Archive of Our Own ^beta

Even in shadow, the stars bear witness.

Megatron only ever beheld one star in her lifetime, yet it had once been the light that shone in the deepest darkness. It was a hope that she supposed was never meant for her, a flame that she drew too close to. Though, it was not entirely her fault. For even though stars were meant to be beyond the grasp of every mortal, the star she loved had reached back in all its glorious blaze.

And she had held on for as long as she could.

Yet, stars are beings of pure light.

And no matter how beautiful they may appear, light will always burn.

Yet Megatron had always been stubborn, and she supposed, so too was the star that had pulled her into its orbit.

Yes, it burned, and scorched, and left its mark.

But the star was hers, just as it belonged to her, she belonged to its encompassing light.

Even if it had taken a millenia of tears and blood and death, it was always inevitable that they would find their way towards one another.

As long as the stars shine through the eternal night, so too would their love.

—

The beginning of their end came from fleeting glimpses, yet who knew such small gestures would seal their fate?

Megatron knew she had been made for one purpose. As the Lord High Protector, she was forged with a duty to Cybertron and its people. A mere weapon designed to lay down her spark for the good of those she had been made to protect.

The Prime was to be the sword, the servo that delivered the battle against those who dared to harm them and the voice that was meant to assure their people of a better future to come.

Yet before she had been officially crowned with the title, she was merely Megatron.

And before Optimus was bestowed his duty, he was merely Orion Pax.

Their first meeting was swift and easily forgotten in the haze of the court. It was a quick glance, barely anything in the grand scheme of it all. Orion had been by Sentinel Prime's side, discontent at the dullness of the grand party that was held in the Prime Court, when their optics had met from across the crowded room.

Megatron had been told to stand guard, to ensure nothing could possibly go awry.

She had been indifferent to the younger Prime's gaze, her white optics meeting his with not much anticipation aside from the respect she had been taught to owe him. Her processor was occupied with the duty given to her as was her birthright, and the momentary meeting of their optics hardly retained in her memory banks.

Yet for the young Prime, that brief moment was the flicker that lighted the flame. It would be wrong to call it 'love at first sight' but in that moment, it was all he could do not to make his way towards her immediately.

Despite what one may believe, his interest did not come from mere appearance. Though her unique white optics had drawn him towards her, Orion had heard stories of Megatron from Sentinel Prime in the past. He had never cared for the responsibilities that awaited him, nor had he truly even listened when he had been told of his Lord High Protector, yet he had known from a mere glance that the mech across the room was meant to be his.

Duty would bind them together, yet Orion had hoped that those white optics would look upon him with much more.

As it was, he could not go to her at the time, and so that momentary glance shared was one that would tide him until the moment that they could be allowed to meet. Orion was not a patient mech, but he knew there was no point in rushing his mentor to introduce them to one another.

Sentinel Prime could be difficult when he wanted to be. He was already irritated by Orion's lack of interest towards his Primely duties, but he couldn't help but wonder if his mentor would be more inclined to listen if he expressed actual interest.

With a glance towards the mech that would be his Lord High Protector, Orion decided then and there he needed to know her.

Megatron never glanced at the young Prime again during the duration of the party, yet if she had, she would have seen the way he continued to glance at her. Until at last, his resolve broke and he moved towards his mentor with purpose.

Even in the past, she was focused on the people she had been told was underneath her protection, the weight of a crown not yet on her helm… but there all the same.

She did notice the way the young Prime had begun to speak, his gestures controlled yet clearly directed towards her.

If she had, maybe she would have ran.

If she had known the future to come, perhaps she would have cursed him there.

Bound as they were from the moment they were both forged, maybe it would have all been for the better that they had never met at all.

Orion was a star, and she had been caught in his orbit.

It would have been best to have run away, to have never met what had burnt her so.

But all great romances and all great tragedies begin with the inevitable. Megatron could not have known her fate, and Optimus - though he was not yet Prime - could not have known the weight of his actions.

But in truth, neither of them are entirely helpless to the call of destiny.

If you were to ask both, now in the distant future, if they could all over again… would they have kept away from each other?

And the answer, despite the years and the bloodshed, would be just the same.

Never.

As it was witnessed by starlight, so it shall be.

—

"This is unbecoming."

"Yet here you are."

Under the cover of the lunar cycle, they had both snuck away from their habsuites as was their custom when either of them demanded the other. Optimus had returned from another excursion on another star system, and though Megatron had half the processor to lecture him for abandoning her to his duties, she was mostly glad that he was home again. She had missed the warmth of his frame, the fleeting touches and gazes they would exchange when they knew Sentinel Prime was not looking.

Mostly, she had missed his presence beside her.

They were in the Prime gardens, a project of a Prime long since gone. She supposed there was history to the area, though that was not a lesson she ought to concern herself with. Optimus probably knew which Prime had commissioned the crystal gardens that was considered the crown jewel of the Primal Palace, but she need not ask him at that moment.

There would be other solar cycles where she could perhaps draw the answer from him.

Instead, she focused on the way the light of Cybertron's two moons reflected off the crystal flowers that grew everywhere in abundance.

On their own, the flowers held no color. They were pale delicate things whose only purpose really was to decorate the grandeur of the palace, yet even in their beauty they still found themselves in the shadows of the grand spires of the castle that rose above the city of Iacon and overlooked all of Cybertron. Though it was Optimus who probably knew the origins of the garden, it was Megatron who considered this part of their home her sanctuary.

She had passed many solar cycles in the accompaniment of the flowers, sparring entirely on her lonesome… until Optimus came.

He was like the moonlight that caresssed the crystalline petals of the flowers. On their own, they did not shine, but under the light, the garden was bathed in a kailedescope of color. Megatron found the sight to be beautiful, how the haze of the crystal white garden was suddenly blessed with the radiance of every color possible. It was a sight that she loved, and it reminded her of Optimus.

Yet, deep down, she still found the simple nature of the crystal flowers to be her favorite. Even without the light, they still had their own beauty to share.

"Sentinel Prime did not trouble you?" He was stalling, Megatron knew Optimus was quite eager to hold her again, yet she was glad for his restraint. In truth, his continued absence had begun to dwindle on her cabling, but her affection for him remained resolute. Sentinel Prime himself had assured her that Optimus did have intentions of taking responsibility as Prime eventually, that he ought to be allowed his excursions for he was young and so ought to burn out the energy of his youth.

