Title: Whisper, Cry, Become Mine:
Fandom: Transformers (AU: Youngling Prowl, Vampire!mech)
Pairing/s: Undecided at the moment, suggestions are welcome
Rating: PG-13 for now will eventually reach NC-17
Summary: Optimus Prime, after recently having been made Prime, decides to tour the lands to meet his subjects and gain a better understanding what is expected of him. In Polihex he learns of legends that may seem like stories used to scare sparklings, but they may very well be real...
Warnings: A bit of violence and angst, some fluffiness too but not too much. Not yet anyways.
Nanoklik - 1 second
Klik - 1 minute
Breem - 8 minutes
Joor - 1 Hour
Cycle 18 Hours
Orn - Day
Metacycle - 6 years
Vorn - 83 years
"..." Comm. line
Thoughts or Emphasis on a word
~...~ Medical Hardline
::Sweetspark:: Spark Bond/Creation-Creator Union
"...in the darkness of Polihex, Gama Spire worked. Red optics studying the new race he had discovered; they were old... Older than those who were created by Primus and much more deadly if truly angered. You see, for Gama Spire knew they were different from us by several things: optics the colour of an organic world, a green so light and starteling that the moment one saw them you would know. Hidden in their smiles were two meticulously pointed fangs - which they used to suck the Energon straight from out our Energon Lines - long deadly retractable claws, claws that could easily rip a mech apart if a sparkling or a bondmate was threatened. They were considered savage and hunted those long, cold days Cybertron had known as the Dark Ages: forced into hiding, never to be seen again. It is wondered whether the Primordial Children still exist..." The minstrel mech, Topside, paused for effect, dark blue optics resting upon the new Prime as his spun legend came to a halt.
"Whether they survived 'till now, no mech knows. It said, however, that only a Prime is strong enough to kill one." The old mech gave a little bow, dark blue optics resting on the Prime again as applause erupted through the Energon Tavern deep in the Dark Lands. He smiled one last time and headed for the bar; leaving the Prime to his three companions to their talks. The companions consisted of a local, a red - heavily armoured mech (probably a guard) and a red and white one - this one presumably the Prime's Practitioner Medic. Only the Medic and the Local were dressed in travelling cloaks like they should be; perhaps they the knowledge to know the extent of the cold that assaulted these lands constantly.
"Ya know Optimus, Ah grew up 'ere and tha' legend has always been real te us. The Primordial Children of Primus, The Forsaken as we knew them." The black, white, and indigo mech stated - a visor flashing in concern and determination. He would get his message across to the Prime even if it took the whole night and several flutes of Vosnian High Grade. His words however pulled the regal attention of the Prime to him.
Broad, strong shoulders draped with a regal cloak of shimmering blue and swirls of silver as Optimus shifted; beautifully elegant audial finials dipping with his helm in acknowledgement of what Jazz had said. Light blue optics unconventionally shimmered in understanding and acceptance of the words that had just been spoken. Seeing his companion shift uncomfortably at his gaze and as if he had more to say to prove his point, Optimus merely smiled gently. His servo lazily tightening around a white and black crystal spectre as he laid it over his lap.
For Jazz all that Optimus was missing was his coronation crown of white crystal but there was no denying that deep inside, nestled against a pure spark, was the Matrix of Leadership. Optimus had been of humble beginnings as a Data Clerk and the only true reason he was now Cybertron's Prime was that he had been chosen - not for family or heritage but for his will to protect all who came across his word, for the compassion Prime's rarely ever showed. And as such Optimus didn't like getting dressed up when he went out but according to his advisor and Military Leader, Ironhide, he was forced into his Primely cloak and spectre so that others knew who he was. Ironhide had told him that it would show the people of Cybertron that he was enough of a leader to bother to get to know his subjects and treat them with respect. Even going so far as to wonder into the Darkness of Cybertron in hopes of gaining the Land's trust and support. After all a land divided is one of chaos.
Light blue optics shimmered and drifted to one of his closest friends; a Polihexian known as Jazz.
"Jazz," Optimus began softly, his deep baritone lilting through the tavern and soothing more than one audial with its gentleness. It was enough to drag every mech in the room's attention to him. Something that still made Optimus a bit uncomfortable and unsure of himself. "Many Cybertronian's would not believe in Primus and Unicron say they were only a myth or an obscure legend, but I know for a fact that he was alive - still is. His spark resides in Cybertron, it the heart that keeps us alive and gives us a reason to love." The Prime pointed out gently.
