Monchie11223 - :3

Okay, I just wanna say that I love ALL the fic ideas you came up with and I desperately want to read all of them but I know everyone else wants that too, so for the sake of your mental sanity, I'll pick my favorites

Also, as much as I cry/go feral over your angst works, your fluff/crack stuff does something to my brain chemistry that I need

So I really want to see more of the prompts I requested (omg, someone wanting to see more of their prompt, who would've guessed? Though which one you wanna expand on is up to you) as well as "Of all the things that could happen, did have to be this?", "Human Females Do What Once A Month?!", "Cybertrons newest younglings/sparklings"

Those are some of my personal favorites but if you aren't feeling it or wanna do angst, you do you. Love all your amazing work and thanks for listening to my rambles 🙃

Well thank you for the chance to write more fluff! I am so happy you like my work friend! I've been meaning to get to this request for a while now. But classes have been dragging me kicking and screaming through the mud.

Prompt for this request here.

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Of all the things that could happen, did it have to be this?

The battle for the Omega Lock was by far one of the most intense any of the Decepticons had ever engaged in. It was a fierce and brutal conflict that left both sides struggling. However in the end, all Autobots on Earth were captured, promptly executed, and had their bodies thrown into the Cybermatter as a taunt toward their desperate attempts to regain control of the relic. But of course, this singular act of smug retribution came with consequences.

As the bodies of the Autobots sank into the Cybermatter, the Matrix blazed and collected the sparks of the fallen within itself in an attempt to preserve them. Then, with the aid of the Cybermatter surrounding it, the Matrix did as it was made to. It remade those it was offered. Optimus it kept to itself, but the others? It molded them again granting them new life and hoping to save them from execution once more by altering how they emerged. It could not erase who they were, nor did it want to. No, it needed to preserve them and give them a chance.

With that in mind, there was no way the Decepticons, who were still reveling in their victory, could have ever predicted eight sparklings clambering out of the Omega Lock screaming and shivering. At first the gathered Decepticons were too shocked to act, but as a young Smokescreen wailed, Starscream moved without thinking. With soft murmurs and croons, the Seeker held the sparkling close to himself, soothing him with gentle touches and songs. After that, there was no stopping it. Megatron was cruel, but he was not the the kind to allow sparklings to die, no matter their origin. Thus he gathered the sparklings, brought them onto the Nemesis, and set course for Cybertron. Earth was all but forgotten amidst the chaos.

A meeting was held with all of high command as soon as the Nemesis was out of Earth's orbit. There was brief discussion of killing the sparklings considering they were formerly Autobots, however that was shut down immediately by Starscream throwing the biggest fit any on the Nemesis had the displeasure to deal with. The Seeker threw away any pretense of cowardice in order to defend the sparklings, regardless of whatever wrath Megatron might hold toward him after the fact. Thankfully for him, Knockout was quick to support his stance, even going so far as to threaten to damage the ship and tell the Vehicons about the incident if the order to kill the sparklings was given.

As such, with no other choice considering the threat of mutiny, Megatron sighed, and had the sparklings distributed until a better plan could be devised. The Nemesis continued to soar toward Cybertron, but the trip would take time and quite frankly, what interest Megatron had in Earth all but faded. Optimus was a sparkling, and without his foe fighting for the planet so viciously, the competitive desire to take the world was no longer present. Cybertron was his focus, even more so now that there were sparklings on board to fuel and raise. They had been at war for far too long, and now with the Autobot elites stuck as sparklings, it had practically been ended. Cybertron needed to be restored, and Megatron would see to it, if only to ensure he didn't lose the loyalty of his soldiers.

Of course, taking care of sparklings was far easier said than done. Each of the newly reforged Autobots seemed to have something... off about them. All were assessed by Shockwave and with his aid, assigned to the appropriate caretakers until further notice.

Smokescreen was biologically the youngest and based on the tests run, the most mentally stable. He behaved as a perfectly normal sparkling, with all the little quirks and habits of the newly emerged. In order to ensure that the sparklings with more... pressing needs were attended to, Smokescreen was given to the Vehicons, under the supervision of Starscream of course. The former Autobot rookie was perfectly tame for the most part and by all accounts, terrible friendly. He didn't care for who was tending to him and had a fantastic time with just about anyone. He only cried when he wanted something and was totally at ease for the most part. He had no sense of stranger danger whatsoever. His only notable quirk was the simple fact that whenever he got a glimpse of the other Autobots-turned-sparklings, something seemed to click in him.

In the instances where he caught sight of his former comrades, Smokescreen lost any and all self control. He would scream, kick, bite, and overall fight denta and digit to get away from whoever was taking care of him. There was an intelligence in his optics during those instances, and cunning calculation that often led to the sparkling somehow wriggling away and booking it after whoever it was he spotted. Thankfully for everyone, he would calm quite easily once allowed to interact with whoever it was he wanted to get to. He needed at least a half groon with the former comrade in question, but then he would not struggle against being removed.

Bulkhead was the second least difficult sparkling to handle. He and Wheeljack could not be separated without causing both to throw horrible fits and reject energon, and so were given to a caretaker together. Knockout ended up being the one to take both under his wing, partially due to their relation to Breakdown before their reforging, but largely because he was one of the few ground units that could be trusted with unruly sparklings. He treated them perfectly well and took great care of them. Knockout threw himself into the tending of his new charges, even going so far as to create carriers that he wore on his front and back, one for each sparkling. Both his charges were given ample entertainment and offered enough affection to be somewhat smothering. But of course, there were issues.

For an undeterminable reason, Bulkhead spent a great deal of time crying. Next to nothing Knockout did ever seemed to calm him. All that worked for the former Wrecker was being held close to Knockout at all times. Often this led Knockout to carry the sparkling around everywhere during the cycle, even while working. Bulkhead could not be left alone or he would begin to wail. Having Wheeljack with him helped, but Wheeljack had his own set of problems that made having him around a blessing and a curse. Perhaps due to his prior love of any and all things explosion related, Wheeljack was a master at eluding Knockout while he tended to his more sensitive ward. Wheeljack then proceeded to always get into something important, be it the inner workings of the Nemesis, or some wiring that inevitably led to partial blackouts. It was somewhat amusing most of the time for Knockout, up until Wheeljack started making Megatron mad.

Knockout has since kept to giving Wheeljack random broken electronic parts to mess with instead of watching his wreck havoc on the ship. Of course the pyromaniac still manages to escape the confines of Knockout's workspace here and there, but it is nothing serious... usually.

Arcee ended up with Starscream quite simply due to her rather debilitating problem. Anything that moved too quickly, she immediately did her best to attack and kill despite her small size. More specifically, anything with too much kibble for her liking ended up receiving her ire. Shockwave predicted it was due to lingering trauma from Arachnid, but whatever the case, she hurt herself and sometimes others because of her aggressive tendencies. Starscream, long used to tending to feral seeker sparklings, took her on as his own in an instant. He took every precaution tending to her despite her lack of flight capability. It had been far too long since he last saw or was even able to come near a sparkling.

Arcee was a vicious little thing, but Starscream handled her with grace none on the Nemesis knew he possessed. She quickly came to only calm around Starscream and her former Autobot companions as the seeker worked to earn her trust. It was an arduous process, but Starscream carefully cleaning her, singing to her, helping her fuel, and constantly holding her as close to himself as possible yielded results. She could not be around any of the other Decepticons without her newfound caretaker for fear of her hurting herself, but she was renown for the happy sounds she made when particularly at peace. Starscream has a whole album filled with photos of his adopted ward, which he shows off as if it were the documentation giving him ownership of Cybertron itself.