"I do my duties." Megatron answered, "I take great pleasure in them, as you know."

"Truly?"

There was a teasing tone in his voice, yet she sensed there was an actual question behind it. She did not have time to think as she found his servo against her pauldron, and in the stillness of the lunar cycle, she could hear the sounds of his fans even against the chiming of the crystal flowers.

Megatron tilted her helm back and laughed, flashing him her own grin, dentae bared as if to challenge him.

"I do. I find my responsibilities to be the greatest pleasure of my life." She moved away from his grasp, daring him further.

As usual, he did not disappoint.

With the soft roar of his engines, he was immediately upon her, the delicate petals of the flowers flitting up into the air as they both tumbled to the ground. It ought to have been terrifying. At any moment, Sentinel Prime himself may gaze out from one of the palace's many balconies and spot their treachery. Yet Megatron knew how well-protected from wandering optics the garden was. The crystal trees, with their leaves of metal and silver, blocked out their presence entirely. If anyone gazed, they would only appear as mere and inconsequential shadows.

"So eager." She purred, teasingly trying to escape his grasp even as his servos tried to reach for every crevice in her armor. Between the two of them, Megatron was bigger. Yet she relished in the power that he had over her, the way he could handle her and was not afraid that she may break him. "Did you truly miss me while you were gone on your little expedition, my Prime?"

"Every klik without you was unbearable." He muttered, and without another word, he was plunging into her neck cables with his intake - harshly biting down against sensitive cabling.

She in turn was not so lost in the throes of passion as to let him take all the lead. As soon as his dentae left her frame, she lunged forward so that her intake connected against his. Their kiss was almost like a battle, and she could feel him try to push her deeper against the ground, could feel the low growl emerging from his voice box as they nipped at one another like ravenous cyberbeasts.

Oh, she missed him.

Then at some point, she felt his glossa against her own and they tangled in a fight for dominance.

She could her frame begin to build charge, the deep want in her spark sending her coding into overdrive as her HUD began to display access codes to her modesty panel. In the haze of their passion, the intermingling of their frames among the crystal flowers and within their suffocating EM fields, she found herself managing to unlock the accessibility.

There was a soft hiss and a click as her panel bloomed open. She could hear from above as Optimus let out a more guttaral rumble, and this time he really was trying to keep her pinned to the ground.

She could not blame him, as she pushed back, enjoying the battle as much as she did the interface. There was no other mech who had ever been willing to challenge her in such a way.

Only Optimus, who did not fear the damage she may inflict on him or the damage he may inflict on her, was ever enough to keep her satiated.

Eventually, they tore apart from one another, cycling in air from the cold night. Megatron had barely been given a klik to recuperate when she felt familiar blunt digits begin to press at her valve opening.

She was used to the minor pain that accompanied the penetration. It had been quite a while since their last coupling, and as much as Megatron derived pleasure from it, she did not have the time to indulge in such acts when Optimus was gone. The weight of their world was fully on her shoulders, and though she may be the Lord High Protector, with Optimus gone she also resumed the role of a Prime.

There was a momentary bitterness at the thought, but it was quickly lost when she felt his digits begin to brush at her internal nodes.

She leaned back, trusting him as he worked her open in the way they were both accustomed to. There was only a slight difference, his optics - which were usually so full of eagerness - were trained almost elsewhere. Even as he begin to thrust two digits inside, it was as though he was seeing beyond her.

Megatron would have called him out of it if she wasn't entirely enjoying herself. She ought to have asked what was distracting him, but at the moment, she was merely glad to feel his warmth against hers after what had been such a long time.

All thoughts of trying to talk were gone the moment he leaned back down to kiss her. This time, there was no battle. Instead, he kissed her like he truly wanted the moment to last, as though they were cycling air through one another without any end in sight.

Megatron let out a soft moan as he brushed against the deeper parts of her valve. It was maddening how he always took his time to prepare her when quite honestly she just wanted him inside already. She lifted one of her leg struts, beginning to set the pace for herself.

It took a moment before he realized what she was doing, and she grinned at his betrayed face as he pulled away from the kiss. Then, his servo was on her neck cables as he pulled his digits away from her valve. Megatron snarled at him, though with no intent of ill will.

She liked provoking him.

Optimus enjoyed setting the pace, even though he trusted her and his own strength, he liked to relish the moment instead of understanding the limitations of their time together.

They weren't supposed to with one another.

It wasn't a part of their duties.

Yet, they found themselves in the other's embrace even if they knew it could not last.

Well, Megatron knew.

She was entirely unsure of how Optimus felt.

Yet she supposed that was just like him, to take his time even when all they had would be a fleeting memory.

"Megatron…" His voice was full of warning, and instead of using his digits to pry her open, he placed his servo on her chassis instead.

"You take too long, Optimus." Megatron laughed, not unkindly, even as she pointed out the frailty of their time. "We must make this quick, my Prime."

"Allow me to relish this." Optimus almost sounded apologetic, and Megatron knew deep within herself why. She felt a rise of anger in her spark, but it was quickly forgotten the moment she felt his digits brush against her external node.

She closed her optics, resigning herself to confront him in the solar cycle.

Assuming he was still on the planet once the sun had risen once again.

Instead, she focused all her processing capability towards the building charge inside of her frame, the stretch of his digits as they entered her once again and began to scrape so deeply.

Aside from the rumbling of their engines, she could begin to hear the squelch of lubrication as ozone permeated the air. Optimus had leaned down, his intake nibbling at her chassis which sent rivulets of energy throughout her frame and within her spark. He was hot against her, his frame nearly sending her into overload at just the thought of it bearing down more of its weight against her.

She jolted as he surged forward, digits tapping against the seal of her gestation tank.

A loud keen nearly escaped her if she hadn't quickly bite the bottom of her dermas.

"You…" Optimus vented out, steam coming from his frame as he continued to press against the seal. "Have a lot of charge."

"Stop… ngh… talking." Megatron groaned, as she waited for Optimus to stop dragging his digits. She wanted him inside, to feel the familiar warmth of his spike engulfed in her valve as it threatened to breach through her gestation tank.

During some lunar cycles, she wanted him to never stop until he was fully seated inside her, the knot at the end of his spike locking against her calipers as he loaded deep within. It was impossible, but she wanted his sparklings, wanted him to choose her.

