Chapter Text
Orion – no, Optimus' – inheritance of the Primacy had been a blur since the start. Not only because his processor was still struggling with the physical upgrade he'd been subjected to when first exposed to the Matrix, but because there were so many things happening. The Senate was pulling him this way and that way for official events to celebrate his ascension. The biggest event was the one held in Iacon, which had had events every day for nearly a quartex, but once that was done, he had to go through similar events in a handful of picked city states. His previous desire to travel and see more of Cybertron was quickly replaced with a deep exhaustion and a desire to return to the Palace and hope things calmed down. Even with his boost in stamina, he felt worn thin. Any moment he wasn't actively taking part in a ceremony or ritual, he was preparing for a ceremony or ritual. When they had finally boarded the transport back toward Iacon after their last stop, he'd deluded himself into thinking he'd have a moment of rest, only to be accosted by one of the Council members who'd accompanied him on the tour.
“Ah, my Prime!” The Councilor, Copperplate said enthusiastically, a datapad in hand, “I was hoping we could use the return to Iacon to discuss your new sparkmates! As you know, we have been picking them up along the way -”
“We what?”
“We've been picking up your new consorts along the way-”
Optimus internally sighed at another thing the Council conveniently forgot to actually tell him. Either they were much more disorganized than he thought, or they were actively not telling him things. He didn't know why they would hide things from him, but as time went on it had gone on to spark a hint of concern in him. “I was not made aware of that.”
“Oh, well, perhaps it was missed in all the chaos.” Copperplate took a seat next to him and opened up his datapad, flicking through image after image of bots, rattling off names and cities of origins without pause. Optimus could barely keep up with him, and he suspected that if he were not trained as an archivist, he would not have been able to. “Did you have a favorite?”
Picking a favorite from his sparkmates seemed wrong. The Council had assured him that the sparkmates were all chosen based on the resonance of their spark relative to the Matrix' and his own. Allegedly they were fated by Primus to be together – the Creator had foresight to know which city-states were of importance to the ruling of Cybertron, and sparked into each of the chosen ones a perfect mate for the Prime that would rule in their time. Allegedly, Optimus was set to have the largest group of sparkmates in recent history. Whether that was a good or bad sign was yet to be seen. He couldn't recall anything about his predecessor's consorts other than their names and origins. They'd been a private group, with only one or two of them ever making public appearances, and those very sparingly. He hoped his consorts will be willing to accompany him to ceremonies and rituals, at least as a moral support. One of the worst parts of all the events was the complete lack of familiar bots outside of the Councillors, who while friendly, were not friends.
“I could not make such a distinction with so little information.” He said. Copperplate hummed a bit and flicked again through the images. He stopped at some of the images, admiring them. Though Optimus found it statistically unlikely, all of his sparkmates came from an important background of some kind. What constituted 'important' differed from city-state to city-state, but it remained true. Some were born as noblemechs, high caste from the time of their emergence. Others had gained acclaim and recognition through their skills and actions. None could be considered an average bot by any means.
“Well, we can always establish such things later.” Copperplate said. The hierarchy of Consorts, most likely. Not all Primes had kept the same one, but it was always present. Different titles given for different reasons, privileges granted to one consort over another. He'd read a few articles on how Sentinel Prime would promote or demote his consorts based on how their home states were co-operating with Iacon, and how some city states would become upset if they felt the rank given to their representative consort was too lowly. “One will have to be established as First Consort, just for the start. Tradition demands it for the Ceremony of Bonding, but you can always change who it is later. If you currently have no feelings, we could assign it based on the size of the tribute given by each city.”
“That seems fair.” Optimus agreed. A recognition of early devotion. The Council had been harping about that since the start of his tour. The time spent in the cities thought to not be devoted enough had been miserable, mostly because of his entourage's attitude. “Which consort would that be then?”
“The one from Praxus, I believe.” Copperplate said. He swiped to said mech's image and held it up to Optimus again. “Designation is Prowl. Let's see... he was an enforcer of some renown, especially for his age. Creators are from the city's noble caste – his carrier is the current High Commissioner.”
The mech was handsome, but with a serious countenance. Copperplate only held the datapad up for a moment before taking it back. “He's very pretty already, which is good, but we should of course discuss any modifications you want done before the ceremony.” He opened up a catalogue, swatch after swatch of paint colours listed after each other. “Colour first...”
Optimus' processor finally caught up to his optics and audials. “Modifications? For my consort?”
Copperplate stared at him like he'd just said something completely unreasonable. “Yes?” He said, “It's traditional for consorts to undergo minor modifications to better suit the desires and needs of their Prime.”
Something inside of Optimus shifted uncomfortably at the thought of modifying someone else to suit his needs. Those were the actions of the corrupt mechs who ran the red-light districts, forcing their workers to accommodate their desires. He found it represensible. Regardless of what caste someone was born in, regardless of their frametype, they should never have to alter themselves to suit what someone else thought was more appealing. Increasing regulations in those sorts of quarters was something he wanted to do, now that he was a Prime. And all of that was without mentioning the fact that most modifications were an expensive and at least mildly unpleasant process. Generally something most tried to avoid, in his experience.
“Not doing any modification will give the impression that you do not care for your consorts.” Copperplate chided. “The idea is to show unity. And all of your consorts have agreed to necessary modifications, as part of their bonding with you. Truly, it's nothing so terrible – we're not brutes.”
Optimus' brow furrowed as he thought. He still didn't like the thought of it, but perhaps it really was just his lower-class upbringing making him blind to how things were meant to be done in the upper castes. Ease of access to body workshops might mean that it really wasn't such a big deal amongst the wealthy. He'd never had any reason to know about the intricate social workings of high society before. The closest he'd gotten before had been sorting through and categorizing works written by and for the higher castes, rarely allowed to read them himself. Still, if his consorts were consenting, there was no reason to kick up a fuss. “I still am unsure as to what I could request...”
“I can suggest some modifications that are considered standard?”
“Please, do.”
“Most basic, of course, is modifying the paint.” Copperplate said, “I'm sure this one shouldn't be so terrible to do – we both know that repainting is a painless process, and if they express a displeasure to you, it shouldn't take more than a few joors to get it returned to whatever they had before.” The last part he spoke with a chuckle in his voice, as though he found it ridiculous to even consider the possibility.
“Regardless, I would prefer something minor.” He looked over the picture of Prowl, noting how the mech's paint was nearly devoid of colour. He forced himself to think of an altercation to it that wouldn't make the mech look like a different person. “Hmm, maybe just some highlights? Nothing too intensive.” Some small highlights would be immediately noticeable, and quickly reversible.
“Red or blue? Both?” Copperplate spoke as though it was a bygone decision that the paint would match Optimus' own colours. Unity. He reminded himself. The idea was to show unity, and shared paint colour was an easy visual cue. That was the whole reason they were discussing this in the first place.
“Uh, red.”
“Such a passionate colour.” He said fondly, though Optimus felt a wave of discomfort at his tone. “It's also quite typical to request armour modifications, in terms of more minor changes.”
No part of Orion – Optimus – found the idea of any sort of armour modification minor. He reminded himself that it was different among the higher classes. Perhaps to them, surgery to add or remove fins, chevrons or other such things was considered minor. “Do you mean the adding of small kibble?”
“If you desire. This consort has quite a nice chevron, though it could stand to be bigger... But rather I meant the changing of types of armour.” Copperplate said. “Prime Consorts are their own caste that is quite unique, but not expected to partake in anything of manual labour or combat, therefore reformatting their armour to lighter, more delicate styles tends to be done, for comfort if nothing else.”
“I would prefer any such changes to be the consorts' choice, not mine.” Optimus said with a frown. Armour overhauls were arduous things to get done, with long periods of adaptation before they truly settled and felt real. Everyone he'd ever met who'd had partial re-modellings had heavily warned against getting the procedure done unless absolutely medically necessary. He could only imagine it was even worse to be wholly remade. "So long as they are comfortable with their armour, it is not any of my concern."
Copperplate gave him a strange look, then nodded, “Of course, of course,” He said, “We can put it up to the consorts, of course, no problem with that. We'll leave things as they are for now.” He put down the datapad. “Say, what preferences would you have in a partner though, if you had the choice? Not to force anything - just speculation! I'm sure a good-looking mech like you has had plenty of berth partners before. Just wondering what they were like..."
--
Optimus' first glimpse of any of his consorts was at the Ceremony of Bonding. Even though they'd been living in the Palace's Harem wing, he'd been strictly forbidden from interacting from any of them while they spent a quartex in seclusion to assure their purity, a rite he felt ridiculous but ultimately harmless. The Ceremony, like most others, was being held in Iacon's Grand Temple. The whole place was packed wall to wall with mechs clamouring to catch a glimpse of their Prime and his consorts. Most of his soon-to-be mates were kneeling, covered entirely by semi-translucent silk veils, to the side of one standing consort, also veiled, who stood before a priest.
After all the pre-amble and chanting and reciting oaths, his consort's voice quiet but steady beneath the veil, Optimus was finally allowed to lift the veil off of his First Consort and see him face to face. He'd seen him in pictures, of course, but he was just relieved to finally be able to make optic-contact with one of his sparkmates. He let go of the silk and it fluttered delicately to the ground, leaving Optimus to marvel at his Praxian consort, Prowl. He had a handsome, noble face with a seriousness to his expression that seemed almost too much for a bonding ceremony. His paint was still mostly black and white, like his pictures, but red highlights followed several of his seams, and the chevron on his head was red as well. A second chevron, one on his pelvis, was also red, and Optimus tried to remember if he'd had that before the repainting or not. His armour, for the matter, was also very slim and delicate looking for someone from an enforcer family – he must have requested to have it altered for his new caste – and his doorwings were held low and close to his body, opposite to what Optimus knew to be the typical position from the few Praxians he'd met.
Prowl didn't say anything, holding his gaze for only a moment before looking away. His chest plating transformed away, exposing his sparkchamber, with little hesitation or preamble. Optimus opened his own chest, the bright light from the Matrix illuminating around him, despite the discomfort of doing it in front of so many mechs. Prowl was unlikely to be any more at ease in the situation than he was, but kept any discomfort well under wraps. Optimus knelt so they could be spark to spark, no longer slightly looming over Prowl. When they connected, Optimus shivered at the new sensation, but Prowl stumbled, optics flickering. Optimus steadied him in his arms, then gently maneuvered so the two of them were sitting, Prowl securely in his lap. Some of the crowded swooned at the motion, letting out oohs and awwws at the gentle moment. He'd never felt a more tense mech before, and worried the Matrix might be too much for Prowl to handle. Through their nascent bond he felt a mess of different emotions, too jumbled up for him to make any sense of.
The Priests kept doing their chants and continuing the ceremony around them, small drops of ceremonial high grade falling on them every few kliks. Prowl's tension turned to shivering, and eventually he slumped against Optimus' chest, their bond quieting. It was then that the priests called for them to stand, so Optimus did, though Prowl was incapable of standing on his own, filling Optimus with more concern for his consort, even if the crowd and priests seemed completely unbothered. One by one, the other consorts came and bowed before them before moving on, filing out of the temple. Still helping Prowl to walk, Optimus followed them out. From there it was another long procession back to the Palace, even larger crowds eagerly waiting to see them. However strange it was to ride in the back of another convoy, one whose trailer was windowed so he could see out and people could see in, he appreciated it now. Prowl was clearly in no state to be transforming into his alt mode and travelling.
“Are you feeling alright?” He asked once he was confident they were in relative privacy.
Prowl nodded, and his mouth opened as if to speak, but his body seized up before he could. Optimus was barely quick enough to catch him as he seized, then went still, optics going dim. Their bond didn't flicker, which meant he wasn't dead, but if Optimus didn't have that internal confirmation he wouldn't have been certain. After a moment, Prowl slowly woke back up, groggy at first then looking as though he was staring down a firing squad.
“Are you – is there -” Optimus wasn't sure what to ask. Clearly Prowl wasn't alright by any means.
“I'm fine, my Prime.” Prowl said, extracting himself from Optimus' hold and avoiding his gaze. “I was born with an unfortunate glitch in my processor, that is exacerbated by my tactical unit. It – it tends to flare up during emotionally taxing situations, causing crashes. No fault of yours, of course.”
“Are you certain you do not need me to call for a medic?”
“Yes, I've been dealing with this condition since my youth.” Prowl said. “Please, forget this has happened. I will try to be more careful in the future.”
“If that is what you wish, I will respect your decision.” Optimus frowned, wondering how exactly Prowl intended to be more careful about a medical condition.
“It won't interfere with my ability to perform my duties.” There was a strange twinge to Prowl's voice, a hint of – desperation, maybe? Being chosen as a consort to the Prime was no doubt stressful enough, being First Consort even more so. If Praxus had put on Prowl even a tenth of the amount of expectations that Iacon had placed on Optimus, it would make sense for Prowl to be concerned, perhaps overly so, about succeeding in his new caste and position.
“If you are unwell, all things can wait.” Optimus said. After a moment's hesitation, he continued, “I myself have been overwhelmed by everything as of late. If you need some time, you can have it.”
“No!- No.” Prowl said. “The priests will be expecting the consummation by the end of the cycle. I will be fit to complete my duties.”
“Yes, yes, I know what the priests are expecting.” Optimus said, some of his exasperation with them entering into his voice. “I am certain one of the other consorts would be more than sufficient for the priests' purposes.”
That was not the correct thing to say. Prowl's face twisted into a sort of panic and he grabbed Optimus with desperate servos. “I can do my duties, my Prime, I assure you, whatever is required of me -”
The convoy slowed to a stop and the door opened. It was only a short walk to the palace doors, but there was no shortage of onlookers. Prowl stared out at them with wide optics and let go of Optimus. This time he was able to stand on his own, albeit shakily, as they walked all the way to Optimus' chambers. The other consorts were all waiting outside, as were several priests. Having all the consorts wait outside the door felt... wrong, but it was what was expected. The priests and the senators had insisted so, and had made several documents available to him chronicling the experiences of previous Primes and consorts at this point. He'd read through only a handful of the consorts' entries before having to stop, feeling too much like he was reading personal diaries instead of historical documents.
He had made the chambers his own in the past cycles, his one private space away from everyone else. Not so private anymore, it seemed. He could see the varied religious objects the priests had placed around the room in his absence, no doubt for good luck or to summon the presence of Primus or some such. Beside him, Prowl looked around the room with a neutral expression, optics lingering on Optimus' bookshelves before moving toward the berth. The Praxian moved toward it slowly, approaching it as though it was trapped. Optimus watched, curious, but also wanting to let his new consort make himself comfortable before initiating anything and hoping that perhaps he would initiate some conversation. Prowl rested on its edge for a moment, glancing over at Optimus continually as he first sat there, then moved to sit in the centre of the berth, then laid down on it, propped up slightly by the copious pillows. Then, with a brief flit of – was that annoyance? - on his face, Prowl spread his legs and slid open his modesty panelling.
