One Origin, Different Sparks

by danni_02

Summary:

(This is my AU, so things may not be the same as other universes +influenced by the covenant of Primus)

In a time long past on Cybertron, all Cybertronians coexisted in a profound harmony. Though this era lies far behind us, its reverberations persist, etching an indelible mark upon the consciousness of all sentient beings, even to this day.

I am Optimus Prime, the last of the Thirteen Primes, and it is my solemn duty to recount the tale of the lost and lasting legacy of the first children of Primus—the Thirteen.

How did we come to be? What manner of Cybertronians were we, truly? And perhaps the most haunting question of all—what became of us? This is what I shall answer, but of course I’ll have some help.

COMMENT IF YOU READ PLEASE :) (If u like it)

Chapter 1: Every Story has a beginning

In a time long past on Cybertron, all Cybertronians coexisted in a profound harmony. Though this era lies far behind us, its reverberations persist, etching an indelible mark upon the consciousness of all sentient beings, even to this day.

I am Optimus Prime, the last of the Thirteen Primes, and it is my solemn duty to recount the tale of the lost and lasting legacy of the first children of Primus—the Thirteen.

Primus, the Father of Cybertron, is our creator. Every being forged upon this sacred planet is his progeny, born from his spark and sustained by his lifeblood—energon. As I reflect upon my existence on Cybertron, I find my appreciation for Primus deepening; his essence has nurtured us for billions of years. Reflecting on the way we cybertronians speak, “oh my Primus”, anything we admire in awe we think of him. Yet, before he became our creator, he was revered as a god.

Primus embodies the divine light, the purest manifestation of good. Yet, where there is light, shadows inevitably follow. No sun shines without casting its darkness; this is an eternal truth that even Primus could not escape. The shadow he cast gave rise to Unicron, the primordial entity of chaos and one of Cybertron's most formidable adversaries. Their conflict raged ceaselessly, for these two primordial beings were almost equal in power. Darkness and light, life and death—opposing forces with divergent aspirations for their world. While Primus yearned to foster life, Unicron renounced such a wish, positioning himself as the antithesis of existence. One sought to protect life; the other, to consume it.

Thus, their battle raged on, an unending struggle that commenced with the dawn of the universe, as peace remained a distant dream, forever elusive. It was only when Primus made the fateful decision to shield the universe from impending consumption—if only for a time—that the course of history shifted. With every ounce of his divine power, Primus caught Unicron off guard and sealed them both within colossal asteroids, which ultimately became their very forms. However, Primus could not confine Unicron only, for every power exacts a toll.

In his fury, Unicron refused to concede defeat. His essence, still vibrant within his core, enabled him to reshape his asteroid into a mechanical planet of his own design. In retaliation to Unicron's initiative, Primus too began to mold his rocky encasement, transforming it into the robotic world that would be known as Cybertron.

Thus commenced the genesis of Cybertronian life.

“Optimus boy do not forget about us,”

“My apologies,”

Primus had long foreseen the inevitable return of Unicron, though he wished, with all his might, that it would never come to pass. In preparation for this dark fate, we—the Thirteen—were created. The Thirteen Primes are etched deeply into the annals of Cybertronian history, their existence known even to the youngest of sparklings. We were the first Cybertronians, born of Primus himself, each of us forged with a singular purpose: to defend Cybertron from cosmic threats, none more fearsome than Unicron.
Blessed by Primus, we towered over our brethren, our forms vast and powerful, marked by abilities far beyond the reach of ordinary Cybertronians. Take Vector Prime, the Interdimensional Traveler, for instance—his mastery over time and space made him unlike any other. Or Solus Prime, whose unmatched creative power could forge anything her mind envisioned. Yet, for all the power bestowed upon us, we were burdened with a weight few could bear—the responsibility to face and, if possible, destroy Primus’ eternal adversary: Unicron.

“When do I enter the story?” A voice interrupted me, his tone bored while he played with what I believed was one of his fingers…liquified? I turned to face him, my blue optics locking onto his.

“Amalgamous, please be patient.” I reply, Amalgamous groaned as he placed his helm on the glowing energon table.

“I don’t know what Amalgamous is on about, I think listening to the beginning makes me feel nostalgic!” Solus stated smiling at me, “continue!”

Ahem. Each of us serves a critical role in maintaining the balance of the universe, our very existence intertwined, each Prime counterbalancing the other. But the question remains—how did we come to be? What manner of Cybertronians were we, truly? And perhaps the most haunting question of all—what became of us?

Chapter 2: The Birth of the First of us

Summary:

A deep voice resonated through the void, “Prima Prime, wake.” The optic ridge of the figure twitched, and in a single klick, his optics flared open—a cold, snow-blue light blazing from them. He turned his faceplate toward the origin of the voice. Nothing. His bluish-white servos rose before his optics, inspecting each digit. He clenched them, testing their strength.

Billions of years ago

In the depths of Cybertron's core, a small light gleamed with the appearance of a distant star—a spark, radiant and pure. This luminescence, bathed in a striking white hue, drifted gracefully within the cerulean depths of its surroundings, as if anticipating an unknown purpose. The spark intensified, radiating ever more brilliance as it expanded in size. At last, when it reached its zenith, an outline of a figure emerged from the luminous haze. A white-armored form materialized, and as the spark diminished, it seamlessly entered the figure's chest. In that instant, the figure began to emanate a crystalline blue glow, its eyes closed and body suspended in the heart of Cybertron’s core. Suddenly a deep voice echoed through the core.

A deep voice resonated through the void, “Prima Prime, wake.” The optic ridge of the figure twitched, and in a single klick, his optics flared open—a cold, snow-blue light blazing from them. He turned his faceplate toward the origin of the voice. Nothing. His bluish-white servos rose before his optics, inspecting each digit. He clenched them, testing their strength.

“Who are you?” the figure asked, startled by the unfamiliar sound of his own voice.

“Who am I?” The deep voice echoed back. The figure stepped back, startled by the swift response, his footfall landing on… nothing. Yet, the answer crystallized in his mind, though he couldn’t fathom how.

“Primus, my creator,” he answered, as though the knowledge had always been there, though he had been alive for mere breems. “But who am I?” he pressed, confusion tightening his spark.

“You are my first. You are Prima Prime.” Prima glanced down at his chassis, where a dormant, glowing spark lay peacefully. His servo rested on it, his optics scanning the endless digital blue void around him.

“A name is but a label. What is my purpose? Why was I created?” he questioned, a thread of unease weaving through his voice.

Primus remained silent for a moment, and a flicker of fear crossed Prima’s mind—had he driven his creator away? But then, the voice returned, calm, almost calculating. “I am impressed by your curiosity. Let us see if my plan unfolds as intended.” A shimmering, blue-tinted dodecahedron materialized before Prima, causing him to retreat a step.

“What do you mean?” Prima asked, the geometric shape pulsing with a strange, comforting glow.

“You are young, but your purpose is born of strife. I wish you and your future kin could be spared the conflict ahead, but the world needs you,” Primus responded, his voice heavy with the weight of inevitability.

Prima’s optic ridge furrowed, his spark now racing. “What kind of purpose? What do you mean?”

The dodecahedron floated closer, glowing ever brighter. “You must journey into the world I created, and find me.”

Prima’s optics narrowed in confusion. “But you are right here, before me.”

“I am but a projection, a mere echo of what you must discover. Find me, awaken your siblings, and then—only then—will we meet again.”

The surrounding space darkened, shadows creeping into the digital expanse, growing colder with each passing moment.

“Wait!” Prima’s voice edged with desperation. “Why must I find you to wake them? Can’t you do for them what you’ve done for me?”

“Not all creations are the same.”

Suddenly the world came crashing down as he flew up, out of the expanse, and the last thing Prima saw was a small glimpse of another figure standing where the dodecahedron was.

Prima’s vision went black.

Present Day, Within the Allspark

“Hold on a klick! Prima, did that actually happen?” I halted my story, my gaze shifting toward the Prime who had interrupted, Liege Maximo. His sharp eyes turned toward Prima, who remained motionless beside me, arms crossed, optics closed in silent contemplation.

“Does it matter?” Prima’s voice, cold and distant, responded before opening his optics glancing in Liege Maximo’s direction, “Such trivial details hold no relevance to you, Maximo.”

Liege Maximo’s glare intensified, his voice uncharacteristically sharp. “And here I thought manipulation was my expertise. What makes you think that being ‘different’ doesn’t matter?”

I raised an optic ridge. Maximo wasn’t known for outbursts. He was usually the type to keep his emotions masked. The room fell silent, a tension hanging between the Primes. As Prima moved to respond, I placed a servo on his shoulder, signaling him to let it go.

“Maximo, why don’t we finish the story before drawing conclusions?” I suggested calmly, turning my faceplate toward him. His gaze remained locked on me for a klik, then he sighed, leaning back into his seat. I removed my servo from Prima, feeling the tension ease.

“May I ask a question?” A voice from the far side of the table broke the silence. I turned toward the source and offered a small smile.

“What is it, Megatron?” Every optic turned toward him, the former Decepticon leader seated at the other end of the energon table, his arms crossed, an optic ridge raised in skepticism.

“Why am I here, Optimus? I certainly didn’t foresee this,” Megatron’s voice was laced with mild annoyance. His optics met mine, a hint of disbelief flickering behind them.

“When you fell into the Allspark, I didn’t expect to see you again either. But this world is full of surprises.” A dismissive huff came from the center of the table, drawing my attention to another Prime, Megatronus, his reddish-white optics narrowing at Megatron.

“Given your name, it’s amusing you underestimate a Prime,” Megatronus growled, his tone rough as iron. I tensed, sensing a clash in the making. Just as Megatron opened his intake to fire back, I quickly intervened.

“Me and Primus have our reasons, Megatron. Now, may I continue?”

Megatron waved his servo dismissively, the shadow of a forced smile on his face. “By all means.”

“Now. How does a sparkling adventure a world alone?”

Chapter 3: The Deafening Silence

Summary:

As Prima held the artifact, something shifted within him. His chassis began to open involuntarily, like a door welcoming a long-expected guest. The relic was drawn inside with a magnetic pull, and Prima gasped, stumbling backward as a torrent of knowledge flooded his processor. He grasped at his helm, struggling to control the overwhelming surge of information. For several breems, he remained still, forcing his systems to stabilize before they overheated.

Prima lay sprawled across Cybertron’s metallic surface, his processor racing, trying to make sense of his encounter with Primus. The sensation of being born was unlike anything he could have anticipated—unfamiliar and unsettling. From what Primus had shared, it was clear that this was the first time something like this had happened. If he succeeded in his mission, it would not be the last. He knew he should feel something—perhaps honored or afraid—but the words themselves seemed foreign, concepts not yet fully understood. He wondered if he should remain where he was for the next few solar-cycles; after all, Primus had not demanded immediate action. Yet deep within, Prima understood what was required of him—what was right.

Gathering his strength, Prima lifted his back plate from the ground and sat upright, bracing himself for what lay ahead. What he saw took his breath away. The landscape before him was unlike anything he had imagined. Metallic mountains stretched into the distance, reaching beyond the limits of his vision, their peaks reflecting the light of Cybertron’s two moons. The sky was clear, revealing the celestial dance of moons that slowly circled above, casting pale shadows over the newborn world.

Life was scarce, the planet still in its infancy, untouched and brimming with potential. It was as though Cybertron itself was a newborn sparkling, its raw beauty in its untamed youth. Prima couldn’t help but be moved by the sight, a deep sense of responsibility welling up within him. He felt a quiet resolve—he would help guide this world and its people towards their future, but it had to be done the right way.

“I’m getting ahead of myself,” Prima muttered, trying to steady his thoughts.

He got to his feet, surveying his surroundings. The vastness of the terrain posed a daunting challenge—choosing his path blindly could be disastrous, forcing him to retrace his steps should he go astray. Couldn’t you have given me more guidance, Primus? Prima thought, almost accusingly. His silent question hung in the air, unanswered, until a faint pulsing noise broke the silence. It echoed softly in his ear, growing stronger with each passing moment. Prima turned, searching for its source, and then saw it—an object lying on the ground, partially obscured by the metallic dust.

Prima approached cautiously, staring in wonder at what lay before him. Primus had managed to surprise him once again. The artifact bore some resemblance to what Primus had described, but it was undeniably different. At its core was a crystalline structure, radiating a deep, ethereal light that pulsed rhythmically, as though it were alive with Primus’s essence. When Prima picked it up, he saw that its surface was adorned with intricate patterns and runes—ancient symbols whispering secrets long lost to time. Its handles curved elegantly, like the wings of a celestial being.

As Prima held the artifact, something shifted within him. His chassis began to open involuntarily, like a door welcoming a long-expected guest. The relic was drawn inside with a magnetic pull, and Prima gasped, stumbling backward as a torrent of knowledge flooded his processor. He grasped at his helm, struggling to control the overwhelming surge of information. For several breems, he remained still, forcing his systems to stabilize before they overheated. Gradually, the chaos within his mind subsided, and Prima regained his footing, standing upright once more.

The confusion that had plagued him was gone, replaced by a newfound clarity. He turned his gaze to his right, instinctively knowing that this was the path he was meant to take. The Matrix—yes, he now knew its name—had shown him the way.

“I guess it’s time to get moving,” Prima murmured, his voice steady with resolve. Without a second thought, he began walking, setting off toward the unknown destiny that awaited him, the Matrix’s presence guiding his every step. Each of Prima’s steps reverberated through the stillness, the echoes startling him with every stride. The world around him was eerily silent, amplifying every noise he made. He could hear nothing else—just the mechanical sound of his own movements and the relentless hum of his thoughts. It was a silence that seemed almost deafening, yet he knew he should savor it. If he succeeded in his mission, silence like this would become a distant memory. The world around him felt unchanging, as if it were an endless cycle of repetition. Every direction seemed identical, as if the landscape were a reflection of his own uncertainty, leaving him with a persistent sense of going in circles.

