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Soundwave paced in his berthroom, his usual ballerina-esque glide stilted and interrupted.
He knew, of course. The reason for their Liege's newest rampage. They all did, in High Command.
It'd barely been a vorn since the Treaty at the Well had been signed, and resettling a planet's worth of Refugees had kept both sides more than busy enough to distract from the realities of a post-war interfactional government.
They'd received the official notice over the holonet in the middle of a City Council meeting, Iacon fulfilling their end of the bargain that had been struck with typically poor timing.
Any change to City-State governance required advance notice be given to the other ruling party, and the Autobot TIC had typed an unusually verbose update for them, this time. Right at the bottom is where he & Starscream had locked optics with near-identical groans.
"It is with great pleasure that we announce the impending ceremony to unite Optimus Prime, leader of Iacon, Co-Leader of the Cybertronian Planetary Council, with his chosen Lord High Protector & Betrothed, Ultra Magnus. Kaon is invited to send a delegation to the ceremony & will be received with open arms."
-Jazz, Communications Chief, Iacon City Council.
And naturally, the next thing anybot knew, the table they were all sat at was embedded in the wall, and Megatron was stalking from the room with the worst EM field they had sensed since the war.
"So… that went well." Knockout had remarked, yelping as Starscream cuffed him around the helm with a taloned servo.
"Quiet your vocaliser unless you'd like to join the table!" The seeker had hissed, glaring at the open door with panicked scarlet optics.
Luckily, no reprisal came, as the room shook with the noise of Megatron's jet form breaking the sound barrier outside.
Since then, Megatron had failed to appear for any further meetings of the council, sending single-sentence instructions to Soundwave to allow Starscream to deputise & report on the decisions made.
If it wasn't for those, and the reports from Onslaught & Hook of the astonishing progress being made with the demolition of the slums of Kaon, Soundwave could have believed Megatron had simply left, never to return.
But, no. Their leader was still very much online and kicking, and attempting to work through his frustrations in a healthy way.
"Pointless Walking, Again." Comes the familiar buzz of his symbiote's recorded voice clips.
"Know what need do. Why not doo~oo?" Laserbeak was feeling chatty, then.
He turns his blank visor to meet Laserbeak's optics. The symbiote was resting up on his perch, head tilted to one side as he stares his sire down.
"Situation: Complex. Many variables to consider. Not simple."
Laserbeak's optics twinkle mirthfully as he parrots: "Not -Complex. Simple- variables."
"Statement: Untrue. Laserbeak's course of action: May cause Distress."
"Distress Sire? Not. Distress Liege? Not. Distress Prime- Shame."
Soundwave emits a harsh crackling noise from his vocaliser as he chokes on the words from the symbiote, tilting his helm at the drone again and lifting one arm out in front of his torso to invite him down.
Laserbeak preens a little, alighting from his perch and settling on his sire's arm with a contented purr.
"Laserbeak's Plan: May hold merit. Further considerations: Must be made."
He settles into the chair at his desk, the holoscreens flicking into life as they register his presence, his servos dancing across the keys delicately as he composes a formal response to Jazz, offering their congratulations on the nuptials and confirming a delegation would attend the ceremony.
Optimus hadn't felt this anxious since the Matrix had chosen him all those eons ago. Standing before the Primes then, the concept of what his role would entail hadn't even crossed his processor.
Neither had who would end up forcing his servo.
He had revelled when the treaty was signed, marshalling his faction into the streets of Iacon and setting them all to work rejuvenating their beloved homeworld. Ultra Magnus had gladly taken up the role of lawkeeper, Bumblebee was well on his way to supplanting Optimus' own position in the Council as the natural leader, and Prowl had taken on the task of co-ordinating the defence of their homeworld with the former Decepticons.
Optimus had finally shed those roles he abhorred, the positions of aggression and power that the war had dumped in his lap. He was finally free to pursue his dream for the Primacy, and had personally taken stewardship of the restoration of the Iacon College, especially his dearly beloved Hall of Records. He had capable assistants (Smokescreen's encyclopedaic knowledge of Alpha Trion's later cycles proving invaluable), and now, 1 stellar cycle on, they were finally ready to accept their first class of students.