Optimus' processor stuttered for a moment. He had not expected Prowl to be so – so forward after everything. And he had severely overestimated how much his own limited experience would prepare him for interface with a very handsome virtual stranger. As he stared, Prowl reached between his legs and worked his fingers into his valve, starting to produce lubricant. Well. That answered Optimus' question on whether he preferred his valve or spike. He approached his new consort, climbing onto the berth with him and opening his own modesty panelling. His spike was slowly pressurizing and he was privately glad that Ariel had enjoyed both taking and receiving, so he knew, in theory, what should feel good. He reached out to take over prepping Prowl's valve, keeping a keen optic on Prowl's state, worried he might crash again.
His physical upgrades had left him almost too large for his own liking, and he felt it more now than ever, looming over his much smaller consort, fingers clumsily trying to figure out how to pleasure the valve of a mech a size class smaller than him. He felt like a virgin, like his frame upgrades had robbed him of his experience with interfacing. Prowl was avoiding optic-contact, helm turned and staring off at the bookshelves, only occasionally pulling faces at Optimus' attempts at preparing him without damaging him. Obviously, whatever he was trying wasn't working, and he sat back with a bit of a sigh, prepared to talk it out. This was not the correct choice, it seemed, because Prowl shot up and all but fell in his lap as he grabbed his servo and brought it back to his valve with a sort of fervent intensity that his previous state had been antithetical to. Optimus let out a startled groan when Prowl grabbed his half-pressurized spike and squeezed it, the feeling somewhere between pain and pleasure. He let himself be guided by his consort's actions almost passively then, until Prowl properly climbed into his lap and began lowering himself onto his spike. His hips bucked instinctively at the feeling of a warm, wet valve around his spike, a primal sort of reaction he'd never had before, and also one that was not the best idea. Despite his attempt at working open Prowl's valve, he had only been somewhat successful, and certainly not successful enough to make up for their size difference. Prowl hissed in pain as his valve was entered more forcefully than he'd clearly intended it to be. Optimus went fully still and started to pull out.
“I apologize -” Optimus began to speak, then stopped when he felt Prowl force himself down until his spike was fully inside his valve. It felt wonderful to be fully sheathed inside him, but he was almost certain he'd felt something rip inside Prowl in the handful of seconds that had just passed.
“Am I not pleasing enough to you, my Prime?” Prowl nearly demanded, voice quivering.
“Certainly not - Prowl, I just worry that perhaps you are not ready.” There was something that was wrong with the whole situation, with Prowl's insistence, but why? Why was the Praxian so contradictory in words and body language?
“I assure you that I am ready to perform all of my duties.” To enunciate his point, Prowl began slowly moving his hips, providing sinful stimulation to Optimus' spike. He was unable to prevent himself from letting out a grown of pleasure. It felt more powerful than what he'd ever experienced before. Was Prowl just more skilled than his past partners, or was this another quirk of his frame upgrades? “It is the foremost duties of a consort to provide sparklings to the Prime of mixed heritage to ensure the loyalty of their home state.”
Prowl was continuing the rocking of his hips as he spoke, even with the pinched look on his face. Despite the pleasure, the movements felt mechanical and Optimus was fighting a difficult battle between what his reproductive protocols were screaming at him to do and what his rational mind was telling him. “There is plenty of time to conceive heirs, there is no need to continue with this tonight.” At that, Prowl let out a small growl of frustration and rather than reply, leaned his helm on Optimus' chest and continued what he had been doing, hands keeping him steady. Realizing a lost argument when he heard one, Optimus decided that there would be no convincing Prowl to act otherwise, at least not tonight. Figuring out exactly why the Praxian was so desperate to try to conceive immediately was going to be a task for the future. He put his hands on the smaller mech's waist and began moving in time with him. As far as interface went, it was incredibly basic and banal. Nothing more than thrusting his spike until he found a speed that seemed to please them both well enough, and exposing his spark when Prowl's own sparkchamber opened up. It was just enough to reach sexual gratification, the type of interface that was more to fulfill some duty than to fulfill an urge. It was what it was. They overloaded simultaneously when their sparks connected, Prowl's valve clenching weakly around Optimus' spike for a short moment before stilling again. Even his most rushed and generally utilitarian interfaces with Ariel had held more passion.
They stayed connected long enough for their sparks to still and Prowl's gestation chamber to close, a half-suppressed whine making its way out of the Praxian as Optimus pulled out. Optimus stood to go collect a cloth and some cleaning solvent, and to give Prowl (and himself) a moment's privacy after the entire ordeal. He didn't have the time to reach the ensuite before the main doors opened with fanfare and chanting. He startled, feeling as yet untested battle protocols initiate, calming when he saw that it was only priests. Mollified that there was no threat, but angered at this intrusion, he stepped to intercept their approach of the berth with a steely look. Had they been listening at the door to hear them moving around, waiting? The priests were nosy enough that he wouldn't put it entirely passed them.
“Excuse us, but we are in the middle of a private matter.” He told the priests, mustering his 'primely' voice that his varied advisors had drilled into him.
“My Prime, we are simply here to verify the consummation of your union with the First Consort, and ensure proper celebrations will take place.” The head of the group of priests simpered. “This is a momentous occasion that deserves to be shared.”
“I am certain we can celebrate this when both myself and my consort are ready for it.” Optimus insisted. It was one thing for him to be pushed about for meetings and events, and another for priests to barge in on him and his mate immediately post interface. Prowl was silent on the berth, optics flitting from Optimus to the priests, mouth pressed into a thin line.
“But, my Prime, there are traditions!” The priest insisted. “As soon as the consummation is finished, the consort must be purified and prayed over to ensure a sparkling of primal quality is conceived as swiftly as possible.”
“I do not understand the rush for offspring. Seeing as neither myself nor Prowl are likely to die soon, it is unnecessary.” Optimus said. “And in any circumstance, my ascendance to the Primacy is proof enough that ensuring a Matrix-worthy sparkling is born to the Prime household is less pressing than ever.”
For countless generations, the Prime had been chosen from among their predecessor's offspring. While it wasn't guaranteed, it was much more likely for sparks capable of sustaining the power of the Matrix to come from the Matrix-bearer. And there was the obvious fact that bots raised in the household of a Prime were more educated for the role by nature of their birth. There had been three of his predecessor's creations identified as capable of bearing the Matrix, and Optimus had fought hard for the ability to attend their selection ceremony, when the Matrix would pick its next bearer. He was lucky that Alpha Trion had agreed to bring him along despite his relatively low rank and poorer birth-caste. Though perhaps luck was not a play but some higher power. When the priests had brought out the Matrix, having carefully been extracted from his predecessor's chest, it had started to glow and had shot toward him. His chassis had opened without his consent and the Matrix had settled inside, burning hot and blindingly bright.
The next thing he remembered after that was waking in the berth of the Prime with a new frame and the weight of Cybertron on his shoulders. Everything that had been personal to the previous household had been removed, and the previous Prime's consorts and creations had all disappeared. With his ascension, they had lost their caste and position. His advisors had all been unbothered at turning out the Primal household at such a moments notice, and seemed confused that Optimus had asked after them at all, assuring him that they had been well taken care of. He guessed they had returned to their families in their home states, but after thousands of vorns in the palace, he imagined it was not an easy move. He particularly pitied the youngest of the sparklings, whom he doubted understood what was happening. He couldn't imagine the trauma of losing your sire and the only home you knew so suddenly at such a young age.
With all of that, it had been proven that anyone could become the Prime, if the Matrix chose them. Optimus didn't have any particular attachment to having his own creation inheriting the Primacy, and certainly saw no reason to rush to have newsparks. Especially given that he barely knew all of his potential co-creators.
“Your word is law, my Prime.” The priest finally conceded. “We will content ourselves with the knowledge that the consummation has happened.”
“I appreciate your consideration.” Optimus said, watching them leave. When the door clicked shut, he turned back to Prowl. “I apologize for that.”
“Have I done something to displease you?” Prowl asked. “Why are you so against the traditional ceremonies?”
“I understand their importance,” Optimus said, “but I dislike the ones that interfere so closely with my private life, and with so little consideration.”
Prowl didn't respond, face neutral. He climbed under the covers of the berth, despite not having cleaned himself up much, and settled in. Optimus decided to join him but kept his distance within the bed. Prowl was still, so still that it didn't look like rest at all. Optimus himself struggled to find recharge, wondering what exactly was happening in his First Consort's mind to make him so... strange.
Chapter 2
Summary:
After his awkward night with his First Consort, Optimus goes to work and meets with his Vosnian consort, Starscream. He also talks colonization.
Notes:
Thank you everyone for the support for chapter 1! It encouraged me to get this chapter out much faster than I ever expected haha. I hope you continue enjoying.
Plot is overtaking me. there will be much more to this story than just internal trouble within the Prime's harem....
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When morning came, Prowl was already awake, sitting at the vanity and washing away the faint and few paint-transfers from their tryst. He stood and gave a slight bow, speaking as he did so, “Good morning, my Prime.”
“Good morning.” Optimus replied, searching for any sign of emotion in Prowl's posture. Finding none, he dared to lightly tug on their still fragile bond. He only got a faint impression of surprise, the bond equivalent of a startle, before Prowl internally quieted. “How was your recharge?”
“Restful.” Prowl glanced toward the door. “If you have no need of me, might I be dismissed?”
“Of course. You are more than welcome to take your leave whenever you feel the need to.”
Prowl nodded at him but said nothing more, making his way out of the room without a backwards glance. Optimus watched him go, no less confused about what exactly was going on with his First Consort. His first suspicion was that Prowl hadn't wanted to enter the primal harem and was uncomfortable with his position. But that made little sense, as any consorts had to agree to join the harem before being accepted, and the priests and senators had assured him of all of the consorts' enthusiasm. His second suspicion was that Prowl had anticipated something different from his new role, or had not wanted the position of First Consort and was struggling to adapt. He resolved to give him a few cycles to adjust before seeking him out again. With the other consorts to meet and get used to, it wouldn't be difficult to give Prowl some space.
As he got himself ready, his commline pinged with the cycle's schedule. No shortage of meetings with the Senate and Council or important mechs seeking to acquaint themselves with the Prime. Even after all of the previous cycle's events, there was no moment to rest. Half of the time, he wouldn't even get a full explanation of whatever project he was supposed to be signing off on, just a cursory summary and an insistence that all that remained for it to be ready was his approval. There were a few spaces dug out in the schedule for him to spend with the consorts, should he so wish, alongside a map indicating which apartments had been allocated to which consort.
That cycle, the senators, noblemechs and various aides were in a good mood, full of questions about the new First Consort and the consummation ceremony. Most were the normal sort of questions, curiosity about if they talked much, how the night went. A few of the aides with Praxian heritage waxed poetic about the demureness of Prowl during the ceremony, and how elegant it all seemed. Some others mentioned how impressed they were by Praxus' tribute payment. All very comfortable questions, until right before the day's first scheduled break.
“How was last night?” Ionizer, a noblemech, asked as they left a pitch meeting for a new educational initiative together. There was a small crowd of mechs leaving with them, some of higher-castes, potential benefactors like Ionizer, others of mid-castes, the ones who would be doing all of the important ground work for the project. Meetings like this were nice, times where Optimus could interact with people that reminded him of his old life, before all of this, however sparingly.
“Pleasant. Prowl and I shared a calm night together after the festivities.” By that point, the response was well tried, repeated countless times. Optimus couldn't fully keep the building weariness from entering his voice. The reply had shown sufficient for everyone asking purely for posterity's sake, which he appreciated.
“Ah, come on, you know that's not what I'm asking.” Ionizer laughed, anticipation written well onto his face. “What was he like? Mech like that must've felt great.”
Optimus had to take a moment to register the boldness of the statement, which allowed the noblemech to continue speaking. “I've heard Praxians can be pretty crazy in the berth. And I mean, your First Consort looks downright sinful. I looked into his pre-mod looks, and just seeing what he's had done to his armour makes me wonder what else he got modified for your pleasure... I heard that there's this trend in some of the lower castes to replace a bot's spike with this sort of second valve – wouldn't that be crazy if one of your consorts had that?”
Optimus couldn't muster up any words to say, too stunned by the statement to properly process it. Still, Ionizer clearly recognized he had made some sort of faux-pas, chuckling lightly at Optimus' face. “Sorry, I guess we are in public,” Ionizer looked completely nonplussed, unbothered by the impropriety of his words. He lowered his tone down to what could be generously described as a stage whisper. “Can't have the Prime discussing such vulgar matters in front of the masses.”
“I believe there are many more reasons we should not be discussing such matters.” It took all of Optimus' composure to not very loudly decry all such reasons, but a public outburst would not help the situation. Had he still been Orion, Ionizer might well have been on the floor for his words. He'd never been violent, but all mechs had their limits. He had to be more tolerant now that he was the most recognizable mech on all of Cybertron. And since he had gained the strength to potentially kill a bot with a single blow.
Ionizer finally looked somewhat abashed, withdrawing ever so slightly. “Apologies.” He said, “I forgot my place.”
“I would appreciate you keeping your comments about my consorts to yourself, in the future.” Optimus forced out, keeping up with all the etiquette and decorum he'd learned despite what he felt. Ionizer's words were vulgar and degrading, but the Prime couldn't lose his composure over a handful of crass words. It would make him appear volatile, for one, and erode public trust. And the noble castes did not take well to one of their own becoming a public spectacle. Even as the Prime, Optimus felt that he was more outsider to them than not at times.
“Of – of course, my Prime.” Ionizer said, tremor to his voice. “I apologize again.” He hurried off with a slight bow of his head, confused bots parting to let him through and glancing at Optimus with unspoken questions.
“Please pardon Ionizer's brisk departure.” Optimus told the crowd before moving on himself. To think that someone would find it reasonable to make those sorts of comments about someone they'd never met.
He made his way back toward the inner palace and thus away from anyone else who might think to ask him about Prowl again. He feared lashing out at the next person who spoke about the bonding ceremony, even if they said nothing wrong. The more he thought about what Ionizer said, the more he felt anger. First was talking about Prowl like he was nothing more than some interface toy, then there was the implications about the modifications he'd undergone. Optimus wasn't foolish enough to assume that Prowl – and the other consorts as well – had undergone modifications purely for their own benefits. Someone like Prowl, who'd spent his whole life as an enforcer, was unlikely to have desired full armour overhauls to something more delicate and less reinforced before his appointment to the Primal harem and change of expected function. And for all Optimus had made it clear he didn't want his consorts to feel pressured to change, he had no way of knowing how much pressure was placed on them by other sources, like their home city-states. Given how closely the relationship between a consort and the Prime, and their city-state and Iacon mirrored each other, it wasn't impossible that some of the consorts had decided to try to gain his favour early through their modifications, or been encouraged to try.
Regardless, there was a limit. Perhaps some of his consorts chose to alter their armour or paint, but to alter their array like Ionizer suggested was too far. No reasonable bot would expect their partner to do such a thing for them, and no sane mech would put themselves through array alteration on the off chance that it would be pleasing to someone they had never met. It wasn't like with the paint colours, where Optimus had at least made a certain preference known, or the armour, where an established tradition existed. Outside of a small handful of previous partners, there shouldn't be anyone around who knew what his interface preferences were. Anyone who did know those things would also know that he was perfectly happy adapting to his partners to ensure they both enjoyed themselves, rather than expecting anyone to physically modify their array. No. Ionizer had crossed a line. He'd been egregiously inappropriate, Optimus told himself. He didn't need to justify his reaction to himself, and spiralling because of a false accusation was going to help no one. What was more pressing would be figuring just why Ionizer thought making the comment was in any way appropriate to make. In all previous interactions they'd had, the mech had shown himself to be of good nature and generally pleasant disposition, though plenty of bots hid certain parts of themselves well until they slipped up.