Yet that couldn't be. While she was the Lord High Protector, and one of her duties was to follow her Prime, this was a desire that would surely be forbidden. Lord High Protectors were not meant for such responsibilities. Not when their frame belonged to Cybertron and to its people.

What use was a Lord High Protector who could not sacrifice themselves at any single moment?

She threw these thoughts violently to the back of her processor, trying to lose herself to the sensation.

Then, all at once, she finally began to feel her charge begin to drop. Her legs stretched open to allow Optimus further access as his digits continued to pump into her.

She closed her optics, the overwhelming euphoria of their EM fields intermingling that she could feel her vents begin to struggle to take in more air. Her frame grew hotter and hotter, and just as she felt her charge about to unleash—

Optimus moved his digits away.

Her optics snapped open, intake widening to exclaim her outrage at the betrayal only for Optimus to put a servo to her dermas. She ought to have bitten him, but she noticed how his finials had straightened as he looked over to the distance.

Megatron reluctantly tore her gaze away from him as she assessed with clarity their present situation. Though the garden was bathed only by moonlight and the shadows hid them from being quickly discovered, she realized that there was another mech wandering by the entrance.

She need not wonder who it may be.

Only one mech could possibly enter the gardens at such a late joor.

Sentinel Prime.

Megatron moved quickly away, though she wanted to hold onto the warmth of her Prime even as she did so. Optimus had ceased looking at her, his optics trained on the older Prime who, for what reason, had decided to take a stroll through the garden.

They need not exchange words. As their gazes met again, Optimus pressed a single digit to his dermas. He noticed her reaction, and quickly wiped the trace of her away on his pauldron. Then, glancing down at his stained digits, he wiped it away against a crystal flower.

"I love you."

She uttered it, despite herself.

He stood up and gave her a smile. With one last glance, he quickly disappeared from her side. She stayed where she was, assured that the grayness of her frame would lend her the ability to be unseen among the colorless crystal flowers. After a few kliks, the shadow of the older Prime was accompanied by Optimus, and the two of them stood there as though in conversation.

From where she was, Megatron could only see the smallest of movements from the both of them. Optimus was a mech of action, and she knew from the stilted way that his silhouette held itself that he was agitated by what the older Prime must be lecturing him about. Megatron was not surprised, as the two had begun to get into a series of squabbles ever since Optimus kept running away to his adventures.

Sentinel Prime was a mech difficult to please.

Yet, as she continued to watch the two of them, she noted how resigned the older Prime was and eventually he merely shook his helm before gesturing for Optimus to leave the garden with him. For all his strictness in the way he ensured every mech bent to his will, Sentinel Prime allowed Optimus to do what he pleased - even if he was heavily against it.

The sight of it made Megatron feel a burst of envy, but she buried it deep inside. It was already an honor to be chosen as the Lord High Protector, and it was her duty as the shield to be a pillar of strength… even though the Prime was meant to be the bastion of power that every Cybertronian looked up to.

If Optimus faltered, Megatron needed to pick up the pieces. It was a thankless work, yet had she not wanted this? Had she not chosen to be the protector that the people and the planet would need regardless of whether they looked upon her with admiration or not?

These were troubling thoughts, ones she found to be repeating in her processor like a broken code. She ought to tell Optimus, allow him to soothe the edges of herself that she had begun to accumulate since his continued absence. They barely had the time for one another.

Even now, when she thought she could finally have him for the lunar cycle, he had left her wanting and on the edge of an overload that was clearly not to come.

Yet, as she watched the two shadows disappear into the palace, she decided to wait for a joor for him to come back. There were times in the past where Megatron would quickly disappear before Optimus could formally part with her and he would spend the next solar cycle pouting as if she had wounded him severely. It had been rather adorable and Megatron couldn't help but smile at the memory of the past, when their work was simpler.

When she was merely a Lord High Protector in training and Optimus had not yet been granted the official title of Prime.

It was cold without him, and the night would have been lonely if it were not for the chiming of the crystal flowers that kept her company. Megatron sat there on the ground, curling up to preserve the remnants of the warmth he had left behind, trying to remember the last time they had truly been together.

As she waited, her gaze flicked towards the crystal flower that he had wiped his digits against. When he had been younger and less graceful, he would at times mock her by licking her essence off his digits. She would swat him for the behavior, but she found she missed how teasing he could be, how he savored her instead of being torn away by other obligations.

But… she understood.

She had her duties.

And Optimus had his hobbies he wanted to indulge in before he took the throne.

She waited for him…

She waited until the sun rose.

Only when she began to feel the warmth of a new solar cycle did she rise from where she had stayed and made her way back to the palace.

She was informed by Sentinel later that Optimus had left again for another star system and would not be back for quite some time.

—

It was only at the coming of Cybertron's two moons that Megatron allowed herself to weep for what she had chosen to leave behind. Yet do not be so impertinent as to believe she cried out of sorrow and regret, yet rather the tears were the culmination of the rage that still coursed through her very code and rendered the internal cabling of her frame to spark with the very indignity that had been bestowed upon her. Truly, there were many mechs to blame for the low state she found herself to be in, but mostly, she blamed the Prime.

Promises of the night were never to be accepted as true. A lesson she had to learn the hard way. Orion may have been the star that shone a light upon her life, but now she remembered what stars were made of. He may have "loved" her, but he would sooner burn her to keep himself alive than to ever let her live within his orbit. At another time, she may have been merely content to be by his side. But that had been the foolish whims of a mech who believed in the grandeur of a liar's silver glossa.

She knew she could not weep forever, and why ought she?

She was a fool to believe that they would have lasted. Even if he had cared for duty, that very responsibility would have torn them apart. He may have "loved" her, but there was no respect, no true feeling of compassion or empathy. Even now, shrouded as she was in the darkness of the lunar cycle, his words still echoed in her mind.

He had a good spark, that she knew, but it was not a kindness afforded to a mech like her - a mere weapon at his disposal.

She had to wonder if that was all he ever saw of her, a mere trinket to amuse himself. He had no sense of what it meant to be a Prime, yet he satisfied himself in all that title afforded him. He would rather be off in some distant planet than take up his mantle. Megatron was Prime in all but name at this point.

