Most Precious of Treasures: Chapter 9: Decisions
Chapter 9: Decisions
Returning to the city was odd for both of them. Prowl, because he suddenly realized that, should the Matrix choose him, Iacon could be much more than a home; he could be its' Prime; Jazz, because he was walking with his Intended, and his city, the place of his creation, was finally free from the monster that had plagued it for centivorns.
People gathered on the streets as the two mechs walked, finally, into the city. They stared, stunned, crowding the sidewalks, leaving the roads clear, whispering amongst themselves until the quiet words grew louder and louder and Prowl and Jazz could hear what they said.
“They're alive!”
“That Enforcer brought the Prince back alive!”
“What's his name?”
“Prowl, I think! He's been living here for a few groons now.”
“He was living with Jazz! Did you know that?”
“And he got him from the Draken...”
“Are they lovers?”
“I don't think anyone knows, but Jazz hasn't said anything.”
“The Enforcer-”
“-Prowl.”
“-Prowl hasn't either.”
“But they came back alive.”
“Prowl must have killed the Draken!”
A few moments later, cheers began to erupt around them. Thunderous applause filled the city. Prowl and Jazz walked as honored heroes down the streets of the battered, weary city.
The Prime met them on the main street. He stood tall, a good head-and-shoulders above everyone else, his mate, a small, energon-pink femme at his side.
“Creators!” Jazz cheered and launched himself forward, a wide grin on his face as he was enveloped in the Prime's huge arms.
“Jazz. We thought we had lost you,” his carrier hummed as she too joined the hug.
“Nah. Prowler here saved me.”
The Prime and Elita-One turned to face the Praxian, who was standing at attention.
“You have our eternal thanks,” the Prime Consort said, taking a step away from her family and offering the Enforcer a small bow.
Prowl shook his helm. “I would do it many times over for no thanks, ma'am,” he murmured.
Smiling, the Prime also took a step toward the black and white mech. “All the same. There was a reward offered long ago for the slaying of the monster.” Slowly, the massive mech turned to face his creation. “Jazz?”
“Already said yes, 'Tor,” the silver Prince said with a grin.
The people around them cheered again, louder this time, loud enough that the four assembled bots could not speak and be heard over the cacophony. They just exchanged brilliant, elated grins instead, as Prowl stepped forward and swept Jazz into a deep first kiss.
Returning to the city was odd for both of them. Prowl, because he suddenly realized that, should the Matrix choose him, Iacon could be much more than a home; he could be its' Prime; Jazz, because he was walking with his Intended, and his city, the place of his creation, was finally free from the monster that had plagued it for centivorns.
People gathered on the streets as the two mechs walked, finally, into the city. They stared, stunned, crowding the sidewalks, leaving the roads clear, whispering amongst themselves until the quiet words grew louder and louder and Prowl and Jazz could hear what they said.
“They're alive!”
“That Enforcer brought the Prince back alive!”
“What's his name?”
“Prowl, I think! He's been living here for a few groons now.”
“He was living with Jazz! Did you know that?”
“And he got him from the Draken...”
“Are they lovers?”
“I don't think anyone knows, but Jazz hasn't said anything.”
“The Enforcer-”
“-Prowl.”
“-Prowl hasn't either.”
“But they came back alive.”
“Prowl must have killed the Draken!”
A few moments later, cheers began to erupt around them. Thunderous applause filled the city. Prowl and Jazz walked as honored heroes down the streets of the battered, weary city.
The Prime met them on the main street. He stood tall, a good head-and-shoulders above everyone else, his mate, a small, energon-pink femme at his side.
“Creators!” Jazz cheered and launched himself forward, a wide grin on his face as he was enveloped in the Prime's huge arms.
“Jazz. We thought we had lost you,” his carrier hummed as she too joined the hug.
“Nah. Prowler here saved me.”
The Prime and Elita-One turned to face the Praxian, who was standing at attention.
“You have our eternal thanks,” the Prime Consort said, taking a step away from her family and offering the Enforcer a small bow.
Prowl shook his helm. “I would do it many times over for no thanks, ma'am,” he murmured.
Smiling, the Prime also took a step toward the black and white mech. “All the same. There was a reward offered long ago for the slaying of the monster.” Slowly, the massive mech turned to face his creation. “Jazz?”
“Already said yes, 'Tor,” the silver Prince said with a grin.
The people around them cheered again, louder this time, loud enough that the four assembled bots could not speak and be heard over the cacophony. They just exchanged brilliant, elated grins instead, as Prowl stepped forward and swept Jazz into a deep first kiss.