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When D-16 woke he found himself still laying on top of the carpet. However as he blinked his optics open he realised that his ceiling had disappeared. So was his floor. In their place were the vast open starry sky above and plush grass beneath.
D-16 slowly got up from his resting place on the dusty carpet and looked around in a mix of astonishment and bewilderment. He had found himself in the middle of a beautiful - no scrap that - the most beautiful garden known to Cybertron.
It was the exact garden he had attempted to daydream about earlier that day while taking care of Elita’s carpet shop. The greenest of grass covered the ground and lush ferns and palm trees stood lined up in a perfect mix of both symmetry and just enough ‘wild randomness’ to hide the fact that this wonder of nature had been planted my bots and not came into being on its own volition like most forests. The tree’s giant leaves certainly were ideal for offering shade from the scorching Iaconian sun during the day. But now at night, their morning dew on their smooth blades reflected the moon’s light like tiny crystals. And, poking out from between the ferns, the most graceful of energon flowers dotted and illuminated the dark night with their pulsing blue petals.
From within the trees D-16 could hear the cries of bronze cicadas and the melody of the occasional Cybertronian nightingale coming together in a perfect orchestral harmony. Somewhere beyond the tall fern leaves and bushes surrounding him, he could make out a distinct splattering sound. A fountain must be nearby, D-16 concluded.
The grass flattened under the wind in beautiful shimmering waves, each blade turned momentarily to reflect brilliant moonlight. The grey mech stepped slowly and carefully off the old carpet and onto the grass, his optics still blown up wide in mesmerisation unsure. The grass’s softness left D-16 in near physical shock, making the young mech halt in his treks. The halms beneath his pedes were bending so delicately and smoothly, D-16 had been convinced for a moment he was walking on cotton and clouds. He was almost tempted to let himself fall head first into its cozy green embrace, convinced it would feel like sleeping on a bed made for a king.
Luckily even in his deepest of dreams he was still lucid enough to use enough common sense to not follow through with that impulse. No matter how inviting the cushy lawn looked.
Because surely there could be no other explanation than for this to be another one of D-16’s vivid dreams. Daydreaming was the one thing he was best at after all.
D-16 was only a mere carpet merchant. And the shop he worked at wasn’t even his to call his own. It belonged to a sharp tongued femme named Elita-1, who ran the store like a drill sergeant. So day in and day out he’d slave away at the bazaar, yelling to passerbies to “come on in and take a look at the finest selection of carpets Iacon - no scratch that- all of Cybertron had to offer” and then for ones that did decide to stay and take a gander at his merchandise, it was always the same song and dance. First: Let the customer roam the shop on their own for a little while before approaching them to offer his services and advice. Then proceed to put the customer on a pedestal, while putting himself down. Rain down compliments and praises upon the potential buyer. Following the same base script each time:
“Oh most sensible of customers, I could not help but notice you ogling one of my mistress's smaller rugs. Are you looking for something small in particular? I assure you, oh pearl of travelers, that this poor lowly salesman has far better and grander carpets to offer.”
Then he’d show them a carpet he believed they would absolutely dislike, before showing them the actual ‘perfect fit’. A little trick he had picked up after years of working in the trade. When people see the worst they could end up with first, they will find the actual best option all the more appealing.
And now repeat this same scenario at least 70 times every day for several vorns with just enough holidays sprinkled throughout to keep a mech from fully going insane and losing his grip on reality. Could anyone truly blame D-16 under these circumstances for developing a love for spacing out and letting his daydreams carry him off to distant lands whenever Elita-1 wasn’t around or when business was going slow? Of course not.
D-16 was only a mere carpet merchant. But whenever he closed his eyes, he became the long lost son of a mighty prince of a land far to the east. So distant in fact that no one in Iacon had ever even heard of it. But he had been kidnapped as a young defenceless sparkling from his crib by an outlaw named Lockdown. But as the fiend was attempting to escape with the child to Iacon, still questioning if he should either sell him to one of his sire’s enemies or demand a hefty ransom for the child, Lockdown had found himself confronted by a brave mech. A carpet merchant from Iacon. The merchant had jumped at the kidnapper and wrestled the crying sparkling from his arms and chased the villain to run away into the desert with his tail between his legs. The merchant, unaware of the sparkling’s true heritage, adopted him as his own.
This daydream of course comfortably ignored the fact that Megatron never grew up with a sire, biological or adoptive for that matter. But that was hardly of interest to the silver mech. After all, D-16 had also never ventured outside of the safety of Iacon’s fortification walls and yet his dreams took him to distant lands. All the way to the heart of the desert to take revenge upon Lockdown and in the end return to his homeland and reunite with his biological sire.