A sudden, involuntary twitch in his servos broke his stride. He stopped, looking up sharply. Something was wrong. The once-clear sky had darkened, shrouded in an unfamiliar gloom. Prima hadn’t realized how long he had been walking—perhaps a few vorns? Time felt meaningless in this place. But that wasn’t what disturbed him. It was the Matrix, whispering a warning in the depths of his chassis: Find shelter. But shelter from what?

The ground began to tremble ever so slightly beneath his pedes. Prima glanced around, his optic ridges narrowing in concern. There was nothing in sight that offered refuge—just the same unchanging metallic landscape. The rumbling intensified, and Prima’s spark flickered with unease. His optics darted desperately across the terrain until something caught his attention. One of the towering metallic mountains began to shift, as if its very structure were coming apart. It wasn’t collapsing—it was opening, parting slowly like the arms of Primus himself, beckoning his child to safety.

Without thinking, Prima bolted toward the opening, but the ground beneath him moved as if trying to drag him forward, urging him to hurry. He stumbled and nearly fell, his digits clawing at the shifting earth to regain his footing. As he crossed the threshold, the mountain sealed itself behind him with a final, resonant clang that echoed like the closing of a great gate.

Prima stood there, panting, his faceplates locked in a look of confusion. He allowed himself a sigh of relief, his frame relaxing as he sank to the floor. The silence here was heavy, but different—less oppressive and more protective, like a guardian watching over him. Prima’s helm tilted slightly as he peered out of the cave, the darkness of the sky lingering in his mind.

What was I supposed to hide from? he wondered, his processor running through possibilities. He felt exposed, as though he were facing an unseen threat in a world that had never warned him of dangers before. He didn’t know what to expect, and that made the waiting all the more unsettling.

Leaning against the cavern wall, Prima flexed his digits anxiously, feeling the tension coiled in his servos. He could sense the presence of the Matrix within his chassis, its soft pulse a reminder that it guided him for a purpose. He was not alone, but even with the relic’s guidance, he was plagued by uncertainty.

Whatever it was that prompted the Matrix to seek shelter, it was coming. And as Prima stared out at the shifting shadows beyond the cave, he felt a chilling realization—the silence was about to end.

(Present Day in the Allspark)

“Thinking of Prima as a sparkling is so adorable!” Solus exclaimed, her optics gleaming with a rare, childlike excitement. I couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, glad to see such lightheartedness.

“I wasn’t childish, if that’s what you’re imagining,” Prima responded, his arms firmly crossed over his chassis. His optics remained closed, his expression tight, as if he were holding onto a memory he didn’t want to share.

“Don’t be a bit-brain, Solus. We met him when he was a sparkling,” Liege Maximo quipped sharply, a hint of mockery in his tone. I sighed, a quiet exhalation of both amusement and exasperation. As much as I tried not to, I found it all a bit entertaining.

“Maximo,” Megatronus interjected, his voice carrying the weight of a restrained threat. “You’re my friend, but watch your words.” He turned to Solus, offering her a reassuring nod. “Besides, not all of us met Prima as a sparkling, and you know that.” Maximo huffed, clearly annoyed by the correction, while Solus gave Megatronus a shy, appreciative smile.

“I wish I had met all of you back then,” Micronus chuckled, shaking his helm with genuine amusement. “Thinking of you all as anything but wise and composed is pretty funny.” As one of the youngest among us, Micronus had never seen the others in their youth, and the thought clearly amused him.

“Agreed!” Alchemist chimed in eagerly, his voice rich with humor. “Imagine Alpha Trion as an innocent, wide-eyed young sparkling!” The laughter in his voice was almost infectious. I turned to see Alpha Trion shift uncomfortably in his seat beside me, clearly not sharing in the joke.

“My wisdom came from experience,” Alpha Trion replied in his usual calm, measured tone, his optics narrowing slightly. “But even as a sparkling, my knowledge was vast.” Alchemist grinned at the older Prime, clearly enjoying his discomfort. But before Alchemist could say another word, Alpha Trion nudged him gently, a silent request for quiet.

It was in these fleeting moments of light-hearted banter that the weight of our responsibilities seemed to lift, if only for a little while. In these exchanges, I could see my fellow Primes not as the legendary figures history would remember, but as friends with their own quirks and bonds forged over eons. Prima’s stern exterior cracked ever so slightly at Solus’s remark, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his faceplates despite his best efforts to maintain his composure.

“Can we hurry up and get on with the story? I’m not planning to spend the rest of my life surrounded by dead Cybertronians,” Megatron interrupted, his tone flat and completely unamused. I glanced at him and sighed. He always knew how to shatter the mood.

Maximo stifled a chuckle, his optic ridge arched in a mix of mischief and amusement, while Prima’s optics finally flickered open, a faint but unmistakable glare in his gaze.

“I will,” I replied, keeping my voice even, “but don’t worry, Megatron. You’ll understand why you’re among ‘dead Cybertronians’ soon enough.” My words lingered, hinting at a deeper significance that even Megatron’s impatience couldn’t rush.

Megatronus shifted at the sound of that name, his optics narrowing slightly. The tension was palpable. Megatronus’s grunt echoed through the silence, a wordless reminder of disgrace still fresh beneath the surface.

Chapter 4: Newly Formed Bonds

Summary:

A sharp, serpentine hiss cut through the silence, and Prima’s instincts flared. He whipped his faceplates around just in time to see another creature hurtling toward him, jaws wide, eyes blazing with that unsettling violet light. Prima’s servos moved to defend, but exhaustion had dulled his reflexes. His joints felt heavy, and he knew he wouldn’t be fast enough this time. He braced for the inevitable impact, forcing himself to stand firm even as a shadow of doubt crossed his mind.

Just then, a searing red beam sliced through the air, striking the creature mid-leap with flawless precision.

Prima remained utterly still, every servo and plate held in rigid readiness. The ground beneath him continued its subtle trembling, each pulse sending an uneasy thrum through his frame. His spark warned him of something approaching, an unknown threat lurking just beyond the edge of his awareness. The silence pressed in around him like a tightening vice, the atmosphere thick with the sensation of something waiting to strike.

Without warning, a shadow leapt from the mouth of the cave—a robotic creature with blazing purple eyes and a maw unnaturally wide, its serrated jaws poised to devour him. The creature was mid-air when Prima’s instincts surged. His servo moved without conscious thought, delivering a crushing blow to the creature’s faceplates with a resounding clang. The force of the impact sent the creature hurtling backward, colliding with the cave wall in a twisted heap. Prima glanced at his raised servo, momentarily stunned by the ferocity of his own strike. He had never been taught to fight, yet something within him had guided his movements with unnerving precision. Perhaps these instincts were gifts from Primus—latent abilities coded deep within his being.

But there was no time to dwell on it. A chorus of guttural, mechanical noises reverberated through the cave, a cacophony of clicks and growls that might have been some twisted form of communication. Prima’s optics darted to the cave’s entrance, where more of the creatures lurked—dozens of them, their forms shifting in the shadows, their eyes burning with predatory hunger. Four-legged and sinewy, they appeared almost feral, like predators born from the planet’s cold, mechanical heart.

Prima felt the Matrix within his chassis pulse softly, its light faintly illuminating the dark confines of the cave. It was as if Primus himself was whispering reassurance, telling him that he was not alone in this fight. Prima drew in a deep breath, his optics narrowing in determination as he steeled himself for what lay ahead. He knew he couldn’t simply wait for them to come to him. There were too many, and they would overwhelm him if he hesitated. He rose to his full height, exhaling slowly. “Let’s see what I can do,” he murmured, almost as a challenge to the waiting creatures.

There was no subtlety to be had here—no place to hide, no chance to plan an ambush. His only option was a direct assault. Prima stepped out of the cave and broke into a run, not away from the monstrous creatures but directly toward them.
The creatures charged in response, a snarling mass of metal and fury. Prima braced himself as the first one lunged, its claws slashing through the air. He sidestepped swiftly, allowing the creature’s momentum to carry it past him before delivering a brutal strike to its side with the flat of his servo. The creature crashed to the ground in a heap of tangled limbs, but there was no time to savor the victory. Another leapt at him, jaws wide and slavering. Prima twisted his chassis, deflecting its attack and using the creature’s weight to flip it over his shoulder, slamming it to the ground with a bone-rattling impact.

The Matrix pulsed again, and Prima felt a surge of energy course through his servos. It was as if the artifact were guiding him, enhancing his reactions and strength. More creatures swarmed around him, their eyes glowing ominously in the darkened landscape. Prima moved like a tempest, his movements both deliberate and fluid. He struck with crushing force, tearing through metal plating and disabling each opponent with a series of expertly placed blows. Despite their numbers, the creatures couldn’t match his speed or precision.

One creature managed to claw his shoulder, its jagged talons scraping against his plating. Prima gritted his teeth, a flicker of pain sparking through his systems, but he pushed it aside. He grabbed the creature by its limbs, lifting it effortlessly before hurling it into the advancing pack, scattering them like scrap.

Again and again, strike after strike, Prima moved with increasing confidence, each motion more fluid and precise than the last. He was growing accustomed to the rhythm of battle, adjusting to the power and skill embedded deep within his frame. But his strength came at a cost—exhaustion seeped into his limbs, the strain of relentless combat weighing heavily on him. As the last of the immediate threats fell before him, he knelt on the metallic ground, his frame heaving as he tried to steady his intakes.
But the moment of respite was fleeting.

A sharp, serpentine hiss cut through the silence, and Prima’s instincts flared. He whipped his faceplates around just in time to see another creature hurtling toward him, jaws wide, eyes blazing with that unsettling violet light. Prima’s servos moved to defend, but exhaustion had dulled his reflexes. His joints felt heavy, and he knew he wouldn’t be fast enough this time. He braced for the inevitable impact, forcing himself to stand firm even as a shadow of doubt crossed his mind.

Just then, a searing red beam sliced through the air, striking the creature mid-leap with flawless precision. The creature’s head was violently wrenched back, its body crumpling into a heap on the ground mere feet from Prima’s pedes. For a moment, the battlefield was silent, the air still humming with the fading echo of the shot.

Prima turned slowly, his optics searching for the source of the blast. Emerging from the shadows was another figure, one that bore a resemblance to Prima yet exuded an entirely different aura. This newcomer was clad in black and red armor, a dark and imposing silhouette against the cold, metallic horizon. His shoulder plates were broad and sharp, exuding a commanding presence, and from his right shoulder extended a cylindrical cannon adorned with fierce spikes—a weapon both elegant and terrifying in its design.

The figure’s optics glinted with an unreadable intensity, a crimson hue that seemed to pierce through the dimness around them. He stood there, unwavering, a sentinel in the midst of chaos. Though his presence was imposing, it carried a strange familiarity—a recognition Prima couldn’t explain but instinctively felt.

Prima straightened, his own exhaustion momentarily forgotten. There was something about this stranger that resonated with him, a silent understanding that transcended words. Despite the figure’s fearsome appearance and the evident lethality of his weapon, Prima felt no fear. He felt relief. Gratitude.

The figure met Prima’s gaze, his expression inscrutable, and for a moment neither spoke. There was no need. In the unspoken exchange, a bond had already begun to form—a connection rooted in something deeper than circumstance.

“You must be Prima, right?” the figure asked, his voice carrying an unexpected quality that seemed to both contradict and reinforce his imposing appearance. It was soft yet unyielding, low yet undeniably powerful. He extended a servo towards Prima, who accepted it without hesitation. The moment their servos connected, recognition sparked in Prima’s processor. He knew exactly who this was—Megatronus, the second creation.

Prima shook his head, a mix of disbelief and relief flooding through him. “I can’t believe I’m not the only one here,” he admitted, his voice betraying the tension he had carried. “That’s me—Prima. Nice to meet you, Megatronus.”

Megatronus offered a slight, almost imperceptible smile and let out a quiet chuckle. “I was worried my appearance might startle you, to be honest,” he confessed, the hint of humor in his tone contrasting with the dark armor that encased his form.

Prima tilted his helm, genuinely surprised. If anything, when he had recognized the name Megatronus, it was the opposite of fear that came to mind. The imposing figure before him looked every bit the warrior—a protector rather than a threat. “Why? Because our appearances are polar opposites?” Prima asked, studying the red and black plating that adorned Megatronus, so different from his own sleek, gleaming exterior.

Megatronus scratched the back of his helm in a rare gesture of embarrassment. He let out a rueful chuckle, acknowledging the truth of Prima’s observation. “I suppose you’re right,” he replied, casting a quick glance at Prima’s more polished, serene visage. Where Prima’s design evoked the calm authority of a peacekeeper, Megatronus’s silhouette bore the fierce, battle-ready aesthetic of a warrior forged for conflict. To an outsider, Megatronus could easily be mistaken for an agent of chaos, a harbinger of destruction, while Prima’s appearance spoke of hope and stability.

Yet here they stood, face to face, bound by a shared purpose beyond mere appearances. The contrast only reinforced the balance Primus had intended between them—light and dark, peacekeeper and warrior, each a reflection of the other’s strength and role. They were two sides of a grand design, connected by fate and the ancient will of their creator.

As they stood together, the silence between them was not empty but rich with unspoken understanding. Prima couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of camaraderie with Megatronus, despite their differences. Whatever challenges lay ahead, he felt certain now that he wasn’t facing them alone.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Prima finally said, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

Megatronus nodded, his optics narrowing thoughtfully. “They often are,” he agreed, his voice holding an edge of resolve that matched the intensity in his gaze.