He considered going back to his private rooms and using his sparse free time to read something that wasn't work related, but his schedule pinged with a reminder that he was now free to visit his consorts at his leisure and encouraged to do so. Time alone would have to wait. After a quartex of anticipating the day he would be able to meet his consorts, ignoring his first free opportunity to do so would be a waste. He sent a quick message to one of the harem's stewards to inquire who was free at the moment and received a full cycle's schedule for each of them. Outside of a few visits to the Palace gardens, they all seemed to be expected to stay in their apartments for the cycle. Waiting on him to visit, most likely. Their schedules would regularize with more activities and work once things settled. If they were all amenable to it, there was no shortage of projects Optimus would greatly appreciate their varied expertise on.
He decided to go visit his Vosnian consort, Starscream, next, at least partially to see if he could gain insights on Prowl through him. The two hadn't known each other before entering the harem, but shared the most similar backgrounds, and Optimus figured that that could have helped them form a friendship based in comparable histories. Vos and Praxus were cultural sisters, however distantly, and both city-states had consistently been providing consorts for the harem in recent history, which meant they held a similar elevated importance compared to other cities. Not only that, but the consorts from the two often found themselves as First Consort - Sentinel's Vosnian consort had held the title of First Consort the longest out of all of them, though the Praxian one had been close behind. On a more individual level, Starscream and Prowl were the only two consorts hailing from a ruling family. Prowl's creator, the High Commissioner, was the currently appointed representative of the Prime in Praxus and worked in tandem with the elected Praxian prime minister. The position had long been tied to a singular family in Praxus, passed from creator to creation. Starscream was the grand-creation of the Winglord, the hereditary ruler of Vos. The others, while of high caste, were more removed from direct power.
He didn't want to start his relationship with Starscream by questioning him about Prowl – he knew well enough that that wouldn't be the most impressive first meeting – but he hoped Starscream would have some insights, or maybe just have some advice to share while they got to know each other. Speaking about the Bonding Ceremony would be a good opening point of conversation, after all, he figured. He sent ahead word that he would be visiting Starscream, taking a mental note to ask his consorts for their comms, and began making his way over. The more he stayed in his thoughts however, the more he thought perhaps his original plan was a bad idea. He didn't want to seem to be speaking about one consort to another in secret. He resolved to only speak about Prowl if Starscream brought it up. Instead, he thought he could ask more generally what the mood had been within the harem in their quartex together leading up to the bonding ceremony. Optimus had very few ideas on what any of the consorts wanted from him or from their new positions. Asking Prowl after their incredibly awkward interface would have been strange. But a midday meeting with Starscream could be promising.
A steward came to meet Optimus as he approached his destination, opening the great doors that led to the consort's living quarters. The harem wings of the palace was just as monumental as the rest of it. Towering ceilings, ornate decorations, shimmering wall hangings depicting the consorts of Prima. Each consort had their own apartments, for the moment all in the same wing save for Prowl, though it would have been impossible to tell which door belonged to which consorts if not for the map he'd been provided and the steward guiding him. They were all identical. It didn't help that the lighting was warm and dim, alimented by lamps along the walls. Pleasant, but a bit drowsy for the middle of the cycle – the sort of lighting Optimus associated with an evening in, not late morning. The lack of windows or skylights in the main hall, ever present in other parts of the palace, did not help the situation.
“This door leads to Consort Starscream's rooms, my Prime.” The steward spoke with a bow, stopping in front of one of the doors. A small golden plaque displayed Starscream's name below a keypad, which the steward punched a password into. At the same time, Optimus' comm pinged with a list of passwords for each apartment. He filed away the information, just in case, though he doubted he would use it much. He couldn't expect his consorts to like him much if he ignored a locked door. “I will ensure you are not bothered.”
“That is appreciated, thank you. However, if you could warn me should I become at risk of being late to my next meetings, it would also be very appreciated.”
“Of course, my Prime.” The steward paused, clearly communicating with someone else. “Your aides estimate it will take you twenty-five breems to leave Consort Starscream's apartments and reach your next meeting. I could notify you half a joor before the meeting, if it so pleases you.”
“Yes, that sounds perfect.” Optimus said. The steward opened the door for him, announcing his arrival loudly before slipping back out.
The inside of the apartment was just as dimly lit as the outside of it, also lacking windows. It was decently sized, and furnished in a way that Orion would have found lavish, but Optimus found surprisingly modest for a room in the palace. A desk and chair, some bookshelves, an entertainment centre in an area made for lounging in, a handful of installations for producing art or music, and of course, the berth. It was the fanciest part of the room by a wide margin, large enough to easily house several mechs and covered in a variety of colourful fabrics and pillows. Burning incense made the air slightly hazy and made the whole room heady, adding to the atmosphere of night despite the time. Alone on the berth, a single mech was sitting, watching Optimus' approach. His consort.
Starscream was a very pretty mech, elegant, as most Seekers tended to be. Being born to fly made their armour naturally more light and delicate than that of ground-frames, and Starscream was small even compared to his frame-kin. His face and frame betrayed no potential apprehension, appearing curious but subdued. Sleek wings, at first held high, lowered slowly to a position similar to how Prowl had held his doorwings at the Bonding Ceremony. His paint colours had matched Optimus' already, though it seemed he'd taken an opportunity to add some highlights along his limbs and wings that hadn't been there before. His armour was largely untouched outside of the removal of integrated weaponry he'd had, typical of the Vosnian warrior elite but unnecessary for someone who belonged to one of the most well protected groups on Cybertron. Seeing Starscream's mostly unmodified form put Optimus' worries about Ionizer's comments more at rest.
“My Prime.” Starscream greeted with a slight flutter of wings. “Your decision to grace me with your presence fills me with great pleasure.”
Optimus felt himself fluster, but approached until he stood next to the berth. “I thought we might finally take some time to get to know each other. It has been long enough waiting to be properly introduced.” He looked around the room for something to start the conversation with, something that would tell him a little bit about Starscream. His optics settled on the various instruments. An unusual hobby for someone not born in an entertainer or artist caste, but Optimus could sympathize, having been born a labourer with the spark of a scholar. “Are you interested in music, then?” He asked, turning back to Starscream.
Only to find Starscream looking at him expectantly, bathed in the bright glow of his exposed spark. Optimus stared at the shining white light, mesmerized by its brightness and stunned by Starscream's boldness. “You have a beautiful spark.” He spoke. It was true. Though all sparks were beautiful, at the end of the cycle.
“Yours to claim, my Prime.” Starscream said, edging closer. Optimus sat on the berth, turning his upper body toward Starscream. “How would you like me?” Starscream asked.
“However you prefer.” Optimus told him. He had not come expecting a mid-cycle interface, much less a bonding session, but turning down someone baring their spark to you felt mean – cruel, even. Especially when they were meant to be bonded. Starscream was on his knees at the edge of the berth, allowing their helms to be at the same height. He placed a servo on the side of Optimus' face, lingering there for a moment before moving it down along his neck and shoulders and the front of his chassis. It felt somewhat like an inspection, like being sized up. Starscream's servo lingered on the centre of his chest before moving downward, reminding him that his own spark was still securely tucked away while his consort's was bared to the world. He opened his chest, feeling the tugging at his spark grow as he exposed it, pulling toward Starscream's spark. They gasped in unison as they connected, and Optimus let Starscream's emotions wash over him. They were much clearer than Prowl's had been, easier to actually discern. At a surface level prod, Starscream felt curious, anticipatory, and mildly anxious.
He heard the tell-tale sound of modesty paneling sliding open and felt Starscream's servo press on his own panel. He obliged the silent request, bringing his servo to Starscream's array. His valve was hot and well-lubricated, slick and inviting to the touch. Optimus pressed in one of his fingers into Starscream's valve and found no resistance to the intrusion. Even as he introduced a second finger, wary of their size difference and a repeat of the previous cycle's incident, Starscream's valve stayed soft and pliant. There was no doubt that Starscream had prepared himself for this before his arrival, and Optimus heated up at the thought, fans whirring to life. Someone as beautiful as Starscream, taking the time to work himself open, to be warm and willing so immediately to him, was not something Optimus had ever expected to happen to him. His spike pressurized in his anticipation of what was to come, Starscream taking it in servo and beginning to stroke it before it was fully erect. Knowing that most bots were unlikely to reach overload with penetration alone, Optimus began to rub Starscream's anterior node, adjusting until he found a level of pressure and speed that made Starscream's fans kick on and the bond echo with the syrupy warmth of potent pleasure. It took him longer than he would have liked, still unused to his new size, but at least he was finding a certain success. He kept working to bring Starscream closer to the edge, encouraged by the other's moaning, his dedication rewarded by a loud cry and a rush of gratification through the bond as Starscream overloaded.
Feeling himself coming closer and closer to an overload and still vaguely aware that he had somewhere to be in the nebulously soon future, Optimus moved to push Starscream down onto the berth and positioned himself over him. As he admired his consort and saw Starscream's wings pinned to the berth beneath them, he realized that perhaps taking a Seeker on his back wasn't the most natural of positions. At least, not leaning over him like Optimus currently was. Would it feel good though, to stroke his wings? He'd heard that they were sensitive but didn't want to risk ruining the moment to learn how sensitive.
“Should I move?” He asked, earning him a confused look.
“Interface typically requires movement, yes.” Starscream said, sarcasm thick on his voice. Still, he sounded more bemused than truly annoyed.
“I just meant that I thought the position might be uncomfortable for you.”
“The position is fine. The waiting I could do without.”
Not wanting to displease him, Optimus thrust his spike into his valve, first with caution, then more boldly as he felt first the inviting warmth envelop him, and the slight pulsing squeeze of Starscream's inner callipers. Their bodies moved in sync, made aligned by their shared sparks, a feedback loop building that fed into the heat of their processors and frames. Their emotions and feelings jumbled together into one whole that seemed impossible to disentangle. Starscream held onto him, moans building in intensity as they chased further overloads together. Optimus leaned down to place some kisses along his partner's jawline and neck, hot plating leaving his lips tingling. Caught up in the moment, he kissed Starscream properly but pulled away quickly at the feeling at the overtook him. A deep grief briefly flooded his processor and spark, one whose origin he couldn't pinpoint. Ever since his reformatting, he'd gotten random bursts of mournful emotions, often when he did something that reminded him of Ariel or the like. Never this powerful, though being in an emotionally charged moment might have intensified his sporadic melancholy. Not wanting to ruin their moment, he did his best to smother the negative emotion, focusing instead on the pleasure radiating throughout his frame. Within a few moments, the misplaced grief faded to a distant ache, pulled far away from his thoughts.
Starscream didn't seem to notice the negative bout of emotions, thankfully. He wrapped his legs around Optimus' waist, keeping their arrays close. The changed angle and shallower thrusts made up for the brief downturn in mood and soon Optimus reached his own release, venting hard as he overloaded inside his consort. Starscream's valve clenched hard around him, the Seeker going through his second overload. Optimus rolled over so that he too was laying on the berth. The move made their sparks let go of each other and their chest plates close. As they lay there recovering, Optimus let himself bask in the aftermath of their pleasure. He sent some of his feelings of appreciation through the nascent bond but received nothing back – the bond was probably still too weak for a proper sharing of feelings outside a sparkmerge. It would come with time.
His comm beeped, pulling him out of his mind. The steward had just sent him the reminder that he had a meeting to get to in half a joor. He huffed as he sat up, disappointed at the lack of time. While the interface had been more than pleasant, having no time to recover together or to talk was a bother. He hadn't had the chance to ask Starscream anything, about himself or about the other consorts. He couldn't shirk his duties though, no matter how much he presently wished to. Starscream stood, speaking, “A trip to the washracks would be a good idea before returning to your duties, my Prime.”
That much was true. He followed Starscream to the apartment's washracks and cleaned himself up quickly as the Seeker drew himself an oil bath. He shoved down his burst of jealousy and his longing for an oil bath himself. Since being Prime, he'd never had easier access to oil baths and other luxuries in the washrack, but he rarely indulged. When he had the time to, he often forgot he could, and when he remembered, he didn't have the time. A vicious cycle, by all accounts.
“Thank you for your visit, my Prime.” Starscream said as he prepared to leave. “I hope that our bonding will be a fruitful endeavour.”
“I am certain it will be.” Optimus agreed. If what he'd read about Starscream's educational and scientific achievements were true, there was no doubt they would bring about much positive change together.
He bid his consort a final farewell and headed out to his next meeting. As he left the harem wing, he saw Prowl coming back in alongside another of his consorts – Ratchet, if memory served – and a small gaggle of attendants. They all stopped and bowed their heads as he passed, and he didn't hear them moving again until he was much further down the hall. It was a standard bit of etiquette amongst the varied servants in the Prime's household. He didn't much care for it, finding it a waste of time for nearly everyone involved, but had yet to convince anyone to stop doing it. It was surprising that his consorts also took part in the little ritual. Usually, mechs who only had a handful of castes of difference between them kept shows of submission for official interactions, not day to day life. While the consorts' caste was outside of the establish hierarchy in Iacon, Optimus figured that if it was inside of it, its only possible position would be directly below the Prime caste (of which he was the current only member), at the same level as the caste dedicated to the creations and siblings of the previous and current Prime.
One of his countless aides – Greenside, he thought - came to meet him before he made it to the meeting, handing him a datapad with the information about what was coming up. An introductory meeting with some noble mechs, interested in the founding of a new colony on some mineral rich planet. “They already have most questions of logistics answered.” Greenside said as he read through the datapad. “They will only need your approval to requisition labour-castes. They also hope to have the cost of transporting the lower caste colonists subsidized.”
A new colony. He'd yet to have the chance to go through the process of planning and approving a new colony. It would surely be an interesting experience. A shame that everything had already been planned, it seemed. When he entered the meeting room, there was already a highly detailed map of the planned colony up on the projection screen, including a timeline along the bottom of the image highlighting that this would be its appearance in the first vorn. The timeline highlighted that there were fifty vorns already planned for this colony, despite the fact that had yet to even be approved. One of the mechs who'd been waiting stood and came to shake his hands, smile inviting and betraying his excitement.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my Prime,” The mech spoke, “Allow me to introduce myself and my compatriots. My designation is Photonburst. This is Flamefall, and Groove. Our grandsire is Senator Gridstop?”
The designation was familiar enough that Optimus was sure he'd met the mech, but not sure where, when or why. Looking over the three, he could see a passing resemblance between them. Siblings or cousins, he wondered?