Ultra Magnus was a difficult sparkling to be placed under a caretaker. At first he was given to Knockout alongside Wheeljack and Bulkhead, but that swiftly led to numerous fights between the trio. Not to mention a startling lack of emotion from the former leader of the Wreckers and a subsequent explosion of it made handling him alongside the other two impossible. Ultra Magnus was a mess of emotions and couldn't be predicted at all for the most part... well except by one scientist. Shockwave did fight hard to not be given the position of tending to the sparkling, but Ultra Magnus needed a steady servo to guide him. He reacted to any sort of emotions that others presented with extreme prejudice. Shockwave had no facial components for Ultra Magnus to react to, nor did Shockwave have any outward emotional responses.

There were MANY concerns from Knockout and Starscream about Shockwave possibly turning Ultra Magnus into his lab rat or abusing him. However against the expectations of pretty much everyone, Shockwave was a highly dutiful caretaker once the mantle of being a parent was passed to him. He took all the necessary steps to tend to his ward, including setting up an entire section of his laboratory specifically for Ultra Magnus. In turn, Magnus was as happy as could be in a safe, controlled, and calm environment. He thrived in the stable comfort Shockwave provided and was content to remain quiet as the scientist kept careful tabs on what he needed and when. There was never a moment when Magnus wanted for anything, and in the odd instance where something set him off, Shockwave was there to hold him as he worked, waiting until Magnus calmed. Emotionally Shockwave was not particularly invested, but with Magnus's mental state, that seemed to be for the best for both of them.

Ratchet was an interesting case in that he REFUSED to be cared for by anyone. He was... odd to say the least. Being the most developed out of all the sparklings, he could easily toddle and was capable of managing basic words. What he said was concerning more often than not. He seemed to know things he really shouldn't, especially regarding death and medicine. In the end, Megatron himself ended up snatching up the former medic and becoming his overseer more so than a Sire. Ratchet had no interest in forming any real parental bonds, but he was more than accepting of tutelage despite his relative youth. That suited Megatron just fine as often he would allow Ratchet to roam with a Vehicon as an escort. In turn, Ratchet would visit with almost every one of his former compatriots and hang around with Megatron's inner circle, watching and learning without complaint.

The only times he made a fuss where when Megatron was eventually forced to come grab him from wherever he was hiding out and take him to his crib. Ratchet was NEVER pleased with that development. He got his energon from those his visited, and his assigned Vehicons tended to him when he required aid. He had no interest in being put to bed against his wishes, even if he was not exactly sure why. Once he had Ratchet secured, Megatron would fulfill his one vaguely parental task of the cycle and tuck the sparkling in, answering several questions and reading Ratchet a book of his choice before bidding him a good recharge cycle and leaving. Ratchet was a strange and oddly mature sparkling, one constantly hounding his fellows to ensure they were well. And despite the hatred Megatron once held to the former medic, he came to appreciate Ratchet's willingness to learn and was more than happy to give him classes necessary for a future leader. Ratchet didn't seem all that enthusiastic about leadership, but he took the lessons without complaint.

All the sparklings settled into some sort of situation, that is all save for Optimus and Bumblebee. Their situation was.... unique in the extreme. Before their reforging, Optimus and Bumblebee were bound as Father and Son. The Matrix, in its infinite wisdom saw this fact, and not wishing to destroy those bonds, came up with a fantastic solution. It simply... didn't give Bumblebee a proper frame. Optimus emerged from the Cybermatter screaming and ready to wage war despite being the size of Megatron's servo. But that was not the strange part about his and Bumblebee's situation. No, it was the fact that when examinations were run, it was revealed that Bumblebee's spark shared a chamber with Optimus's. Through some strange means, he yet lived, but was not yet truly developed. Optimus carried his sparkling within him alongside the resized Matrix, and based on the scans, it seemed that once Optimus was large enough, the Prime was going to likely go through the oddity that was budding.

That took almost everyone by surprise. Budding was not... unheard of. However it was so rare as to be little more than a fairy tale. Often it was the result of a set of spark twins forged from a hotspot not developing with enough protoform for both of them to have frames. In those instances, whichever sibling developed would eventually bulk up until there was enough protoform to break off and produce a frame for their sibling. Even in those extraordinarily rare cases, modern technology meant that it was often easier to artificially produce a protoform for the twin without a frame. With that in mind, there was discussion of having that done to Bumblebee, however a shriek of outrage from Optimus and a good look at the adult sized protoforms on board that that idea flying out the window. Not to mention Optimus's Sire coding was still active despite his youthful body, meaning that any attempt to take what he saw as HIS would end horribly. Bumblebee would be left alone, at least until Cybertron was stabilized.

Bumblebee's spark appeared healthy enough once they could strap the half feral Prime down long enough to get a solid look at his spark chamber. The gold and white mote of light spun happily around its far larger counterpart, pulsating as it swirled like a nebula. Optimus for his part was fiercely protective, and once released and given time to calm himself around his companions, he too revealed his oddities. Much like Ratchet, he seemed to know a bit too much and had little desire to seek out a parental unit. During the trip to Cybertron he largely avoided everyone and wandered the Nemesis, only remaining with his former comrades to receive fuel and check on them. Often he fell into recharge in dark corners, unwilling to settle down anywhere due to his parental desires. Thankfully for Knockout and Starscream's mental health, Soundwave, through bribery with energon goodies and respectful interaction, managed to acquire Optimus's trust.

While most certainly odd, Soundwave found himself with the young Prime as his ward. Optimus was perfectly content to remain quiet, muttering to himself and to the unframed spark within him as he followed Soundwave and watched. He was not a nuisance, and so the spymaster had no issue teaching the young Prime his craft and caring for him as required. Theirs was a strange relationship, one that never fully stepped into mentorship or a familial tie. They simply existed and assisted the other as much as possible. But of course their care for each other was quite clear when Soundwave would silently stalk the halls with Optimus clinging to one of his cables as he hurried to keep up.

They were processor ache inducing menaces at times, especially when Ratchet and Optimus managed to meet and be creepy together or when Wheeljack managed to get Ultra Magnus into a tizzy, but they were the former Autobots were Decepticon wards now. Most of the caretakers involved in tending to them would have it no other way, especially once the startling realization that they still required the Allspark to fully repair their world hit them all in the helms. That left them two choices.

One: Wait until Optimus was old enough to guide them to it.

Two: Try to focus on rebuilding Cybertron until Shockwave could find a way to locate it.

Either option involved time and a great deal of sparkling rearing in the meantime.

Superman: Are you sure this is the right spot? I mean who robs a bank in the middle January in Gotham?

Batman: Yes I’m sure. My informant is never wro- hn?

Nightwing: Open up please I’m cold.

Batman: …

Nightwing: …

Batman: *opens cape*

Nightwing: thank you!

Superman: uh..

Red hood: Move over I’m freezing out here!

Red Robin: Nightwing get to the back! You gotta make room!

Superman: ???

Spoiler: Agent A was right! I should have taken the winter suit! Excuse me, pardon me!

Orphan: … scoot.

Signal: T-thanks, B!

Robin: Fools! The lot of you! I have a legitimate reason to seek shelter! My winter suit is in need of repairs!

Batman:

*Sigh*

Superman: How were you able to all fit under there?

Red Robin from inside the cloak: Hammer space! Ow!

Nightwing from inside the cloak: Don’t joke about that!

*very high pitched honking*

there isn’t a thing about this i don’t love

Immortals

Cybertronians are ancient beings, but even they age. Their frames deteriorate, and if that isn't what puts them in the grave, then eventually their sparks grow weary and fade. It is the way of things, and with time, every Cybertronian reaches the end of their road. All accepted this reality, but with the passage of time, a few mecha have found that they simply do not suffer as the rest.

Megatron more so than others.