"Legends, myths and stories are almost always based on a sliver of the truth and are in fact real sometimes. I can see that you wish to warn me of danger and keep me safe from harm and for that I thank you for your concern and I promise to be careful." Optimus Prime soothed; his large blue servos curling around a flute of high grade distractedly before he brought it to his lip plates - deep in thought. His processors were spinning with what he had just been told. It struck him deeply, he had heard similar stories like this but never gotten the full picture but now it finally made sense. The warnings that Genitors gave their little Sparklings about never wandering alone at night, never to trust a mech with optics you were afraid of. It was slightly disconcerting to think of a mech taking the Energon straight from his Energon Lines to feed.
It was several joors and the Prime's processors were still spinning but this time with something else than thought; it getting a bit too late in the nightly cycle for him. Optimus was getting tired, travelling so far was messing with his chronological components and they were screaming at him to get some rest. He had deliberately been avoiding recharge lately, afraid to face the memories that swirled within the Matrix but that was also no real excuse for him to neglect himself like was now. Ratchet was going to kill him when he found out.
Shifting in his chair, the Prime observed his three closest companions and protectors as they danced to the traditional music of the tavern. All having consumed one too many high grades. He smiled indulgently before rising to his pedes, it had been ages since he had seen them so relaxed and filled with contentment. When he moved towards the dance floor he waved off the bows with a polite servo from the mech's present as he passed. He was from humble beginnings, he could never understand the citizens' need to bow before him - he was in a sense just like them. Understood their plights and strives; had lived through some of them himself.
The large mech decided to leave the two bondmates to themselves as he stopped before the dancing saboteur instead. Waving over the black and white mech, he gently pulled him aside.
Jazz was scrupulously out of breath, his vents coming in short sharp bursts of enjoyment and overenergized exhaustion. Condensation showed across his fore helm and upper lip plates; an indication that his cooling systems were having trouble keeping his core temperature stable. A light blue visor flashed merrily as he looked up at his Prime. Jazz pouted, the large regal mech didn't look ruffled at all - his imperial appearance was still intact despite the number of high grades he had watched Optimus consumed. The Prime didn't even looked buzzed or tipsy, he was just himself and it made the black and white saboteur wonder if his leader even possessed the ability to get overcharged.
Startled fiercely from his innermost thoughts when a crystal spectre was pressed into his servos. Jazz looked up to Optimus for an explanation and he only got a ghost of a tired smile. For Jazz, holding the holy Primus relic, it was like it was burning him from the inside. This was one of Cybertron's most godly coveted objects and it had just been given to him as if it was nothing. His overly bright visor collided with beautiful sapphire optics that glimmered in the low lighting of the tavern. He was gifted with a gentle, trusting smile curling those beautifully crafted lip plates. It made his spark hammer in his chassis, Optimus trusted him enough to give the spectre to him to look after?
"W-wha?" He eventually managed to get his vocalizer to work and asked a very unintelligible question. Optimus Prime just chuckled. Leaning forward to lower his impressive height so that he could whisper into Jazz audial over the loud music. His arms folded nonchalant over his chassis as if he did not just give his friend a holy relic that was considered, well, and 'holy'.
"I'm tired Jazz, I'll be heading back to the Inn. Look after those two for me." Optimus answered whilst pointing at his long time friends, Ironhide and Ratchet. A fond smile curling at his lips. It didn't take long before he saw the saboteur frown at him deeply in disapproval, that visor flashing in realization before Jazz started protesting. Servos gesticulating wildly as uncertainty crashed against the Prime's calm EM field. Optimus just laid a gentle servo on his shoulder plating to calm his frantic movements and emotions.
"But! But! Optimus!" Jazz yelped, slightly panicked. "It's dangerous out there! I should at least get someone to walk with you. I'm sure Ironhide..." Jazz was once again startled to silence when a finger pressed over his lip plates in an intimate gesture of quieting his protests.
