difficult. 

Chapter Text

Their new strategy was simple. Orion would stay out of public view for as long as possible, at least a few Duin, so that they could justify his sudden upgrades. Not too many bots saw him after the Well, so it should be manageable to convince the world that he just got some new cosmetic upgrades. He would carry out his duties as Prime in secret; publicly, he would just be Megatron’s Head Archivist.

Elita yelled at Orion for a solid fifteen cycles after learning what had happened. Then she began compiling a list of bots she would trust to guard the new Prime. Megatron wasn’t looking forward to the interviews.

The Archives didn’t reveal anything about the stellar ceremony. The records said that the Prime holding the Matrix of Leadership would enter the forge with their Lord Protector and emerge a few Orns later. The last instance of the ceremony being performed was the Stellar Cycle that Alpha Trion lost his Lord Protector. He refused to leave the archives after the tragedy.

Megatron wasn’t pleased with the lack of information, but Orion seemed oddly calm at the lack of substantial knowledge. They decided to attempt the ceremony as soon as possible. It was essential for them to regain free-flowing energon. At that point, most of Cybertron bowed to Megatron’s rule. A few pockets of rebels remained, but the fighting had come to a lull. There wouldn’t be a better time.

Orion, Ratchet, Megatron, and Elita made their way to the Great Forge under the surface of Cybertron.

Megaton marveled at the structure. A massive dome with sigils engraved across its finish. It floated in the center of a large, spacious cavern that glowed energon blue. A walkway connected the tunnel to the dome.

“Wow,” Elita marveled. “It’s beautiful.”

“What do we do now?” Ratchet asked.

Orion stepped forward onto the walkway; his optics gleamed with something ancient. “You wait here,” he ordered. “D and I will go on alone.” He strode forward, helm held high, a new certainty in his movements. Megatron followed silently in his wake.

The inside of the forge was almost more impressive than the outside. A network of energon cables connected multiple massive data cylinders and generators. One generator whirled gently, a massive spark forming in its chassis. Another generator had two smaller, nearly formed sparks.

Orion passed the generators and cylinders without pausing. He stopped atop a dais in the center of the dome.

Megatron came to a stop beside him.

The blue and red bot knelt on the dais and shut his optics.

[STATUS UPDATE: TARGET HAS ENTERED MEDITATIVE STASIS. TARGET IS VULNERABLE. RESPONSE: STAND GUARD]

[UPDATE: STELLAR CEREMONY INITIATED]

Megatron dismissed the messages and stationed himself facing the door with his back to his friend. No one would get past him.

******

Unbeknownst to the bots waiting at the forge, energon bubbled up from the core of the planet almost immediately after the ceremony began. The life-giving fuel poured from the Well of Sparks into the aqueducts network spanning the entire surface. Mechanically, fauna drew in the energy greedily. Cybertronians across Cybertron gathered by the streams.

No one could explain what had changed.

Every faction demanded answers. Some prepared to battle for the new supply of power.

Why had the energon returned to the surface? How long would it flow? The unrest intensified as the questions remained unanswered.

Soundwave barely maintained control over Iacon as the bots panicked; even the Decepticons were freaking out. It didn’t help that Megatron was nowhere to be found. Starscream idly suggested that with Megatron missing, he should take charge and lead Cybertron. Soundwave glared at him until he backed down, and then made a note to punch Megatron when he returned for all the trouble he caused. Would it deactivate him to give his friend some warning before doing things like this?

******

[UPDATE: TARGET LEAVING MEDITATIVE STASIS]

Megatron turned to Orion again, a bit confused. It had only been a few megacycles.

Orion’s optics onlined. He blearily shuttered his optics before attempting to stand. Megatron lunged forward and caught him as he crumpled.

“Orion,” Megatron scanned him, but nothing looked wrong. “What’s wrong?”

“Tired,” Orion murmured, his optics dimming.

Megatron scooped the smaller bot into his arms and strode towards the door. “I’m taking you to Ratchet. We can finish this later.”

“No need,” Orion clumsily patted his shoulder. “Already done.”

The silver war-frame’s brow furrowed. Why would all the records say several Orns when in reality it only took a few megacycles?

Ratchet and Elita shared in Megaton’s concern when they saw the state of their Archivist friend.

They quickly returned to the palace they’d commandeered for their headquarters.

Soundwave was waiting for Megatron and updated him on the status of the planet. Megatron reluctantly left Orion’s side to address the panicking masses.

The video broadcast was watched by nearly every single bot on Cybertron. Starscream stood a few steps behind him as he stood before the crowd, watching with a careful, calculating look.

“Greetings, bots of all frame types,” Megatron began. “I understand that some of you are concerned about the recent changes on our planet. I am here today to assure you that there is no reason to be concerned. Energon will always flow on the surface of Cybertron as long as I have a say in it.” He smirked confidently. “A new Prime has been chosen by Primus!” he announced. “And he has pledged his loyalty to me. Just a few cycles ago, we performed the ceremony at the Great Forge to allow our planet to flow with energon once more.”

The crowd burst into excited murmurings.

“Where is this Prime?” one bot yelled.

Megatron narrowed his optics. “For his own safety, we have decided to keep his identity a secret. The Quintessons and other enemies of Cybertron have often targeted our Primes, and I will not allow the last True Prime to fall for our own carelessness.”

The chattering rose in volume.

“Enough!” Megatron shouted. The crowd fell silent. “I understand that you are concerned and wish to know more about what happened. But now is not the time to start fighting amongst ourselves. This new Prime was chosen by Primus himself and is dedicated to the well-being of Cybertron. As am I. We will work together to ensure that energon never again runs dry.  We have taken back what rightfully belonged to us! It is not the time to fight over a resource that is no longer in short supply. Now is the time to rebuild our homes!”

Megatron turned on his heel and walked away, allowing the crowd to yell questions and comments at his back. Starscream fell in step beside him.

“I am glad you found a Prime to support you,” Starscream said easily. “When would you suppose I will be able to meet him?”

“Did you not hear me?” Megatron demanded. “His identity will be a secret. The fewer who know who he is, the better.”

Starscream bristled. “As Airlord-”

“Airlord is not a title that sets you to the level of a Prime.” Megatron interrupted. “Unless you have a compelling reason to know the Prime’s identity, you’re dismissed.”

Starscream gritted his dental plates. “Of course, Lord Megatron.”

Orion remained in stasis for the next few Orns, emerging only for short periods of time to refuel and mumble something unintelligible to Megatron before returning to stasis. Ratchet theorized that the recovery time was the true reason for the ceremony taking so long in the past. The Prime and Lord Protector would remain in the forge until the Prime had significantly recovered.

Megatron held off on holding interviews for Orion’s bodyguard position until after the new prime could stay online for longer than a few cycles. And then he left Soundwave and Elita with the archivist as guards while he was gone. He expertly ignored Ratchet’s scoff and eyeroll. At least Orion was still too out of it to complain.

Starscream joined him for the interviews. Unfortunately. The seeker got on his nerves. If he weren’t so useful, Megatron would kick him out of his palace entirely. 

“You seriously plan on dedicating several of our warriors to the sole task of protecting Orion Pax?” Starscream sneered.

“I do,” Megatron answered. “I believe that someone tried to kill him at the Well of Sparks, and as he is our head Archivist, that is unacceptable.”

Starscream grumbled about favoritism, but the warlord ignored him.

The first candidate entered and gave Megatron a sharp salute. “Lord Megatron. I am Intelligence Agent Designation Jazz.”

Megatron narrowed his optics. “Why is an intelligence agent interested in a bodyguarding position?”

“Orion Pax is your strategist, not to mention now the only Archivist of Iacon. He’ll need somebot with knowledge of my field of expertise.” Jazz stayed composed, likely having expected the question.

The warlord read over the data Elita had supplied on Jazz, purposefully allowing the silence to stretch to test to see if the bot would crack.

Jazz stayed relaxed yet ready for action.

Megatron grunted with approval. “Orion will get the final say, but I’ll give you a chance.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jazz saluted again.

“You are dismissed.”

One down.

A hulking bot with an entire arsenal entered. Despite his intimidating presence, he held himself like a new matureling, unsure of his place. “Sir,” he saluted. “I’m Designation Ironhide. Uh, I’m a graduate of Iacon Academy.”

Megatron stared him down.

Ironhide shifted uneasily.

“I don’t expect much combat with this job,” Megatron said bluntly. “It’s an aristocrat bodyguarding position.”

That seemed to cause Ironhide to push past his fears. “Sir, I don’t care for battle, although I won’t deny enjoying it on occasion. I care about protecting Cybertron. Anybot with any sense knows that Orion is an important member of your circle. I would be honored to protect him, for the good of Cybertron.”

Megatron raised a brow. “Hm, we’ll see. You will receive a message with further details. You are dismissed.”

