Chapter Text
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.
Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,
Yet grace must still look so.
Shakespeare, Macbeth.
The word of a seeker didn't mean much to Megatron. Whether they were a Winglord of the Citadel or a piece of shareware from a Cloud District brothel, he didn't trust such a self-involved overprivileged populace. However he felt about them personally though, he needed air support. He needed fliers with skill. There was only so much shuttles could do for him in battle, and he had few of them as it was.
But seekers were foreign complicated creatures, and luring them to his cause had proved harder than anticipated.
Thankfully, after the bombing of the Crystal Gardens it seemed Vos was finally ready to pick a side, choosing fear over loyalty, and Megatron was more than ready to receive what they came to offer.
It was the Winglord himself who sat across from him, a mech painted gold and royal red, pretentiously adorned with a dozen markings of honour along the edges of his broad aged wings. They were painted, Megatron's keen gaze noticed, not branded. Megatron had heard how sensitive their plating could be...
He'd briefly considered holding the Winglord hostage when the delicate, ignorant seeker arrived at the gates to his fortress with just a handful of guards, as if his rank alone would protect him. He was only a figure head though, just the face of the mysterious Vosian Council who held the true power. He was too expendable and too useless to work as a decent hostage, and killing him wasn't worth the bother of waiting for the Vosian's to send a second negotiator.
Regardless, Megatron didn't need a hostage to bend the city to his will. His Decepticons had them outnumbered three-to-one. The only reason he hadn't laid siege to Vos and blown the city half to Pit was because he had no desire to alienate soldiers he could potentially use.
And he needed those seekers.
He had no plans on letting the Vosians know just how much. He sat back, sure and at ease, waiting to see what the old seeker would offer him to keep his city standing.
"The Crown Prince." The Winglord said.
"He is more than welcome to the position of Air Commander." Megatron nodded. "I will need someone to lead your seekers."
The Winglord shook his head. "You misunderstand. He will be your Air Commander for a time, but we require a position more secure than a rank that can given and taken as easily as on a whim. You will conjunx him. He will bear your heirs, and only then will you have access to our Air Force. As soon as the heirs reach majority they will take their creator's place as Air Commanders, and you will be free to keep the Prince for... whatever purpose you might have for him."
The Winglord paused before continuing. "Outside leading, of course. He wasn't built for that."
Megatron didn't like the implication that anyone was 'built' with a specific purpose in mind. He tapped his digit against the table, shaking his head. "I have little need for a Conjunx or heirs. They'll serve as little else but distractions."
"A welcome distraction, you'll soon find." The Winglord smirked unpleasantly. "The Prince is an attractive mech, Megatron of Tarn. Still sealed."
Megatron wanted to roll his optics, imagining some meek, low-winged mechling blushing under his gaze. "And If I refuse to take him?"
"Then I would have to reconvene with the council." The Winglord began to stand. "And hope they don't take offence at you spurning our prince."
Megatron couldn't imagine any alternative requests would be so generous. He could destroy the city, or he could learn to tolerate a seeker for a few years. He knew which was the better political move.
He stood, holding a hand out to stop the Winglord. "There's no need. I accept."
The Winglord stopped, his slippery smile slowly stretching across his mouth. He dipped his head. "Excellent. I'll send word ahead and have him sent over as soon as possible."
Megatron hummed, no quite so eager. "His name?"
The Winglord paused just before the doorway, surprised that he would care. "...Starscream."
"And he wants this?" Megatron asked, wondering.
The Winglord didn't answer immediately. "...I'm sure he'll be ecstatic when he hears the news."
Starscream wasn't ignorant enough of the plots occurring in his own home to be surprised when the Royal Chancellor appeared in his private quarters with the biggest smirk and half a dozen palace guards to happily inform him he'd been traded off to the Decepticon brute, Megatron of Tarn, in exchange for them all keeping their miserable lives.
"Did you tell him I was sealed?" Starscream mocked as he checked his claws for dirt, sprawled across his chaise lounge. "He'll be disappointed, won't he Skywarp?"
The trine-mate smirked from the berth, but there was a spark of worry in the optics flicking between the chancellor and all the guards he'd brought.
For good reason. The smile slipped off the Royal Chancellor's face.
"For your sake that had better be a joke in poor taste. Your new conjunx isn't going to want someone's sloppy seconds. If he finds you unsatisfactory, he'll send you back to us with a declaration of war. That's if you're lucky, and he doesn't decide to keep you for other means."