[Please note this is a solid 10k nightmare that was also posted on Ao3 so be ready to READ if you click on the read more.]

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Death was by no means a new concept for Megatron. He was raised amidst it, lived relishing in it, and now wandered through the remnants of places that once flourished. In a way, it was part of him just as much as he was part of it. He brought death wherever he went, as such it was only fitting in a rather poetic sense that death spared him its embrace. He offered so many sparks to satisfy the appetite of the void, why would it not reward him by refusing him the chance to perish in peace?

For several long vorns, all he did was wander the stars after being freed from Unicron’s control. He had no purpose without his cause, and he had no desire to see any suffer as he did under the great devourer. Whatever urge to conquer once plagued his spark was long gone. In its place… he felt the desire to instead try and find himself again. So much madness and devastation. He forgot who he was, and he desperately wished to recover that lost sense of self. 

He wasn’t entirely sure when the decision was made, but at some point during his wanderings, not even a millennia after he fled to the stars, Megatron meandered his way back to Cybertron. There was no hiding who he was, nor did he really bother trying. What was the point of that? Everyone was bound to know him based on his face alone regardless of whether or not he went through the trouble of filing down spikes and rusted armor plates. He fully expected to be met with raised blasters and blades, however, he was instead greeted by familiar faces and smiles.

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“Look who crawled in from the asteroid belt. While you were off doing who knows what, I Starscream was given a senatorial seat!” Starscream stood as proudly as ever, a slag-eating smile on his face as he gestured toward the badge on his shoulder. Megatron could only be thankful it wasn’t a crown or gaudy cape the seeker had chosen as his designator of profession and rank. 

“I can see that, Starscream” Megatron hissed as the seeker continued to preen with pride. Beside him, Soundwave and Optimus stood. The former refused to even look at Megatron, an unsurprising reaction when all things were considered. The latter merely smiled as kindly as ever, his frame still bulky and unsightly, no longer the smaller more mobile form that he possessed before their Primus forsaken war. 

“It is good that you have returned Megatron. I believe there is much to discuss.” The Prime stated simply as if Megatron hadn’t fragged off for almost a millennia and then sauntered back to Cybertron still carrying the burden of the many lives he ended. Then again, if the Prime allowed Starscream of all mecha to have a seat of power, perhaps Megatron being greeted kindly was not totally out of the question. Optimus was always a soft sparked fool.

“You aren’t going to try and blast me to bits, Prime? One would think after a war as bitter as ours that the people would demand justice.” Starscream scoffed, Soundwave twitched from where he was looking over a datapad, and the situation as a whole grew somewhat tense until Optimus replied. 

“The war is over Megatron. You are no longer leader of the Decepticons, nor am I the sole leader of the Autobots. Things have changed, amends have been made. I will not say there is no lingering bitterness, but there is a second chance for you if you wish to take it.” A long silence reigned as Megatron considered. The world around him was not the one he knew or wanted, but it was Cybertron, it was his home. He had no intention of lingering for long, but what was the harm in remaining for a time?

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Arrangements were made and Megatron took up a job as a simple poet. His spark demanded he climb the ladder and try to wrestle some form of control away from the senate that formed in his absence. However he did not trust himself to not abuse that power should he gain it, not when the power of Unicron still tainted him. He remained quiet, contemplative, and docile as he worked on his various philosophical writings, largely uncaring of the world outside. Too many new faces, too many strange places with new names that were once locations he considered ‘home’.

Most only recognized him from their history lessons and thus treated him fairly normally. A few of the older bots wandering around sneered or hurried away in fear, but as a general rule, Megatron was left alone when he did go to the cities for whatever reason. He had no need for fuel, Unicron’s taint made the inherent necessity of energon null and void. It was disturbing at times, but he preferred it that way. It meant he was not required to head to cities often to restock. The newness of Cybertron was unsettling, and he was perfectly content to remain far away from the cities out in the renewed spire forests near what was now titled New Kaon. He didn’t want to or rather didn’t trust himself to get involved in the changing state of his homeworld. Thus, he kept quiet, held his helm low, and focused on himself. 

The only ones he interacted with were old companions and enemies, mecha he knew well from war. He never left his hideaway out in the woods save for when Optimus dragged him away to do something or other or give his opinion on a legislation. The Prime seemed to have made it his life mission to redeem everyone and everything if his growing collection of reformed Decepticon and Autobot advisors said anything. Still, it was a comfort in a way. It made Megatron feel… normal, especially once he finally began dealing with old wounds. 

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“Megatron: Abandoned the cause.” Soundwave sat beside him on his porch, looking up at the stars above. He had not spoken to his former second-in-command since his arrival on Cybertron. Neither was willing to speak to the other despite how much it ate away at them both. It hurt too much.

“I know,” Megatron replied simply. There was little else to say. What could he say? Soundwave gave everything to their cause, believing in Megatron and what they fought for. Then without warning, Megatron abandoned that cause, leaving all their efforts to waste away and Cybertron to fall under Autobot rule, at least technically. The senate was composed of mecha from all factions. Optimus was a fool, but he and his inner circle were good about trying to have a wide variety of opinions. 

“Megatron: Left Soundwave to rust. Left Shockwave in Autobot servos. Left loyal followers to be captured and imprisoned.” Again, his oldest friend spoke and Megatron repeated his prior phrase.

“I know.”

 Soundwave sat still beside him, his visor keeping Megatron from knowing what expression he was making. They said nothing for what had to be at least a long thirty or so kliks, both lost in their thoughts. The stars shone above them, a testament to the glory of their world when the skies were not blackened with smog and the fumes of burning cities. He could still smell the plasma in his olfactory sensors, he could still hear the screams in the dead of his recharge cycles. Despite that, there was peace to be found just… sitting and observing with his dear friend as if they were both still young and hopeful. 

“Will you stay? Will you abandon us again?” A soft and grim voice called out to him in the gloom of the cycle. Megatron hummed, feeling his thrusters warm a degree as he considered again retreating to the stars. This world was not home anymore, but those he cared for remained. It would not do for him to leave them for good, not after the torment he dragged them through in the name of freedom.

“I will Soundwave. Until there are none who care for me, I shall remain.” Spindly digits reached out and gently touched him. Megatron did not need to look to appreciate the weight on his arm where Soundwave offered a degree of comfort. They needed each other, more than anything else, they needed familiarity.

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Time was something Megatron did not often pay close attention to in his quiet dwelling. His servos were occupied with his written works, his mind consoled by the occasional queries sent to him by Soundwave and Optimus, and his spark was eased as he watched the forest around him thrive. The anniversaries of Cybertron’s restoration were his only true method of keeping time. First, there was the 691st, which Optimus dragged him off to in order to show the people how much old wounds were healing. Then there was the 843rd where Starscream threw a tart at his helm and spurred on one of the most impressive fuel fights Megatron had ever seen.

The 927th where Soundwave scared Optimus’s favored medic so badly that the spymaster was nearly met with a blade. The 1034th where the Earth team Megatron fought against during the last days of the war threw all their collected blackmail at one another. Then there was the 1130th where a whole batch of younglings managed to convince Megatron to tell them a few stories…

Vorns passed and yet not once did it seem that anyone he cared for changed at all. Starscream was still a glitch, Soundwave was as dutiful as ever assisting the Prime and his senate in handling internal affairs, and Shockwave remained a genius in science once he was allowed to roam on parole. Knockout was doing something or other and evidently making a great profit off it, and the Autobots Megatron recognized seemed to be doing just fine. The world changed, but the mecha he knew stayed the same for the most part, that is save for the odd paint change such as Starscream’s botched attempt to sport gold for a short time. 

