|COMPLETE| My Love (Decepticon scenarios)

You have a moment

Megatron

You didn't think Megatron expected you to come back from your "commander" training with some of the other higher-ups, for when you came back to your room, you walked in on a surprising rarity. 

There stood the great Megatronus of Tarn: writer, gladiator, revolutionary, warlord, founder and leader of the mighty Decepticons. He stood, red optics betraying the thoughts and memories flashing through his mind.

There he stood- helmet discarded to the side.

"Megatron...?"

The crimson optics found you in the mirror they had been staring into. "(Y/N). Done so soon?" You nodded, but your own line of thinking was taken somewhere else. 'Crimson...What would he have looked like if he had blue eyes?' 

"I take it things went well?" The disks that made out part of his head moved ever so slightly as he turned to face you. 

"It did. Your commanding officers really are a big help. Well, most of them..." 

Megatron motioned for you to come closer. Once at his feet, he took you up and held you in his servos. "Are they disrespectful towards you?" There was a growl in his voice. His helm appendages flared upwards. 'Suddenly the warlord showed emotion much more vividly.'

"I do not think all of them are that fond of me," you admitted. "They believe I am too weak."

"Weak!? Ha!" A deep rumble of a dry laugh escaped the mech holding you. "The fools do not know of whom they speak."

"Yet you once thought my kind- that I- was weak." 

The spurs on Megatron's helm slowly bent backwards as his vexation was replaced with something else. "I was a fool as well." He gently stroked your back with his thumb.

"I was once weak. Or so I thought..." For a brief moment, his optics darted back to the mirror, and all his memories once again came forth. Sighing, the mech sat down on the side of his berth and placed you down beside him. "Do you know why I wear the helmet?" 

"To protect your helm disks in battle?" 

The mech reached out and took hold of the helmet. "Yes, but not originally in battle. I first wore it in the mines where I worked." He brushed the side, inspecting it. "I was born into the lowest tier of the caste system and, as many others were forced to do, was forced to take up the work to provide for those I held dear. It was a sign of my low rank.

But when I became a gladiator, it became a symbol of hope of sorts. A simple helmet to protect my most delicate of parts from the worst of blows. If such a miner's helm could protect me, then the people could be protected from the corrupt senate. I only took it off when I addressed the people to show them that I had my faults just as they did. I had wanted to encourage them to fight despite those faults. It contiued to be such a symbol throughout the revolution- my revolution."

Megatron's helm slowly sagged down. "Then, when I started the war, the symbolism changed once again..." His servos gripped the helmet tighter. "When wearing this helmet, I have no physical weakness. No one can see what happens in my mind. No one can ever take advantage." 

A small hand was placed on his trembling servo. "I think you look really handsome without it..." You smile. "Especially since your emotions show so much brighter." 

The helmet was dropped to the floor as the mech laid back and placed you on his chest. "For you, my dear (Y/N)," a massive, toothless smile was drawn across the grey mech's face. "I will flaunt my helm as you please."