[FoF] Topsy-Turvy 01
Feb. 8th, 2018 06:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Title: Topsy-Turvy
Universe: Flights of Fancy
Characters: Megatron/Rodimus, Soundwave, Shockwave/Orion Pax, Starscream, Ensemble
Rating: M
Enticements: Harpyformers AU, Sexual Content, Romance, Unrequited Love, Angst, Fluff, Slow burn
Summary: If asked, Liege Megatron of the Kaon Aerie would say his life was perfect. With a content, growing flock to manage, he had nothing to worry about. Loneliness was part of a Liege’s life, he’d decided. Until the bright-spirited Hot Rod comes along, determined to be the exception to the rule.
Chapter One
It was the increasingly loud accumulation of noise and shouting and clicking that roused Megatron from his scrolls and away from his desk. He stood, rolling his shoulders and fluffing his feather-mane as the noise not only grew louder, but also closer.
He frowned, flipped a sheet over the stacks of private documents and stepped out of his office, ducking under the low-hanging tapestry that served as his door. Here in Kaon, the temperatures remained steady and balmy, except for a single month in the worst of winter. They didn't need anything heavier.
A crowd had gathered outside his door, an easy feat considering he kept his office on the lowest level. Megatron's frown deepened as said gathering had formed a circle with some unfortunate harpy in the middle. He could see nothing yet but flashes of crimson feathers. He was a smol. A single smol and not one Megatron recognized as belonging to his flock.
Megatron rose to his full height. He was not the largest of his flock, that honor was reserved for Maximus and Roadbuster, but his authority carried a weight of its own. Those closest to him immediately lapsed into silence, and recognition spread quickly.
“What is going on here?” Megatron demanded as he cut through the crowd. They parted to make way for him, as they were expected to do.
“There is a newcomer, my liege.”
The answer came from his right, the voice belonging to his most-trusted Speaker. Megatron turned as the dark blue harpy slinked up to him, one of his younger siblings clinging to the thick floof at his midsection. Soundwave was never seen without at least one.
Laserbeak, like her twin Buzzsaw, was usually content to perch upon Soundwave’s shoulders, nearly lost to the ring of feathers, but Frenzy and Rumble clung to his midsection while Ravage enjoyed taking position upon Soundwave’s tail. Ravage did have impeccable balance.
Today, it was Frenzy who had a tight grip on Soundwave’s belly.
“From where?” Megatron demanded as together, they moved through the rest of the crowd to the center and the half-kneeling, half-collapsed smol being guarded by one of Megatron's best warriors and also his fencemaster. Drift might have been a smol himself, but he was one of the fiercest fighters Megatron had ever met.
“The Vosian flock,” Soundwave replied as Frenzy made some kind of chattering noise, his eyes narrowed at the newly arrived smol.
Megatron made a noncommittal noise and looked down at the crimson harpy. He was of a size with Drift, but only just. His flame-colored feathers certainly marked him as other. Megatron had few harpies in his flock who sported such brilliant shades, even among his smols. There were wounds as well. Blood speckled his feathers and some had been torn away. The blood was old, rust-colored and flaking away, barely visible against the crimson of his feathers.
“Have you seen battle?” Megatron asked, careful to keep his tone gentle. He suspected this was another refugee smol, one who had fought for his freedom from a restrictive society.
The smol kept his head bowed, his feathers slicked. He had been taught manners, proper to some cities, offensive to others. Clearly, this one was from a society of the former, places where smols were meant to be seen and not heard.
“No, Liege Megatron,” he replied, his voice a grating rasp that made Megatron grimace after listening to Soundwave's more dulcet tones. “But I have been on my own for some time and the world is not welcoming to a flockless harpy.” A small sound rose in his throat, one of loneliness and loss.
Megatron's core ached to hear it. His instincts fluffed up his feathering. He sank to one knee, all the better to see the smol, and all the better to soothe his instincts, which demanded he comfort the poor harpy. Some of the nearest baras around him, especially those unmated, responded as well. Many with interest.
It had been some time since they welcomed a refugee. Recurve had been the last, and a bara much to the disappointment of many of the unmated.
Megatron offered a hand to the poor smol, talons curled inward, a show of trust. “Why are you alone, little smol? Where is your flock?”
There was silence. The smol shivered, his feathers rustling. He did not look up, the feathers upon his crown drooping. Yes, an abused one indeed. Megatron had welcomed many such harpies to his flock.
“My liege--”
Megatron lifted a wing, silencing Soundwave before he could speak again. He wanted to hear the answer from the smol. He would rely on Soundwave's information later. He wanted to hear what truth the crimson one would offer him.
“I am willing to offer you a home, little one,” Megatron continued, hand waiting patiently. “We are a flock of misfits, after all. And as far as I know, I am the only flock willing to accept outsiders. But I must know what has caused you to be outcast. I must know if I am welcoming danger to my flock.”
The smol's clawed hands rested on the woven branches of the aerie floor. His fingers drew tight, talons scraping lines into the wood.
“I am no danger, my liege,” he rasped and finally lifted his head, his eyes as red as his feathers. Truly, a unique harpy. “And my only crime is one of curiosity.”
“Curiosity.” Megatron tilted his head. He could think of only one curiosity that would be frowned upon by the more traditional flocks. “You are interested in humans.”
The smol ducked his head, but his gaze did not leave Megatron's. “They are fascinating. They are not as cruel as the stories would have us believe. Their ways are different, but not wrong. I only wanted to study, to learn...” he paused, tongue flicking over his bottom lip. A crust of blood had formed at the corner of his mouth. “But it’s not proper, for a smol, to be so curious.”