"No." Optimus said forcefully. "Leave Ratchet and Ironhide to themselves, they haven't had much time together and as bondmates that is unacceptable. I feel I am to blame for that, so just leave them be. I'll be fine, you also deserve to enjoy your night, Jazz. You've all worked hard these last few orns. Don't forget Jazz that I am also capable of protecting myself against danger." Optimus reasoned and with a small grin of triumph he turned to go when Jazz nodded solemnly. With those words said, they would understand that he too needed some time to think for himself and it was that was needed to be said. The large blue and red mech spun on his pede and headed for the door, not forgetting his manners, the Prime bowed a gracious helm to their host for the evening's entertainment before he disappeared into the village. Shoulder's held high and regal cloak fluttering behind him in the slight wind.
Now that he was able to breathe in the subtle ion in the air; Optimus smiled to himself. The weight that had settled across his frame something that was slowly fading as he moved on. It was strange but he felt so at peace in these lands, as if his spark was coming home for the first time in several stellar cycles.
His slow, relaxed pedesteps carrying him wherever his will wanted to travel. That was apparently towards the greatest landmark this village had. It was even the sole point that the village gad been named after.
The Great Spire City.
In the distance a high crystal and metal tower glittered underneath the three moons' shimmering light. Adding an ethereal glow to that awe inspiring sight. It was a great architectural structure; historically it was valuable enough to never destroy. The Tower of Iacon had been constructed after it and although it was now falling apart from thousands of stellar cycles of weathering it was still remarkable. The astounding sight of absolute astonishment that washed over Optimus was sweet in the winter night; it was palpable enough to make Optimus want to explore the large Spire to see just what was making it so godly.
Earlier that day, when they had passed through the village, Jazz had pointed to the Spire nonchalantly and told him that the tower had always been there; even before the village had been built. The most inspiring thing about it was that it had never fallen, even when war wracked the lands with deadly, destructive weapons and new advanced technology that could easily have made it crumple to the ground. It was like a citadel of protection to Cybertron's people.
Optimus sighed, his thoughts now already wracked by the mere thought of the word war. His spark ached at that.
His beloved Cybertron, after so many good years in the Golden Age was possibly heading for another civil war that would destroy them all and it really hurt his gentle spark. Optimus didn't want the younglings and innocents to experience the ruthlessness of conflict and senseless violence of hate. Even he could see the instability that the Decepticon forces were wreaking through his people, getting a pede hold in every city and tormenting mechs that refused to have anything to do with their senseless violence and preaching lies. Optimus heaved a world weary sigh, the Matrix pulsing against his spark soothingly but he took little comfort in the fact. Pain and sorrow always seemed to plague him in a different form every orn.
'Your compassion is the key to your distinctive Leadership' The Matrix hummed, that was what he was told the first time it had communicated to him and the last as well just it was placed in his spark chamber. It was in that single united moment that Optimus knew that there was going to so much lost, so much laid to ruin because of a hatred he could do nothing to stop, senseless suffering in cruelty. The current Prime of Cybertron wanted so desperately to save the younglings from the pain of a starting war; there was still so much innocence in Cybertron even when it felt like the world was standing still on its axis and nothing would ever change.
Optimus' more intimate thoughts however, were harshly interrupted by a screech of pain and a fraught cry of absolute terror. Optimus Prime froze, on instinct alone his two Energon swords slipped and transformed from his wrist compartments. There was no heeded warning from the Matrix so he rushed towards the now clear sounds of distress. His battle mask sliding in place as his resolve hardened; he could already tell that some mech was in great distress. Almost immediately he tuned his audios towards the north, allowing his rushing spark to lead him as his audios listened for any change in pitch and tone. He just hoped he could get there fast enough.
His audial receivers, now tuned towards the sounds and he could easily hear the small desperate sobs and cries for help from a fraught youngling. It was sounds that easily broke his spark just as the laughter of cruelty from older mechs invaded his hearing. It was that that fuelled his anger and distaste rather quickly. He rounded the corner of an abandoned alleyway not far from the Spire, skidding slightly before freezing in his tracks at the sight that his optics met. A youngling, barely into his third frame - clinging to the greying frames of two mechs Optimus could only guess was the little one's Genitors. Large cerulean coolant tears spilled from grey, offlined optics. He could see the small frame rattle in fear and sorrow as taunts of:
'Aww, little bitty sparkling all alone, now'
'Why don't ya come play wit' us?'
Optimus Prime felt his audial finials burn with pure rage; an emotion he rarely experienced. Thoughtless actions of Decepticon sympathizers had just resulted in a small youngling without a family unit to go back to and Genitors that were murdered before his very optics. It made his sick; how could one leave such a young mech traumatized and desperately afraid for sports and a laugh? It was cruel, unjust and went against his most intimate core programming. Even the power of the Matrix was fighting with him, boosting his anger at the unjustified actions of the situation.
