Most Precious of Treasures: Chapter 10: A Happily Ever After. Maybe.
Chapter 10: A Happily Ever After. Maybe.
The bonding ceremony had lasted a whole decaorn. The first orn was the actual event; partying, drinking, and celebrating had followed.
Teams had been sent up the mountain to gather the Draken's horde and bring it back to the city. Load upon load of riches had been carted down the steep incline and brought back home. The Prime's vaults had been filled again. Every citizen was given their share, and everyone had, finally, funds to spare.
Nobody could help but notice a difference in the city. People were happier, more willing to smile. Prowl, though he did move back into the Prime's Palace with Jazz, continued to work at the Enforcer's Station, and Jazz continued working the odd jobs he had since his coming-of-age.
The Draken's corpse had been stripped down, all the valuable metals and energon going toward rebuilding the parts of the city that had suffered due to the lack of funds available. Its core struts had been wired together to stand over the main entrance to the city, a canopy of bones to watch over it. Its skull was positioned right over the gates, staring down with hollow, empty optic-sockets on all who dared enter. The people of the city grew to love their draken skeleton, for it was a reminder of all they had overcome; visitors to the city, however, avoided it if at all possible.
All was going well. Iacon had been freed, the city was recovering, the people were happy, and Prowl, most importantly, had found a home. It was, finally, time to call Bluestreak.
Before he could comm, though, he received a message from his cousin, Smokescreen. The mech was almost incoherent.
“Prowl, Prowl, I’m so sorry! I can't- I couldn't- They took him!”
Prowl stiffened in front of the camera. “Took who, Smokescreen?” he demanded, voice icy.
“I tried- They wouldn't- I-”
“Who. Took. Who?”
“They- They took Bluestreak! I tried to keep them from it, but I couldn't- It was an accident!”
Prowl was shaking now, his armor rattling threateningly. Even though Smokescreen was miles and miles away, he flinched at the angry expression on his brother's face. “Who has taken my brother?” the black and white demanded again.
“They... Two Lords. Out in the woods. I was... I was lost, and they got me overcharged, and I- I lost him!”
The Enforcer narrowed his amber-gold optics. “I will come. Do nothing until my arrival.”
The comm closed and Prowl stood as he opened another, internal comm.
::Jazz.::
::Heya, lover. S'up?::
::We are leaving. My cousin has come into some trouble, and my brother seems to be in even more trouble as a result of it.::
::Mm. Well, Ah’m ready t' go when you are.::
:: We leave the next orn.::
::Sounds good!::
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
The next comm came early in the orn, before they managed to get out of the city. A courier had cut them off before they walked out from beneath the draken's skull and told them the Prime wanted them back at the Palace.
They had arrived back at the palace to find Smokescreen again on a vid-comm, shaking in his plating, optics practically white as he babbled on about monsters and kidnappings and how Bluestreak was in terrible danger and was probably being threatened.
Prowl, though the whole tirade, was standing stiff and straight as a poker, face set in stony lines.
When Smokescreen was finally reduced to quiet, nonsensical babbling, the Praxian turned to the Prime. “Requesting permission to borrow a portion of your army to rescue my brother.”
“Granted,” the Prime said immediately, face also showing his anger and frustration. He understood being held captive by a monster.
They left as soon as the legion could be mobilized, about a joor after the Prime had granted permission.
And Prowl was off to slay another monster and save, this time, his brother.
The bonding ceremony had lasted a whole decaorn. The first orn was the actual event; partying, drinking, and celebrating had followed.
Teams had been sent up the mountain to gather the Draken's horde and bring it back to the city. Load upon load of riches had been carted down the steep incline and brought back home. The Prime's vaults had been filled again. Every citizen was given their share, and everyone had, finally, funds to spare.
Nobody could help but notice a difference in the city. People were happier, more willing to smile. Prowl, though he did move back into the Prime's Palace with Jazz, continued to work at the Enforcer's Station, and Jazz continued working the odd jobs he had since his coming-of-age.
The Draken's corpse had been stripped down, all the valuable metals and energon going toward rebuilding the parts of the city that had suffered due to the lack of funds available. Its core struts had been wired together to stand over the main entrance to the city, a canopy of bones to watch over it. Its skull was positioned right over the gates, staring down with hollow, empty optic-sockets on all who dared enter. The people of the city grew to love their draken skeleton, for it was a reminder of all they had overcome; visitors to the city, however, avoided it if at all possible.
All was going well. Iacon had been freed, the city was recovering, the people were happy, and Prowl, most importantly, had found a home. It was, finally, time to call Bluestreak.
Before he could comm, though, he received a message from his cousin, Smokescreen. The mech was almost incoherent.
“Prowl, Prowl, I’m so sorry! I can't- I couldn't- They took him!”
Prowl stiffened in front of the camera. “Took who, Smokescreen?” he demanded, voice icy.
“I tried- They wouldn't- I-”
“Who. Took. Who?”
“They- They took Bluestreak! I tried to keep them from it, but I couldn't- It was an accident!”
Prowl was shaking now, his armor rattling threateningly. Even though Smokescreen was miles and miles away, he flinched at the angry expression on his brother's face. “Who has taken my brother?” the black and white demanded again.
“They... Two Lords. Out in the woods. I was... I was lost, and they got me overcharged, and I- I lost him!”
The Enforcer narrowed his amber-gold optics. “I will come. Do nothing until my arrival.”
The comm closed and Prowl stood as he opened another, internal comm.
::Jazz.::
::Heya, lover. S'up?::
::We are leaving. My cousin has come into some trouble, and my brother seems to be in even more trouble as a result of it.::
::Mm. Well, Ah’m ready t' go when you are.::
:: We leave the next orn.::
::Sounds good!::
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
The next comm came early in the orn, before they managed to get out of the city. A courier had cut them off before they walked out from beneath the draken's skull and told them the Prime wanted them back at the Palace.
They had arrived back at the palace to find Smokescreen again on a vid-comm, shaking in his plating, optics practically white as he babbled on about monsters and kidnappings and how Bluestreak was in terrible danger and was probably being threatened.
Prowl, though the whole tirade, was standing stiff and straight as a poker, face set in stony lines.
When Smokescreen was finally reduced to quiet, nonsensical babbling, the Praxian turned to the Prime. “Requesting permission to borrow a portion of your army to rescue my brother.”
“Granted,” the Prime said immediately, face also showing his anger and frustration. He understood being held captive by a monster.
They left as soon as the legion could be mobilized, about a joor after the Prime had granted permission.
And Prowl was off to slay another monster and save, this time, his brother.