They were constants, stable reminders of who Megatron was and what influence he had aside from the pure devastation he wrought. But of course, that mindset did not last. Not once he made the decision to visit the rebuilt city of Iacon on a whim. When he arrived, Optimus sat with the elected senators discussing policies and other things that Megatron had little care for. However, as he looked around, concern and a degree of shock were quick to worm their way into his spark.

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“Did you really invite him to assist in these matters, Optimus? I can’t exactly patch you up like I used to if he goes off the rails!” Ratchet, the Prime’s loyal lap dog, raised his cane into the air with a scowl as he gestured toward where Megatron stood in growing horror near the door. He hated the fragger with a vengeance, yet he couldn’t help but wonder… When did the medic get a cane? When did his plating dull so much? At what point did his joints begin cracking every fourth step?

“I did not invite him, old friend. However his presence is welcome, he has much he can contribute.” Optimus smiled gently and gestured for Megatron to take a seat in an empty chair a few seats down from him. Megatron obliged, albeit with a degree of hesitation as he examined the rest of the senate members. 

Most were new faces he did not know well aside from what he gathered from the data Soundwave occasionally sent him for review. However, those he did know were… different. Perhaps the celebrations clouded his judgment, but now that he saw them without the atmosphere of cheer and remembrance, their differences were stark and clear. 

“Finally done with your self-imposed exile Lord Megatron? I am sure there is some position I could have you fill serving under one of my officers.” The urge to chuck something at the arrogant seeker was strong, but any retort died on his glossa as he observed his former officer. Starscream had gotten a frame change long before Megatron returned from the stars, and it never really struck him how drastic the differences were until that moment when he really looked. 

Starscream’s plating was darker, no longer lustrous, and a sure sign of nanite failure. His wings, which he religiously held high throughout all of his youth, now dipped to a degree due to tiredness in what were once strong cables and hydraulics. His face was sharper, still polished and shining, but covered in small nicks and creases in the metal from long vorns of continual activity. What was most startling to Megatron was the way in which the seeker sat. No longer did he hold himself as if he were attempting to impress everyone, instead he sat perfectly composed, still proud, but with an air of earned respect. Shockwave and Soundwave were not much better off. Both sat slightly hunched in their seats, their armor dulled and any exposed components appearing far frailer than they once were. 

Where had his proud warriors gone? Megatron had not experienced any signs of wear and tear, so why should his officers be dealing with it so seriously? If they were being overworked, he would have words for the Prime…

And yet, seeing how Ratchet all but hobbled along with his cane as he grumbled his way to his chair, Megatron began to doubt it was Optimus’s doing. The others at the table were perfectly fine, almost exuding youthful energy with how vibrantly their plating shone and with how energetic their voices were as they put forward ideas and debated. 

“Let us continue, shall we?” Optimus guided the conversation along with expert precision that left Megatron slightly bewildered. The Prime was always an excellent speaker, but now he seemed older, wiser perhaps. His optics were tired even as he maintained his smile and welcomed the late arrivals. 

Megatron sat in silence throughout the meeting for the most part. All he could do was watch and finally see how much those he knew had degraded. He struggled to believe it, especially when his armor still glinted and his spark hummed with power. This wasn’t right, it couldn't be right. How could those he knew be falling to pieces while he endured? Perhaps he was overreacting. Optimus seemed fine after all. 

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After the revelation of his compatriots' degradation, Megatron made far more frequent trips to the cities to visit them. Death was nothing new, and yet he could hardly comprehend it in those he once saw as functionally immortal. Cybertronians did not wither as other species, it was not in their nature. However, given time, their frames would break down, and should that fail to bring them to their end, their spark would weaken and putter out at some point, regardless of the newness of a frame. 

Most simply never bothered trying to hold themselves together once their frames started to fall apart if they lived long enough to reach that point. Self-repair systems could keep a mech up and running in prime condition for millions of years. As such when they finally started to show signs of aging, it was often taken as a sign and allowed to be. No matter how many components were replaced or how many times mind and spark were transferred, once the original frame started to crumble, it was only a matter of time. Some like Ratchet could last far longer than others for any plethora of reasons, but sooner or later, death would come for them, one haunting step at a time. 

After that meeting, Megatron knew it would happen eventually. He knew sooner or later those he cared for would start to fall one by one. Even still, when he came to visit Shockwave and found the mech dead in his laboratory, his spark long had gone out and his frame undisturbed due to his lack of friends… Megatron found it hurt more than he thought it would. 

Shockwave’s funeral was a short and sweet affair. Those who knew him from before the war bid their final goodbyes, a few loyal Decepticons offered condolences, and surprisingly, the Predacons who had taken to ruling over the still undeveloped west came as well. They knelt before Shockwave’s gray and lifeless frame and offered quiet words of thanks to the scientist for giving them life. As Shockwave left no will behind, there were no objections when Predaking took the body of his creator to be laid to rest in the lands he had dominion over. A great scientist, a master geneticist, and once upon a time, a true friend. 

  ━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

“Thank you for all you did Shockwave. I do not know if this is what you would have wanted, but I doubt you would have minded this outcome all that much.” Predaking had taken care to ensure that Shockwave’s memory was properly upheld with a memorial engraved with abstract images of the scientist weaving life from mere bones. Megatron appreciated the effort, especially once blue crystal flowers began to grow around the headstone of his old companion. 

He hoped Shockwave would have at least found a degree of satisfaction in knowing that his creations endured. The reforged Predacons held little love for their creator, but Shockwave was the one who gave them life, and their appreciation was quite clear in their efforts. The memorial was spotless and the newly emerged Predacons that climbed from the Well were all brought before Shockwave’s grave at least once.

Megatron liked to think Shockwave would have been pleased to know that his life served as an example to his creations. Last Megatron checked, there were a few Predacons who had opted to follow in the pedesteps of their creator, aiming to be scientists and researchers like Shockwave. There seemed to be an underlying urge to surpass him amongst all of the newly forged Predacons. Megatron personally found it rather amusing. None would ever be as brilliant as his head scientist.

“Rest well Shockwave. I will return to visit you soon.” Megatron smiled as he watched younger Predacons meander around, observing him in silence. He sighed and patted the memorial once before turning to leave. A growing heaviness weighed down his spark, but he paid it little mind. His old comrade would want him to be strong. Shockwave always despised it when emotions overcame rationality. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

It really shouldn’t have surprised him when the old bag of bolts finally offlined. But it did despite the fact that it was a long time coming. Ratchet’s death was devastating for many of the Autobots, but Optimus more so than any other. It had been a rather sudden thing apparently. According to Soundwave, Ratchet had bid Optimus a good recharge cycle and then passed quickly sometime during the early groons of the cycle without warning. No one suspected much until he failed to arrive for his shift in the clinic. At that point, it was Ratchet’s apprentice and caretaker First Aid who came to check on him only to find his frame lifeless but still warm to the touch. 

Ratchet was a cranky glitch who, while often right in matters of science and medicine, was not the most pleasant to be around. Despite that, hundreds of former Autobots came to his funeral. Ratchet was buried in the forests of Southern Iacon, as per his will. Optimus was too large to be part of the procession carrying the medic’s coffin, but that did not stop him from bidding his companion farewell with the most saddened and sorrowful song Megatron had ever heard from the vocalizer of his former foe. 

The medic was given military honors and his will was seen to. Megatron only came to the funeral partially to spite the fragger with his own continued functioning but largely so that he could be there for the Prime. Bumblebee and other mecha Megatron knew were close to Ratchet stayed for several groons, but they eventually left after their coolant stores ran dry. Despite that, when the other Autobots cleared out and the last came to bid their farewells, Optimus Prime did not move from where he stood at the side of the freshly made grave, his sword dug into the ground and his expression firm as he gazed resolutely ahead. 