“How are you here?” Prima asked, confusion clouding his voice. “Not that I’m not glad you’re here, I am! It’s just that—” He fumbled over his words, frustration bubbling beneath his calm demeanor. For all his status as the eldest, he suddenly felt uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

Megatronus placed his large servo on Prima’s shoulder, his grip firm but reassuring. “Is it just that Primus said you were the first and that you had to find his Spark to awaken the others?” Megatronus finished, his tone steady and matter-of-fact.

Prima looked up at him in surprise. How did Megatronus know so much about his mission? “Yes, exactly!” Prima stammered. “How did you—?”

“Primus created you and I as opposites,” Megatronus explained, “but I awoke later, so he sent you out first. I believe he said something about us sharing a spark? I’m not entirely sure what that means, though.”

Prima’s optics widened, the realization hitting him like a jolt. “Sharing a spark… that means we’re twins,” he murmured, voice trembling with excitement. “One spark split into two—you and me!”

Megatronus’s red optics widened in response, his expression shifting as he processed the revelation. “That… makes a lot of sense,” he said slowly, almost as if piecing together a puzzle. “That’s why I was able to find you—my spark led me to you.”

For a moment, they stood in contemplative silence, both absorbing the gravity of what this connection meant. A sense of wonder passed between them, neither having expected to discover this kind of bond amidst the desolation.

As the first rays of light pierced through the horizon, the rising sun cast a golden hue over the metallic expanse. The sight caught their attention, a brief but tranquil reprieve from the weight of their mission. Megatronus glanced at Prima and noticed the exhaustion in his posture, the toll of facing those creatures alone etched into every movement.

“Prima, we should probably get going,” Megatronus said, his tone shifting to one of concern. “But you look exhausted. Would you like to rest first?”

Prima shook his head almost immediately, his determination overriding any weariness. “No,” he said firmly. “The sooner we get to the Spark, the better.”

Megatronus’s optic ridge furrowed with worry, but he recognized the resolve in Prima’s gaze and knew there would be no changing his mind. “Alright,” he agreed, his voice carrying an undertone of respect. “Lead the way.”

(Present Day, in the Allspark)

“WAIT! YOU TWO ARE BROTHERS?!” Megatron’s voice boomed as he shot up from his seat, disbelief etched onto every feature of his face. His optics were wide, fixated on me with an intensity that seemed to demand an immediate explanation. I couldn’t help but smile at his sudden interest in the tale. Of course, he would be taken aback—after all, the one we were discussing shared his very namesake.
“I can’t blame you for being surprised,” I responded, keeping my tone steady and composed. “Cybertron’s archives don’t mention it at all. To be honest, I was skeptical at first too.”

Prima lifted his gaze to meet mine, then glanced at Megatronus, who hadn’t moved since his name first surfaced in the story. His posture was rigid, optics fixed on the table as though trying to will himself invisible.

Megatron slowly settled back into his seat, shaking his helm in disbelief. “I don’t believe this,” he muttered under his breath, the confusion lingering in his voice. He looked up, expression darkening with suspicion. “If they were brothers the entire time, why did history portray them as mortal enemies?”

Megatronus visibly flinched at Megatron’s words, but he didn’t move or utter a sound. The question hung heavy in the air, like a weight pressing down on the room. Prima sighed deeply before answering, his voice tinged with the kind of weariness only the passage of time can bring.

“They did?” Prima murmured, the disappointment clear in his tone. “I’m not surprised.” There was a heaviness in those words, an acceptance of some unspoken tragedy woven into their history. The silence that followed felt like a shared mourning, a collective acknowledgment of something lost long before any of them could understand it.

Everyone remained quiet, immersed in their thoughts, except for Maximo. From the corner of my optics, I could see him rolling his eyes, yawning as if this entire revelation was little more than a dull, predictable drama. It was a stark contrast to the somber mood lingering in the room, and I couldn’t let his indifference break the moment completely.

I sighed, deciding to cut through the tension before it thickened further. “Don’t believe everything you read,” I said softly, my gaze resting on Megatron.

Chapter 5: Trust the Dream or the Reality?

Summary:

Megatronus stared, astonished. “What did you just—?”

“It’s energon,” Prima murmured, his optics brightening as a surge of life coursed through him.

“Energon?” Megatronus repeated, bewildered. “And why do you look…recharged?” Prima couldn’t help but smile at the onslaught of Megatronus’s questions. He took a deep breath, now steadier, and placed his servo on Megatronus’s shoulder.

“According to the Matrix’s knowledge,” Prima explained, “energon is Primus’s blood—our life force. It’s not just rest that we need; we need energon to sustain ourselves.” Megatronus nodded, slowly piecing together the significance of this discovery.

Megatronus and Prima pressed forward, Prima leading the way toward the place they both sensed was calling them, where they hoped their mission’s purpose awaited. Although they had been traveling for only a few breems since the battle with those relentless, twisted robotic creatures, Megatronus could sense something was off. Even without their shared spark connection, he could see that Prima was struggling, the exhaustion evident in every movement he made.
Prima’s usual composure had faded, his steps growing heavier, and his optics seemed dimmer, barely holding their focus on the path ahead. Megatronus took in his brother’s form, watching him push forward with that characteristic determination, yet still visibly worn from their fight. It was as if every step Prima took required a force of will. Megatronus’s concern grew with each passing moment, and he could feel a subtle ache through their spark link, an echo of Prima’s fatigue.

“Prima,” Megatronus finally spoke, his voice low but firm, “we can’t keep moving like this. You need to rest.”

Prima glanced back at him, a hint of defiance flashing in his optics. “I can manage,” he said, though his voice lacked its usual strength. “The sooner we reach Primus’s spark, the better. There’s no time to waste.”

Megatronus stepped closer, placing a steady servo on his shoulder. “We’ve fought enough battles for now,” he said, his tone insistent but gentle. “You’ve done more than enough.” His optics softened. “A few breems to regain your strength won’t change the outcome of our mission.”

“I told you, Megatronus, I’m fine…” Prima tried to insist, but his voice faltered as he slumped into Megatronus’s arms. “Just…need a second.” Megatronus shot him a sharp glare; there was selflessness, and then there was recklessness. With a huff of exasperation, Megatronus picked Prima up and carried him over to a nearby rock by a stream of luminous blue liquid.

“You’re out of your mind, Prima, thinking you can keep going like this,” he muttered, settling his brother down gently.

“I’m not out of my mind! I’m… always right. Never wrong,” Prima mumbled, his optics half-shuttered as he tried to keep himself steady. Megatronus gave an exasperated sigh, rolling his optics.

“Older you might be, but that doesn’t mean you’re always right,” he replied, arms crossed as he watched Prima struggle. Prima looked away, his gaze drifting toward the stream of blue liquid, catching sight of its gentle glow. His optics brightened as he realized something.

“Megatronus…” Prima said slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was right—rest alone won’t help me.”

Megatronus rolled his optics again, but just as he was about to protest, Prima raised his servo, covering Megatronus’s faceplate to silence him. “Just… listen to me,” Prima said, voice firm. Megatronus stilled, watching as Prima removed his servo and gestured toward the stream. “Bring me closer to the liquid.”

Megatronus’s optics widened in confusion as he glanced at the glowing blue stream. “Why?”

“Just trust me,” Prima replied, his optics flickering as he held onto the last shreds of his strength. Megatronus nodded, picking him up again and setting him carefully by the edge of the stream. Prima leaned over, scooped some of the liquid into his digits, and consumed it.

Megatronus stared, astonished. “What did you just—?”

“It’s energon,” Prima murmured, his optics brightening as a surge of life coursed through him.

“Energon?” Megatronus repeated, bewildered. “And why do you look…recharged?” Prima couldn’t help but smile at the onslaught of Megatronus’s questions. He took a deep breath, now steadier, and placed his servo on Megatronus’s shoulder.

“According to the Matrix’s knowledge,” Prima explained, “energon is Primus’s blood—our life force. It’s not just rest that we need; we need energon to sustain ourselves.” Megatronus nodded, slowly piecing together the significance of this discovery.

“So… this means we can keep going?” Prima said, voice returning to its usual strength. He stepped forward, ready to continue, but Megatronus’s servo clamped onto his shoulder, holding him back.

“Not so fast. You said it yourself: we need rest, too,” Megatronus insisted, his tone unwavering. Prima opened his mouth to protest, but he knew his brother was right… much as he didn’t want to admit it.

Megatronus held Prima’s gaze firmly. “I promise, we’ll set out as soon as you’ve regained your strength,” he assured.

Prima let out a sigh, reluctantly conceding. “Fine,” he muttered, settling back down beside Megatronus. Primas optics came to flutter closed as he rested his helm on Megatronus’ shoulder.

(Prima’s dream)

"Brother!"

Prima’s optics flickered open at the sound of a familiar voice. He looked around, trying to find the source, but all he could see was a barren, gray landscape—he recognized it as his birth planet, but something was off. There was no light, only a heavy, desolate silence.

“You old mech! That’s how you think of me?” The voice echoed again, more aggressive than he remembered. Prima felt his spark skip; it sounded like Megatronus, but harsher, filled with anger. Frantically, Prima scanned his surroundings, but there was no one there—only the unsettling, shifting shadows of his mind.

Then, a second voice rang out, cool and steady. “What is the meaning of this outburst, Megatronus?” It was his own voice, but… different. Older, wiser, carrying a tone he hadn’t yet grown into. Prima’s spark throbbed in confusion. Was he hearing a future version of himself?

“Yeah, that was my thought too,” the voice of Megatronus snarled, laced with bitterness. Prima felt frustration rising; he could hear every word of this strange conversation, yet he was blind to its source, unable to see anything but the dark, desolate landscape around him. Just then, a sudden metallic clang rang out, loud enough to shake his audio receptors. Prima froze, realizing it sounded like a clash—between him and Megatronus. But why?

Megatronus’s voice filled the void once more, but this time it was different, unsettling. “I’m sorry. I was feeling a little chaotic… maybe even a little… evil.”
Prima opened his mouth to shout, “Wait!” But before he could say another word, the ground beneath him split open, and he felt himself falling, tumbling into darkness.

He fell for what felt like an eternity, surrounded only by silence. It gave him time to think, yet his thoughts only grew more troubling. Could Megatronus betray him? He tried to shake off the feeling, clinging to the memory of his brother’s kindness. The Megatronus he knew would never act that way… would he?

Suddenly, the ground rushed up to meet him, and with a jarring impact, Prima landed, his thoughts scattering on impact. Groaning, he pushed himself up, dazed and aching, surprised he had survived the fall. As his optics adjusted, he realized he was no longer on the desolate planet—he was back at the Well of All Sparks, the place where he’d first awakened.

In awe, Prima looked around, his derma parting in astonishment as he took in the sight. All around him floated eleven glowing sparks, each one radiant with its own unique color and brightness. The sight filled his spark with hope and purpose; these would be the ones he would eventually awaken.

“These are the ones you will bring to life at the end of your mission, Prima,” a voice said, gentle yet commanding. Prima immediately recognized it—it was Primus himself.

“Primus, I have a question—” Prima began, but Primus cut him off.

“I cannot explain the context of the vision you just witnessed,” Primus said calmly. Prima turned toward the radiant spark that was the source of Primus’s voice, frustration twisting within him.

“Then why show it to me at all?” Prima asked, his tone edged with confusion and worry. “Was it a dream or… a vision?”

Primus’s voice was quiet for a moment, then replied, “It is a hint of what is to come. You must interpret it for yourself.”

Before Prima could protest, everything went black again, leaving him in silence.

(Present day in the AllSpark)

I glanced around the table. Everyone was silent, and understandably so. I noticed Megatronus, who was no longer staring at the energon table but instead at Prima. Prima, for his part, was doing his best to act as though what I'd just shared hadn’t affected him. Even Megatron was quiet, seemingly invested. For a moment, I assumed I could continue without interruption. I was certainly wrong.

“Prima?” Vector spoke up, his voice tentative as he leaned closer to him. Prima stayed silent, refusing to break his composure or acknowledge the attention.
Suddenly, Megatronus slammed his fist against the energon table, making it shake violently. “You had a vision!” he yelled, a mixture of anger and disbelief in his voice. "FRAG! You could have saved us all, you know!” He took a step back, his expression a storm of fury. “You microchip moron! HOW COULD YOU CLAIM TO BE SO RIGHT AND INTERPRET A VISION SO WRONG?!”

Megatronus’s vents were heaving as he clenched his digits, his anger boiling over. I glanced at Prima, hoping he’d say something before I’d have to intervene. Prima looked up, meeting Megatronus’s intense glare with a sorrowful, almost apologetic gaze. The look took Megatronus by surprise. Prima had never looked at him like that—not even in death.

“You would not understand,” Prima said softly, turning away and closing his optics.

“That’s it? That’s your fragging reason?” Megatronus’s response was laced with frustration. I raised my servo, signaling him to stop.
“Go calm yourself, Megatronus,” I said firmly. He looked ready to argue but thought better of it as I dismissed him from the table. “We’ll take a break from the story for now.”

I glanced over at Megatron, who sat on the far end. Thankfully, he hadn’t caused a scene this time.

“Damn, that’s some drama,” Megatron said with a raised optic ridge. I, along with the other Primes—excluding Prima and Maximo—shot him a warning glare.