Starscream wasn't impressed by the threats. He rolled his optics, but Skywarp began to fidget.
"You'll report to the palace medic," the Chancellor continued when he didn't answer, clicking his digits and sending the guards forward to surround Starscream. "And he can replace whatever he might find missing."
With as much attitude as he could muster, Starscream rolled off the chaise lounge and onto his pedes. Skywarp dutifully followed after him.
"What's the point of me having another seal put in just so some brutish warlord can tear through it?" He shouted as he passed the pompous politician.
"Curb your attitude, Starscream." The Chancellor called after him, watching him and Skywarp turn into the corridor, shouldering the guards that tried to escort them out of their way. "Or I'll instruct the medic to tighten your callipers too."
Starscream snorted. It would take more than the threat of 'mechanical alterations' to scare him.
The medic, an ageing seeker called Overdose, wasn't any friend of Starscream's, but there wasn't a mech in the palace that wasn't susceptible to bribery. Starscream dutifully consented to the examination, and when Overdose slipped his gnarled digits into him, and frowned in judgemental disgust at what he found, or rather, what he didn't find, Skywarp stepped forward with a healthy handful of shanix.
"He's sealed." Skywarp said pointedly,
Overdose removed his digits, looking between the shanix and Starscream with an arched brow, thinking he was being clever. "I'm not sure if he is."
Skywarp scowled.
Starscream rolled his optics, shutting his panel as he sat up. "Just pay him what he wants."
Skywarp begrudging started counting more into the medic's hands. "This is for your discretion too." He added, slapping the last shanix down. "I hear any rumours about the 'Slut Prince of Vos' and I'm coming for you."
Overdose veered back, suitably cowed.
Starscream slipped out around him, knowing how little time he would be given to prepare himself.
The guards would wait till nightfall, when they'd think he'd be recharging and too disorientated to kick up too much of a fuss when they dragged him from his berth and hauled him into a transport ship set for Kaon. He wondered if he could escape, and if living life as a common mech would be worth remaining free.
He heard Skywarp catch up, falling into pace alongside him. "Was this a good idea?"
"Paying off Overdose? Of course."
"I meant about me and Thundercracker breaking your seals." Skywarp whispered hastily, glancing aside for eavesdroppers. "What if this Megatron jerk does notice, and gets angry?"
"Not every idiot outside Vos cares so much about an imaginary concept of purity. I doubt a common pit dweller turned warrior will." Starscream explained. "It was better that you did it. It can hurt. And it's not unheard of for some t make it hurt on purpose."
"Is that what he's like? This warlord?" Skywarp asked quietly. "The type who hurts someone on purpose."
"He's a warlord." Starscream ground out. "I can't imagine he has much patience for gentility."
Skywarp nodded, "We need to tell Thundercracker that it's going through."
"I'm sure he already knows. None of those crusty old fools on the council can keep a secret." Starscream glared at some of the stationed guards as he passed them. "But bring him to my quarters tonight. I want the both of you with me."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not letting them ship me off to Kaon alone, obviously." Starscream gave him an impatient look. "Who will bribe the medics for me?"
Skywarp smiled, and knowing his trine would travel with him and start a new life in a war torn pit-hole of a city was more than enough to boost Starscream's wavering confidence. He had never met a Tarnish mech, let alone a pit dweller, let alone a warlord, but surely, one power mad idiot was the same as the next, and Starscream knew how to deal with plenty of those.
Soundwave passed Megatron a message to say Starscream was on his way, and that a formal ceremony was already being arranged by the Vosian Council. If Megatron was to find their prince satisfactory, they would be conjunxed within the week.
Megatron handed the message back, saying nothing. The Vosians certainly didn't waste any time. Courting in Tarn took years, often longer. A callous part of him thought he should be grateful for their speed. The sooner he fulfilled the Councils requirements, the sooner he would have an Air Force to rival that of any in this galaxy, let alone the planet. He had won a lot less with a lot more effort than just putting a newspark in the chamber of a pretty young prince.
"Take him to my quarters when he arrives." Megatron picked up his intel file again, frowning at yesterday's troop losses. "I'll attend to him there."
Soundwave tilted his helm.
"What?" Megatron snapped.
"Vos has strict social inhibitions concerning contact between betrothed pairs before they are conjunxed. The Crown Prince is arriving with an entourage tasked to ensure his virtue remains intact."