Ironhide startled. “Uh, right. Yes, Sir. Thank you, sir.” he beat a hasty retreat.

The third candidate sauntered in like he owned the place. “Lord Megatron,” he said the title like it personally offended him, and saluted. “I am Designation Streak, member of the Elite Guard.”

“You’re dismissed,” Megatron replied.

The bot froze. “What?”

Megatron clasped his servos in front of him and stared down Streak with an impassive look. “You failed.”

The bot’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly. He spun on his heel and marched out.

“Why not him?” Starscream complained.

“Because I don’t trust the Elite Guard,” Megatron answered. “They were loyal to Sentinel.”

“What about Elita-1?” The seeker crossed his arms. “You seem to trust her.”

“I’ve known her for a long time,” The Warlord glared at the Airlord. “Now shut up or leave.”

Three more failures followed. It was a bit discouraging, even after the initial success.

Then a new bot glided in. This bot’s dull blue finish didn’t stand out. Everything about him seemed both designed to blend in and intimidate. He had two swords strapped to his back and a serene expression on his face. He clasped his fist in front of him and bowed. “Lord Megatron,” his voice was surprisingly soft. “I am Designation Drift, of the Cyberninja faction.”

Megatron straightened, studying the ninjabot with lightly concealed interest. “A Cyberninja? Your people don’t typically get involved.”

“My loyalty is to Primus,” Drift replied easily. “And I believe he has tasked me with serving Orion Pax.”

The silver war-frame drummed his digits against the data pad in his servos. “You get one chance, prove your sincerity, and you can stay.”

The ninja bowed once more, then slipped out of the hall.

“Huh,” Starscream mused. “I didn’t realize there were any of them left.”

The Warlord sent him a scathing look. Did he have any idea how that could be interpreted if anybot overheard him? “Keep those thoughts to yourself.”

Starscream looked away with a huff.

Six other bots failed for a variety of reasons, ranging from Megatron having a bad feeling to inadequate reasons given for wanting the position.

The last candidate stomped in and crossed his servos. “I’m Hound,” he said briskly. “Orion Pax was one of the sparklings my caregiver took in. I’m here to keep a promise to them to protect the youngling that never stayed where he was supposed to be.”

Megatron gave the data on the bot a courtesy glance before nodding. “Acceptable. You will receive a message with further details. You are dismissed.”

Hound dipped his head before stomping back the way he’d come.

“Why him?” Starscream complained. “He obviously never had anyone teach him manners.”

“Shut up, Starscream,” Megatron grumbled distractedly. His digits flew across the data pad, putting together the list of new guards and sending it to Elita.

The Airlord scowled and stalked off.

Chapter Text

Two Duin passed before Optimus was sick of staying out of sight.

He ached to move in a way he never had before. To run. To do more than sort through the archives, encrypt sensitive information, and prepare the rest of the data for its return to the Hall.

He slipped into the training hall and observed Elita and her new students.

The pink war-frame was drilling the silver and blue femme-frame through drills while the war-frame was practicing observation skills.

The larger bot practicing observation noticed Optimus first. He reset his optics. “OP-01?” he asked incredulously.

Optimus furrowed his brow for a moment before it hit him. He brightened and strode forward. “Hound,” he greeted. “It’s been a while. How have you been?”

Hound clasped his arm and grinned. “Doing great, how about yourself?”

“Bored,” Optimus admitted. He turned to the new bot. “I’m Orion, and you?”

“Jazz,” the bot replied, easily accepting the servos Optimus offered. “Nice to meet you.”

The new prime side-eyed Elita. “Hey, Elita.”

“Orion,” Elita crossed her arms and glared at him. “Your upgrades are still fresh. You should wait another Duin or so to-”

The Archivist shook his head, cutting her off. “No, Elita. I’m going out today,” he glanced at the two new guards. “We can consider it a training exercise for your students.”

The silver femme-frame nodded thoughtfully. “We could survey the Archive Hall,” he offered. “I assume you want to replace some of the information.”

Optimus dipped his head. “That is true. I want to update the security before I return anything. Too much of my job in the past was dealing with hackers and thieves.”

Elita gave him an odd look. “How’d you handle thieves?”

“That’s a secret,” Optimus grinned at her. “I can’t tell you.”

The pink bot groaned and rolled her eyes. “You’re a menace,” she crossed her arms. “Fine, we’ll go to the archives. But you get to explain this to Megatron.”

“Best to wait until we’re already on our way before informing him,” Optimus decided. “He’ll get over it.”

Hound snorted and slapped Optimus’s shoulder. “Hah! And here I was wondering if you’d turned into a responsible bot since I knew you, but now I see I worried for nothing.”

“If we want to leave without Lord Megatron finding out,” Jazz offered. “Now would be the best time. He and Soundwave are distracted.”

“Then let’s go,” Optimus led the way towards the door. “He's been super overbearing lately, and I do not want another lecture.”

******

The Archive hall was dark. The data cylinders, usually glowing with information, now sat empty and hollow.

Optimus checked the systems for viruses or hackers, but found nothing.

“What did you do with all the data?” Jazz asked, surveying the empty terminals. “And how did you manage moving it all without anyone noticing?”

“I am not at liberty to discuss that,” Optimus sent an apologetic look to Jazz.

The silver femme shrugged, unbothered by the admission. “I figured. Never hurts to ask, though.”

Elita inspected one of the terminals. “How long are we going to be here?”

“Not long,” Optimus assured her. “I have the new security system prepared. I just have to transfer it to the Hall,” he pulled a cylinder out of his storage compartment and plugged it into the terminal. Now, to let Megatron know where he’d run off to.

[MESSAGE TO: DESIGNATION D-16 – D, I stopped by the Archive Hall. Don't worry, Elita, Jazz, and Hound are with me. We're going to the races on the lower level. - MESSAGE END]

[MESSAGE: RECEIVED.]

[MESSAGE FROM: DESIGNATION D-16 – ORION PAX, IDIOT. RETURN HOME RIGHT NOW. I’LL BREAK YOUR LEGS. - MESSAGE END.]

Optimus dismissed the message. “Come on.” He headed towards the exit.

“Where are we going, boss?” Hound asked, trailing after him.

“We’re going to the races in the lower levels,” Optimus replied.

Elita cursed and hurried after him, jazz on her tail. “Orion! Look, I know I don’t have much room to say this, but that’s too dangerous!”

“Relax, Elita,” Optimus sent her a comforting smile. “I’m not planning on joining one of the large races. I just want to borrow one of their unused tracks to test my new upgrades.”

[V-COMM REQUEST: FROM: DESIGNATION D-16]

[V-COMM REQUEST: DENIED]

Optimus was glad he’d muted his comm before sending that message. Elita would probably insist he answer that.

******

[MESSAGE FROM: DESIGNATION OPTIMUS PRIME - D, I stopped by the Archive Hall. Don't worry, Elita, Jazz, and Hound are with me. We're going to the races on the lower level. - MESSAGE END]

Megatron clenched his servos. That idiot!

[MESSAGE TO: DESIGNATION OPTIMUS PRIME - ORION PAX, IDIOT. RETURN HOME RIGHT NOW. I’LL BREAK YOUR LEGS. - MESSAGE END.]

“Lord Megatron?” Red Alert, the head doctor of Iacon’s hospital, shifted uneasily. “Is everything alright?”

The warlord ignored him in favor of attempting to contact Orion.

[V-COMM REQUEST: DENIED]

Megatron ground his dental plates. “I’ll kill him,” he hissed, storming past the doctor without a care who saw. Let them gossip.

[MESSAGE TO: DESIGNATION ELITA-1 – BRING ORION HOME.- MESSAGE END]

[MESSAGE FROM: DESIGNATION ELITA-1 – UNLESS YOUR SYSTEM IS ALERTING YOU TO IMMEDIATE DANGER, I CANNOT DO THAT. ORION NEEDS THIS. - MESSAGE END]

Megatron came to a stop in the middle of the hall, clenching and unclenching his servos.

Elita had a point. Orion never did well with heavy restrictions. Every gear in Megatron’s body ached to keep Orion safe and away from harm, but his system was silent. There were no warnings, no alerts. The silver warframe took in a steadying breath. Okay, he could back off and let Orion have this. Orion would be fine. He’d been observing the bodyguard’s training. They and Elita were good. They could keep Orion safe.

He considered returning to the conference room. The idea filled him with disgust, so he turned towards the sparring rooms instead. At the very least, he could clear his mind with a good fight.

Megatron regretted this decision when Orion returned with some nasty scrapes covering his finish.

“What happened?” he demanded.

“We were racing,” Orion replied excitedly. “When four bots jumped us!”

Megatron froze, his spark in his throat.

“Elita kicked one in the face, you should have seen it! Jazz shot one before he could even do anything. Then Hound grabbed the other two and smashed them together like they weighed nothing. It was amazing.”