"Stop this at once!" Optimus boomed, his comm. connecting to Jazz in the background already to call for reinforcements. The power held within his voice had an immediate effect on all mechs present at the incriminating scene. Primely cloak billowed behind him as his only warning as Optimus rushed his prey, the most vocal of the tormentors. How could such a senseless act rip the peaceful night, two mechs dead and another left abandoned and for what? Sports in tormenting a youngling?
The Prime's rage was fierce, palpable and burned like laser fire through his Energon Lines. For the first time since being instated as a Prime, Optimus allowed the Matrix to lead him and dictate his actions of leadership. Energon swords, deadly and glinting a fiery orange in the moon light, were poised and ready to strike. The elegance of his frame and graceful movements made his targets almost freeze; their little knives and blaster's no match for an angry Prime. The first strike was unexpected and fierce, the instigators froze as one of them dripped to the ground in shrieking pain. The others rushed forward trying to attack and kill the mech that had just injured one of their own, Optimus let them come. Parrying, feinting blows and ducking before he struck; swift, ruthless and in complete control of himself. It would so easy to execute them by his pedes but Optimus made sure to keep the blows from killing them.
They would be used to make an example of, the smelting pits as an execution would send a message that murder would never be tolerated in his society.
"Don't look little one; keep your optics offline Starling." Optimus cooed softly to the frightened youngling; crouching next to the distraught youngling protectively as he vented to gain his senses. A quick rub of gentle servos against an overly warm helm to offer comfort and reassurance had the Prime noting the delicate Praxian frame of the youth. Realizing that a deep red chevron decorated the youngling's fore helm, a colour of nobility and prideful standing.
The sobbing youngling didn't seem to hear him over the din of his own despair but eventually he gave a small nod just before Optimus was dragged back into the fight. The youngling in response; rested his helm against his Carrier's dead spark chamber - his servo clutching his Sire's unnaturally cold servo and not caring that both their Energon was smearing all over his own frame. The smell of the Energon made him realize that he was hungry too; he hadn't fed yet and Sire had brought them out specifically to feed tonight. Because he had lost his visor early in the confrontation he was now not allowed to open his optics, Sire had ordered him not to and the black and white youngling listened.
It was too dangerous, Carrier had said and so little Prowl listened and now look what happened. He couldn't even help because he was not allowed to look. A small whimper of fear left his vocalizer as his world started fading in and out of focus, who would look after him? Understand that he wasn't normal?
The sound of furious fighting was overly loud in his fuzzy audios and for several more kliks he heard cries of pain and the slicing of swords through thin armour. However the clashing of swords soon stopped and the small Praxian was heavily aware of a triumphant 'shink' of retracting blades and soft pedefalls moving towards him. It was nonthreatening and for some reason Prowl didn't feel as afraid of the approaching mech as he was of others that had cornered his family. He tilted his helm slightly to follow the sound. Relaxing slight when a gentle presence brushed against his frantically small EM field. This was definitely a noble gentlemech, one of those in the sparkling stories Carrier had always told him to help him recharge. Knowing that he would not be hurt, Prowl flung himself blindly at the mech that had saved him. Fingers finding purchase against smooth thighs as he clung on for dear life, this was the only comfort he would even find...
Prowl cried like he had never cried before, sobs were hurting his intakes as he gripped the warmth radiating from the stranger. Not protesting when he was suddenly picked up in strong arms; arms as strong as his Sire's, and pressed gently against a warm spark chamber. Prowl whimpered and curled tighter into that grip; wanting to become one with the mech.
"Shhh my little Starling. You're safe now. I won't let anyone ever hurt you again." Optimus promised, his spark breaking at the little one's attempt to cling to him. He was already deprived of love and his little spark was erratically burning a hole into his own spark chamber. Optimus kept his voice soft and soothing as he offered the youngling the warmth of his spark and the compassion and love he deserved.
Those beautifully crafted doorwings were restless in pain and fluttered in deep distress; doing the only thing he could think of - Optimus rubbed them gently but reassuringly. Carefully unclipping his warm cloak he wound it around the little one's shivering frame. He kept making soothing noises to offer the youngling a counterpoint to his terror and hopefully lull him into recharge.