He'd also undergone a literal transformation too, shedding the added bulk gifted by the forge of Solus Prime and returning to his truer form - far more comfortable, and far more befitting the position of Proctor.
Everything was going perfectly. Right up until it was all ruined. By the mech he thought closest to him.
Ultra Magnus had called a meeting of the council, waiting until Optimus was displayed in front of all his comrades and colleagues to drop his bombshell.
"Now that the Iaconian Council has resumed sitting, the temporary legislation pushed through by the pre-war council has finally lapsed, and requires addressing. Largely, these pieces of legislation are redundant now we no longer face the threat of terrorist insurrection."
He calls up a hologram in the centre of the page, presenting one specific act Optimus barely remembers the council passing as he was elevated to Prime.
"This piece, however, is very relevant. The Primacy Preservation Act has now lapsed, which as we have all discussed before, means that Optimus is no longer bearing the responsibility of choosing a successor."
There are nods and murmurs around the room. Even Prowl scowls but nods slowly, disquieted by the concept of the Primacy passing back into the Allspark.
"The lapsing of this piece of legislature has triggered something of a domino effect, reverting the laws governing the position of Prime back to those used by Sentinel Zeta Prime before he rejoined the Well of Allsparks."
He calls up another document, which Optimus does not recognise at all. Nobody around the table seems to, save Ironhide - who glances at the document, freezes, and slowly turns his helm to Optimus, optics wide.
"As not many of you were around for the inception of Sentinel Zeta Prime's Primacy, I'll summarise. 'Any newly chosen Prime must, within 2 cycles of their elevation, choose a Lord High Protector and engage in a Betrothal with their Conjunx Endura."
The floor falls out from under Optimus, his struts weak as he sinks into his chair with a heavy groan. This, he does remember. Alpha Trion had mentioned it during the earliest days of the war, commenting that any new Prime would be spared that barbaric fate until the War had ended, thanks to the emergency legislations.
Frag.
"As we are all aware, Optimus has not yet served 2 cycles in peacetime, but this cycle is the 1-vorn anniversary of the Peace Treaty, and Optimus has yet to select either a Lord High Protector, or a Betrothed."
All the helms in the room turn to Optimus, optics blinking slowly as he wishes the floor would literally fall out from under him. Nobody in the room except Ironhide knew who his Sparkmate was, and that Mech was pointedly staring at the Lawmaker with gritted denta.
"Ultra Magnus, I have been far too busy to engage in such… frivolity. The College-"
"Is no longer taking up sufficient time and energon to be blamed for this. I may have found this information, but the bots that are returning, those from the Golden Age? They know it. And it would provide a great deal of stability to Iacon if you, our leader, is shown to be settling down. In for the long-haul, as our human compatriots would say."
Ultra Magnus' tone brooks no argument, his Second In Command still easily capable of running any room Optimus was in regardless of any rank or status.
The awkward silence draws out to a pregnant pause before being cut by a vibroblade in monochromatic plating.
"So,,," Drawls a familiar DJ-turned-Spy-turned-Comms Officer polyhexan as the black & white Mech steps into the room, visibly stiffening a little at the frosty atmosphere.
"What'd I miss?"
And with that, the table erupts. The whole council is shouting at each other, everybot hollering to have their opinion heard before Optimus rises, holding his servos out for quiet.
"While I appreciate the sentiment, Ultra Magnus, I am sure a wiser use of our amassed resources would be the continued redevelopment of Iacon. The original council made this law, and this council can now unmake it."
Ironhide finally speaks up, thick brogue ringing around the room as he rises.
"Ach, Frag. Sorry Optimus, but Magnus' right. Whit t' reversion of t' laws, this council willnae count as a legitimate one, capable of overturning historic acts, until t' Prime is fully elevated. And ye dinnae count until ye satisfy all reqs for t' Primacy, according tae Sentinel Zeta's laws."
That hits him like a blow from a predacon, his optics searching Ironhide's faceplates frantically for some sign of a joke.
None is found. His dermas are drawn into a thin frown, optics tight as if saying it is paining him. It probably is.