“Why are you all scraped up then?”

“Oh, I fell after underestimating my new abilities.”

Megatron stared at his friend.

“I called some guards to take care of the assassins,” Elita informed him. “They had no obvious faction symbols and were equipped with explosives and blades.”

The warlord ran a servo over his face. “Wonderful.”

Orion furrowed his brow thoughtfully. “I would like to learn how to fight.”

“What?” Megatron frowned at his friend. “You’re a pacifist.”

“I am,” Orion agreed, a hint of the ancient aura touched him again. “But not everybot is. There will always be some bot who wants to hurt others for their own gain. I have the ability and desire to protect those who cannot protect themselves, so how can I remain inactive?” he turned imploring eyes to his friend. “I wish to grow strong. Strong enough to be gentle.”

Megatron held Orion’s gaze for a long cycle. “Alright. Tomorrow. I’ll train you.”

Orion dipped his head. “Thank you, D”

The former gladiator grunted and looked away. He glared at the three bodyguards. “Next time Orion drags you into one of his schemes, tell me before you leave.”

The three bots saluted. “Yes, Lord Megatron.”

Chapter Text

Megatron knocked on Orion’s door.

After a moment, it slid open to reveal the new prime. The two bots stared at each other.

“Did you recharge last night at all?” Megatron asked as he observed the tired dimness of Orion's optics and the mess of data pads scattered across every surface behind him.

“I should be asking you that,” Orion replied.

They continued to stare at each other, neither one willing to lose the impromptu staring contest.

“You’re shadowing me today,” Megatron informed him. “I want the people to get used to you being around me.”

Orion nodded consideringly. “Sounds good.”

“You also have two new bots to meet today.”

“Ironhide and Drift, right?” A familiar spark entered Orion’s optics.

Megatron crossed his arms. “Don’t get any ideas, you’re staying by me.”

“How am I supposed to get my work done?” Orion complained.

“Try a data pad.”

The archivist scowled. “Sacrilege.”

“Vacation day,” the warlord countered.

“Even worse.”

Orion easily drew Drift and Ironhide in with his charm. He soon coaxed them to talk about themselves and shared a few of his adventures in turn. Megatron was shocked that he managed to get the Cyberninja to speak, much less share an embarrassing story from when he was in training. Megatron usually ended up intimidating everybot in conversations. Sure, people called him a good leader and a charismatic speaker, but in a one-on-one conversation, he was just too intimidating for most bots.

Starscream looked like he’d had a sour batch of energon when he saw the Archivist. Many of the nobility did. Megatron already knew that they weren’t happy with a mere Archivist holding so much power. He wondered if Orion even knew how much power he held without even factoring in his Prime status.

He glanced at the librarian, who was showing Drift something on his data pad and gesturing wildly.

Yeah, probably not. He could be incredibly dense at times.

The meetings were dull; no one was stupid enough to try anything with Megatron right there. Someone did attempt to poison Orion, but Drift caught it and took care of the would-be assassin, leaving Orion none the wiser.

The silver warframe was pleased to see Drift and Ironhide taking their job seriously. They interacted with Orion, but always kept an eye on their surroundings and the potential threats in the vicinity. Ironhide strategically placed himself between his charge and the windows. Nothing slipped past Drift, even as he engaged with the archivist; his Cyberninja training proved to be most useful.

Megatron allowed himself to focus on his work and leave Orion in his guard’s servos.

Half a megacycle later, Megatron glanced over as Orion had been unusually quiet and saw his spot empty. He shuttered his optics. It didn’t change.

[MESSAGE FROM: DESIGNATION OPTIMUS PRIME – Drift, Ironhide, and I are going to spar. We'll be back soon. - MESSAGE END]

The Warlord pursed his lips.

“Lord Megatron,” Starscream interrupted loudly. “This matter-”

“Shut up,” Megatron snapped. “I am thinking.”

The Airlord snapped his jaw shut and glared at the warlord with barely suppressed rage.

The silver mech turned back to the matter at hand. Orion would be fine. Probably. He was still in the palace after all. It wasn’t like he snuck off to the fighting rings in the lower levels after all. Right? 

He should have known better than to tempt fate.

Orion snuck off to the fighting rings in the lower levels.

He won three out of the four fights he participated in, losing to Drift by a slim margin, and came home with more scrapes and hastily scrubbed away temporary paint. He smiled sheepishly at Megatron when the silver bot met him at the entrance. Said bot’s optic twitched.

At least they had the sense to disguise themselves.

******

They fell into a routine as time moved on. Megatron kept Orion close. He attended events with the Archivist and his guards at his side, came to meetings with the bot taking notes in the background, and trained his soldiers while Orion raced his guards around the gym. The only place he didn’t take Orion was into battle. One of the council members, Ultra Magnus, had escaped during the battle of Iacon, rallied supporters, and continued to harass the new Decepticon rulers. Megatron left Orion with Elita and all his guards whenever a skirmish broke out. No matter how well Orion did in training, Megatron would not risk his life in a pointless battle.

The new Prime and his Lord Protector trained together every day. Megatron was shocked at how quickly Orion picked up the techniques and strategies. The red and blue mech had sharp instincts and a quick mind. He adjusted his plans on the fly and often surprised Megatron enough to land a blow or two. He especially shone in a fight against multiple opponents.

Despite the silver mech’s best efforts, Orion didn’t stop sneaking out. He became a well-known figure in the lower levels of Iacon, or at least, his disguised self did. Megatron hated it when he came back banged up from accidents during his races and getting into fights with bots who made the mistake of hurting another bot in front of the new Prime. Soundwave reported that he also helped out struggling bots down there.

Many bots who were too afraid of Megatron brought their concerns to Orion, who then conveyed them to the Warlord. Megatron took the pleas for aid and justice seriously and ensured that action was taken where it was needed. He also put in place new protocols that made life in the lower levels safer and less crime-filled. Anything to keep Orion out of fights.

Rumors of the new prime ran rampant. No one could deny that there was a Prime, not with energon flowing on the surface in a way it hadn’t since Alpha Trion stopped performing the stellar ceremony. But there were many different opinions on the state of the Prime.

Magnus’s supporters insisted that Megatron was holding the Prime captive. They declared that Ultra Magnus would free the Prime and take the position of Lord Protector. Megatron was especially vicious in battle after learning of that particular rumor.

The Decepticon supporters were divided on whether or not the Prime was a prisoner of war or just really antisocial. A few wondered if Starscream or one of his lieutenants could be the prime. Some called the new Prime a coward; those ones were immediately shut down by Megatron, who stated firmly that the Prime did not hide his identity out of fear. It was Megatron who insisted out of concern for his safety.

The nobility came up with more and more elaborate reasons to meet the Prime. They were refused every time.

Then came the Faction gathering. Every faction had someone in attendance, even the Cyberninja’s attended.

Orion spoke at length about how the Faction Gathering had been more of a show under the old Council. The Factions were placated but not taken seriously. However, with Megatron's new regime and his goals for a united and free Cybertron, the Gathering would need to rise in importance. In fact, Orion suggested that the Faction leaders take the position of advisors and be included in the governing of the planet. After all, they represented large portions of Cybertronians. 

Megatron had a bad feeling about this meeting. Especially since it fell during the time they needed to renew the Stellar Ceremony, and it was the first gathering since the civil war broke out. Orion insisted they still hold it, though. It was a statement and a promise to all bots. Megatron was there to protect Cybertron, not oppress it. So, the gathering would proceed as planned. The Warlord could only strengthen security and hope that his unease was merely nerves. 

Chapter Text

Magnus himself attended the Gathering to reperest his faction, a temporary truce in place during this sacred time. Inferno, leader of the Rescuebot Initiative, Sensei of the Cyberninja Sect, Jumpstart of the United Mini-cons, and Mudflap of the Workforce faction, arrived not long after Magnus and his guards. Of course, Airlord Starscream of the seekers, and Lord Megatron of the Decepticons were present.

One of the conference chambers was remodeled for the gathering. A throne for each leader was placed in a semi-circle facing the door—Megatron’s throne a bit higher and in the center. A dias sat in the center of the half-circle, ready for whoever took the floor to speak.

The Faction leaders took their seats, their aides and guards taking up position behind them.

Spundwave awaited at Megatron’s left, looking more like a statue than a bot, and Orion stood on Megatron’s right, exuding an air of respect and wisdom. Megatron wasn’t sure how he did it. He was sure he just looked angry. He was, but that was beside the point.

Magnus started to stand.

Orion stepped forward first and greeted everyone with a serene smile. “Welcome to this Stellar Cycle’s Gathering. We are pleased you were able to make it. Now that every bot is here, let us begin with an update from our Lord Megatron." He stepped back to Megatron’s side and gave him a meaningful look.