Megatron let the intel fall to the desk heavily. "Am I forbidden from speaking to my own intended?! In my own fortress?"
"Forbidden from being in his presence unchaperoned." Soundwave elaborated.
Megatron scowled down at the desk. Cultural inhibitions or not, the Vosians seemed to be taking extreme lengths to prevent him from speaking to this Starscream freely. It was suspicious. It raised flags.
"I want you to keep a close optic on the Vosians." Megatron decided. "Particularly how they speak out of my presence, when they think no one is listening."
"You wish to spy on our guests?"
"I wish to know, without the interference of others, if their Prince is a willing conjunx, or sold prisoner."
Soundwave nodded. "Acknowledged."
Starscream had heard little of Kaon. It wasn't a known vacation hot spot so it held little interest to him. He knew only that it was dark, humid, polluted, overpopulated, and low, in more ways than one. He supposed it wasn't so overpopulated now that it had been conquered and ravaged. There were still dead in the streets. Starscream spotted a dismembered hand in the gutter as they passed into the inner city, and saw the fortress of Kolkular looming over them, high above the dank dwellings of Kaon's outskirts.
Decepticon insignias were painted in energon on the side of the buildings, and bulky low-caste labourers stood on every street corner, armed and angry, and branded with that same purple mark.
Starscream flicked his wings, wondering where Megatron would decide to brand him, and if that's the only way he planned to mark him.
"This sucks." Skywarp muttered behind him. "It's one thing to forbid us from just flying up there and making us walk, but couldn't they have sent a street cleaner through first. There's congealed life-fluid in my thrusters!"
"Quiet, Warp," Thundercracker growled, sticking close to Starscream's left when Skywarp's raised voice attracted the attention of the nearest Decepticon thugs.
The Vosian guards in front of them prevented any trouble, but the Decepticons took a good long look at them as they passed. Starscream heard an appreciative whistle. Skywarp tried to turn around, mouth opening, but Thundercracker grabbed his wing and forced him forwards again. "Just walk."
Kolkular was a fortress built for battle, and as such, had limited entrances. Unlike the Royal Palace Starscream had called home, it didn't have a grand entryway, and there was no greeting procession, just a pair of huge shuttles with mounted arm cannons and bad attitudes. Starscream's Guard Commander stepped out and extended a datapad. One of the shuttles took it, then nodded, slapping a obnoxiously large red button behind him.
A low droning noise began, at which point Starscream realised the door was actually the entrance to the rickety old drill elevator he was clearly expected to ride up in.
"Can't we just fly?" Skywarp complained.
"And get disintegrated by the energy field?" The other shuttle laughed, gesturing up to the huge dome structure above the fortress. "Be our guests."
The elevator arrived and the shuttles stepped aside. The guards watched Starscream step inside, followed by Thundercracker and Skywarp.
"Farewell, your highness." The Guard Commander bid him goodbye, voice dripping with smugness. "Till we return on the eve of your ceremony."
Starscream sneered, and Skywarp slammed the manual door shut behind them. The elevator begin to rise.
"Maybe it'll look better on the inside?" Thundercracker murmured as they juddered higher, surveying the dull grey and rusted patches of the elevator. "Megatron calls himself a 'Lord'. I doubt he'd be satisfied with living somewhere that looks like such a... dump."
"He is Tarnish." Skywarp piped up. "One of the armoury workers I was talking to the other day said he visited, once. Said the miners recharged underground, in the dirt. With the ore worms."
Starscream wished he'd shut up.
"Megatron probably thinks this is homely." Skywarp continued, swiping a digit through rust and rubbing his fingers together. "Do you think we'll be recharging on the floor too, or just a pile of weapons?"
"Skywarp." Thundercracker growled in warning.
Starscream didn't the catch the look Thundercracker flashed him, but it was enough to buy them silence for the rest of the ride up.
When the elevator reached it's destination Starscream was half tempted to tell his trine to take it back down again and go home, but the door opened, granting him access into Kolkular's inner hub. A mech was stood wating for him, masked and visored, with a deadly looking mounted shoulder cannon. He didn't present himself like a Kaonite grunt, so Starscream assumed he must be important.
"Your highness." The mech greeted, vocaliser stuck on a low, droning monotone. He dipped his head to Starscream, without having needed to be told which one them, exactly, was the prince. He extended a large hand, "Soundwave."
