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Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Unseen Bonds

Cybertronians were the race that emerged after Primus became a giant iron planet. The universe blessed this decision, believing that the Devourer of the Galaxy would finally stop hunting and destroying other races. But it was completely wrong. Now, the God who created the world smiled on unseen, making one after another of his clones, moulding the first colonies and Primes eagerly.

For Primus, just a little moving another planet would have been destroyed; even Unicron, who dared to prevent its destruction, was buried at his feet, with no trace of elegance left to admire. He had been playing around with the other mechs for ages and suddenly found them all too tedious. No matter how he started, the result was always the same. That ease bored the gods too.

Finally, the long life that was like a blessing that every living being wanted became nothing but a curse for eternity. The glory of his extermination did not reduce the increasing boredom, but it was a reminder that now he could no longer seek pleasure from the things he once loved.

Suddenly, an idea popped up, like a blood-red lantern shining a path in the darkness.

Why would he be a pawn for a million years when he can step back and be a player enjoying his own game?

It was his descendants who would relentlessly hunt down and kill other lives. those children would make him feel the excitement and taste of this life again.

The thirteen strongest sparks were born for that very reason. The only purpose inherent in the system was to satisfy the joy their beloved God desired.

Since then, the smell of blood has never faded from the land of Iacon.

Drops of blue liquid fell to the ground, creating tiny rumbling sounds in the cold silence. The corpses of organic creatures piled up, their parts scattered, it was hard to recognize what they used to look like. Suddenly, a strong, delicate foot stepped on them, without any thought or respect for the lives that were taken.

A tall Cybertronian built by Primus's desires strutted forward with a majestic, kingly air. His face was cold and unpredictable, his red optics indifferent, and a distinctive scar on his lips. He swung the axe in his hand only to see the edge of it reflect misfortune in every direction, including his silhouette and blood.

They called the youngest of the thirteen Primes “The Tyrant.”

Also known as “The Greatest Zeta Prime”

The tyrant smirked. Twelve Primes were standing behind him, their optics filled with the desire for endless war like Zeta's optics, which reflected joy. The tip of his tongue licks the axe's blade through the blue liquid before he speaks in a fearsome, resonant voice.

“Dear lord Primus has commanded,” Zeta licked his lips through his sharp fangs, tasting the energon in his mouth. “Kill them all.”

At the end of Zeta's order, the remaining Primes moved out of their positions, every weapon they had drawn. The deafening screams of the organic creatures struggling for their lives filled the air.

Zeta didn't move from where he was standing. The Thirteenth Prime pressed his axe to the ground before raising his hands to clasp them in front of his chest with a smile.

“Dear lord, may you bless us”

This time, Cybertron has once again defeated the Quintesson on another battlefield. To celebrate their sweet victory, Zeta will hold a duel in the Colosseum called the "Blood is Blood" to honour their beloved god, inviting gladiators from every army and every social class, regardless of their birthright. If they are brave enough to conquer the arena, the Goddess of the Colosseum will welcome them with open arms.

The stakes in each round are high, but the most enjoyable part is the final approaching.

Amidst the thunderous cheers and the clash of metal against metal, violence was a Cybertronian's sweet taste. The Energon within the Cybertronians surrounding the arena soared, but there was another mech who couldn't help but feel nauseous in the silent corridor corner.

Sentinel had been secluded from the Primes he served for quite some time now, and he was afraid that longer would not be good. He did not want to upset Zeta by seeing him disappear from the tyrant's sight for too long. He had used up dozens of excuses, and this time he claimed that he was tired and suffocated by the rumbling noise, so he wanted to come outside to relax for a while.

“Don’t disappear for too long, my canary. I don’t like sitting alone and feeling lonely.”

There are at least ten people around the other mech, why would there be any loneliness?!

Sentinel raised both hands to massage his temples. Just imagining Zeta's smile almost made him regurgitate the high-grade energon he had drunk earlier in the evening. He sighed nervously for the hundredth time, his arms resting on the railing of the Colosseum as his red optics looked out over Iacon City. Golden skyscrapers stood tall in the centre. The beautiful buildings stood out, giving off an impression of prosperity, but Sentinel felt a cold emptiness in his chest.

He looked through the buildings and structures as if searching for something to fill his missing feelings.

His processor replayed old images of the Quintesson screaming before dying, leaving not a single one alive. The pain engulfed the young mech, causing him to feel a pang of guilt. There was nothing he could do as the Primes took their lives one by one. Even the embryo of the tiny creature he had tried to hide was discovered.

Yes, he was punished for daring to hide those creatures and hope they would survive.

But that doesn't matter. Whether he's punished or not doesn't matter as much as the lives in his hands were all killed.

He can't protect anyone, not even himself.

Sentinel's optics narrowed dejectedly, sadness eating away at his sparks. The memory of the tiny embryo being crushed to pieces by Zeta in front of him made the young mech both hate and fear the tyrant, and he knew that Zeta had shown him the sight on purpose to remind him that no matter how many times he struggled and tried, it would all be in vain. He was warning him not to make the same mistake again.

Remind him that in this hell, Zeta is the one who determines.

A chill ran through Sentinel's frame no matter whether it was the cold wind blowing against his frame from outside the Colosseum or the mere thought of it, it only tensed Sentinel up. Sentinel sighed in exhaustion. The young mech reminded himself again, trying to build up his morale. He didn't have time to be depressed about this, and he was not going to let Zeta have the upper hand over him ever again.

No matter how difficult it was, he would pull that tyrant down from his throne.

“Okay, tomorrow let's find a way to contact…”

Sentinel's voice dried up like a summer river of energon, and his frame stiffened as he turned to face the massive cybertronian behind him. His signature mask stood out. The moonlight slowly bathed the fine sturdy armour creating a scene that looked as if it had been painted by a master artist.

“Contact with who?”

Sentinel swallowed hard, his face turning pale. The young advisor's voice was so faint that it almost blended with the air. “...Sir... When did you get here, Megatronus?”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“... Starscream, I need to contact him for tomorrow’s battlefield cleanup, sir.” The young mech used his good friend’s name as an excuse. Starscream would have to help him cover up this anyway. Sentinel’s optics wavered slightly, but he tried to make himself look normal. Megatronus was the third most dangerous mech after Zeta and Prima. If the other mech knew that he had contacted the Quintesson, he could not predict his fate after that.

Megatronus narrowed his optics to look at Sentinel under his mask, but he didn’t ask further. “I thought lord Zeta told you there was no need to clean up those marks of honour.”

“I’m afraid it will make traffic difficult.”

“Do not assume for him.”

Sentinel immediately pursed his lips. He lowered his head abruptly, the golden wings on his back drooping down along with the feeling he felt in his chest. He had no right to speak in the first place, except to follow every order his lord gave him. “I apologize, Lord Megatronus.”

Megatronus hummed softly in his throat. He used the tip of his index finger to tilt the small chin to look at him, forcing Sentinel to look into his optics.

Sentinel couldn't look away, afraid of being reprimanded again. So many emotions seemed to be pent up in the warlord's frame. The young mech searched for words to lighten the awkward atmosphere, especially since Megatronus was a gesture so intimate towards him. “Lord Megatronus, the final tournament is about to begin. I think-”

“Bless me.”

“...You will win anyway,” Sentinel replied vaguely according to his thoughts.

But that was both a source of displeasure and satisfaction for Megatronus. Part of him was glad that Sentinel was sure he would win without thinking, but he also wanted to hear the blessings coming out of those little lips. Megatronus had to admit that he cared more about this cybertronian than was necessary, more than a commanders and subordinates should have, but he didn't care. If he wanted something, he was going to get it.

The only problem is that Sentinels are Zeta's favourite toys, and Megatronus doesn't want to get in trouble with his lord, at least for now.

“What did I say? Do I need to repeat?”

