[Flights of Fancy] Topsy-Turvy 02
Feb. 12th, 2018 05:10 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 Two
Starscream settled in as well as any others who had joined Megatron's flock. Newcomers were always anxious at first, afraid to rattle cages or break some unstated rule. Every other flock on Cybertron had their own ways, their own standards, but not Megatron's.
He only required they treat each other with respect and contribute to the flock in whatever meaningful manner they could. Anyone was allowed to mate with another, so long as it was consensual on both parts. Anyone could choose to learn a trade or skill, no matter if they were bara or smol.
Given what Soundwave had discovered of Starscream – a smol from Vos who had fled his flock because he despised his assigned partner – Megatron felt the newcomer would fit in well here. No one would force Starscream to mate, though there were already several interested baras circling Starscream's chosen nest, and Starscream would be free to pursue his scientific interests. The latter was also something Vos would not allow Starscream.
Smols were not meant to be learned. They were meant to mate, bear fledglings, and raise them. They were meant to manage nests and decorate the arms of their baras. They were meant to be quiet and soft-spoken and respectful.
Observing Starscream for a few mere hours only proved why he had not fit in among the Vos flock. Starscream was characteristically a bara, if not for his size and coloration. He was brash, dominant, and knew nothing of meekness. He was a leader, not a follower; a fighter, rather than a harpy of pacifism.
Megatron was confident Starscream would find a home here in Kaon. Even if he hadn’t gotten along well with Sunstorm. Neither friendship nor hatred had spawned between them, just a respectful distance.
Oh, well. At least, Starscream had made friends with others in the flock. He was not a harpy alone, which had been Megatron’s largest concern for the new arrival. Starscream was making himself at home, growing comfortable, and all was well.
Until a week after his arrival, Starscream abruptly disappeared, turning Megatron's flock upside down. Orion fretted and Sunstorm started muttering about human harpy traffickers and both refused to rest until Starscream was found.
Megatron arranged a search party. There were many volunteers, including Hot Rod. Small though the Kaon flock was, they were close knit. They looked after one another. They wouldn’t be able to survive otherwise.
Of the friendships Starscream had begun to cultivate, he’d built a unique one with Perceptor and Drift. It was Perceptor who suggested Starscream might have gone to visit the humans, especially given Starscream’s vocal fascination with them.
“So why don't you refrain from sweeping across the land like winged death and consider contacting Professor Shin first.” Perceptor tone was perfectly even, betraying none of the anxiety the rest of the flock seemed to harbor.
Perceptor's logic proved to be the winner.
It was a sheepish Starscream who returned to the aerie, damp from a late afternoon rainstorm, and chirping apologetically at Megatron, who greeted him with folded arms and a stern expression.
“I do not object to your curiosity with the humans,” Megatron said as Starscream stood in front of him, a properly contrite smol whose behavior smacked of his raising in Vos. It made Megatron ill to see it. “I only ask that you inform someone before you depart and your intended time of return. We are friendly with the university, but not all humans are as kind.”
“I understand.” Starscream's plumage drifted further down. “Thank you, my liege. I will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary.”
Megatron shook his head. “There is no punishment, Starscream. You are new and still learning our rules. Apologize and that will be enough. Along with a promise that in the future, you will keep us informed so that this doesn’t happen again.” One crisis a month was all Megatron could handle.
Surprise reflected in Starscream’s eyes, but he dipped his head again, another show of deference. “I promise, my liege.”
Megatron lifted the corners of his lips toward a smile and patted Starscream on the shoulder. “That is good to know. Now, avail yourself of the springs and get to nest before you catch sick. I understand you haven't met our chief physician yet?”
“No, my liege.”
Megatron chuckled. “Then be sure and do so tomorrow. He'll be in a much finer mood if you're not already ill when you come to him. Understand?”
Starscream nodded and eased out from under his hand, discomfort evident in the lay of his feathers. Megatron retracted his hand and made a mental note – traditional body language would not work with Starscream. Good to know.
“Yes, my liege. Have a good eve.” Starscream ducked his head in a show of respect and scuttled into the aerie proper, casting one last look over his shoulder.
It would have been amusing, if Starscream's behavior wasn't indicative of abuse. Megatron had heard stories of Vos. He held two other refugees from the Vosian flock. Their strict rules suited few harpies, but even fewer chose to risk their cores and leave.
In any case, with Starscream returned safe and sound, Orion could stop fretting and Megatron could return to his nest for much needed sleep. But not before he delivered a message to Perceptor, who had insisted he be informed the moment Starscream safely returned. He and Drift had… adopted, one could say, the newly joined smol.
Megatron suspected Perceptor was relieved to have an intellectual equal within the aerie. Despite living within sight-distance of a human university and despite the eclectic nature of Megatron's flock, he had few scientists and even fewer of those interested in human studies. There was Brainstorm, of course, but he and Perceptor did not get along.
More on Perceptor's end than Brainstorm's. The latter's blatant enthusiasm for all things explosive and his lack of interest in safety measures grated on Perceptor's patience. Brainstorm was one of the few harpies in Megatron’s flock who was officially banned from having direct contact with the humans and visiting Kaon University without a chaperone. The trouble he could get into was not worth it.
Perceptor and Drift lived on one of the highest platforms in the aerie. Years before Megatron’s arrival, Perceptor had been gifted a telescope by Professor Shin, and it was best placed at the highest elevation. Drift, also, had a preference for residing as far from the ground as possible.
That Brainstorm preferred to reside on the ground level might have also had something to do with their choice of nest location.
Presently, the mated pair had their door pulled open, welcoming all inside. The lightning balls that served as lanterns gave off a soft and inviting blue glow. The low murmur of conversation drifted out, reassuring Megatron that they weren't intimately occupied. Though Perceptor and Drift had often invited a voyeur or several, Megatron was not one who had taken them up on their offer.
He rapped his knuckles against the frame to announce his presence and stepped into the nest, as always, first taken by the lattice of branches which formed their ceiling. Drift had taken days to strip the leaves and weave the thin, supple twigs into a beautiful, geometric design. Little chains hung from the ceiling as well, cheap and colorful baubles dangling from the ends in random placement.
The ceiling resembled the night sky, if one knew how to look. The balcony might house their telescope, but from anywhere in the nest, they could peer upward and see an approximation of the sky.
The ceiling art had been Drift's claiming gift to Perceptor, though one had not been needed. Drift was determined to prove his devotion.