Not in Vos. Megatron had been there once upon a time. Vos had strict conventions regarding the behavior of their flock. Smols and baras were expected to obey these rules, and they were not allowed to stray. Misbehavior was said to invite chaos into their nests, into their flock, and into their aerie.
Leadership claimed that the commandments were crafted for the good of the flock. In reality, they were for the good of the few, and they made Vos a rigid, unwelcoming place.
This smol would not be the first harpy Megatron had welcomed from Vos.
“Things are different here,” Megatron said with a wry tone. “If you want to study the humans, that is your right, only know that you may still be viewed as an oddity.”
“I can handle being considered unusual,” the smol replied, with something like relief shuddering through his body. His feathers eased, loosening from their tight clamp. “What I cannot live with is being stifled and shoved into a cage that does not fit.”
Megatron pushed his offered hand a little closer. “Then you are welcome here, little smol, provided my Speaker's research does not prove you to be a danger. What are you called?”
The smol's eyes flicked from Megatron's face to his offered hand and back again. “Your Speaker will find nothing.” He lifted a hand, turning his palm upward and laying the back of it against Megatron's curled fingers. “I am Starscream.”
“Very well, Starscream.” Megatron rose to his full height, drawing up Starscream as well, who was tall for a smol, but very lithe. “Welcome to Kaon.”
His flock cheered, a welcome change from the hiss and clicking of uncertainty and agitation. Megatron's flock was not unused to newcomers as he hadn't lied. They were a flock of misfits, gathered from flocks all across Cybertron. But they'd had their share of monsters, and they were right to be cautious.
Starscream ducked his head, his crown feathers lifting as some of his confidence returned. “I am grateful for your hospitality, my liege.”
“Here in Kaon, we welcome all who are willing to put in the effort to improve the flock,” Megatron said as he returned the dip with a lift of his chin. He dropped his hand so that Starscream might reclaim his own. “You are unmated?”
“I am,” Starscream answered and his tail feathers spread as he was quick to add, “And I am not seeking.”
Megatron lifted a hand, forestalling the fear he could see gathering in the smol's eyes. “It is not a requirement. I merely asked to know if we should keep our eyes on the horizon for someone to follow after you.”
Starscream shook his head, a wealth of sadness darkening his eyes. “There is no one.”
What a lonely life he must have led, Megatron realized and sympathized. Harpies were not made to be alone. Even the unmated sought comfort and connection with family members and other unmated. As a newcomer, Starscream would have no friends or family to share a nest.
“I am sorry to hear that.” Megatron rose to his full height and looked at the gathered crowd.
Much of it had dispersed once his flock had seen their Liege attending to the matter. Many lingered, most of them in Megatron's inner circle. Soundwave, of course, but also Shockwave and Sunstorm, one of whom was was mated and always willing to take in new additions to the flock.
Shockwave's mate, another bara named Orion, would likely insist upon it. Not for himself, but because Orion had a core of spun platinum. He refused to see any smol sleep alone if he could help it. He was a nurturer at core, like Soundwave, a smol's core in a bara's body.
Megatron's flock continued to be that of misfits. But he found he preferred it that way.
He gestured Shockwave and Sunstorm closer. The scarred bara was the first to approach, the largest of those present save for Megatron himself. He dipped his head in a bow to Starscream. Sunstorm, meanwhile, smiled, his muted gold shades and slighter frame marking him as a smol, like Starscream. Perhaps even from the same flock.
Both carried the telltale recoil of a smol raised in Vos.
“You are without a family unit,” Megatron continued as he spoke to Starscream. “Both Shockwave and Sunstorm are open to supporting unmated smols. As Liege, my nest is also open to you.” Privately, he hoped Starscream would decline.
Megatron was willing to support any smol in his nest with no questions asked. But he still preferred his privacy. He was as much a nontraditional Liege as the rest of his flock were nontraditional harpies. Once upon a time, his nest might have been shared by another, but Megatron had let him slip through his talons. In the end, that might have been better. Megatron had no business being another's mate.
Not that he would ever tell anyone why. Soundwave knew as a matter of necessity, but it was no one else's concern. Megatron was a fitting Liege for his size, skill, and intelligence. There need be no other qualification.
Starscream offered both a tentative smile, though his body language suggested he was uncomfortable. “I am not used to sharing nests...” he began as though carefully choosing his words.
“If you prefer solitude, that is fine as well,” Sunstorm said with a cheerful chirp and twitch of his long tail. “But at least allow me to show you around and get you settled.” He winked as he bounced toward Starscream and linked their elbows. “Though don't be surprised if Orion tracks you down later to ensure you are comfortable.”
Starscream's smile grew a little more strained. “I see. I thank you for your hospitality.”
“Oh, it's no trouble,” Sunstorm all but sang with a ruffle of his feathers. “Come on, Shockwave. Let's show our new addition around.”
Shockwave heaved a heavy breath and cast Megatron an amused look. “I trust you have no need of me, my liege?”
“None.” Megatron dismissed him with a flick of his hand, half-turning back toward his workroom. “Unless, of course, you wish to fill this paperwork for me.”
Shockwave laughed and fell into step after Starscream and Sunstorm, the latter of whom was already chattering away. If he noticed that Starscream looked as though he wanted to escape, Sunstorm gave no sign of it.
Megatron had the feeling they would be the best of friends by the end of it. Or the worst of enemies. One could never tell with Sunstorm.
“As for the rest of you,” Megatron said, addressing the dozen or so harpies who lingered, some of the baras looking after Starscream with approving speculation, “back to your duties and your families. The show's over.”
“I dunno, my Liege,” one of his warriors commented with a waggle of his eyebrows and a smirk. “Looks to me like the show's just beginning. He's a fiery one.”
