[TF] Safety in Numbers
Sep. 16th, 2021 07:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Title: Safety in Numbers
Universe: The Prime’s Consorts, Consortium
Characters: Prowl, Bluestreak
Rating: K+
Description: Prowl finally calls Bluestreak to reassure him, and ensure his brother will be safe.
Optimus Prime has many fine qualities that Prowl finds appealing. It is why he has earned Prowl’s trust. He does not, however, have the talent for foresight. Which is why Prowl is the first to remind him of the danger he has not only put himself in, but his Consorts and their extended family.
Optimus is not a Prime willing to fall in line with the Senate’s intentions for him. If he was, Prowl would not have bonded him so readily.
Eventually, the powers-that-be will realize Optimus Prime is not going to be their ally or their figurehead. It will start small, moments of friction, until Optimus finally stands firm and denies their machinations.
Once the Senate understands Optimus is not keen to bow to their whims, they will seek to hobble him. Or worse, find leverage they can use against him. The Consorts are meant to be Optimus’ support, but it doesn’t escape Prowl’s notice that they are also a fine bit of leverage to those clever enough to use them.
The Senate is also not the only threat to their safety. There will be many organizations attempting to move against the Prime in the coming decades and centuries, especially once it becomes clear that Optimus is a Prime of a different caliber.
Optimus Prime has a certain degree of protection being that he is the Prime. His Consorts are afforded a similar safety by that connection.
Their families however…
“You are absolutely right,” Optimus says after Prowl points out what should have been obvious, and Optimus frowns, not at Prowl but at himself. “I should have thought of this sooner.”
“Chromia is already here,” Prowl says. “I understand you are already making plans to reunite Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, but there are more to consider. My brother, for example.”
Optimus nods, elbows on his desk, fingers interlaced. “What would you have of me to keep him safe?”
Prowl draws in a heavy ventilation. He’s spent many long hours thinking of what might be best and safest for Bluestreak. This is the best solution he could devise. Provided, of course, Bluestreak agrees. He trusts his younger brother will see reason.
“I would like for him to be here with me, if he’ll come,” Prowl says. “I did not leave many friends behind in Praxus, and my enemies thought sending me to you would solve their problems. Once they learn it didn’t..”
“You’ll have too many enemies to name,” Optimus finishes for him. He watches Prowl over the top of his hands. “This estate has plenty of space, but if your brother chooses otherwise, I’ll ask Chromia to arrange trustworthy protection.”
Relief warms the ice in Prowl’s lines. “Thank you, Optimus. I’ll speak with Bluestreak and let you know what we decide.”
Prowl returns to his quarters after the evening meal, a tradition they unilaterally decided to uphold despite their return from the engagement manor. It has become the perfect opportunity to air grievances, discuss matters of import, and if necessary, decide who might grace Optimus’ berth that evening, if someone is interested.
Prowl has not, and will never, put his designation in the queue, but he doesn’t judge those who seek out Optimus’ intimate company. If Optimus’ interfacing skills are anything like the care he’d exhibited during the spark merge, than Prowl has no doubt Optimus is a generous lover in all ways.
That, however, is neither here nor there.
Prowl’s quarters are his own, rarely visited by the others save Sunstreaker from time to time, and they are more than large enough to house Bluestreak if his brother so chooses. There is a general console in the main room, and a smaller, private one in Prowl’s office. He chooses the latter, closing the door for added privacy and dials a comm uniquely familiar to him.
They have been back in Iacon for forty-eight hours, but this is the soonest Prowl could contact his brother to reassure him.
Bluestreak answers so swiftly he must have been waiting by the comm. “Prowl!” His face fills the screen, relief palpable in his expression. “How are you? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did he hurt you? Are you safe? You look okay, but--”
“I am fine, Bluestreak,” Prowl says, gently cutting through the babble. “Much better than either of us could have hoped.”
Bluestreak squints at him, studying his face in the screen, but he must find whatever it is he’s looking for because he nods. “And you’re not being forced to say this, right?”
Amusement threatens to tug at Prowl’s spark. “I am not,” he reassures. “I will be happy to tell you more details, but I don’t wish to do so over a comm.”
“A letter?” Bluestreak asks, his sensory panels starting to drift down into rest. His armor, however, remains defensive. Agitated.
Has something happened already?
Prowl shakes his head. “No. In person.”
“You’re coming here?” Bluestreak asks, and his optics light up, a smile splitting his face. “The Prime is going to let you visit?” His sensory panels bob.
Prowl doesn’t bother to fight his own smile. “How are classes?” he asks instead.