"Magnus is right. Ye need t' select a Lord High Protector, 'nd a Consort."
"Before I was interrupted-" Magnus glares at Jazz and Ironhide before resuming his usual stature "- I was going to suggest the most optimal route to be you selecting one mech to fulfil both roles. We all know your preference for not interfacing with anymech, given your abstinence throughout the war."
Optimus' faceplates are definitely flushed now, as the council openly discusses his private berthroom bvsiness! How dare Ultra Magnus! He's never been so grateful for his battlemask, which was already deployed and therefore covers his burning cheeks.
"So it would stand to reason to select someone stable, someone strong enough to act as Lord High Protector if it comes to it, and one who shares said preference. I nominate myself for approval by the Council as the Prime's Lord High Protector and Consort."
Ultra Magnus delivers flatly, as though he was commenting on rations or a supply run to Earth. To Optimus' horror, before he can vocalise anything, a show of servos begins around the table. His friends, all of them, raise their arms. They all vote to condemn him to this terrifying nightmare.
"Optimus, your vote is the only one that remains. May I remind you of your insistence that the Prime votes with the people?"
Optimus nods detachedly at Magnus, raising his servo in grim acceptance.
"Then it is unanimous. We will begin preparations for the ceremony at once. Jazz, please disseminate the news over the galactic & planetary holonets, including informing our… colleagues… in Darkmount."
Magnus sweeps up his datapads, nodding with military efficiency, and marches out of the room, followed closely by an irate Prowl lecturing the tall Mech about Security Arrangements.
Optimus sinks further into his chair, thanking people for their congratulations as they filter out of the room past him, his gaze fixed on his own servos. Drawn to the memory of a heavier pair holding them like the finest mesh. Swearing his undying loyalty. Pledging that should Opti- Orion ever call, he would answer.
Because he had already made his choice, vorns before the Matrix of Leadership had cursed him with its "decision".
Because he had just spent millenia fighting the one his spark had called for.
Because Megatronus was his Lord High Protector, Conjunx, and everything in between.
And because that was impossible now.
His servos shake as he rises from his chair, murmuring his apologies to the room as he departs, barely making it to the street before changing form and tearing out of there in a cloud of tiresmoke, heading as far from the Council Chambers as he can.
Soundwave had a plan.
Well, he'd argue it was more like 3 petrorabbit-processored schemes in a long mesh cloak, but Laserbeak was insisting the plan was flawless.
They were going to crash the wedding.
And steal the Bride.
And save a marriage.
All at once.
Now he'd landed in Iacon as the Kaonian delegation for the ceremony, he was easily within range of the Space Bridge controls on the captured Nemesis. The Autobots may think they severed his links before the Treaty was signed, but… come on. He is the spy. Of course he left himself backdoors.
Laserbeak had already fulfilled part one of his plan, cloaking and flying off as soon as Soundwave came in to land, seeking out the Nemesis and restoring the energon feed to her auxiliary antennae, immediately giving Soundwave the access vector he needs.
Without Skywarp, the Kaonians were rather bereft of any new Space Bridge technology, so regaining access to his old stomping ground was critical. Now, he muses, it's just a matter of waiting.
His gaze slowly drifts around the celebration hall, shuddering a little at how… decadent everything was. Far too Sentinel. Nothing like Orion.
At least his assigned "companion" (he can spot a sparklingsitter when he sees one, thank you) is decent company. Opportunites to converse with his Autobot counterpart had been limited during the war, and seeing Blaster now offers a wealth of discussion topics over their symbiotic partners.
Until Laserbeak informs him everything is ready, that is.
Optimus had no plan. No secret escapes. No dramatic exits.
He'd been so thoroughly prepared for this ceremony that he's drifting through the preparations with an almost dronelike complacency. The detailers are fussing over every square micron of his frame, topping up his paintwork and buffing him until he shines brighter than Crystal City in its height.
Magnus had clearly caught on after it took them nearly a stellar cycle to track him down following that council meeting, and assigned a pair of energetic flier twins to "watch over him" until the ceremony. He lost any small chance of escape back then, he realised. Now, he was just resigned.