Megatron gave Lockdown an unimpressed look. “We'll see. For now, talons off. He's not looking.”
“And what a shame that is.” Lockdown winked and turned away with a flicker of his dark feathers, a black so dark they carried an olive sheen.
He would bear watching. Not that Megatron hadn't noticed it before. Lockdown set off warning bells to Megatron’s instincts, though Soundwave’s careful research had discovered nothing dangerous in the bara’s past. Still, best to be watchful.
“Soundwave.”
His Speaker stepped up beside him, absently petting Frenzy as he cheeped at him for attention. Frenzy could speak just fine, but he and his brothers seemed to have developed some kind of private language among them, one Megatron was not privy to.
“I want a full report on Starscream,” Megatron murmured, careful to keep his tone low so his lingering flock could not overhear. “And find me someone to watch Lockdown. His recent behavior is troublesome.”
Lockdown’s comment had not been the first he’d made. He had a… history of offering unwanted attention to the unmated in Kaon – bara and smol alike, though he favored the smaller baras and the prettier smols.
Kaon's flock accepted all outliers and oddities. But Megatron did not tolerate criminals or those exhibiting disrespectful behavior. Lockdown seemed perfectly content to be heading toward both.
Soundwave dipped his head, his eyeshield catching a glint from the sun. His sensitive vision demanded the device, created by one of Megatron's top scientists, a large bara named Perceptor.
“It will be done, my Liege.”
“Good.” Megatron smiled and patted Soundwave on the shoulder opposite of where Frenzy had clambered up to perch. “Find me when you have something to report.”
Soundwave departed, and Megatron returned to his work room and the stack of paperwork waiting for him. He slid onto his stool, flicking his dark gray tail out of the way, but before he could return to the supply report, he pulled out his ledger. Megatron was always careful to keep track of every member of his flock.
Not all who came to Kaon chose to stay, but Megatron still liked to keep record. Especially since there were rumors of harpies disappearing from other flocks, almost as though they had been taken. Whether Starscream chose to stay or not, Megatron wanted to have record of his arrival.
He pulled the heavy tome off the woven shelf to his left and slid it atop his paperwork stack. It was half-full at this point, each page filled with neat, dark lines, some more extensive than others.
The large book, with its thick paper and durable binding, had been a gift from the dean of Kaon University once the agreement had been made for Megatron’s newly forming flock to settle here. It had come with an entire box of fountain pens, available in four different colors. While Megatron found them a little tricky to hold, they required far less effort than a quill.
He opened to the most recent entries and started to fill in Starscream's information, though some he would have to leave blank until Soundwave reported back. Place of origin and class were easy enough, but as for mated status, family to contact, and other interests… all of that would come with research.
He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and Megatron froze. There was a flash of something crimson and orange, and he had a moment to be alarmed, before his brain put two and two together. Alarm shifted to irritation.
“How long have you been here?” Megatron asked as he put down his quill and rubbed his face, pinching the bridge of his nose above the hard ridge of visible bone.
“Awwww.” Behind him, Hot Rod swished fully into view, a large grin on his face, and lucent feathers fluttering where they framed his cheeks. “How did you see me?”
“The fact that you are brightly colored might have something to do with it,” Megatron replied with a soft sigh. He turned to face the flame-colored smol, though he remained seated on his stool. This way, they were almost of a height, and he didn’t have to loom over the smaller harpy.
“Can I help you?”
Hot Rod grinned, locking his talons behind his back as he stepped closer, his collar feathers swaying with the motion. “You could start by looking happier to see me.”
Megatron rolled his eyes and turned back around. “You are persistent, I'll give you that much.” He picked up his quill and continued inking Starscream's information. Perhaps if he ignored Hot Rod long enough, the vain smol would give up and go bother someone else.
That tactic hadn't worked yet, but there was always the chance it might.
Except not this time because Megatron felt Hot Rod's long, elegant talons rest on his shoulders, a light touch that sent a shiver down Megatron's spine. The heat of the smol was tangible, as was the scent of him, ever so enticing to Megatron’s instincts. Hot Rod's body heat always seemed to be several degrees higher than the other smols, as though the color of his feathers reflected the fire burning within.
His feathers brushed against Megatron's own as Hot Rod leaned closer, his voice turning into a soft, rolling purr. “I know what I want,” Hot Rod murmured. “Perhaps you are not used to that. Your nest is empty, my liege. It's not right for a leader to be alone. Things must come in balance.”
The last sounded like something Hot Rod had plucked out of a textbook. It certainly wasn’t like the smol’s usual manner of speaking.
“Be that as it may, it is empty by choice, Hot Rod.” Megatron ruffled his feathers and shrugged his shoulders free of Hot Rod's gentle hold, despite how much he craved to turn and take the eager smol.
Hot Rod refused to be dissuaded.
He did pout so very enticingly. Megatron caught sight of Hot Rod's face in the reflection on his metal-plated ink pot. His blue eyes were shimmering with happiness, though his plump lips pulled downward with disappointment.
Megatron banished thoughts of kissing away Hot Rod’s pout. Of drawing that lower lip between his teeth and applying the gentlest of pressures, just to hear the pretty smol moan and see him arch his back.
“There are at least a dozen unmated baras in my flock, or another smol if you are so inclined,” Megatron continued, making it a point not to turn and look at Hot Rod. Too much temptation lingered in a mere glance. “You are welcome to display for any of them.”
Megatron even promised he wouldn’t be jealous of whosoever else Hot Rod chose.
Much.
Hot Rod swished to Megatron's right side and braced his weight upon the desk, planting his right hand in the middle of Megatron's book as he leaned in closer. “I don’t want them. I want you.” It was all but a purr, a rolling warmth that drizzled down Megatron’s spine and set his senses ablaze.