Notes:

Do tell me how you are liking the story so far! and what you think will happen :)

Chapter 6: Side By Side Forever

Summary:

Prima flinched at the words, “big brother,” and for the briefest of moments, a flicker of the vision he’d had—fractured and ominous—flashed across his mind. He shook it off with a forceful swipe of his servo, brushing away the memory, and shot a wry look at Megatronus. In a smooth, practiced motion, he reached over and lightly smacked the back of Megatronus’s helm. Prima turned back to Megatronus, scoffing. “Ok, genius. Just try not to mess up,” he muttered, before turning away and striding forward with purpose, the Matrix guiding him down the rocky path. Megatronus rolled his optics, falling into step behind him. Their pedes echoed against the metallic ground, a rhythmic sound that pulsed through the eerie silence.

Prima turned his helm to meet Megatronus’s gaze, his venting slowing as he steadied himself. A glimmer of recognition returned to his optics as he regained awareness of the present. Lifting his servo, Prima placed it over Megatronus’, a subtle reassurance. “I’m fine, Megatronus,” he murmured, his tone controlled but distant. Shifting to face his brother fully, he brushed the other’s servo away gently. “Just…a dream. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Megatronus tilted his helm slightly, a faint expression of regret crossing his face. “I was awake, anyway,” he admitted, lifting a servo to rub the back of his helm in what looked like embarrassment. “I should’ve known you were… troubled. I’m just—terrible at reading these things.”

Prima, however, seemed too absorbed in the echoes of the dream to even notice the discomfort in Megatronus’s tone. There was a deepness in his gaze, something unreadable, as though he stood on the edge of a vision too heavy to comprehend. Megatronus saw this, his concern growing. He leaned in closer.
“Prima… are you certain you’re alright?”

“I’m fine, Megatronus,” Prima replied, his words curt, though his tone was anything but settled. Something dark and heavy lay beneath, but he held it close, guarded, impenetrable. Megatronus considered pressing further but decided against it, feeling that pushing would only worsen his brother’s unease.

After a brief silence, Megatronus attempted to lighten the atmosphere, his voice taking on a smug, playful tone. “You ready to get moving, then? You did promise once you woke up.”

A faint glint of a smirk crossed Prima’s faceplate. “Oh? You don’t think I’m capable?” he replied, playfully nudging Megatronus’s arm. The faint hint of humor softened his expression, though the shadows of his dream still lingered in his optics.

Megatronus sighed, a breath of relief escaping as he watched Prima’s mood lift—if only slightly. “Alright then, big brother, get a move on,” he teased, nudging him back with a hint of laughter.

Prima flinched at the words, “big brother,” and for the briefest of moments, a flicker of the vision he’d had—fractured and ominous—flashed across his mind. He shook it off with a forceful swipe of his servo, brushing away the memory, and shot a wry look at Megatronus. In a smooth, practiced motion, he reached over and lightly smacked the back of Megatronus’s helm. Prima turned back to Megatronus, scoffing. “Ok, genius. Just try not to mess up,” he muttered, before turning away and striding forward with purpose, the Matrix guiding him down the rocky path. Megatronus rolled his optics, falling into step behind him. Their pedes echoed against the metallic ground, a rhythmic sound that pulsed through the eerie silence.

…

After what felt like endless cycles, Megatronus’s instincts started to scream at him, a prickling unease winding through his circuits. His optics darted around, but all he saw was a sheer cliff to the right and a towering mountain wall to the left. He narrowed his optics, casting a glance toward Prima, who was further ahead, striding with calm purpose as though he sensed nothing.

But Megatronus’s battle instincts were flaring. He surged forward, quickening his pace until he was level with Prima. Reaching out, he grabbed his brother’s servo, halting them both.

“Do you sense that?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Prima turned his helm, optics scanning the rocky landscape. “I don’t think—”

A sharp, metallic snarl sliced through the silence, echoing from above. Both turned sharply toward the source, optics narrowing in unison. Down the mountain, a pack of massive, mechanical beasts—eighty at least—came barreling toward them, red optics gleaming with feral hunger, powerful frames tearing up rocks and debris as they descended. Their snarls grew louder, a metallic cacophony that filled the air.

“What the hell are these things?” Megatronus hissed, his arm shifting and reforming into a cannon, crackling with charged energy.

Prima’s optics darted from one creature to the next, his fists clenching as he took in their monstrous forms. “I have no idea!” He exhaled sharply. “I’ll try asking Primus later!”

A smirk twisted Megatronus’s faceplate. “We might not be around for that if you don’t hold up your end.”

“Let’s just get this done,” Prima snapped, positioning himself as the beasts closed in.

The first creature lunged, razor-sharp claws swiping for Megatronus’s helm. He sidestepped swiftly, leveling his cannon and firing off a powerful shot that struck the beast in its shoulder, sending it reeling backward with a roar of rage. Another creature followed, and then another, each moving with a relentless, frenzied determination.

Prima charged into the fray, fists flying as he met the beasts head-on. One lunged at him, jaws snapping, but he drove his fist straight into its open maw, shattering metal teeth and forcing its head back with sheer force. Another beast swung its massive claws at him, but he twisted, ducking low before ramming his fist upward into its chest, sending it sprawling back into the others. Sparks flew as he fought, each punch carrying the power and precision of a warrior born for battle.

Meanwhile, Megatronus’s cannon roared as he fired blast after blast, clearing the creatures around him with brutal efficiency. One particularly agile beast dodged his shot, pouncing at him with a vicious snarl. Reacting instantly, Megatronus sidestepped, his free hand snapping out to grab the creature by its neck. With a swift, ruthless motion, he hurled it into the ground, slamming his cannon into its chassis and firing point-blank, reducing it to smoldering parts.

They fought back-to-back, covering each other’s weaknesses with a practiced ease. Prima moved like liquid steel, slipping between the beasts’ attacks, landing devastating strikes on each that dared get too close. At one point, a pair of creatures tried to flank him, but he countered swiftly, catching one with an uppercut and spinning to deliver a crushing blow to the second. He glanced over his shoulder at Megatronus, who was grappling with a massive creature trying to sink its claws into his chest.

“Megatronus!” Prima called, “Could use some of that cannon power over here!”

Megatronus grinned, sidestepping just enough to free his cannon arm. He aimed at the creature attempting to double up on Prima and fired a concentrated blast that sent it sprawling backward in a shower of sparks. “You’re welcome,” he said with a smirk.

“Focus!” Prima barked, though a hint of gratitude softened his tone.

More beasts surged forward, relentless and unyielding, their numbers seemingly endless. One managed to sink its claws into Prima’s armor, tearing through the plating of his shoulder. With a growl, he twisted around, grabbing the creature’s limb and wrenching it from its socket before driving his fist through its spark casing, reducing it to a lifeless husk.

Around them, the battlefield was littered with the remains of their enemies, but the creatures showed no sign of retreat. Megatronus took a few steps back, his vents heaving as he readied another blast, charging up his cannon. “Prima, these things just keep coming. There’s no end to them!”

Prima’s optics flickered with frustration as he surveyed the oncoming horde. “Then we’ll make our own end!” He lunged forward, aiming for the cluster of beasts closest to him, fists swinging with renewed fury.

In sync, Megatronus followed, the blast from his cannon taking out a line of creatures in one powerful shot. They pressed forward together, carving a path through the mass of metal and claws. But the beasts kept coming, piling in from all directions, until they were surrounded once again.

Breathing heavily, Prima met Megatronus’s gaze, determination flaring in his optics. “We will most likely one day fight worse battles than this,” he said, his tone low and unyielding. “Let end this one here and now, at least this pack.”

Megatronus’s smirk returned, though his optics were sharp, calculating. “Right behind you, brother.”

With a surge of newfound energy, they launched into one last assault. Megatronus fired his cannon in controlled bursts, each shot clearing a swath of enemies while Prima drove his fists into any creature that got too close, every punch leaving a dent or sending pieces of metal flying. The beasts fell, one after another, until the final straggler hesitated, seeming to reconsider its approach.

Prima took a step forward, his optics narrowed. “Still want to try us?”

The creature backed away slowly, its optics flickering with a faint spark of fear before it turned and bolted, disappearing into the shadows of the mountain.
As the silence returned, Prima and Megatronus stood amid the wreckage of their battle, vents heaving. Megatronus lowered his cannon, giving Prima a weary but satisfied nod.

“Not bad, for a dream-rattled genius,” he muttered, amusement threading his tone.

Prima chuckled, brushing the dust from his armor. “And not bad for a reckless cannon-wielder.”

As the last creature fled into the shadows, Prima and Megatronus stood together, their frames battered and vents heaving from the battle. The silence returned, thick and pressing in the aftermath of the fight. Megatronus lowered his cannon, casting a weary but triumphant glance at his brother.

They shared a rare, quiet moment of camaraderie, but the stillness didn’t last long. Prima took a step back, turning to resume their path—but as his pede met the ground, the cliff edge crumbled beneath him. His optics widened as he staggered, the ground breaking away faster than he could catch his balance. In a sudden lurch, he slipped, the weight of his frame sending him sliding toward the edge.

“Prima!” Megatronus yelled, lunging forward with all the speed he could muster. Without a second’s hesitation, he dropped his cannon form and stretched out his servo, gripping Prima’s arm just before he could plummet over the edge.

Prima’s optics flickered with shock as he dangled over the abyss, his servo clutching tightly to Megatronus’s. His vents stuttered as he tried to catch his breath, his weight straining against the grip. The sheer drop below stretched out endlessly, dark and foreboding.

Megatronus clenched his jaw, pulling with every ounce of strength in his frame. "Don’t you dare let go, you hear me?" he growled, his tone fierce and laced with uncharacteristic worry.

Prima nodded, his optics flashing with determination, though he gritted his denta as he tried to hoist himself up with Megatronus’s help. “I didn’t plan on it.”
With one final surge, Megatronus hauled him up and over the edge. Prima staggered forward, collapsing onto the solid ground, his vents heaving in relief as he realized how close he had come to falling.

Megatronus released a sharp vent, letting out the tension he’d been holding in. But instead of stepping back, he moved closer and pulled Prima into a strong embrace, his arm wrapped securely around his shoulders. It was more than a typical brotherly gesture—there was a fierce protectiveness in it, a silent reassurance.

Prima, slightly surprised, let out a soft chuckle as he returned the embrace, patting Megatronus’s shoulder in gratitude. “Didn’t think you’d be the type for a hug.”

Megatronus rolled his optics, pulling back with a hint of amusement. “Don’t get used to it. You just scared the scrap out of me.”

Prima laughed, standing up fully as he caught his breath. “I’ll try to avoid any more close calls, for your sake.”

Megatronus gave him a light shove, shaking his helm with a wry smile. “Good. I need you around, even if you’re a bit too fond of risking your aft.”

They shared a moment of silent understanding, a bond stronger than words. Finally, Prima straightened, casting one last glance back at the cliff edge, then turned to the path ahead.

Megatronus clapped him on the back, more gently this time. “Let’s keep moving, brother. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Prima nodded, a faint smirk playing on his faceplate as he set his optics forward.

(Present Day in the allspark)

Alchemist exhaled in relief, his optics bright with a sense of narrowly avoided disaster. "That was a close one, Prima. A little too close, actually."

Micronus gave a nod, turning to Prima with a bemused expression. "Agreed! How did you even almost fall like that?" His voice held a teasing edge, but he was genuinely curious, given Prima’s usual control.

Prima let his optics drift shut, his face revealing none of his inner thoughts. "I miscalculated and forgot my own strength," he replied, voice low, the words tinged with a quiet frustration he didn’t elaborate on.

From across the chamber, Megatronus snorted, his tone cutting. "Miscalculated? How typical. Always so convinced you’re untouchable, aren’t you, Prima?" His optics held a sharp, unforgiving edge, the disdain clear.

Prima looked away, saying nothing. There was a flicker in his optics, something unspoken and almost sorrowful, but it faded quickly, masked by his usual stoic demeanor. He didn’t respond to Megatronus’s jab, leaving the words hanging in the air.

Solus, sitting nearby, cast a worried glance between the two of them. She seemed ready to say something but stopped herself, sensing the tension and choosing not to interfere.

Alchemist broke the silence with a hesitant smile, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "Hey, at least you saved Prima, Primus knows what would be of us if you didn’t haha..." His voice was reassuring, but it did little to lift the palpable tension.

Megatronus scoffed, folding his arms, his optics narrowed on Prima. "Maybe this time. But keep this up, and I won’t always be around to clean up after any of your mistakes."

Prima’s jaw tightened subtly, and he glanced at Megatronus with a brief, unreadable expression before turning away again, his regret hidden just below the surface. There was something unsaid in his optics, a weight that only he seemed to carry, but he made no attempt to voice it.

Micronus shifted awkwardly, exchanging a look with Alchemist. "Well, this just got… intense," he murmured, trying to break the silence.

But Prima remained quiet, his regret unspoken, and Megatronus’s gaze stayed cold. The silence stretched between them, thick and unyielding. I looked at Megatron who was making an annoyed face, I didn’t blame him, seeing one sided argument is disappointing, Megatron and I never had one sided arguments.
“You both need to figure out your exact problems with each other,” I said with zero hesitation.

Prima and Megatronus both looked at me at the same time and in unison said, “EXCUSE ME-”, Megatron was snickering quietly at my comment.

Notes:

I love Megatronus and Prima sm :(
(Optimus and Megs are such a vibe)

Chapter 7: What don't you understand?

Summary:

Megatronus watched him, puzzled. “Why do you ask?” he pressed, faintly unsettled by Prima’s quiet satisfaction.

Prima turned away, casting his optics over the planet stretching below them. “The Matrix hasn’t given this world a name. Nor its moons.” He took a few steps forward, continuing to speak as he moved, his voice nearly lost in the vastness around them. Megatronus followed, staying close.