The anger began to fade away as righteous fury overtook her spark, and she wiped the remains of her tears against the back of her servo as she arose from the rock she sat upon.

If she was forged to be a weapon, then a weapon she ought to be.

Yet never again will she let anyone else wield her. She was a weapon of her own design and of her own will.

Already there were dissenters to the Primacy, mechs not pleased with the way the Primes have ruled.

She ought to have slain them in the past.

Now, she'll demand they pledge their loyalty to her.

If the Prime refused to take his throne, then she will helpfully relinquish it for him.

This, she vowed to the stars that lit her way home.

—

"No."

"I do not understand."

He had cornered her in an isolated part of the ship. Since his arrival through Quintessa's whim, Optimus - or Nemesis, as Megatron had begun to call this version of him - had been a nuisance to her side. While he was mostly deployed to finding the staff and executing the necessary missions that Quintessa asked of him, Nemesis chose to spend his free time pestering Megatron who unfortunately spent most of her time on the ship.

The other mech was relentless, chasing her to every nook and cranny of the ship as if he couldn't take the snarls she threw his way as a hint that she wanted nothing to do with him.

It was unfortunate that Quintessa was gone from the ship at this very moment, the absence of their… benefactor… having emboldened Nemesis to trap her in one of the empty rooms. She leaned against the wall, growling as he made another step towards her. She could her weapon system at the ready, the anticipation of a fight sending sparks throughout her frame as she waited for him to lunge.

"You look upon me as though you hate me." Nemesis spoke again, and Megatron resisted the urge to laugh.

Hate hardly encompassed all that she felt for this mech.

Even now, despite the new frame, she could feel the sting of his sword against her. How carelessly he had killed her.

She had forgiven them first death, for he had not been the culprit of her demise.

She had hoped he had mourned for her, but with how easily he had killed her with his own servos, then she knew whatever affection he must have had for her had already faded away.

Maybe they never existed at all.

"You are nothing to me, Prime." She delighted in the way his optics grew dull with pain, the way his frame had tensed as if she had stabbed him in the spark. "All I ask is that you and I rebuild our world together, but you will not be my Prime and I will not be your weapon."

No longer would anyone be allowed to wield her.

Especially not him.

"Megatron, my love, I do not understand what this is about." He moved closer, and she could feel the thrum of his EM field press against hers, trying to penetrate deep into her core as if he wanted to pry open her very spark chamber and see for himself why she was rejecting him. "What have I done to upset you? This planet… it is not home, is that why you are so agitated?"

"You understand nothing, Prime. As is your way." Megatron couldn't help but snap back. This version had the face of her enemy, and yet he also held the spark of the mech she used to love. She knew deep down he must be confused. Underneath the control of Quintessa, the Prime that had sought to abandon her, his planet, and his own people, was buried deep down.

And in his place was the version that had once adored her.

If he ever did adore her.

"Megatron, please."

She had not realized how close he had moved until at last the warmth of his frame pressed against her own. He stood in front of her, and there was no malice in his optics. One servo was pressed against the wall by her helm, and the other lingered above her chassis as if he was afraid to touch her.

He ought to be afraid.

Then, without warning, he pressed his face to her chassis and Megatron wanted to tear his helm off, make him feel a quarter of the pain she had felt when she had died by his servos.

Yet…

He buried himself against her, his other servo lowering until she felt it clinging to the plating of her waist. Megatron stood still, vents seemingly clogged as she waited for him.

"You blame me for a crime I cannot remember committing. I see the pain and hate in your optics but I cannot understand." There was a vulnerability to his voice, a softness she had not heard in a millenia. "I do not understand why you no longer love me. When I awoke to this strange place and was told of the fate of our planet, I mourned you. I was scared that you were gone… lost with our home and our people."

His face remained hidden, yet his servos both moved to embrace her. There was a devious hint of possessiveness in the way his arms encircled her waist, a tenseness that she did not remember him ever having.

Megatron relished the feeling of being wanted so desperately.

"Yet you were alive, and I wanted to hold you, to touch you, to hear you… but you looked upon me as if you did not know me. You looked at me as if I was nothing." She wondered if he would have wept for her if he wasn't so busy trying to merge their frames together by how tightly he held onto her. "You are mine. I do not understand why you look at me this way. You are mine."

When he pulled away, the red of his optics reminded her that this was not any version of the Optimus she knew. This was a mech whose personality had been so altered so that his whole purpose was to ensure the continuation of their species.

He only clung to her because of compatability.

Nothing more.

But…

Megatron would take what she can get.

"I am not yours." Megatron uttered with conviction, and a snarl answered her back as Nemesis' servos dug into her frame. She hid the wince that threatened to appear on her dermas as she leaned forward towards his audials. "Not yet, at least."

Nemesis was a creature of instinct.

And Megatron would indulge in that pleasure.

Megatron grinned, "Prove it."

She leaned into his hold, "Prove that I am yours."

As though that were permission enough, Nemesis surged forward.

It was not a kiss.

He was barbaric as he bit and sucked at her dermas, the back of her frame slamming against the wall as his servos scrambled to find purchase on her leg struts. Megatron was surprised at the eagerness he displayed, especially when he quickly hiked her up against the wall and began to gnaw at her chassis.

She gasped, servos gripping the top of his helm, unsure if she ought to push him away or keep him close against her. He was relentless as his dentae left mark after mark against the metal of her frame. She could feel parts of her chassis begin to dent from his rough ministrations.

Megatron flung her helm back, allowing herself to be as loud as she possibly could.

It did not matter if Quintessa herself walked in on them in the midst of coupling.

Was this not the plan?

To rebuild their world…

Megatron felt her spark freeze for a moment, yet it was not enough to stop her modesty panel from opening. She could feel the warmth of his frame rut against her, and though her fear of what was to come began to mount, she tried not to show it as she enjoyed the sensation of Nemesis against her. It had been a long time since she had allowed anyone else to touch her, and as frenzied as his movements were, Nemesis was beginning to quickly build charge in her frame.

She clung to his finials, her optics closing as oral lubricant began to escape the edges of her dermas. She had almost lost herself to the haze before she felt it.

The blunt spike against her opening.

She was momentarily snapped out of the moment again as, without another moment's delay, Nemesis thrusted inside her.

