On the Fields of Freedoms Edge - Chapter 4
Title: On the Fields of Freedoms Edge
Rating: R
Pairing: Megatron/Optimus Prime
Warning: Mentions of non-con, mpreg (highlight for warnings, spoilers)
Summary: TF Prime. Optimus goes to extreme measures to stop Megatron once and for all
AN: Argh, I'm sorry for the wait time guys. This chapter was hard to write but hopefully it is on par with previous chapters.
As always all errors in grammar and spelling are my own.
....Oh, and THANKS FOR ALL THE REVIEWS! You all kept these fingers clacking away on the keyboard even when I was getting frustrated.
Orion loved the wildlife on The Pit. He cooed delightedly at the birds flying overhead, even at the bold seagulls who insisted on dive bombing the mechling when Megatron left him unattended. The birds seemed mostly suspicious of the small metal thing but often enough perched on Orion if they spotted a tasty morsel on or near him, the birds clearly having lived a life free of both human and Cybertronian influence to the point where they had no fear of a mechling or his Creator.
Megatron had his own share of birds using him as a temporary perch, at first he had shooed them away but over time he began to accept it with as much dignity as he could muster given the mess they made of his hide.
Such was the life he lived.
If the birds drew excited coos from Orion then the squirrels drove the mechling to near insane levels of excitement with their twitching tails and their fast moving motions. Megatron spent many a cycle watching his Creations attempts to play with the squirrels, a futile effort that more often than not ended with the mechling losing his balance and rolling onto his back, gazing up at the sky in surprise as though gravity had unexpectedly snuck up on him.
It was nearly embarrassing the amount of entertainment Megatron got from watching Orions antics. Megatron violently shunned the word ‘cute’ from his vocabulary but he couldn’t deny his spark softened when he was able to witness such innocent joy at things Megatron would never have though to give a second glance to. If he was to be perfectly honest he hadn’t even noticed the island was inhabited by squirrels until they had caught Orions attention one day.
His observation skills could clearly use some work and he berated himself for his lack of attention to detail.
It was in a moment of pure indulgence that Megatron took Orion to meet his own favorite earth creatures.
Orion and the seals got along famously.
The moment Megatron placed his mechling chest deep in the open waters the seals swam up to him without hesitation, eager to examine the new plaything. The younger seals in particular were almost aggressive in their curiosity and within moments Orion was barely visible under a mass of blubber and eagerly flapping flippers. All Megatron could hear of his Creation under the noise of waves and the barking of the seals was an endless stream of excited clicks and chirps.
The seals were little more than mechlings themselves, eager and clumsy in their actions. Had Orion not been a creature of metal he would surely have been hurt, instead he thrashed about, grabbing flippers and tails and slapping the grey hides, overwhelmed with the new creatures but eager to play. Water foamed around the mass of moving bodies as the waves rocked the seals and the mechling back and forth.
Eventually, far too long in Megatrons opinion, the seals lost interest and went their own way to sun on the rocks or to catch their next meal, save for a few seals that stayed close by, taking a fancy to the new metal animal.
Megatron took Orion from the water once it was obvious he had tired himself out, bringing the mechling to the rocks, near the seals resting grounds but far enough away so as not be perceived as an intrusion by worried mother seals that were carefully guarding their pups.
The mechling rested on his chest plates and they lay together in the sun.
Megatron fell into a deep recharge, thinking as he drifted off that this was the happiest he could remember being since his days in Iacon, in the company of a soft spoken data clerk.
***
Orion was restless.
Megatron watched his Creation fidgeting nervously and was at a loss as to what was wrong. Orion wasn’t a mechling given to fidgeting and temper tantrums but lately he seemed … unwell.
Not physically unwell but the mechlings mental state was abnormal. It had started off small, he would catch Orion staring off into space and making repetitive clicks until Megatron pulled him out of his strange stupor. Megatron had assumed it was normal mechling behavior but the strange repetitive ticks continued.
Orion would sit in the grass and dig and dig without purpose, one little dirty servo scraping repeatedly at the same patch of earth as his optic stared blankly into the sky.
Megatron tried his best to help his mechling, tried giving Orion new things to play with and new sights to see but the hypnotically repetitive ticks continued.