Sentinel froze at the commanding words. His optics trembled before the young mech quickly adjusted his expression and demeanour. He didn't dare remove the hand. The Primes' advisor closed his optics before opening them and said, “May Primus hear my request. I wish you, Megatronus, victory over all your opponents.”

He also hoped that the blessing would not be spared even for Zeta.

Megatronus moved his other hand to grab his mask and pull it off. The warlord leaned down and grabbed the small lips with a kiss, eliciting a startled cry from Sentinel's throat. The young mech raised his hand to grab Megatronus's shoulder, intending to push him away, but the greater strength of the war god Megatronus would easily overcome him.

Megatronus grabbed the wrists and held them with one hand. He pressed his lips to Sentinel's, kissing him greedily. The sweet taste in his soft mouth, the inexperienced hot tongue, and Sentinel's limp posture in his arms were only fuel to ignite his desire even more.

He will hold this little canary and make him belong to him. That day will be when Zeta dies.

Megatronus's red optics shine brightly

“You are the rudest.”

“Rudest? When?” Zeta leaned back against his grand throne, expressionless. His red optics peered through the balcony of the cybertronian ruler’s private suite down to the centre of the Colosseum. Two massive cybertronians were fighting to the death. One was from Prima’s army, the other was just a nameless candidate who had made it to the final round.

Both are interesting. If this round ends, Zeta might pay to buy that nameless candidate to be his lackey.

Prima sat on the armrest of Zeta's throne. He had his arms draped over the backrest and looked down at him with a look of annoyance on his face, and Zeta didn't mind him crossing the line, daring to sit on the throne that should be his alone. “Last round of betting, you're pitting my beloved Megatronus against the competition.”

Zeta rolled his eyes with a smile on his face. “He’s not your lover.”

“He will be when I tie him to the headboard.”

“Oh, Megatronus would be delighted to hear that,” Zeta said without looking at Prima who glared at him. “The first Prime of Cybertron, the wicked, who outsmarted everyone with all his tricks wanted to have soap opera-like love. Oh, how lovely.”

“Watch your mouth, you little brat.”

“The word you should call me is master,” Zeta said in a low voice. “Learn to be as tame as your beloved, Prima Prime.”

Prima raised an eyebrow in slight surprise. It seemed like this brat was in a better mood today than usual. He was sure that Zeta would have knocked him off the armrest if he had insulted him like times before, but that was a good thing for him. “Alright, my dear lord.” Prima’s crossed his arms as with one's legs crossed.

Zeta wiggles his finger. “Tell me, what do you want to say?”

Prima shifted his optics to look directly at the bloody battle in the Colosseum. The excitement seemed to be coming to an end. “It seems that Megatronus is interested in your canary.”

Zeta's optics sharpened. He grabbed around Prima's chin and forced his face to look at him. He increased the force to make the first Prime lean to him. “Say that again.”

“It’s hard to tell at first sight, but I just noticed it a few times on the battlefield,” Prima grinned as if he had the upper hand, ignoring the pain around his chin. “Our commander is restless and uneasy. When I tried to track him down a few times, do you know what I found?”

“Stop being annoying, Prima.” Zeta’s patience waned even more.

But Prima looked amused. “I found him playing with your toys in the valley.”

Zeta frowned. He narrowed his eyes at Prima. The first Prime was known for his bluffing. If he did, he could only trust him half. “Tell me, how can I prove this baseless statement?”

“Don’t let your canary out of your sight. Keep him close to you and lock him in your room.” Prima just laughed. He said it without shame. The first Prime’s optics saw the simmering emotion in Zeta’s optics that was rare to see. Although the tyrant loved violence, enjoyed the suffering of others and was very savage on the battlefield he was normally as cold as ice that would be swallowed by the cold. “As for my lovely commander, I will take care of it myself.”

“You’re just looking for an ally, do you think I'm a fool?”

“If you’re smart enough, you should probably know your canary was bitten by a dog. Don’t you think so, my lord? - Ugh!”

Zeta squeezed Prima's chin harder and making him choking before releasing. “You owe me one.”

“It is a great kindness, Your Majesty,” Prima snapped back, unfazed. He stepped down from his throne just as the large doors behind him slid open. The masked Cybertronian stepped in silently, followed by a small mech behind him. Prima’s optics twitched in annoyance. “Look at you. What a coincidence that you’re all here together.”

“Shut up, Prima, before I have to shut you up myself,” Megatronus swung his optics at Prima, who was frowning even more.

“Go ahead, I wonder what you gonna use to shut me up, your hands or your sweet mouth.” Prima leaned in closer as Megatronus approached, his arms clasped behind his back as he gave him a playful smirk, never tired of provoking the general. The only downside was that Megatronus never thought he was flirting with him.

Is he stupid or stupid?

Well, no matter how stupid he is, Prima still likes this dog anyway.

Zeta raised his hand to interrupt, “Enough.”

Sentinel looked for a place where he could stand, his optics nervously glancing at the area to the left of the throne before quietly walking over to take his position amidst Prima's commotion. The young mech closed his optics for a moment to focus on himself. He wanted to forget all about that kiss from Megatronus - it had never been his consent.

Zeta glanced at mech beside him, his optics clouded with ambiguity, but the tyrant shook Prima’s words off as he moved his hand up again, this time slightly beyond the throne.

Megatronus's optics caught sight of the gesture, and the large Cybertronian approached before kneeling on the ground on one side. Megatronus took hold of his mask and removed it, holding it in his hand before supporting Zeta's palm with his large hand. The warlord lowered his head and kissed the hand softly before pulling it back. He looked up at Zeta, who rested his hand on Megatronus's cheek.

“Bring back victory. Don’t disappoint me, brother.”

“Yes, my lord,”

Megatronus withdrew his hand before adjusting his mask. He stood up with a slight bow in salute and turned to walk out of the Cybertronian leader's lounge, with Prima following behind the Warlord. The first Prime's optics glanced back at the room before the door closed slightly.

ครึก !

Zeta rested his arms on the armrests of the throne. “You made me wait.”

Sentinel flinched when he realized that it was only him and Zeta in the room at the moment. The young mech swallowed again before looking down at the floor and replying in a soft voice, “I… apologize, Lord Zeta.”

“Is it fun to be with him?”

Sentinel looked up immediately. He froze when Zeta's red optics were staring at him clearly as if he had just said the sentence to get his advisor's attention. It made Sentinel feel a chill run down his chest. His Spark twitched violently in a panicked rhythm. “I don't understand what you mean, my lord.”

“Don’t make a fool of yourself, my canary,” Zeta said. “You don't look that stupid.”

Sentinel felt his spark tremble harder, his optics blurring with anxiety. Zeta's sarcasm had become a regular part of his life when the other man was upset, but the impact of the words was eating away at the young counsellor, leaving him in a dark place, unsure of how to properly answer the question. His optics were trembling, and he was on the verge of tears from being raised just once.

Sentinel didn't think he would be this incompetent in front of Zeta.

“I… no… not at all, sir. I didn’t find it fun at all,” Sentinel lowered his head again. “I just… met Lord Megatronus outside on the walkway, that’s all. We walked together…” At least that was all true, except for the fact he had just had his kiss, which Sentinel didn’t think was necessary to say.

That's right. You shouldn't have fun to be with him.

Zeta smirked before leaning back against the throne. He really shouldn't have cared about Prima's words. It was obvious that his little bird had nowhere to go but perch on him, the only refuge left in this shitty world. The satisfaction was even more evident on the tyrant's face when he saw the nervousness on his face. He loved it when Sentinels were right for him, tame only with him, the way they stuttered and tried to please him.

The relaxed atmosphere made Sentinel let out a sigh. His blue optics shifted to the center of the Colosseum where the final round was about to begin, but Zeta's words snapped his consciousness.

“Come here. Kneel in front of me.”