She screamed, optics blowing wide open to accomodate the sheer size of him. Her voice box let out static, and she felt his finials dent in her grasp as she tightened her hold on him. Lubricant had helped him quickly enter her, but the sheer abruptness of it had startled her into clarity.

The Optimus she knew took his time, even if it left her wanting most of the time, and while she enjoyed how roughly Nemesis handled her… it was only a reminder that he was a poor substitution for the mech she truly wanted.

He did not wait for her to adjust, his spike slipping out before quickly slammed back inside her. She let out a soft moan, valve cycling as the spike continued to pierce right through her over and over again. She could feel it move deeper inside her, the angle of their position making it easier for him to hike her up and penetrate deep into her mesh.

Megatron let him handle her, her frame going nearly limp as he began to use her right there against the wall. She buried her face onto his shoulder plating.

It was only then that she realized that he was whispering. At first, she thought he was babbling nonsense, the kind that was said in the heat of the moment, only to be forgotten about once the next solar cycle began.

Yet as she felt him continue to go deeper, she realized that it was almost like he was uttering vows.

"You are mine. You are mine. You are mine…"

It was the same phrase over and over again, and though there had been a thrill to the idea of Optimus wanting her so badly, she knew deep down he would never dare utter such words.

Not even the apology that Nemesis had declared a few breems prior were to be trusted. The Optimus she knew would not have meant a single word.

He knew not how to apologize.

He knew not how to even comfort in her darkest moment.

Still, for a moment, as she felt her charge increased and her first overload took over her sensibilities, she considered that Nemesis was Optimus.

At least an Optimus who loved her.

She felt wetness trickle down her valve, and heard the splatter of it against the ground below as Nemesis pulled out.

It felt almost shameful at how quickly she had fallen for this, knowing that this was merely a poor imitation of the mech she knew. Yet she found herself unable to care as the mech below began to thrust inside her once more. This time, she leaned away from him and pressed her back once more against the wall. She allowed herself a moment of reprieve, even as she could feel him almost nearly thrusting into her with so much force that he threatened to nearly break the wall behind her.

"You are beautiful." He was whispering still, his word almost lost to hear her audials if it were not for the fact that the rest of the room was silent. She bit back her groans, wondering how he could be so composed when he ought to have been deriving pleasure from this act. Though… was she truly surprised at his current state knowing she knew? "A perfect carrier."

He had leaned forward as if to chase her, and she allowed his dermas to meet hers. This time the kiss was practically chaste, soft as though to contrast the harsh blows that was beginning to build up her charge again.

For a moment, she could almost pretend it was him.

Yet, Nemesis was frenzied, his sole purpose to do what was necessary to ensure the survival of Cybertron. When she had been younger, she had wanted Optimus to be more responsible - to prioritize their people and their planet instead of gallivanting off to the edges of the universe as was his whim. She still wanted him to care for Cybertron and the remains of what they had left instead of this rustball of a planet and the pests that called it home.

Nemesis was that wish come true, and yet…

And yet…

So lost in thought, she had barely any time to realize that Nemesis' pace had begun to to falter, and it took all her focus to quickly access her HUD controls before a mistake could be made.

He felt her deep inside her, his transfluid filling her as he sent her into another overload. She let out a soft groan, feeling the indents of his digits against her upper leg struts as he poured forth all he could give to her. Then, with the slightest care he could afford to her, he placed her back down on the ground.

She could feel his essence dripping from between her valve lips and he gazed down at the puddle forming beneath her with slight dissatisfaction. His servo snaked its way back to between her leg struts, a digit scraping at the sides of her modesty panel before she finally conceded to his wishes. She manually closed her panel, hearing the click of it against the awkward silence that had enveloped the room.

Well… it was awkward for her, standing next to the shadow of a mech she once loved who started only at her with the adoration that she supposed had been coded into him to have. She knew deep down, somewhere underneath Quintessa's control, that this was Optimus. Perhaps Nemesis was even all his best attributes combined… or the attributes that Quintessa thought Megatron wanted to see.

Their gaze met and Nemesis let out a soft croon, his arms shaking around her again as he pressed close to hold her. She let herself have this reprieve, feeling the familiar warmth of his frame against hers. If she closed her optics, she could even pretend for a few kliks that they were together in the crystal garden once again.

When Optimus once loved her.

There wasn't any place on the ship for rest, yet she felt him direct her towards the far corner of the room they had just debased. It was a far cry from the softness of their youth as he lowered them both against the cold metal surface of the ship floor, their frames providing the only source of heat for one another. She curled up beside him, her helm resting against his shoulder plating.

It reminded her far too much of the youth they once had. Though they kept to the shadows and their relationship had been nothing but a secret, she enjoyed the small moments.

She missed when he used to love her.

When she felt she deserved that love.

Still, she wondered deep down if he ever loved her at all if he was so willing to leave her time and time again.

Nemesis let out a contented rumble, pressing himself close to her side, the pain of her hatred gone from his mind as he thought he had triumphed over her and had reaped the award of his trials.

She let him think that.

She let out a soft vent, closing her optics for the lunar cycle as she resigned herself to falling asleep by his side. Come the morning, there would undoubtedly be a new mission, for either him or Megatron to commit themselves to.

A long time ago, she hated how he would leave her wanting even before the sun had risen.

Now… all she wanted was for Quintessa to return and assign them far away from one another so that she may avoid his gaze. This wasn't the Optimus she wanted. This version may want to uphold Cybertron and its people, but this was not the Optimus she knew nor had left a long time ago.

The Optimus she knew was a stubborn mech who at times never considered his responsibilities or the people under his care… but he was also a loving mech who, perhaps her war had warped into an unforgiving Prime.

In the end, they were both at fault, really.

"You will be a good carrier. Soon, our people will be restored and we will return to Cybertron again." She could hear Nemesis whisper beside her, his servo rubbing at her chassis as if to serve as a reminder of their coupling. She did not regret the act, though she did regret it was with a shadow of him. "You are beautiful, and I am pleased you have come to forgive me."

But was the fault not shared?

"Nemesis—"

He let out a growl, and she faltered as she remembered this was perhaps the first time she had referred to him by designation. This was not the Optimus she knew, but to him, he thought he was.