His lack of experience was painfully obvious. He didn’t know how to care for a mechling, didn’t even know how to meet his own Creations needs aside from the most basic of functions. His attempts to play with the mechling were awkward and stunted at best and he was ill suited to keeping one so young and curious entertained, being by nature a stoic and serious mech, not one given to playfulness of any kind. He sometimes talked to Orion but his Creation was fast outgrowing such simple diversions.
He made do for a time, able to distract the mechling enough that his increasingly disturbing behavior was momentarily eased.
All seemed to be going fairly well until he woke from recharge one night to a strange clanging sound.
Orion sat in a corner of the transport container, rhythmically slamming his helm against the metal wall with all the force his small body could muster. The wall was dented where Orions helm had made contact.
Megatron bolted to his pedes with a startled shout of his Creations name, grabbing Orion up into his servos and giving the mechling a light shake.
Orion made a sound that sent a chill through his struts, a long, high pitched static feedback.
Eventually the mechling fell into recharge.
Megatron didn’t move, holding his Creation close. He found himself praying to Primus, an incoherent prayer, frantic and afraid.
He didn’t rest that night.
Or the next.
***
The day Megatron let go of his pride was the day he truly understood what it was to love another.
Orion’s erratic behaviors, once a strange quirk, were growing daily in both frequency and severity. Megatron knew enough of mechlings to know it was nothing wrong with Orion, it was likely a problem with his environment.
The Pit, while large and somewhat interesting was a wholly inadequate place for a mechling, unable to meet Orions increasing need for stimulation and growth. Even having gone this long without the care of a medic was something that was unacceptable.
His Creation deserved better than Megatron could provide. He needed interaction and stimulation beyond the ocean and a few seals. It was becoming apparent every passing cycle that Orion Pax was outgrowing the island. The restlessness was turning self destructive and ever since that night in the transport container Orion’s nervous ticks had only become more disturbing and harmful.
Megatron watched his Creation with defeated optics.
He knew he couldn’t keep Orion.
Mechlings were creatures that required an environment rich with things to explore and new faces to process. On Cybertron the Caretaking unit where mechlings were educated was an enormous building, colourful and filled with people and toys and puzzles and holovids of every sort and visitors were free to come in and interact with the mechlings. His Creation could never reach his full potential being stuck on an island with only his Creator for company. On Cybertron an environment such as this would be considered unfit for a mechling, lacking as it was in basic necessities. If they were on Cybertron Megatron could be put up for trial for subjecting a mechling to an unsuitable environment.
Cybertron was gone but the fact remained that Orion couldn’t stay.
He stared at his Creation from afar, watching him struggle to find something to play with, sensing his loneliness and isolation.
Megatron knew what he had to do.
The walk to the comm. seemed unreal, as though it was happening to someone else. He was resolved and his resolve was the only thing keeping him from taking Orion outside and never looking at the comm. again.
He accessed the computer system, brought up Optimus Primes personal comm. line and accessed it.
The wait until Optimus’ face appeared on the screen seemed to take eons and for the first time in a long time his tanks roiled with sickness.
“Megatron?”
A sneer appeared on his faceplates automatically. “Yes, Prime. Forget about me so soon?”
“I had not expected you to contact me,” Prime admitted cautiously.
“Yes, well, you said you would drop by and you never did. I couldn’t help but wonder if you were still alive.”
Optimus’s optics narrowed suspiciously. “Did you comm. me to make jokes, Megatron or is there something you need?”
“I suppose it’s too much to ask for my freedom,” he said flippantly, enjoying the look of shame that momentarily passed across the Primes face.
“Yes,” Optimus said without hesitation. Megatron paused slightly, taken aback by Primes unexpectedly firm tone.
“Freedom is the right of all sentient beings,” he replied softly.
“I will not justify myself to you, Megatron, not after all you have done. All the lives you have taken.”
“If I am to be sentenced to exile then it is only fitting I should share my prison with a mech as guilty of murder as I am. For a mech so quick to pass judgment on me you are strangely averse to passing the same harsh sentence on yourself. I suppose confinement, rape and slavery is perfectly justified as long as you keep it safely away from the public eye,” he said calmly, almost conversationally. “Or better yet, as long as you’ve rationalized it enough that it seems like a mercy.”