To be continued.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

The Roots of Chaos

Prima looked at the Cybertronian's back in front of him, his optics scanning the strong form, the thick armour intimidating and the intricate seams showing its awe. The first Prime's optics had a fascination. He had always admired Megatronus, even though he often sneered at him whenever they faced each other, acting as if he was just annoying and angering him.

He just doesn't want to admit how obsessed he is with Megatronus.

He was so in love with Megatronus that he wanted to squeeze the little bird to death in his hands, hoping that if Sentinel were no longer alive in this world, Megatronus would pay attention to him.

Does your processor only have that mech's image? What's so good about him?

Prima crossed his arms as he walked in an unfamiliar silence. The cheers outside the building were still deafening. Spectators from all directions awaited the appearance of the strongest legend. Megatronus had earned that reputation as a warlord who had wiped out countless other races. Like other Primes, he was intoxicated with power and pursued the slaughter. Only one cbertronian held the Matrix, the only boundary that kept Megatronus from fulfilling Spark's deepest desires.

Everyone knows that there are only a few potential candidates to dethrone Zeta.

If it's not him, it must be Megatronus.

Ah... I figured it out now. So that's how it is.

Prima raised his index finger and placed it on the tip of his chin, the cold red optics staring straight at Megatronus' back, but there was something else on his processor, a myriad of conspiracy theories woven together, waiting for him to bring them up again and again. Finally, he could guess why Megatronus had fallen head over heels for the little bird.

He just doesn't care about you.

Both Zeta and Megatronus were foolish mechs. They must have questioned why a Cybertronian who owned everything like them could not have a Sentinel. They thought that they had always gotten their way, that no one had ever stopped them, that they had always taken everything by force, and so they assumed that if they forced the little bird, they could keep it locked up and play with it as they wished. Little did they know that they were only driving the Sentinels away.

The more they imprison it, the more it will fly away. The more they restrict its freedom, the more it will struggle to escape from its fortress.

But Prima knew that the two cybertronians he was thought to himself were crazy enough not to care if Sentinel was interested in them or not. As long as Sentinel was in their sight, and received his attention alone, they didn't care who his mind was with. If they didn't have Sentinel, so no one could.

Don't joke around like that. That's not love.

You both are just little kids trying to snatch the same favourite toy. Well, it's not right to call them kids, they should be called brats instead, right?

“How long are you going to keep following me?”

“If I could go down to the field with you, I would have gone down too, my dear.”

Megatronus turned to look at him with even colder optics. Prima could see the flames of displeasure in the warlord's eyes, ready to explode if he said one more displeasing word to him. It was funny. Prima felt that those eyes made him even more excited. The first Prime's red optics flickered with desire for this being.

“Stop bothering me, you make me annoying.”

The sharp words cut deep into the young Prime's Spark. If his Spark were visible to the naked eye, all of Iacon would have seen the many deep, ragged wounds caused by the warlord. However, Prima's smile covered up most of them. He leaned closer to Megatronus, who still stood facing him.

“It’s funny how you can still be so sweet to that canary while you're so cold to me.”

Megatronus narrowed his optics. “Sentinel isn't like you.”

That’s it, Megatronus mentioned that mech again. “What makes me different from him? Is it that I’m not Zeta’s toy?”

แกร๊ง!

Megatronus squeezed Prima's neck, the Warlord's hands pressing down on his fingertips until he could feel the pressure of the supply lines beneath his armour. The Iacon general's anger in the split second that he heard those trigger words. He bet that if the Warlord had raised his hand, he would have seen a strangle mark imprinted on it.

“Do not let me hear you say that again.”

Prima rolled his optics with a smile. “Stop dreaming, Megatronus. He’s not yours.”

“Who he belongs to is up to me to decide,” Megatronus lifted Prima with his hand, just enough to keep Prima’s feet off the ground. “It’s none of your business to meddle in. Did I make that clear enough?”

Look at what he's saying. He's so foolish.

The first Prime choked out, still smiling. He grips his hands around Megatronus' wrists. “Of course, it's obvious.” how you loved him.

“Good.”

Megatronus released his grip, letting Prima fall back to his feet. Prima raised a hand to rub his neck as he watched Megatronus turn back toward the arena's entrance. The pain still coursed through his throat, as did the dent in his fingertips from his fist. The Prime's red optics stared directly at the back.

“I wish you victory.”

Megatronus paused in front of a large door frame, only to tilt his head back slightly.

“I don’t need your blessing.”

The footsteps continued, vaguely to Prima's voice receptors. The light outside the arena filtered in as the doors opened to welcome the mighty cybertronian warrior. The glimmer of steel and the cheers were mere backdrops to him. It wasn't the first time he had heard Megatronus's blunt words, but this time it made Prima feel numb all over.

The door closed, leaving only silence, but in Prima's processor, that cold voice still echoed in his head.

In the end, he just smiled like always.

As you wish, Megatronus, from now on it be you who chase after me. The only person you will think of when you drown at the bottom of that black hole is me. If that time comes, don't regret it.

Prima turned around as well. Prime slowly began to walk away from the doorway to the arena. The cool feeling on his cheek made him lift a finger to touch it. He stopped in his tracks when he felt the liquid on his face. Prima pulled his finger out and looked down in surprise, only to see that it was coolant. The First Prime of Cybertron looked at it with a puzzled look in his optics, before laughing when he realised what it was.

Oh, so it's tears.

How ridiculous, they are cybertronians that Primus has designed to desire only killing to satisfy his boundless greed, but that alone wouldn't satiate his boundless hunger. So Primus had to designate passion, love, regret, anger, hatred, possessiveness and desire as a part of their fragile metal frame.

Without the heart, it wouldn't be fun enough. Without any feeling to crush, it would be too bland.

So Primus himself has a heart?

Are you satisfied yet?

Prima sighed in exasperation as he pondered along the long corridor leading outside. He had never expected that gloom, suffocation, and sadness would become a part of his system. When stepping outside the eaves, the first Prime was greeted by a quiet night sky amidst the tragedy. The stars shone brightly and never faded, and the moon cast a golden glow at the centre, giving the impression that the pain of today would not fade.

His life was just a board game that Primus wanted.

Prima smirked before clasping his hands in front of his chest, his bright red optics meeting the glowing golden moon.

Keep on looking, dear lord. It won't be long before he returns to my arms.

When that day comes, That warlord will be nothing but a pitiful dog who only needs my embrace.

He will be loyal, he will be faithful and he will give his love to me alone.

Oh, my beloved Lord Primus, I wonder how much you will enjoy this drama I have brought you.

Of course, Prima knew he was no different from the mech he had cursed earlier: insane, stupid, and obsessed with a love he had never known.

The sounds of weapons and cheers were occasional. Zeta's crimson optics only glanced down at the battle. His gaze was fixed on the Megatronu's demeanour as he clashed with his opponent in this round. Each of the attacks of the Warlord today was heavy not giving his opponent a single chance of victory.

Not even giving a chance to hope

Those optics were like a demon that wanted to swallow his opponent's soul and make him die immediately. The unusually high anger was not hard to see. Originally, a warlord like Megatronus was a bloodthirsty person who liked to play with his prey for amusement. He was the type who loved to tease his prey before killing them, giving them hope and then crushing them to pieces. But today, it was clear that Megatronus intended to finish the fight faster than usual. He did not show any signs of enjoying himself.

Zeta is too lazy to care. He has other, more satisfying things.

The tyrant's rough hands stroked the back of the young mech's head, whose entire body was shaking. “More.”

Sentinel choked, the tightness in his mouth making it impossible for the young advisor to even sob. That was nothing compared to the burning sensation that seemed to burn his throat. The Sentinel's face flushed with shame and anxiety. Although the Cybertronian Leader's lounge was not open, the unobstructed balcony railing couldn't help but make him worried.