Even when acid rain rolled in from the Rust Sea, Optimus did not so much as twitch. He remained quiet, standing guard over the grave of his comrade in what Megatron could only imagine was one final act of loyalty. The rain did not hurt Optimus much, not with how sturdy he was built, but as his paint melted and was washed away by brutal winds, Megatron decided to linger.

━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

“These rains will continue for cycles, Optimus. How long do you intend to remain here?” Megatron stood beside the Prime as the wind howled as the rain assaulted his frame. It didn’t hurt, his armor was touched by the Unmaker. Next to nothing save for the strongest of weapons could damage him. However, Optimus was not the same. The Prime was hardy, that much was true. But he was still mortal in the end, at least in frame. The rains chipped away at his paint and had to be aggravating with their sting as acid puttered against increasingly sore plating. 

“I will remain until I have fulfilled my promise.” Megatron raised a brow at the Prime’s words, watching on curiously as Optimus started to hum quietly, his blade still driven into the ground and his stance firm. 

“And what is that promise?” He questioned cautiously as the wind picked up in severity, battering his and Optimus’s frames with a greater vengeance. The Prime remained quiet for a long few kliks, seemingly lost in thought before at last, he replied.

“It was one of our rites we performed during the war. We made many promises that cycle, not all of which we were able to fulfill. But one of them was that should one of us fall… the other was to stand guard one last time.” Megatron said nothing as the Prime continued to stand, his expression stoic and strong. Optimus and Ratchet’s relationship was something Megatron never fully bothered to look into. It was not relevant to the war, and after his return to Cybertron, it simply was not important. Whatever their connection, they never made a show out of it.

Still, it was quite clear that their bond, regardless of its type, ran deep enough for Optimus Prime to wish to endure the long watch, unmoving until their final rite was complete. It was sweet in a sense, but Megatron found himself more uncertain than anything else as he observed the slight crease around Optimus’s optics. Reaching up to touch his own face revealed nothing of the sort, and for that reason, Megatron worried.

Optimus’s frame was biologically far younger than his due to his reforging at the behest of the other Primes. Combined with the Matrix ensuring the Prime could not die due to his spark puttering out… there were worrying implications. How was it that Optimus and so many others were aging when Megatron did not? Was he like the old medic in that death was taking its sweet time getting to him? Or was there something else, something far grimmer to be concerned with?

━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

After Ratchet, things seemed to fall apart far faster. Almost as if a switch had been flipped, suddenly Megatron could see the differences in everyone. 

Soundwave became frailer, even reaching the point where he physically required the aid of symbiotes to function. His sight grew weaker and his senses poorer so that he could either find himself confined to using a cane or getting symbiotes. Soundwave was quick to choose the latter. Megatron’s former spymaster was not pleased in the slightest when he was offered a few young symbiotes without carrier units, but he accepted them begrudgingly. Often he would shoo them away during Megatron’s visits, usually complaining off and on about how energetic they were. Deep down though, it was quite clear Soundwave cared a great deal about them. They were too high energy for his tastes, but the former spymaster tended to them dutifully and they in turn showered him with assistance when it was required. 

Even still, Megatron was always somewhat distraught when he visited. It was not hard to realize that he simply… did not age. It had been millennia and Megatron felt no weaker in spark, body, or mind. He had no need to visit a medic to confirm it. He could sense it in his very core whenever he took Soundwave’s arm to help him walk. They were almost the same age and yet Soundwave had a cloud of death lingering above him at all times. It was harder to accept than he thought it would be when he watched Soundwave trip and break his leg for the first time from a simple fall.

Speaking with his dear friend in the hospital was optic opening for him to say the least.

 ━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

“I apologize for not catching you, Soundwave. I was not paying close enough attention. I thought the fall would not have affected you so greatly.” Megatron stood by the berthside of his former spymaster. Soundwave for his part lay still in the berth with his arms placed at his sides and his venting was so shallow that it was downright disturbing. He looked so very thin from where Megatron towered over him. His wrists especially seemed two kliks and one stiff breeze away from breaking like a rust stick. 

“Soundwave: Understands. Megatron: Has not fully comprehended situation.” Megatron gave his companion the most befuddled look he could manage, and in response, Soundwave laughed. 

It was a broken and raspy sound that led his vents to hitch in what had to be a painful manner. Soundwave’s symbiotes were quick to flock around him, wiping down his vent filters and adjusting his berth settings so that he was sitting up a bit more. The little things were worried sick, but Soundwave merely hummed and waved them off with one stick-thin arm. They obliged and stepped back after a moment. It hurt Megatron somewhere in his spark to watch the scene. Less than a millennia ago he wouldn’t have put it past Soundwave to be able to eliminate him in the arena. Yet now he laid in a medical berth, his leg welded back into place but his frame so small and fragile looking as to make the repairs seem far from satisfactory. 

“Megatron: Has not aged a cycle since Cybertron’s restoration. Forever youthful. Frame still strong. Mind still sharp. Spark still powerful. Megatron: Untouched my time.” Soundwave gestured toward Megatron’s shining armor, particularly his shoulder plating and his optics with one painfully thin digit. The symbiotes made noises of agreement from where they huddled nearby but otherwise said nothing as Soundwave continued. 

“Soundwave: Not like Megatron. The others: Not like Megatron. We age. We decay. We will die.” Megatron paused as the words registered. His spark flared in his chassis in denial. Logically he knew Soundwave was right. He was different on a fundamental level now. Whatever Unicron did to him changed him, made it so that unless he was cut down, nothing would touch him. Shockwave had already fallen, it was only to be expected that others would soon follow… 

“That won’t happen yet, not for some time. You still have strength in you, my friend. I know you can endure.” Reaching out, Megatron was as gentle as he could be in taking Soundwave’s servo and holding it. The former spymaster shook his helm slowly as he grasped Megatron’s far larger digits with such pitiful strength that Megatron felt true fear worm its way into his spark. Soundwave had always been by his side, ever since the beginning. To lose him-

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Soundwave: Will one day offline. Megatron: Will be left alone.” Soundwave lifted his other arm and with both servos held Megatron’s far larger one. There was a hint of desperation in Soundwave’s field as he pulled himself up as much as he could and began to speak again. 

“Soundwave and others: Will not be here forever. Megatron: Will endure?” Silence reigned for a long moment as Megatron’s spark flared in pain and grief. He did not even wish to consider losing Soundwave… but now he knew it would one cycle be reality. It was going to tear him apart, but he refused to leave Soundwave without comfort.

“I will try.” 

 ━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

It hurt to think on Soundwave’s words, even if Megatron knew he was right. His fellows were aging, younger mecha were taking their place. Soundwave was quickly forced to retire after the incident with his leg, and a younger model bearing the same designation was swiftly pushed into the vacant position. The original Soundwave taught his younger namesake as much as he could, but he was weakening and many of his cycles were spent in his hab in the center of Iacon where he could still be of use if need be. 

Starscream was not much better. 

Over the vorns, he and Starscream had largely reached a strange agreement that bordered on true friendship. Megatron would visit Vos off and on, and in return he would be welcomed and treated as a guest, sometimes even helping Starscream run the city he had dominion over. But it became painfully clear that Starscream was weakening. He still looked his finest at all times, but more tasks were delegated to his younger assistants, and his flights were shorter and less in sync with those he traveled alongside. Starscream’s steps were slower, his wings held lower, and his voice deeper and with an undertone of wisdom, Megatron never expected to hear in his former officer. 

