Chapter Text
The crowd cheering upon his return from the surface is something he can never grow tired of. He is the hero, the last of the Primes to survive the Quintesson invasion, the creator of revolution and the one who made Iacon foster. Sentinel Prime. A beloved war hero. He took great care in upholding his image. His blue and gold armor polished until it shines under the warm light, his stance regal and confident as his voice booms to greet his citizens.
Slowly, the fanfare of his return retreats as the moon greets him in his spacious berth. His mood soured as he let his mask slip. How foolish of them, he snickered quietly before walking into the washrack to indulge himself in the highest quality solvent. Like lambs following a wolf in sheep's clothing. Then again, they were terrified when the news of the Primes fall to the Quintessons had reached their audials and when he came out victorious, they readily latched onto him.
A small sigh escapes his intake as his entire frame relaxed, letting the solvent wash all of the dust and grime. Speaking of the Quintessons, their demand for energon is increasing. What use they have for the energon , he does not know nor does he care. As long as he has the power to rule Cybertron, he’ll give in to their little demand. Maybe increasing the quotas for the miners would help boost production. It was a small thought, but it will be done.
A few kliks went by before he reemerged, a quick glance at his chronometer showed it was still in the early breems of the night. No matter, he can always enjoy some light literature from the vast archive. With a simple hooded cape along with a pair of correctional glasses, his identity as Sentinel Prime was cloaked well enough with the aid of the shadows casted during the night. Waving a servo, the lights in his berthroom dimmed and with featherlight steps, he headed towards the archive.
Primus seemed to favor him indeed, with how scarce mechs were inside the library. Believing his chances of being discovered improbable, his entire frame relaxed. He didn’t even know when he had become tensed. The librarian merely offered a small nod, acknowledging his presence as Sentinel continued moving towards the tall shelves.
Fictions, histories, scientific datapads, politics, even fantasies. The archive contains infinite knowledge, knowledge that can be wielded against him. No matter, it would not take long to lock these datapads once his other businesses were settled. He couldn’t help smirking a little as he skimmed through the titles until a small mech collided right into his chassis.
Who dares touch THE Sentinel Prime-?
His anger boiled inside of him and as soon as he opened his mouth, a small chime of laughter greeted him, small servos grasped tightly on his own as his optics meet joyous blues.
Joy.. How long has it been seen he saw a gaze not marred with worship and respect? Usually, if a mech dares not look at him as if he were a god, he would feel anger swell but this, such a vibrant blue, made his spark flutter.
“C'mon mister! You can't stay here for long before-”
“ORION”
The shout echoed throughout the archive as optics look at the scene in fond exaggeration. It seems it isn’t the first time this bot had created trouble. Orion yelped in surprise, glancing and locking eyes with the librarian. A very furious librarian. He knew, he may as well be staring at Unicorn himself. For a small-statured mech, his grip was strong enough to drag the tall mech towards the exit. He didn’t know why he was letting this red and blue mech pull him around but he didn’t seem to mind, his long legs easily catching up to Orion’s jog with his strides.
“What exactly did you do, Orion?” He couldn't hide amusement dancing in his optics as the named mech darted about.
“Don't worry about it! Just run, mister!”
It was exhilarating, being this carefree for once without an ounce of urgency. No masks, no façade. Just pure joy running away from a harmless librarian. All of this because of a certain ‘Orion' causing mischief. It was something he didn't expect to even happen in his little errand for a quick read.
When was the last time he had this amount of fun?
… It certainly wasn't when he stabbed the Primes at their back struts.
It felt like they had been on the run for breems when it was only for a few kliks when the angry shouts felt further away. Both mechs turned turned into a slight jog, with Orion letting out a small chuckle. “Sorry to drag you into this mister…?” It had only occurred to Orion that he never asked the other's designation. His glossa felt like it was filled with lead. Sentinel was a name that was known throughout Cybertron. The last of the Primes, the most reliable, and the savior of Cybertron.
Liar. You killed the others. You made a deal with your worst enemies for power.
“… Bulwark. My designation is Bulwark.”
A wall that safeguards. He wondered, who was he trying to protect, this new mech he met in the archive or himself?
You. A small part of him whispered, you don't want this mech who looked up at you in joy know what your true plating is.
Maybe the small voice had some truth in it. Once more, he wants to be selfish. He wants this bright mech to only see him, not "Sentinel". But it was worth it when he was graced by a soft smile from the red and blue mech.
“Well, you already know what mine is. It's Orion Pax. A pleasure meeting you Mister Bulwark!”
“The pleasure is all mine, Orion” He couldn't help returning the small smile. So genuine in this bleak world of his. “What were you doing in the archives to make the librarian furious with you?” Bulwark asked curiously.
Now he couldn't hide his amusement dancing in his optics when Orion's cheekplates dusted in red from embarrassment. By then, the two of them had found themselves in a nearby park. The cool breeze felt nice on his plating and helped cool down the furious blush graced on the red and blue mech.
“I was climbing the shelves.. Wasn't my fault they put the most interesting pieces of history at the topmost shelves!” Orion defended, his lips jutting out in a pout.
Well, that certain wasn't an answer he had expected at all.
“You are aware that you are welcome to ask for assistance, or use the available ladder”
“Nah, too slow”
“If only you weren't short,” he teased.
“HEY”
He winced slightly when a servo clanked against his shoulder, “Oh, now we're resorting to violence, Pax?” It was fun teasing this little mech. To be so carefree for once without any deceptions.
“I was assaulted first by your words. I'm hurt,” Orion retorted.
This.. was nice. Despite the disguise, he never felt so free. He was not Sentinel Prime with this miner. He was merely ‘Mister Bulwark’. No burden, no eyes watching his every step, and no facade to put up. Just him and Orion Pax with his endless chatter. His cold spark slowly started to warm. Is this what is called 'fondness'? Had he ever felt this sort of feeling? He couldn’t remember.
It lulled him into a sense of security as he watched the smaller mech gestured widely, retelling his tales. He didn't pay attention, his gaze focusing to those carefree smiles and crinkling optics. The mech in front of him was gorgeous, as if sculpted by Primus himself.
Maybe he was.
“I think I need to head out. Dee would be worried about me”
That snapped him out from his daydreaming. “Oh? Who is he?” It wasn't hard for him to control his voice to make it sound light, especially when he saw the lightly flushed faceplate. “He's my bestest friend! He was supposed to come along today but he decided to take extra shifts”
“Then he's not a very good friend”
That earned him a fond chuckle. Sentinel didn't like it, he didn't like how the mech in front of him grew distant. Deep down he knew, Orion was thinking of his best friend, or should he say crush with how uncharacteristically shy he was acting.
“You wouldn't believe half of what Dee has done for me… Sometimes I wonder if he does want me as a friend… Anyway! Thanks for keeping me company, Mister Bulwark! I hope we get to see each other again!”
It won't be the last time Sentinel see him. He made sure of it.