Sentinel was kneeling on his toes, his small hands clenched on Zeta's lap for support and to hold on to instead of the heat in his mouth. The young counsellor's red optics were half-closed as he tried to run the tip of his tongue over the uncomfortable size in front of him. It was much bigger than his mouth, and it probably wouldn't even be able to fit his valves again.

No, why would he even think about using a valve?

“Mhm… yes, that’s it. Flick your tongue all over.” Zeta leaned back against the throne behind him, opening his legs a little more, just enough for the Sentinel to move closer. Sentinel’s hands moved from his lap to cup the large spike in front of him, the tip of his small tongue flicking around the thickness of Zeta's shaft, hoping to please the tyrant in front of him.

Hopefully, if Zeta is satisfied enough, he will let him go.

Sentinel licked the large spike in his hands, looking somewhat skilled after being taught many times. He was originally not a slow mech, but he didn't want to master it because he was afraid his frame would get used to these touches, fearful that one day he would forget that he wasn't a toy that Zeta could use however he wanted.

The red optics flickered toward Zeta's satisfied expression before lowering his head again. Sentinel opened his mouth and took the hot spike between his lips, his brows furrowing at the soreness in his throat mixed with the discomfort he was not used to. The young counsellor shifted his body slightly to sit more comfortably before nodding his head up and down on the wide lap.

He sucked the warm spike in his mouth as if it were his favourite sweet energon bar.

“Uhn… mm…” Saliva dripped down his lips, but Sentinel temporarily ignored it. He slightly pulled his mouth away, moved his hand and slid along its length just enough to hear Zeta’s low moan. He gently rubbed spike against his cheek. He pressed all his shame and embarrassment down and coaxed himself for a moment, now he had a duty to pamper his king and get himself over this incident quickly.

“..Ugh... Uh... Lord Zeta...”

He remembered that if he sobbed his name, Zeta would be satisfied.

Sentinel's hot tongue swept across the thick tip of the spike while looking at Zeta with an imploring gaze that he had to endure the most. Then he opened his mouth and sucked the heat in front of him, taking it deep into his sweet mouth to the base.

“Hmm… Good, my dear. Open your mouth wide and suck it. It will be the only spike you'll ever have.”

Zeta gripped the back of his head before pinching the Sentinel's back slightly to look at the small lips that were trying to suck his size into his mouth. The tyrant's red optics looked down greedily, just seeing those optics quivering with tears made his body's desires surge, the lust was overwhelming.

Zeta was addicted to the sight of those small lips trying to swallow him up. He was so addicted to his aide.

The more he looked, the more he couldn't take his eyes off him. The more he looked into his eyes, the deeper he sank, to the point where he could barely hold himself back.

He thought to himself that he might burn the world down for Sentinel, but that was just a joke.

Just imagining the moans of pleasure as the petite frame arched its waist to let him penetrate made Zeta lock his hands behind the Sentinel's head. He held Sentinel's head in place before pulling the Sentinel's head up and down at his will, forcing him to the base. The tyrant bucked his hips while his optics looked down at the beautiful face in front of him, who was sobbing from the torture he was giving him.

Sentinel clenched his fists tightly, not daring to scratch Zeta's lap and leave his handprints. He didn't dare to squander Zeta's kindness, even though what was happening wasn't even sympathy. “Uh- gulp!” The Sentinel's guttural cry escaped him pitifully, his frame shaking along with his willful actions.

Drool coated the thick spike and some of it was on Sentinel's lips. A gasp escaped his lips now and then. The young counsellor's hand gripped Zeta's armour as if he grasping the only rope for his life. The heat made him feel so uncomfortable that he almost wanted to vomit out the energon he had drunk.

“Looks like you’re learning faster, my canary… Mmm… That’s it.” Zeta licked his lips with his smile, his hand gripping the back of that head before the tyrant tilted his head back slightly in satisfaction at how much pleasure his warm mouth was giving him. It was hot, moist, and smooth, and it squeezed as well as the young counsellor’s valve.

Zeta let out a low breath as he felt so close. The little mech's mouth was better than any cybertronians that had pampered him before.

Sentinel let out a muffled moan as Zeta pushed his head deep into the base, the warm liquid filling his mouth to the brim, eliciting another sob from the Sentinel. The young counsellor's fingers clenched in his lap, his frame shaking violently as he squeezed his optics shut, trying to swallow all the viscous down his throat.

If he accidentally spit it out, he will be punished again.

“Ah..good. Swallow it. Don’t leave even a single drop.”

Sentinel's brow furrowed, and the young mech choked on his throat, trying to swallow the liquid. A scorching heat spread through his throat, and Sentinel's optics were blurred by his tears. He pulled his mouth away, revealing a transfluid that connected his lips to the large spike.

Sentinel wiped away his tears before he raised his hand to hold the spike and lowered his head to lick and clean it from base to tip.

“Good boy.” The tyrant’s rough fingertips stroked the back of the Sentinel’s trembling head. “You're so cute when you are behaving like this, darling.”

Sentinel wiped his mouth with his hand as he pulled away again. The young advisor pressed his system against the burning heat. He tried to suppress his embarrassment, hoping that the distance and the side of the viewing room would prevent anyone from seeing this lewd scene of his. Just imagining it made him almost cry with resentment all over again- no, who else would he care about? As long as he couldn't break free from this cycle, everything would keep repeating itself.

Sentinel's brow furrowed in displeasure, both uncomfortable and depressed that there was nothing more he could do than accept his miserable fate without anyone to help him.

Zeta's fingertips lifted Sentinel's chin, forcing him to look up at him.

“What's wrong, little bird?”

Sentinel trembled when he met Zeta's optics showing his satisfaction and lust. He didn't even dare to describe it as love. "I... am just a little uncomfortable..." His mouth still answered directly as usual.

Zeta smiled in satisfaction, his thumb tip brushing over the Sentinel's lips stained with his fluids with the attention optics, and then he pressed the corners of the small lips to lift them a little. “I don't like your expression now. I want to see your smile.”

In Zeta's mind were the memories he had memorized, the secret information he had hidden in countless layers of systems. The beautiful image of a Sentinel smiling at him with gentleness, the image of his first encounter with this advisor, the memory that made his spark change from sensitivity to longing.

Until it became a desire to possess the Sentinel for himself.

Sentinel couldn't help but frown in displeasure, but he quickly adjusted his expression. He slowly forced a smile, although it didn't come out very natural because he didn't have the mood to smile at the tyrant, at least it didn't come out too strange and weird. His processor cursed at Zeta in his head.

“Great. You look beautiful when you smile.” Zeta’s index finger traced the Sentinel’s lips before patting his lap.

Sentinel's entire body trembled at the inviting gesture. “Lord Zeta, I have…”

When he saw Zeta raise an eyebrow in annoyance, Sentinel swallowed the excuse he'd just made up. The petite Cybertronian stood up from the floor before climbing onto the larger mech. The young advisor moved his legs carefully as he straddled Zeta's lap, afraid that it wouldn't sit right and that his slowness would upset the mech with low patience.

Zeta scanned the exquisite appearance as if it had been gifted to him by Primus. The beautiful red armour, the golden patterns carved on its body, and even the bird-like wings behind it. He looked at the Sentinel's small, well-shaped face, the meticulously sculpted nose, the thin lips, and the side parts of its face.

A gift that belongs to him alone

No one should get Sentinel.

Not even the Primes.

Zeta looked at the small frame on his lap before gripped Sentinel and making him turn back to the arena behind him. Sentinel's optics widened when he saw the arena, the opponents fighting in the arena, and the spectators. Most of them were far away and didn't seem to care much for the Cybertronian leader's viewing area, but that didn't help to reduce the shame and embarrassment that was welling up in his system.

“L-Lord Zeta,” Sentinel called softly, his voice full of pleading.

“Spread your legs.”