Bluestreak flinches, barely perceptible, and his smile wavers. “I passed,” he says with a shrug. “I didn’t score as high as I wanted to, but I passed. I guess that’s what counts.” He tilts his head and squints. “You didn’t answer my question though.”
“No, I did not,” Prowl confirms. He cycles a ventilation and crosses his arms. “Optimus Prime means to make things very difficult in the political arena, Bluestreak. He will soon have enemies all across the planet.”
“Oh.” Bluestreak works his jaw and realization dawns on his face. “You don’t think I’m safe here?”
“Right now, yes. In the future… probably not.”
Bluestreak gnaws on his bottom lip and raps his fingers on the top of the console. “So what does that mean? Do I have to go into hiding or something?”
“Or something,” Prowl echoes, which is enough to prompt Bluestreak to snort a laugh. He is always amused when Prowl dips briefly into informality. “I would prefer if you came here.”
Bleustreak stares at him. “Wait. You want me to live in Iacon?”
“Specifically here at the estate with me,” Prowl says. “I can arrange for you to have private tutors, or you can enroll in one of the universities here, but I would feel better if you were here--”
“Yes,” Bluestreak says.
Prowl pauses. He’d expected some hesitation, perhaps the two of them discussing the pros and cons. Bluestreak had made no secret of his desire to graduate from the same program where Prowl had earned his certifications. While something similar could be found in Iacon, it was not Bluestreak’s initial plan.
“When can I come?” Bluestreak asks.
“Are you sure?” Worry starts to infest Prowl’s spark.
Something must have happened.
Bluestreak smiles at him again, but it’s not as bright as it ought to be. “Positive. It’s not like I’m leaving anything behind, and well, I can learn what I want to learn pretty much anywhere, right?”
“Right,” Prowl echoes.
Now is not the time to pry into his brother’s behavior or what might have occurred in Prowl’s absence, though he has his suspicions. Prowl has made many enemies in Praxus, and not all respect the position of Consort.
“When can I come?” Bluestreak asks. “I’ll be ready. I promise. I’m going to start packing as soon as we get off the comm.”
At least Prowl doesn’t have to fight for this.
“I’ll make the arrangements,” he says, and offers his brother a reassuring smile. “I have much to tell you, but I’ll save it until you get here.”
Bluestreak beams. “I can’t wait.”
***
Universe: The Prime’s Consorts, Consortium
Characters: Prowl, Bluestreak
Rating: K+
Description: Prowl finally calls Bluestreak to reassure him, and ensure his brother will be safe.
Optimus Prime has many fine qualities that Prowl finds appealing. It is why he has earned Prowl’s trust. He does not, however, have the talent for foresight. Which is why Prowl is the first to remind him of the danger he has not only put himself in, but his Consorts and their extended family.
Optimus is not a Prime willing to fall in line with the Senate’s intentions for him. If he was, Prowl would not have bonded him so readily.
Eventually, the powers-that-be will realize Optimus Prime is not going to be their ally or their figurehead. It will start small, moments of friction, until Optimus finally stands firm and denies their machinations.
Once the Senate understands Optimus is not keen to bow to their whims, they will seek to hobble him. Or worse, find leverage they can use against him. The Consorts are meant to be Optimus’ support, but it doesn’t escape Prowl’s notice that they are also a fine bit of leverage to those clever enough to use them.
The Senate is also not the only threat to their safety. There will be many organizations attempting to move against the Prime in the coming decades and centuries, especially once it becomes clear that Optimus is a Prime of a different caliber.
Optimus Prime has a certain degree of protection being that he is the Prime. His Consorts are afforded a similar safety by that connection.
Their families however…
“You are absolutely right,” Optimus says after Prowl points out what should have been obvious, and Optimus frowns, not at Prowl but at himself. “I should have thought of this sooner.”
“Chromia is already here,” Prowl says. “I understand you are already making plans to reunite Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, but there are more to consider. My brother, for example.”
Optimus nods, elbows on his desk, fingers interlaced. “What would you have of me to keep him safe?”
Prowl draws in a heavy ventilation. He’s spent many long hours thinking of what might be best and safest for Bluestreak. This is the best solution he could devise. Provided, of course, Bluestreak agrees. He trusts his younger brother will see reason.
“I would like for him to be here with me, if he’ll come,” Prowl says. “I did not leave many friends behind in Praxus, and my enemies thought sending me to you would solve their problems. Once they learn it didn’t..”