Right, leader stuff. The silver warlord stood and addressed the gathered bots. “As Archivist Orion said, welcome. I believe that we have many prosperous Stellar Cycles ahead of us, and this gathering of the respected leaders of our planet is a sign of Cybertron uniting once more.” He gathered his thoughts as his opening statement faded. “With our energon crisis over, we can begin expanding interplanetary trade once more, bringing more resources to Cybertron. I expect the markets to be fully functional by the end of this Stellar cycle. In addition, new policies regarding equality and equal opportunity are being considered, and we will have passed a final version in a few Diun.”

Magnus scowled, but the other leaders seemed pleased.

“Unfortunately, the Intelligence Division reports Quintesson activity,” Megatron stated grimly, gaining even Magnus’s full attention. “We believe they mean to strike before Cybertron can gather its strength. I have ordered increased patrols above the atmosphere and resupplied and fortified our watch-stations and fortresses both on and off planet.”

“How can we be sure that you aren’t planning on using those to oppress your enemies?” Magnus demanded.

Megatron raised a brow condescendingly. “Oppress my enemies? What enemies are you referring to? If you mean the Quintessons, I would say you are wrong. I have no intention of oppressing them. I intend to destroy them.”

“You know that is not what I meant,” the former councilor scowled.

“Oh, are you referring to your little band of rebels?” Megatron laughed lowly. “You hardly qualify as enemies. No, more of minor irritations.” He sat down on his throne and looked down at the functionlist leader. “If your bots cause trouble, I will deal with them; if they lay down their arms and return to their homes, I care not for what they used to support.”

Magnus fumed at the obvious dismissal.

Sensei straightened; the small movement drew the attention of all bots in attendance. He so rarely got involved. “Lord Megatron,” he greeted, his voice rasping heavily. “I am under the impression that you have dedicated a good deal of your efforts to protecting our new Prime.”

Megatron narrowed his optics. “What of it?”

“I understand your caution,” Sensei assured him. “However, as you know, the Cyberninja Sect is dedicated to serving Primus and his Chosen. Would it not be possible to allow me to speak to our Prime? I could then put to rest the unsavory rumors surrounding him.”

Orion side-eyed Megatron. The silver warlord clenched his servos and jaw, on the edge of denying the request.

[MESSAGE FROM: DESIGNATION OPTIMUS PRIME – Accept his offer, D. - MESSAGE END]

Megatron turned incredulous optics to his friend.

Orion raised his brows.

The Warframe slowly turned back to the Cyberninja leader. “Only you. In a secure location. After swearing by Primus you won’t reveal his identity.”

Sensei dipped his helm. “I accept your terms.”

Magnus bristled. “You cannot show such obvious favoritism to one of the leaders of Cybertron!”

“The Cyberninjas have long been a neutral party on Cybertron,” Orion pointed out calmly. “In addition to their dedication to following Primus and his Chosen. They are unlikely to endanger Prime on purpose or otherwise.”

Megatron grinned, catching on to Orion’s plan. “And Sensei can testify to Prime’s status and that he is willingly working with me.”

Mudflap nodded firmly. “That’s good. My bots can accept that.”

“The Stellar Ceremony could be an issue,” Inferno mused. “It is tradition for the leaders of Cybertron to stand guard over the entrance to the Great Forge until the Prime emerges.”

Orion and Megatron exchanged a look.

“That is the tradition,” Orion acquiesced. “We will allow you to stand guard until the ceremony is complete, but you will not be allowed to see Prime.”

“This is ridiculous,” Magnus spat. “No Prime in the past hid their identity.”

“And their enemies targeted them until they faltered,” Megatron countered. “We will not make the same mistake. Prime’s safety is my top concern.”

“What of his Lord Protector?” Jumpstart questioned.

Megatron furrowed his brow.

Orion spoke up without any hesitation. “His Lord Protector has also elected to keep his identity secret. He believes it is the wisest course of action.”

“Yet you two are speaking for them?” Magnus snorted. “A bit too convenient if you ask me.”

Megatron scowled. “Enough on this topic. There is nothing more to say. Does anyone else have concerns?”

Starscream rested his chin on his fist, watching the proceedings with calculating optics.

Jumpstart pursed his lips. “I would like to report that while illegal slavery among my people is at an all-time low since the first Quintesson war, there are still many mini-cons suffering in forced servitude where they are denied even the acknowledgement that they are sentient beings.”

Megatron frowned.

Orion glanced at him again. “Overwhelming force will not be a sustainable solution to this problem.” He directed it at Jumpstart, but Megatron could hear the undercurrent of chastisement directed at him.

He huffed. “Right, so we’ll need another solution.”

Orion’s digits flew over his datapad. “I’ll schedule a meeting with Jumpstart before he leaves. We can discuss the issue more in depth then.”

The mini-con leader sat back, a relieved smile on his face. “Thank you, Archivist Pax, Lord Megatron.”

It didn’t escape the other bots that he addressed Orion first. In doing so, he acknowledged Orion as Megatron’s equal.

Orion paused, visibly taken aback. He recovered quickly and returned the mini-bots' smile.

The other leaders eyed Megatron, gauging his reaction. He kept his expression neutral and refused to react to the implication.

Mudflap sat back, a considering look on his face. “I have something too,” he announced. “The Archives. There’s no Archivist in Iacon aside from, well, our Head Archivist. We’ve had delays in training and work due to the Archives being so understaffed.”

Orion frowned thoughtfully.

Megatron nodded in understanding. “I’m aware. I have already begun compiling a list of bots who are open to training under our head Archives, and Kaon will be sending a few temporary archivists by the end of this Quintun. I apologize for the delays; we had to deal with other issues before we could address this one.”

“If you know any bots interested in the position,” Orion added. “Please have them send in their information to my office. Also, would you be willing to send a message listing the high-priority tasks that have been delayed? I will ensure they are completed as quickly as possible.”

Mudflap grinned. “Yeah, I can do that. Thanks, Lord Megatron, Archivist Pax.”

“One of my teams didn’t report in,” Inferno reported. “We have followed the proper protocols, but I wanted to ensure you were made aware.”

In other words, he didn’t trust them to do everything they could to find a single missing rescuebot team. Megatron, however, was different than the past council. He gestured for Orion to step forward.

The Archivist pulled up an active scan taking place in the team’s last known location. He showed the pad to Inferno. “We received your report last Orn and sent out a retrieval team. So far, there has been no sign of them, but perhaps they simply strayed too far from their patrol route.”

Inferno raised his brows. “I see. My thanks.”

Megatron stood. “If that’s everything, I believe this gathering is over. Next Orn at the twelfth Megacycle will be the start of the Stellar ceremony. Sensei, I will arrange an audience with Prime after the ceremony. He does not need to be interrupted at this time.”

Sensei bowed his helm in acknowledgment. “Of course. I look forward to it.”

******

[STATUS UPDATE: TARGET IS EMOTIONALLY COMPROMISED.]

Megatron turned his helm to his friend. “Orion, stop overthinking.”

Orion gave him a startled look before snorting. “Does your system alert you to that as well?”

“It warns me that you’re emotionally compromised,” Megatron admitted. “And since nothing too horrifying has happened recently, it only makes sense for you to be overthinking the ceremony.”

“Hm,” Orion looked away. “I would like my bodyguards to come with us.”

Megatron jolted. “Are you certain?”

He nodded firmly. “I believe it to be the best course of action. I trust them.”

The war-frame narrowed his optics. “I see. Yes, that makes sense. And it be good to have more bots on hand for defense, I think Magnus is going to attempt something.”

“All the more reason to have them with us."

Megatron didn’t argue.

Elita and both teams of guards waited for them at the entrance to the palace. They fell into step beside them as they walked. Ratchet joined them halfway to the tunnel entrance that led to the Great Forge.

“Orion,” he greeted gruffly, ignoring Megatron. “What’s your status?”

“I am alright,” Orion replied. “Perhaps a bit nervous.”

The guards seemed puzzled by the interaction, but didn’t comment.

“The sparkling you brought to me keeps asking about you,” Ratchet huffed. “He never stops talking. I’m dumping him on you at some point.”

Orion chuckled. “I understand. Thank you, Ratchet.”

A crowd had already gathered around the entrance. They parted ways for Megatron.

The warlord stopped at the very edge of the tunnel and turned to address the gathered bots. All the leaders were present. Magnus glared at Megatron.

“Prime has already entered,” Megatron informed them. “He is waiting inside. I, these guards, medical officer Ratchet, and Archivist Orion will be going inside with him. If anyone else attempts to enter, they will be terminated.”

A few bots looked nervous at the announcement.

Starscream scowled and glared at Orion.

Megatron didn’t wait for the bot’s responses. He marched into the tunnel confidently.

A few cycles passed in silence.