Sentinel was almost in tears, even the wings on his back were trembling. This time, it was not filled with anger or resentment, but with fear instead. “Lord Zeta, please, I-”

“Now.”

Sentinel swallowed the sob. He prayed that no one would see his miserable scene. The young mech spread his legs wide on the lap of Cybertron's current tyrant. His frame trembled. It was obviously what his fate would be, and Sentinel wanted to think that this was just a nightmare from which he would soon wake.

Zeta held one of the Sentinel's thighs wide open, his middle finger sliding down to rub and knead the area between the legs, down to where the young mech's valve shield was. Just touching the heat from that spot made Sentinel moan. “So sensitive, hmm?”

Sentinel was speechless. He could only bite his lips tightly as Zeta licked the golden piece beside Sentinel's antenna and whispered in a low voice, “Open it for me.”

Sentinel held his breath and frowned, his optics closing in shame. Opening the valve shield had become an ordeal, but in that split second, it clicked, the outside air coming into contact with the sensitive parts causing the heat in the Sentinel's frame to rise.

Zeta made the Sentinel's frame even hotter by roughly kneading two fingers on the soft petals, deliberately rubbing the front node between the sensitive petals hard.

“Ah-! Ahn! L-Lord Zeta!”

Sentinel gasped from the sensation, not knowing where to place his hand. Finally, he gripped Zeta’s wrist that was teasing his valve with his fingers, intentionally playing with it for his amusement, as if the more he moaned, the more pleased Zeta became. Sentinel’s optics brimming with tears, he looked over his shoulder to Zeta.

“Uhn!- please.. I.. ah!”

“I didn’t hear you very well, my canary. Say it more clearly,” Zeta said with a chuckle. His two fingers parted the beautiful petals, revealing the lewd passage below that was waiting to be filled. A sticky liquid stained his fingers. The blue lubricant condensed into drops, falling onto the throne they were sitting on. It was a sight more beautiful than any of the sculptures Zeta liked to admire.

“S-sir Ah!”

Sentinel tried to speak but all he got was a hushed moan. Saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth as two fingers pushed their way inside his valve, causing Sentinel's frame to twitch. The tyrant looked at the young mech, who was arching his waist on his lap like a predator eager to pounce on his prey.

Zeta kisses Sentinel's neck then to the crook of the cybertronian's neck in his arms before pressing his lips against it in a greedy kiss. His optics flicked at Sentinel's face, which was tingling with pleasure, before moving up to bite his neck, intentionally leaving a love mark with his teeth so that other cybertronians would know who Sentinel belonged to.

Zeta's two large fingers pushed deep into the base of his fingers before he twisted them towards the sweet spot, causing Sentinel to twitch. Liquid squirted onto Zeta's hand.

“Answer me, darling. Have you ever used this pretty valve to anyone?”

“I don’t know what you- mhn! uhn!” Sentinel writhed on Zeta’s lap. The young mech looked up at Zeta with pleading optics. “I- nngh!- no, ahh- never!”

“Lie. ”

“Ahh!” Sentinel lifted his head against Zeta’s broad shoulders, his legs hanging open, not caring who saw. Nothing mattered as much as the torture in his frame right now. Zeta’s fingers were pressing every single one of his arousal points, causing tears to fall down his cheeks. The scene in front of him blurred, and he couldn’t focus on anything. “I- Uh! I’ve never used it to anyone. Ah! I swear!”

“I never taught you to lie. Stop being stubborn and confess the truth maybe I will have mercy on you.” Zeta said in a cold voice, but his voice was hoarse and filled with arousal. The sight in front of him made his entire body heat up. His spike, which had been overloaded, was easily recharged to its full size again. The red optics rested on the young mech’s trembling waist.

The more he saw that gentle face turn lewd, the more desired Zeta became, causing him to thrust his finger deeper, causing the Sentinel to almost scream.

“Ah! I didn't- I didn't. hngh! Lied to you!”

Zeta withdrew his fingers before sliding his hand down to grip the spike, guiding it up against the tight valve that was dripping with precum before the tyrant gripped Sentinel's waist and pressed in, forcing the thick spike in. The tip of his spike hit the energy tank, eliciting a squeal from the cybertronian in his arms.

Sentinel's entire frame trembled, his lips hanging open in a gasp, his optics blurred with tears, and his valves automatically overloaded from their previous sensitivity, allowing the lubricant to coat the spike even better. Sentinel limply against Zeta's lap, his small back resting against the larger mech's chest.

“You've upset me today, Sentinel.”

Zeta used one hand to grab Sentinel's waist before he started to move his waist. Sentinel's legs trembled, all he could do was open wide to accept the large thing that was thrusting into his valve. It was not rough like when Zeta used his fingers, but it still couldn't be called gentle.

“Uhn- Ah.. I.. I’m sorry, my lord..!”

Zeta whispers to Sentinel's voice receptor, “Then you have to make me feel better, right?”

“Yes.. Uh.. Yes.. I will do.. everything.”

Zeta grinned as he saw the docile Sentinel on his lap. “Ride on me, darling.”

Sentinel didn't need to hear the order again. He moved his hands to grip the armrests of the throne, his legs moving to astride Zeta's lap, his fingertips pressing into the throne to relieve the tingling sensation in his body. The valve cavity opened to accept the large size so much that it was afraid it would break, but Sentinel's pain now turned into only a numbness.

“Oh... ahh.. nngh... Lord Zeta...”

The sound of their bodies moving echoed in the tyrant audience room. Sentinel rocked on his lap with all his might. Even though it was blended with the cheers from the arena, Zeta could hear Sentinel moaning his name. His red optics looked at the golden wings and small back of the Cybertronian in front of him with admiration and fascination. A primal urge rose in his consciousness. He wants to take him hard until Sentinel screams and begs for his life.

Zeta pondered inwardly during that time, his Sentinel screaming in denial of his words almost to the point of exhaustion. Maybe what Prima said wasn't true.

Zeta shook the thought away, before moving closer until his chest plate was pressed against the Sentinel's back. The tyrant lifted his hand to grab the Sentinel's chin forcing him to look at him before leaning down to kiss the small lips, flicking his hot tongue through the soft, supple mouth until it intertwined with the young mech tongue. His large hand pressed against the Sentinel's abdomen, feeling Spike pressing inside.

Sentinel closed his optics in tears, his frame moving lewdly to swallow the thick shaft, creating an unwanted physical sensation. As he opened his mouth in a hot kiss he allowed clear liquid to drip from the corner of his mouth. An uncomfortable and pleasurable sensation came crashing down at the same time, making it hard to tell what was a dream and what was reality.

“So beautiful.”

Zeta said hoarsely as he kissed him. He lowered his head and pressed his lips against Sentinel's, gently biting. He used his hand to pinch Sentinel's chin and force him to open his mouth wider so he could take in all the sweetness the other had to offer. The tyrant's waist moved in time with the young advisor's rhythm, in harmony with the overwhelming feeling as he growled lowly.

“You’re feeling so good, darling,” Zeta said beside the receptor before pressing his lips to bite his neck while he grabbed his small waist and thrust up until Sentinel gasped. “You’re driving me crazy, making me want to keep you all to myself, making you moan my name.”

“Ohh- Ahh!” Sentinel gasped as the pounding gave him no chance to rest. His hands gripped Zeta’s wrists tightly with a breathless cry. Tingles shot through his body, and the more the spike rubbed against his tight valve, the sweeter his moans became.

But when he was to overload, Zeta suddenly stopped.

Sentinel looked back over his shoulder at Zeta, unsure if he had done something wrong to anger the tyrant again.

But Zeta didn't say anything, only chuckling lowly as if something was really funny. The young advisor only raised his eyebrows slightly in nervousness and worry, but before he could open his mouth to ask why, his body was lifted into Zeta's arms. Sentinel let out a whine as he tried to hold onto Zeta's body to prevent himself from falling to the ground.