“Yes, I am familiar with Senator Gridstop.” Optimus told them. Discretely, he messaged his aide for a quick rundown on who Gridstop was. Within moments, he had a short summary at his disposal - a politically conservative mech, though supportive of the burgeoning movement to allow greater immigration between different city-states. Owner of several media brands. He'd been sitting in the Senate since before Optimus had emerged. “Is he involved with this project?”
“Ah, no. Well, unless you count his moral support and mentorship. But nothing official.”
“One can never understate the value of good mentorship.” Without his own mentor, Optimus wasn't sure where he would be. Probably not Prime, but also probably not where he had been before either.
“I couldn't have said it better myself,” Photonburst agreed. “Now, we all know you're a very busy person, so we don't want to take any more of your time than necessary. Especially since I know you've just had a sizeable shakeup in your household recently.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, though I would not want to rush you. I am certain your proposal deserves the time it will take to present it well.”
“Well, thank you very much, my Prime.” Photonburst said, “Still, we'll try to keep things simple.”
Optimus nodded at him, grateful for the consideration. Many bots did not show so much care, running their meetings later than planned with no worries as to who they could be inconveniencing. No one had yet to kick up a fuss about his occasional lateness, though it was undoubtedly simmering in the back of many processors.
The three mechs jumped right into giving their presentation, highlighting the planned grid of the city, different sectors dedicated to varied industries, housing complexes and what sorts of exports and imports the colony would be producing and relying on. They had even planned what sorts of public monuments they would raise in the colony once things were more settled. All in all a very complete plan, though also a very costly one. Such an effort being largely privately funded was absolutely baffling to Optimus. Nearly all the funds were coming from a small handful of Iaconian families. The amount of money these families were just sitting on and prepared to spend seemed impossibly vast. He knew that he had much more wealth at his disposal as the Prime, but the part of him raised in the lower castes still couldn't believe it all.
The craziest part about it all was that the families funding the endeavour weren't even largely involved in the industries that the colony would be focused on. It was planned to be a mining colony first, with facilities to process the ores arriving a few vorns into its hypothetical existence. The vast majority of the population would be low-caste labourers. But the mechs before him came from media families and their other supporters were no more implicated in such industries. Of the three, only Photonburst even had working experience at all, managing one of his grandsire's many enterprises – Flamefall had only just graduated from one of Iacon's many business schools, while Groove had been 'travelling' around Cybertron for the past few vorns to 'get to know the world.' It made Optimus wonder how and why they'd chosen to open up a mining colony. Despite that, there was nothing in their proposal that made him think it was an entirely ill thought out venture. He kept some notes throughout their presentation to make sure none of his concerns had simply been overlooked in the meeting but were already accounted for elsewhere.
“Your proposal is promising.” He told them when they finished what they had prepared. “And I believe your venture has merit. I have a few questions and concerns to get through before signing off on anything.”
“Of course, my Prime.” Flamefall said, “I'd be concerned if you didn't have questions.”
“First, I noticed a lack of planned educational institutions in your planning. Outside of the school planned for the creations of the managerial caste, it seems there will be no places of learning within the colony.”
“We figured that the higher caste families would hire private tutors or send their creations to study in Iaconian boarding schools. The cost of having a proper academy for the amount of bots it would serve is simply too high.” Photonburst said. “I myself have already chosen which tutors I would bring for the education of my own creation.”
“Yes, I assumed that was the intention for the higher castes.” Optimus said. “However, I was referring to the lower castes. Nearly seventy percent of your population will be labourers, and miners at that. Yet there are no schools for them.”
Miners occupied some of the lowest levels of society, considered lowly even amongst others of the bottom-rungs of the hierarchy. While they were rarely very educated, not providing schools at all would be a gross oversight.
“We looked into the educational systems in Kaon, where we plan on acquiring most of our labour force.” Photonburst said. “Most bots there are educated by their creators and learn their trade through experience, not study.”
“I am aware of such practices.” Optimus said. He'd been born to dockworkers, after all, and that wasn't exactly a profession that necessitated much reading. “That does not mean schooling should not be provided for those interested. All bots are expected to have access to at least a rudimentary education in history, theology and basic sciences.” The schools that he'd attended as a sparkling and youngling had been far from impressive, but they'd allowed him to gain the experience necessary to apply and get a frame exception permit to work in an archive.
“I'm certain I could plan for the construction of a school...” Flamefall tapped away at his datapad for a moment, face slightly pinched. “It would have to wait until the third vorn, since essential infrastructure would have to be prioritized over education – I'm sure you understand – but it would be functional. Would its construction be subsidized by your offices?”
“The education of the populace is the duty of the state. Of course the construction of a school would be subsidized.” Optimus had made his intent at improving education clear to his aides and the Council. It wasn't like the were lacking in funds. Still, a single school? He doubted that would be nearly enough.
“My next concern is also about the colonists. Have you reached out to Kaon's government to see about interest in colonizing efforts? Are you certain you will be able to convince enough people about your vision? Even if relocating to a colony might prove interesting, many mechs are attached to their home cities. I have read some works from Kaonite philosophers that suggest that to many miners, Kaon's deep mines are religiously important. Convincing mechs to leave them behind might be difficult.” There was very little writing that came out of Kaon, and much of it was not written by Kaonites but rather mechs from other cities that established themselves there, or Iaconian priests passing through for some religious ceremony or other. Still, Optimus had managed to get his servos on some during their stop there while on his ascension tour. He was the first Prime to visit the city-state in such a context, and the first to have a consort from there as well.
The three of them stared at him blankly then, until Groove let out a forced-sounding laugh. “We've been in contact with several people in Kaon who assure us we will have no trouble finding sufficient colonists to bring over. With time, surely they'll be able to recreate their, uh, religious ceremonies or what-have-you in the colony.”
Optimus thought about it for a moment. “Who would it be that you have been in contact with in Kaon?” The city-state had been under the control of corporations and private individuals for most of its existence. It was only recent movements that had seen it develop its own independent government.
“Primarily Lowdown, of the Southern Mining Conglomerate.” Photonburst said. “And Senator Icequake, who owns several energon mines in Kaon's eastern sectors.”
The Southern Mining Conglomerate was a group with mines and refineries all over Cybertron, but their main seat was based in Vos, not Kaon. And Icequake was an Iaconian as well – Optimus had had several run-ins with her when he attended Senate meetings. “I have great faith in your plan for this colony, and you have clearly made plans for nearly every aspect of its existence. Still, I believe working directly with Kaon's government would be greatly beneficial in your recruitment efforts and ensure a smoother transition. I would like a detailed report from both your group and Kaon about the matter. Also, a colony of the size you propose will need more than a singular school to accommodate its population. I would like a report on how you intend to provide support to your colonies educational sector, and how much funding Iacon would need to provide to ensure all younglings had access to basic education. Once that is ready we can have another meeting and see if I will approve the endeavour.”
Seeing the looks on not only the three mech's faces but also on the face of the aide in the room with them, Optimus might as well have been speaking gibberish. They seemed stunned and confused about his request. Had they expected him to approve it without question? Probably, given how most meetings tended to end for him. Still, the creation of a whole colony was a pretty big deal. And he was the Prime – it was his job to make sure everything ran smoothly, wasn't it? It wasn't like he was asking them to replan the whole thing. Just give him some more solid numbers and shore up the educational sectors.
Photonburst was first to recover. “Of course! We'll get all of that prepared as quickly as possible.” Despite his cheery tone, he did not seem the most enthused. Perhaps he had been taking too much of a back-seat in the governance of things. Had he earned a reputation for just approving things without too much question?
“I am certain this will prove beneficial for all involved.” Having schools would guarantee a more educated population, allowing for some amount of caste-mobility. As the colony grew, it would need bots to fill the middle castes, and it was notably difficult to convince middle caste bots to move to lower caste cities, if Optimus' own experience meant anything. He remembered a recruiting attempt in the archives, trying to get some of them to move to Stanix and get its newly opened archives running. They might as well have been trying to send them to the Pits for how well the initiative had gone. Upward mobility of the existent population would help mitigate some of that, hopefully. As for the recruitment of colonists, he didn't want to move forward with anything without proof that Kaon was in a state to provide colonists, and that they were making an educated decision.
“Yes, yes, certainly.” Groove agreed. “We will do our best to live up to your expectations, my Prime.”
“I am sure you will be able to.” Optimus said. “It is simply that the founding of a new colony is no minor endeavour. I would not want it to struggle due to issues that could have been prevented.”
“Your insights are without parallel.” Flamefall simpered. “As expected from a Prime from a scholarly caste.”
Optimus did not agree that his insights were particularly deep, but knew better than to voice such a thought. He stood up. “I look forward to our next meeting.”
“Of course, of course.” Photonburst said. “Soon, I hope. There are many people waiting for this colony to bear fruit.”
“As soon as you have prepared what I have requested.” Optimus tried to make it clear with his tone that he would not be convinced otherwise. Regardless of any eagerness about the colony, he was not aware of anything that would make its creation an actually pressing matter. He didn't want the first colony founded under his rulership to be lacking in any way. Nor did he want Kaon breathing down his back about the matter if they weren't properly consulted. He had a Kaonite consort, after all, snubbing them would only be a political and personal mess waiting to happen. Perhaps speaking to his consort and getting his advice would help. The file on the mech had been sparse, but maybe he would be interested in getting involved with the colony, if it was populated by mechs from his home city.
After saying his goodbyes, he left the room, aide following closely behind him. “My Prime, delaying this colony's foundation might not be the wisest of moves. There is much support behind its creation, and high hopes for its profitability.”
“I am not planning on delaying it for very long.” Optimus said. “And these mechs knew that there was a possibility of delays when they came to meet me. If they did not want the Prime's opinion, they should not have decided to found a colony.”
“Yes, my Prime.” Greenside conceded, though a flash of nervousness covered his face. “Your voice speaks true, as always.”
One cycle, Optimus would like to hear what his aides thought of him beneath all of the complimenting and general bending to his whims. While the Senate, Council and priesthood all stood their ground and were more insistent about him not getting too involved with things they claimed they had well in hand, everyone else seemed almost scared of his reactions at times. He did not enjoy the feeling of disconnection it gave him in the slightest.
Notes:
Tell me what you thought! I live for commentary. (and i appreciate it if anyone notices typos and such for me to fix).
We're starting to see some Proper Plot outside of the conflict with the harem... These questions of education and colonies will become much more important as time goes on, as Optimus realizes more and more about Cybertron's dark sides. Optimus is trying to actually Be the Prime for once, and seeing how little people actually expect him to do that.
I'm hoping the scene with Starscream was enjoyable. He's much better at hiding his discomfort than Prowl is, but I tried to make his own worries come through, even if Optimus completely Did Not notice.
Chapter 3
Summary:
Optimus deals with the rest of his work cycle, and meets with his Polyhexan consort.
Notes:
Hello hello!
Thank you to everyone who commented, kudos'd and bookmarked last chapter! Engagement encourages me to work faster! I had family visiting recently, which slowed down my usual writing pace, but I was thinking about this everyday.
You may notice that the work is off anonymous. I decided to make myself a new AO3 to separate what I used to write as a teen with my sister, and what I write now. I had kept things anon before because it was on my old account, but I thought this would be better. If you see someone in the comments replying as the author that has a different name than this, that's just me on my old account :3
This chapter is the second-last chapter of what I'm defining as the "introduction chapters." After this, the plot is (hopefully) going to pick up more and we'll really get into the intrigue ;P
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
One meeting with the priests about an upcoming blessing ceremony at an altar he'd never heard of, and two joors of sitting in his throne room doing – well, not much, really – later, Optimus was ready for time alone. Time spent holding court meant sitting around and occasionally having someone come up and sing his praises or ask for a minor favour. The Council claimed that it served to establish his presence and allowed the people to see him and be comforted by the aura of their Prime. Optimus could see the appeal, kind of, but the vast majority of mechs who came to see him in those periods were not representative of the whole of Cybertron, or even Iacon. It was by and large noble mechs who would come by, with the occasional bourgeois mid-caste. In the lulls of activity, he tried to reach Ariel. She'd been strangely silent since his ascension to the Primacy, and with each passing cycle he missed her more. Bonding and spending time with his new consorts reminded him of the time he'd spent with her, and he wished she was around to help him navigate it all. The two of them had sparkmerged rarely, and when he'd awoken as a Prime their bond had been missing. He hoped she didn't think he'd chosen to snap their bond.
His messages to her remained unanswered. He toyed with the idea of finding the time to go and see her in person. It would be a logistical nightmare, and a cursory glance at his schedule for the next quartex did not bode well for any semblance of 'free time,' but it was not impossible. The Senate would function just fine if he took a cycle off from rubber-stamping their proposals, and the Council worked without his input most of the time anyways. It wasn't like the planet was facing any crises. He hadn't spent enough time with any of his consorts yet to confidently say he'd leave any of them in charge for a cycle where he was away, but he would have the time to explore the possibility. With his aides and a councillor or two, it shouldn't be an issue. Speaking of his consorts, the time block off for his evening fuel, which he usually took alone or in a meeting, had a flag for meeting with them on the schedule – but also a notice that he was running nearly twenty breems late and would have less than a joor to refuel. After what happened with Starscream earlier, he was reticent to go visit one of them in their rooms. Not that he expected them all to be rushing to bond and interface, but evidence suggested some might be searching for that. He didn't have the time nor the energy to entertain another such interaction at the moment.
The meeting directly after the evening fuel was expected to take up the rest of the working cycle, ending long after most would have turned in for the night. The attendees other than himself were three nobles from Iacon and two from Polyhex, coming to discuss 'current affairs.' The vague intended purpose and backgrounds of the bots coming had let the meeting slip in as a social event rather than work – Optimus doubted it would be purely social, but it wouldn't be the first time such a mistake had made its way onto his schedule. The Iaconians in attendance were all long time expats to Polyhex according to the notes, and the Polyhexans were related to a handful of prominent families. Polyhex's culture was similar to Iacon's, but he preferred to have bots at his side that were more familiar with different city states whenever he had to interact with non-Iaconians. Better have a few extra mechs present with more knowledge than him that ultimately served little purpose, than to make a serious blunder unintentionally. However unlikely it was with Polyhexans, it was never an impossibility. At least there were other Iaconians in attendance, but he wouldn't want to overly reliant on guests to act as interpreters if anything did come up. This close to the meeting time and at the end of the day, calling for someone to come assist would be a fruitless endeavour – anyone who might even agree to come in wouldn't be likely to arrive in time.
A cursory glance at the schedule for the consorts provided him with a potential fix to his issue. He'd yet to meet his Polyhexan consort, Jazz, formally, and dinner would be a good setting to get to know each other. There, he could ask him if he was interested in attending the evening's meeting and acting as a cultural bridge if needed. If Jazz said no, nothing would change for the meeting. If he said yes, then Optimus would have his support at least. And seeing as Jazz came from a prominent family himself, he might know the bots in attendance already. It would be a win-win situation.