Prime wore his emotions openly and it was much like reading a data pad, every thought was displayed as clearly as if Prime was narrating his inner thoughts to Megatron. The regret and shame was clear but so was the unwavering commitment to his course of action.
“I did what I felt must be done,” Optimus replied some time later, quiet and subdued.
“Yes, and then you left me to rot alone on an alien island,” Megatron snarled, wishing dearly to hit something to relieve his frustrations.
“Would you truly have preferred me there,” Optimus asked. “Would you enjoy the company of Autobots? Would you enjoy seeing the face of the mech who had committed such atrocities upon you?”
“Guilt doesn’t suit you, Prime. You should have just killed me. A clean death would give you no cause for guilt.”
Optimus shook his head slowly. “I could never.”
“Why,” Megatron asked, insistent for he truly wanted an answer. “We are at war. I am the commander of the opposing side, killing me is your duty.”
“I could not take your life. The life of one I once knew to be a good and honorable mech.”
Megatron sneered at such Autobot sentimentality. “You believe I can be saved,” he mocked.
“I do,” Prime said sincerely, not rising to the bait. “You could be so much more, do so much more than you have. You once had such grand visions for Cybertron, for us. We could have united Cyberton and brought about a new golden age.”
“That is in the past, Prime. Cybertron is gone.”
“It does not have to remain that way, you and I both know there is always a way. As long as we live there is hope. Together we could do so much more. I know what I have done is unforgivable, I know you would have preferred death but I know that even more than death you long for Cybertron. Our goals are as they have always been, one in the same, and I could not let you die when the possibility was there for our goals to be realized. We could do it still, old friend,” Optimus said earnestly. The hope in his optics was painful to see.
It was such a seductive proposition but he could not agree to it.
The future Optimus proposed sounded ideal but it would be tainted. How could they ever be equal when he was enslaved? It would be history repeating itself and he would rather see his Decepticons die in honorable combat than be turn into the new lower caste of Cybertron while the Autobots took their place as upper caste. Optimus must see the future he wanted could only end in slavery and corruption, headed by none other than the Prime himself, convinced as he was of his own unfailing righteousness. Idealistic fool.
“I refuse. The world you want would be built on a foundation as rotten as that of the old Cybertron. I will not be your pet slave, Prime.”
“That is not the future I had in mind. For either of us.”
“And yet that is the future as it would be. For you to expect it to be anything else is foolishness bordering on hubris. The future you propose was gone the moment you activated that accursed slave coding.”
Prime was silent for a long moment, brows drawn tight in thought, before nodding his acceptance. “I understand.”
Neither spoke for a long moment and Megatron was surprised to find he had nearly forgotten the reason he had comm’d Prime.
Not being a mech blessed with a great deal of tact he simply said, “As interesting as this conversation has been I must ask that you come pick up your spawn now.”
The look on Primes face was priceless. Megatron could see the confusion, how he was trying to process if this was a joke or a trap and what Megatron’s game was.
“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Megatron, but I don’t find it -”
Megatron leaned down and picked up Orion from his position on the floor, staring up at Prime with a look of awe in his optics. Optimus’ words caught with a screech in his vocalizer the moment Orion came into view. Had it been any other occasion he would have laughed at the sound. Megatron could only imagine what was going through Primes processor but shock and horror seemed like a good guess if the expression on his face was any indication.
“Primus,” Prime gasped. “Where did you - how - explain this Megatron!”
“I would think you could explain it better than I could. I was in stasis for most of it. ‘A transfer of genetic materials’, I believe you said, what a clever way to put it. That was misdirection worthy of Starscream.”
Prime looked like he was about to purge as his optics took in the mechling, clearly seeing the resemblance to himself in the tiny antennae and the battle mask. His form was a near perfect replica of Primes save for the little nubs on his shoulders that would one day be spikes and the tiny claws tipping his fingers. “He is mine? I don’t understand. How can this be,” Prime choked out.