But when he understood the situation more clearly, he wanted to fall to the ground earlier.

“Lord Zeta...please don’t.”

Sentinel's voice was so soft it almost disappeared into the air, his small frame slumping against the railing balcony of the Cybertron leader's viewing room, his hands reaching up to grasp it, trembling as he looked back at Zeta with almost pleading eyes.

Zeta merely smirked. He grabbed Sentinel's chin, forcing him to look back down at the arena in front of him, where the fight ended with Megatronus’ victory, just as Sentinel had wished.

“Look, my brother has won again. It’s worthy of being Megatronus Prime.”

“Ah-! uhn!” The Sentinel bit his lip, trying to contain his moans as Zeta resumed their unfinished activity. The massive spike was even deeper in this position than it had been on the throne, causing Sentinel's frame to tremble. The young mech optics reflected the image of Megatronus in triumph, his arms spread open to the cheers and applause of the cybertronians across the field.

And Sentinel hopes Megatronus doesn't look back at him.

Zeta slid two fingers into the Sentinel's mouth. He rubbed the young mech's hot tongue with his fingers while making Sentinel spread his legs wider to receive his hot spike, pulling the frame in front of him to climb the tingling sensation to the highest point. The muffled moan from Sentinel was like the morning birds' song to Zeta, and the taste of this love was even sweeter than any other, especially when Megatronus turned to look at him at the exact moment he wanted.

Sentinel overloaded in Zeta's arms. The young mech's optics blurred. The warm liquid filled his valves, so much that it dripped down his thighs and even spilled onto the floor. His frame was as weak as a bird unable to spread its wings.

Zeta grinned at his beloved brother.

To be continued.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Lost Memory

Megatronus didn’t know about love.

He didn’t know care, he didn’t know what good will was, he didn’t even know how to cry. He was as numb as a steel frame, devoid of any emotion, able only to move his frame according to the words he heard in his processor. Ever since he went online, only the voice in his head told him what to do, only that voice guided him as to what he should do.

There was no praise when he succeeded, no consolation when he failed.

Pain is the reward for those who act useless.

However, there was at least one thing Megatronus knew, from his youth until now: he would only get attention if he started killing and harming someone. Even without ever seeing it face, he could tell the voice in his head was laughing with satisfaction. Without even seeing it expression, he could tell how much it enjoyed the agony. All the pain and suffering turned into resentment and despair. The effects were like pebbles hitting the surface of water, creating ripples that spread far and wide.

The God was pleased with the consequences of their actions.

When he received the crucial key that unlocked his mind, Megatronus pursued the slaughter, trampling and stealing just to be noticed, just to get the meager attention that would never be enough to fill his empty, cold spark.

For him, it was easy to destroy.

With a few swoops, a few swings of his spear, countless lives falling apart like withered leaves.

Beginning by hunting a few wild deer outside the Iacon’s range, then fellow cybertronians who tried to trip him up. But Megatronus wasn’t such a mindless machine. The voice in his head was a endless desire and a greedy, bored creature. Even if he killed all the lives on the Cybertron, it would be just a commercial break, waiting for the next scene.

Finally, it led him to learn everything the world had to offer: power, authority, influence, control, and war strategies.

Above all, the systems of other cybertronians.

Other mechs are like pawns, a pawn Megatronus can use to move to any position. They’re weak, they’re cowardly, they’re foolish, and they’re pathetic. They treat their lives as if they’re precious, even though they’re just a tiny fragments that no one would care if they disappeared. They’re ready to eliminate each other with the bait of valuables and money, willing to destroy anyone just to prolong their worthless lives.

Those who claim to love others are selfish.

The bright red optics reflected a small back adorned with golden wings in Megatronus’s vision. The surrounding landscape was tinted a golden orange of evening. The vast fields on the Iacon’s surface were stained with cybertronian energon and the blood of organic creatures. Dead bodies were strewn everywhere, obscuring the beauty of nature’s original beauty.

The nauseating smell mixed with soot had become familiar to Megatronus. The warlord gradually inched closer to the outline. His hand gripped his spear, the sharp of it stained with blood. Even though the distance between him and Sentinel had narrowed to just a few meters, the mech that Zeta had brought back with him during his border patrol showed no sign to notices his presence.

Rumors within the palace suggested that the mech was Zeta’s plaything.

Megatronus wasn’t particularly interested in the gossip; he was more annoyed with why they had time to gossip.

Zeta was already a lustful person. It wouldn’t be surprising if he were to take a few mechs back to be his concubine. It wasn’t his business to decide how many concubines a king should have or to petition him to stop flirting and said ‘Please be faithful to someone and arrange a wedding, your majesty’. After all, the Cybertron and the Primes had never had any formal ceremonies, especially with something as important and enjoyable as a wedding.

Megatronus thought the toy thing would only become a topic for a short time and fade away by the time passed. But he was wrong. The longer it went on, the more rumors spread, and it seemed Zeta himself had no intention of addressing the issue.

It wasn’t that Megatronus was interested in Sentinel. While the little mech had a strikingly beautiful appearance, enough to make any cybertronians who was cleaved for Zeta’s attention envious, to Megatronus, such beauty was of no value. Megatronus see him as just another stone on the side of the road.

It’s only interesting to see what Zeta’s interest in this mech, besides his perfect appearance to ravish, was there more to it than just admiring another sculpture, or was there something more he didn’t yet know? Megatronus was assessing Sentinel’s usefulness to him, like another pawn, assessing whether it was worthy enough to be Zeta’s weak link for him to trample.

If this was the heart of a tyrant, he would destroy it completely.

“That’s a relief.”

Megatronus raised an eyebrow at the murmur of relief and delight, but his optics remained unwavering. The black shadow of the large frame, blocking the Cybertron’s sun, approaching to Sentinel, but the small frame remained kneeling on the ground. A glimmer of doubt crossed Megatronus’s mind, leaving him puzzled.

Until he heard a small, chattering voice instead.

“Organics like you are so difficult to treat. I almost squeezed a vital part,” Sentinel lowered his optics to look in his lap. The small quintesson creature showed signs of stopping the bleeding. It looked up at him for a moment before moving its legs and arms (tentacles) like a jellyfish trying to move. “Fortunately, your race shares at least some cybertronian resemblance. The historical evidence that the Quintesson itself originated on the Cybertron must be true.”

The tiny organic gently nuzzled its head under Sentinel’s palm, drawing a small smile to the corner of his usually expressionless face. The young mech’s fingertips lightly brushed against it, his red optics glancing at the creature clinging to his lap.

“That should keep you moving for a while. We’re just a short distance away from the Cybertron’s forest. Once there, you’ll have to find a way to contact mothership.” Seeing the small creature’s sadness expression, Sentinel smiled faintly. He shook his head slightly. “I can’t go with you. I’ve... been here too long. Come, I’ll show you the way.”

Despite their protests, they didn’t hesitate, merely sliding down from Sentinel’s lap. The young mech moved to his feet, his face weary. But his optics shone bright with determination. He held the small injured body of the little quintesson in his arms and lifted his head slightly when he felt a dark shadow cast over his frame. Sentinel’s red optics widened.

A chill briefly shot from head to toe. His entire frame stiffened, numbing his entire body.

“Lord.. Megatronus.”

“Impressive,” Megatronus said in a low, slow, clear, and icy voice. “You can speak their language.”

Another small quintesson clenched at Sentinel’s leg, while the young mech hugged the other in his arms, trying to protect it and hide it from Megatronus’s sight, even though he knew the warlord had just seen it clearly with both his optics. “Lord Megatronus, they’re so young, they’re harmless and can’t hurt us. I beg you, please let them go.”

‘They’re a flaw,’

The voice in his head whispered to Megatronus, the warlord’s red optics glowing brightly. “And what if I refuse?”