Optimus wasn't surprised when he could already hear Ratchet's sirens blaring in the distance and approaching their direction fast. He was not looking forward to Ironhide's no likely long lecture about him leaving by himself. The Prime was startled when small arms suddenly wrapped around his neck components in search of spark warmth. Optimus sighed sadly and immediately pulled the small Praxian closer to him, cradling his helm against his shoulder as he stroked that gleaming chevron lovingly. His other servo supporting the little one's weight as he rocked him back and forth in gentle calming motions. It had been something he had learned from his Carrier when he had been young. Before he allowed the little one to drift into recharge against his spark chamber he brushed a stray finger across soft cheek seams.
"What's your designation Starling?" Prowl stirred at the deep voice purring above him; the servo pressing his helm against a warm shoulder plate was welcoming and he couldn't remember ever receiving comfort like this. Not even from his family. Carrier had always kept him at servos length as he got older; saying that he shouldn't become dependent on their love. His little engine gave a little stutter as he whimpered softly. He wanted to feel loved too...
"P-Prowl." He stuttered uncertainly; relaxing slightly when his doorwings were rubbed soothingly and the larger mech hummed pleasantly.
"Little Prowl. Do you have anything else that was lost, that you need repaired?" The voice asked softly. A thumb wiping away at his slowly falling tears soothingly. Prowl shifted and nodded.
"M-my v-visor." He admitted softly. It had been crushed by the attackers the moment Sire had been offlined before his optics. Carrier already following behind Sire because of their bond.
"Shhh, my beloved. I'll see to it that Ratchet gives you a new one ok?" Optimus purred as he felt Prowl start shivering in his grasp. Prowl nodded slowly; the shock had not yet faded and he felt like he was in a surreal world where nothing was making sense. They had only left to get something to ear, why were they now dead? Sire had promised to teach him to read the language of the Primes.
A sob escaped his little vocalizer and Prowl didn't flinch when strong arms curled around him tighter in both protection and love. Strangely enough the sounds of other mechs trickling into the alleyway did not startle him as much as it should have. His spark was still beating fast in shock; the numbness in his plating and processor hadn't receded yet; only the pain in his spark was unbearable. His Creator-Creation Union was completely shattered and he didn't know what to do, how was he going to survive? Fingers curled around warm plating harshly, what was he going to do?
"Optimus?" A voice startled the Prime from his deep thoughts; the room had been eerily quiet and filled with tension. All optics were now trained on the youngling clinging to Optimus' frame as if it was his last thread of life. An audial pressed to a pulsing spark chamber as the youngling cuddled closer and sought more attention.
Prowl was now silent, his crying now reduced to only a few tears escaping from behind a replacement silver-blue visor. The stimulants that the Medic had injected into his systems was calming both his spark and panic. As it worked through his systems it was close to lulling him into a peaceful state where he wanted to fall asleep in a little ball and never wake up. He was so tired but the terror from earlier was still coursing through his systems and he was almost too afraid to even offline his optics.
The visor now hiding his peculiar optic colour had been procured from Ratchet's immense replacements parts. Strange that he could carry so much in his subspace alone. Those present in the room knew that Prowl was observing them with an intelligence that one so young should not display; it was almost strange. The silence in the room was thick, darkness crept in from the closed windows and even Jazz was quiet in this situation after the explanation that Optimus had just given them. Ironhide was angry, Ratchet was full of sorrow and compassion, Jazz was shocked and Optimus was calm but deep down he felt guilt bubbled into his spark. They all watched as Prowl pulled Prime's cloak closer to his shivering frame and offlined his visor, almost as if he trying to shrink away from the gazes that were directed at him.
They all started simultaneously when there was a harsh knock at the door; all helms swivelled towards the door tensely.
"Optimus Prime, Sir, your orders have been carried out. The perpetrators have been sent to the prison with a death sentence." An unnamed soldier peeked into the room to give his report before leaving again when Optimus nodded. That seemed to snap the mechs out of their silent stupor, Ratchet sighed and stood. Dragging his bondmate to his feet with him and motioned for Jazz to follow them and leave Optimus alone.