Megatron turned his head to look up at the smol, who was nibbling on his bottom lip. There was a tremble to his body that suggested he was fighting against his instincts. Hot Rod was one of the most natural smols Megatron had ever met, yet in the past two years of his residence here, he still refused to take a mate. Surely, it pained him.
Still, he claimed he would have Megatron or none at all. He hopped nests as well, often sleeping with Shockwave and Orion or Perceptor and Drift, but never staying in one nest for too long. Megatron had, on numerous occasions, caught him feigning illness to stay in Ratchet's medical center.
The one place he had not asked for a berth was Megatron's nest, despite that being his right as an unmated to ask of his Liege. There were some lines even someone as impetuous as Hot Rod would not cross apparently. He could have his own nest, if he so desired, but Hot Rod had not requested one. He seemed to prefer to drift from nest to nest as if none other would suit permanently but that of his mate’s.
It was behavior Megatron had seen before, usually in smols whose instincts were so attuned to their class they couldn’t fathom owning something that didn’t also belong to their mate.
Megatron sighed and turned toward Hot Rod again, a motion which put their bodies in closer proximity. His nostrils flared as the smol's unique scent flooded his senses, and Megatron's body rumbled, dangerously close to a mating purr. Sweet and sultry, raspberries and sweet cream, the spicier tang of almonds underlying it all.
Damn it.
“I intend to remain unmated, Hot Rod,” Megatron said, quite sure he'd explained this before and hoping that perhaps this time, he would get through to Hot Rod. “I have no interest in mates or… or fledglings.” The last hurt to say because it was largely untrue, but he could not admit such to Hot Rod.
It was a lie, but it was also truth. Megatron had no interest in fledglings because they were not in his future. He would have to content himself with protecting the fledglings of his flock alone.
“Aside from that, the life of a liege leaves little room for the satisfaction of a mate, much less a smol such as yourself who commands attention.” He curled his forefinger under Hot Rod's chin, an act of affection between a liege and his flockmember. “I would ask that you seek the interest of another for your own sake.”
Hot Rod's breathing audibly quickened. He tilted his head down toward Megatron's finger even as his feathers rustled. His eyes, bright and blue, grew larger, pupils dilating.
“You say you have no interest in anyone else, but I saw the way you looked at that Vosian,” he murmured, envy so heavy in his tone that Megatron could almost taste it.
Megatron blinked. He had few Vosians in his flock, it was a long and difficult journey between there and Kaon, one few survived. Of those Vosian refugees, Megatron had spared none so much as a second glance. Did Hot Rod mean the new arrival?
“Starscream?”
“Yes. Him.” Hot Rod frowned, but didn't withdraw. If anything, he leaned into Megatron's touch, as though he craved it. His instincts begged for the strong hand of a mate. He was only hurting himself with his stubbornness that said hand be Megatron's.
Megatron tried not to laugh, but all he managed to do was reduce it to a light chuckle. “If you saw anything in my look, it was suspicion. It is difficult to leave the Vosian flock. I am impressed Starscream survived it. There was no further interest, other than that of a liege for his flock members.”
“It was more than that,” Hot Rod insisted.
Megatron sighed and dropped his hand, ignoring the disappointed shade to Hot Rod's eyes. “Jealousy is unbecoming on you, Hot Rod. Especially when there is nothing to cause your envy. Now do you not have responsibilities in my flock or shall I get Soundwave to assign you some?”
It was chastisement and reminder. He was Liege and Hot Rod was overstepping. A certain degree of spirit in a member of his flock and a pretty smol was acceptable. But Hot Rod's insistence bordered on disrespectful at times and dangerously close to a vie for leadership.
Hot Rod stepped back, removing his talons from Megatron's desk. His disappointment was palpable as his plumage settled, and his feathers slicked down against his body, making himself appear smaller. Megatron's insides quivered, longing to comfort the saddened smol. But Hot Rod would only take it as encouragement.
Besides, Megatron knew he would go to Orion. Of all the mated baras, Hot Rod preferred Orion for comfort and protection. At least he had chosen well.
“I am due a shift in the cradle,” Hot Rod admitted, though it was with a wince.
Megatron frowned.
Hot Rod was ill-suited to caring for the fledglings. He was too brash, too easily excitable. He needed something a bit more stimulating. Besides, it was supposed to be mated smols who tended to the fledglings. They were the ones whose coddling instincts had activated.
“Who gave you such an assignment? I will speak with them to put you somewhere better suited,” Megatron said, thoughts shifting toward the duties of a liege, rather than the duties of an unmated bara. The distraction was very welcome.
“No, no. It's fine.” Hot Rod backed away, his tail nearly causing a small stand and vase to topple. “I'm happy to help where I'm needed. Really.”
Megatron eyebrows drew down. “If you insist. But it's no trouble. I do want you to be happy here, Hot Rod. I just want you to realize that happiness isn’t going to involve a relationship with me.”
Flame-colored feathers drooped further. “Yeah.” Hot Rod’s smile fell flat on the edges. “I'm coming to understand that.” He dipped his head, plumage slicked tight to his crown. “I'll see you at supper.”
He left before Megatron could find another word.
Megatron's frown deepened.
Hot Rod was an odd one. But then, there wasn't a single member of Megatron's flock who was not unusual in some way. It was a point of pride for him.
Outliers and outcasts. Those who broke the mold and those who never fit in them. They even had a treaty with the humans, a feat no other flock in all of Cybertron could boast.
Megatron's flock was small, and it would never be a powerhouse like Iacon or Vos' flocks, but he preferred it this way. His flock was loyal. His flock was determined to protect itself.
His flock was home.