Starscream went to take his hand, but Soundwave grasped his forearm instead, pulling him closer and tightening his grip briefly before letting go again. Starscream frowned, realising how much he was going to have to adapt to here if these lower castes couldn't even greet one another properly.
"My trine." He gestured back to Thundercracker and Skywarp, who flanked him closely, understandably overprotective. "They will be staying with me. Indefinitely."
Soundwave seemed to understand what he meant by indefinitely, nodding. "Lord Megatron has provided a room for you."
"And where is he?" Starscream craned his neck to try and see him in the busy inner hub, searching for a mech that might fit the vague description he had of Megatron; large, scarred, grey, and angry looking. Decepticons were milling about everywhere. Some warriors, most looked to be intelligence workers, moving between monitors and each other, passing datapads-
"Absent." Was all Soundwave said, stepping to the side to block Starscream's view of the largest monitor, which was playing footage of what looked like an Autobot facility. Soundwave gestured for them to follow him. "He will return to attend to you before nightfall."
"He can't touch Starscream till the ceremony next week," Skywarp piped up, jumping to conclusions, Starscream tried to elbow him to shut him up. "Ow! I'm just-"
"Lord Megatron is aware of your customs and has agreed to abide by proper Vosian Tradition in regards to the conjunxing." Soundwave's visor glinted over his shoulder. "No action will be taken by him that may threaten the security of this alliance."
Starscream scowled to himself. There went plan A. He'd been at least hoping for a reckless lecherous fool of a mech, one that thought with his spike as well as he did his processor. He might have been able to manipulate circumstances in his own favour that way.
Soundwave was watching him closely as they walked. Starscream made sure to school his features.
"Good." He finally acknowledged.
"You are reluctant?" Soundwave asked.
"Of course not." Starscream ignored the vile taste in his mouth as he lied and smiled. "I am here to do my duty for Vos, of course."
The room wasn't half as bad as Skywarp had prattled on about it being. It was at the very top of Kolkular, sharing the floor with several other rooms, one of which, he suspected, that must have been his intended's. It was unfortunately windowless, and when Skywarp asked, Soundwave had impressed upon how important Starscream's safety was. Windows would have made him too visible, too vulnerable.
The room was as grey as the rest of the fortress. It didn't have much rust, only the odd bit between the wall panels and in the corners, and he'd been given a berth. A bare one. Not a pillow in sight.
Starscream longed for his chaise lounge.
"We should have assassinated the Winglord as soon as we knew what he was planning." Skywarp complained, checking under the berth for intruders, or worse, listening devices.
"Yes, so the Chancellor could have traded Starscream for peace instead?" Thundercracker snarked, circling the room. Given it's size, it didn't take him long.
"Both of them then."
"And then General Whitewing? And his lieutenant?" Thundercracker continued. "And the Foreign Secretary and his entire office and-?"
"Yes!" Skywarp crawled back to his feet. "Everyone. We should have killed everyone."
"Shut up," Starscream snapped, tired of them arguing over decisions long since passed. "We could have assassinated the whole palace and there still would have been someone ready to sell me into Decepticon clutches for their own benefit. And even if somehow there wasn't, and all those usurping politicians were dead, I would be left in charge. And then whose head would have been sliced off when Megatron took the city by force? Mine, that whose!"
"He might not have killed you." Skywarp mumbled.
"No." Starscream agreed. "What do you think he might have done with me if he hadn't killed me? It was death or conjunxing. Those were the only choices I had."
He potentially had had that third option, which was worse than both, but he'd rather not think about that yet.
"If he's cruel-" Thundecracker began.
"Then we kill him." Starscream snapped again, taking a seat on the hard, stiff berth. "After he and I are conjunxed and after I have conceived his heir. No point assassinating a warlord if I can't take his place when he's dead."
Skywarp dropped down next to him, smiling adoringly. "You're so clever-"
Starscream nudged him away when he tried to get closer. "Don't do that. They don't understand trines here."
Skywarp sulkily pulled away, "No one's watching."
Starscream glared around the disgusting little room. "Someone is always watching."
Soundwave came to Megatron with an update on their guests sooner than he would have expected. He dismissed the sentry he had been speaking to to clear the room.
"Well?"
"Starscream; means to kill you." Soundwave reported without hesitation.
Megatron took a seat at the war table, gesturing for Soundwave to join him. Already he could feel a smile pulling at his lips. So much for his fears of conjunxing a meek little bird. The Vosians had seen fit to send him a raptor.
"Good." He poured them both a drink. "Tell me more."