He would do what was best for the people. He could put up with sparkache. It was the duty of the Prime to put the people first.
The small voice of his former self protests loudly in his processor, pointing out that the two of them are one of those people. And this certainly isn't in their best interests.
"I believe that will suffice for detailing, thank you." He vocalises, glancing around at the flurry of minicons.
"May I ask for you all to give me a breem? I am feeling rather… overwhelmed."
They titter happily for him, nodding as they file out of the suite he'd been assigned. It was cavernous, ridiculously so, and glittered with reminders of who its former occupant was. He'd never wished ill of his predecessor before, but now he certainly wishes he could get his servos on the glittery fragger.
He's actually alone, for the first time since the meeting. Sure, the twins are outside his door. But he's alone.
He moves to the expansive transparisteel window, peering out over the sprawling city below.
And spots something not right. He knew the Kaonian delegation would be present, but he swears he can see Laserbeak approaching his viewport.
As the small purple drone hovers outside the window, his biolights flash purple at Optimus' presence before focussing at a point in the room behind him.
Optimus turns, optics widening as he watches a Ground Bridge portal appear, the familiar slender-formed Sire of said little spybot stepping through in front of him.
His spark pulses tightly, this being the closest he has been with his former friend since the war.
Soundwave's vocaliser crackles to life with a stitched together line made up of Earth videos.
"Congratulations, Bitch. You are being rescued. Please do not resist."
Ever the dramatic, Soundwave then closes their entrypoint, opening a smaller groundbridge to allow Laserbeak into the room, then opening a final, larger portal in front of the three bots.
"Let's move it, Big Rig."
"I- Soundwave, I cannot just-"
Soundwave's own vox crackles through his vocaliser, firm and unyielding.
"Optimus Prime: Inferior. Orion Pax: Superior. Suggestion: Do not let this pass by again."
He tilts his helm pointedly at the doors, drawing Optimus' attention to the noise of a scuffle outside, Ultra Magnus' booming vox demanding he be let in as "a dangerous individual is loose and could be harming the Prime!"
"Point taken, Soundwave. I- Are you sure he'd-"
"Optimus Prime: Idiot. Bitch. Move."
Soundwave's vox once again intercuts with the human clips, clearly taxed by the previous sentence.
"Then I trust you know what you are doing, my friend. I will come."
"Acceptance: Appreciated. Didn't need it though~"
And with that last vox, Soundwave waves his servo, pulling the portal over the two and vanishing them from the Suite in a flash of green light, just before the door blows open to reveal the emtpy suite to Ultra Magnus.
Optimus barely even registers the change in scenery, distracted by how much smoother the Space Bridge is when operated properly (not by Wheeljack).
He does look around though, taking in the familarly sharp architecture that assures him he is in Kaon. If his memory of the layout from before the war serves, this is the worker's housing district.
He is surprised by the amount of Rubble, though. He was sure their bombing campaigns had never made it this deep into the City-State's limits. His ruminations are then disrupted by a disquietingly familiar scream.
HrrrrAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!
Followed by a large cloud of dust appearing over the roof of one of the buildings as it shakes and collapses inward.
"Recommendation: Announce presence early."
Soundwave's vox sounds again, his servo hovering awkwardly before delivering a firm shove to Optimus' shoulder, pushing him towards the street where the sounds of metal on metal are originating.
Laserbeak titters mirthfully, nudging at Optimus' back insistently as he reluctantly steps forward.
"Lookin' gooood~ He liked that look-"
The sight in the street is one to behold, and it stops Optimus in his hesitant tracks.
Megatron, armour shimmering with the light sheen of energon leaking from his fists, is pummelling these horrendous dwellings with his bare servos.
Without even looking up, he growls out at them.
"Soundwave, I distinctly remember telling you I was not to be disturbed. I don't care that you've rebuilt the spacebridge, it can wait."
Optimus resets his vocaliser nervously, trying to figure out what to say. It's been… eons… since they spoke like this. He ultimately settles on…
"I believe Soundwave decided that my presence would require your personal attention, Megatronus."