~
a/n: And so it begins. The first chapter of the first fic in what is going to be a massive series. :)
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
Universe: Flights of Fancy
Characters: Megatron/Rodimus, Soundwave, Shockwave/Orion Pax, Starscream, Ensemble
Rating: M
Enticements: Harpyformers AU, Sexual Content, Romance, Unrequited Love, Angst, Fluff, Slow burn
Summary: If asked, Liege Megatron of the Kaon Aerie would say his life was perfect. With a content, growing flock to manage, he had nothing to worry about. Loneliness was part of a Liege’s life, he’d decided. Until the bright-spirited Hot Rod comes along, determined to be the exception to the rule.
It was the increasingly loud accumulation of noise and shouting and clicking that roused Megatron from his scrolls and away from his desk. He stood, rolling his shoulders and fluffing his feather-mane as the noise not only grew louder, but also closer.
He frowned, flipped a sheet over the stacks of private documents and stepped out of his office, ducking under the low-hanging tapestry that served as his door. Here in Kaon, the temperatures remained steady and balmy, except for a single month in the worst of winter. They didn't need anything heavier.
A crowd had gathered outside his door, an easy feat considering he kept his office on the lowest level. Megatron's frown deepened as said gathering had formed a circle with some unfortunate harpy in the middle. He could see nothing yet but flashes of crimson feathers. He was a smol. A single smol and not one Megatron recognized as belonging to his flock.
Megatron rose to his full height. He was not the largest of his flock, that honor was reserved for Maximus and Roadbuster, but his authority carried a weight of its own. Those closest to him immediately lapsed into silence, and recognition spread quickly.
“What is going on here?” Megatron demanded as he cut through the crowd. They parted to make way for him, as they were expected to do.
“There is a newcomer, my liege.”
The answer came from his right, the voice belonging to his most-trusted Speaker. Megatron turned as the dark blue harpy slinked up to him, one of his younger siblings clinging to the thick floof at his midsection. Soundwave was never seen without at least one.
Laserbeak, like her twin Buzzsaw, was usually content to perch upon Soundwave’s shoulders, nearly lost to the ring of feathers, but Frenzy and Rumble clung to his midsection while Ravage enjoyed taking position upon Soundwave’s tail. Ravage did have impeccable balance.
Today, it was Frenzy who had a tight grip on Soundwave’s belly.
“From where?” Megatron demanded as together, they moved through the rest of the crowd to the center and the half-kneeling, half-collapsed smol being guarded by one of Megatron's best warriors and also his fencemaster. Drift might have been a smol himself, but he was one of the fiercest fighters Megatron had ever met.
“The Vosian flock,” Soundwave replied as Frenzy made some kind of chattering noise, his eyes narrowed at the newly arrived smol.
Megatron made a noncommittal noise and looked down at the crimson harpy. He was of a size with Drift, but only just. His flame-colored feathers certainly marked him as other. Megatron had few harpies in his flock who sported such brilliant shades, even among his smols. There were wounds as well. Blood speckled his feathers and some had been torn away. The blood was old, rust-colored and flaking away, barely visible against the crimson of his feathers.
“Have you seen battle?” Megatron asked, careful to keep his tone gentle. He suspected this was another refugee smol, one who had fought for his freedom from a restrictive society.
The smol kept his head bowed, his feathers slicked. He had been taught manners, proper to some cities, offensive to others. Clearly, this one was from a society of the former, places where smols were meant to be seen and not heard.
“No, Liege Megatron,” he replied, his voice a grating rasp that made Megatron grimace after listening to Soundwave's more dulcet tones. “But I have been on my own for some time and the world is not welcoming to a flockless harpy.” A small sound rose in his throat, one of loneliness and loss.
Megatron's core ached to hear it. His instincts fluffed up his feathering. He sank to one knee, all the better to see the smol, and all the better to soothe his instincts, which demanded he comfort the poor harpy. Some of the nearest baras around him, especially those unmated, responded as well. Many with interest.
It had been some time since they welcomed a refugee. Recurve had been the last, and a bara much to the disappointment of many of the unmated.
Megatron offered a hand to the poor smol, talons curled inward, a show of trust. “Why are you alone, little smol? Where is your flock?”
There was silence. The smol shivered, his feathers rustling. He did not look up, the feathers upon his crown drooping. Yes, an abused one indeed. Megatron had welcomed many such harpies to his flock.
“My liege--”
Megatron lifted a wing, silencing Soundwave before he could speak again. He wanted to hear the answer from the smol. He would rely on Soundwave's information later. He wanted to hear what truth the crimson one would offer him.
“I am willing to offer you a home, little one,” Megatron continued, hand waiting patiently. “We are a flock of misfits, after all. And as far as I know, I am the only flock willing to accept outsiders. But I must know what has caused you to be outcast. I must know if I am welcoming danger to my flock.”
The smol's clawed hands rested on the woven branches of the aerie floor. His fingers drew tight, talons scraping lines into the wood.
“I am no danger, my liege,” he rasped and finally lifted his head, his eyes as red as his feathers. Truly, a unique harpy. “And my only crime is one of curiosity.”
“Curiosity.” Megatron tilted his head. He could think of only one curiosity that would be frowned upon by the more traditional flocks. “You are interested in humans.”
The smol ducked his head, but his gaze did not leave Megatron's. “They are fascinating. They are not as cruel as the stories would have us believe. Their ways are different, but not wrong. I only wanted to study, to learn...” he paused, tongue flicking over his bottom lip. A crust of blood had formed at the corner of his mouth. “But it’s not proper, for a smol, to be so curious.”
Not in Vos. Megatron had been there once upon a time. Vos had strict conventions regarding the behavior of their flock. Smols and baras were expected to obey these rules, and they were not allowed to stray. Misbehavior was said to invite chaos into their nests, into their flock, and into their aerie.