"Optimus… You… need not hold the blame." Megatron would have preferred to be apologizing to the real version, but perhaps this will be the closest she will ever come to having him once again. "I—"

"No." Nemesis shushed her, his helm leaning against hers as he tried to hold onto her so tightly that she had begun to feel the pain of their coupling. "You have done nothing wrong. It is I that must apologize for abandoning you and believing my lofty dreams were more important than you and Cybertron."

And it was that final statement that sent her spark into a chilly acceptance.

Her Optimus was not a mech of words, and even if he was, he was much too prideful to apologize in such a manner.

Megatron winced as Nemesis began to pry at her spark chamber, and she placed a servo on his chassis to stop him. Her optics snapped open as she felt his questioning gaze.

She let out a tired chuckle, "Eager. But we are old mechs, Optimus. That is enough for the lunar cycle."

He looked like he wanted to protest, yet it was not in his coding to upset her. He let out a vent and resumed cuddling up next to her.

She closed her optics once again.

It would not take.

There would be no sparkling

She had ensured that.

—

The ship was burning.

Megatron was only grateful that the last view she will have is that of the sun, and not of the approaching darkness that came with the night. Her arm was already in pieces, lost in the rubble and the chaos as they began their descent to Earth. She knew not where Quintessa had gone, nor did she particularly care. Instead, her spark felt the deepest sense of acceptance, of the arrival of the end.

She had tasted death twice.

She would not be afraid to join in its embrace once again.

Even now.

Even with him.

She could feel the cold chill of his sword against her neck cables, the position not unfamiliar as they have done this once before. She had been hopeful before, had wondered if he could forgive her for what she had done and that she too could finally forgive him, yet the past has proven time and time again that Optimus would always disappoint her.

She felt the sting of this foreign planet's wind against the back of her frame, a sharp contrast to the familiar warmth of his pressed against hers as he drew her closer to her inevitable demise.

He had promised her that he would stay.

She had known it was a lie, but she had hoped nonetheless.

It would be easy to fight back, and she had, only to lose as she always did. Perhaps, it was her own foolishness deluding herself to believe that she could finally have him back… even for just a lunar cycle - that she could finally return home.

Such grandeurs were never meant for a weapon like her.

She should have known that.

She felt the weight of him against her frame, though this time there was no kindness to his touches.

She supposed, she shouldn't have expected anything less.

The purple was gone, which meant he was free from the control Quintessa had placed him under, and it was all Megatron could do to believe that that was all it was.

A fantasy.

A mere delusion.

A mere trickery of the Quintesson Queen.

All those promises, all that sweetness and love that he had poured out in the previous lunar cycles were never true. They were only remnants of a past long since gone.

A past that they had both left burning in the remains of what they once had been.

"Did you ever love me at all?"

It was a stupid question.

Yet it had escaped her all the same.

Optimus had paused for a moment, and she should have taken that opportunity to push him away and gain the upper servo.

Yet, she waited for his response.

She knew not why, Maybe it was because, despite everything, she still wanted to trust him.

"Once."

It was not the answer she wanted.

But really, what else was there to say?

When he pushed her out of the ship, and she felt herself fall…

Only then did she find her peace.

—

He found her a month after the final battle.

In truth, he had been terrified that he had lost her for the third and final time. Though he knew the first had not been by his servo, her first death still clung to his spark. The second death was entirely his fault.

He wondered if it would have been a kinder mercy if she had perished at last, broken beyond repair by his final betrayal of her when he had pushed her away on the ship. Yet a part of him, the part that has learned throughout this millenia, had wanted her back.

It would not be perfect, and there was much for them both to atone for.

But what was he without her?

He had wandered through the forest that may have been her resting place. It was easy to know this was where she had fallen due to the large smokes and fires that had burned throughout the month since he had first attempted to find her. He had found where she had landed, the crater burning with metal and the remains of what must have fallen off her armor.

In truth, he knew not what he had wanted then.

He wanted proof of whether she lived or died and then…

He was not certain.

His memories of Nemesis came to him in flashes of dreams throughout the days he had gone to search for her. He had seen her in her most vulnerable once more, yet even that had not been enough to sway him into sympathy.

No, he had already wanted to see her since their last parting on the ship.

He had not named the emotion he had felt at the time.

He remembered the look of shock that had been on her face at her first death.

Then the betrayal at the second.

At the third, there had been a resignation in her optics. As though she had come to accept what was to come.

And that… that reminded her of the Megatron he once knew.

The Megatron who was too resigned to do anything she wanted.

The Megatron who had dedicated all of herself to Cybertron and their people while he was a young and reckless fool who reaped the benefits of Primacy and yet did nothing to earn it.

The Megatron he had hurt and left behind.

Death would have been the last fate he would want for her, yet the longer he had searched, he had been desperate for a single sign - an answer as to what had happened to her.

He knew it would he impossible for her frame to have melted in the fire, regardless of the remains he had found where she had fallen. They were stronger than mere fire, and deep down he knew Megatron could not possibly die from such a simple death.

And yet, had she not been resigned to it?

They say half the battle against death was in the processor, if one was to resign themselves already to the Allspark, then it was easier for one's fate to come to an end.

And yet, he had to hope she had hid herself away. Injured as she was, she could not have gone far.

Still, it scared him to think that one day he will find underneath moss and the growth of the forest, and this time there would be no fourth chance. Only in the Allspark would they be reunited once again.

Yet he believed he owed it to her to find her. He owed it to her to not abandon her again and ensure she was put to rest, not on this planet, but the home that she had loved.

It took a month, yet he had gained intelligence that there were strange occurences in the northern sector of the forest Megatron had fallen into. It could be merely rumors, but Optimus had clung to the lifeline as he had quickly transformed to survey the area.

He wondered what the Autobots must think, his continued chase of a phantom that they all must despise even if a few of them probably pitied her.

It would be strange to believe Megatron had crawled her way so far from the origin of where she had fallen, and yet as he had found himself traversing through the dense northern parts of the forest, he found it to be a good place for any of them to disappear to.

It did not take long to find a trace of her.

Indeed, it was not even a mere trace as he accidentally stumbled upon her sleeping in a cave.

The stillness and grayness of her frame nearly assured him that he had been too late. Yet as he had approached her, her optics had snapped open and she snarled at him from the darkness of the cave.

He had wanted to run to her then, worried that her injuries were too severe and he could still lose her. Yet the anger in her optics stopped him and he froze there at the entrance, servo gripping the wall's edge.