"He's already imprinted on your spark Optimus, he's going to want you as his caretaker now. Well whatever, you don't seem to mind. He's a bit low on Energon and he's also going to need rest to work those drugs out of his system. Don't keep him up intentionally." Ratchet warned, cautioning the Prime on what to expect from Prowl before leaving the room; the rest of the group following behind him. Optimus knew that he would never be alone and there was already more than one guard posted outside of his door so if he needed Ratchet all he had to do was comm. him.
"Prowl?" Optimus ventured softly, he needed to get the young mech to rest. Said youngling stirred at the reverberation of his voice. A silver-blue visor flickering to life as pure innocence stared back into blue optics. Optics that Prowl found were filled with gentle caring and sympathy. He just stared, not wanting to speak because he knew his vocalizer would crack and he didn't want to embarrass himself anymore than he already had. Prowl however, did lean into the touch when gentle fingers stroked his cheek plate's seam; his doorwings giving a little flutter of joy at the touch. He was a tactile 'bot and was often deprived of touch that he so craved so Prowl accepted every bit he could get. He was shifted in the large mech's his arms before Optimus stood with his small burden. The warm cloak falling from Prowl's shoulders had the youngling crying out in distress before Optimus picked it up again wound it around his still trembling frame. Prowl didn't know why he was still feeling so cold but the warmth of the cloak helped a bit.
"Are you hungry?" Prowl's drifting attention turned towards that gentle voice asked and Prowl gave a small shy nod. However when he saw the red and blue mech reach into his subspace and pull out a glow cube of low grade Energon; Prowl just shook his helm. A small pout forming on his lip plates as he tried to calm his pulsing spark.
"I-I don't e-eat l-like t-that." He eventually admitted, even his voice was trembling in slight fear of what he was about to do. Seeing the Prime, who he had yet to figure out was a Prime, frown at his answer Prowl sighed. When they went into the berthroom Prowl relaxed slightly, Optimus putting the cube of Energon on the nightstand in reach of his servos.
Prowl nearly forgot his grinding hunger when he observed the berthroom; the large berth looked so warm and soft - so inviting that Prowl fought with himself to keep his visor online properly. However at the reminder that he was still hungry, his optics trained on every movement Optimus made. The touch of soft berth coverings against his thigh plating had Prowl nearly falling back and into deep recharge; but he knew what it was that he had to do. Prowl leaned forward heavily; his stomach lurching with what he was about to do. He just hoped he wouldn't hurt Optimus with this.
"C-c-can I?" Prowl asked softly even though Optimus would never know what it was what he was asking for. He brought his servo forward uncertainly, fingers pushing back his own visor to reveal optics. Optics of such a light green they were completely luminescent in the dark. However, seeing the larger mech's frown of confusion and slight trepidation - Prowl bit his bottom lip plate nervously.
"I-I'm sorry," Prowl confessed beforehand. Whispering softly before a lilting melody, as old as time itself, spilled from his vocalizer. Prowl couldn't explain it but his Carrier had told him to always sing that song to the one he was feeding from before he bit. Lime green optics watched carefully for any fear and discomfort in the bright blue optics, but they only shone in trust and began to dim at the melody. Pulling on the wrist that was still gripped in his servo, Prowl pulled the larger mech towards the berth. Scooting into the larger mech's lap when he sat down; servos steadying himself against that warm chassis. Prowl leaned forward uncertainly, knowing that he should pray to Primus too. Just in case he did something wrong...
Words, formed from a dialect that only Primus could understand, drifted into the air. Small, innocent lips moved against blue audial finials as Prowl sung the lilting tune in a prayer like fashion; undoubtedly relaxing Optimus' large frame forcibly and placing him in a trance like state. Those blue optics shimmering in exhausted and great concern. The sight made Prowl nervous and he shifted closer to Optimus' neck components; whispering something encouragingly when a large servo run up his spinal; struts and caressed his quivering doorwings. The touch soothing Prowl's own fear.
'I bless thee, this child of Primus. Of binding love and understanding.' Prowl recited carefully, a glossa slowly teasing sensitive neck cables - actively looking for that specific Energon line that he knew would fulfil his need.
Hidden fangs, still small and underdeveloped, lengthened when small fingers became like deadly claws. Claws he was very careful not to use to hurt his caretaker. Prowl wasn't worried when he felt Optimus still above him the moment his fangs sunk into the Energon line, drinking deeply from the sweet Energon to satisfy his thirst. He was also careful to not gorge himself on the wonderful taste and overdo it.