He sent a message to the steward, reminding himself that he would have to ask the consorts for their personal comms. Using an intermediary for something as mundane as a dinner invitation was far from ideal. Within a few kliks, he had a confirmation that Jazz would be heading to the primary dining room shortly. He rushed over to make sure that he wasn't going to make Jazz wait after having invited him. He arrived to a well prepared dining room, as always. It was one of three that was officially part of his residence. One for cycle to cycle private use, one for intimate guests like friends and family, and one for larger functions. There was also a shared dining area in the harem wing, for the consorts' personal use, but it wasn't intended to host any supplementary guests. Now, on the table was a spread of a variety of fuels that had become standard fare for Optimus. Three types of liquid energon – one a fine high grade, the other a sparkling midgrade, and the final a more common sort of midgrade that Optimus had specifically requested for himself, missing his old way of life – alongside varied transformed versions – small, crunchy cubes and jellies in all shapes and colours. Next to all of it were other types of fuel, including organic substances come from the colonies. Terrible for the frame, the kinds of things that stuck in your lines and blackened your vents, but delicious enough to be worth it when one felt a craving. Too much fuel for a single mech to ever hope to consume for a single meal, but no amount of talking to the staff had convinced the kitchens to ever produce less. Unlike most of the time, where a single place was set out, there were now two. It was a heartening thing to finally see the long table and small feast be prepared for more than just Optimus. Since becoming Prime, he had fuelled either alone, or in more formal settings. He missed sitting at a table full of friends and enjoying a meal together, even if they were all squished together and the fuel wasn't the best.
He sat at the table and tried to recall as much as he could about Jazz. He had looked the files for most consorts over just before the bonding ceremony, but there were eight of them and some of the details blurred slightly together. He wasn't waiting long before the doors to the dining room were opened and a servant announced the arrival of his consort. All photos of Jazz before his appointing to the harem showed him as an almost entirely black and white mech, much like Prowl, save for the presence of a blue visor. Highlights had been added along his body now, lines consisting of one red stripe and one blue one working up his arms and his shoulders, joining together to make one thicker blue stripe sided by red down the centre of his chest. His waist remained black and unmarked, but the red and blue highlighting was present along his pelvis and legs as well, all the way down to his pedes. As a mech implicated in government service, his armour had not been particularly bulky, but it was clear that he had undergone modifications. His upper body was much slimmer, and his legs had been slimmed down as well. Looking over him, Optimus had a brief feeling that something was missing, but could not identify what. Perhaps the long cycle was getting to him.
He stood to greet Jazz, returning the smaller mech's bow and pulling his seat out for him. Jazz smiled at him, a wide, friendly smile that could put anyone at ease. Optimus returned his smile, feeling more confident about the coming evening already. “I am glad you were free to join me this evening,” Optimus said, “Fuelling by myself most nights has become nothing short of lonesome.”
“I'll be glad to alleviate your loneliness, my Prime.” Jazz said. “I can only hope I'll be good enough company.”
“I worry more about my own company being lacking.” Optimus spoke with a small chuckle, “I have had a busy cycle, as it often is, and I fear I have an ulterior motive to inviting you here tonight.”
“Oh? I hope I haven't done anything wrong.” His tone was light, teasing, a laugh following his words.
“Certainly not. Rather, I have a favour to ask of you.”
“You know I couldn't deny you anything, my Prime.” Jazz said. “What do you need me for?”
“After this, I have a meeting planned with some visiting bots of the noble caste. I am not certain exactly what their purpose is, but I imagine it will be a busy evening nonetheless. Several of them happen to be from Polyhex, and I was hoping you would be willing to join me to meet with them. Just to ensure there are no misunderstandings between all of us, though I doubt any would happen regardless.”
Jazz hesitated for a moment, looking away from Optimus and staring at his plate. Eventually, he took a deep vent in and turned back toward him. “Of course, my Prime. It would be my pleasure.” He smiled, sweet, before looking away again, this time to focus on helping himself to some of the fuel that was set out. Optimus followed his lead, filling his cup with the midgrade and grabbing a few solid items, for variety if nothing else.
“If you do not wish to come tonight, I have no issue with you returning to your rooms after this. I might not be the most diplomatically adept, but I should be able to avoid any grave misunderstanding even without your support.”
“As if I could say no to a mech as handsome as you.” Jazz said, “And anyways, it'll be nice to see some folks from home. The other consorts are nice and all, but sometimes you just want to relax with mechs who get what you're saying when you talk about your life.”
“I agree completely. Since becoming Prime, conversation with bots who understand the sort of life I used to lead have become precious rarities.” At least he was still in Iacon and could count on the mechs around him to know at least a little bit about the popular books and music he'd enjoyed, or be able to share his enjoyment for certain types of local delicacies. His consorts were from all sorts of different cities, and the palace staff were almost all born in Iacon.
“We have all the time in the world to get used to each other and get some understanding going.” Jazz said. “I know that I'm eager to get to know you and your history.”
“Perhaps in the future we will miss the days where we still had things to learn about each other.” Optimus said. “My predecessor reigned for thousands of vorns, and his consorts remained at his side for the whole of it. I can only imagine the sorts of relationships they had with each other.”
“Nothing but the most spark-warming of stories, I'm sure.” Jazz said. “But let's not dwell too much on those that are in our past.”
“Of course, of course.” Optimus said, “i was hoping we could get to know each other slightly. Though I've spent some time with both Prowl and Starscream, we actually had little time to speak. I feel as though all of you are still strangers to me.”
“You'll find that I'm an open book. Anything you want, I'll give.” Jazz reached for the highgrade and poured some into his cup, though Optimus could have sworn he had already poured himself some. Must have been midgrade. Two cups of highgrade that quickly was not a good idea – Optimus knew he would have started to feel a good buzz at that sort of pace, he was much larger than Jazz.
“I simply wonder what it is that brings you joy, what you do in your free time.” Optimus said. “I have also been curious about what you and the other consorts have been up to. I often thought about what you all might have been up to during your quartex of isolation. Perhaps you could start by telling me a little bit about your life in Polyhex.”
“Starting off with the easy questions?” Jazz sipped his drink. “I was born to a family of civil servants. Not quite what I'd call noble caste or anything like that, but definitely pretty well off. My sire was the ambitious type though, and she bought her way up several castes while I was growing up, and took me and my creator with her – the kind of one in a million case that you don't see a lot. I think she always hoped that I'd follow in her footsteps, but I don't think I was up to that. I spent a lot of time figuring myself out before actually settling into a proper job. By then my sire had earned a spot on the Council back in Polyhex, so she was able to pull some strings and get me working with the Director of Intelligence.” He took another sip. “I figure I would've ended up with his job eventually if I had stayed in Polyhex. Dunno how good at it I would've been.”
“Did you ever figure out anything about yourself before getting that job with the Director of Intelligence?”
Jazz shrugged, continued sipping his drink. “I was young and dumb with rich creators. I explored a lot. Mostly I spent a lot of time learning about music, how to play different instruments, and going out to clubs and trying to find the best Polyhex's artist castes had to offer.”
“I would love to hear you play sometime, if you would be willing.” Optimus said. “When I visited Starscream, I saw that he had some instruments in his apartments as well. Have you two thought of maybe playing together?”
Jazz gave him a weird look, as though his question were strange. “If Starscream plays any instruments, he hasn't talked to me about it. But I think the instruments are standard fare for all of us consorts – I know I had a set when I arrived. Prowl mentioned he had some in his rooms as well and having them put away, but I don't think we're all secretly musicians.”
Optimus hummed. Instruments was a strange thing to place in the apartments of bots who had no noted interest in music and were from non-artistic castes. “Perhaps Sentinel's consorts took up playing while they lived in the palace and the staff thought you all might as well.”
“Maybe.” Jazz agreed. “I've made use of the instruments in my rooms. It's a good way to spend the time.”
“I had wondered if you were all quite bored in isolation.” Optimus admitted. “Hopefully it was not so terrible. From now on you all should benefit from much more freedom.”
“We didn't have much time to sit around and be bored, I think.” Jazz said. “We had plenty of... lessons, that we had to attend, basically every cycle. Makin' sure we were worthy of being the Prime's consorts, and all that.”
“I had my fair share of lessons to attend when I first became Prime as well.” Optimus said. “Considering our unique castes, I imagine the priests and Council are keen to make sure we are able to embody them well, to give a good example to the rest of Cybertron.”
“We were all well educated in our new role, you don't need to worry about that.”
“I never doubted it.” Optimus said. “Have you at least gotten close to some of the other consorts in the time? You mentioned speaking with Prowl?”
“The First Consort tends to host the rest of us in his apartments every few cycles. Should be on the schedule, if ever you're looking for us and we're all missing from our rooms. Me and him, we don't have much in common but he's fun to hang around with. When we run into each other, Soundwave and I tend to get along. He spent a lot of time working in entertainment, so he has a finer audial than the others for good music. And he brought a ton of Kaonite music with him. That stuff's not easy to find.”
“If it is anything like trying to obtain Kaonite writings, I understand your feelings completely.” Jazz's words put Optimus even more at ease about what was happening with Prowl. His First Consort appeared to be getting along with the others, if his hosting the others so regularly was any indication.
“Things are on the rise for Kaon, at least. Maybe it'll be easier to get your servos on Kaonite works in the future.” Jazz said, “What sorts of things do you like to read?”
“Anything that strikes my interest.” Optimus said. “I have always enjoyed learning, but I cannot deny the pleasure of a good fiction novel when I have the time.”
“I'd love some recommendations, if you have any to make.” Jazz said. “The others, as well, I'm sure.”
“It would be my pleasure. I will do my best to supply you with anything you ask for.” Optimus said. Jazz smiled at him but didn't say more, and the two of them fell into a silence that was veering toward awkwardness, each more focused on their fuel than each other. Just as Optimus was figuring out what to say next to break the silence, Jazz spoke up again.
“My Prime, will you want to bond before we head to your meeting?”
There was only about ten breems before they would have to head off to the meeting. Feasibly enough time to bond, but far from enough to let it settle well and far from the most intimate of moments. Definitely not enough time to deal with any potential complications, positive or negative. “I believe waiting would be more advantageous.” Optimus said, glad that he could at least deflect Jazz's request to bond. Saying no to a verbal request was much easier than what saying no to what Starscream had pulled. “I hope I have not given any of the consorts the implication that there is any sort of rush to our bonding. If you truly wish to bond tonight, I am certain we could after the meeting.” In reality, Optimus was not the most thrilled at the thought of bonding for the third time in not even two full cycles. Weariness was already bearing down on him, and he doubted it would get better until after a good recharge cycle. But he didn't want to disappoint Jazz either.
“If you're too tired to bond tonight, I understand.” Jazz said. “Maybe I could help you relax some after this meeting though. I can't imagine how stressful it is to be the Prime.”
“Not that I do not appreciate the proposition, but I fear I am also too tired to be a good interface partner tonight.” Optimus said.
“Don't worry. I'm not expecting you to exert yourself.” He laughed, “I'm sure I can entertain in other ways. I'm not lacking in skill.”
“I have never doubted that.” Optimus said, “We can always return to this topic after the meeting, and see how we feel.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Jazz said. “Is it almost time to go?”
It very much was, and Optimus told Jazz as much as he got up from the table. He took a moment to get Jazz's comm and share his own, so that if Jazz had advice for him they could do it more subtly. They had barely made a dent in all the fuel that had been set out. Optimus sent another memo to reduce the quantity of fuel prepared for his meal, however much it was starting to feel like an exercise in futility. As they walked, Jazz kept pace just a step behind Optimus, the same way most of his aides and servants did, until he asked him to walk side by side with him. Jazz didn't say anything about it, but Optimus was secretly a bit hurt that one of his consorts assumed he should take a subservient position between the two of them. He had to figure out just what all of his consorts were expecting of him to get everyone on the same page. Maybe there was some etiquette amongst Polyhexan high caste couples that he wasn't privy to that dictated that one was expected to follow the other instead of walk side by side. When they reached the room that had been set aside for the meeting, Jazz slowly fell back to walking behind Optimus instead of by his side, almost hiding behind him.
The meeting was set in one of the sitting rooms, and the guests were all well situated when they arrived. All five of them stood to greet them, all bright smiles, no doubt helped by all the high grade that had been made available to all of them. After some introductions, Optimus took a seat on one of the larger couches that were in the room, one that would allow Jazz to sit next to him if he wanted to. For a moment, it seemed that was what the Polyhexan had in mind as he followed Optimus, but instead of sitting at his side, the smaller mech climbed onto Optimus' lap and settled there. “Is this alright, my Prime?” Jazz asked.
“Is it alright?” Optimus echoed, unsure what to do. None of the others in the room appeared bothered at all, or even confused.
“Is it comfortable?” Jazz clarified, as though that was the current snag in their discussion. He wiggled a bit in place, presumably to find a more comfortable position, but that did not help Optimus' ability to keep a straight face. His movements pressed on Optimus' modesty panel, and Optimus could feel his interfacing systems trying to start in response to the stimulus.
“Yes, yes - ! That is quite alright, Jazz.” Optimus said, mostly just wanting to avoid heating up too much while in front of a group of strangers. Jazz settled, leaning onto Optimus' chest. No one in the room had reacted.
“Thank you for hosting us.” One of the guests said, a femme with stark white armour – Shimmerlight, her name was. “We're very grateful for your time.”
“We've received a most warm welcome.” Another said, this one a mech in greens and blues - Oasis. “We were all very happy to see that the Prime's residence has kept up the same standards as were kept during the reign of Sentinel.”
“I saw no reason to make any changes to how the palace ran itself upon my ascension.” Optimus said, deciding not to mention how resistant many had been when he had suggested minor changes. “I am glad you feel well welcomed.”
“Most well welcomed.”
“If you need anything else, feel free to make request. We are not lacking in anything here.” Optimus said. “However much we are enjoying the high grade though, I imagine this is not purely a social call.” He didn't want to force them to get straight to business, but he also really did not want to spend too long here. He had nothing against the bots before him – he was sure they could get along just fine, in fact – but he was eager to get to the end of the work cycle.
“Of course not,” A third spoke, lightly armoured and covered in intricate golden detailing, Allura, “Though this isn't very deep business either.”
“We're members of the Polyhexan branch of the Free Morality Society. You might have run into some of our Iaconian members in a more unofficial capacity.” Shimmerlight spoke again. If Optimus had, the members had not made their membership in this group known to him. He would have to read more into them. Jazz, who had previously been relaxed, tensed at the mention of the group, but did not say anything. “We're heavily involved in community services, but operate outside of the government – it gives us more freedom to give help where it's needed without all the bureaucracy.”
“An admirable goal.” Optimus said. No shortage of charity or community groups would cozy up to him for some reason or other. Sometimes it was a need for funds, or access to certain restricted materials. Sometimes it was to request either his presence or that of specific priests for their events. “What sort of community work do you do?”
“We ensure society can keep running as it has.” This was the forth, with red and yellow armour, Coverfire. “Supporting mechs in finding caste-appropriate jobs when there is a need, providing counselling to mechs in cross-caste bonds about their options, things like that. We want to ensure that the moral codes that have kept Cybertron strong since its beginning are still treated with the same reverence that they deserve, while keeping a little wiggle room for the intricacies of the modern day.”
“I am glad to hear of your community efforts.” Optimus said. “How could the Primacy show its support for your efforts?”