He had refused to listen to her once, and that had led to so much bloodshed.

He wanted so desperately to be a fool again, to drag her out of the dark kicking and screaming if must, if only so he could bring her to a medic.

And yet that would be unfair.

After everything, he had hurt far too much to force her into anything again.

And so, even if stung, he waited.

He did not communicate to his Autobots.

He knew not how long it would take, but he would remain there with her.

Whether through death or forgiveness, he would be there for her.

He had chosen to remain outside the cave, turning his back to show he trusted her and to ensure no one else could possibly come to harm her as he kept guard at the entrance.

It took two months for a change.

He had positioned himself against the cave entrance, the Earth's moon high in the sky as he settled for the lunar cycle. His optics had barely shut close when he heard the creak of metal behind him.

His servo quickly turned to his sword, spark whirring in dread as he looked behind him. He did not worry that Megatron would attack, but rather worried why she had begun to move.

He had anticipated one of the Earth's small fauna to emerge, yet there was nothing but the deep red of Megatron's optics as she approached him.

He did not dare move, his gaze locked on hers as she waited for her to say anything. Yet all she did was stare until at last, with her only servo (the other safely in his own habsuite after he had recovered it from the ship) she reached for him.

Optimus did not hesitate, yet he moved carefully in fear of provoking her to run.

Their digits gently grazed one another and as soon as he was certain that this is what she wanted, he clasped his servo in hers.

He thought that would be the end of it, but she pulled at him.

Optimus allowed her to set the pace, and though the darkness of the cave swallowed them both, he was not fearful that she should attack him while his guard was down. Even if she had, he would not blame her after everything. Instead, she led her to where she had laid for the past months she had been in isolation. Optimus had to wonder where she had acquired the cloth, but he found he could care less. There was no stench of human death, and he would not blame her for a crime he had no proof she even committed.

Instead, he allowed himself to bask in her presence, the chill of her armor familiar to him despite the millenia of wanting and hate that had set them apart.

She laid down, and he stood for a moment as he gazed into her face.

Her battlemask was still locked in place, and he knew that so was his. Without hesitation, he manually disengaged the locks.

It took her a few breems to reciprocate.

But he would have waited another month if necessary if it meant he got the chance to see her once again.

The years had not been kind.

But it was still her underneath the scars.

And, for better or worse, he was still himself.

They may have lost each other and themselves, but they were still here.

He opened his intake to speak, yet a quick look from her made him silent. It was not anger, just a plea to remain as he was.

There were so many words he wanted to tell her.

So many questions he was not sure he wanted answered.

The memories of his time as Nemesis were there, and he remembered.

Yet it was just the two of them.

No one else.

Her servo left his and turned towards herself, and his processor nearly froze as her digits scraped at the sides of her spark chamber. He moved to stop her, but the sharp glance that met him kept him from moving.

He wanted to tell her she did not have to.

That he did not deserve it.

Did not deserve her.

Yet, he could do nothing but wait until he heard the lock of her chamber disengage and a white light scared off the shadows of the cave.

Even after all these years, even after the war, it was still her.

"Prove it."

She had dared his other version before, the haze of his memories told him enough of that. For a while, he had been jealous of his own self for having had her in his arms again when he had wanted her back throughout the millenia.

But here they were, once again, in one another's grasp.

And he was not enough of a fool to let her go for a third time.

His own spark chamber was quick to open, blue complimenting the white. The light of their sparks intertwined, neither one overpowering the other as he moved closer towards her.

He placed a servo on the side of her frame, optics searching hers for confirmation. She kept her gaze fixed on his, and there was a flicker of emotion in her optics as if daring him to move.

Now who was the eager one between them?

Carefully, and with a gentleness he had thought he had lost in the war, he moved close until he was right on her. He could feel the thrum of their sparks as electricity began to build between them, illuminating the darkness of the night.

For a long time, he felt at home.

White and blue mixed, their sparks familiar to one another despite the war and the distance that had kept them apart for so long. He closed his optics, feeling her within himself after a millenia of isolation. It was startling to have her again, and yet he welcomed her presence until he was unsure where he began and where she ended.

Their sparks formed momentarily into one, the thrumming and whirring of their very essence convalescing together until at last they both simply… were.

The other's emotions became theirs as he felt the weight of her and she felt him.

There was much to unravel, so many wounds and scars that could never be erased.

He felt her agony…

…her sorrow…

…her rage.

And he knew she must feel his.

The shame.

The anger.

The regret.

Everything that they had held for the other poured out and shared as their sparks danced as though they were binary stars finally returned to one another.

Yet, despite all the pain they had inflicted upon themselves, there was a presence of emotion that sustained and continued to fuel them both into further embrace.

Love.

Despite everything, there was still love between them both.

There need not be words, not when the most deepest parts of themselves were already in accord, and yet Optimus still wanted her to know what he could never put to voice.

The humans called their very essence as "souls." He knew not if the spark was what constituted as a Cybertronian's "soul" yet he wanted her to know that the very essence that made him who he was felt her absence throughout the years.

He wanted her to know he was sorry.

Though the love did not fade, he began to pour out the regret he had felt when he had allowed her to walk away that day, the disgust he felt at himself for the words he had chosen that had pushed her away. His spark nearly stuttered at the weight of his guilt that in the darkest of nights had nearly consumed him throughout the war.

He had not expected a response to it, merely wanting her to know that the deepest parts of him was truly and unrepentantly sorry - that if she so wished it, he would walk away from her now and let her choose her fate even though every piece of his coding demanded he bring her back and ensure she did not die alone in this foreign planet.

He almost expected her to push him away then, knowing that she had not wanted him to apologize when she had stopped him from speaking a few breems ago.

Yet, instead of either of those outcomes, he felt her presence push back, just as fierce as she had been as her own guilt intermingled with his.

They had both become monsters in this war, their servos stained with both the blood of their people and their planet. His optics snapped open, and though the light between them both was nearly blinding, he found her gaze in the haze of it.

Her optics were no longer the soft white hue of innocence and patience that she once had, but he was certain the blue of his optics no longer held the youth and naivety he once held either. Yet despite that, they still recognized each other deep within the sorrow and weariness.

No, the years had not been kind to either of them.

But they were merciful to have allowed them this chance meeting once again, for giving them this moment.

For however long it lasted.