At some point, Starscream had Conjunxed a Speaker from a colony world, one whom Megatron only knew as Windblade. Megatron missed their ceremony since no one informed him of it, but from what he knew, she was far younger and tended to handle rulership when Starscream could not. Supposedly the Conjunxing was merely political, but Windblade seemed to genuinely care for the ailing Lord of Vos, if only in a manner not too dissimilar to an Amica. They even took on a whole gaggle of sparklings of their own to raise, a surprise to Megatron who all but expected Starscream to try his best to be an immortal ruler for as long as physically possible. 

The named Aerialbots were highly skilled due to Starscream’s training, but their existence and excellence only served to further show Starscream’s age. Every vorn his sparklings grew stronger and his Conjunx took more control. It was a slow and sad decline, one that Starscream surprisingly handled with grace. By the time he actually sat down to speak with Starscream one-on-one around Cybertron's 5491st anniversary of restoration, Megatron found himself even more distraught.

━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

“Thank you for coming to visit, Megatron… I worried I would not be able to see you again.” Starscream’s voice was deep and rumbling from long vorns of use. His usual snark was nowhere to be seen as he gazed up at the skies, taking occasional sips of his energon as he observed the Aerialbots performing feats of flight above. His optics were dim and his plating dull, and yet he still smiled softly as he watched his five sparklings soar through the skies in perfect sync. Megatron wanted to be awed by the display and pleased with Starscream’s success in teaching, but he couldn’t let go of Starscream’s words. The seeker he knew would rather find him dead in a gutter than talk to him for any reason that did not have an underlying benefit.

“They remind me of Skywarp and Thundercracker.” Starscream mused as the Aerialbots performed a perfect roll, leaving twisting trails of smoke behind them. Following his gaze, Megatron had to admit it was impressive. And yet… it wasn’t Starscream and his trine. They were new, not mecha that Megatron cared to know or was particularly attached to. 

“You have taught them well.” Megatron settled on commenting as the Aerialbots performed a few twists that Skywarp and Thundercracker performed with far more eloquence alongside their trine leader. If Starscream shared that opinion, he said nothing as he merely hummed and continued to watch for a long few kliks. 

“They are good mecha, Megatron. They are young and just as arrogant as any other seeker, but with time, I know they will do well.” Confusion radiated off Megatron in waves until he saw the wistful smile Starscream had plastered on his face. It seemed so… wrong for the ambitious fragger that Megatron both loved and hated to be bearing anything close to a smile of contentment and peace. He seemed older, wiser, and more ancient than Megatron despite the fact that their ages leaned more in Megatron’s favor in regard to experience. 

“Why did you call me here, Starscream? You have always been ambitious and a pain in the aft. Seeing you like this is unsettling.” It took a moment, but as Starscream registered what was said, he chuckled in what was almost a fond manner before he put down his energon cube and turned to face Megatron properly. Starscream had always been a spindly thing, but seeing him so small was a bit of a shock, especially so soon after really seeing Soundwave’s state. The cape the Lord of Vos wore did give him a bit of extra bulk, but beneath it all, he was thin, weak, and aging. 

He was no longer the Air Commander Megatron relied on for so many millennia during the war. 

“I doubt you’ve noticed much until now considering your circumstances, but I’m old Megatron. All of us are. Even Prime is getting on in vorns. We are all tired, and all those little things that meant so much even a millennia ago simply no longer matter.” The Winglord coughed somewhat harshly, causing him to grip the table and shake for a moment. Megatron reached out to assist but was waved off as Starscream collected himself and continued. 

“I’m out of time. Windblade will be the next Winglord and my sparklings will assist her in leading. I tell you this because I want you to keep an optic on them, just to make sure they stay on track. The Aerialbots are arrogant little glitches just like I was. They will need someone to remind them of their place every now and then.” As if to prove his point, the five Aerialbots hooted and hollered as they flipped overhelm, diving toward the ground and shooting up at the last possible moment. Pretentious and arrogant indeed.

“I understand. I won’t be soft with them though.” Starscream laughed again, this time with more of the gusto Megatron recalled. Only it lacked the malicious undertone he was used to, a fact that threw Megatron for a loop despite being well aware that Starscream lost most of his aggression vorns upon vorns ago. Megatron just hadn’t been able to see it amidst the cloud of his thoughts. 

“Give them a few beatings. The little glitches will need it once I am gone.” No more words were exchanged between them as Megatron abruptly stood and marched off. Starscream frowned but did not stop him. A hint of regret prodded at his spark, but he paid it no mind. He had no interest in hearing his former Air Commander discuss his death, not when Megatron was not acutely aware that he would likely never be faced with such a prospect.

Not anymore. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Starscream’s prediction was right. Within the next half vorn, the Lord of Vos passed away quietly in his gardens, held aloft by a thin hammock so that he could feel the wind gushing past his wings as his spark, at last, went out. Megatron attended the funeral alongside Soundwave and Optimus. Both his companions offered words of condolence for the loss and offered Windblade their sympathy. Megatron followed in their pedesteps and even went so far as to give Starscream’s grieving widow a few old trinkets he’d kept around from his former Air Commander.

He was unsure if it did anything, but Windblade offered her thanks all the same. Megatron merely felt… nothing. Even deca-cycles afterward, he was void, cold, and unfeeling. He didn’t want to feel. It hurt too much to think about the newest absence in his life. Shockwave was one thing, but Starscream was another. 

He tried not to contemplate the loss of another familiar face or the increasing number of new ones that took Starscream’s place at the odd meeting he attended. Instead, Megatron spent more of his time with those who remained, clinging to Soundwave and oddly enough even Optimus as much as he could. Occasionally he would fly to Vos, and as per Starscream’s final request, beat around the Aerialbots to remind them that they were not in fact as amazing as they thought they were. It was humorous to a degree, but largely sorrowful above all else. The defiant look in the optics of the Aerialbots was far too similar to Starscream for Megatron’s liking. 

He tried to only come to Vos when required, but when he was there, he always made sure to walk past the statue dedicated to Starscream, usually leaving some random piece of jewelry behind as well. He liked to think that a younger Starscream would have been both pleased and offended, and that alone made the effort worth it. 

Then as if to pour acid into the wound, a mere twenty vorns after Starscream’s passing, Soundwave passed away in the comfort of his home, surrounded by his symbiotes. Megatron hated himself for not being there, he despised that he was not made aware of Soundwave’s passing until he returned to his residence and only became concerned due to a lack of messages, resulting in him reaching out to Optimus. His spark screamed in denial, grief, and rage. However, there was nothing he could do aside from bite back tears when Soundwave’s funeral was held and his last will and testament read out. 

Soundwave wanted his frame to be cremated and his ashes turned into gemstones to be given to each of his symbiotes and to Megatron. It was such a small thing, but when the eldest of Soundwave’s symbiotes came to him and offered him a small black jem already within a pendant and ready to be worn… he wept softly and held it close. He didn’t want to believe that Soundwave was gone, not while he remained pristine and not so soon after Starscream. Optimus was his only comfort in the following few vorns. The Prime took up the position Soundwave left in Megatron’s life, and soon enough, Megatron retreated to his hab in the forests and received reports once a deca-cycle.

For a long time, Megatron could not bear to leave his place hidden away in the forests. He warded off wandering mecha who came too close and convinced Optimus to give him the land so that none could intrude and break him from his reverie. He hated the new faces, he hated the new sights. It was so different and always changing on the surface of the world he once called home… and yet he did not change with it. Forever a remnant, a relic of a war that ended millennia earlier. 

He did not weep when he was informed of Knockout’s passing, then of Arcee, Bulkhead, Wheeljack, and countless other names that he recognized as both Autobot and Decepticon in origin. He did not attend their funerals, nor did he visit what remained of his former comrades. No, instead he stayed hidden away, unwilling to deal with it all and instead trying to comfort himself by wearing the pendant made of Soundwave’s ashes. 