“Currently, we aren't seeking anything other than to get to know you as a Prime.” Oasis said. “This is really a social call. Since you ascended to the Primacy from... well, let's not mince words, obscurity, we've heard some concern from our members about if you were going to perhaps be upheaving some of the most ancient institutions on our planet. Our Iaconian associates have assured us otherwise, but we wanted to see for ourselves. In a way, this is business, but ideally we just have a talk. Establishing a good working relationship now is hopefully going to be fruitful in the future, of course, but for the moment all of our needs are well met.”
True to Oasis' word, the rest of the evening was spent in conversation, touching on some philosophical matters, some political opinions, but never anything too terribly deep. It was simply the sort of conversation you had when you got to know someone. It was pleasant enough, his guests open and jovial and filled with anecdotes of their lives. They were curious about his time working in the archives under Alpha Trion, and how he had been dealing with becoming a Prime. A few times in the evening it was painfully clear that for all the community work the five did, they were pretty disconnected from the bots they sought to help, expressing surprise at Optimus' stories of his difficulties adapting from being a labour caste to a scholar caste in his young adulthood. He didn't expect it from bots so involved in cross-caste matters, but then again, he found most nobles tended to be at least a little bit uneducated about the charity work they did. Not ill intentioned, but something to be worked on.
Jazz for the most part stayed quiet except for when Optimus went out of his way to bring him into the conversation. After all, while Jazz had gone up in castes at a much younger and more malleable age than Optimus, he had still gone through the process - and in Polyhex at that, where these bots operated. He spoke about his experience and what he knew about what his parents had gone through, though never with too much emotion. There was only one moment that truly stuck out to Optimus about the evening's talks.
“It's clear to everyone in Polyhex that your creator's achievements have been well noticed.” Shimmerlight had told Jazz after he'd spoken about his family. She had a look on her face that seemed out of place with her words – almost self-satisfied, mouth curled in a smirk that was edged with... malice, seemed the best option, however poorly it fit in with the words and the tone. “We were all glad to hear of your appointment to the Primal Harem. Truly a sign that Cybertron is remaining on the right path.”
“Thank you,” Jazz said, still friendly, unchanged in tone from the rest of the conversation. “I know that if it weren't for my parents, I wouldn't be where I am now.”
“Primus always finds us a place where we belong.” Shimmerlight said. “I'm sure that with you here now, your creator's career will continue down a righteous” path.”
The exchange was short. But charged. Subtly so, but charged nonetheless. And Shimmerlight's use of righteous rubbed Optimus the wrong way. He was an archivist. He knew that different people interpreted words in different ways. It was to be expected, respected. But Shimmerlight's voice made him think that what he thought of as righteous and what she thought of as righteous would be two starkly different things. Not some cultural misunderstanding. Something greater than that. There was no space to address it though. What could he even do? Tell Shimmerlight that the way she said a word made him nervous? That would be an incident waiting to happen. Regardless, the rest of the evening was just fine, and the guests left in a good mood.
On their way back toward his apartments, Optimus tried to see if Jazz felt alright after everything, but Jazz skillfully avoided any true answers and instead focused on expressing his excitement for spending the night together. When they reached the berthroom, Jazz wasted no time in exploring the space, poking around in everything, though clearly keeping an eye on Optimus, who took a moment to polish out a few scrapes he'd acquired bumping into things throughout the day. Eventually he'd get used to his new body. After thoroughly examining the bookcase, Jazz made his way to the berth and sat on it.
“So how d'ya want me?” He asked, leaning back on his arms.
“I believe I am too tired to interface or bond tonight, Jazz. I apologize for any disappointment.” Optimus said, putting away his polishing cloths and going to sit next to Jazz on the berth. “If you do not feel ready to recharge yet, we could find something more relaxing to do.”
“I can think of something more relaxing for you,” Jazz side, sliding off the berth and getting on his knees at Optimus' pedes. His servos came up to Optimus' thighs as he looked up from his position. “This should be low effort enough on your end, shouldn't it?”
“Ah, I am not certain that this is what I had in mind...” Optimus said, breaking the intense optic-contact that Jazz had been keeping. He could feel Jazz's servos roaming ever higher along his legs, up toward his pelvis.
“All you need to do is sit back and relax, my Prime.” Jazz assured, “It'll help me rest easier, knowing I was able to help you de-stress from the long cycle.”
“Would it truly be pleasing to you?” Optimus asked. He knew that oral interfacing could be very one-sided and that not everyone was overjoyed at giving but not receiving in return. Well. He would hopefully have many opportunities to return the favour in the future, but he didn't make a habit of not reciprocating at least a little bit.
“Nothing makes me happier than knowing my mate is well cared for.” Jazz said, enthusiasm seeping into his voice, servos gently pushing on Optimus' thighs to get him to open his legs.. “Please let me. I promise, I'm very good at this.”
Optimus could tell that Jazz was very determined to get what he wanted, and acquiesced shortly, wondering where his consorts got their enthusiasm for interfacing. Well, Prowl had been insistent but not necessarily what he would call enthusiastic, but Starscream and now Jazz clearly had interfacing at the forefront of their minds – especially considering Jazz's little lap-sitting stunt, which Optimus hoped was just some Polyhexan custom he didn't know. He let his modesty panelling slide open, trying to focus on Jazz now instead of Jazz from a few joors ago. Now's Jazz had begun to lick the entrance to Optimus' spike sheath, tongue slipping inside and teasing Optimus' spike toward erection. It wasn't long before it had fully pressurized. Jazz, as he had promised, was good at sucking spike. At first, he had focused on using only his mouth, licking up the length of Optimus' spike languidly, then taking the tip into his mouth, slowly taking it deeper and deeper into his intake. He was in no rush, focused, finding what made Optimus react most and continuing down that path.
He seemed determined to take as much of Optimus' spike into his intake as possible, which Optimus was decidedly not against him trying until it seemed to be crossing the threshold into pain. However good it felt for him, he would have to be blind to see the strain it was placing on Jazz. He was attempting to hide it, but Optimus knew that with their size difference, avoiding pain at all would be difficult. Still there was a difference between mild discomfort or a small pain and what was clearly shaping up to be damage-inducing pain. He was not able to convince Jazz to stop, but he was able to get him to start using his servos more instead of trying to force himself to deepthroat. Jazz wrapped a servo around the base of Optimus' spike and redoubled his efforts, sucking, squeezing, letting out the nicest little moans.
Optimus overloaded with a gasp. He had felt it coming, quickly, and tried to pull away, but Jazz had resolutely not let that happen, keeping his spike in his intake and swallowing his transfluid. It had come much sooner than he'd anticipated, roaring through him and leaving him venting and leaning back, looking up at the ceiling. As he recovered, he felt Jazz pull away from his spike and looked back down at his mate. His softening spike started re-pressurizing at the sight of the Polyhexan on his knees, faced flushed, venting, some of Optimus' transfluid dripping down his chin. He looked away and laid down on the berth, venting and trying to clear his mind and calm himself down. He felt Jazz coming up onto the berth next to him after a moment. “I can take of you if you're still feeling a need.” Jazz said.
“No, Jazz, thank you.” Optimus said, sitting up, “That was amazing, and I hope to return the favour in the near future. However, for now, I think we should try to recharge, if you are still happy with that plan.”
Jazz nodded at him, “Recharge works for me too. I'll go clean up a bit and join you in a klik, if that's alright?”
“Of course, Jazz. You do not need to ask.”
True to his word, Jazz was quick in the washrack and soon coming back to the berth, curling up next to Optimus without a word. By then, he'd managed to calm himself down and sheathed his spike, his internal temperatures back to normal. He had been hit by a supplementary wave of exhaustion, which reminded him that his interfacing habits before the Bonding Ceremony had been, generously called, sporadic, and his body was not used to this. He hadn't interfaced at all since becoming Prime, and before then, the times where he and Ariel were able to meet tended to come less than a decacyle, and even then they didn't always interface, and it was rare that he took other berth partners. Part of him figured that things would calm down once he had bonded and gotten to know all of his consorts, and that they had all gotten to know each other. A different part told him that according to custom, he was now the exclusive berth partner to all of his consorts and even if each of them separately wanted to interface only once a decacycle, he would be interfacing nearly every cycle to keep up with them. Though...he doubted his consorts would try to find partners outside of the Primal household, but there was no way consorts didn't interface with each other, right? Treating the harem as more of a large group bond instead of, well, a harem, seemed the most logical way to make sure everyone's needs were met. He didn't know what had been the norm in previous generations. Would the consorts be offended if he brought up the idea to them? Or would they find him oblivious to assume it even had to be mentioned? Even as he was starting to doze off, he was telling himself it would be easier to actually plan these things if he knew all of his consorts sooner rather than later. Meeting everyone individually was more intimate, but meeting them as a group wasn't lacking in intimacy either. Maybe he could ask if everyone was open to having a group meal or a shared evening next cycle to have a discussion about their shared future. Just before falling into recharge, he set himself a reminder to contact Prowl and perhaps the harem stewards about arranging something.
Notes:
Hope everyone enjoyed :D
Still getting back into the swing of writing, and figuring out how to write smut. Would y'all believe I'd never written anything smutty before this? I feel like it's noticeable hahaha.
Comments feed my soul, and I respond to each one I get. If ever you wanna get in touch, I made a lil tumblr (https://www.tumblr.com/alea-writes-sins). I'm not super active in posting, but if you contact me there I promise I'll get back to you! If there's an interest in the future, I might start posting more and talking about upcoming updates, mmmaybe even posting polls to see what the people want to see next. We'll see :P
QUESTION: Would it be useful for me to add a list of the rough "ages" of all the characters in the fic? I'm wondering if it would add some depth to know kinda what stage in life everyone's at, but can't think of a way to add it in without it being kinda wonky.
Chapter 4
Summary:
Optimus finally talks to all of his consorts at once, and spends some more time with his First Consort.
Notes:
I LIVE!!!
who knew moving across the country to start grad school could be so time consuming and energy draining?
Anyways, hope y'all are happy with this chapter. i struggled a lot with writing large sections of this, so I'm not super super happy with it, but I think its alright. Tell me what you think!
Also, as promised, here's the "ages" of the characters so far. Its a range for most of them because Cybertronians live for so long that I imagine exact ages mean much less than a general sort of "life stage" (like a sim, in a way). The end note of this chapter will have the ages of characters that were introduced now, and future characters will have a little age note in the chapter they get introduced in
Optimus: Mid 20s
Ariel: Mid 20s
Prowl: Early 20s
Jazz: Early 20s
Starscream: Early 30s
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Optimus woke up with Jazz still curled up right next to him in a soft recharge. He admired him for a moment before pulling away slowly, intent on not waking him if at all possible. Just as he was about to stand from the berth, confident he had left his consort soundly asleep, he felt a servo grasping his arm. Jazz was awake now, and when they made optic contact, he tugged on Optimus' arm, beckoning him back onto the berth.
“My Prime.” He said, a small purr in his voice – engine still warming up after recharge, or something more? It was early in the cycle to already be thinking of such things, at least Optimus found it so. “Did you recharge well?”
“I did.” Optimus said. “I hope you did as well?”
“Very well.” Jazz said, “Now that we're both more well rested... do you think we could bond? Or interface?”
Ah. So it was that. “Simply bonding, I would not be opposed to.” Optimus said, because he'd always found sharing sparks to be less physically draining while being more intimate than regular interface. “I think I am still a bit drained from the past two cycles, as far as interfacing goes.” He felt like a good cycle of rest before interfacing more would be necessary.
“Works for me, my Prime.” Jazz said. With that, he was quick to sit himself on Optimus' lap again, like he'd done the previous evening. Looking up at him with an affectionate smile and bright optics, Jazz opened his chest plating and exposed his spark. Optimus opened his own chest, at the same time wrapping an arm around Jazz's waist to support him. They shuddered in almost perfect synchrony when their sparks connected, emotions bleeding over in both directions. Jazz shifted, pressing their chests together and removing any possible distance between their sparks, wrapping his arms around Optimus' neck to keep him close. Jazz's spark and mind were calm, steady, erring on the side of curiosity. For the first time since he'd started bonding with his consorts, Optimus felt what was definitively the gentle prodding and exploration of his spark and mind by someone else through the bond. Neither Prowl nor Starscream had seemed overly bold during their bonding, keeping a distance. Optimus matched Jazz's exploration with his own, not delving too deep or trying to, just getting to know his consort's mind. Anytime he accidentally pushed a bit too deep, he could feel Jazz pulling away from his mind rapidly, as though rushing to stop the intrusion, a hint of panic coming through. It would fade easily though, and Jazz would return to how he had been. Optimus did his best to remain open and calm, projecting his feelings of appreciation and anticipation through the bond. They stayed sparkmerged for nearly half a joor, time Optimus usually used to get ready for the cycle and start breakfast. Still, as they pulled away, he felt good, mood lifted by the pleasant yet calm merge. No words had been exchanged, but conversation was rarely necessary during a good bonding.
“If we are done bonding for the morning, can I be dismissed?” Jazz asked once Optimus pulled away, sitting on the bed and watching him getting ready.
“Of course, if you wish to return to your rooms you are quite welcome.” Optimus said. Prowl had also asked to be dismissed the morning after their shared night. He made a mental note to bring it up when he was going to see all the consorts together. He didn't want his rooms to be some place apart that they didn't feel coming and going from freely, and he certainly didn't want to spend his life controlling the comings and goings of his partners. Jazz didn't rush to leave, but didn't linger either.
Optimus rushed through his usual morning habits while sending a comm to the on-duty harem steward about arranging a communal evening meal and asking to have his comm information shared with the consorts, alongside a message that they shouldn't feel forced to come to dinner if they didn't want to. Within a handful of breems, he's received a short comm from each consort confirming that they've received his comm and request, and that they'll be present that evening. Their responses all feel formulaic, not varying much from one consort to another, but then again, there aren't a million different ways to respond to a dinner invitation. Prowl was the only one who contacted him throughout the cycle, asking small logistical questions about the dinner. Things like seating plan (Optimus wasn't sure they needed one in the first place), how he'd like them to prepare themselves (“for dinner” was clearly not a sufficient response based on how long it took Prowl to reply with a simple “thank you, it's been noted” but it was also the only response he could think of) or if he intended people from outside the household to be in attendance. Optimus wasn't able to figure out if Prowl was just the type to be a very thorough host or if he was just going through the expected steps of preparing a dinner for the Prime and his consorts according to some etiquette that Optimus was currently unaware of. All the more reason to get everything out in the open that evening.
Rather than spending time with his consorts in his few free times during the cycle, he chose to rather do his best to keep a tight schedule and get everything he needed to get done before the evening to not end up arriving late to a dinner he had proposed. Seeing that three of his meetings ran over time, including one nearly by a whole joor, it was clearly the right call. He barely had the time to make it over to the primary dining room, and when the doors opened he saw that everyone had already arrived. His rushed entry made everyone turn to stare at him, eight sets of optics focusing on his arrival, hopefully not judging him too harshly. “Good evening, everyone. I hope that my tardiness has not made you wait for too long.” He spoke. All eight of them dipped their heads simultaneously, greeting him silently.