Leadership claimed that the commandments were crafted for the good of the flock. In reality, they were for the good of the few, and they made Vos a rigid, unwelcoming place.
This smol would not be the first harpy Megatron had welcomed from Vos.
“Things are different here,” Megatron said with a wry tone. “If you want to study the humans, that is your right, only know that you may still be viewed as an oddity.”
“I can handle being considered unusual,” the smol replied, with something like relief shuddering through his body. His feathers eased, loosening from their tight clamp. “What I cannot live with is being stifled and shoved into a cage that does not fit.”
Megatron pushed his offered hand a little closer. “Then you are welcome here, little smol, provided my Speaker's research does not prove you to be a danger. What are you called?”
The smol's eyes flicked from Megatron's face to his offered hand and back again. “Your Speaker will find nothing.” He lifted a hand, turning his palm upward and laying the back of it against Megatron's curled fingers. “I am Starscream.”
“Very well, Starscream.” Megatron rose to his full height, drawing up Starscream as well, who was tall for a smol, but very lithe. “Welcome to Kaon.”
His flock cheered, a welcome change from the hiss and clicking of uncertainty and agitation. Megatron's flock was not unused to newcomers as he hadn't lied. They were a flock of misfits, gathered from flocks all across Cybertron. But they'd had their share of monsters, and they were right to be cautious.
Starscream ducked his head, his crown feathers lifting as some of his confidence returned. “I am grateful for your hospitality, my liege.”
“Here in Kaon, we welcome all who are willing to put in the effort to improve the flock,” Megatron said as he returned the dip with a lift of his chin. He dropped his hand so that Starscream might reclaim his own. “You are unmated?”
“I am,” Starscream answered and his tail feathers spread as he was quick to add, “And I am not seeking.”
Megatron lifted a hand, forestalling the fear he could see gathering in the smol's eyes. “It is not a requirement. I merely asked to know if we should keep our eyes on the horizon for someone to follow after you.”
Starscream shook his head, a wealth of sadness darkening his eyes. “There is no one.”
What a lonely life he must have led, Megatron realized and sympathized. Harpies were not made to be alone. Even the unmated sought comfort and connection with family members and other unmated. As a newcomer, Starscream would have no friends or family to share a nest.
“I am sorry to hear that.” Megatron rose to his full height and looked at the gathered crowd.
Much of it had dispersed once his flock had seen their Liege attending to the matter. Many lingered, most of them in Megatron's inner circle. Soundwave, of course, but also Shockwave and Sunstorm, one of whom was was mated and always willing to take in new additions to the flock.
Shockwave's mate, another bara named Orion, would likely insist upon it. Not for himself, but because Orion had a core of spun platinum. He refused to see any smol sleep alone if he could help it. He was a nurturer at core, like Soundwave, a smol's core in a bara's body.
Megatron's flock continued to be that of misfits. But he found he preferred it that way.
He gestured Shockwave and Sunstorm closer. The scarred bara was the first to approach, the largest of those present save for Megatron himself. He dipped his head in a bow to Starscream. Sunstorm, meanwhile, smiled, his muted gold shades and slighter frame marking him as a smol, like Starscream. Perhaps even from the same flock.
Both carried the telltale recoil of a smol raised in Vos.
“You are without a family unit,” Megatron continued as he spoke to Starscream. “Both Shockwave and Sunstorm are open to supporting unmated smols. As Liege, my nest is also open to you.” Privately, he hoped Starscream would decline.
Megatron was willing to support any smol in his nest with no questions asked. But he still preferred his privacy. He was as much a nontraditional Liege as the rest of his flock were nontraditional harpies. Once upon a time, his nest might have been shared by another, but Megatron had let him slip through his talons. In the end, that might have been better. Megatron had no business being another's mate.
Not that he would ever tell anyone why. Soundwave knew as a matter of necessity, but it was no one else's concern. Megatron was a fitting Liege for his size, skill, and intelligence. There need be no other qualification.
Starscream offered both a tentative smile, though his body language suggested he was uncomfortable. “I am not used to sharing nests...” he began as though carefully choosing his words.
“If you prefer solitude, that is fine as well,” Sunstorm said with a cheerful chirp and twitch of his long tail. “But at least allow me to show you around and get you settled.” He winked as he bounced toward Starscream and linked their elbows. “Though don't be surprised if Orion tracks you down later to ensure you are comfortable.”
Starscream's smile grew a little more strained. “I see. I thank you for your hospitality.”
“Oh, it's no trouble,” Sunstorm all but sang with a ruffle of his feathers. “Come on, Shockwave. Let's show our new addition around.”
Shockwave heaved a heavy breath and cast Megatron an amused look. “I trust you have no need of me, my liege?”
“None.” Megatron dismissed him with a flick of his hand, half-turning back toward his workroom. “Unless, of course, you wish to fill this paperwork for me.”
Shockwave laughed and fell into step after Starscream and Sunstorm, the latter of whom was already chattering away. If he noticed that Starscream looked as though he wanted to escape, Sunstorm gave no sign of it.
Megatron had the feeling they would be the best of friends by the end of it. Or the worst of enemies. One could never tell with Sunstorm.
“As for the rest of you,” Megatron said, addressing the dozen or so harpies who lingered, some of the baras looking after Starscream with approving speculation, “back to your duties and your families. The show's over.”
“I dunno, my Liege,” one of his warriors commented with a waggle of his eyebrows and a smirk. “Looks to me like the show's just beginning. He's a fiery one.”
Megatron gave Lockdown an unimpressed look. “We'll see. For now, talons off. He's not looking.”