Perceptor and Drift were currently curled around each other in their nest, a construction of pillows and bamboo matting and woven willow-bark – all Drift's doing. He had the nimble fingers of an artisan, and while he was a smol, the almost dull nature of his coloring and the fact that he favored being a warrior, was what made him something of an outcast, and brought him here, to Megatron’s aerie.
Drift and Perceptor were twined together, a mix of gold-white-red feathers and crimson-black. Perceptor was the first to notice Megatron, and he nudged Drift out of a doze.
“No, don't get up,” Megatron said. He lifted a hand, his belly clenched with both jealousy and longing.
Like so many in his flock, Perceptor and Drift had a love story for the ages. Megatron couldn't deny he was envious of their connection. His nest would be forever empty and seeing happily mated pairs was a constant reminder of that.
Jealousy, however, did not become a Liege. So he swallowed it down.
“Starscream safely returned of his own accord,” Megatron informed them as Drift settled back into Perceptor's arms, purring a quiet song as Perceptor stroked his back. “Given the weather, I sent him to the springs, but perhaps he might benefit from some assistance.”
Drift chuckled, though he neither had his eyes open nor was he looking at Megatron. “Are you ordering us to groom him, sir?”
“Merely making a gentle suggestion. A nudge if you will.” Megatron let the corners of his mouth curve toward a smile. “It is evident to me Starscream could use as many friends as are willing to accept the role. And it seems to me that he is too used to berthing alone.”
Perceptor laughed. “I can think of one other who has the same problem.” He gave Megatron a pointed look.
“I don't know what you mean.” Megatron waved him off and turned back toward the door. “In any case, I've done my duty. Kindly refrain from calling me out in front of the flock in the morn.”
It happened so frequently, Megatron often wondered if he was less Liege of his flock, and more shepherd of a clowder of unruly cats. A fair percentage of his flock was outspoken, and had no compunctions about raising their voices to him.
“I make no promises.” Perceptor’s attention returned to Drift, and he nuzzled his mate’s forehead. “Come along, buttercup. I hear there is a scientist in need of grooming in the springs.”
Drift's back plumage raised and rustled. “Mmm. Are we getting a private pool?” His chest rumbled invitingly.
Time to go.
If they were going to flirt, it was Megatron's cue to leave. Sadly, they didn't notice his departure, even with him being kind enough to tug the tie keeping their curtain open. If they started rutting, Megatron didn't want someone wandering in on them without warning or invitation.
He stepped back into the main hallway and the still silence of a late evening. It was comforting to know his flock was settling down to sleep, cozy and safe.
Megatron ruffled his feathers and headed toward his own nest, though lonely and empty it might be. It was past time that he got some sleep of his own.
~
Megatron woke to bright slats of sunlight streaming across his eyes. He resisted the urge to pull a pillow over his face, as childish as it would be. After all, he had given Soundwave this task a long time ago.
His Speaker was not to blame for Megatron's own unwillingness to rise early.
“Appointment with Ratchet today,” Soundwave informed him as he stepped away from the window and the curtain he'd drawn. On his shoulder, Laserbeak twittered agreement. “Lateness not advised.”
“I remember,” Megatron grumbled. He hauled himself out of the twist of light blankets and pillows he called a nest and rose to his full height, stretching out his arms. It was starting to get warm as spring headed into summer, however, which meant he’d be discarding the blankets entirely soon.
“Anything happen I should know about?”
“Negative.” Soundwave slipped a talon under the edge of his mask, adjusting it and giving Megatron a brief glimpse of the scars striking across his jaw.
“Breakfast?”
Soundwave's plumage ruffled. “On the table.”
Megatron grinned. “I don't know what I'd do without you, Soundwave.” He snagged two oranges from the bowl of assorted fruits and nuts on the table – all his favorites and none of his dislikes. “And after Ratchet?”
“Promised visit to Cradle.”
Megatron tried not to tense as he peeled the orange, his talon easily slicing through the rind. “Yes, I remember now.” He loved the fledglings, honestly he did.
But they were also a painful reminder of what he could not have.
“Anything else?”
Soundwave shook his head and patted Laserbeak's crown. His smallest sibling purred as she knocked her head against his. “Liege's choice,” he said, with a hint of humor.
Megatron tilted his chin in acknowledgment. “Understood. Thank you, Soundwave.”
His Speaker dipped his head in a nod and took his leave. He had his own duties to attend, though he’d adopted waking Megatron as one of them. It was in Soundwave’s blood to be a caretaker. He’d taken on the task of raising his siblings – related and adopted – when no one else would.
Megatron finished off his breakfast, trying to ignore the niggle of disquiet in his belly. It had no true origin, just a sense of restlessness as of late. He chalked it up to his instincts, making their presence known again.
He should have mated years ago.
Stretching and fluffing his feathers, Megatron left his nest and headed for the medical center that his chief physician, a strong-willed bara named Ratchet, called his domain. Ratchet was unmated and divided his time between running the medical center and volunteering in the Cradle.
He was even older than Megatron. Why Ratchet had yet to take a mate, Megatron did not know. And it was not his place to ask. Unless Ratchet became visibly depressed or unhappy, his choices were his own to make.
Though if Ratchet continued to overwork himself, Megatron might force the healer into a sabbatical leave. There were others who could temporarily assume Ratchet's duties. Yes, Megatron's flock was small. But each and every member of it was important to him. He would not see anyone strain themselves.
Megatron stepped through the open doorway of the medical center and peered into the reception area. There was no one in sight, and all of the privacy curtains had been drawn.
So Ratchet had no patients. Could it be? Was the healer taking a moment to rest?
But, no. There he was, emerging from behind the thick curtain that separated his private nest from the medical center. Ratchet could not be convinced to nest elsewhere. Work was his life, he claimed. He needed nothing else.
As far as Megatron knew, he never even used the secondary door that opened to the hallway.
“There you are,” the old medic rasped as he swept a talon across his reddish plumage. He was a massive bara, only a little smaller than Megatron himself, and having seen Ratchet spar with the warriors, Megatron knew he could put up a suitable challenge, if he so desired. “Didn’t Soundwave wake you up in time?”
Megatron's inability to wake himself was something of a running joke amongst those he considered his command team. As chief healer, Ratchet was included in that group. As were Soundwave, Shockwave, and Orion.
“Our missing smol returned last night, making for a long evening.” Megatron rubbed at his forehead and eyed Ratchet. “Speaking of whom, I trust Starscream made his way in to see you?”
Ratchet waved him toward an examination hammock and snorted. “Of course not. But never you mind. I'll track him down myself.”
“I do not envy you that task.”