“So,” Prima continued, “even though the planet is Primus himself, and the moons merely celestial bodies, I think they deserve their own names. Don’t you?”
Megatronus frowned, trying to understand. “A name doesn’t hold much meaning, does it?”

Prima paused, his optics serious as he met Megatronus’ uncertain gaze. “Would you rather be remembered as a planet’s moon—or as Luna, two of…Cybertron’s two bright moons?”

Megatronus stared back at him, the weight of those words sinking in. In that moment, he felt a clarity—a strange understanding of what Prima was trying to convey. Names gave meaning, gave identity. And in a universe as vast as theirs, those things mattered.

Notes:

I'd like to clarify two important facts about this fic:

1) The desgins of the Primes are a mix of Transformers One designs and The Covenant of Primus, for example Prima has a similar shape to TFOne design but with a white a blue glow/paint job he also has a mask that comes up in battle like Optimus'. As for Megatronus he looks more like his Conenant of Primus Design but his battle mask is like the one in TFOne.

2) I mentioned in earlier chapters that they were on a planet named cybertron but that was Optimus clarifing their location, the planet did not have a name yet at that time.

(Megatron’s POV)

I wasn’t sure what I was doing here. Exiling myself was supposed to take me far from all this… yet here I was, back among ghosts, the so-called legends of the Allspark. Every time I looked around, it felt like I was the only living being in this place—an intruder in a space reserved for the sanctified and deceased.

Strange, to say the least. The Primes themselves? Let’s just say they weren’t what I expected. Optimus, of course, is the same as always—predictable to the last, even in spirit form. But the rest? That was a surprise.

The biggest shock was seeing them act so… familiar with each other. Even toward Optimus, whom I assumed they barely knew, considering he joined their ranks after his death. They acted like a family, more or less, but there was plenty of chaos mixed in. That tension? That’s what caught my interest. Watching Prima and Megatronus' constant back-and-forth was almost… entertaining. Cybertronian history always portrayed them as rivals, each detesting the other’s existence, and from the looks of their interactions, I’d say the records weren’t far off. Still, there was something deeper, some tension that went beyond mere dislike. Even Optimus seemed determined to unravel that particular mystery, hinting that there was more to the story than anyone knew. Even he didn't know the whole picture, I’d bet.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued. The tale of the Primes was a tightly guarded piece of Cybertronian lore—locked in archives no common mech would dare to touch. Alpha Trion, who hadn’t even been created at the time, was the only one allowed to write it all down in that oversized tome of his, The Covenant of Primus. Trust the Primes to choose a pretentious name for it. But they clearly hid the darker parts—the fractures and flaws that no doubt threatened to tear them apart. And the longer I sat here, the more I saw it firsthand. It’s not like I was busy otherwise; exile has a way of dulling even the most vibrant rage. Sitting here, with no purpose except to wait and listen, I had little choice but to humor Optimus’s prophetic ramblings. Maybe he’d finally give me a reason for why I was here.

Every now and then, I’d look across the table at Optimus, who sat quietly on the other side, optics closed, retelling the story with that calm he wears like armor. Sure, I wanted to shout at him, to demand answers. Why am I here, of all places? But I’d already seen him silence Megatronus with just a look—didn’t seem wise to test his patience. But still… the way he sat with the Primes, how he spoke to them, almost like he was one of them—it was hard to ignore. I’d known him long before he became Prime, and never once did he mention fraternizing with Cybertronian legends. No… there was something he wasn’t saying. So, for now, I’d listen.

After all, Optimus rarely does anything without a purpose.

(Back to the story of the Primes)

Prima and Megatronus stood atop a towering metallic peak, gazing out over the vast, gleaming expanse below. The ground shimmered with radiant colors, reflecting the stars and moons that hung in Cybertron's sky, their surfaces alive with light. Prima’s finials leaned back slightly in awe, the quiet movement catching Megatronus' optics. He smirked, and without a thought, reached out to gently tug one of Prima’s finials.

“Oh?” Megatronus’s tone was teasing, soft yet mischievous. “I didn’t think these things could move. How did I never notice that before?”

Prima winced, swatting Megatronus' servo away. “Oh, shut up. Hardly anything interesting,” he muttered, crossing his arms as he looked back to the horizon. But a flicker of thought crossed his optics, and his finials rose slightly, betraying a deeper reflection.

“Megatronus,” he said at last, his voice taking on an edge of seriousness.

Megatronus, catching this, softened his smirk and dropped his servo. “What’s the matter?” he asked, his optics narrowing slightly with concern.
Prima turned fully to face him, his expression thoughtful. “If you were given the chance to name a moon, what would you choose?”

Megatronus blinked, caught off guard, and instinctively raised his servo to his face, buying a moment to think. “Why... why are you asking me that?”
Prima gave a quiet, almost knowing smile. “Just answer the question.”

Megatronus exhaled, glancing upward at the moons above—their pale, twin lights casting a cool glow over the landscape. It wasn’t something he’d ever imagined doing. Naming something? The thought felt foreign, distant.

After a moment, he lowered his servo, meeting Prima’s expectant gaze. “Perhaps... Luna,” he replied finally, his voice barely more than a murmur.
Prima’s optics brightened, a grin breaking his usual calm. “Luna…” he repeated with a soft nod of approval.

Megatronus watched him, puzzled. “Why do you ask?” he pressed, faintly unsettled by Prima’s quiet satisfaction.

Prima turned away, casting his optics over the planet stretching below them. “The Matrix hasn’t given this world a name. Nor its moons.” He took a few steps forward, continuing to speak as he moved, his voice nearly lost in the vastness around them. Megatronus followed, staying close.

“So,” Prima continued, “even though the planet is Primus himself, and the moons merely celestial bodies, I think they deserve their own names. Don’t you?”
Megatronus frowned, trying to understand. “A name doesn’t hold much meaning, does it?”

Prima paused, his optics serious as he met Megatronus’ uncertain gaze. “Would you rather be remembered as a planet’s moon—or as Luna, two of…Cybertron’s two bright moons?”

Megatronus stared back at him, the weight of those words sinking in. In that moment, he felt a clarity—a strange understanding of what Prima was trying to convey. Names gave meaning, gave identity. And in a universe as vast as theirs, those things mattered.

Megatronus gave a quiet nod, his servo pointing upward to the twin moons. “Then... Luna,” he said softly, before looking down toward the metallic surface. “And Cybertron.”

He turned to Prima, a smile breaking through his usual guarded expression. And to his surprise, Prima returned it.

Prima turned, casting one last glance at the shimmering landscape before striding forward. “We should keep moving—we’re almost there.” His tone was calm, but his pace steady, purposeful.

Megatronus fell in behind him, his footsteps echoing slightly heavier than Prima’s, the weight of his frame evident in each step. The sound of their pedes striking the metal ground seemed to fill the stillness around them, a quiet rhythm that marked their progress up the mountain path.

(Present Day in the Allspark, Prima’s POV)

I felt… tired. Tired of the weight, the secrets, and the long history that Optimus now retold in careful, unflinching detail. Perhaps nostalgia should have stirred in me as Optimus spoke of my earliest moments, but instead, a dull exhaustion settled in. And I knew one reason why.

Megatronus’s optics hadn’t left me, not for a single moment. I could feel the burn of his gaze, unyielding and intent, and it was not a comfortable sensation. He was waiting—waiting for me to say something, to explain something. But what was there to explain? The truth was unfolding, layer by layer, in Optimus’s recounting; soon enough, Megatronus would understand it all, even if it wasn't through my voice.

Part of me knew it was safer this way. Optimus was better suited to this task, his voice steady, his words as unbreakable as his beliefs. Still, a part of me recoiled at letting someone else, even Optimus, carry the weight of our truth. I found my optics locking onto Megatronus’ against my better judgment, and yet his expression remained as fixed as stone.

I feared how he might react. Already, Megatronus had lashed out once, barely contained as the retelling touched on fragments of our lives I knew would test him. The last thing any of us needed was for him to erupt again—especially with Liege Maximo sitting directly before him, waiting, no doubt, to prey on any shred of self-doubt or anger.

No one had needed to know. Now, there would be no going back. Soon, all would be laid bare before us. And I could only wait, a deep unease pooling within me, my thoughts shadowed by the knowledge of what was to come.

(Megatronus’ POV)

I was furious. Rage came naturally to a mech like me, simmering just below the surface at all times, but this—this was different. This anger was personal, clawing its way through my spark with a bitterness that couldn’t be ignored.

Prima and I had always been bound together, as if the Allspark itself had crafted us with the intent that one would forever stand against the other. He was older than me, only slightly, but that gap had been enough to make him the Prime among Primes, the one who would look down on the rest of us from a position of untouchable authority. Once, I respected him for it, maybe even looked up to him. Now? Now he was the most insufferable, closed-off mech I knew.

It grated at me, how he held himself apart, distant, as though his supposed closeness to Primus elevated him above us. Did he think he was better because he had once wielded the Matrix? Because he held to some shallow self-righteousness, so carefully guarded that he’d never risk a true connection? I chose to believe all of the above—at least, it was easier that way.

Optimus’s retelling was useful, I supposed, but it also felt like salt on an open wound. I wasn’t even sure I knew who Prima was anymore. He knew the truth—had known it all along, apparently. And yet he’d hidden it, even from me. We had continued our mission, side by side, while he kept that secret buried, his silence echoing louder than any admission.

If he had just admitted it, maybe I could be calm, maybe I could find some resolution. But no. Prima was too proud, too high and mighty to admit his flaws. He couldn’t possibly lower himself to own up to his mistakes, not even to his own brother. He was up his own aft with his supposed "holiness," blind to the cost of his silence.

And I was left here, the burden of his secrets resting on my shoulders unopened, carrying whatever darkness he hid while he sat, unscathed.

(Back to the story)

After what felt like an eternity of climbing, Prima and Megatronus stood before the entrance to a foreboding cave. Razor-sharp spikes lined every crevice and corner, glinting menacingly in the dim light—a silent threat to any mech who dared to cross its threshold. The oppressive air around it was heavy, almost humming with something ancient and unwelcoming. Prima and Megatronus exchanged a glance, unease flickering between them. They both knew they had to go inside to reach the Allspark, but the ease of it all felt like an illusion, a trick waiting to spring.

Prima thought back to Primus’s warning, the weight of his creator’s words clear even now. It had been more than just instructions—there had been a heaviness, a caution that told him this journey was fraught with unknown dangers. Despite his own doubts, Prima turned to Megatronus, placing a firm, reassuring servo on his shoulder pad. He offered a nod, a signal that they would face whatever lay within together. But just as they took their first step forward, a familiar, chilling sound echoed from behind.

They spun around to see the same monstrous creatures they’d faced before—hulking forms, all metal, claws, and jagged edges. Their eyes gleamed with a feral hunger, and they moved with a nightmarish coordination, almost as if they’d been waiting.

Prima sighed, the weariness of the journey seeping into his tone. “Oh, Primus—not you things again,” he muttered, tensing as he prepared himself for another battle.

Chapter 8: The Cave of Change

Summary:

Prima opened his mouth, ready to demand an explanation, but Megatronus silenced him with a raised servo. “There’s something… different about these ones,” Megatronus murmured, his optics narrowing as he studied the metallic creatures advancing on them.

Prima’s optic ridge arched skeptically as he tugged against Megatronus' grip. “They look the same to me,” he replied, gaze flicking back to the approaching creatures. But Megatronus just shook his helm and then, in a sudden motion, stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the monsters entirely.

Megatronus’ servos shifted up to grip Prima's shoulder pads, his dark optics meeting Prima’s in a rare, searching gaze. A strange softness passed over Megatronus' expression as he let out a sigh, and an uncharacteristic, almost tender smile played at the edges of his faceplate. “That means,” he said quietly, “I won’t regret this.”

Prima's servos clenched, each digit curling tightly into a fist as a surge of tension rolled through his frame. His finials stiffened, rising higher than usual, and his posture straightened, every part of him ready for action. But before he could make a move, he felt a firm grip on his arm. He turned to see Megatronus, his helm angled toward him with a quiet, serious intensity.

Prima opened his mouth, ready to demand an explanation, but Megatronus silenced him with a raised servo. “There’s something… different about these ones,” Megatronus murmured, his optics narrowing as he studied the metallic creatures advancing on them.

Prima’s optic ridge arched skeptically as he tugged against Megatronus' grip. “They look the same to me,” he replied, gaze flicking back to the approaching creatures. But Megatronus just shook his helm and then, in a sudden motion, stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the monsters entirely.

Megatronus’ servos shifted up to grip Prima's shoulder pads, his dark optics meeting Prima’s in a rare, searching gaze. A strange softness passed over Megatronus' expression as he let out a sigh, and an uncharacteristic, almost tender smile played at the edges of his faceplate. “That means,” he said quietly, “I won’t regret this.”

Prima’s optics widened as he opened his intake to respond. “What do you—” he began, confusion lacing his voice. But before he could finish, Megatronus shoved him—hard. Prima staggered back, unbalanced by the unexpected force, only to feel the ground drop away beneath him. He was falling.

Shock pulsed through his frame as he plummeted, the realization striking him like a bolt of lightning. There was a cliff behind him. In this cave, a hidden, treacherous cliff, and Megatronus had sent him over it.

As he tumbled, Prima's optics caught one last glimpse of Megatronus’ silhouette above, his form fading into shadow as the distance between them widened. His processor spun, both from the fall and the wave of emotions rushing over him. He wanted to yell, to demand why Megatronus would do such a thing—but he was too far gone, and the ground below was rushing up to meet him.