As Prowl drank his fill, he was confused to fell tears escaping his green optics. It was in remembrance of all that he had lost. A raw, aching wound; one that Optimus' presence seemed to sooth bit by bit. But the guilt he felt now for having to feed from his comforter was enough to make Prowl's small frame shudder in despair and self hate.
He knew that his victims only ever felt pleasure from his bite, his Carrier had assured him of this but he was somehow inflicting more pain back on himself; something that his logic processor was fighting with. He frame wanting to freeze and throw him offline as he glitched but he took the pain - knowing that one day he would repay Optimus back everything that he had been given that night after all had been lost.
It truly hurt, he hated that he had inherited his Carrier's most dangerous protocols and forsaken heritage and now Prowl despised that he had been left all alone in a world he did not understand and had been sheltered from since he had been born. Pulling back from his meal, Prowl gingerly licked his lip plates from the excess Energon before his glossa cleaned up to the two tiny pinpricks of Energon on the older mech's neck cabling. His visor sliding back into place. Pressing a kiss of gratitude on the Prime's fore helm, Prowl relaxed back against that chassis and curled tightly around himself to find a little warmth from his cold emotions.
'Awaken, awaken thee without thy knowing.' Prowl whispered in that strange language again before resting his tired audio against Optimus' spark chamber; content now that his fuel tanks weren't screaming at him and that warm servos didn't pushed him away - he was only pulled closer in love before strong arms picked him up and pushed him beneath the warm covers of the berth. The unexpected exhaustion finally lulling him into a forced recharge.
"Recharge well Prowl, beloved Starling of Primus." Optimus said softly, his servos resting against an overly warm helm in reassurance. It was then that Prowl knew that there remained no memory of what he had taken. The song had worked as it should have. Strange that, that little fact made Prowl even more afraid of what would become of him when his true heritage was discovered.
Would he be hunted like Carrier had once been? Would he die at the end of Optimus' spectre? Would they torture him or study him in a lab? Prowl shuddered, switching off his processors before they got the best of them. Allowing the warming embrace of recharge, he flitted through fitful dreams and pronounced terror of the future...
Optimus was confounded as he stared at the recharging from of Prowl; his memory banks were corrupted for about six kliks but he could find nothing wrong with himself. Why would there be such a long black out of his systems? Shaking his helm to clear his troubled thoughts, Optimus sighed and headed for the wash racks. Smiling sadly at the sight of Prowl clutching his cloak as if it was the most precious thing in the world. He wouldn't be getting that one back soon, the Prime mused.
After what Ratchet had told him, Optimus was more sure than ever that he didn't want the Praxian to fall from his grasp. His spark was already seeking to comfort the child and offer him love in place of his dead Genitors, a caretaker bond that had formed without the two of them truly knowing about it.
The pure rage from earlier that nightly orn was still heat through his systems and caused him to want nothing more than kill those mechs all over again; and by himself this time. He had enjoyed the way his Energon Swords had cut into their frames and severed their armour as if it was mere thickened Energon. Shaking his head at his murderous thoughts, Optimus headed for the wash racks of his rented room.
Laying a stray servo across his spark chamber to calm the rapid spark pulse. A breem later he came out of the steaming room with a wet cloth and some gentle solvent. Prowl was also still smeared from dirt from his earlier experience and Optimus wanted to make sure he was clean; clean from the Energon of his Sire that had seeped onto his body and stained him in the sorrow of his double loss.
Whispering sweet nothings to the youngling curled tightly around the fabric of his cloak, Optimus eventually hummed softly. Washing away the spilled Energon that still clung to the beautiful black and white Praxian frame. No mech deserved what had happened to the youngling, no mech disserved to watch their Genitors die at the servos of insanity...
Optimus knew that it was going to take time for the both of them to adjust to their new situation but until they reached Iacon, Prowl was staying with Optimus or whoever he chose between Jazz, Ratchet and Ironhide. Optimus knew that he just couldn't leave an innocent in a place like this - especially not after what had happened to him...
Right! Finally finished! This will join my quick fic and I hope you like it! I just had to write this down, the rabid bunny was giving me rabies and I would have died had I not written it! Please, I need pairing suggestions! Other than that, please review if you enjoyed this story. It'll take time between updates as it is not my main story but I promise not to abandon it for now.
Next updated: A Friend From The Ashes - 2 - 3 Days and then Into The Dark - 6 - 7 Days
Thanks for reading!