“No, Prime, the mechling is mine. You merely assisted in ‘a transfer of genetic materials’. Regardless, you ought to come pick him up before I dispose of him. I grow weary of having a mechling around, I much prefer my solitude.”
“Megatron, if you harm one-“
“You’ll do nothing, Prime,” Megatron said. “What could you do to me that hasn’t already been done? Offline me? I would welcome it. Fortunately I’m feeling generous so come fetch your spawn and I’ll restrain myself from doing anything … unfortunate to it.”
Prime looked honestly afraid, as though he truly believed Megatron would make good on his threats. It gave him some satisfaction that he could elicit such a reaction from Prime, but more than that he felt disgusted at the thought of harming Orion.
“I’ll be there within the cycle. Please, Megatron, don’t do anything to the mechling. I can’t believe even you would harm your own kin.”
“Hurry and we won’t have to find out.”
He disconnected, searing the image of Primes stricken face in his mind. It was almost amusing. Almost. That Prime thought so low of him that he truly believed Megatron capable of harming his own Creation, it was a sickening thought. He knew Orion would be raised to hate him, would be raised never knowing who his Creator was and why he had taken the path that had lead to Cybertrons destruction. Perhaps young Orion wouldn’t even be told of his existence and would only have brief, unclear memories of a large, grey mech standing by the sea.
The moment he took a step back he fell to his knees, unable to stand. He stared at the blank screen and felt empty.
Tiny servos patted his face plates. His optics met those of Orion’s.
“He will treat you well. Optimus doesn’t have it in him to treat you badly, regardless of your origins.”
Orion chirped at him and pulled his servos away, marveling at the coolant covering them. Megatron hadn’t cried in ages, longer than this planet had been inhabited, and he wasn’t even sure why he was now. He didn’t feel like he was crying, he felt numb.
“You will forget about me, I have come to peace with that. It is for the best. I am not a good mech. I have killed and tortured and I have enjoyed it. I brought about the fall of my world. I am the reason there are no more mechlings left. Many ‘bots have called me a monster and they are right. And yet, the only thing I regret is having known you.”
Orion clapped his servos together and squealed as the coolant splashed around.
Megatron bowed his helm until it rested against Orion’s and let himself mourn.
Next Chapter
Rating: R
Pairing: Megatron/Optimus Prime
Warning: Mentions of non-con, mpreg (highlight for warnings, spoilers)
Summary: TF Prime. Optimus goes to extreme measures to stop Megatron once and for all
AN: Argh, I'm sorry for the wait time guys. This chapter was hard to write but hopefully it is on par with previous chapters.
As always all errors in grammar and spelling are my own.
....Oh, and THANKS FOR ALL THE REVIEWS! You all kept these fingers clacking away on the keyboard even when I was getting frustrated.
Orion loved the wildlife on The Pit. He cooed delightedly at the birds flying overhead, even at the bold seagulls who insisted on dive bombing the mechling when Megatron left him unattended. The birds seemed mostly suspicious of the small metal thing but often enough perched on Orion if they spotted a tasty morsel on or near him, the birds clearly having lived a life free of both human and Cybertronian influence to the point where they had no fear of a mechling or his Creator.
Megatron had his own share of birds using him as a temporary perch, at first he had shooed them away but over time he began to accept it with as much dignity as he could muster given the mess they made of his hide.
Such was the life he lived.
If the birds drew excited coos from Orion then the squirrels drove the mechling to near insane levels of excitement with their twitching tails and their fast moving motions. Megatron spent many a cycle watching his Creations attempts to play with the squirrels, a futile effort that more often than not ended with the mechling losing his balance and rolling onto his back, gazing up at the sky in surprise as though gravity had unexpectedly snuck up on him.
It was nearly embarrassing the amount of entertainment Megatron got from watching Orions antics. Megatron violently shunned the word ‘cute’ from his vocabulary but he couldn’t deny his spark softened when he was able to witness such innocent joy at things Megatron would never have though to give a second glance to. If he was to be perfectly honest he hadn’t even noticed the island was inhabited by squirrels until they had caught Orions attention one day.
His observation skills could clearly use some work and he berated himself for his lack of attention to detail.
It was in a moment of pure indulgence that Megatron took Orion to meet his own favorite earth creatures.