Prima’s only choice was to hope, hope that somehow he’d survive the fall. But as he hurtled downward, optics trained on the growing blue light beneath him, he realized with a jolt—there was no solid ground below. Instead, he was falling toward a river of energon, its shimmering, translucent surface glowing with an ethereal radiance in the darkness.

A shiver ran through him. He knew all too well that a plunge into raw energon could hurt just as much as Cybertron’s unforgiving metallic ground. His frame shifted instinctively, aligning his pedes beneath him, adjusting his descent so that he’d make impact in the safest position he could manage. Every servo and strut tightened as he prepared for the plunge, his optics squeezing shut in tense anticipation.

The air grew thick around him as he neared the surface, and he braced, braced hard, right as his pedes plunged into the river.

…

Megatronus was beginning to regret shoving Prima off that cliff. Not because he needed the extra servo fighting off these creatures with talons like razors and horns like spears; his worries ran deeper. What would Prima find at the bottom of that chasm? Was there safety there, or had he just sent his brother into the unknown, helpless? He could only hope Primus himself would shield Prima from the impact.

“Me...ga...tron...us...”

The faint echo of his name reached him from the depths. He staggered, nearly forgetting the cliff’s edge behind him and took a few quick steps forward. But something else caught his attention—a realization that made his core sink. The creatures were no longer charging at him. Every other encounter he’d had with them, they’d been relentless, attacking with a viciousness that left no room for hesitation. But now, they were watching him, motionless, a silent mass of shadows and talons.

Then, a chilling sound broke the silence. Laughter.

Megatronus spun around, his optics blazing. Were they...laughing?

"Primus is a fool. These are nothing but lesser versions of himself,” came a mocking voice from somewhere among the shadows.

He felt a surge of anger ignite in his spark. How dare they? These things dared to insult Primus, to insult him, and they didn’t even have the courage to show themselves. He glared at the creatures in front of him, scanning for the one that spoke.

“Who are you?” he bellowed, his voice resonating through the cave as frustration boiled over into fury. His cannon arm charged up, glowing with a fierce, red-hot energy that cast a bloody light across the shadows. The laughter stopped.

"Fei...sty one, aren’t y...ou?” the voice slithered back, unfazed. Megatronus clenched his fists, rage curling through his circuits. He’d rather fight them head-on than endure this mockery.
The voice lowered, cold and calculated. “Too bad the other one is the one we’re after. Perhaps you might still prove useful."

Megatronus froze. The other one? They were after Prima. It all clicked, sharper than a blade. That’s why Prima had been under siege when they first crossed paths; he’d been their target all along.
A loud splash echoed from the depths below. Megatronus’ optics narrowed as he processed the sound—Prima had landed in an energon river. Relief washed over him, swift and undeniable, grounding him in the moment. His gaze snapped back to the creatures before him, and his cannon hummed to life with renewed energy.

"Sorry to cut this little chat short," he sneered, his smile anything but apologetic, "but I have a brother to catch up to."

Without hesitation, Megatronus lunged forward, cannon blazing as he charged at the snarling creatures. They hissed in response, shadows shifting with menace, but he was done with their games. He would clear the path—nothing would stand between him and reaching Prima.

…

Prima struggled against the pull of the energon river, its thick, viscous currents dragging him deeper with every passing moment. He clenched his servos, kicking against the flow as best he could, but it was unlike anything he’d faced before—strong, relentless, and charged with raw energy that rattled his frame with each movement.

He managed to surface briefly, taking in a shuddering vent as he glanced around for a way out. The jagged metallic cliffs loomed above him, slick with energon runoff, and escape seemed impossible. But he couldn't afford to stay in the river; even his frame, as resilient as it was, couldn’t withstand this current for long.

Prima felt the energon river pull him faster, and before he could regain his balance, the current surged, sending him over the edge of a steep drop. He barely had time to brace himself as he plummeted down the roaring cascade, helpless to control his descent. The river twisted around him in dizzying spirals, the sounds of rushing energon filling his audials.

With a final, jarring impact, Prima crashed onto a hard, metallic surface, his frame aching as he struggled to push himself upright. His optics flickered back to full brightness, and he took in his surroundings, blinking in confusion.

He was in a massive, cavernous chamber at the base of the waterfall, and three immense metallic doors loomed before him. Each door bore distinct colors, almost like a calling or a test of some kind. The door to his left was bright and regal, adorned in white and gold—a symbol of purity, perhaps, or something even more elusive and sacred. To his right stood a door clad in black and red, ominous and fierce, almost pulsing with an underlying threat. And directly ahead was a third door, veiled in silver and purple, reflecting a cold, inscrutable energy.

Catching his breath, Prima's finials twitched as he surveyed the doors. Each one seemed to radiate a subtle power, a silent challenge, beckoning him forward, though he couldn't quite understand why or what lay beyond them. Was this another part of Primus’s test, or something deeper, connected to the secrets of the Allspark?

He staggered to his pedes, still recovering from the fall, but his resolve was unshaken. His instincts told him he had to make a choice—one of these doors would lead him closer to his path, to his purpose. But he couldn’t shake a gnawing sensation of dread. Each door, in its own way, seemed to conceal a trial or revelation he might not be ready to face.

Taking a steadying vent, Prima glanced back at the rushing waterfall, but there was no way to ascend back up, no returning the way he came. Whatever path he chose, he would have to commit to it.
“Which one…” he murmured to himself, optics narrowing as he weighed his options.

Prima hesitated as his servo pressed against the cool, polished surface of the white and gold door. The colors mirrored his own armor, a comforting reflection of the ideals he’d always lived by—purity, protection, light. Yet as his fingers lingered there, a strange, hollow sensation washed over him, chilling him down to his spark.

This path was wrong. Whatever was behind this door held no answers for him, no closer connection to his mission or to Primus’s will. With a reluctant sigh, he withdrew his hand, stepping back to survey the remaining options.

Turning his optics to the center door—silver and purple—he felt an unsettling energy radiate from its surface. The colors were colder, darker, and seemed to pulse with a silent threat. Yet he knew he had to be sure. Steeling himself, he reached out, pressing his servo against the silver and purple door.

The reaction was immediate. A jolt of intense pain tore through his frame, searing circuits he didn’t know could feel such agony. Prima’s entire system went rigid as his spark flickered, a harsh wave of despair and darkness flooding his mind. Memories, both his own and alien, crashed over him—a twisted, chaotic blend of regret, fear, and anguish that clawed at his processor. His knees buckled, and he barely managed to pull his hand away, stumbling back as he tried to regain his focus.

Panting, Prima felt his grip on reality gradually stabilize, the echoes of pain subsiding enough for him to stand again. Clearly, this door was a trap—a path he was neither meant to tread nor endure.
That left only one.

The black and red door was ominous, but now it seemed almost welcoming compared to the others. Its bold, unyielding colors mirrored something deep within himself—strength, conviction, resolve. Swallowing hard, Prima stepped forward, his servos flexing as he summoned the courage to place his hand upon the door.

This time, there was no immediate resistance. Instead, a subtle warmth spread through his servos and up his arm, grounding him. It was as if the door recognized his intent, aligning itself with his purpose. He took a deep vent, feeling a weight lift from his frame.

Slowly, the door groaned and began to shift open, revealing a dim corridor ahead, barely lit by the crimson glow of ancient, forgotten lights. The air felt thick, heavy with the mysteries he was about to confront—but something inside told him this was the way forward.

…

The ground trembled beneath Megatronus, metallic plates creaking and groaning as fractures splintered outward from where he stood. He barely had a moment to realize his misstep, the ground crumbling beneath his pedes, leaving nothing but open air below. His spark surged with alarm, but he held his gaze steady, even as gravity pulled him down into the abyss.

He’d fought without restraint, each strike with the creatures more furious, more reckless. He had hoped the fierce movements would shake the lingering memories of Prima’s fall, but the memory haunted him still, its weight more crushing than any battle. Without Prima’s presence to anchor him, to lend him a sense of control and stability, he felt raw, unbalanced. It was as if he were waging war not only on the creatures but on his own doubts and fears.

As he fell, he braced himself, calling upon every ounce of his resilience.

Megatronus grunted as he hit the ground, the impact jolting through his frame. He looked around, optic sensors adjusting to the dim, cold surroundings. The silence was oppressive, thick as the metallic walls that enclosed him, pressing down from every angle. It was as if he had fallen into a cage, a place where the air itself seemed stale and heavy, refusing to fill his intakes fully. There were no doors, no paths in sight—only seamless walls, as if he’d been dropped into a hollow metal prison crafted specifically to contain him.

He ran his servos along the cold walls, feeling every groove, every panel, searching for any weakness or opening. His frustration mounted as each touch revealed nothing but cold, unforgiving steel. He clenched his fists, circuits buzzing with impatience, with anger. How could he have fallen into this trap, into this suffocating confinement?

It didn’t feel right. The walls seemed to close in more with each passing moment, mocking him. He was trapped, and yet…he felt eyes on him. Invisible, unrelenting, as if some unseen force observed his every move, measuring his desperation, his strength, his limits. The feeling burned through him, setting his circuits alight. He was Megatronus—trapped, yes, but not defeated. Not yet.

A sudden noise echoed from above, a subtle creak that sent a shiver down his frame. His optics snapped upward. The ceiling was close enough to feel claustrophobic, as though it could drop at any moment and crush him. Was this part of his trial? Some twisted test from Primus? He vented sharply, pushing down the thought, unwilling to let himself feel like a pawn. His loyalty was true, but he was too angry to think straight.

Then he heard it—a faint voice, like a mocking metallic voice in the back of his processor.

"You think yourself strong, yet even a cage can break you."

He snarled, the words igniting his defiance. He slammed a fist against the wall, hard enough to send vibrations through the metal. He didn’t need reassurance or encouragement; he would break free with his own strength, his own determination. Megatronus was no mere prisoner, and if there was no way out, then he would make one.

He planted his feet and prepared his cannon arm, charging it with a low, menacing hum. If he had to tear through every inch of metal around him, he would do it. He refused to be caged, refused to let anyone dictate his fate.

With a fierce cry, he unleashed a blast from his cannon, sending sparks and debris flying.

(Present Day, In the Allspark)

“This place,” Alchemist said, his voice full of wonder as he leaned forward, studying the ethereal glow that filled the room. “It feels almost...alive, doesn’t it?”

All the Primes, and Megatron, looked around the ‘room’ which was a hologram of the cave I was describing.

Alpha Trion nodded, his optics softening in thought. “It does, indeed. There is something about this place that resonates with a deeper, forgotten power. It seems to hum with the energy of eons past.”

The room fell quiet as the Primes absorbed the significance of the moment. There, around the shimmering energon table, the group’s thoughts seemed to stretch beyond time itself.

Amalgamous, ever animated, fidgeted in his seat, his limbs shifting restlessly. His usual enthusiasm was tempered by a sense of anticipation. “I’ve been to many places, but this one feels...different,” he muttered, barely containing his excitement.

“Different? Or just older than you, Amalgamous?” Liege Maximo’s sharp tone cut through the air, his usual sneer creeping onto his face. “You’d think you'd learn to keep your mouth shut for once.”
Solus shot him a disapproving glance. “Liege, your words serve no purpose. Can we not simply appreciate the moment?” She turned to the others, her expression softening. “This place carries significance—how could we not feel it?”

As the others exchanged quiet words, Prima couldn’t help but feel the weight of the moment settle over him. Even in this strange realm, amidst all the ancient energy of the Allspark, there was a heaviness to his thoughts, and it wasn’t only the power of the Allspark itself.

His optics flicked briefly to Megatronus, seated across the table. There was a subtle tension in the air, like a storm about to break. Despite the shared history they had, the distance between them had never been greater. Prima had always prided himself on doing what was right—protecting others, upholding the ideals of honor and duty. And yet, Megatronus... Megatronus had taken a different path.

Prima turned his gaze away, but not before catching the brief flicker of emotion in Megatronus' optics—something unreadable, something deeply conflicting. His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of Micronus, tiny in size but always brimming with friendly energy beginning to change the topic, referring to the allspark in which we resided in.

“Isn’t it strange,” Micronus chirped, his optics twinkling, “how we all end up here, together, even after everything that’s happened?”

Prima forced a small smile, though his spark felt heavy. “It is strange,” he murmured, “but perhaps...this is where we’re meant to be.”

Megatronus, his tone darker than usual, interjected. “Meant to be?” His voice was laced with frustration, as though the words alone were like a spark igniting an internal fire. “Or are we simply the result of some twisted plan that none of us understand?”

Prima's optics snapped back to Megatronus, a mixture of surprise and irritation flickering in his gaze. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, his voice calm but with an edge.

Megatronus met his gaze, a cold fire burning in his optics. “You always act as if you know what’s best for everyone, Prima,” he said, his voice low and cutting. “You pretend that you’re the beacon of righteousness when, in reality, we’ve all been forced into this... whatever it is. And you still hold that ridiculous sense of superiority over me, over all of us.”

Prima flinched slightly, though he didn't back down. “That’s not true,” he said, his voice firm but the sting of his words betrayed the emotion beneath. “I’ve never considered myself superior. But I will always fight for what’s right. I will always protect others.”

Megatronus scoffed, shaking his helm. “And look where it’s gotten us,” he muttered, his tone bitter. “You protect the weak, but in doing so, you’ve become blind to everything else.”

The room grew heavier with the weight of Megatronus' words. Even as the tension in the air seemed to thicken, the other Primes remained quiet, knowing that anything they said now would only add fuel to the fire.

Alpha Trion, his wise optics scanning the two of them, finally spoke. “Megatronus,” he began, his voice calm yet firm, “Prima’s path may be different from yours, but that doesn’t make it any less valid. You both are burdened with responsibilities that no one should bear alone.”