He managed to get away with his behavior for roughly a dozen vorns before Optimus seemed to have had enough as the next thing Megatron knew, the Prime was on his doorstep and promptly invited him to visit Iacon. The prospect caused his spark to ache, but the familiarity of the one he once knew to be a foe and long before that a friend…

He couldn’t find it within himself to object, not after seeing the weariness around Optimus’s optics. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

“You are the Master Archivist now? How are you managing such a position alongside being the head of the Council?” The archives were deep and dark, just as they were back when Megatron was still but a gladiator and Optimus not yet a Prime. In the back of his processors, he was nearly certain the archives would have been renovated to match the newest trends, but it seemed Optimus had kept the pre-war aesthetic. It was a comfort despite the mix of good and bad memories that befell him in response.

“I imagine you have not been keeping track of current affairs, but I have not been head of the Council since Ratchet passed. I handled some affairs for them from here, but otherwise, I have focused my efforts on keeping our history preserved.” The Prime walked softly despite his towering frame almost matching Megatron’s. Many of his gaudy outer plating attachments had thinned and his frame overall seemed somewhat weaker, but it was nothing as prominent as the frailty Starscream and Soundwave showed before their deaths. Optimus’s words almost didn’t reach him amidst the storm of it all, but Megatron still found it within himself to feel a degree of shock.

How out of touch was he?

“What of your scout and the rookie you took a liking to? How do they fare?” Megatron asked, partially to try and distract himself but largely to try and get Optimus to speak on something Megatron actually knew. The yellow nuisance and the elite guardsmech rookie were two mecha that Megatron despised for their efforts during the war but also held respect for due to their show of skills. He didn’t care for them, but if they got Optimus talking and discussing subjects that didn’t cause Megatron’s spark to flare in distress and loss, he would take it. 

“They are just fine. Bumblebee has long since risen to the upper echelons of the ranks of Enforcers and Smokescreen has been focused on integrating the Wreckers, DJD, and Elite guard all into one cohesive unit. He’s had limited success so far, but he is trying his best.” The Prime smiled as he led Megatron to the heart of the archive and stood before a console. For a moment, he looked just like Orion Pax, the brother Megatron thought lost to him so long ago. It hurt, it ached. 

“I brought you here because I do not wish to see you suffer alone. This burden you bear is great. As such, if you would allow me, I would be here to help you endure it for as long as I am able.” Optimus reached out and gently grasped his arm, pulling him a little closer so that he could see the screen. On it was an image of him, Orion Pax, Soundwave, and Ratchet before everything went to slag. They were all smiling, save for Soundwave who projected a smiley face on his visor. Tears he had long tried to suppress clouded his optics as he clutched Soundwave’s pendant, unable to hold back any longer. 

“I do not desire death, but I do wish that I would not be left in this state, untouched by time while all I know fades away before me.” His words came out between harsh sobs. Optimus merely held his servo and drew him into a comforting hug, understanding filling his field. Why was it that all he had left was the mech he once hated the most? Why did his companions have to wither while he did not?

“All will be well Megatronus. This reality that plagues you is not one you need to endure alone. I am here, and I will remain until my end draws near.” Optimus’s ominous final statement flew right over Megatron’s helm as he wept and truly felt the grief of all he lost for the first time. His cause, his Decepticons, Shockwave, Starscream, Soundwave, Knockout, and so many others. All of it was gone, and nothing remained save for echoes, shadows, small trinkets, and the odd mention of them in the history books. 

He hated this, but at least he was not alone.

━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

He took comfort in Optimus for many long vorns. The Prime understood him and was the only one who really knew who Megatron was. Often his routine for the following few millennia amounted to retreating to his abode in the forests where little ever changed and going to Iacon a few times a vorn to visit Optimus and teach the sparklings his former foe gave lessons on history to. Surprisingly, the little ones did not fear Megatron when he stood before him. Whatever anger from the war still remained only seemed to linger among the first generation of forged bots who came from the Well. Most war veterans were dead or too old to care, and for that reason, Megatron did not mind teaching at the archives as required.

Time was a blur for him for the most part, a mess of emotion that largely consisted of grief, reminiscing, brief flares of joy, and apathy. Lots of his time was spent in his hab, writing down his experiences, his poetry, and his wisdom. Those things he brought to Optimus who in turn published them under Megatron’s name. He would have preferred he remain anonymous, but the Prime insisted, and Megatron did not have the spark to say no when Optimus was all that remained.

There were moments of joy and comradery, but overall his life was a mess. Optimus helped and proved to be an anchor, but the way of the world meant that when Megatron finally saw, it was too late to do much of anything.

As with his old comrades, Megatron remained unblemished whereas Optimus suddenly grew to be frailer. Optimus was a Prime, the Matrix kept his spark ablaze and youthful, but it did not maintain the vitality of his frame. As such Optimus rather quickly deteriorated. At first, Megatron said nothing. It was not his place to speak on such matters. He assumed that Optimus was merely biding his time, enjoying the familiarity of his frame for as long as possible before going to get a new one, as was customary amongst Primes who lived long.

They were functionally immortal. Why would they not wish to continue on when all it would take was a quick frame change? Megatron understood better than ever why immortality was a curse more than a gift, but despite that, he still could hardly believe his optics when Optimus continued on, never getting a frame change even when he obviously needed it. The Prime’s armor fell off in droves, leaving him thin and emaciated to the point of requiring one of his younger archivists to guide him around. Then his vision began to fail so much that whenever Megatron visited, he often needed to read things out to Optimus if the print was too small. 

Even still, he said nothing for vorns. He was positive Optimus had a reason… up until the Prime tried to go fetch a datapad for Megatron to review only to instead trip, fall, and break his hip in three places. That was the final straw for Megatron. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

“Why won’t you get a fragging frame change?!” Megatron demanded as he marched into Optimus’s office, noting with grief the stabilizer that was now welded onto the Prime’s hip to keep it in place. 

“Because I have no need of it,” Optimus replied simply as if he weren’t using reading glasses and didn’t require three pillows just to sit upright in his chair. Megatron growled in outrage, anger boiling within his core to cover for the fear and sorrow that threatened to break loose. 

“You are falling apart, Orion!” He all but screamed, his fists shaking as he tried to make his point. Optimus merely put down his glasses with a sigh and turned to face him, suddenly looking so much more tired than Megatron remembered. His old foe always had an air of exhaustion around him, even when they were both still young. But the mech before him was wearier, darker, and seemingly so done with it all that even his spark lamented life. 

“I know, and I allow it to be. I am tired Megatronus, I have lived long enough and I want nothing more than to rest with my loved ones in the Allspark.” White hot rage ran through every fuel line and processing unit in Megatron’s frame as he marched forward and grabbed Optimus’s servo, holding it gently despite the way a dark part of him wanted to crush the weakening limb. 

“You want to abandon Cybertron? You archivists? Your position? Do you really want to leave it all behind? Are you truly so selfish as to have me endure this reality alone!?” He wasn’t sure when his tears began to fall, but as his wrathful questions poured from his vocalizer, he knew Optimus had already made up his mind. The Prime met his gaze calmly and squeezed his servo in that fond manner only Orion did back before the war.

“I take no joy in this, but I wish to make this singular choice for myself. I want to rest.” Sorrow, rage, denial, and so much more drowned out all logical thought as Megatron tore his servo away and fumed. Memories of the High Council and Orion’s ascension to the rank of Prime plagued him as he marched off, saying only one final thing before he left the archives for what was going to be a very long time.