“You shouldn’t envy Starscream forcing me to do so.” Ratchet planted his hands on his hips, giving Megatron a quick once-over. “Well, any complaints I should know about before I get started? Aches? Pains? Unusual morning expulsions?”
Megatron blinked as he made himself comfortable. “I take it the last was a joke.”
“What? You don't recognize humor when you see it?” Ratchet smirked. My, he was in a fine mood this morning. Perhaps he'd finally taken Perceptor and Drift up on their offer. A little rutting could only help Ratchet’s often irascible temper.
“As near as I can tell, I am in perfect health,” Megatron said.
Ratchet circled around him. “Mm. I'll be the judge of that. You haven't rutted as long as I've known you, my liege. And that is not healthy.”
“Yes, but--”
“Ep-ep-ep. Don't give me the same tired excuses you always give me.” Ratchet paused behind Megatron and leaned down, examining his wing joints. “You know what my answer is gonna be.”
Megatron bit back a sigh and tried not to flinch as Ratchet's primary claw dug into his joint, just beneath a tight cluster of feathers. “I'll take your medical advice into consideration.”
“No, you won't.” Ratchet snorted and removed his talon, circling back around. “Just like the rest of the molters in here, you aren't going to listen to me until it's too late.”
Megatron's lip curled toward a smirk. “One could say the same about you, Ratchet. When was the last time your nest was occupied?”
“Two weeks ago, I'll have you know.” Ratchet grinned, and his eyes sparkled with a sharp humor. “One can rut without mating, you know.”
“I'm aware.”
“Sometimes, I'm not so sure.” Ratchet gave him a stern glare. “You're also not properly groomed. Am I going to have to tell Orion on you or will you be a good little fledgeling and ask for help?”
He gritted his teeth. “You do not have to report on me like a carrier I don’t need, medic. I will approach Orion and Shockwave on my own.” Or he would make a request of Soundwave, though it was always harder to catch his Speaker in a free moment. Wrangling five younger brothers was a job into itself.
“You had better. I'll be asking them in a week just to make sure,” Ratchet said.
There were times Megatron regretted appointing Ratchet as the chief physician for his flock. Ratchet was talented, intelligent, and his strength commanded respect. There were few baras as singularly powerful or intimidating, and he kept Megatron's flock in perfect health.
But his casual disrespect was aggravating on occasion.
It made Megatron wonder what had driven Ratchet to Kaon in the first place, and whether he was perhaps an ousted Liege of his own. Soundwave’s research had not turned up much in the way of information, save that Ratchet was from the Protihex flock, which came as no surprise. Most healers were born, raised, and educated in Protihex.
Megatron meant it, however. He did not care what had driven a harpy to the Kaon flock, so long as they weren't a danger.
Their secrets were their own to keep. Even if Ratchet was formerly a liege, it was no business of Megatron’s, unless Ratchet felt keen on sharing it. For now, Megatron would handle the disrespect the same way he handled everything else – with patience and dignity.
An hour of snarking later, Megatron was freed from the confines of Ratchet's territory, with yet another admonishment and recommendation. It wasn't healthy, Ratchet said. He needed to give in to his instincts before they took him over. Harpies weren't meant to be alone. They needed intimacy, even if it wasn't that of a mate.
Megatron had no family. The closest he considered were Orion and Soundwave, and both had their own nests to consider.
Lucky that he was Liege. He could consider the entire flock his family, and more often than not, that was enough to satisfy his instincts.
Until he visited the Cradle.
There were only six fledglings right now. There would be more, but Soundwave preferred to keep his siblings with him at all times. He was never seen without at least one hanging from his feathers.
The oldest of the current fledges was bright yellow and white. Sunspot was Sunstorm's, and as to who had sired the fledgling, Sunstorm would not admit. He had come to Kaon already heavy with egg and in desperate need of medical attention. He wouldn't even say which flock had been his home.
Megatron suspected that Sunstorm, like so many of the harpies in his flock, was running from both someone and something. Perhaps even the sire. There were many flocks like Vos who were strict with their smols, possessive even, and paid little attention to how their smols were treated by their bara mates. It would surprise Megatron very little if Sunstorm had escaped from an abusive mate.
Still, like all else, it did not matter. Sunstorm was an exceptional member of Megatron's flock. He was a fine addition. And he had risen to become their spiritual leader in short time – despite Megatron's own atheism.
Megatron would fight to protect him as would many other members of his flock.
Heatwave and Chase were the next eldest fledglings, brothers but not twins, with Heatwave a full year older than Chase. Bright red and blue respectively, they were Mirage and Tracks' fledglings, both of whom hailed from Crystal City. Mirage had come to Kaon to keep an eye on Orion as a favor to his mentor, but had opted to stay once he realized how much his mate flourished in Kaon.
Boulder was the next eldest, a bright green fledgling who could charm even the surliest of harpies in the flock. He was an orphan, left abandoned for reasons unknown, but he'd been adopted by Mirage and Tracks, and they considered him as blood. He was the friendliest youngling Megatron had ever met and could often be found snoozing in the lap of whomever was on duty.
He and Ratchet got along well. Something in Boulder's spirit seemed to tame Ratchet's grumpy core.
The youngest fledgling had only hatched just prior to his carrier’s arrival. He was a dark grey and red hatchling by the name of Skydive. He was quiet, patient, and right now, he was Megatron's favorite. His carrier was Whirl, another of Megatron’s guard and occasional artisan, and of the fledgling’s sire, Megatron did not know. Whirl often joked Skydive was the result of an immaculate conception.
There was sadness in the joke, however, and Whirl’s eyes often darkened if one knew how to look. His eyes – or eye rather – wasn’t the one of a harpy who’d gladly fled an abusive mate, but one who’d left because he’d had no other choice.
Such stories were also common in Kaon. While many came here seeking harbor, others came here because they had little choice. Foisted from their own flocks for the audacity of being different, Kaon was their only refuge. Megatron suspected Whirl’s arrival had something to do with the fact he’d been a carrying bara.
Shockwave was the caretaker on duty today. He usually only took one shift every couple of weeks, his research eating up the majority of his time. As Megatron arrived, he found the fledgelings were down for their midday nap, and Shockwave was curled on the observation hammock, nose buried in a book.
He smiled when he noticed Megatron, however, and marked his place, putting down what looked to be a fantasy novel of some kind. It was too small for his hands, which meant he had probably borrowed it from the humans. He and Perceptor, prior to Starscream's arrival, had the most contact with their non-feathered allies.