Sentinel carefully placed the tiny organic in his hand on the ground beside him, on the thin tendrils of it friend who was waiting.

“Leave,” he said, turning back to look at Megatronus. The young mech’s previously frightened optics were glowing brightly as well. His hand reached up to grab the Primax Blade, tugging it once to activate its two blades.

‘It’s just a stupid, fragile, weak, powerless, and annoying mistake creature.’

Megatronus glanced his optics as the two small creatures fled in a hurry, following Sentinel’s words, before shifting his gaze back to the cybertronian in front of him. Their optics met in silence. The warlord lowered his gaze to the small hands gripping the hilt of his sword. They were trembling and nervous.

“Don’t try to do something you know is impossible.”

“Even if it means dying, I won’t stop.”

‘Destroy it.’

Megatronus laughed pitifully. He took dominant steps toward the frame who wouldn’t back down. Sentinel’s face held a myriad of emotions. The anxiety in the young mech’s optics only made the warlord laugh. If Sentinel knew he had no way to fight, what was the point in fighting? Why acting like a hero? No matter what, those two organics, whom Sentinel had tried so hard to preserve, would definitely be crushed before they could escape beneath his hand.

They would authentic and surely die.

“As you wish.”

เคร้ง!

Sentinel bit his lip as their blades clashed. It was the young mech himself who was sent flying backwards. The force of Megatronus’s spear swung at him made all the strength he had gathered just now seem ridiculous. The young mech frowned slightly and swung his gaze back to Megatronus, who had only taken a few steps towards him again.

“Not dodging, but defending? You must really wish to die, huh?”

Megatronus smirked beneath his mask. Watching the little mech in front of him try to steady his sword every time he swung his spear was amusing. Sentinel’s expression was clear, undisguised, and he would have failed from the first level if he had joined his army. Even the most lame of his unit knew they shouldn’t give the enemy any chance of knowing their intentions.

But this little bird shouts at him straight out by those bright red optics that he wanted to be a shield for those organic creatures.

“I’m giving you a chance to think, kid. Is it really worth that you’d sacrifice your life for it?”

Megatronus spun the spear in his hand, grabbing the hilt and hit it at Sentinel’s waist.

ฉึก!

The blade of the Primax Blade pierced the ground, and Sentinel’s body curled up on the ground. His red optics reflected the silver edge of the Primax Blade. It reflected his pain expression clearly in his optics. The young mech’s hands gripped his waist tightly. The lump prevented him from speaking for a moment. Sentinel gritted his teeth until his jaw aching. He looked up to met the warlord glowing red optics as the spears shaft lift his chin up.

“Answer my question.”

“Yes, ugh—every life is precious,” Sentinel replied breathlessly. “Even you value your own life.”

“Don’t compare me to those organic corpses,” Megatronus lowered his optics to look at him. “You don’t know your own worth.”

“That doesn’t matter—”

“Why doesn’t it matter?” Megatronus asked coldly. He stepped on the Sentinel’s waist, crushing it until the young mech groaned in his throat. With just a little more force, this mech would finally die. But up until now, Megatronus had only played with his pitiful prey like an eagle harassing a young bird. He hadn’t exerted all his strength and had no intention of killing the mech in front of him.

Since the owner of this little bird had let his own precious bird escape its cage, Megatronus would have had plenty of fun with it.

After all, when he meets Zeta, he could inform that his beloved canary was trying to protect the quintesson, a species the Primes were hunting to death for. Besides that, The tyrant could only grit his teeth and thank him for punishing this mech instead.

“My lord tried to keep you close,” Megatronus said in a low voice. “But you’re going to abandon yourself for those disgusting creatures.”

Sentinel’s optics widened slightly at Zeta’s mention. He bit his lip tightly, hesitancy beginning to appear in his red optics. The more he saw the anxiety, the more satisfied Megatronus became. But deep down in his spark, there was something else that irritated the warlord.

The look of worried in Sentinel’s eyes when he mentioned Zeta.

It wasn’t fear of punishment or death, nor was it worry about losing his status. It was concern and worry.

Sentinel was more annoying than he’d expected.

“Are you worried about a mech who doesn’t even know the word mercy? I didn’t think you were so delusional. Are you blind? What does he offer you that makes you strive so hard? Money, valuables, power, comfort, or social status?” Megatronus shifted his foot. The spear from his chin slid down his neck, to his chest armour adorned with gold pieces, and down his waist, stopping just between Sentinel’s legs. “To make you’ve even sold your dignity for it.”

Sentinel’s face flushed with embarrassment as the touch caressed his frame. The young mech frowned in displeasure as he met Megatronus’s optics. “You’re misunderstood. Even if I don’t value my life as you say, But I don’t intend to sell my dignity for him.”

“Then what makes a displaced bird like you so eager to offer yourself to him?”

Sentinel kicked Megatronus’s spear out of the way, then swiftly rolled back to his feet. His hand reached out to grab the hilt of his sword that had been stuck in the ground before, bringing it back to face the warlord.

The next words made Megatronus’s optics sharped.

“I love him.”

But the optics, which shone like a guiding light of the sun and the determined expression on Sentinel’s face, were familiar. It gave Megatronus a sense of familiarity, causing him to tremble.

‘I love you.’

Sentinel’s image was overlaid with a sepia-toned, memory, and disjointed image, like fragments of a broken object. The surrounding sounds were absorbed and silenced, as if Megatronus’s hearing receptors had temporarily ceased functioning. The scene before him was distorted and unrecognizable.

The surroundings were absorbed, leaving only a black backdrop. Only unknown mech remained, even his appearance and identity so vague that Megatronus could not recognize him. But his system craved and yearned for that feeling again. An unknown feeling, a touch filled with incomprehension.

Only those smiles and warm voices felt familiar and safe.

The unknown mech’s lips said:

‘Megatronus, let’s escape from this place.’

‘Get rid of him!’

An eerie cold sensation enveloped Megatronus’s entire body once more. His sparks aching, feeling as if his entire frame would shatter. Pain snapped him out of his reverie. Sunlight and the heat of the evening returned to the warlord’s armour. Megatronus’s red optics shone brightly, filled with coldness as he swept back to look at the Sentinel who stiffened in place by that menacing gaze.

“Don’t ever say that stupid word like that again!”

เคร้ง!

“Ugh!” Sentinel scrunched up in pain as the spear’s shaft slammed into his waist. He retreated, trying to regain his balance. His frame trembled with a feeling of lump in his waist, as if his armour had been cracked. It wasn’t that he was being foolish by deflecting Megatronus’s spear like he had previously scolded him, but this time, even though he dodged at full speed, he still couldn’t escape the deadly force.

It showed the gap between a normal mech and a Warlord.

Megatronus wasn’t teasing anymore. He approached the faltering Sentinel’s frame. The Warlord swung his spear once and slashed it straight into the middle of the chest armour that contained the spark, intending to pierce the frame.

‘You can’t do that. How can you bully a weaker mech?’

The spear stopped in mid-air, less than two centimeters from Sentinel’s chest armour.

Sentinel’s frame froze as well. He gasped in panic. The red optics stared down at the spear that should have ended up his life. The young mech was unsure of what to say or do. He was confused by the mech’s haunted demeanor. “Lord Megatronus?”

The soft voice didn’t enter Megatronus’s processor. The warlord’s optics were equally confused. The simmering ignorance was consuming his spark, his systems burning with the attempt to fix the error. Another voice in his head shouldn’t have been there in the first place.

Weak? If it died, it was its fault for being weak.

Megatronus raised his hand to hold against his aching temple. His other hand gripped the hilt of his spear until he feels ache. His optics blurred, the edges of his optics burning with the unease that was coursing through his entire being. A warlord like him had never known a mistake, and there was only one clear reason for his miserable state.

The bright red optics stared at Sentinel standing motionless before him.