He knew not how long it had taken, though it could not have been more than a joor before their sparks finally relinquished one another. The ache of her absence no longer burdened him as he felt her still within himself even as their sparks returned to their chambers. It was almost as though their light still scorched the shadows even as their spark chambers closed and they were left to stare into one another's optics.

Carefully, Optimus raised a servo, and when Megatron did not object, he placed it gently on her cheekplate.

He could stare at her forever.

Though he knew that may have been enough for the night. He could console himself that they were bonded again, and that he did not have to part with her long.

Megatron may have been cruel during the war, but surely she would not have attempted to fix their sparkbons if she intended to die on her own.

He could accept that though it may take a month more, they can fix the broken pieces between the both of them.

He caressed her cheekplate softly, then with difficulty, he moved to stand and return to his post at the entrance.

"Stay."

It was so soft that if he did not memorize the way she spoke, the way her voice held so much power even in just a simple word, he may have missed it. Yet there was nothing but the sound of the world outside that could have concealed it.

And Optimus was here with her, where everything else could fade away and not matter.

He turned to look at her, her optics betraying the want that her frame was still too tense to show. He did not move again, except to hold her closer until he was upon her.

"I will stay."

She could not bear to hear his apologies, but he still wanted to make a vow to her. With the stars as their only witness, he wanted her to know he belonged to her just as much as she belonged to him… if he would have her as he was now.

He could not change the past, and all the sparkbreak he had given her as he had chased selfishly chased his dreams…

And she could not change what she had done in the name of the war she had begun.

But they still had the future.

And they still had one another.

"For how long?"

There was a resignation to her question as she glanced up at him. From their moment of becoming one, he had seen all the times he had left her alone, and knew the question was deserved.

Though she did not seem to blame him any longer, she still believed that come the sunrise, he would be gone again.

It was a burden he would have to carry for as long as he lived, the scar of it an eternal mark on their relationship.

"As you long as you will have me."

He knew from the look she gave him that she did not believe a single word.

But Optimus was a mech of action.

With her permission, he leaned down until their dermas were pressed together, and for the longest time he could finally taste her on his glossa again.

There are no words that could convey his vow.

But he had the rest of their life to show her.

He would stay, as he should have from the start.

The night passed, and though no word was uttered between them, they basked in the other's presence.

And it was enough.

—

It was warm by the time she awoke. A miracle she had believed to be sun before the rumbling of a familiar engine made it dawn upon her that it had been real.

He had been real.

It was still dark within the cave, yet sunlight pierced through the shadows and drew them further back as the light of a new day came to greet them. She was still curled up against him, her servos pressed to his chassis and trembling - though whether this was her own will or her frame merely responding to his rumbling, she did not know.

The remnants of the previous night still clung to them, the scent of ozone still present in the air. She had expected him to be a mere phantom, a nightmare and dream combined to haunt her in the desolation she had found herself in. Though she had blamed him, she knew deep down the path of her life was of her own making.

She had resolved to die here, in the dark.

Yet here he was, a phantom brought to life even as the sun reflected off the metal of his colorful frame.

He was real.

He was still here.

There was, undoubtedly, more that ought to be spoken of between the two of them. The conversation of the night and their shared coupling were not enough to eradicate the millenia of war and bloodshed they had casted upon one another. Even as she laid beside him, she could still find the traces of her marks upon his frame.

She glanced at her servo, almost ashamed at how the claws had become a piece of her, though it was not the brutality that she was sorry for but rather the lives that had been lost because of her own foolishness.

It was difficult to pry herself away from him, her spark feeling the weight of her decision even before she had begun to move. She remembered how, a long time ago, they had parted from one another in quite a similar place. She had been lost in her anger, and the Prime had never been the smartest when it came to consolation.

She glanced down at herself, at the fullness that remained inside and the sense of fear at the idea that he would be gone again. He had stayed, yet when the sun had fully risen, would he remain?

It would be easy to leave.

While the shadows were still lingering, she could leave and disappear into the forest. She had resolved her to die, as had been what they had both wanted. Yet he was here and her spark continued to whirr.

She could leave.

Abandon him first before he had the chance to hurt her again.

The promises of the night were never made to last, hadn't she learned that twice already?

As soon as the sun rose, he would regret what they had done, and she could not bear another sparkbreak.

Not again.

Not from him.

Her frame moved before her processor could decide, and for a moment she thought she was leaving. Then she realized that it wasn't her own will, but rather, his arms had snaked around the plating of her waist and pulled her closer. Her optics chance a glance behind her, surprised to find him awake.

She thought he was about to attack, to finish her so that this planet could no longer be menaced by her presence. Instead, he twisted her in his arms as gently as though he beheld a crystal flower, before laying her back down to the ground.

He moved to lay on top of her, his blue optics penetrating into her core as though from his gaze alone he wanted to pin her where she was. She waited silently for the moment where his tenderness turned to pain, for him to draw his sword… yet he remained still as though he had turned into a mere statue above her.

Then, his helm lowered and he pressed his face against her chassis, pressing a gentle kiss against the metal. She could hear him muttering a single word, and she had to turn up her audials to understand him.

"Stay."

If he had told her that before, when they had first gone their separate ways, Megatron was unsure if she would have listened to him. She had been forged to be his weapon, and she had been tired of listening to the orders of a mech whose love was so fickle as the very title that had been bestowed to him.

No, as she thought about it, she would not have stayed.

And she probably would not have stayed at the present moment, if it were not for the tightening of his hold as she began to move again.

"I need you."

Apologies were difficult between the both of them, yet it was the closest they perhaps will come to. Megatron ceased her movements, her frame relaxing into his hold. She moved her servo to wrap around him, her helm lowering so that it may rest against the top of his. Unlike the night before, where they had allowed themselves to be lost in the cores of one another, this time they remained themselves… yet together.

There was much to fix and so much to atone, yet she found she was willing to stay… at least for this time.

They had changed through the millenia.

No longer were her optics white.

And no longer was Optimus so irresponsible.

Yet they both found they still wanted the other just as deeply as they always had.

And as the sun finally pierced through the final darkness that still lingered in the cave, she found that the star that had once brought nothing but sparkbreak, no longer burned her.

She felt herself in the protection of his warmth, and she finally allowed herself to forgive him.

The stars will always shine through the dark, though they burn, they always guide you home.