“Hello, Megatron.” Shockwave eased out of the hammock and pulled his arms into a long stretch, the scars along the limbs more obvious as he did so. “I hear Starscream returned last night.”
“And of his own accord,” Megatron replied with a smile. He peered over the small rail into the large cradle, where six fledglings curled together in a pool of colorful feathers. One could hardly tell where the first began and the last ended. “He was at the university.”
“So Perceptor was right?”
“Yes. And he intends to never let me forget either.”
Shockwave chuckled, though he kept it soft so as not to disturb the sleeping little ones. “That does sound like Percy. You read him the riot act?”
Megatron arched an eyebrow. “You think I'm that cruel? I only informed him of the rules.”
“You've a core of fluff, my liege,” Shockwave teased.
It was a miracle Shockwave had maintained his humor. If one were to look at him, they'd wonder why. A laboratory accident – one he admitted was his own fault – had taken an eye from him and left his face scarred. He was missing a couple fingers on his left hand and some of the feathers on his chest and wings had never grown back. Worse was that he’d lost his entire right wing from the elbow down.
He now used a prosthetic, one made for him by Perceptor working in concert with the humans at Kaon University. He’d had the prosthetic as long as Megatron had known him, and he could use it almost as nimbly as original limb. It enabled him to fly, albeit short distances.
Megatron made a noncommittal noise and leaned against the railing, looking down at the sleeping fledgelings. Heatwave twitched in his sleep and kicked Sunspot in the shoulder. The yellow fledgeling made a noise of disapproval and rolled over, cuddling closer to Skydive.
Shockwave leaned on the rail next to him. “Have you plans after supper?”
“Not that I'm aware of,” Megatron said as he shifted his gaze to the other bara. “Why?”
“Orion and I have something we wish to ask you.” Shockwave looked away, as though he were uncertain, though the only time Megatron had ever seen him less than confident was when he admitted he wished to ask Orion to mate with him and feared the answer.
Megatron managed a grin. “Well, Ratchet has been getting on to me about my scapulae.” He tilted his head. “Even exchange?”
Shockwave chuckled. “It is doctor's orders. I'm sure Orion will agree, too. He did mention you looked in need of a good grooming session.”
“He would notice.”
“Mm.”
The light click of footsteps announced the arrival of another harpy. Megatron and Shockwave both looked up to find Hot Rod easing his way into the nap room, first peering around the corner and then inching inside.
Ah. Megatron did remember Hot Rod mentioning he'd been given a few shifts in the Cradle. Megatron was supposed to have spoken to Soundwave about that. Hot Rod wasn't a terrible caretaker, but it was still not a task that suited him.
“Am I interrupting?” Hot Rod asked, wise enough to keep his voice low. There was a tangible droop to his feathers this morning, as though he’d lost some of the energy he usually carried in abundance.
Shockwave shook his head, feathers rustling. “Not at all. Our liege was just stopping by for his weekly visit.”
“An ill-timed one, apparently.” Megatron straightened. “I happened to catch the bitlets during their afternoon nap and not even I’m brave enough to interrupt that.”
Hot Rod chuckled quietly. “How wise of you.” He moved closer, peering into the cradle. “They look so peaceful.”
“For now. It is all a lie, however, for when they wake, they will continue to be tyrants.” Shockwave lightly rapped the pads of his fingers on the railing. “Are you here to assist me, Hot Rod?”
Hot Rod beamed, some of the glow returning to his face. “Yep. I’m assigned to the Cradle for the rest of the week.”
“An assignment I intend to have changed for the next cycle,” Megatron said. He folded his arms over his chest, refusing to look into the basket like a lovelorn carrier. “I’m sure we have other tasks that are better suited for you.”
Hot Rod’s face colored. His smile wiped away. “I told you, I’m happy to help wherever I’m needed.”
“And I told you that such sacrifices weren’t necessary,” Megatron reiterated, with perhaps a touch more firmness than was necessary. But by Adaptus could Hot Rod be stubborn.
The smol’s jaw set. His eyes narrowed.
Shockwave coughed softly. “I will appreciate Hot Rod’s assistance today and any other day,” he said, drawing Megatron’s attention back toward him. “The hatchlings, from what I’ve seen, seem to adore him.”
Probably because they were, on some level, of equal maturity.
Megatron rubbed his palm down his face. “Whichever makes you happy.” He waved a hand, dismissing the discussion. There were more important matters to debate then whether or not a harpy wanted a specific duty. “I’ll leave you to it then. I don’t wish to be in the way.”
“Or perhaps you want to make yourself scarce before they wake.” Shockwave grinned, his eye sparkling with humor. “I’ll see you later tonight, my liege.”
“I promise not to be late for once.” Megatron nodded to Hot Rod. “Speak with Soundwave. He’ll have a better assignment for you. I’ll ensure it.” He left no room for argument in his tone.
Hot Rod huffed and folded his arms, flame-colored feathers forming a sheild around his body. “Yes, my liege,” he bit out, though his feathers twitched with annoyance.
Megatron looked at him. He fought for something to say, and settled on nothing. Instead, he spun on a tarsal and took his leave. He pretended he did not feel the weight of Hot Rod’s gaze following him out.
It was a constant thing as of late, Hot Rod watching him, often from afar. He knew the smol’s attraction was not dissuaded by the lack of Megatron returning his interest. Which was, in a way, a lie.
Any other time, any other situation, any other life perhaps, Megatron would have gladly taken Hot Rod to nest. He simply couldn’t, in good conscience, do so now.
Megatron rubbed at his face with a sigh. Complications, he did not need them. Instead, he sought out a distraction.
There were many duties for a Liege in his aerie. Becoming familiar with his flock and their interests was one of the most important ones, in Megatron’s opinion. He had so few, under a hundred, that he knew them all personally.
Mid-morning was the daily training session for the guard, led by his fencemaster. Drift had been delighted that more were willing to study the art of swordplay, though most still preferred to rely on fangs and talons if it came down to a fight.
Barring that, Megatron could visit Perceptor in his laboratory, or see if he was getting along any better with Brainstorm. He needed to check in at the supply cavern and ensure they were not low on anything. He could also stand to hunt down Starscream and make sure he hadn’t caught ill after his evening spent in the rain.
Ruffling his feathers, Megatron headed for central column, preparing to glide down to the bottom floor. He might as well observe the training first. He could even learn a thing or two.
There was no rest for the liege of a flock. Fortunately, Megatron preferred it that way.
***
a/n: Currently anticipating 15 chapters for this bad boy. May climb up to 16 as I'm still working on the final bits. Stay tuned! ;)
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.
