Chapter Text
The effects of war were a long lasting and painful reminder of the sins committed by those who came long before any of them were forged. A corrupt Council harmed all of them. Regardless of caste, each and every mech involved in the war suffered to a degree before its start. Megatron and his lik were low caste, treated like scum, and many died in droves. Orion and his people were the middle-caste workers, neither loved nor hated, but constrained by social coding and mountains of red tape so high they could make Ultra Magnus cringe. All of it cumulated, anger from every generation previous burning brightly in their sparks.
Conflicts of ages long gone, embedded in the minds of mecha who were all tired of the meaningless slaughter. Perhaps there was a reason behind the madness in the beginning, but it was so far back in the records that few, save for the most dedicated, remembered the purpose of anything. They were tired, sick, and tired of foolish and wasteful war. It didn’t matter what side of the war a bot was on, almost everyone was exhausted, fed up beyond reason with the whole affair.
The time for peace had come. If Autobot and Decepticon could not come to an agreement, mecha would begin defecting and the war would turn into a never ending fist fight. Something had to be done while organization remained, and thus, attempts were made to make things right.
Neither Autobots nor Decepticons were initially very keen on attempting to mend the rifts formed by so many vorns slaughtering one another over tainted ideals. However, with Cybertron finally coming back together and its people returning, the call for peace was inevitable. As newsparks came from the Well in greater numbers, efforts to solidify a pact between Autobots and Decepticons increased exponentially.
What began as tense calls over the console turned into meetings in person where both sides clutched weapons like they were their lifelines. As cities were rebuilt and both factions claimed half the planet as their territory, those in-person meetings evolved into less militaristic diplomatic conversations between leaders and representatives. Optimus was fond of those meetings. When they weren’t trying to murder each other, Optimus was reminded of just why he’d become so involved with Megatron in the first place. They were both young and dumb back before everything fell to pieces, and obviously both had matured. But Megatron retained his poetic and political nature.
Optimus didn’t know if it was possible, but he wanted to try and repair things between them, if only for the alliance’s sake. He would have to be careful, but that was more than acceptable.
Naturally, Optimus was not going to be the first to break the fragile peace established through careful emissary and diplomatic efforts by being rude to those hosting him during a peace conference. Many of the talks had been held on neutral territory and he had no desire to throw their good reputation amongs the Decepticons to the wind. He couldn't afford to risk war, especially not when the conference was to be held in the Decepticon capital. Ignoring the legitimate concerns that acting in their capital was likely to kill him and his team if he was foolish enough to bring about war, he was being offered increadible trust by being allowed into Decepticon territory at all. The last thing Optimus had on his mind was ruining everything with a poorly timed comment due to lack of social awareness.
For all their semi-amicable conversation over the last few vorns, he and Megatron were not exactly on the best terms, at least since the last time Optimus checked. A few millennia of war were bound to create such an effect, and their interactions were only made more uncomfortable whenever they met on neutral grounds to discuss terms and agreements. They were not friends, but they were certainly no longer outright foes. Surely there would be no harm in ensuring his natural tendency to stiffen up around his former foe caused no harm?
Optimus was no master in the rituals of warframes, but they were gifted in the art of combat. An offering dedicated to their skills seemed like it would be polite, especially if the gift in question was quite clearly meant as a symbol rather than an actual weapon to be wielded. He did dig through a few ancient records regarding warframes and dead practices just to check and make sure he wasn’t about to frag things up royally. But not seeing anything incriminating about his weapon inspired gift and without any other solid ideas for what to bring to the meeting, Optimus met with a master smith and had a blade forged.
"So... a symbolic blade with both Autobot and Decepticon insignias?" The smith asked as he looked over the design Optimus had sketched out. His design was fairly simple, and while not a great artist, Optimus hoped he’d gotten his point across. He wanted a slim blade, almost like the katannas he’d seen on Earth centuries ago. But knowing Megatron, his former foe would want something with a bit more flare, so Optimus opted to include a few additional glowing metallic implants into his design. If the smith could manage it, the blade would glow faintly after cutting through a foe due to the energon activating the metals within.
He thought it was fitting. Not too glamorous, but also useful. The Autobot and Decepticon logos he wanted embedded into each side of the blade only added to the simplistic beauty of it in his opinion. But then again, he wasn’t exactly a sword master. He generally preferred his axe or blasters.
"That would be correct. I would prefer if it included the sleek design preferred by Autobot troops alongside the flare used in Decepticon weaponry." The smith raised and optical ridge as he met Optimus's gaze, a sort of judgmental undertone to his expression that had the Prime almost wanting to fidget. Was his design that bad?