Then Jazz spoke up. “Sir, if you don’t mind my asking, why are we being allowed this honor?”

Megatron glanced at the femme briefly. “You have proven yourselves trustworthy.”

The bots straightened at the praise.

Orion smirked subtly.

Elita grinned openly. “This will be funny.”

They came to the Great Forge once again.

“The Great Forge,” Orion stepped forward and turned to face his companions. “The birthplace of sparks and the core of our continued existence.”

“Where’s the prime?” Hound asked, confused.

Orion met the bot’s gaze. “I am Optimus Prime, chosen by Primus.”

The guards froze, optics wide.

“Megatron and I will enter the Forge. You will wait here with Elita and Ratchet,” Orion ordered them. “You have permission to use lethal force against any intruders.”

Drift bowed and clasped his fist. “As you command, Prime.”

Hound’s jaw dropped.

Ironhide sat down.

Jazz gathered herself and nodded thoughtfully. “We won’t let you down,” she promised, her optics darted to Megatron. “Is it safe to assume that Lord Megatron is your Lord Protector?”

Orion dipped his head. “That is right,” he looked at Elita and Ratchet. “I trust you will fill them in while Megatron and I are occupied?”

Elita saluted. “Consider it done, Optimus.”

“I’m not explaining something so obvious,” Ratchet grumbled. “They’re not sparklings.” He caught the disbelieving looks directed at him from the others and rolled his optics. “Fine. But you owe me, Optimus.”

“I do,” Orion agreed with a slight mischievous spark in his optics. “Perhaps I will assist you with your boredom issue, I hear you have been suffering from. The Lower Levels are hosting a tournament soon.”

Ratchet glared at the Prime. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Too late for that,” Megatron grumbled. “Come on, idiot. We’ve got work to do.”

Chapter Text

Hound leapt to his feet as Megatron approached, carrying an unconscious Orion, optics widening with panic. “What happened!?” he demanded. “Did someone attack you?”

“Will we postpone the rest of the ceremony?” Jazz questioned.

“Who should we crush?” Ironhide growled.

Drift just watched with angry, narrowed optics.

Megatron snorted. “Relax, this is normal.” He laid Orion down on the medical berth Ratchet had prepared ahead of time. “We think, anyways. There wasn’t much information on the ceremony in the archives.”

Ratchet scanned Orion before nodding. “Just like last time. He’s just tired.”

Elita scowled. “He’s Orion, it seems wrong for him to be still.”

Megatron didn’t disagree. He sat beside the still Prime and pulled out a datapad.

“What are you doing?” Elita asked.

“I’m not going to sit around doing nothing until he recovers,” Megatron groused. “I can at least get some work done while we wait.”

Elita scowled. “I wish I’d thought of that.”

“How long will it take?” Hound asked Ratchet.

The medic huffed. “I don’t know, it took about two or three orns last time.”

Jazz frowned. “But the ceremony is supposed to end in two or three orns.”

“Yep,” Elita agreed. “It is. We’ll leave once Orion can pretend to be normal.”

“The ceremony only takes a few megacycles,” Megatron explained bluntly. “The rest of the time was the Prime’s recovery time before needing to be seen in public again.”

Drift smiled. “That is very wise.”

“Would have been nice to have some warning,” Hound grumbled. They returned to their resting positions. “Could have saved us from needless worry.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ratchet pulled out his own datapad as he spoke. “Now, entertain yourselves and don’t disrupt me or I’ll make you unable to stand for a Quintun.”

******

To say that the leaders were disappointed when they emerged from the Great Forge without the rumored prime would be an understatement.

Megatron barely bothered to make an excuse for their quick departure. “Prime left already. We’re leaving now.”

Orion held up, acting normal until they entered the safety of the palace wing that they’d reworked into a home for Megatron, Orion, and their guards. Once they were out of sight of the public, Orion slumped, and his optics dimmed. “I hate this,” he murmured. “I’m still so tired.”

Megatron eyed him with concern. “We should postpone our meetings tomorrow.”

Orion shook his head. “No, those are important. The mini-cons need solutions, and Sensei can finally assure the other bots that I’m not a hostage.”

Megatron grumbled under his breath about idiots.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Jazz asked, sympathy in her voice.

“Yeah, if you have some spare time,” Orion pulled out his datapad. “I have a few tasks I don’t have enough time to complete adequately.”

“I’m no good with datawork,” Hound admitted regretfully. “But I can pull a double shift so Jazz can help you longer.”

“Sensei would understand if you postponed the meeting with him,” Drift offered.

“No need for that,” Orion assured him. “I would like to have Sensei over for a drink instead of some formal meeting. It will be more comfortable that way.”

Megatron crossed his arms. “A problem for tomorrow. Tonight, we rest. Elita, Ironhide, and Drift are on guard duty. Hound, you and Jazz retire for the night. We have a long day tomorrow.”

The bots murmured their agreement.

******

Megatron felt painfully out of place sitting at a low table with Orion and Sensei. A cup of energon sat in front of him, but he feared that he would crush it if he attempted to drink from it. He was far too used to the heavy-duty cubes used in the military and gladiator arenas.

Sensei sipped his energon gracefully. “Thank you for arranging this meeting in a more pleasant setting than one of the conference rooms.”

“Of course,” Orion replied. “We know of the Cyberninja's love of culture and wished to make you feel more at home.”

That wasn’t quite true. Megatron hadn’t known at all until Orion told him as he raced around bringing in plants, artwork, and the intricately designed energon cups. He didn’t contradict Orion, though. They needed to show a united front, even to their allies.

“If you do not mind my question,” Sensei rasped carefully. “When will Prime be joining us?”

Megatron finally picked up his cup to avoid answering. He handled it gingerly to preserve its beauty.

Orion put his cup down and folded his servos in his lap, a calculating look in his optics. “Sensei, I believe you already know.”

Megatron choked on the energon he’d just ingested.

Sensei smiled. “You are an intuitive bot, Orion Pax.”

“Please, speak plainly with us,” Orion returned the smile. “I believe we have a very profitable alliance ahead of us.”

“Very well, what is your true designation, Prime?”

Megatron put his cup down and rubbed his aching helm.

“I am designated Optimus Prime,” Orion answered easily. “I have only just recently been chosen. Orion Pax was my original designation.”

Sensei shook his helm. “That is not how it works, young Optimus.” he sipped before continuing. “Primus chose you when you were forged. Your Lord Protector should already be aware of this.”

Megatron looked up from where he was bemoaning the failure of hiding Orion’s identity. “How do you know that?”

Orion sent him a surprised look. “You knew?”

Megatron gave him a flat look. “My system called you Optimus Prime long before you were given that designation officially. I wasn’t as surprised as I could have been to find out you’re a Prime.”

The Archivist pursed his lips. “Huh.”

“The Lord Protector emerges with the mission of protecting their prime already prepared,” Sensei mused. “As for how I know this. It is because I was once a Lord Protector.”

Both younger bots gaped at him.

“The Lord Protectors aren’t named in the archives,” Orion admitted. “And Alpha Trion didn’t speak of them.”

Sensei nodded solemnly. “Alpha Trion never recovered from the loss of his brothers.” He met Megatron’s optics and held them with an off-putting intensity. “Lord Megatron, do not forsake your mission, for any reason. The loss of the one you were built to protect is not a fate any deserve. It is akin to losing one’s sparkbrother.”

Megatron flinched.

“When I lost Solus, a part of me died. I can never fight again,” Sensei sighed, grief heavy in his voice. “Nor can I concentrate or see well. My processor is slower, and my protocols had to be rebuilt by my doctor.” he lowered his head. “It is not a fate I would wish on even my worst enemy.”

Orion put a servo on the old Cyberninja’s trembling servos. “He does not hold it against you,” he said gently. “I have spoken to him. He is glad you survived the tragedy that took his life.”

Sensei looked at the young prime with a broken hope and awe that made Megaton shift uncomfortably. “Thank you, Optimus Prime. That means much to me to know.”

“If you have any advice,” Orion continued. “I would be honored to learn under you. I have little idea what I should be doing.”

“I don’t know much of the Matrix holder,” Sensei admitted. “At best, I can advise Lord Megatron and provide you with stories of your predecessors. I would also like to offer you the full support of all the Cyberninja. We were formed to protect and support the Chosen Primes after all.”

Megatron grinned. “I would be honored to learn from you, Sensei.”

They spoke for several megacycles. Stories of times past, information on how to handle insistent alerts that were unnecessary, and discussions of future strategies filled the air around them.

The silver Warlord was almost disappointed when they had to bring the meeting to a close. But they had an appointment with Jumpstart they couldn’t miss. Sensei did leave them with his comm information and a promise to assist them in any way he could. Megatron was glad for that.

Now, time to brainstorm some solutions to the mini-con problem.