“We have only been waiting a short while, my Prime.” Prowl spoke, “And no time waiting for you is time wasted.”
“Still – I do try to keep to my schedule.” Optimus said. “As you might imagine, being a Prime means that is not always possible.”
“You hold the most important position on Cybertron.” Starscream said. “Your time is the most precious – those who seek to meet with you should keep that in better consideration.”
Optimus moved to take his seat at the table, looking at each of his consorts in turn. “If you have suggestions to get the Senators and Councilors and whoever else to respect their meetings times, I would appreciate them.” He chuckled at the thought that such a thing would ever happen. “What does the Winglord do when he feels his time is being disrespected?” His seat was at the head of the table, with Prowl and Starscream at either side of him, and Jazz beside Prowl. A deliberate seating choice, no doubt, based in harem etiquette and politics of some kind.
“Cuts the meeting short and makes sure such a blunder won't be made again.” Starscream spoke with a slight flick of his wing. “If someone is particularly egregious in their actions, he might even throw them out of the Spire. Those incapable of flight have be particularly careful.” Sitting next to him was a red and white mech – he recognized him as Ratchet, from Rodion - who didn't seem quite impressed with how the Winglord supposedly comported himself. Ratchet was counted among the three unexpected consorts that had been declared for Optimus during the tour. While Rodion had once been an incredibly prominent city, it had fallen hard during the reign of Sentinel, and had been expected to lose its harem position with Optimus' ascension. Not only that, but Ratchet was the oldest of the consorts and lower caste than most, having gained prominence as the chief doctor in Rodion's most important hospital, but never being granted a caste exemption to occupy any sort of political position – he would have been an unusual choice from any city, really.
“I do not know if I would be open to using such methods.” Optimus said, half certain that Starscream was joking, or at least exaggerating. “And I fear throwing a mech out of the Palace would not be half as frightening as throwing them from the Spire. The fall would be much too short.”
Well. It was rare that his jokes fell so flatly. He knew he was no born comedian, but his consorts were all staring at him blankly, or politely forcing small chuckles. He'd have to workshop his humour a bit. Instead of dwelling on it, he tried to push beyond the small embarrassment trying to grow in the back of his mind, and focused on the other consorts at the table. Next to Ratchet were the two other unexpected consorts, both with blue paint, though worn very differently. Mirage, a consort hailing from Iacon, who was predominantly white with blue on his limbs and helm, and Soundwave, from Kaon, who was almost all blue.
Mirage was unexpected as, despite Iacon's prominence, it had never had a consort representative in the past, as the Prime was meant to be the Iaconian piece of the harem puzzle. A popular theory that Optimus had seen floating around some news sources (well, mostly tabloids, but a form of news nonetheless) was that Mirage was chosen to ensure a noble Iaconian presence within the harem, since Optimus came from the lower castes. Personally, Optimus wasn't sure why Primus would be so concerned about such a thing – the Prime was meant to represent all of Cybertron's population, regardless of caste. If he wasn't able to represent Iacon's noble castes simply because of his birth caste, then by the same logic, no previous Prime would have been able to represent the non-noble castes. Sure, no Prime was perfect, and he had no shortage of ways he wanted to fix things and reverse choices made by his predecessors, but being a Prime was no easy job. But Optimus, despite being the wielder of the Matrix, was blind to Primus' will. He trusted that all things would reveal themselves in time. Seeing Mirage now though, he was struck by the other's youth. Optimus was still in his (relatively) early adulthood, but Mirage was only a handful of vorns into his majority. He stood out sitting in between Ratchet and Soundwave, who were the oldest two consorts.
As for Soundwave, he was Kaon's first consort, and the consort with the lowest origin caste. There was little that was known about him outside of the basics and what had come out after his appointment to the harem. He was heavily involved with the Kaonite renaissance that was happening, and a close associate of its leader, an ex-gladiator who went by the name of Megatron. Optimus hadn't had the chance to meet with him during their stop in Kaon, time taken up by Kaon's few noble castes and priests. According to Soundwave's file, he had also been a gladiator of some renown before becoming involved with Kaonite politics. In most cities, gladiators were not only rare but of very low caste, but in a city like Kaon, dominated by labour castes, they stood as a sort of caste-exception. Entertainer castes were not high on the hierarchy, but they did well enough for themselves, and gladiators in Kaon were generally wealthy and well known enough to punch above their weight class when it came to caste matters. He was eager to speak to Soundwave about it all. He also couldn't help but briefly stare at the shiny black glass across Soundwave's chest. Cassette-carriers were rare, and Optimus had never had the chance to meet one himself.
Across from Soundwave and Mirage were two consorts that came from cities and backgrounds that were more in line with traditional harem representatives. Chromia was from Caminus, the creation of some high ranking military bots who'd gained power and fame by stopping at attempted coup of Nyon's senate by corrupt officials. Chromia herself had been considered not only an impressive up and coming femme in the military sphere, but also in the racing circuits, where she'd won several titles in recent vorns. Next to her was Perceptor, from Altihex. His sire was a noble who owned several of Altihex's key spaceports, and his creator was the director of one of Altihex's most renowned universities and sat on the city's council of elders. Perceptor himself was rather uninvolved with politics and public affairs, but had distinguished himself as a scientist both in Altihex and Iacon. Optimus noticed that Perceptor's previously black chest was now painted in red, a much bolder look than before.
Looking at the feast set out before them and the optics waiting to see his next move, Optimus decided to just jump in to his questions for the consorts. “I hope you all have been settling in to life here in the Palace.” He said. “I thought it would be useful for us all to meet like this so I might get to know you, and so that we can talk through our expectations for our lives together. Seeing as we are likely going to be mates for hundreds if not thousands of vorns, it is important that we all know where we stand in relation to each other.”
Prowl shifted slightly in his seat, doorwings flicking up and down before he spoke, “We have all been following the general directives set out for us upon our arrival in the Palace, in accordance to the harem's etiquette rules. If any of us have displeased you or followed them incorrectly, I'll make sure to have the behaviour corrected.” He glanced toward Starscream and Jazz, optics analytical and face serious, as though one of them might have done something wrong.
“No, no, you have all been wonderful, in the short time I have been able to get to know you.” Optimus said. “I just – well, as you all know, I was not always immersed in this lifestyle. I have nothing against etiquette, and if you all choose to continue following etiquette that is of course, your choice. But I personally struggle with such a structured way of interacting.”
“We're happy to adapt to anything you need.” Jazz said, “We want you to be happy.”
“Ideally we are all happy in these arrangements.” Optimus said with a hint of insistence. “I do not wish for you to sacrifice your own comforts for my sake.”
“Sacrifice is an expected aspect of -” Prowl began.
“I'm sure we're all very eager to hear your thoughts, my Prime.” Starscream jumped in, giving Prowl a bit of a look before focusing on Optimus. “Let's not waste your precious time going back and forth discussing sacrifices that might not even need to happen. I, for one, am sure anything you request will be more than reasonable.”
Prowl's doorwings hitched up and he crossed his arms but he didn't address Starscream, focused on Optimus and waiting to see him speak. “We can all discuss anything that we bring up as it happens.” Optimus said. “We all know each other very little. It is only natural that there might be some apprehension or confusion.” He didn't intend on bringing up anything that he thought would be terribly objectionable, but everyone was from such different lives that there was no way to predict any given reaction.
“We'll do our best to keep that to a minimum.” Prowl said.
“There is really no need.” Optimus assured. He hadn't expected the consorts to be at once so insistent on being accommodating yet seem so convinced that he would be put out should they ask for clarification. At least, of the ones who'd spoken. Outside of Prowl, Starscream, and Jazz, the consorts seemed content to follow silently and without much visible reaction. “We can start with something easy... I have noticed that you all refer to me by my title. I recognize that the typical etiquette for interacting with a Prime dictates that one should always do so, but given that we are all to be bonded, I would much prefer if you all refer to me by my name, especially when we are in private.”
“Do you prefer your current name or your previous one?” Jazz asked, “I heard that you went by something different before your ascension.”
“Either of my names is fine,” Optimus said, though there was a flutter in his spark at the thought of still going by his old name. There had been so space for discussion with the priests and councillors about being called by his regnal name, and he'd made peace with his new identity. But sometimes he felt as though he'd buried Orion prematurely and without proper mourning of the loss of the life he'd led. “My designation before becoming Prime was Orion Pax, if any of you did not know it.”
“It's a nice name.” Jazz smiled, “Could be one to be passed down to future bitlets.”
“If you desire such a thing, my- Optimus.” Prowl said. “I'm certain you have designation ideas in mind already for your future heirs.”
“Ah – ha, I would not say I have thought of many designations for future newsparks.” Optimus said, “Until my ascension, the thought of sparklings was far from my thoughts. My partner and I were both much too busy to consider starting a family.”
“You had a partner prior to ascension?” Prowl asked, “Did you not think of bringing them into the palace?”
“I fear I lost contact with her the moment I awoke from my metamorphosis into a Prime.” Optimus' voice wavered slightly as he remembered those first few cycles of adjustment. He'd thought of Ariel often, but not spoken of her. It felt – different. More painful, to speak the truth of their separation. “Our bond was snapped, and she has since not returned my attempts at contacting her.”
“Perhaps the thought of being a bondmate to a Prime was too overwhelming for an archivist.” Starscream said. “The simple jump in castes would be unheard of.” He stopped for a moment, staring at Optimus. “Well, nearly unheard of.”
“Oh, Ariel was not an archivist.” Optimus said. “She was a dockworker. I knew her before I changed castes.”
The boggled looks of his consorts were mildly amusing. His past as a dockworker was public knowledge, but generally kept very quiet. It was easier to get the masses to accept a Prime that had been an archivist working under Alpha Trion, than to get them accept a Prime that had been a low caste nobody. So that was the story that was told most often by the Palace publicists. Most articles he'd seen written about himself barely even touched on him being an archivist and focused more on him being Alpha Trion's apprentice. Prowl and Ratchet were the first two to recover from the befuddlement, Prowl looking like he'd moved on to trying to solve a particularly tricky riddle in his mind, and Ratchet staring at him with what Optimus could best describe as some degree of suspicion.
“She must've been an impressive femme, to capture the spark of a future Prime.” Jazz said, “Though if you really wanna see her again, there's gotta be a way for you to send for her.”
“I am certain I could.” Optimus agreed. “But if Ariel has decided to move on from our past together, I will respect her wishes. Since becoming Prime I have had to make peace with all the change I cannot undo.” There was a silence then, a contemplative one, before Optimus spoke again. “Perhaps we can speak later about our pasts. I would still like to get our futures straightened out first.”
“Of course. I apologize for how the conversation has drifted.” Prowl said quickly. “Please continue.”
“No need to apologize.” Optimus said, voice tinged with exasperation. “I – clearly, most of you are feeling pressure from your new positions. I understand. I also am under a great deal of pressure. But I would prefer us to be able to be calm, at least when together. I would rather we speak as equals, and have you all be yourselves around me. I do not want you to feel as though you need to bend every which way to please me or live up to any expectations placed on us.” Looking at all the consorts he'd yet to bond with, he also added. “It would also please me if you were all to speak freely, about whatever is on your minds.”
“I can't speak for my fellow consorts, but I assure you I've been nothing but true in my actions, Optimus.” Starscream said quickly. Optimus smiled and nodded his acknowledgement, though it wasn't Starscream he was most worried currently. He looked at Jazz, who flashed him a quick smile, then Prowl who did not seem reassured but nodded at him as well. The rest of the consorts murmured agreements, nodding.
“We're in a settling period.” Jazz added. “We're just falling back on what we were taught to expect.”
“Take as much time as is necessary.” Optimus said, “If you wish to have longer to settle without me involving myself in your personal affairs, please feel free to tell me.”
No one said anything, so he continued to the parts of the conversation instead of allowing uncomfortable silences to take over. “In terms of settling, and on the topic of bonds and sparklings, as we have brought them up – I feel no need to rush into anything. If you desire to bond soon, I am certainly willing, but I am, perhaps unfortunately, only one mech. I do not believe I will be able to, ah, keep up with interfacing at the pace of the past two cycles.” As much as he'd convinced himself that this was a conversation he needed to have, he did not appreciate the position he had put himself in. He felt somewhat foolish with his words, facing a group of people no doubt much more knowledgeable about well, everything, and talking to them about interfacing. He kept mentally trying to be one step ahead of his voice to find the best thing to say, and he knew his hesitation was noticeable. “If you do desire to interface more often than I am able to, I am not opposed to you all interfacing with each other - or even bonding! And please, do not be concerned about the conception of newsparks – ah, whether conceiving heirs with myself, or any other conceptions or attempts to prevent them. I see no reason to rush into creation myself, when we have all only just met, and there is no concern about any of our health.”
Well. That was all the important things said. Boundaries mostly set. He'd covered the things he was concerned about, hopefully in a way that did not upset any of his consorts too terribly. Based on how Prowl had been on their first night together, he knew it was likely some wouldn't be thrilled about what he'd said, but hopefully they were all understanding at the very least.
“Consorts have been known to interface with each other, traditionally.” Prowl said, “Based on personal correspondences and journals, nearly seventy percent of all harems have had such relationships.”
“If we're following the rules of the palace, as long as it all stays, well, within the harem, nothing is strictly prohibited.” Starscream said. “Outside of conception. The honour of sparking a consort should rest only with the Prime.” He punctuated the end of his sentence with a flutter of his wings, briefly resting his servo over his sparkchamber.
“Optimus.” Ratchet spoke, startling Optimus with his voice. The consorts he'd yet to bond with had been so quiet he'd almost expected them not to speak at all. The doctor had a sharp look on his face, a mix of skepticism, concern and questioning. “Since you've invited us to speak freely with you, I'll take some liberty to remind you of something that may not be obvious to you, as an outsider to this situation we're in. The bonding, the interfacing – that's all well and good. But the conception of sparklings between a Prime and their consorts is about more than providing heirs for the Primacy and ensuring loyalty. It's insurance for both the consorts and their home cities.”
Insurance? What sort of insurance could a sparkling provide that wasn't already implicitly included in their bonds? For the city-states especially – with a consort in the harem, they had a guaranteed in to the Prime household, representation for as long as Optimus reigned. There had never been a case of consorts being rejected and sent away from the Palace, meaning that they wouldn't lose that representation unless their consort died – an unlikely outcome, given how well protected they were. A sparkling wouldn't be an ideal representative of their creator's home city anyways, being that they would be largely raised and educated in Iacon and likely be biased in that way. Not to mention how a sparkling couldn't be expected to have much skill or responsibility for vorns until they were old enough to actually understand whatever difficulties were being faced by their city-states and the planet at large. At the risk of appearing foolish, he asked. “What do you mean by insurance?”
“Within the harem, one of the only ways a consort might trulydistinguish themselves is through bearing and raising the Prime's newsparks. Which means it's one of the only ways they might secure benefits for themselves and their home city – with no sparklings, there is no guarantee of the Prime's attention or care, and no chance that the next Prime will be tied to their city.” Ratchet explained.