“And what a shame that is.” Lockdown winked and turned away with a flicker of his dark feathers, a black so dark they carried an olive sheen.
He would bear watching. Not that Megatron hadn't noticed it before. Lockdown set off warning bells to Megatron’s instincts, though Soundwave’s careful research had discovered nothing dangerous in the bara’s past. Still, best to be watchful.
“Soundwave.”
His Speaker stepped up beside him, absently petting Frenzy as he cheeped at him for attention. Frenzy could speak just fine, but he and his brothers seemed to have developed some kind of private language among them, one Megatron was not privy to.
“I want a full report on Starscream,” Megatron murmured, careful to keep his tone low so his lingering flock could not overhear. “And find me someone to watch Lockdown. His recent behavior is troublesome.”
Lockdown’s comment had not been the first he’d made. He had a… history of offering unwanted attention to the unmated in Kaon – bara and smol alike, though he favored the smaller baras and the prettier smols.
Kaon's flock accepted all outliers and oddities. But Megatron did not tolerate criminals or those exhibiting disrespectful behavior. Lockdown seemed perfectly content to be heading toward both.
Soundwave dipped his head, his eyeshield catching a glint from the sun. His sensitive vision demanded the device, created by one of Megatron's top scientists, a large bara named Perceptor.
“It will be done, my Liege.”
“Good.” Megatron smiled and patted Soundwave on the shoulder opposite of where Frenzy had clambered up to perch. “Find me when you have something to report.”
Soundwave departed, and Megatron returned to his work room and the stack of paperwork waiting for him. He slid onto his stool, flicking his dark gray tail out of the way, but before he could return to the supply report, he pulled out his ledger. Megatron was always careful to keep track of every member of his flock.
Not all who came to Kaon chose to stay, but Megatron still liked to keep record. Especially since there were rumors of harpies disappearing from other flocks, almost as though they had been taken. Whether Starscream chose to stay or not, Megatron wanted to have record of his arrival.
He pulled the heavy tome off the woven shelf to his left and slid it atop his paperwork stack. It was half-full at this point, each page filled with neat, dark lines, some more extensive than others.
The large book, with its thick paper and durable binding, had been a gift from the dean of Kaon University once the agreement had been made for Megatron’s newly forming flock to settle here. It had come with an entire box of fountain pens, available in four different colors. While Megatron found them a little tricky to hold, they required far less effort than a quill.
He opened to the most recent entries and started to fill in Starscream's information, though some he would have to leave blank until Soundwave reported back. Place of origin and class were easy enough, but as for mated status, family to contact, and other interests… all of that would come with research.
He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and Megatron froze. There was a flash of something crimson and orange, and he had a moment to be alarmed, before his brain put two and two together. Alarm shifted to irritation.
“How long have you been here?” Megatron asked as he put down his quill and rubbed his face, pinching the bridge of his nose above the hard ridge of visible bone.
“Awwww.” Behind him, Hot Rod swished fully into view, a large grin on his face, and lucent feathers fluttering where they framed his cheeks. “How did you see me?”
“The fact that you are brightly colored might have something to do with it,” Megatron replied with a soft sigh. He turned to face the flame-colored smol, though he remained seated on his stool. This way, they were almost of a height, and he didn’t have to loom over the smaller harpy.
“Can I help you?”
Hot Rod grinned, locking his talons behind his back as he stepped closer, his collar feathers swaying with the motion. “You could start by looking happier to see me.”
Megatron rolled his eyes and turned back around. “You are persistent, I'll give you that much.” He picked up his quill and continued inking Starscream's information. Perhaps if he ignored Hot Rod long enough, the vain smol would give up and go bother someone else.
That tactic hadn't worked yet, but there was always the chance it might.
Except not this time because Megatron felt Hot Rod's long, elegant talons rest on his shoulders, a light touch that sent a shiver down Megatron's spine. The heat of the smol was tangible, as was the scent of him, ever so enticing to Megatron’s instincts. Hot Rod's body heat always seemed to be several degrees higher than the other smols, as though the color of his feathers reflected the fire burning within.
His feathers brushed against Megatron's own as Hot Rod leaned closer, his voice turning into a soft, rolling purr. “I know what I want,” Hot Rod murmured. “Perhaps you are not used to that. Your nest is empty, my liege. It's not right for a leader to be alone. Things must come in balance.”
The last sounded like something Hot Rod had plucked out of a textbook. It certainly wasn’t like the smol’s usual manner of speaking.
“Be that as it may, it is empty by choice, Hot Rod.” Megatron ruffled his feathers and shrugged his shoulders free of Hot Rod's gentle hold, despite how much he craved to turn and take the eager smol.
Hot Rod refused to be dissuaded.
He did pout so very enticingly. Megatron caught sight of Hot Rod's face in the reflection on his metal-plated ink pot. His blue eyes were shimmering with happiness, though his plump lips pulled downward with disappointment.
Megatron banished thoughts of kissing away Hot Rod’s pout. Of drawing that lower lip between his teeth and applying the gentlest of pressures, just to hear the pretty smol moan and see him arch his back.
“There are at least a dozen unmated baras in my flock, or another smol if you are so inclined,” Megatron continued, making it a point not to turn and look at Hot Rod. Too much temptation lingered in a mere glance. “You are welcome to display for any of them.”
Megatron even promised he wouldn’t be jealous of whosoever else Hot Rod chose.
Much.
Hot Rod swished to Megatron's right side and braced his weight upon the desk, planting his right hand in the middle of Megatron's book as he leaned in closer. “I don’t want them. I want you.” It was all but a purr, a rolling warmth that drizzled down Megatron’s spine and set his senses ablaze.