Orion and the seals got along famously.
The moment Megatron placed his mechling chest deep in the open waters the seals swam up to him without hesitation, eager to examine the new plaything. The younger seals in particular were almost aggressive in their curiosity and within moments Orion was barely visible under a mass of blubber and eagerly flapping flippers. All Megatron could hear of his Creation under the noise of waves and the barking of the seals was an endless stream of excited clicks and chirps.
The seals were little more than mechlings themselves, eager and clumsy in their actions. Had Orion not been a creature of metal he would surely have been hurt, instead he thrashed about, grabbing flippers and tails and slapping the grey hides, overwhelmed with the new creatures but eager to play. Water foamed around the mass of moving bodies as the waves rocked the seals and the mechling back and forth.
Eventually, far too long in Megatrons opinion, the seals lost interest and went their own way to sun on the rocks or to catch their next meal, save for a few seals that stayed close by, taking a fancy to the new metal animal.
Megatron took Orion from the water once it was obvious he had tired himself out, bringing the mechling to the rocks, near the seals resting grounds but far enough away so as not be perceived as an intrusion by worried mother seals that were carefully guarding their pups.
The mechling rested on his chest plates and they lay together in the sun.
Megatron fell into a deep recharge, thinking as he drifted off that this was the happiest he could remember being since his days in Iacon, in the company of a soft spoken data clerk.
***
Orion was restless.
Megatron watched his Creation fidgeting nervously and was at a loss as to what was wrong. Orion wasn’t a mechling given to fidgeting and temper tantrums but lately he seemed … unwell.
Not physically unwell but the mechlings mental state was abnormal. It had started off small, he would catch Orion staring off into space and making repetitive clicks until Megatron pulled him out of his strange stupor. Megatron had assumed it was normal mechling behavior but the strange repetitive ticks continued.
Orion would sit in the grass and dig and dig without purpose, one little dirty servo scraping repeatedly at the same patch of earth as his optic stared blankly into the sky.
Megatron tried his best to help his mechling, tried giving Orion new things to play with and new sights to see but the hypnotically repetitive ticks continued.
His lack of experience was painfully obvious. He didn’t know how to care for a mechling, didn’t even know how to meet his own Creations needs aside from the most basic of functions. His attempts to play with the mechling were awkward and stunted at best and he was ill suited to keeping one so young and curious entertained, being by nature a stoic and serious mech, not one given to playfulness of any kind. He sometimes talked to Orion but his Creation was fast outgrowing such simple diversions.
He made do for a time, able to distract the mechling enough that his increasingly disturbing behavior was momentarily eased.
All seemed to be going fairly well until he woke from recharge one night to a strange clanging sound.
Orion sat in a corner of the transport container, rhythmically slamming his helm against the metal wall with all the force his small body could muster. The wall was dented where Orions helm had made contact.
Megatron bolted to his pedes with a startled shout of his Creations name, grabbing Orion up into his servos and giving the mechling a light shake.
Orion made a sound that sent a chill through his struts, a long, high pitched static feedback.
Eventually the mechling fell into recharge.
Megatron didn’t move, holding his Creation close. He found himself praying to Primus, an incoherent prayer, frantic and afraid.
He didn’t rest that night.
Or the next.
***
The day Megatron let go of his pride was the day he truly understood what it was to love another.
Orion’s erratic behaviors, once a strange quirk, were growing daily in both frequency and severity. Megatron knew enough of mechlings to know it was nothing wrong with Orion, it was likely a problem with his environment.
The Pit, while large and somewhat interesting was a wholly inadequate place for a mechling, unable to meet Orions increasing need for stimulation and growth. Even having gone this long without the care of a medic was something that was unacceptable.
His Creation deserved better than Megatron could provide. He needed interaction and stimulation beyond the ocean and a few seals. It was becoming apparent every passing cycle that Orion Pax was outgrowing the island. The restlessness was turning self destructive and ever since that night in the transport container Orion’s nervous ticks had only become more disturbing and harmful.
Megatron watched his Creation with defeated optics.
He knew he couldn’t keep Orion.