"Who is the lucky Con then? Must be someone important if you are taking this to that meeting up at the Decepticon capital." Confusion ran rampant in Optimus's processors as he noted the hint of something sly in the smith's voice. It didn’t seem malicious, but rather, intriguing. However, after a moment of consideration, he spoke plainly. After all, there was nothing wrong with giving a gift as a sign of diplomacy.
"I intend to give this to Megatron as thanks for hosting us at the upcoming summit. He has been nothing but courteous since the peace talks began," A snort escaped the smith's vocalizer before he shook his helm and collected the drawing. Optimus could almost feel the question marks floating above his helm as he gawked, watching the smith chuckle to himself like he’d just heard the best joke of the century.
"Good luck with that, then! If anyone can tame the Lord of the Decepticons, its you." Optimus had no clue what the smith was trying to imply, but the pat the smith gave him on the back before wandering off left the Prime more confused than anything else. However, once the blade was completed, the interaction completely slipped his mind. He had a task in mind and anxiety kept him from thinking too deeply about the details of his gift beyond the fact that it was intended for Megatron.
The gift was placed into a simple purple decorative box and Optimus rode with his entourage to the Decepticon capital, both anxious and excited. Finally, the peace talks were making progress. Soon enough, they might actually be able to form a lasting agreement for the benefit of all Cybertronians. As it stood, the mess that was the trading system and supply line system on Cybertron was abhorrent. Neither faction wanted the other anywhere near their supplies or citizens. Optimus would prefer to change that, if only to help speed up the delivery time of roughly three stellar cycles and lower the time down to hopefully at least a stellar-cycle instead.
None of his fellows thought much of the gift he was baring, too focused on their work and the details of the situation to pay it much mind during travel or when they arrived. Optimus wasn’t even hiding it. He held the long and rather unwieldy box in his arms, not caring for its awkwardness when it came time to exit the transport. Even when they stepped out and were led to the assigned meeting area, not a spark seemed concerned with Optimus's luggage. Evidently, he was well regarded enough to not be seriously suspicious.
It wasn’t expected, but when Megatron came to greet them before the talks began in earnest, the room fell totally silent as Optimus held out the box his gift was within for his former foe to take. Not a spark moved, all optics were glued to the scene as Megatron gave Optimus the greatest look of disbelief the Prime had ever seen before taking the box with great care. The warlord paused halfway through opening the box and Optimus momentarily feared that his efforts to make things better had only created the potential for greater conflict. However, much to his relief, Megatron deliberately drew the sword within and examined it with optics that glowed so bright it was almost concerning.
Hushed gasps came from the resident Decepticons and somewhere distantly, Optimus could hear Starscream muttering something along the lines of "There is no fragging way-" before he was shut up by someone or other. The urge to say something to fill the silence was nearly suffocating as Megatron held the blade and examined every inch of it as if searching for any indicator of a trap or trick. Optimus could not blame his former foe for that reaction, and the blade was of high quality, so the awe, while unusual, was not out of the realms of possibility.
"This is a fine blade." Was all Megatron said, his voice edging into something more... flustered? That couldn't be right.
"I hope it is a sufficient offering," Optimus supplied, the stifling silence and overall stillness of the room leaving him anxious to move things along. Megatron stared at the blade in sheer awe for a moment longer, even performing a swift thrusting maneuver with it to test the blade. Megatron’s optics widened further as the faint whistle that echoed in the room as the blade swept through open air. The gathered Decepticons seemed equally enraptured as both sides of the blade were presented, showing the Autobot and Decepticon sigils forged into the weapon.
Optimus could feel his anxiety getting the better of him as the situation dragged on for about another klik. But thankfully for him, Megatron nodded once after he’d tested the blade and held the weapon carefully before strapping it to his side with a magnetic connector offered to him by one of his attendants. The action earned another round of hasty and poorly hidden gasps and murmurs.
Optimus could feel optics on him as Megatron beckoned him and his entourage further inside wordlessly. The tension that had been building within his spark eased as the summit progressed without issue. A few mecha spoke on various issues that Optimus largely allowed to go in one audial and out the other. It didn’t concern him for the most part. Since the end of the war, he’d been more of a figurehead than an actual political leader. He was there for show, and maybe to add his two shanix if needed.
The only thing of note that caught Optimus's attention throughout the whole event was the manner in which Megatron held himself. His former foe seemed almost uncertain as he looked over in Optimus's direction periodically and fidgeted with the blade he had been gifted. Perhaps he wanted to offer some form of thanks and was struggling to do so? It was a marginally pleasing thought that perhaps Megatron might want to thank Optimus for anything with sincerity, but he did not allow the idea to linger. They had hurt each other so much that he didn’t dare hope for more than a courteous letter of thanks in the mail a few stellar cycles from now.