Starscream settled in as well as any others who had joined Megatron's flock. Newcomers were always anxious at first, afraid to rattle cages or break some unstated rule. Every other flock on Cybertron had their own ways, their own standards, but not Megatron's.
He only required they treat each other with respect and contribute to the flock in whatever meaningful manner they could. Anyone was allowed to mate with another, so long as it was consensual on both parts. Anyone could choose to learn a trade or skill, no matter if they were bara or smol.
Given what Soundwave had discovered of Starscream – a smol from Vos who had fled his flock because he despised his assigned partner – Megatron felt the newcomer would fit in well here. No one would force Starscream to mate, though there were already several interested baras circling Starscream's chosen nest, and Starscream would be free to pursue his scientific interests. The latter was also something Vos would not allow Starscream.
Smols were not meant to be learned. They were meant to mate, bear fledglings, and raise them. They were meant to manage nests and decorate the arms of their baras. They were meant to be quiet and soft-spoken and respectful.
Observing Starscream for a few mere hours only proved why he had not fit in among the Vos flock. Starscream was characteristically a bara, if not for his size and coloration. He was brash, dominant, and knew nothing of meekness. He was a leader, not a follower; a fighter, rather than a harpy of pacifism.
Megatron was confident Starscream would find a home here in Kaon. Even if he hadn’t gotten along well with Sunstorm. Neither friendship nor hatred had spawned between them, just a respectful distance.
Oh, well. At least, Starscream had made friends with others in the flock. He was not a harpy alone, which had been Megatron’s largest concern for the new arrival. Starscream was making himself at home, growing comfortable, and all was well.
Until a week after his arrival, Starscream abruptly disappeared, turning Megatron's flock upside down. Orion fretted and Sunstorm started muttering about human harpy traffickers and both refused to rest until Starscream was found.
Megatron arranged a search party. There were many volunteers, including Hot Rod. Small though the Kaon flock was, they were close knit. They looked after one another. They wouldn’t be able to survive otherwise.
Of the friendships Starscream had begun to cultivate, he’d built a unique one with Perceptor and Drift. It was Perceptor who suggested Starscream might have gone to visit the humans, especially given Starscream’s vocal fascination with them.
“So why don't you refrain from sweeping across the land like winged death and consider contacting Professor Shin first.” Perceptor tone was perfectly even, betraying none of the anxiety the rest of the flock seemed to harbor.
Perceptor's logic proved to be the winner.
It was a sheepish Starscream who returned to the aerie, damp from a late afternoon rainstorm, and chirping apologetically at Megatron, who greeted him with folded arms and a stern expression.
“I do not object to your curiosity with the humans,” Megatron said as Starscream stood in front of him, a properly contrite smol whose behavior smacked of his raising in Vos. It made Megatron ill to see it. “I only ask that you inform someone before you depart and your intended time of return. We are friendly with the university, but not all humans are as kind.”
“I understand.” Starscream's plumage drifted further down. “Thank you, my liege. I will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary.”
Megatron shook his head. “There is no punishment, Starscream. You are new and still learning our rules. Apologize and that will be enough. Along with a promise that in the future, you will keep us informed so that this doesn’t happen again.” One crisis a month was all Megatron could handle.
Surprise reflected in Starscream’s eyes, but he dipped his head again, another show of deference. “I promise, my liege.”
Megatron lifted the corners of his lips toward a smile and patted Starscream on the shoulder. “That is good to know. Now, avail yourself of the springs and get to nest before you catch sick. I understand you haven't met our chief physician yet?”
“No, my liege.”
Megatron chuckled. “Then be sure and do so tomorrow. He'll be in a much finer mood if you're not already ill when you come to him. Understand?”
Starscream nodded and eased out from under his hand, discomfort evident in the lay of his feathers. Megatron retracted his hand and made a mental note – traditional body language would not work with Starscream. Good to know.
“Yes, my liege. Have a good eve.” Starscream ducked his head in a show of respect and scuttled into the aerie proper, casting one last look over his shoulder.
It would have been amusing, if Starscream's behavior wasn't indicative of abuse. Megatron had heard stories of Vos. He held two other refugees from the Vosian flock. Their strict rules suited few harpies, but even fewer chose to risk their cores and leave.
In any case, with Starscream returned safe and sound, Orion could stop fretting and Megatron could return to his nest for much needed sleep. But not before he delivered a message to Perceptor, who had insisted he be informed the moment Starscream safely returned. He and Drift had… adopted, one could say, the newly joined smol.
Megatron suspected Perceptor was relieved to have an intellectual equal within the aerie. Despite living within sight-distance of a human university and despite the eclectic nature of Megatron's flock, he had few scientists and even fewer of those interested in human studies. There was Brainstorm, of course, but he and Perceptor did not get along.
More on Perceptor's end than Brainstorm's. The latter's blatant enthusiasm for all things explosive and his lack of interest in safety measures grated on Perceptor's patience. Brainstorm was one of the few harpies in Megatron’s flock who was officially banned from having direct contact with the humans and visiting Kaon University without a chaperone. The trouble he could get into was not worth it.
Perceptor and Drift lived on one of the highest platforms in the aerie. Years before Megatron’s arrival, Perceptor had been gifted a telescope by Professor Shin, and it was best placed at the highest elevation. Drift, also, had a preference for residing as far from the ground as possible.
That Brainstorm preferred to reside on the ground level might have also had something to do with their choice of nest location.
Presently, the mated pair had their door pulled open, welcoming all inside. The lightning balls that served as lanterns gave off a soft and inviting blue glow. The low murmur of conversation drifted out, reassuring Megatron that they weren't intimately occupied. Though Perceptor and Drift had often invited a voyeur or several, Megatron was not one who had taken them up on their offer.
He rapped his knuckles against the frame to announce his presence and stepped into the nest, as always, first taken by the lattice of branches which formed their ceiling. Drift had taken days to strip the leaves and weave the thin, supple twigs into a beautiful, geometric design. Little chains hung from the ceiling as well, cheap and colorful baubles dangling from the ends in random placement.
The ceiling resembled the night sky, if one knew how to look. The balcony might house their telescope, but from anywhere in the nest, they could peer upward and see an approximation of the sky.
The ceiling art had been Drift's claiming gift to Perceptor, though one had not been needed. Drift was determined to prove his devotion.