Chapter Text

The council of Primes had demanded that Orion Pax turn over the archives to their control, just after he’d confronted them on their training program for young war-frames. Their training was intense, and they refused to allow the younglings any semblance of freedom or choice. New sparklings that were suspected of becoming war-frames were also admitted into the program. It was horrible. Orion had marched into the council chambers, clutching a small terrified sparkling to his chasis and demanded they end the practice. They refused and then cited his friendship with Megatron as proof of his unreliability. They said he was being removed as head archivist, and the archives would go to a more qualified bot. Orion had refused.

Now, Optimus stood beside the youngling center, watching as the little bots played and chased each other around the yard. Carefree and happy as they always should have been. He recognized a few from the program.

A yellow blur crashed into him. The sparkling looked up at him with bright optics. “Otimus!” he babbled. “Otimus! Rachet said you coming. I happy! Stay wif me?”

Optimus chuckled and knelt. “Hello, B-127. I am happy to see you as well. I’m afraid I can’t stay, but today you have me all to yourself. However, I need you to call me Orion, alright?”

B pouted. “Otimus.”

“Orion,” Optimus corrected gently. He honestly wasn’t even sure where the sparkling had learned his true designation. Ratchet must have been using it. He wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have entrusted getting the sparklings and younglings from the program adjusted into regular spark and young life in the grumpy medic’s servos.

“Rion,” B mumbled angrily.

“Hm, that’s right.” Optimus scooped him up, nodded to the temporary caretaker watching them, and started plodding towards the palace. “Would you like to see D-16 again?”

B perked up. “Dee!”

“That’s right,” Optimus smirked. “I have a special present for D.”

B tilted his helm. “Resent?”

Optimus showed the little sparkling a small container of temporary paint. “I think D would love to be the same color as you, wouldn’t you agree?”

The little bot gasped. “Yay!”

Megatron didn’t see them coming until it was too late. He stood, dripping yellow paint, staring incredulously at the two pranksters.

B giggled. “Dee! We match!”

Sensei raised a brow. Ultra Magnus looked like he’d had some sour energon. Starscream gaped. Mudflap and Jumpstart could barely conceal their amusement.

The formally silver warlord reset his optics. “...yes, so we do.”

“Yellow good on you,” B declared. “Yellow best.”

Megatron turned his gaze to Optimus. “...I’ll break your legs, Orion.”

Optimus grinned. “I don’t know what you’re so upset about. After all,” he gestured at B-127. “Yellow’s good on you.”

“This is revenge for insisting you take a day off, isn’t it?” Megatron complained.

The new Prime clasped his hands behind his back. “Why would you think that? Of course not. Why would I be angry at being asked to let my work pile up and important duties get delayed?”

B looked up at the Decepticon leader with wide optics. “Do- Do you not like it?”

Megatron floundered for a minute before running a hand over his face. Optimus smirked as the action smeared the paint further. “Of course I like it, B. But I’m in the middle of a meeting right now.”

B lowered his head. “Oh, sorry.”

“No, no,” Megatron assured him. “I love it.”

The little bot brightened. “Yay!”

Megatron glared at Optimus.

[MESSAGE FROM: DESIGNATION D-16 – ORION, I KNOW WHERE YOU RECHARGE. I WILL BREAK YOUR LEGS. – MESSAGE END]

Optimus scooped up the baby and fled the scene, cackling.

The palace had many nooks and crannies, hidden rooms, and halls that were perfect for entertaining a sparkling. B screamed in glee as they raced down the long halls. He giggled when they emerged from a hidden room to scare one of the Decepticons. He laughed and jeered as they took advantage of Optimus’s near-perfect memory to ditch his guards and then lead them on a merry chase over the entire palace.

Overall, they had a blast.

But nothing can last forever.

B complained the entire way back to the youngling center.

“Wanna stay wif you,” he whined. “You be my caretaker? You and D? I stay?”

Optimus smiled softly. “I’m sorry B, but D and I have responsibilities that would make us unable to give you the attention you deserve. The temporary caretakers at the center will find you a better caretaker.”

B pouted. “No bot better than Rion and D.”

The Prime opened his mouth to respond, but an uneasy feeling rippled across his spine. He scanned their surroundings, noting how Drift was already tense and scanning more carefully than normal.

Elita picked up on his sudden alertness and laid a hand on the blaster strapped to her waist. Jazz narrowed her optics and moved closer to Optimus’s side.

The street was eerily empty. Optimus didn’t like it. Something was wrong.

[MESSAGE FROM: DESIGNATION D-16 – ORION, SYSTEM ALERT. YOU ARE IN DANGER. - MESSAGE END]

Optimus tensed. “Jazz, take B.”

The intelligence agent took the sparkling without complaint. The usually talkative infant clutched Jazz without making a sound, sensing the mood.

Three blaster bolts shot towards them from behind.

Optimus spun around and blocked them with his blades. “Go, Jazz! Protect B.”

The agent took off, holding the sparkling close to her chassis.

Their attackers didn’t pursue.

That was good, but it also meant that they were likely after Optimus himself. He dove for cover with Elita and Drift at his side. He transformed his blades into blasters and returned fire, forcing their attackers out into the open.

Twelve battle-modified auto-frames charged their position.

“Stay down, Orion,” Elita ordered before leaping into the fray.

Drift positioned himself in front of  Optimus and readied his blades.

Four bots engaged Elita, easily pushing her back with their combined strength. Drift took on another four.

Optimus jumped back as the last four lunged for him. He shot one in the helm, but the bot shook it off and kept coming. Reinforced armor then. He ducked under one bot’s blow, kicked another away, transformed his weapon into his blade, and slashed the supporting brackets of one of his opponents. A heavy blow hit his back, knocking him to his knees. He dove to the side and surged up, blades swinging.

A blue Cybertronian jerked back, but still gained a nasty cut on his chassis. The Prime couldn’t press his advantage. Two more attackers came at him from the side.

Optimus grabbed the one’s overextended arm and swung him into the second. They flew back, skidding against the ground.

The blue attacker aimed a blaster at him. Optimus charged him, sliced off the end of his blaster, and slammed a shoulder into him. The bot slammed into a wall. Optimus ducked to the side, and the blade of the fourth bot slammed into his comrade.

The blue mech screamed.

A red auto-frame swung his blade towards Elita’s spark chamber. She wouldn’t be able to block in time.

Optimus abandoned his opponents and tackled the red Cybertronian to the ground. He leapt to his feet immediately and slammed his fist into a green bot’s jaw. He lifted off his pedes before collapsing to the ground. The Archivist caught the blade of the next attacker bearing down on him and Elita, dragged the bot closer, and used his body as a shield against the blaster fire from the blue mech and his friend. Optimus kicked the third bot away and followed with his blades brandished. Elita covered him with supporting fire.

Drift dispatched one of his opponents and gained a shallow wound across his back for the risk.

Optimus locked blades with the gray bot who’d accidentally stabbed the blue bot, transformed his free hand into a blaster, and shot Drift's opponent twice in the knee. The bot crumpled with a pained cry.

The gray one pushed Optimus back and swung again.

The prime ducked under the blow and sliced the bot’s pede stabilizer. He stumbled and fell.

“Orion!” Elita cried out. “Behind you!”

Optimus spun as a dull spear jammed into his middle. The dull green bot holding the spear bared his dental plates and pressed a button on the side of the shaft.

Electricity raced through Optimus’s system. He spasmed, his blaster and blade retracted, and he collapsed to one knee. He grabbed the staff and threw it and its owner away. Another dull spear thudded against his back, and more electricity poured into his circuits. He cried out and collapsed to his servos and knees.

“Orion!” Elita sounded far away.

Optimus forced his twitching body to roll away from his attacker. He scrambled up, blaster formed again. He got two shots off, pushing the other spear wielder away, before another bot jumped him.

This time seemed worse. Optimus’s processor blanked out while the electricity ran through his body. He tumbled to the ground, twitching and gasping.

[WARNING: ELECTRIC OVERLOAD]

[WARNING: DAMAGE LEVEL AT 63%]

[WARNING: EMERGENCY STASIS ACTIVATING]

[WARNING: TERMINATION OF STASIS: FAILED]

[ENTERING STASIS...]

The blaring alert across his vision was the last thing Optimus saw before plunging into forced stasis.

Chapter Text

Megatron should have known better. He should never have let Orion out of his sight.

He’d been speaking to Mudflap and Inferno on rebuilding efforts when the alert had come.

[WARNING: TARGET IN DANGER. RESPONSE: PROVIDE IMMEDIATE BACKUP. ADDITIONAL ACTION: WARN TARGET OF DANGER]

Megatron hadn’t hesitated. The message had only taken a moment to send.

[MESSAGE TO: DESIGNATION OPTIMUS PRIME – ORION, SYSTEM ALERT. YOU ARE IN DANGER. - MESSAGE END]

“Is something the matter?” Inferno asked.