Groons passed by in a blur for the most part. The monotony of the peace talks was only broken by the occasional observation Optimus made of his former foe. If felt presumptuous to assume Megatron was nervous, but everything pointed toward it being the most likely answer to the warlord's behavior. Every time he spoke, he was seemingly normal, but the way he held himself, shifting as his optics periodically fell on Optimus was... concerning. Megatron was never one to so openly show his emotional state, at least not during political meetings of this variety. Megatron preferred stoicism since it kept his inner circle from gathering too much information on him.
There were a few reasons Megatron might be on edge, but considering Starscream was being watched like a hawk by Soundwave, he doubted it was the seeker who had Megatron shuffling in his seat. Was he expecting Optimus to attack? That would be foolishness in the extreme, especially so deep into Decepticon territory. But again, Optimus could not blame the Lord of the Decepticons for fearing such a thing if that were the case. They were enemies for millennia, after all.
A part of Optimus wanted to pull Megatron aside and reassure the warlord that he had no intention of doing anything underhanded, but Optimus abstained. He watched on quietly and only spoke when required until it was time for the summit to end. At that point, he was finishing his farewells when Megatron grasped his arm with surprising gentleness, garnering the attention of all those present.
"I accept." Two glyphs were all that were needed to send the gathered Decepticons into a frenzy. Optimus had no time to process what Megatron was even referring to before the Lord of the Decepticons pressed a small dagger into his servos before walking away, his grip on the blade Optimus gifted him plain for all to see.
Optimus was given perhaps two kliks to stare at the dagger before being dragged away. It was a simple thing, obviously an unplanned gift. But the handle was worn, and a series of Kaoni glyphs were carved into the side of it. He couldn’t read them, but the blade felt personal, important in a sense. Why had he been given it? There was no reason for Megatron to do such a thing in response to a simple diplomatic gift.
He really really hoped he hadn’t just caused a international incident.
There was no time to consider what the situation even meant before Optimus was carted back to Iacon and promptly found himself face down on his berth, exhausted. A few Autobots gave him odd looks on the way in, but now that he was alone, he was just tired. Megatron was acting weird, and his Decepticons even more so. Had he done something wrong? He certainly hoped not.
Peace summits always left him drained beyond words, and it was because of slag like this. First the Council back before the war, now Megatron and his faction. It never ended, did it?
He groaned and only rolled onto his back so that he could look at the dagger Megatron had given to him. It still felt important, even in his exhausted state. Was it perhaps his former foe's method of giving his thanks? Warframes were an interesting collection of mecha with their own unique culture. Optimus only counted as a warframe because of the Matrix. He was not forged that way and so knew very little of the culture of his fellows. Still, it would not surprise him if giving a weapon was considered a polite gesture in return for a gift.
The momentary desire to go research the reason behind the reaction to his gift giving flared as Optimus lay on his berth uselessly. However, he ultimately pushed the wish aside for the comfort of recharge. He could process everything that happened at the summit when he was fully rested…
"The Lord of the Decepticons, Megatron of Kaon has just announced this cycle that-" The holoscreen in Optimus's hab had him waking groons later groggily. He sat up with a groan and reset his optics a few times before he immediately stiffened up at the scene playing out on the screen before him.
"The proposal was made at the peace summit, complete with a blade with obvious care put into its design and forging. I saw no need to refuse such a spark deep expression of passion, and I was in fact inspired by the level of thought that was clearly involved," Optimus could imagine that if it was possible, his jaw would be touching the floor as he continuously reset his audio receptors, trying in vain to process what was playing out before him.
Megatron, his oldest foe, was on live TV... proclaiming that-
"OPTIMUS! WHAT IN PRIMUS'S NAME WHERE YOU THINKING!?" Ratchet's screech of outrage and confusion rang in Optimus's audials as he opened the comm link between himself and the medic. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of missed notifications from all of his inner circle and plenty more from other sources ranging from the media to old associates. Everyone and their turbo-fox were trying to get his attention, and as Optimus watched the holoscreen, he was beginning to see why.
"PROPOSING TO THE SLAG MAKER HIMSELF?! HAVE YOU GONE MAD!?" It hit Optimus like an armored transport as he watched Megatron show the blade Optimus had gifted him not a cycle earlier. He seemed pleased as he presented the weapon to the camera, showing off his gains much to Optimus's growing horror.
He was so slagged .