Perceptor and Drift were currently curled around each other in their nest, a construction of pillows and bamboo matting and woven willow-bark – all Drift's doing. He had the nimble fingers of an artisan, and while he was a smol, the almost dull nature of his coloring and the fact that he favored being a warrior, was what made him something of an outcast, and brought him here, to Megatron’s aerie.
Drift and Perceptor were twined together, a mix of gold-white-red feathers and crimson-black. Perceptor was the first to notice Megatron, and he nudged Drift out of a doze.
“No, don't get up,” Megatron said. He lifted a hand, his belly clenched with both jealousy and longing.
Like so many in his flock, Perceptor and Drift had a love story for the ages. Megatron couldn't deny he was envious of their connection. His nest would be forever empty and seeing happily mated pairs was a constant reminder of that.
Jealousy, however, did not become a Liege. So he swallowed it down.
“Starscream safely returned of his own accord,” Megatron informed them as Drift settled back into Perceptor's arms, purring a quiet song as Perceptor stroked his back. “Given the weather, I sent him to the springs, but perhaps he might benefit from some assistance.”
Drift chuckled, though he neither had his eyes open nor was he looking at Megatron. “Are you ordering us to groom him, sir?”
“Merely making a gentle suggestion. A nudge if you will.” Megatron let the corners of his mouth curve toward a smile. “It is evident to me Starscream could use as many friends as are willing to accept the role. And it seems to me that he is too used to berthing alone.”
Perceptor laughed. “I can think of one other who has the same problem.” He gave Megatron a pointed look.
“I don't know what you mean.” Megatron waved him off and turned back toward the door. “In any case, I've done my duty. Kindly refrain from calling me out in front of the flock in the morn.”
It happened so frequently, Megatron often wondered if he was less Liege of his flock, and more shepherd of a clowder of unruly cats. A fair percentage of his flock was outspoken, and had no compunctions about raising their voices to him.
“I make no promises.” Perceptor’s attention returned to Drift, and he nuzzled his mate’s forehead. “Come along, buttercup. I hear there is a scientist in need of grooming in the springs.”
Drift's back plumage raised and rustled. “Mmm. Are we getting a private pool?” His chest rumbled invitingly.
Time to go.
If they were going to flirt, it was Megatron's cue to leave. Sadly, they didn't notice his departure, even with him being kind enough to tug the tie keeping their curtain open. If they started rutting, Megatron didn't want someone wandering in on them without warning or invitation.
He stepped back into the main hallway and the still silence of a late evening. It was comforting to know his flock was settling down to sleep, cozy and safe.
Megatron ruffled his feathers and headed toward his own nest, though lonely and empty it might be. It was past time that he got some sleep of his own.
Megatron woke to bright slats of sunlight streaming across his eyes. He resisted the urge to pull a pillow over his face, as childish as it would be. After all, he had given Soundwave this task a long time ago.
His Speaker was not to blame for Megatron's own unwillingness to rise early.
“Appointment with Ratchet today,” Soundwave informed him as he stepped away from the window and the curtain he'd drawn. On his shoulder, Laserbeak twittered agreement. “Lateness not advised.”
“I remember,” Megatron grumbled. He hauled himself out of the twist of light blankets and pillows he called a nest and rose to his full height, stretching out his arms. It was starting to get warm as spring headed into summer, however, which meant he’d be discarding the blankets entirely soon.
“Anything happen I should know about?”
“Negative.” Soundwave slipped a talon under the edge of his mask, adjusting it and giving Megatron a brief glimpse of the scars striking across his jaw.
“Breakfast?”
Soundwave's plumage ruffled. “On the table.”
Megatron grinned. “I don't know what I'd do without you, Soundwave.” He snagged two oranges from the bowl of assorted fruits and nuts on the table – all his favorites and none of his dislikes. “And after Ratchet?”
“Promised visit to Cradle.”
Megatron tried not to tense as he peeled the orange, his talon easily slicing through the rind. “Yes, I remember now.” He loved the fledglings, honestly he did.
But they were also a painful reminder of what he could not have.
“Anything else?”
Soundwave shook his head and patted Laserbeak's crown. His smallest sibling purred as she knocked her head against his. “Liege's choice,” he said, with a hint of humor.
Megatron tilted his chin in acknowledgment. “Understood. Thank you, Soundwave.”
His Speaker dipped his head in a nod and took his leave. He had his own duties to attend, though he’d adopted waking Megatron as one of them. It was in Soundwave’s blood to be a caretaker. He’d taken on the task of raising his siblings – related and adopted – when no one else would.
Megatron finished off his breakfast, trying to ignore the niggle of disquiet in his belly. It had no true origin, just a sense of restlessness as of late. He chalked it up to his instincts, making their presence known again.
He should have mated years ago.
Stretching and fluffing his feathers, Megatron left his nest and headed for the medical center that his chief physician, a strong-willed bara named Ratchet, called his domain. Ratchet was unmated and divided his time between running the medical center and volunteering in the Cradle.
He was even older than Megatron. Why Ratchet had yet to take a mate, Megatron did not know. And it was not his place to ask. Unless Ratchet became visibly depressed or unhappy, his choices were his own to make.
Though if Ratchet continued to overwork himself, Megatron might force the healer into a sabbatical leave. There were others who could temporarily assume Ratchet's duties. Yes, Megatron's flock was small. But each and every member of it was important to him. He would not see anyone strain themselves.
Megatron stepped through the open doorway of the medical center and peered into the reception area. There was no one in sight, and all of the privacy curtains had been drawn.
So Ratchet had no patients. Could it be? Was the healer taking a moment to rest?
But, no. There he was, emerging from behind the thick curtain that separated his private nest from the medical center. Ratchet could not be convinced to nest elsewhere. Work was his life, he claimed. He needed nothing else.
As far as Megatron knew, he never even used the secondary door that opened to the hallway.
“There you are,” the old medic rasped as he swept a talon across his reddish plumage. He was a massive bara, only a little smaller than Megatron himself, and having seen Ratchet spar with the warriors, Megatron knew he could put up a suitable challenge, if he so desired. “Didn’t Soundwave wake you up in time?”
Megatron's inability to wake himself was something of a running joke amongst those he considered his command team. As chief healer, Ratchet was included in that group. As were Soundwave, Shockwave, and Orion.
“Our missing smol returned last night, making for a long evening.” Megatron rubbed at his forehead and eyed Ratchet. “Speaking of whom, I trust Starscream made his way in to see you?”
Ratchet waved him toward an examination hammock and snorted. “Of course not. But never you mind. I'll track him down myself.”
“I do not envy you that task.”