“FINE THEN! FRAG OFF AND DIE FOR ALL I CARE, PAX!” He slammed the archive doors behind him and took to the skies in a rage, unwilling to heed the messages Optimus sent to him. He couldn’t handle them, not right now. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Megatron retreated back to his hab and fervently refused to so much as look at any messages from Optimus for vorns on end. He didn't want to hear it. He didn’t want to listen to Optimus’s slagging reasoning for essentially offing himself.  The Prime was a selfish fragger and always had been. He could be the one to wait until Megatron was good and ready to come back, at least, that was Megatron’s thought process as he fumed. 

Optimus wanted to leave him alone. The Prime was the only other living mech who could essentially go on living forever just like Megatron. Why did he have to decide to abandon him? Why did that hurt so much? Why couldn’t Megatron move on already?

Thoughts plagued him, his anger simmered into remorse, and by the time Optimus contacted him again after a lull of a whole three vorns… he, at last, returned to Iacon. 

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“Orion…” His voice echoed in the near-silent room. The only other sound was the tortured venting of the mech before him. Optimus Prime lay on a simple berth in a small hospital room. There was a pile of audio recordings beside him that he had evidently listened to quite frequently if the marks all over them were any indicator. But aside from that, the most notable and startling part of the situation was just how far Optimus had fallen.

He was stick thin, even slimmer than Soundwave was before his death. His plating was all but gone and his limbs were so frail that Megatron doubted the Prime could raise his arm for more than a half klik at most. Despite that, he seemed content as his dull and useless optics remained uncycled while still managing to look in Megatron’s general direction.

“You came…” Optimus murmured, his voice so gravelly and filled with static that it was hard to hear at all. Megatron moved to his ailing companion’s side and gently took the servo that reached out for him. This time he held no anger in his spark, and instead he felt nothing but regret. Vorns he could have spent enjoying the closeness of a former foe and friend were lost because of his bitterness, and now all he had was a few short kliks at best. 

“I did. I’m here Orion.” A weak smile met his words and never more did Megatron wish he was capable of aging. He wanted to have been able to age alongside his fellows, to banter about the woes of growing older, and to have the slagging peace that all of his fallen fellows seemed to have right before the end. 

“Thank you… for coming… one last… time.” Optimus’s optics flickered and his field crumpled. He was out of time. 

“Sire, rest easy, we will take care of things.” Bumblebee came forward from wherever he was previously loitering in the room and took up Optimus’s other servo. The former scout was aged as well, but it did not show with how kindly he cradled the dying Prime’s servo in his own. Megatron did not even bother trying to fight back tears as Optimus continued to smile so hopefully as if he were but a youngling again, just so pleased to be with those he loved.

“I know… you will both… endure… I know… that one cycle… we will… meet… again.” Optimus’s voice started to fade and Bumblebee began to sob. Megatron held himself upright, wishing he could spill out the millions of apologies that he had rehearsed during his trip to Iacon but knowing he had no more time to utter them. Optimus was fading, and if he could hear the words Megatron wished to speak, he would not have the chance to respond.

There would be no comfort from his dear old friend, and so all Megatron could do was listen and obey. 

“One day… an Autobot shall rise… from our ranks… and use the… power of the Matrix… to light… our darkest… hour.” The Matrix pulsed, its light shining through Optimus’s thinned armor and causing his optics to glow.

“Until that day… till all… are… one…” And just like that, Optimus’s frame went still, his venting ceasing and his spark chamber opening so that the light of the Matrix could bathe the room. Megatron did not stay. He carefully allowed Optimus’s lifeless servo to rest at his side and allowed Bumblebee to do whatever he wanted with the slagging relic as he stepped outside and flew back to his hab in the forest.

He did not care to linger, and as soon as he was home and the door firmly shut, he collapsed against the wall, weeping and clutching Soundwave’s pendant as if his life depended on it. 

“Forgive me Orion… forgive me….” 

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Megatron stopped bothering to keep track of time at all after Optimus’s passing. He stopped writing, he stopped doing much of anything. He left his hab with only Soundwave’s pendant and a datapad Optimus gave him vorns prior to read from. Once he had those two items, he merely… wandered. 

He contemplated ending his life by blaster or blade, but he found that reprehensible considering how pathetic it was compared to his comrades who died content and with honor. And yet he also had no desire to really continue living. As such Megatron fell to marching on, wandering the forests, seeing the sights of Cybertron, and avoiding cities like the plague. On the off chance he met another mech, he was quick to fly away. 

Loneliness ate at him, but he disregarded it. He could have left Cybertron and fled back to the stars, but he couldn’t bring himself to. That felt… disrespectful in an odd way, especially after all his comrades did to care for the world he walked. A strange sense of duty kept him firmly planted, and the rational part of his processors explained it away as him keeping his promise to Starscream. He was, by continuing to be present, ensuring that if things really needed to be looked at, he could come to handle the issue. 

At least that was what he told himself as cycles bled into one another and countless deca-cycles were spent laying flat on the ground staring up, unmoving and uncaring of the world around him. 

He wanted to be left alone to wallow, and for what could have been but a handful of vorns of countless millennia, he was allowed to do just that. But of course, Optimus’s final words had a way of following him, and eventually, he was greeted by a new and old face while resting along the edges of the Rust Sea. 

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“You’re Megatron, right? Megatron of Kaon? Lord of the Decepticons, the great and mighty slag maker, the Herald of the Unmaker, and Champion of the pits? Do any of those ring any bells?” A young mech, one likely not older than perhaps millennia, stood above where Megatron lay on the ground uselessly. He sat up quickly and waved a servo dismissively, agitation blooming in his spark as he moved to gather his datapad and leave. But that didn’t seem to be enough for the pesky thing to leave him alone as quickly the orange, gold, and red youngling stood in front of him, stopping his path.

“Got any time to spare for an adventure?” The youngling asked with a big smile that seemed slightly unnatural to Megatron. He grunted and tried to sidestep before Bumblebee of all mecha hit his leg with a cane the former scout had evidently acquired. 

“Been looking for you for quite some time Megatron. We have a situation on our servos that requires somebody with actual experience to deal with.” The yellow scout scowled as he glared at the youngling who sheepishly whistled, seemingly uncaring of whatever distress he was causing. 

“Something’s gone wrong with Cybertron’s core. The Well is turning up empty with less and less sparklings every vorn. We found some of Optimus’s old texts talking about the ‘Knights of Cybertron’ and we could use your assistance hunting them down.” Surprise was quick to override agitation at the mention of the fallen Prime. Megatron stopped trying to get away as Bumblebee tried to speak only to be interrupted by the youngling before him.

“Bee’s got it mostly summed up! My designation is Rodimus Prime! Just got the Matrix, not all that long ago and I’ve already got a crew ready to go and find these Knights!” A Prime? Megatron could feel his brow raising in cautious curiosity as he looked the mech over. He didn’t at all match any prior Prime Megatron knew of, but then again, it was a time of peace. Odd things happened during peace just as they did while at war. 

“According to Bee, you’ve just been wandering around for the past few millennia since you can’t die. So what do you say? Want to go on an adventure and shake things up? I’ve got stickers!” The stupidity was astounding, and yet Megatron found himself compelled. It had been so long since he’d really attempted to connect with anyone, and quite frankly, Cybertron held too many painful memories to continue hanging around. He kept his promise to Soundwave and Starscream as much as he was able. 

Maybe it would do him some good to leave for a while. If nothing else, he might find someone out there to kill him in an honorable fashion.

“Only if I can be co-captain of this expedition.” He settled on a compromise, not fully trusting the so-called Prime before him. Rodimus seemed only partially let down before he gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up and grabbed Megatron’s arm. 

“Then let’s get going! Cybertron won’t save itself!” Rodimus smiled, Bumblebee grumbled, and Megatron sighed. Whatever was going to happen, at least he wouldn’t be alone.