Megatron turned his head to look up at the smol, who was nibbling on his bottom lip. There was a tremble to his body that suggested he was fighting against his instincts. Hot Rod was one of the most natural smols Megatron had ever met, yet in the past two years of his residence here, he still refused to take a mate. Surely, it pained him.
Still, he claimed he would have Megatron or none at all. He hopped nests as well, often sleeping with Shockwave and Orion or Perceptor and Drift, but never staying in one nest for too long. Megatron had, on numerous occasions, caught him feigning illness to stay in Ratchet's medical center.
The one place he had not asked for a berth was Megatron's nest, despite that being his right as an unmated to ask of his Liege. There were some lines even someone as impetuous as Hot Rod would not cross apparently. He could have his own nest, if he so desired, but Hot Rod had not requested one. He seemed to prefer to drift from nest to nest as if none other would suit permanently but that of his mate’s.
It was behavior Megatron had seen before, usually in smols whose instincts were so attuned to their class they couldn’t fathom owning something that didn’t also belong to their mate.
Megatron sighed and turned toward Hot Rod again, a motion which put their bodies in closer proximity. His nostrils flared as the smol's unique scent flooded his senses, and Megatron's body rumbled, dangerously close to a mating purr. Sweet and sultry, raspberries and sweet cream, the spicier tang of almonds underlying it all.
Damn it.
“I intend to remain unmated, Hot Rod,” Megatron said, quite sure he'd explained this before and hoping that perhaps this time, he would get through to Hot Rod. “I have no interest in mates or… or fledglings.” The last hurt to say because it was largely untrue, but he could not admit such to Hot Rod.
It was a lie, but it was also truth. Megatron had no interest in fledglings because they were not in his future. He would have to content himself with protecting the fledglings of his flock alone.
“Aside from that, the life of a liege leaves little room for the satisfaction of a mate, much less a smol such as yourself who commands attention.” He curled his forefinger under Hot Rod's chin, an act of affection between a liege and his flockmember. “I would ask that you seek the interest of another for your own sake.”
Hot Rod's breathing audibly quickened. He tilted his head down toward Megatron's finger even as his feathers rustled. His eyes, bright and blue, grew larger, pupils dilating.
“You say you have no interest in anyone else, but I saw the way you looked at that Vosian,” he murmured, envy so heavy in his tone that Megatron could almost taste it.
Megatron blinked. He had few Vosians in his flock, it was a long and difficult journey between there and Kaon, one few survived. Of those Vosian refugees, Megatron had spared none so much as a second glance. Did Hot Rod mean the new arrival?
“Starscream?”
“Yes. Him.” Hot Rod frowned, but didn't withdraw. If anything, he leaned into Megatron's touch, as though he craved it. His instincts begged for the strong hand of a mate. He was only hurting himself with his stubbornness that said hand be Megatron's.
Megatron tried not to laugh, but all he managed to do was reduce it to a light chuckle. “If you saw anything in my look, it was suspicion. It is difficult to leave the Vosian flock. I am impressed Starscream survived it. There was no further interest, other than that of a liege for his flock members.”
“It was more than that,” Hot Rod insisted.
Megatron sighed and dropped his hand, ignoring the disappointed shade to Hot Rod's eyes. “Jealousy is unbecoming on you, Hot Rod. Especially when there is nothing to cause your envy. Now do you not have responsibilities in my flock or shall I get Soundwave to assign you some?”
It was chastisement and reminder. He was Liege and Hot Rod was overstepping. A certain degree of spirit in a member of his flock and a pretty smol was acceptable. But Hot Rod's insistence bordered on disrespectful at times and dangerously close to a vie for leadership.
Hot Rod stepped back, removing his talons from Megatron's desk. His disappointment was palpable as his plumage settled, and his feathers slicked down against his body, making himself appear smaller. Megatron's insides quivered, longing to comfort the saddened smol. But Hot Rod would only take it as encouragement.
Besides, Megatron knew he would go to Orion. Of all the mated baras, Hot Rod preferred Orion for comfort and protection. At least he had chosen well.
“I am due a shift in the cradle,” Hot Rod admitted, though it was with a wince.
Megatron frowned.
Hot Rod was ill-suited to caring for the fledglings. He was too brash, too easily excitable. He needed something a bit more stimulating. Besides, it was supposed to be mated smols who tended to the fledglings. They were the ones whose coddling instincts had activated.
“Who gave you such an assignment? I will speak with them to put you somewhere better suited,” Megatron said, thoughts shifting toward the duties of a liege, rather than the duties of an unmated bara. The distraction was very welcome.
“No, no. It's fine.” Hot Rod backed away, his tail nearly causing a small stand and vase to topple. “I'm happy to help where I'm needed. Really.”
Megatron eyebrows drew down. “If you insist. But it's no trouble. I do want you to be happy here, Hot Rod. I just want you to realize that happiness isn’t going to involve a relationship with me.”
Flame-colored feathers drooped further. “Yeah.” Hot Rod’s smile fell flat on the edges. “I'm coming to understand that.” He dipped his head, plumage slicked tight to his crown. “I'll see you at supper.”
He left before Megatron could find another word.
Megatron's frown deepened.
Hot Rod was an odd one. But then, there wasn't a single member of Megatron's flock who was not unusual in some way. It was a point of pride for him.
Outliers and outcasts. Those who broke the mold and those who never fit in them. They even had a treaty with the humans, a feat no other flock in all of Cybertron could boast.
Megatron's flock was small, and it would never be a powerhouse like Iacon or Vos' flocks, but he preferred it this way. His flock was loyal. His flock was determined to protect itself.
His flock was home.
a/n: And so it begins. The first chapter of the first fic in what is going to be a massive series. :)
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