Megatronus sneered, his optics narrowing in defiance. “I never asked for anyone’s help. I never asked for this... to be seen as the failure.”

Prima’s expression softened at the sight of Megatronus' internal struggle. He wanted to say something, to bridge the chasm between them, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he sat back, letting the silence stretch between them like a vast, impossible distance.

“I’m not your enemy,” Prima said quietly, his voice barely a whisper. “I never was.”

Megatronus didn’t respond. The tension in the air seemed to settle into a quiet, heavy acceptance, as if neither was willing—or able—to break through the walls they had built around each other.
And as the Primes continued to sit around the energon table, each of them lost in their thoughts, it was clear: while the Allspark hummed with ancient power, the unresolved conflict between Prima and Megatronus remained as palpable as ever.

A warmth settled over me, and I instinctively twitched, looking up. To my surprise, Megatron had left his seat and was now standing beside me. Without a word, he leaned down to my audio receiver, his voice low but sharp. “They always know how to make everything about themselves... like, what about the cave?”

I couldn’t suppress a slight roll of my optics, my lips curling into a small, amused smile as I gently pushed him away. He looked at me for a moment, studying my faceplate, as though trying to read something between the lines of my expression.

“You—”

Before he could finish, a voice cut through the air, sharp and mocking. “Sit your ugly aft down, I want Optimus to finish the story already!” Liege Maximo’s words rang out with an air of finality, his tone dripping with disdain. Megatron’s posture stiffened, and for a fleeting moment, I thought he might strike Maximo where he sat.

But before the inevitable confrontation could ignite, Solus and Micronus both erupted in unison, their voices full of exasperation and warning. “MAXIMO!”

Notes:

These Primes have no communication between eachother at all, sigh

Chapter 9: A battle with Oneself

Summary:

The cavern shifted as he advanced. The walls seemed to twist and writhe, forming a maze of narrow passages. The dim light of the energon veins was barely enough to guide his way, and the air grew colder with each step.

Prima’s spark pulsed uneasily. This part of the trial wasn’t physical—it was psychological. The labyrinth whispered to him. Faint voices echoed through the passages, their tones accusatory and cruel.
“Why do you continue?” one voice hissed.

“You are not worthy,” another sneered.

“Cybertron’s ruin will be your fault,” a third accused.

Prima clenched his servos, his optics narrowing. “I am not here for your approval,” he growled, his voice echoing back at him. He forced himself to focus, to push forward, even as the whispers grew louder, each one pressing on his spark like a vice.

The passages twisted further, and he found himself at dead end after dead end. His frustration mounted, but he refused to give in. He paused, closing his optics. The labyrinth thrived on his doubt, and he wouldn’t give it that power.

Prima stepped through the red-black door, and the light from the chamber behind him faded, leaving only dim glimmers of energon veins coursing along the cavern walls. The air was heavy, almost electric, as though charged with an ancient energy that pulsed in time with his spark. His servos remained clenched, his posture upright. He wasn’t just walking into the unknown—he was stepping into a crucible, a trial meant to test every fiber of his being.

He moved forward carefully, his pedes echoing against the metallic floor. The cavern began to expand, the walls curving away to reveal a space so vast it seemed to defy logic. Above him, stalactites hung like jagged teeth, and below, a deep chasm revealed an endless void glowing faintly with the hum of energy.

His first challenge arrived without warning.

…

From the walls of the cavern emerged constructs made of gleaming metal, their frames pulsing with the same golden energy that coursed through the Allspark chamber. They were humanoid in shape but towered over Prima, their optics glowing cold and unfeeling. They moved in unison, their movements precise and mechanical.

Prima squared his shoulders, his finials twitching as he analyzed the situation. There were three of them, each armed with a spear-like weapon crackling with energy. Their silent approach was unnerving.

Without waiting for them to strike first, Prima charged forward. He didn’t have a blade—his fists and his wits were his weapons. The first construct thrust its spear toward him, and he sidestepped, the crackling energy barely missing his frame. Prima used the momentum of his dodge to spin and land a powerful punch to the construct’s chestplate. The impact sent a ripple through the construct, staggering it but not bringing it down.

The other two attacked in tandem, their spears sweeping toward him like synchronized predators. Prima dropped to the ground, his pedes skidding as he evaded the strike, and then he sprang upward, landing an uppercut to one construct’s helm. Sparks flew as it stumbled backward, its optics flickering.

The third construct aimed its spear at Prima’s back. He twisted just in time, grabbing the shaft of the weapon and yanking it free from its wielder. Using the spear’s energy to his advantage, he swept it in a wide arc, striking both remaining constructs. The energy discharged on contact, sending them crashing to the ground in a heap of sparking parts.

Panting, Prima dropped the spear. His servos ached from the exertion, but he couldn’t linger. The constructs weren’t the main trial—just a prelude.

…

The cavern shifted as he advanced. The walls seemed to twist and writhe, forming a maze of narrow passages. The dim light of the energon veins was barely enough to guide his way, and the air grew colder with each step.

Prima’s spark pulsed uneasily. This part of the trial wasn’t physical—it was psychological. The labyrinth whispered to him. Faint voices echoed through the passages, their tones accusatory and cruel.
“Why do you continue?” one voice hissed.

“You are not worthy,” another sneered.

“Cybertron’s ruin will be your fault,” a third accused.

Prima clenched his servos, his optics narrowing. “I am not here for your approval,” he growled, his voice echoing back at him. He forced himself to focus, to push forward, even as the whispers grew louder, each one pressing on his spark like a vice.

The passages twisted further, and he found himself at dead end after dead end. His frustration mounted, but he refused to give in. He paused, closing his optics. The labyrinth thrived on his doubt, and he wouldn’t give it that power.

With steady intakes, Prima stilled his mind and listened—not to the whispers, but to the faint hum of the energon veins. Their rhythm was consistent, a beacon of stability in the chaos. He followed the sound, ignoring the jeers of the shadows.

The heart of the chamber shimmered, pulsating with the brilliance of the Allspark. It hovered weightlessly above a pedestal of jagged crystal, its radiance casting shifting patterns across the walls. Prima stepped closer, each stride deliberate, his optics locked on the relic that was the center of all life on Cybertron.

But before he could reach it, the air around him grew heavy. The Allspark’s glow flickered, and from the shadows, a figure stepped forward, materializing as though forged from the light itself.
The Prime before him was a reflection of himself—but older, more seasoned, and worn by time. His white armor gleamed, golden accents glowing faintly with an icy blue hue. A long, shining blade was clutched in his servo, its surface seemingly woven from light itself. The hilt bore the unmistakable shape of the Matrix of Leadership, its brilliance pulsing in rhythm with the Allspark.

Prima’s optics narrowed.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice steady but edged with wariness.

The figure leveled the blade, its tip pointing directly at Prima. “I am the Guardian of the Allspark,” the figure intoned, its voice deep and resonant, but eerily familiar. “To claim it, you must prove yourself. You must confront what lies ahead.”

Prima’s servo clenched into a tight fist. His spark pulsed with recognition—this wasn’t just some ancient guardian. It was *him.* Or what he might become.
“You’re not real,” Prima muttered, stepping forward. “You’re an illusion.”

The guardian’s optics gleamed with icy light. “Am I?” With a swift motion, it raised the sword, the chamber illuminating with a blinding radiance as it swung.

The blade cleaved through the air, and Prima barely dodged, the heat from its energy brushing against his armor. The impact of the strike split the ground behind him, shards of metal and crystal flying in every direction.

Prima launched himself forward, closing the distance between them. He swung with his right servo, aiming for the guardian’s helm. The guardian parried effortlessly, its sword singing as it deflected the blow.

“You rely on your strength,” the guardian said, stepping back. “But strength alone will not carry you through what lies ahead.”

Prima scoffed, feinting to the left before landing a solid punch to the guardian’s chestplate. The blow staggered the figure, but it recovered with inhuman speed, slashing horizontally in retaliation. Prima ducked, feeling the blade’s energy hum above his helm.

“I don’t fight for strength,” Prima growled, driving his fist into the guardian’s midsection. The guardian reeled back, but it's optics showed no pain—only resolve.

“You fight to protect,” the guardian said, raising the sword. “But what happens when your protection fails? When sacrifice demands more than you are willing to give?”

The blade came down again, faster this time. Prima rolled to the side, using the momentum to leap upward and land a powerful strike to the guardian’s shoulder. Sparks flew, but the figure didn’t falter.

“You think you can frighten me with words?” Prima spat.

The guardian’s optics softened. “Not frighten,” it said. “Prepare.”

---

The guardian lunged forward, the sword a blur of light as it thrust toward Prima. He sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the blade, and retaliated with a series of rapid punches aimed at its torso. The strikes landed, but the guardian absorbed the blows, using its blade to force Prima back.

“You believe your fists are enough,” the guardian said, circling him. “But the trials ahead will test your spirit, not your strength.”

Prima’s optics darted to the Allspark, still hovering behind the guardian. He needed to end this quickly.

The guardian anticipated his desperation. It moved with calculated precision, the sword swinging in arcs that left Prima little room to maneuver. Sparks flew as the blade met the chamber walls, its energy scorching the metal.

Prima ducked low, feinting a strike to the guardian’s legs before delivering a powerful uppercut to its helm. The impact sent the guardian staggering back, its optics dimming momentarily.
“Is that enough resolve for you?” Prima said, his vents heaving.

But the guardian didn’t answer. Instead, it stepped forward, lowering the sword slightly. Its optics locked with Prima’s, and for the first time, Prima saw it clearly—*himself.*

---

“You’ve fought well,” the guardian said, its voice softer now. “But this is not about defeating me. It is about understanding the weight of what you seek to carry.”

The blade in the guardian’s servo faded into light, and it stepped closer to Prima, its frame flickering slightly.

“I am you,” it admitted. “Or what you may become. A Prime who has seen the cost of leadership. The sacrifices it demands. The lives it will take.”

Prima’s servos relaxed, his optics narrowing. “And what if I fail?”

The guardian placed a servo on his shoulder. “Then you will fall as all others have. But if you succeed, you will become more than a protector. You will need to become hope.”

The guardian faded, leaving Prima alone in the chamber once more. The Allspark pulsed with renewed brilliance, its light washing over him. Prima approached it, his movements steady despite the weight of the guardian’s words.

When he reached out, the Allspark resonated with his touch, sending a surge of energy through his frame. Images flashed before his optics—visions of battles, triumphs, and sacrifices yet to come. He saw himself standing against impossible odds, leading Cybertron through its darkest hours.

The energy subsided, and the Allspark’s glow dimmed slightly, as though it now recognized him as its guardian. Prima’s optics glimmered with determination as he turned to leave the chamber.
The trials had tested his strength, his resolve, and his heart. And though he knew the path ahead would demand more than he could imagine, he was ready to face it.

…

Megatronus paced the confines of the dark chamber, his optics scanning for any hint of an escape. The walls pulsed faintly with crimson light, the rhythm eerily syncing with his spark. The air was heavy, suffused with a thick energy that pressed down on his frame, as if the room itself sought to crush him.

“Is this all you have?” he muttered, his voice low and edged with frustration. “Keeping me locked in a box won’t work. I’ve faced worse.”

He slammed a fist against the nearest wall, but it absorbed the blow without even a tremor. His self-doubt whispered in the corners of his mind, the familiar ache of inadequacy creeping in. But Megatronus shook it off, his optics narrowing with determination. He wasn’t one to surrender to despair—not yet.

The air shifted suddenly, the faint hum of the chamber growing louder. A crackling noise echoed through the space as the walls began to dissolve, replaced by an endless void bathed in red and black light.

Then, he heard it: a deep, guttural voice.

“You’re wasting your strength,” it rumbled. “Why do you keep fighting, Megatronus? You know it’s hopeless.”

Megatronus turned sharply, his optics narrowing. From the shadows stepped a figure—one he recognized instantly.

It was *him.*

The figure before him was unmistakably Megatronus, but not as he was now. This version was older, his frame larger, scarred, and radiating an aura of menace. His black and red armor gleamed under the pulsating light, the golden glow of his helm’s accents dulled with time. His shoulder plates were sharp and broad, exuding authority and destruction. Most striking of all was the massive cannon mounted on his right arm, bristling with jagged spikes and glowing with ominous purple energy.

The future Megatronus sneered, his optics icy and piercing. “Look at you,” he said, his voice laced with contempt. “So small, so unsure of yourself. Do you even know what you’re fighting for?”
Megatronus squared his shoulders, his optics blazing crimson. “I fight to protect,” he said firmly, though his spark wavered at the sight of this warped reflection. “To prevent destruction, not cause it.”

The future version laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. “Protect? Prevent? Look where that got us.” He stepped closer, his massive frame casting a shadow over the present Megatronus. “The only way to survive is to destroy before you’re destroyed. That’s the truth you’ll learn—*if* you survive this.”

Without warning, the future Megatronus raised his cannon, and a bolt of searing purple energy erupted from it. Megatronus barely had time to dive to the side, the blast scorching the ground where he had stood moments before.

Megatronus rolled to his feet, his smaller cannon snapping into place. He fired a quick burst of red energy at his future self, but the older version deflected it effortlessly with the blade of a jagged energon axe that materialized in his other hand.

“You can’t win, whelp,” the future Megatronus snarled, advancing. “I’ve already lived through this. I *am* you—better, stronger, and far more ruthless.”