“You’ll have too many enemies to name,” Optimus finishes for him. He watches Prowl over the top of his hands. “This estate has plenty of space, but if your brother chooses otherwise, I’ll ask Chromia to arrange trustworthy protection.”
Relief warms the ice in Prowl’s lines. “Thank you, Optimus. I’ll speak with Bluestreak and let you know what we decide.”
Prowl returns to his quarters after the evening meal, a tradition they unilaterally decided to uphold despite their return from the engagement manor. It has become the perfect opportunity to air grievances, discuss matters of import, and if necessary, decide who might grace Optimus’ berth that evening, if someone is interested.
Prowl has not, and will never, put his designation in the queue, but he doesn’t judge those who seek out Optimus’ intimate company. If Optimus’ interfacing skills are anything like the care he’d exhibited during the spark merge, than Prowl has no doubt Optimus is a generous lover in all ways.
That, however, is neither here nor there.
Prowl’s quarters are his own, rarely visited by the others save Sunstreaker from time to time, and they are more than large enough to house Bluestreak if his brother so chooses. There is a general console in the main room, and a smaller, private one in Prowl’s office. He chooses the latter, closing the door for added privacy and dials a comm uniquely familiar to him.
They have been back in Iacon for forty-eight hours, but this is the soonest Prowl could contact his brother to reassure him.
Bluestreak answers so swiftly he must have been waiting by the comm. “Prowl!” His face fills the screen, relief palpable in his expression. “How are you? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did he hurt you? Are you safe? You look okay, but--”
“I am fine, Bluestreak,” Prowl says, gently cutting through the babble. “Much better than either of us could have hoped.”
Bluestreak squints at him, studying his face in the screen, but he must find whatever it is he’s looking for because he nods. “And you’re not being forced to say this, right?”
Amusement threatens to tug at Prowl’s spark. “I am not,” he reassures. “I will be happy to tell you more details, but I don’t wish to do so over a comm.”
“A letter?” Bluestreak asks, his sensory panels starting to drift down into rest. His armor, however, remains defensive. Agitated.
Has something happened already?
Prowl shakes his head. “No. In person.”
“You’re coming here?” Bluestreak asks, and his optics light up, a smile splitting his face. “The Prime is going to let you visit?” His sensory panels bob.
Prowl doesn’t bother to fight his own smile. “How are classes?” he asks instead.
Bluestreak flinches, barely perceptible, and his smile wavers. “I passed,” he says with a shrug. “I didn’t score as high as I wanted to, but I passed. I guess that’s what counts.” He tilts his head and squints. “You didn’t answer my question though.”
“No, I did not,” Prowl confirms. He cycles a ventilation and crosses his arms. “Optimus Prime means to make things very difficult in the political arena, Bluestreak. He will soon have enemies all across the planet.”
“Oh.” Bluestreak works his jaw and realization dawns on his face. “You don’t think I’m safe here?”
“Right now, yes. In the future… probably not.”
Bluestreak gnaws on his bottom lip and raps his fingers on the top of the console. “So what does that mean? Do I have to go into hiding or something?”
“Or something,” Prowl echoes, which is enough to prompt Bluestreak to snort a laugh. He is always amused when Prowl dips briefly into informality. “I would prefer if you came here.”
Bleustreak stares at him. “Wait. You want me to live in Iacon?”
“Specifically here at the estate with me,” Prowl says. “I can arrange for you to have private tutors, or you can enroll in one of the universities here, but I would feel better if you were here--”
“Yes,” Bluestreak says.
Prowl pauses. He’d expected some hesitation, perhaps the two of them discussing the pros and cons. Bluestreak had made no secret of his desire to graduate from the same program where Prowl had earned his certifications. While something similar could be found in Iacon, it was not Bluestreak’s initial plan.
“When can I come?” Bluestreak asks.
“Are you sure?” Worry starts to infest Prowl’s spark.
Something must have happened.
Bluestreak smiles at him again, but it’s not as bright as it ought to be. “Positive. It’s not like I’m leaving anything behind, and well, I can learn what I want to learn pretty much anywhere, right?”
“Right,” Prowl echoes.
Now is not the time to pry into his brother’s behavior or what might have occurred in Prowl’s absence, though he has his suspicions. Prowl has made many enemies in Praxus, and not all respect the position of Consort.
“When can I come?” Bluestreak asks. “I’ll be ready. I promise. I’m going to start packing as soon as we get off the comm.”
At least Prowl doesn’t have to fight for this.
“I’ll make the arrangements,” he says, and offers his brother a reassuring smile. “I have much to tell you, but I’ll save it until you get here.”
Bluestreak beams. “I can’t wait.”