Optimus frowned at the implications, “I had hoped you would all be able to distinguish yourselves in other ways. If you wish for sparklings, then I am not against them, but please do not feel as though it only through creation that you might find fulfilment in this circumstance we find ourselves in. And I would not want you to feel neglected by myself for any reason.” He said. It would be a crying shame to have his consorts, already well known and distinguished in their own ways, feeling as though they had to focus only on newsparks and not allowing themselves to work more directly for Cybertron's betterment.
“Some of us will surely distinguish ourselves both ways.” Starscream said.
“I am certain you will all continue to impress me and the rest of Cybertron with your skills.” Optimus said. “All this being said, I believe I have mentioned all that was weighing most heavily on me... but I would like if you could tell me more about what your expectations are concretely. What you were told upon reaching the Palace, or by your home cities.”
“When we first arrived, it was made clear to us that our primary duty, outside of conceiving newsparks, would be to serve you and to fulfil whatever request you might have of us.” Prowl said. “I know that, coming from Praxus, it is expected of me to ensure my city retains its current status, and that the Iaconian and Praxian governments continue to function well together.”
“Essentially, we're all just waiting on your word to know what we should be doing.” Jazz said. “No big concerns in our lives otherwise.”
Optimus waited to see if anyone would speak up, but no one did. If they weren't going to say any more, perhaps there really wasn't any more to be said, or nothing they wished to say in front of everyone else. Instead of pushing further, he decided that he'd done enough for the evening and instead focused on the meal, trying to guide the conversation toward generic small talk, if only to see if the others would get more involved with it, asking about differences in fuel and temperature and the likes between Iacon and their homes. Optimus still dominated the conversation, but Starscream, Jazz and Prowl gave regular input. Ratchet also joined in at times, making a handful of comments about Rodion's famed Dead End that had Optimus yearning to ask for more information, but were restrained enough that it was clear now wouldn't be a good time. It was well into the evening before Chromia or Mirage said anything, and Perceptor only spoke the handful of times a question was asked directly to him. Soundwave stayed silent, avoiding eye contact. Not an ideal evening. But still progress of some kind. Reassurance, in a way. As dinner wound down, he bid his farewells to the consorts, making sure to exchange comm frequencies with each of them. Prowl, however, did not leave.
“Did you have something you needed to ask me?” Optimus asked.
“No.” Prowl said. “I'm following protocol. If the Prime does not express a preference for which consort shall attend him on a given evening, it is to be assumed that the First Consort is to attend him.”
“Ah. Another protocol I was not aware of.” Optimus smiled at Prowl. “If you do not wish to attend to me tonight, that is more than alright.” He said. He didn't outright deny sharing the evening because he recognized a potential opportunity to get closer to Prowl, but left the door open for Prowl to not feel pressured.
“Is there another consort you would prefer?”
“No – I...” Optimus stopped to think a bit, about what had been said that evening. “Do you want to spend the night with me? Not because you were told you should, but because you want to.”
Prowl stared at him, brow slightly furrowed. “Could it not be both?”
“It could be, yes.” Optimus said. “I just – I was worried, after last time, that I had hurt you in some way, or that something about our arrangement was displeasing to you.”
“No, no, of course not.” Prowl insisted. “I – I am not the best at expressing myself in such matters. You've done nothing wrong.” He hesitated then, looking away from Optimus, “As for – well, I won't hide that our last interface did cause me some damage, but I asked Ratchet's opinion and he said that if I was careful enough, further damage can be avoided.”
“It has not been very long since your first injury – are you certain it is healed already?”
“Healed enough. It was nothing major.” Prowl said. “I trust that you will do your best to not worsen my condition.”
Optimus frowned, “Perhaps it would be best if all we did tonight was bond, or find other ways to interface. Just until you are fully healed.” He knew that Prowl's insistence came from the pressure to conceive, and outside of traditional interface and sparkmerging, there wasn't a way for that to happen. Unless Prowl was the one to spark Optimus instead, but he doubted that it would be considered a valid alternative. No Prime had carried their own newsparks in generations, and it was generally considered a risk that shouldn't be taken – it would be potentially disastrous if the Prime was incapacitated by a late-stage carrying while a natural disaster, or worse, a military conflict, happened.
“If you're worried, we can agree to stop should anything suggest I'm sustaining more damage.” Prowl said. “I – I will be much more at ease here once we conceive a newspark.”
Optimus relented to Prowl's insistence, and led the his consort out of the dining room, determined to make absolutely sure this next experience would be an actually pleasurable one for Prowl. When they reached Optimus' rooms, Prowl didn't hesitate before making his way to the berth again, though this time he sat on the edge until Optimus approached and got on the berth with him. “I think we might have been too rushed last time. I do not believe we took enough time to get you ready.” Optimus said, getting behind Prowl and gently encouraging him to lay back onto him.
Prowl nodded, “We can take more time now. However much you think is necessary.” He opened his modesty panelling and Optimus reached between his legs, keeping an eye on how he reacted for signs of discomfort or displeasure. As he began using his servos to stimulate Prowl's anterior node, Ionizer's comments came to his mind, unbidden and certainly unwelcome. He mentally chased away the thoughts, but they stuck stubbornly in his processor, a sort of twisted curiosity, one that he knew was pointless. He focused on slowly building up Prowl's charge, taking his time to figure out the best way to do it, figuring out how much pressure was too much or too little, working out how to use his fingers better than he had last time. Prowl was heating up slowly as Optimus worked his node, then began teasing the entrance of his valve, first using one finger to avoid potential damage as he gently penetrated his partner. When the intrusive thoughts about Ionizer's comments still refused to leave him, Optimus decided to take a moment to lay them to rest discretely. Playing with Prowl's valve and node like this, it would be far from unusual for Optimus to reach for Prowl's spike, so that was what he did. He slid his finger out of Prowl's valve, over his node and felt for Prowl's spike sheath. He hadn't payed too much attention to Prowl's spike sheath when last they'd interfaced, but as far as he remembered, it had looked normal. His finger found its edge, and he pressed inward, expecting to feel the tip of Prowl's spike. Rather than that, he found something cold and unyielding. It felt almost like a seal, but even those had more give – and a seal wouldn't be this cold with a mech who was aroused. He pressed it slightly, but all that earned him was a hiss of displeasure from Prowl.
“Is something wrong?” Prowl asked.
“I – nothing is wrong.” Optimus said. “I just – is your spike still sealed?” It was the most plausible explanation, however surprising it would be for Prowl to never have even self-pleasured his spike.
“Resealed, yes.” Prowl said, seemingly nonplussed. “It was done the same time as my frame remodel. It's still sensitive.”
Optimus tried to rationalize a reason someone would reseal their spike, especially with a material that felt unpleasant to have in an array, and Prowl became impatient with him, grabbing his hand and guiding it back to his valve. Optimus understood Prowl's unspoken request and refocused on fingering his valve until he was ready to receive Optimus' spike. He made sure to keep pleasuring his node as well, using two of his fingers to massage Prowl's inner callipers and his thumb to rub his anterior node. Prowl shuddered through a first overload shortly, going still and limp immediately after for a handful of kliks, like he had gone unconscious, before becoming animate again, not making a single comment about what had just happened. Optimus continued his assault knowing that two fingers was not going to be enough for what was coming, even with how pliant Prowl was slowly becoming. Sliding a third finger in, he met with some resistance, though it melted away quickly alongside several of Prowl's inhibitions. The Praxian had started making small keening noises, his servos grasping the sheets of the berth and his valve squeezing around Optimus. Optimus curled his fingers in a way that would've driven himself crazy, and Prowl let out a breathy moan, vents hitching as he murmured out pleas for more.
Optimus was more than happy to give in to Prowl's pleas, managing to bring him to a second overload in short order, this one leading to a longer bout of stillness. This time he asked if Prowl was alright, which earned him a sharp “Yes!” and a demand to keep going. By now, Prowl's valve was dripping lubricant and definitely well worked open. Optimus brought his servo away, sliding open his own modesty panelling and freeing his spike, which had definitely been ready to be released for some time. Prowl clumsily repositioned himself so that they were facing each other and reached for Optimus' spike. Unlike the last time he'd done it, he was delicate, stroking it to full erection as it pressurized. This time, they worked together to ease Prowl into having Optimus' spike inside of him, and while Prowl's face was occasionally pinched, he insisted that he was fine and not in any pain. Optimus bottomed out, and Prowl vented deeply, looking intently focused, getting used to the feeling. He then opened his chest plating, Optimus following suit. Their sparks were already acquainted with each other, reaching out and connecting quickly with a burst of warmth. Optimus sent reassurance and enthusiasm through the bond as best as he could, which was responded to with a small burst of Prowl's current arousal. He took this as a good enough sign to keep things moving and began to thrust shallowly in and out of Prowl's valve, not wanting to over do it.
Prowl leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Optimus' neck and tucked his face into the crook of his neck. He still moved in sync with Optimus, vents whirring and occasionally making like gasping or moaning noises, but his hold was tight and desperate. He wasn't broadcasting much through the bond other than the feelings of his body, creating a pleasant echo of pleasure but not allowing for much emotional connection. When Optimus overloaded, Prowl's arms tightened to a degree that was almost painful, and he stayed like that even as Optimus pulled out and resheathed his spike. Eventually, Optimus closed his chest plating, which succeeded in knocking Prowl out of the stupor he had fallen into, the Praxian pulling away.
“Thank you for tonight.” Prowl said as he shifted away from Optimus to properly lay down in the berth. “I promise to be a better berth partner once I'm healed.”
Through the echo of the bond, Optimus could feel something, something that he couldn't quite name or place but felt bitter in his chest and mind. He reached to grab some blankets to move things around and cover Prowl up, and his consort flinched, ever so minutely, as he tried to tuck him in. The movement was so slight it could have easily been seen as a twitch, and maybe it was just a twitch, but just like the last time Optimus had interfaced with Prowl, he felt as though something was wrong. Even with his efforts and the Praxian's double overload, he doubted Prowl had enjoyed himself. As he turned over to try to fall into recharge, he couldn't chase the feeling away that he was missing something important.
Notes:
Age ranges for the others mentioned in this chapter:
Soundwave: Mid 30s
Mirage: 18-19ish
Chromia: Late 20s
Perceptor: Mid 20s
Ratchet: Late 30sPlease comment! it keeps me sane :)
AnonMax on Chapter 1 Wed 02 Jul 2025 10:59PM UTC
Comment Actions
LittleLizardLover on Chapter 1 Wed 02 Jul 2025 11:30PM UTC
Comment Actions
noname24 (Guest) on Chapter 1 Fri 04 Jul 2025 11:55AM UTC
Comment Actions
LittleLizardLover on Chapter 1 Sat 05 Jul 2025 01:25AM UTC
Comment Actions
Account Deleted on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Jul 2025 12:22AM UTC
Comment Actions
LittleLizardLover on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Jul 2025 08:59PM UTC
Comment Actions
Rina27 on Chapter 1 Mon 07 Jul 2025 02:02PM UTC
Comment Actions
LittleLizardLover on Chapter 1 Mon 07 Jul 2025 08:41PM UTC
Comment Actions
Rina27 on Chapter 1 Mon 07 Jul 2025 09:40PM UTC
Comment Actions
stargazerstuff on Chapter 2 Thu 10 Jul 2025 12:20AM UTC
Comment Actions
Rina27 on Chapter 2 Thu 10 Jul 2025 09:03PM UTC
Comment Actions
LittleLizardLover on Chapter 2 Thu 10 Jul 2025 09:37PM UTC
Comment Actions
GlassMind on Chapter 2 Fri 11 Jul 2025 10:59AM UTC
Comment Actions
LittleLizardLover on Chapter 2 Sat 12 Jul 2025 02:27AM UTC
Comment Actions
Skittles the Sugar Fairy (SkittlesFairy) on Chapter 2 Sat 12 Jul 2025 11:39AM UTC
Comment Actions
LittleLizardLover on Chapter 2 Sat 12 Jul 2025 10:41PM UTC
Comment Actions
Skittles the Sugar Fairy (SkittlesFairy) on Chapter 2 Sat 12 Jul 2025 11:41PM UTC
Comment Actions
interim_waves on Chapter 2 Thu 17 Jul 2025 12:11PM UTC
Comment Actions
alea_writes on Chapter 2 Sun 20 Jul 2025 10:26PM UTC
Comment Actions
Carmilla DeWinter (miladys_revenge) on Chapter 2 Wed 23 Jul 2025 08:40PM UTC
Comment Actions
alea_writes on Chapter 2 Thu 24 Jul 2025 02:56AM UTC
Last Edited Thu 24 Jul 2025 03:07AM UTC
Comment Actions
Carmilla DeWinter (miladys_revenge) on Chapter 2 Thu 24 Jul 2025 08:53PM UTC
Comment Actions
OpalUnicorn on Chapter 3 Thu 24 Jul 2025 04:25AM UTC
Comment Actions
alea_writes on Chapter 3 Thu 24 Jul 2025 10:35AM UTC
Comment Actions
OpalUnicorn on Chapter 3 Thu 31 Jul 2025 02:29PM UTC
Comment Actions
independent_variables on Chapter 3 Thu 24 Jul 2025 08:59AM UTC
Comment Actions
alea_writes on Chapter 3 Thu 24 Jul 2025 10:39AM UTC
Comment Actions
melli_boop on Chapter 3 Sun 10 Aug 2025 10:18AM UTC
Comment Actions
alea_writes on Chapter 3 Wed 13 Aug 2025 01:00PM UTC
Comment Actions
OpalUnicorn on Chapter 3 Tue 12 Aug 2025 04:32PM UTC
Comment Actions
alea_writes on Chapter 3 Wed 13 Aug 2025 01:02PM UTC
Comment Actions
Azrayelle on Chapter 3 Tue 19 Aug 2025 12:34PM UTC
Comment Actions
alea_writes on Chapter 3 Thu 21 Aug 2025 02:40AM UTC
Comment Actions
melli_boop on Chapter 4 Thu 04 Sep 2025 10:34AM UTC
Comment Actions
alea_writes on Chapter 4 Thu 04 Sep 2025 03:25PM UTC
Comment Actions
OpalUnicorn on Chapter 4 Thu 04 Sep 2025 01:47PM UTC
Comment Actions
alea_writes on Chapter 4 Thu 04 Sep 2025 03:26PM UTC
Comment Actions
Transformingintoafan on Chapter 4 Fri 05 Sep 2025 03:54AM UTC
Comment Actions
alea_writes on Chapter 4 Fri 05 Sep 2025 03:27PM UTC
Comment Actions
JustaBluebird on Chapter 4 Fri 05 Sep 2025 11:44AM UTC
Comment Actions
alea_writes on Chapter 4 Fri 05 Sep 2025 03:29PM UTC
Comment Actions
PinkPantherInHiding on Chapter 4 Fri 05 Sep 2025 01:40PM UTC
Comment Actions
alea_writes on Chapter 4 Fri 05 Sep 2025 03:30PM UTC
Comment Actions
independent_variables on Chapter 4 Sun 07 Sep 2025 04:22AM UTC
Comment Actions
alea_writes on Chapter 4 Sun 07 Sep 2025 05:57PM UTC
Comment Actions