“You shouldn’t envy Starscream forcing me to do so.” Ratchet planted his hands on his hips, giving Megatron a quick once-over. “Well, any complaints I should know about before I get started? Aches? Pains? Unusual morning expulsions?”
Megatron blinked as he made himself comfortable. “I take it the last was a joke.”
“What? You don't recognize humor when you see it?” Ratchet smirked. My, he was in a fine mood this morning. Perhaps he'd finally taken Perceptor and Drift up on their offer. A little rutting could only help Ratchet’s often irascible temper.
“As near as I can tell, I am in perfect health,” Megatron said.
Ratchet circled around him. “Mm. I'll be the judge of that. You haven't rutted as long as I've known you, my liege. And that is not healthy.”
“Yes, but--”
“Ep-ep-ep. Don't give me the same tired excuses you always give me.” Ratchet paused behind Megatron and leaned down, examining his wing joints. “You know what my answer is gonna be.”
Megatron bit back a sigh and tried not to flinch as Ratchet's primary claw dug into his joint, just beneath a tight cluster of feathers. “I'll take your medical advice into consideration.”
“No, you won't.” Ratchet snorted and removed his talon, circling back around. “Just like the rest of the molters in here, you aren't going to listen to me until it's too late.”
Megatron's lip curled toward a smirk. “One could say the same about you, Ratchet. When was the last time your nest was occupied?”
“Two weeks ago, I'll have you know.” Ratchet grinned, and his eyes sparkled with a sharp humor. “One can rut without mating, you know.”
“I'm aware.”
“Sometimes, I'm not so sure.” Ratchet gave him a stern glare. “You're also not properly groomed. Am I going to have to tell Orion on you or will you be a good little fledgeling and ask for help?”
He gritted his teeth. “You do not have to report on me like a carrier I don’t need, medic. I will approach Orion and Shockwave on my own.” Or he would make a request of Soundwave, though it was always harder to catch his Speaker in a free moment. Wrangling five younger brothers was a job into itself.
“You had better. I'll be asking them in a week just to make sure,” Ratchet said.
There were times Megatron regretted appointing Ratchet as the chief physician for his flock. Ratchet was talented, intelligent, and his strength commanded respect. There were few baras as singularly powerful or intimidating, and he kept Megatron's flock in perfect health.
But his casual disrespect was aggravating on occasion.
It made Megatron wonder what had driven Ratchet to Kaon in the first place, and whether he was perhaps an ousted Liege of his own. Soundwave’s research had not turned up much in the way of information, save that Ratchet was from the Protihex flock, which came as no surprise. Most healers were born, raised, and educated in Protihex.
Megatron meant it, however. He did not care what had driven a harpy to the Kaon flock, so long as they weren't a danger.
Their secrets were their own to keep. Even if Ratchet was formerly a liege, it was no business of Megatron’s, unless Ratchet felt keen on sharing it. For now, Megatron would handle the disrespect the same way he handled everything else – with patience and dignity.
An hour of snarking later, Megatron was freed from the confines of Ratchet's territory, with yet another admonishment and recommendation. It wasn't healthy, Ratchet said. He needed to give in to his instincts before they took him over. Harpies weren't meant to be alone. They needed intimacy, even if it wasn't that of a mate.
Megatron had no family. The closest he considered were Orion and Soundwave, and both had their own nests to consider.
Lucky that he was Liege. He could consider the entire flock his family, and more often than not, that was enough to satisfy his instincts.
Until he visited the Cradle.
There were only six fledglings right now. There would be more, but Soundwave preferred to keep his siblings with him at all times. He was never seen without at least one hanging from his feathers.
The oldest of the current fledges was bright yellow and white. Sunspot was Sunstorm's, and as to who had sired the fledgling, Sunstorm would not admit. He had come to Kaon already heavy with egg and in desperate need of medical attention. He wouldn't even say which flock had been his home.
Megatron suspected that Sunstorm, like so many of the harpies in his flock, was running from both someone and something. Perhaps even the sire. There were many flocks like Vos who were strict with their smols, possessive even, and paid little attention to how their smols were treated by their bara mates. It would surprise Megatron very little if Sunstorm had escaped from an abusive mate.
Still, like all else, it did not matter. Sunstorm was an exceptional member of Megatron's flock. He was a fine addition. And he had risen to become their spiritual leader in short time – despite Megatron's own atheism.
Megatron would fight to protect him as would many other members of his flock.
Heatwave and Chase were the next eldest fledglings, brothers but not twins, with Heatwave a full year older than Chase. Bright red and blue respectively, they were Mirage and Tracks' fledglings, both of whom hailed from Crystal City. Mirage had come to Kaon to keep an eye on Orion as a favor to his mentor, but had opted to stay once he realized how much his mate flourished in Kaon.
Boulder was the next eldest, a bright green fledgling who could charm even the surliest of harpies in the flock. He was an orphan, left abandoned for reasons unknown, but he'd been adopted by Mirage and Tracks, and they considered him as blood. He was the friendliest youngling Megatron had ever met and could often be found snoozing in the lap of whomever was on duty.
He and Ratchet got along well. Something in Boulder's spirit seemed to tame Ratchet's grumpy core.
The youngest fledgling had only hatched just prior to his carrier’s arrival. He was a dark grey and red hatchling by the name of Skydive. He was quiet, patient, and right now, he was Megatron's favorite. His carrier was Whirl, another of Megatron’s guard and occasional artisan, and of the fledgling’s sire, Megatron did not know. Whirl often joked Skydive was the result of an immaculate conception.
There was sadness in the joke, however, and Whirl’s eyes often darkened if one knew how to look. His eyes – or eye rather – wasn’t the one of a harpy who’d gladly fled an abusive mate, but one who’d left because he’d had no other choice.
Such stories were also common in Kaon. While many came here seeking harbor, others came here because they had little choice. Foisted from their own flocks for the audacity of being different, Kaon was their only refuge. Megatron suspected Whirl’s arrival had something to do with the fact he’d been a carrying bara.
Shockwave was the caretaker on duty today. He usually only took one shift every couple of weeks, his research eating up the majority of his time. As Megatron arrived, he found the fledgelings were down for their midday nap, and Shockwave was curled on the observation hammock, nose buried in a book.
He smiled when he noticed Megatron, however, and marked his place, putting down what looked to be a fantasy novel of some kind. It was too small for his hands, which meant he had probably borrowed it from the humans. He and Perceptor, prior to Starscream's arrival, had the most contact with their non-feathered allies.