The warlord ignored the rescuebot and turned to the Airlord. “Starscream,” he snapped.

“Yes, my Lord?” Starscream stepped forward at the call.

“Gather the Decepticons.” Megatron stalked towards the door. “Soundwave, lock down Iacon, and get me Orion’s coordinates, now.”

Starscream seemed to sense that now wasn’t the time for snide remarks, because he hurried off, yelling at his commanders to gather their warriors.

Soundwave didn’t visibly react, but Megatron’s comm beeped with a message containing cords.

The former gladiator didn’t wait for the Decepticons to be ready; he trusted Soundwave to convey his wishes to them. He jumped out the window, uncaring of the broken glass flying around him as he fell from the fourth story. He transformed mid-air and rocketed toward the cords provided.

He transformed as he neared the cords, falling the rest of the way. He landed on top of two modified autoframes, crushing them to the ground. He blasted them without a thought and, with precise targeted shots, took down each of the bots attacking Elita and Drift. Their modified armor was no match for his heavy-duty ion canon.

Soon, the heaving of Elita and Drift as they attempted to catch their breath was the only sound that could be heard. Megatron narrowed his optics at their battered and torn states. “Where is Orion?” he demanded.

“They took him,” Elita lowered her head and knelt on one knee. “I’m sorry, Lord Megatron. We have failed you.”

For a moment, Megatron forgot to breathe. “Which way?” he barked out.

“They headed for the south exit,” Drift answered.

The silver warframe took off, scanners active, and followed the south road.

[V-COMM REQUEST: ACCEPTED]

“Soundwave,” he snapped.  “Orion was taken. I need to know where. He was last seen heading towards the south exit.”

For a moment, there was agonizing silence. Then a beep. “Orion Pax: not found. Rebels: interfering with scans.”

Megatron cursed and terminated the comm. He crashed to the ground before the south gate. The guards jolted and leveled their weapons at him before recognizing him.

“Lord Megatron-”

“Has anyone come through here?” The Warlord demanded.

“A convey just left- didn't even stop to confirm their- Lord Megatron!”

“Do not let anyone else pass without my direct say so!” Megatron commanded. 

Megatron took off again, uncaring of what it looked like. Yet his scanners still picked up nothing. His optics revealed nothing different. He transformed again, landing heavily on the road. He stood, still as a statue, staring out at the metal fauna and bio-life animals stretching before him.

The warlord clenched his servos and screamed his rage at the sky. His vision took on a red tint. Primus help the bots who took Orion. They would wish they’d never onlined when Megatron found them.

[V-COMM REQUEST: FROM: DESIGNATION SOUNDWAVE]

[V-COMM REQUEST: ACCEPTED.]

“Lord Megatron,” the surveillance expert intoned flatly. “Attackers: identified. Perpertrator: Ultra Magnus. Status of criminal: escaped. Query: pursue?”

Megatron bared his dental plates. “Pursue,” he affirmed. “Retrieving Orion is the top priority, but if possible, bring Magnus to me, alive.”

The former councilor would regret targeting Orion.

Megatron would make sure of that.

Chapter Text

[WARNING: COMMUNICATIONS NON-OPERATIONAL]

[CONNECTION TO PROTECTOR LOST]

[WARNING: DANGER DETECTED]

[WARNING: DAMAGE AT 47%]

[SYSTEM REBOOT IN THREE... TWO... ONE...]

Optimus didn’t move, allowing his systems to completely come online before revealing that he was awake. He took stock of his situation.

His servos were restrained in front with cuffs, cutting him off from his weapons, communications, and transformation, but not completely cutting off his realm of motion. Underestimating him. Good.

He didn’t hear anyone near him. His optics onlined. The dull gray walls of a cell greeted him.

Optimus pushed himself off the floor and examined the cell more carefully.

Besides a tiny vent in the corner and a door in the opposite wall, nothing else broke the monotony of the cold walls, ceiling, and floor.

The prime narrowed his optics.

He wasn’t dead, so it likely wasn’t the same person who’d pushed him into the Well of Sparks. He was restrained and imprisoned, but security wasn’t too restrictive. There was no camera, no guard outside the door, his pedes were free. They didn’t know he was a Prime then. Even the non-combatant Primes wouldn’t have been underestimated so. That left only someone after the head Archivist Pax. Well, far be it from Optimus to refuse them what they want.

Footsteps echoed down the hall towards his cell.

Optimus rested his back against the wall, grimacing at the lingering pain from the electric shocks. He schooled his expression to be calm and neutral with just a hint of fear. Let them underestimate him. He could use that.

The door creaked as it opened.

The Archivist wished he could say he was surprised to see Ultra Magnus. The modified blue mech looked down at him with disinterested optics.

“Ultra Magnus,” Optimus greeted evenly. “This is quite the effort to put into a private audience. I know I am busy, but I would have made time had you requested a meeting.”

The mech didn’t answer, simply studied Optimus like a bug he couldn’t be bothered with. “Archivist Pax,” he said slowly. “I will not insult your intelligence by explaining your situation. Tell me where I can find Prime, and you will be sent home.”

Optimus tilted his head. “Prime? Which one?”

The rebel leader’s optics narrowed. “The one allied with Megatron.”

“Hm, I think all the primes were allied with Megatronus. He was a prime himself, you see,” Optimus smirked. “If you want to find one of them, the Well of Sparks is-”

Magnus kicked the red and blue bot in the chassis, grabbed him by the neck, and lifted him off the floor, his optics cold. “Do not play with me, Archivist.” he tightened his grip on the prime’s neck, cutting off the energon flow and cooling system.

Optimus grabbed at the servos and grimaced.

The former councilor dropped him, letting him crumble to the ground. The archivist coughed as his cables and valves strained to circulate his blood and coolant again.

“The new Prime, I want his designation and location,” Magnus repeated.

“Well,” Optimus rubbed at his throat, not looking up from the metal floor. “I can only give you one of those. His designation is Optimus Prime.”

Magnus scowled. “You will tell me how to find him, one way or another.”

Another bot stepped into the cell, red optics fixed on Optimus. Unease swept through the imprisoned prime.

He bared his dental plates in a parody of a grin. “Do what you like. I have nothing else to say to you.”

Magnus smiled and stepped back. “Have it your way. Do not say I didn’t warn you.”

Chapter Text

They launched a massive search effort, combing every inch of Iacon and the nearest cities. Megatron and his lieutenants led raids on the few remaining rebel outposts they knew of, but no matter where they searched, they could not find any sign of either Ultra Magnus or Orion Pax. Even after the Cyberninja's joined in on the search.

Nothing they did seemed to work.

Megatron paced from one end of the council room to the other. He ignored Elita and Ratchet, who hovered by the wall. Fury roiled in his chassis, nearly indistinguishable from the fear.

Where was Orion?

The door slid open, and Soundwave entered. He carried a datapad over to Megatron and held it up.

Megatron paused in his pacing and scrutinized the screen.

[VIDEO INCOMING] It read.

The video started. Megatron froze.

The camera showed an empty cell aside from a slumped figure against one wall. It was Orion.

He had cuts and dents scattered across his body, and his limbs twitched with residual electric shocks. Yet when he raised his head, his optics blazed with stubborn anger. “Back so soon?” he mocked. “Here I thought you’d given up.”

Ultra Magnus entered the camera’s view. He kicked Orion in the face. The Archivist crumpled against the wall with a grunt. “I have,” Magnus informed him carelessly. “You refuse to give up Optimus Prime’s location. Torture, rewards, and even hacking have proven useless.”

Megatron’s circuits roiled in horror. Orion had been missing for three orns. And he’d been tortured the whole time? And they tried hacking into his mind? The silver warframe couldn’t think of anything else more invasive and disgusting.

“Which means I have no reason to keep you alive,” Magnus continued.

Elita grabbed Megatron’s arm, her grip tight enough to hurt.

Orion looked up at the councilor. “Killing a civilian? And you wonder why so many bots sided with Megatron.”

Magnus kicked him in the chest, flinging him across the small cell.

Megatron gritted his jaw. “Shut up, idiot,” he murmured, even though he knew his friend couldn’t hear him.

“I don’t particularly want to kill you,” Magnus crouched down, grabbed Orion’s head, and forced him to look directly at the camera. “But I do want to kill Megatron.”

Orion’s optics widened in horror. “No,” he hissed.

“Oh, yes. Once he surrenders to my soldiers, we’ll send you home. But only if he comes to die.”

Orion snarled. “Over my dead body.” He wrenched his head free and kicked Magnus away.

Another bot rushed forward and shoved a shock prod into the circuits around his neck. The Archivist convulsed, but no scream escaped his lips. He reached up, grabbed the prod with his cuffed servos, and wrenched it out of the bot’s grasp. The prime turned it on the rebel and forced himself to his pedes.