Megatron freezes mid-punch, slowly turning his helm and taking in the image of his greatest regret, shiny plating like a beacon amidst the dust and dirt of the destroyed street.
"Soundwave, I believe you may leave us. Thank you again for the rescue."
Optimus murmurs, tunring his helm to the spymaster who nods once, slowly, and bridges himself away.
Leaving just the two of them. Amidst the ruins of the place it all started.
Megatron snarls at Optimus, fury bubbling up in his frame like hot magma, spilling into his limbs with a shuddering, shaking rage.
"How dare you come here, after what you just did."
Optimus winces, raising his servos placatingly, but Megatron is seeing red as crimson as his optics now, gesticulating wildly with his arms.
"Not enough to leave me in the dust once, eh Prime? You decided to do it again, even more literally, and do so with that fragging SYCOPHANT you called a Brother-at-Arms. Well you go ahead, Optimus Prime! You go conjunx that staggering waste of Transformium-"
Optimus' attempts to interrupt spiral into him slamming his pede down on the floor, shouting out the other's name with a desparate plea.
"MEGATRONUS!- I-.. They didn't give me a choice. They forced it to be so, because believe me, if I was going to choose otherwise, I would have done so millenia ago. Wearing chains like this for eons isn't something I'd undo lightly."
His expression is almost pained as he retracts his forearm plating, revealing a very familiar banding on his protoform beneath the armour.
"Do you have -any- idea how hard it was to fight you like this-"
He begins, only to be silenced as Megatron silently holds out his forearm, retracting his plating to reveal the same banding.
"I believe I might, actually. You never rejected the bond?"
The rage is cooling, solidifying into something much more… vulnerable in Megatron's spark. Something almost a little… hopeful.
"How could I? No matter what happened afterward, you never betrayed that oath. I never called, so you didn't need to come. I-… I thought if I did, the bond would break. Because there was no way you'd be summoned by me."
Megatron rears his head back and laughs. It's a deep, almost despairing laugh as he realises how much sooner they could have resolved this. It tapers into a near-sob by the end, the war frame wracked with the guilt that his Archivist never knew how seriously he'd taken his oath.
"I only left that day, because you were elevated - and you ignored me. You went straight to the Council, you conferred with them, while I was left outside - Gladiators weren't allowed into the Council Chambers."
Optimus groans a little, bringing his servo to his faceplates and massaging the area between his optics.
"Do you mean to say that if I'd asked-"
Megatron nods unsteadily, holding his servo out palm up.
"I'd have taken the role. Gladly. I was desperate to. But by the time you emerged, you were the Prime. You were the Chosen One. You didn't call, and then I met Termagax, and…"
They both grimace now, turning away from the other, ashamed.
"…and that's how it started." Optimus finishes, lamely.
Megatron nods stiffly, turning away from Optimus to stare at the looming shadow of Darkmount in the distance, awe-inspiring and intimidating in equal measure.
"I promised a lot of things to my comrades, my friends, after the Well. One of the most important promises though, I made to myself."
Optimus begins, unbidden, as he strides closer to Megatron, reaching one servo out and grasping the taller mech's shoulder.
"I promised myself I would learn from my mistakes. And it has been made very clear to me how much of a mistake I made, then."
Megatron slowly turns back to face Optimus, finally taking full stock of the other's appearance. He looks every bit an older Orion Pax, nothing like the Brute Optimus Prime had become by the conclusion of their heated rivalry.
"That position should have always been yours, and I could never have let another fill it."
Megatron blinks slowly at him, remembering the last time they had this discussion, millennia ago in this very street.
2Megatronus, will you please do me the honour of taking your post as my Lord High Protector?"
And he looks around them, at the images that spring up of their nascent friendship when it first lodged itself in their sparkchambers.
The Idealist & the Realist. The Gladiator and the Archivist. Megatronus and Orion Pax. Megatron and Optimus Prime.
His answer's as clear to him now as it was then. Unwaveringly so.
"Until the Stars themselves die out, Orion. I will serve with you until the stars die out."
And this time, the servos that clasp each other feel hopeful. Feel warm. Feel… free.