“Hello, Megatron.” Shockwave eased out of the hammock and pulled his arms into a long stretch, the scars along the limbs more obvious as he did so. “I hear Starscream returned last night.”
“And of his own accord,” Megatron replied with a smile. He peered over the small rail into the large cradle, where six fledglings curled together in a pool of colorful feathers. One could hardly tell where the first began and the last ended. “He was at the university.”
“So Perceptor was right?”
“Yes. And he intends to never let me forget either.”
Shockwave chuckled, though he kept it soft so as not to disturb the sleeping little ones. “That does sound like Percy. You read him the riot act?”
Megatron arched an eyebrow. “You think I'm that cruel? I only informed him of the rules.”
“You've a core of fluff, my liege,” Shockwave teased.
It was a miracle Shockwave had maintained his humor. If one were to look at him, they'd wonder why. A laboratory accident – one he admitted was his own fault – had taken an eye from him and left his face scarred. He was missing a couple fingers on his left hand and some of the feathers on his chest and wings had never grown back. Worse was that he’d lost his entire right wing from the elbow down.
He now used a prosthetic, one made for him by Perceptor working in concert with the humans at Kaon University. He’d had the prosthetic as long as Megatron had known him, and he could use it almost as nimbly as original limb. It enabled him to fly, albeit short distances.
Megatron made a noncommittal noise and leaned against the railing, looking down at the sleeping fledgelings. Heatwave twitched in his sleep and kicked Sunspot in the shoulder. The yellow fledgeling made a noise of disapproval and rolled over, cuddling closer to Skydive.
Shockwave leaned on the rail next to him. “Have you plans after supper?”
“Not that I'm aware of,” Megatron said as he shifted his gaze to the other bara. “Why?”
“Orion and I have something we wish to ask you.” Shockwave looked away, as though he were uncertain, though the only time Megatron had ever seen him less than confident was when he admitted he wished to ask Orion to mate with him and feared the answer.
Megatron managed a grin. “Well, Ratchet has been getting on to me about my scapulae.” He tilted his head. “Even exchange?”
Shockwave chuckled. “It is doctor's orders. I'm sure Orion will agree, too. He did mention you looked in need of a good grooming session.”
“He would notice.”
“Mm.”
The light click of footsteps announced the arrival of another harpy. Megatron and Shockwave both looked up to find Hot Rod easing his way into the nap room, first peering around the corner and then inching inside.
Ah. Megatron did remember Hot Rod mentioning he'd been given a few shifts in the Cradle. Megatron was supposed to have spoken to Soundwave about that. Hot Rod wasn't a terrible caretaker, but it was still not a task that suited him.
“Am I interrupting?” Hot Rod asked, wise enough to keep his voice low. There was a tangible droop to his feathers this morning, as though he’d lost some of the energy he usually carried in abundance.
Shockwave shook his head, feathers rustling. “Not at all. Our liege was just stopping by for his weekly visit.”
“An ill-timed one, apparently.” Megatron straightened. “I happened to catch the bitlets during their afternoon nap and not even I’m brave enough to interrupt that.”
Hot Rod chuckled quietly. “How wise of you.” He moved closer, peering into the cradle. “They look so peaceful.”
“For now. It is all a lie, however, for when they wake, they will continue to be tyrants.” Shockwave lightly rapped the pads of his fingers on the railing. “Are you here to assist me, Hot Rod?”
Hot Rod beamed, some of the glow returning to his face. “Yep. I’m assigned to the Cradle for the rest of the week.”
“An assignment I intend to have changed for the next cycle,” Megatron said. He folded his arms over his chest, refusing to look into the basket like a lovelorn carrier. “I’m sure we have other tasks that are better suited for you.”
Hot Rod’s face colored. His smile wiped away. “I told you, I’m happy to help wherever I’m needed.”
“And I told you that such sacrifices weren’t necessary,” Megatron reiterated, with perhaps a touch more firmness than was necessary. But by Adaptus could Hot Rod be stubborn.
The smol’s jaw set. His eyes narrowed.
Shockwave coughed softly. “I will appreciate Hot Rod’s assistance today and any other day,” he said, drawing Megatron’s attention back toward him. “The hatchlings, from what I’ve seen, seem to adore him.”
Probably because they were, on some level, of equal maturity.
Megatron rubbed his palm down his face. “Whichever makes you happy.” He waved a hand, dismissing the discussion. There were more important matters to debate then whether or not a harpy wanted a specific duty. “I’ll leave you to it then. I don’t wish to be in the way.”
“Or perhaps you want to make yourself scarce before they wake.” Shockwave grinned, his eye sparkling with humor. “I’ll see you later tonight, my liege.”
“I promise not to be late for once.” Megatron nodded to Hot Rod. “Speak with Soundwave. He’ll have a better assignment for you. I’ll ensure it.” He left no room for argument in his tone.
Hot Rod huffed and folded his arms, flame-colored feathers forming a sheild around his body. “Yes, my liege,” he bit out, though his feathers twitched with annoyance.
Megatron looked at him. He fought for something to say, and settled on nothing. Instead, he spun on a tarsal and took his leave. He pretended he did not feel the weight of Hot Rod’s gaze following him out.
It was a constant thing as of late, Hot Rod watching him, often from afar. He knew the smol’s attraction was not dissuaded by the lack of Megatron returning his interest. Which was, in a way, a lie.
Any other time, any other situation, any other life perhaps, Megatron would have gladly taken Hot Rod to nest. He simply couldn’t, in good conscience, do so now.
Megatron rubbed at his face with a sigh. Complications, he did not need them. Instead, he sought out a distraction.
There were many duties for a Liege in his aerie. Becoming familiar with his flock and their interests was one of the most important ones, in Megatron’s opinion. He had so few, under a hundred, that he knew them all personally.
Mid-morning was the daily training session for the guard, led by his fencemaster. Drift had been delighted that more were willing to study the art of swordplay, though most still preferred to rely on fangs and talons if it came down to a fight.
Barring that, Megatron could visit Perceptor in his laboratory, or see if he was getting along any better with Brainstorm. He needed to check in at the supply cavern and ensure they were not low on anything. He could also stand to hunt down Starscream and make sure he hadn’t caught ill after his evening spent in the rain.
Ruffling his feathers, Megatron headed for central column, preparing to glide down to the bottom floor. He might as well observe the training first. He could even learn a thing or two.
There was no rest for the liege of a flock. Fortunately, Megatron preferred it that way.
a/n: Currently anticipating 15 chapters for this bad boy. May climb up to 16 as I'm still working on the final bits. Stay tuned! ;)
