Relentless Optimism

[heliopauseentertainments]

Part of MegOp Week 2024

Prompt - Day 2: Secret/Sacred

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: General

Relationships: Megatron/Orion Pax

Characters: Megatron, Orion Pax

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, AU of an AU, Xenoreligion, Weddings

Summary: In which Orion proudly takes up the mantle of Lord Protector.

Precursor and canonical to An Unfamiliar Battlefield, but can be read alone.

Crossposting: AO3 | Tumblr

Fic under cut. See AO3 for complete notes.

The music in the sanctuary wasn’t joyous, but rather somber, not unlike attending a funeral or a public execution. The notes were slow and low, occasionally undercut by a gentle drum beat. A very strange choice for a wedding, in Orion’s opinion.

He waited in an antechamber, the priests—all current or former military officers—polishing and perfuming his armor, not unlike preparing a body for the smelter.

Cameras watched in the corners of the room.

This ought to have been a happy occasion, but the high priest, unfortunately named Valve, had insisted that it was the traditional atmosphere for this particular temple. While being the Lord Protector of a Prime, any Prime, was an honor, ascension for the Fallen was a punishment.

Orion would likely die and it would likely be at the Fallen’s hands, as Valve had reminded him that morning. This would be his first funeral and the start of his sacred duty to tether a monster.

“Purported monster,” Orion silently reminded himself. His spark spun dizzyingly in his chest, but not from fear.

The last vessel of the Fallen had slain his lover, but this was different person now. They weren’t reincarnations, not like the other Primes.

The dirge continued to play outside. It was beautiful, even if tonally dissonant.

No guests had been invited. Only the priests, the jailers, were present to witness the formalizing of the union. He had never wanted a big wedding anyway; too much hullabaloo.

Orion had met Megatron before, briefly. A long time ago, when Megatron had been briefly in custody for alleged involvement in a bar fight. Orion had been the one to authorize his release.

He doubted Megatron remembered him. If he did, he likely only remembered Orion as the police captain that had taken mercy on him. At least they weren’t complete strangers.

Back then, Orion had read some of his writings, found them intriguing, but had failed to keep in touch like he had planned to and then Megatron had disappeared. After the miner’s riot and a report of a stolen transport, his whereabouts were unknown. Orion had always wondered what had become of him… until the news announced the installation of a new incarnation of the Fallen.

And there on the screen… the mild-mannered mech whose friendship Orion had sorely regretted missing out on. How he had gotten here, however, Orion couldn’t begin to imagine.

On impulse, Orion had applied for the open role of Lord Protector. He had long-since become discontent with his work in Rodion, like the holding cells were merely revolving doors. At least he could undo one regret.

The priests packed away their supplies and led him out into the dark sanctuary. It was lit only by small lamps, the thin blue beams of targeting lasers, and a powerful searchlight trained on a gray figure in the center of the room, standing next to Valve in his regalia, a shawl and robe—black save for purple geometric embroidery.

Megatron had also been polished for the occasion, but his wrists were bound in cuffs. Orion wasn’t sure if those were ceremonial or if they truly believed there was a risk.

Orion could hardly imagine Megatron hurting anyone, let alone doing anything to earn a place here . They could talk soon….

This looked far more like an execution than a wedding, though they were missing a headsman.

Spark spinning wildly in his chest, Orion was made to stop next to Megatron.

Megatron glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes but said nothing. Perhaps it was too much to expect that the excitement was mutual.

Valve began to recite the liturgy in one of the old tongues that Orion didn’t recognize, holding something small and shining high over his head. A key maybe, perhaps to the cuffs. Orion had never been religious enough to bother learning the liturgical languages, but the sounds were familiar, comforting rhythms, even if the meaning was lost on him.

Unfortunately, ever since Orion had arrived and won his place by challenging Megatron to single, unarmed combat—Valve had, regrettably, forbidden it—he had hardly had a chance to see or talk with Megatron. Months of combat training, refreshing the skills he already had and adding some new, had taken the place of any sort of courtship.

No more though, no more would he be prevented from rekindling their acquaintance and… maybe… hopefully more. Not after today, not after it was all official.

Valve instructed him to hold out his hands.

The item Valve had presumably blessed was placed in Orion’s palm, a lightweight metallic object. Cool to the touch.

A key.

“Repeat after me,” Valve ordered.

The words that followed formed a vow, but a very strange vow, one Orion could never have imagined.

Nodding, he turned and cautiously took hold of one of Megatron’s bound wrists.

“By removing these restraints,” he said, the words heavy in his mouth, “I take their place.”

The cuffs fell to the floor with an echoing thud as Orion clasped their now free hands together.

He had failed to help Megatron before; he would not fail again.