Mechlings were creatures that required an environment rich with things to explore and new faces to process. On Cybertron the Caretaking unit where mechlings were educated was an enormous building, colourful and filled with people and toys and puzzles and holovids of every sort and visitors were free to come in and interact with the mechlings. His Creation could never reach his full potential being stuck on an island with only his Creator for company. On Cybertron an environment such as this would be considered unfit for a mechling, lacking as it was in basic necessities. If they were on Cybertron Megatron could be put up for trial for subjecting a mechling to an unsuitable environment.
Cybertron was gone but the fact remained that Orion couldn’t stay.
He stared at his Creation from afar, watching him struggle to find something to play with, sensing his loneliness and isolation.
Megatron knew what he had to do.
The walk to the comm. seemed unreal, as though it was happening to someone else. He was resolved and his resolve was the only thing keeping him from taking Orion outside and never looking at the comm. again.
He accessed the computer system, brought up Optimus Primes personal comm. line and accessed it.
The wait until Optimus’ face appeared on the screen seemed to take eons and for the first time in a long time his tanks roiled with sickness.
“Megatron?”
A sneer appeared on his faceplates automatically. “Yes, Prime. Forget about me so soon?”
“I had not expected you to contact me,” Prime admitted cautiously.
“Yes, well, you said you would drop by and you never did. I couldn’t help but wonder if you were still alive.”
Optimus’s optics narrowed suspiciously. “Did you comm. me to make jokes, Megatron or is there something you need?”
“I suppose it’s too much to ask for my freedom,” he said flippantly, enjoying the look of shame that momentarily passed across the Primes face.
“Yes,” Optimus said without hesitation. Megatron paused slightly, taken aback by Primes unexpectedly firm tone.
“Freedom is the right of all sentient beings,” he replied softly.
“I will not justify myself to you, Megatron, not after all you have done. All the lives you have taken.”
“If I am to be sentenced to exile then it is only fitting I should share my prison with a mech as guilty of murder as I am. For a mech so quick to pass judgment on me you are strangely averse to passing the same harsh sentence on yourself. I suppose confinement, rape and slavery is perfectly justified as long as you keep it safely away from the public eye,” he said calmly, almost conversationally. “Or better yet, as long as you’ve rationalized it enough that it seems like a mercy.”
Prime wore his emotions openly and it was much like reading a data pad, every thought was displayed as clearly as if Prime was narrating his inner thoughts to Megatron. The regret and shame was clear but so was the unwavering commitment to his course of action.
“I did what I felt must be done,” Optimus replied some time later, quiet and subdued.
“Yes, and then you left me to rot alone on an alien island,” Megatron snarled, wishing dearly to hit something to relieve his frustrations.
“Would you truly have preferred me there,” Optimus asked. “Would you enjoy the company of Autobots? Would you enjoy seeing the face of the mech who had committed such atrocities upon you?”
“Guilt doesn’t suit you, Prime. You should have just killed me. A clean death would give you no cause for guilt.”
Optimus shook his head slowly. “I could never.”
“Why,” Megatron asked, insistent for he truly wanted an answer. “We are at war. I am the commander of the opposing side, killing me is your duty.”
“I could not take your life. The life of one I once knew to be a good and honorable mech.”
Megatron sneered at such Autobot sentimentality. “You believe I can be saved,” he mocked.
“I do,” Prime said sincerely, not rising to the bait. “You could be so much more, do so much more than you have. You once had such grand visions for Cybertron, for us. We could have united Cyberton and brought about a new golden age.”
“That is in the past, Prime. Cybertron is gone.”
“It does not have to remain that way, you and I both know there is always a way. As long as we live there is hope. Together we could do so much more. I know what I have done is unforgivable, I know you would have preferred death but I know that even more than death you long for Cybertron. Our goals are as they have always been, one in the same, and I could not let you die when the possibility was there for our goals to be realized. We could do it still, old friend,” Optimus said earnestly. The hope in his optics was painful to see.
It was such a seductive proposition but he could not agree to it.
The future Optimus proposed sounded ideal but it would be tainted. How could they ever be equal when he was enslaved? It would be history repeating itself and he would rather see his Decepticons die in honorable combat than be turn into the new lower caste of Cybertron while the Autobots took their place as upper caste. Optimus must see the future he wanted could only end in slavery and corruption, headed by none other than the Prime himself, convinced as he was of his own unfailing righteousness. Idealistic fool.