Magnus reentered the camera’s view, his hammer flashed through the air, and collided with Orion’s skull. The battered red and blue bot crumpled again. Magnus glared at the camera. “Don’t think I am bluffing, Megatron. You be there, or add your archivist to the list of bots who’ve died for you.” The screen went black. A series of numbers appeared. Coordinates.

Megatron trembled in rage as he glared at the pad. “The signal,” he growled. “Can we trace it?”

“Answer: yes. Problem: not enough time,” Soundwave answered in his steady monotone.

The warlord extended his blade and met his loyal friend’s optics. “Then I’ll have to buy you time, now won’t I?”

Chapter Text

[WARNING: DANGER DETECTED]

Megaton dismissed the warning and kept walking, chin held high. His scanners easily picked up the hidden rebels. He stopped directly on the coordinates he’d been given.

The old gladiator arena of Tarn. How appropriate.

The stands were rusted and crumbling, the ground beneath him stained blue and green with spilled energon, and an energy field that prevented the gladiators from accidentally or otherwise harming the audience. Several cameras were pointed at Megatron.

Magnus wanted a show? So be it.

Megatron spread his arms out and lifted his voice. “Well? Here I am, Magnus! Are you too much of a coward to face me yourself? Let’s prove once and for all who is more qualified to act as Optimus Prime’s Lord Protector!”

The rebels emerged from hiding, and slowly the stands began to fill up.

A familiar regal blue bot stepped into the vip booth and looked down at Megatron, scorn on his features. “Your power-hungry scramble for power has already proven that, Megatronous. You are nothing more than a gladiator who got his processor knocked crooked in your many battles.”

Megatron threw back his head and roared in laughter. He fixed glowing red optics on Magnus. “You need to do more research on your opponents, Magnus. Perhaps you should have asked Orion Pax about that instead of trying to torture the location of our Prime from him.” He extended his blade. “You see, sir, I never got hit in battle.”

Magnus narrowed his optics. He gestured for his bots to move in.

Megatron readied himself—time to put on a show.

******

[DAMAGE AT 84%]

[EMERGENCY STASIS OVERRIDE]

[ALL SYSTEMS COMING ONLINE...]

Optimus’s optics onlined suddenly, startling the green bot guarding him. The prime didn’t give him any time to recover. He swung his legs into the bot, knocking him to the ground, tackled him, and squeezed his neck until he went into emergency stasis. Optimus snatched the keys from the bot and hastily unlocked the cuffs.

[WEAPONS ONLINE]

[TRANSFORMATION OPERATIONAL]

[COMMUNICATIONS RESTORED]

[MESSAGE FROM: DESIGNATION D-16 – ORION! GET TO SAFETY OR I’LL BREAK YOUR LEGS. - MESSAGE END]

Optimus dismissed the notifications, flicked out his blasters, and kicked the door open. Screw being safe. He had an idiotic best friend to rescue.

Chapter Text

Megatron wasn’t sure how long he’d been fighting. Broken bots surrounded him; his energon levels were dropping, and dents and scrapes began to accumulate on his plating. He blasted another rebel and followed up with a blade through the face when the blast did nothing more than stun the bot.

Interesting. They must have sent in their weakest soldiers first. Smart.

He hoped Orion had listened to him for once.

[MESSAGE FROM: DESIGNATION SOUNDWAVE – LOCATION REACHED. DISABLED GUARDS FOUND. ORION PAX IS GONE. - MESSAGE END]

Megatron cursed. Of course. Orion just had to run off again!

A sword speared his shoulder. The warframe stumbled back with a growl. The bot yanked the sword free and followed up with another strike. Megatron blocked it and kicked him back into two of his comrades before engaging another two rebels.

His right arm remained limp, sensors severed. He made due.

Magnus laughed. “What was that you said about never being hit? It appears your record has been broken.”

Megatron grinned, making a fierce image with energon smeared across his face and plating. The blood of cybertronians dripped off his blade, and his ion canon still let off slight wisps of smoke from overheating. “Bring it on, Magnus! I’ll take you all on! And then I’ll rip out your spine and shove it down your throat!”

He sidestepped a blue bot, grabbed him by a loose panel, and spun in a circle, smashing the rebel into four of his companions. He let the bot go, ignoring the sickening crunch as he hit the wall, and leapt to finish off the stunned bot. He got two before three more bots attacked him.

A bot managed to latch only his sword arm. Megatron kicked him, but he didn’t let go. Another bot tackled him around the middle, making him stumble back a step. The third bot raised his sword.

Megatron tensed.

A blade pierced the bot through the chest. The bot crumpled, revealing a battered Orion. The red and blue mech had the gall to grin before point-blank shooting the other two bots between their armor plating.

The bots clattered to the ground. Lifeless scrap now.

“Orion,” Megatron growled. “Idiot.”

“Speak for yourself,” Orion rasped back.

Magnus shouted something unintelligible. The remainder of his soldiers surged forward, blasters powering up.

Cyberninjas seemed to materialize out of the air and surrounded the Warlord and Archivist. They deflected the blasts and brandished their swords.

Magnus swore, fury swirling in his optics.

Megatron laughed. “Do you truly believe I came here to die, Magnus? You are as foolish as you are old. I didn’t make it this far by being stupid. We have Orion. Most of your bots are dead. Surrender, and I may spare your life.”

Magnus scowled. “Never,” he declared. “I’ll never bow to a war-frame. Your kind is good only for fighting auto-frame’s battles.”

Orion’s optics narrowed. “Your beliefs are as rusted as this arena.” his voice carried over the whole arena. Something about his voice and presence seemed to demand that he be listened to. The rebels drew back, disengaging with the cyberninjas.

The prime stepped forward and glared at Magnus. “You claim to have Cybertron’s best interests at heart, yet you have killed civilians, tortured and lied to remain in power, and broken every rule you claim to uphold. You are no leader. You are a fraud. Your jealousy and lust for power have ruined you and everyone who has chosen to follow you.” he looked out over the rebels. “We are all Cybertronians. We have a common enemy in the Quintessons that grow increasingly bold with each passing Orn. We have the same energon flowing through our bodies. There is no just reason for us to battle. Lay down your weapons. Each of you will be given the chance to choose your own destiny. To break away from unbending traditions that restrict our sparks and deny us our missions given to us by Primus himself.”

The rebels were visibly taken aback.

One of them dropped her blaster. After that, it was like dominoes, one right after another.

Magnus sneered. “Traitors,” he accused. “You will regret this,” he turned and fled back down into the depths of the arena.

“Arrest him,” Megatron ordered.

Several Cyberninja detached from the group and leapt gracefully after the fleeing councilor.

Orion grinned at Megatron. “This was fun,” he announced. “Let’s never do it again.”

Megatron snorted. “You ever do this again and I’ll actually break your legs, idiot.”

******

Ratchet gave both Prime and Protector a stern lecture about self-preservation as he patched them up. He ordered them to rest while their self-repair protocols worked. He also threatened to deactivate them if they didn’t listen to him.

Magnus was apprehended by Starscream, his seekers, and the cyberninjas, the two factions cornering the bot when he tried to escape the planet’s surface. His trial was a short yet intense affair held after the Warlord was released from medical care. Megatron argued for execution, but Orion reminded him of the laws regarding capital punishment established during the time of the first Primes. At most, they could give him life imprisonment. They compromised by allowing the war-frame the opportunity to punch Magnus in the face. The former councilor was found guilty and sentenced to life in Trypticon Prison in Kaon. But first, a medic had to reconstruct a good portion of his helm.

His soldiers were integrated back into society, and any record of their past alliance was removed from public records.

The live footage of Megatron essentially fighting an army on his own and Orion’s timely arrival went viral. Every bot was talking about it. Their popularity skyrocketed. Many began to refer to Megatron as a Lord Protector. The reveal of the Prime’s designation was almost just as discussed. Optimus Prime. Their prime guarding them from the shadows. As for Orion, someone leaked the ransom video. He became a celebrated hero overnight. It made him hilariously uncomfortable. Megatron enjoyed his trouble with the fame.

Orion’s newfound popularity wasn’t the only change in their lives. When Orion and Megatron limped back to the palace, they were met by Jazz and a nearly hysterical B-127. The sparkling clung to Orion’s frame, refusing to let go and sobbing.

Ratchet complained about having to work around the tiny bot, but he didn’t try to force him to let go. He then gruffly informed Orion that B had designated Orion as his caretaker and their sparks had already been linked. By law, he now had a responsibility to care for the little sparkling. B would stay with Orion, especially since it took a full Quintun to get him to let the Archivist out of his sight.

Megatron was content. Cybertron was at peace for the first time in so long.

And he and Orion would ensure that it lasted for as long as possible.