“Why didn’t you get out of my sight when you had the chance?” The spear pointed at the small neck of the Sentinel, who lifted his chin slightly to meet his gaze.

“I can’t leave you like this,” Sentinel replied bluntly. His red optics held a look of concern that Megatronus didn’t quite understand, except this little bird just wanted to keep messing with him while he was at his weaj state. “Your temperature is too high, which means the engines and other systems are overloaded. If left untreated any longer, the damage could be irreparable.”

“You seem accustomed to it,” Megatronus retracted the spear, his free hand wrapping around the young mech’s neck and lifting him. “Then analyze me,” he said.

Sentinel gripped Megatronus’s wrists tightly, his feet threateningly off the ground. “Ugh— I— I don’t know, Lord Megatronus.”

“It’s because of you.”

Sentinel’s optics flickered with worried. This time, Megatronus finally saw the fear in those bright ruby optics. It made him want to laughed. He had threatened the young mech in various ways before, but not only was this little bird was not afraid, he was even willing to spread his wings to fight an eagle like him. Now, when Megatronus mentioned that the slightest symptom on his body was from him, Sentinel looked like he was about to cry.

Those actions drew him closer. No wonder why a greedy mech like Zeta would fall head over heels for him.

However, another thing that was drawing Megatronus closer was the calm and warmth he felt from this bot before him. It was a familiar feeling he couldn’t quite comprehend, just like that comforting voice.

For Megatronus, Sentinel was no longer the heart of a tyrant.

He was his key.

“What a flirt. You just declared your love for my lord, and now you’re shamelessly claiming to care about me,” Megatronus said in a low voice. Sentinel frowned, his face flushed with shame. “Are you trying to trick me into letting you go?”

Sentinel bit his lip tightly. “I never try to trick you.”

“Prove it.”

Sentinel frowned again, before his grip on Megatronus’s wrist loosened. The young mech let his hands fall to his sides and raise his chin at Megatronus, as if daring him to take his own life instead of answering.

Megatronus snorted. “You’re so stubborn.”

ตุบ!

Sentinel bit his lip as his frame slammed to the ground as Megatronus let him go without warning. But the young mech didn’t complain. He steadied himself, standing firmly on his feet again. His optics barely looked away from the warlord, but he didn’t look directly into his optics either. Megatronus just let out a low chuckle before stepping in the other direction.

The warlord picked up Sentinel’s Primax Blade from the grass. The orange glow of the setting sun had faded, replaced by a reddish hue on the horizon and a deep blue that painted the vast sky, revealing a sea of twinkling stars. Its light shone so brilliantly too hard to look away, but its beauty didn’t quite gets into Megatronus’s optics.

He had something more to look forward to than those stars.

Sentinel eyed the Primax Blade he’d handed back to him cautiously. The young mech’s red optics held a hint of uncertainty, but he gripped the hilt to take it back.

“Lord Megatronus, thank you for—”

ฉึก!

Suddenly, Megatronus gripped the hilt of the sword and pulled it toward him under Sentinel’s wide-open optics. The silver blade pierced through the sturdy armour, soaking the young mech’s hilt and wrist with energon. Seeing that Sentinel attempt to pull the hilt out in shock, but Megatronus seized the opportunity to grab the other’s wrist, forcing it to plunge deeper into his abdomen.

“What are you doing!?” Sentinel gasped in panic, his red optics trembling with fear and anxiety. His hands trembled with numbness. The young mech tried to pull the sword again, but it was forced deeper into him, audibly ripping through the wires. “Lord Megatronus! Stop! Please! You’re hurting yourself! This is unacceptable!”

Megatronus fell to one knee, his hands gripping the Sentinel’s hilt and wrist loosening. The warlord’s red optics were so blank the young aide couldn’t read his thoughts.

The soft grass cushioned Megatronus’ back as he lay there, his energon soaking his waist. Sentinel quickly pulled out his Primex Blade and kneeling beside Megatronus. His red optics radiated a mix of confusion and puzzles, but he quickly brought himself back to the present moment. He pressed his hands against the wound, trying to stop the energon from flowing further.

But as he was busy thinking of a first aid solution, Megatronus’s laughter distracted him. The satisfaction in his voice only made Sentinel feel a chill in his chest.

The warlord’s voice was hoarse. “What are you talking about? Who hurt me?”

“You just stabbed yourself and—”

The voices of other cybertronians in various forms rushed towards them from various directions. Sentinel realized that none of this could have happened if Megatronus hadn’t pressed the emergency button.

Sentinel’s face was pale. He looked at his hands that stained with brightness energon.

“You’re the one who hurt me.” Megatronus’s hand rested against Sentinel’s face before sliding to the back of his neck to make him leaned down. The warlord whispered beside the young mech’s voice. “Now you’ve had some time away from my lord.”

“My little bird, the only one mech you can trust is me.”

....

...

..

Sentinel’s optics slowly online in the darkness. He watched the world before him. As he regained consciousness, the pain that had been radiating through his entire being returned. Sentinel moved with difficulty, even moving his foot caused his entire leg to ache. Memories of yesterday at the Colosseum flooded his processor, along with a flush of shame and heat on his face.

Never mind. He couldn’t undo what had happened.

Sentinel lifted his hand and rubbed his face gently before sitting up on the berth, his legs dangling down the side of the surface. His red optics silently gazed out the wide glass window, filled with sparkling stars.

If only he could be as free as those stars...

Sentinel let out a breath, struggling to shake the unpleasant thought. He shook the thought out of his head before recalling the sentence that had roused him from his reverie. The young aide turned to look at the large frame beside him, still recharging. One of the tyrant’s arms was wrapped tightly around his small waist, and it would be difficult for Sentinel to break free.

“Are you awake, my little bird?”

Sentinel flinched slightly. He looked at Zeta’s optics, which had returned online.

“Yes, I am,” Sentinel replied, his voice soft like he was talking to himself than a response to the tyrant’s question.

Zeta sat up and shifted behind Sentinel, his strong arms wrapped around Sentinel’s waist as he leaned down to rest his chin on the other’s smaller shoulder. “Great. I was worried you wouldn’t wake up to be admired, afraid you’d leave me so easily, leaving me all alone.”

Sentinel lowered his optics silently under the dim light of the Cybertron’s moon.

Zeta’s red optics saw the dazed reaction. He moved his hand up to grab Sentinel’s chin before lift it up slightly to face him. “What’s wrong?”

Sentinel paused slightly when he saw Zeta’s eyebrows furrow, half-curious, half displeased. “No—nothing. I was just thinking about something, my lord.”

“Are those thoughts so important to ignore me?”

“My apologies, Lord Zeta.”

Sentinel’s face dropped, causing Zeta to feel a twinkle of pain in his spark, but the sensation quickly faded as if it had never happened. Zeta traced his fingertip along Sentinel’s thin lips before dragged it up to touch the coolant on the edge of Sentinel’s optics. The young aide quickly turned his head away, his hands coming up to brush the drops away from his face.

“I—I’m sorry—”

Zeta watched the reaction with an expression hard to read. His brow furrowed slightly, but he said nothing, only listening to Sentinel’s sobs.

He didn’t understand.

But his arms tightened around the small waist. The tyrant’s face leaned down and kissed the back of Sentinel’s trembling neck. His red optics glanced up at the golden wings and neck that still bore the mark that clearly marked his owner. Zeta’s lips pressed a kissed against the mark before gently moving up to kiss the side of his cheek.

A thick fingertip nudged Sentinel toward him, their lips brushing against each other.

Sentinel clenched his fist tightly, but eventually he loosened it. The young aide lifted his head to meet the warmth kiss, the cool teardrop running down his cheek. His hand moved to rest on the back of Zeta’s hand, intertwined of their hands.

The kiss was slow, filled with anguish under the starlight.

And a prayer for the old Zeta back.

To be continued.