“I refuse. The world you want would be built on a foundation as rotten as that of the old Cybertron. I will not be your pet slave, Prime.”
“That is not the future I had in mind. For either of us.”
“And yet that is the future as it would be. For you to expect it to be anything else is foolishness bordering on hubris. The future you propose was gone the moment you activated that accursed slave coding.”
Prime was silent for a long moment, brows drawn tight in thought, before nodding his acceptance. “I understand.”
Neither spoke for a long moment and Megatron was surprised to find he had nearly forgotten the reason he had comm’d Prime.
Not being a mech blessed with a great deal of tact he simply said, “As interesting as this conversation has been I must ask that you come pick up your spawn now.”
The look on Primes face was priceless. Megatron could see the confusion, how he was trying to process if this was a joke or a trap and what Megatron’s game was.
“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Megatron, but I don’t find it -”
Megatron leaned down and picked up Orion from his position on the floor, staring up at Prime with a look of awe in his optics. Optimus’ words caught with a screech in his vocalizer the moment Orion came into view. Had it been any other occasion he would have laughed at the sound. Megatron could only imagine what was going through Primes processor but shock and horror seemed like a good guess if the expression on his face was any indication.
“Primus,” Prime gasped. “Where did you - how - explain this Megatron!”
“I would think you could explain it better than I could. I was in stasis for most of it. ‘A transfer of genetic materials’, I believe you said, what a clever way to put it. That was misdirection worthy of Starscream.”
Prime looked like he was about to purge as his optics took in the mechling, clearly seeing the resemblance to himself in the tiny antennae and the battle mask. His form was a near perfect replica of Primes save for the little nubs on his shoulders that would one day be spikes and the tiny claws tipping his fingers. “He is mine? I don’t understand. How can this be,” Prime choked out.
“No, Prime, the mechling is mine. You merely assisted in ‘a transfer of genetic materials’. Regardless, you ought to come pick him up before I dispose of him. I grow weary of having a mechling around, I much prefer my solitude.”
“Megatron, if you harm one-“
“You’ll do nothing, Prime,” Megatron said. “What could you do to me that hasn’t already been done? Offline me? I would welcome it. Fortunately I’m feeling generous so come fetch your spawn and I’ll restrain myself from doing anything … unfortunate to it.”
Prime looked honestly afraid, as though he truly believed Megatron would make good on his threats. It gave him some satisfaction that he could elicit such a reaction from Prime, but more than that he felt disgusted at the thought of harming Orion.
“I’ll be there within the cycle. Please, Megatron, don’t do anything to the mechling. I can’t believe even you would harm your own kin.”
“Hurry and we won’t have to find out.”
He disconnected, searing the image of Primes stricken face in his mind. It was almost amusing. Almost. That Prime thought so low of him that he truly believed Megatron capable of harming his own Creation, it was a sickening thought. He knew Orion would be raised to hate him, would be raised never knowing who his Creator was and why he had taken the path that had lead to Cybertrons destruction. Perhaps young Orion wouldn’t even be told of his existence and would only have brief, unclear memories of a large, grey mech standing by the sea.
The moment he took a step back he fell to his knees, unable to stand. He stared at the blank screen and felt empty.
Tiny servos patted his face plates. His optics met those of Orion’s.
“He will treat you well. Optimus doesn’t have it in him to treat you badly, regardless of your origins.”
Orion chirped at him and pulled his servos away, marveling at the coolant covering them. Megatron hadn’t cried in ages, longer than this planet had been inhabited, and he wasn’t even sure why he was now. He didn’t feel like he was crying, he felt numb.
“You will forget about me, I have come to peace with that. It is for the best. I am not a good mech. I have killed and tortured and I have enjoyed it. I brought about the fall of my world. I am the reason there are no more mechlings left. Many ‘bots have called me a monster and they are right. And yet, the only thing I regret is having known you.”
Orion clapped his servos together and squealed as the coolant splashed around.
Megatron bowed his helm until it rested against Orion’s and let himself mourn.
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