Megatronus clenched his fists, his spark pounding in his chassis. “Then I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”

He charged, closing the distance between them with a burst of speed. His smaller frame allowed him to slip beneath the massive swings of the energon axe, and he landed a powerful punch to the future Megatronus’ midsection. The older version staggered back but quickly recovered, slamming his massive cannon downward like a bludgeon.

Megatronus barely evaded the blow, the force of the impact sending shockwaves through the ground. He leapt onto the cannon’s barrel, using it as a springboard to launch himself upward. Twisting in midair, he aimed a powerful kick at his opponent’s helm.

The future Megatronus caught his leg with terrifying speed and hurled him across the arena. Megatronus slammed into the ground with a grunt, his systems screaming in protest.

“Still think you’re a protector?” the future version taunted, stalking toward him. “Protecting means making sacrifices. It means breaking everything in your way to ensure your vision survives. You don’t have the strength—or the will.”

Megatronus forced himself to his pedes, his vents heaving. “If being strong means becoming *you*,” he spat, “then I don’t want it.”

The future Megatronus roared and fired another massive blast from his cannon. Megatronus dodged, the purple energy grazing his shoulder and leaving a deep scorch mark on his armor.

But he was learning. His future self’s power was overwhelming, but it was also wild, unrefined. The older version fought with brute force, relying on his massive cannon and destructive strength.
Megatronus shifted his strategy. He darted in close, where the larger Megatronus couldn’t bring the cannon to bear. He unleashed a flurry of punches and jabs, targeting weak points in his opponent’s armor. The future Megatronus snarled in frustration, swinging his axe wildly, but Megatronus stayed one step ahead, using his agility to his advantage.

“You’re not unstoppable,” Megatronus growled, landing a solid punch to the older version’s shoulder joint. Sparks flew as the massive cannon faltered, its energy sputtering.

The future Megatronus roared in anger, slamming his fist into the ground. The resulting shockwave knocked Megatronus off balance, and the older version seized the opportunity. He grabbed the younger Megatronus by the throat and lifted him off the ground.

“You’re nothing,” the future version snarled, his optics blazing. “You’ll break, just like I did. And when you do, you’ll thank me for showing you the truth.”

Megatronus gritted his denta, his optics locked on his opponent’s. “No,” he said through clenched teeth. With a surge of strength, he swung his smaller cannon upward, firing point-blank into the older Megatronus’ helm.

The blast sent the future version reeling, and Megatronus dropped to the ground, landing on his pedes. He didn’t waste a second. He charged forward, landing a powerful uppercut that sent the older Megatronus sprawling.

The future Megatronus lay on the ground, his optics flickering. Yet even in defeat, he chuckled, a low, menacing sound.

“You’ve got potential,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “But you’re still naive. You think you can protect everyone? You think you can stop the destruction?”

Megatronus stood over him, his fists still clenched. “I’ll try,” he said, his voice firm. “Because the alternative is *you.*”

The older version’s optics dimmed, and his frame began to dissolve into light. “We’ll see,” he said, his voice echoing as he vanished. “We’ll see.”

The chamber around Megatronus shifted, the oppressive darkness lifting. A faint glow filled the space, and a path forward revealed itself.

Megatronus stood tall, his frame battered but unbroken. The trial had tested his resolve, his strength, and his identity. He had faced himself—and won.

And though he knew the journey ahead would be fraught with challenges, he was ready to face them.

As the last echoes of the battle with his future self faded, Megatronus stood amidst the remnants of the crumbling chamber. The air felt lighter now, as if the weight of the trial had been lifted from him. The oppressive energy that had held him in the cage dissipated, and he found himself standing on solid ground, his optics scanning the horizon as the chamber’s walls dissolved into nothingness.

He stood alone, on a mountaintop, the stark beauty of Cybertron stretching out before him. The sky above was a pale shade of amber, tinged with streaks of crimson as the first rays of the twin suns cut through the atmosphere. Below him, the vast expanse of Cybertron’s landscapes unfolded—the metallic cities, the towering spires, the deep canyons, and the lush valleys. The sight struck him in a way he hadn’t expected.

This was his home.

But something within him had changed. The battle with his future self, the harsh truths it had forced him to confront—it had forged something new within him. His spark, once so uncertain, now burned with a steady, unyielding flame. He was no longer the uncertain, self-doubting mech he had been when he first stepped into this trial. He was something more.

He closed his optics, feeling the soft breeze tug at his frame. He could still hear the echo of the future Megatronus’ words: “You’ll break, just like I did. You think you can protect everyone? You think you can stop the destruction?”

But those words no longer held the same weight they once did. He had faced that version of himself—his fears, his anger, and his destructive nature—and he had stood his ground. And yet, there was a certain truth in what his older self had said. The road ahead would demand more than just strength; it would require sacrifice, unwavering resolve, and the courage to face the very things he feared most.

As Megatronus stood there, a distant rumble sounded from the horizon. He turned, instinctively reaching for his smaller cannon, which had since returned to its rightful place on his arm. The ground beneath him vibrated with the impending storm of change that was on the horizon. There was still so much to do—so much to protect.

“I’m not you,” Megatronus whispered to the wind. “And I never will be.”

He knew the path ahead would be difficult. There would be times when his self-doubt crept back, when the weight of responsibility threatened to crush him. But now he knew he could face it. He wasn’t alone. He wasn’t just fighting for himself anymore.

As he stood at the peak of the mountain, Megatronus allowed the beauty of Cybertron’s landscape to wash over him. It was a reminder of everything he had fought for, and everything he still had to protect. He could almost hear the voices of those who had fallen, those who had shaped his path. He could hear the quiet whispers of his own spark, urging him to continue.

Despite the weight of his new resolve, a flicker of something darker—a shadow of the destructive nature that his future self had embodied—remained in the back of his mind. It was a reminder that, while he had won this battle, the war within himself was far from over. There would always be that pull toward anger, toward destruction. But he knew now that he didn’t have to give in to it.
His spark pulsed steadily as he clenched his fist, the gleaming black and red of his armor reflecting the golden glow of the sun as it rose higher in the sky.

“This is my fight,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I will protect what matters. I will lead, not as a tyrant, but as something better.”

A new clarity settled over him. He wasn’t just Megatronus anymore. He was more than the fear and self-doubt that had once defined him. He was something stronger, something more determined. And he would find his place in the world—not as a shadow of his future self, but as a new force to be reckoned with.

(Present Day in the Allspark)

“Wait, I’m confused,” Alchemist said, his voice cutting through the low murmur of conversation. His optics were wide with uncertainty, and he glanced around the table at the other Primes. "Prima and Megatronus... their journeys. How does this all fit together? I mean, we’ve talked about the Allspark, its power, its purpose, but what about them? They both went through trials, tests, and they faced versions of themselves, but... what does it all mean?"

Alpha Trion, ever patient, turned his optics towards Alchemist. His servo rested on his shoulder pad gently, offering the reassurance that he often gave to those struggling with their thoughts. His voice was calm, as always, carrying the weight of wisdom without condescension.

“You are not alone in your confusion,” Alpha Trion said thoughtfully. “The paths of Prima and Megatronus are not linear, nor easily understood. They are both marked by profound trials—not just of strength or will, but of spirit. The versions they faced were not just reflections of who they are now, but echoes of who they could become.”

Alchemist blinked, still trying to grasp the full scope of what Alpha Trion was saying. His optics flicked towards Megatronus, whose usually stoic demeanor was clouded with something unspoken—something deep. Megatronus never seemed to talk about the trial he had faced. Even now, he looked distant, as if the events still weighed heavily on him.

“I understand Prima’s trial,” Alchemist continued, looking for some clarity. “He fought himself, yes. But I... I don’t fully understand how Megatronus' trial fits into this. Why does he face his future self? Why did they both have to confront versions of themselves in these... these trials?”

Leige Maximo scoffed, not particularly interested in delving too deep into the emotional intricacies of the situation. His voice was sharp, yet carried a hint of something else—perhaps even a bit of begrudging respect. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s about understanding the cost of what they might become. Prima fought his future to understand the potential of his leadership, of his purpose. But Megatronus… well, his trial was different, wasn’t it?” Leige’s gaze flickered to Megatronus, whose optics darkened slightly at the mention of his journey.

Alpha Trion turned his attention to Leige, giving him a brief but firm look before continuing. “Leige speaks, albeit somewhat bluntly. Prima and Megatronus, though both Primes, are very different in nature. Prima’s trial was one of purity—of seeing his potential for good, his strength as a protector, and what it would mean to lead Cybertron with honor. He needed to face his doubts, to understand that his actions would define the future.”

He paused for a moment, his gaze drifting towards Megatronus once more. The silence hung heavy for a brief second.

“But Megatronus,” Alpha Trion continued, “his trial was far more complex. He is a Prime driven by a different set of beliefs. His journey wasn’t just about facing who he is or who he could become—it was about confronting the darker paths that could lead him astray. His future self wasn’t just a reflection of who he was, but a manifestation of the anger, the rage, and the destructive potential within him.”

Alchemist’s optics widened as the realization began to dawn on him. “So... his future self wasn’t just an echo of his own power, it was the darker side of him? The side that could lose control?”
Alpha Trion nodded solemnly. “Precisely. Megatronus has always been torn between his innate desire to protect, to preserve, and his growing frustration with the state of the world. His trial was not just a battle of strength, but a battle against himself—against the destructive tendencies that could consume him. He had to confront the possibility of becoming something he feared. His future self was a manifestation of all the worst parts of his ambition, a version that sought power at any cost.”

Alchemist’s expression softened, a mix of empathy and understanding crossing his features. “I see. So, Megatronus had to fight not just for his place in the future, but against the potential darkness within him.”

Megatronus, who had been silently watching the conversation unfold, finally spoke, his voice quieter than usual. “It wasn’t an easy fight,” he muttered, his words laced with an undercurrent of both regret and a hard-earned resolve. “The anger... the self-doubt... I had to face them all. I had to know that I could be more than what my darker half wanted me to be.”
Alchemist turned towards him, surprised by the rare admission. “You... you fought for your future, then?”

Megatronus nodded, his optics cold but resolute. “I fought for control. For my sense of self. I couldn't let that version of me take over... not when I knew the destruction it would bring. I knew that path, I knew how it felt to be driven by rage. But if I gave in to that side, I would be no better than the very enemies I swore to destroy.”

Alchemist felt a wave of understanding wash over him. He had always admired Megatronus’ strength, but now he saw it in a new light. It wasn’t just about power. It was about choosing the path that he would walk, even when that path was obscured by shadows of doubt and anger.

“You’re not alone in that, Megatronus,” Alchemist said gently, his voice sincere. “We all have parts of ourselves we fear. Parts we don’t want to become.”

Megatronus looked up at Alchemist, his expression flickering for a moment before he exhaled a sharp intake of air, a bitter smile forming on his lips. "The truth is, Alchemist, I did become that version of myself." He paused, his gaze hardening as though he were confronting an uncomfortable reality. "I thought I could fight it, but when you look at the world around us—when the weight of leadership bears down on you—the line between protecting and destroying blurs. And I crossed it. I became the very thing I fought against."

The table fell into silence at his words. The other Primes exchanged uncertain glances, but no one spoke.

I looked toward Megatron and noticed he didn’t look well. His once imposing frame seemed slumped, and there was an uncharacteristic weariness to his optics. My gaze softened as I raised my servo, and all the Primes turned their attention to me.

“We will continue later,” I said, my voice calm but firm. “I need to have a word with Megatron.”

The others nodded and disappeared, leaving behind trails of soft, shimmering colors, their presence fading into the distance.

I turned back to Megatron, who hadn’t moved since I spoke. His optics flickered as he slowly looked up at me, his servo clutching his helm, resting his arm heavily on the energon table. “Is something the matter, Prime?” he asked, his tone laced with a forced sharpness, clearly trying to maintain his typical fierce demeanor, despite his weakening appearance.

“You’re unwell,” I said, observing him closely, noting the weariness beneath his usual arrogance.

Megatron flinched at my words, his optics flicking toward me, but he quickly straightened up, as though to hide his vulnerability. “I’m fine, Pr—”

I didn’t let him finish. I stood up from my seat and walked toward him without hesitation.

His gaze didn’t leave me as I approached, but there was a momentary flicker of hesitation in his stance. He shifted slightly away from me, trying to maintain some semblance of distance, yet there was no strength behind the movement.

I reached out and placed my servo firmly on his shoulder pad. His frame tensed under my touch, and for a moment, I thought he might recoil, but instead, he straightened up instantly, his optics narrowing. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low, barely masking the frustration that simmered just beneath the surface.

I held his gaze, locking eyes with his blazing red optics. “You’re a living mech, Megatron,” I said quietly but with unshakable certainty. “You’re not meant to be here for long.”

He rolled his optics, clearly irritated by my words, and turned his head away, but I kept my servo firm on his shoulder, not letting him retreat. “Well, no surprise,” he muttered under his breath, his voice bitter. He slowly pulled himself up from the table, standing slightly taller than me, but there was an unnatural slouch to his posture—something I’d never seen from him before. Megatron never slouched.

I called his name quietly, “Megatron.”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his optics softened just slightly, a rare vulnerability creeping in despite his best efforts to mask it. I felt him tense beneath my touch, but I didn’t pull away.
“I’m going to bring you back to the surface,” I said, my voice calm but resolute.

His optics widened slightly, and he opened his derma to speak, no doubt with a sharp retort, but I raised my servo to silence him before he could get a word out. “I’m coming with you,” I added firmly.
Megatron’s brow furrowed, and he raised an optic ridge, his tone incredulous. “How?”

I gave a small, knowing smile. “Like this,” I said.

The space around us began to shift as I activated the light, a bright, blinding flash that engulfed us both.

Notes:

I FREAKING LOVE OPTIMUS