And his sire’s palace always included a garden just like this one. One he had attempted to dream about just earlier that day before his daydream had been rudely interrupted by a customer. A rather strange fellow at that.
The customer had been an old model. A few vorns away from the scrap heap, if you’d ask D-16. The mech’s frame, or the parts of it he could see under the large garment covering him, had been covered in dust and sand. A clear indicator of him being a nomad. One that had just crossed the treacherous path through the desert to reach the heaven of Iacon. His facial plate was hidden from the world behind a thick pair of visors and a steel battle mask.
D-16 clearly remembered how he had nearly fallen off his chair by the counter when the old rust bucket first spoke to him.
“Excuse me, son of a great establishment. Do you buy carpets for selling?” he had asked, while towering over the silver mech, his frame blocking out the sun completely, downing D-16 in shadow. His voice was raspy and filled with ghostly static, struggling to stay barely above a whisper as he spoke. His voice box must have been damaged by inhaled sand or maybe it had simply started to malfunction due to the mech’s age. Who could say for certain?
D-16 had clambered onto the counter desk, his optics shooting up at the giant old timer: “I am but a lowly employee, oh great wanderer of large distances” D-16 had responded, switching to his overly polite merchant-persona, while trying to hide how truly intimidated he was by the bot’s size and spooky voice
“This shop belongs to the exalted Mistress Elita-1. But yes. We do in fact buy carpets, oh mighty desert explorer!” D-16 had explained, the stench of the mech’s travels was by that point reaching his enstril and the young mech had to fight every program screaming at him to not physically start dry heaving from the foul smell. He would never hear the end of it from Elita if she found out he had chased off a potential customer because of something silly like the client’s lack of a recent bath.
“Fantastic” the travelerer had answered, dragging out each syllable as he began fishing for something inside his subspace before finally revealing an old -perhaps even more ancient then the client himself- ragged carpet. The threads at the end had become all tethered and loose. Not to mention: Whatever fine pattern must have adorned this rug vorns ago, was now hidden behind a thick layer of blackened dust and, what D-16 assumed to be dried up mud.
“I wish to sell this, dear employee of this illustrious house.” the customer’s hoarse voice had fought against the noise of the bazaar surrounding them.
He is using the same compliment strategy as me. He must be of the trades, too. D-16 had noticed. Better stay alert with this one. Sly foxes as we merchants are.
D-16 reached for the carpet with hesitant digits. Examining and assessing the dirty fabric’s quality to the best of his abilities given the rug’s condition.
“This humble layman could take this masterwork of tapestry off of your well used servos for… 30 Shanix.” And D-16 was being generous for that price.
“500 Shanix” the traveler’s raspy voice box had countered.
“What?”
“500 Shanix. That is how much I demand for this carpet.”
“Surely you jest, oh king of the desert!” D-16 had laughed nervously “The best this lowest of low salesmen can stretch is 50 Shanix.”
“500 Shanix” the cloaked mech repeated, leaning down to D-16’s facial plate until their enstril were a mere hair length apart “Not more. Not less.”
Though nut to crack.
“My humblest and noblest colleague of trade, I urge you to see reason!” D-16 argued “I am just a simple poor carpet merchant! There is no way I could ever pay that much for this… errr-” for the first time D-16 had scrambled for words, trying to find the kindest way possible to describe this rug as anything but a ‘ratty lump’ “Antique!” he had hastily blurted out after an awkward pause.
“My dear diamond in the rough”, the stranger had spoken with a strained yet pinched voice “You would not be paying me for a simple rug. What if I told you that this Inconspicuous carpet… could fly?”
A flying carpet. Any bot who had their brain module intact would have thought the stranger to be a madman or the worst scam artist to ever enter Iacon’s bazaar. A flying carpet. Everyone knew that the art of flying was reserved to those lucky few who were forged as seekers or flying types. A flying carpet. Those things only exist within legends and the imagination of bots stuck with grounded altmodes. A flying carpet. Whoever would fall for a story like that?
Well D-16 would.
D-16’s memories were frankly a bit hazy afterwards. He could not remember why he found himself so easily swayed by the foreigner’s claim. But fortunately for him, he did manage to cough up the 500 Shanix the wanderer had demanded for the rug. Unfortunately for him he did that by grabbing 500 Shanix from the shop’s cash register.
Elita was gonna hang and quarter him when she found out where the last month’s earnings had vanished to. But that was a problem for future D-16 to face. Until then he had found himself the proud owner of a verified magical flying carpet.
Too bad just that D-16 had neglected to ask the customer how to get the carpet to fly. So D-16 had seized the chance that his boss would not be back for several hours at least and had closed the shop for a prolonged ‘lunch break’. During which he had just yelled different magic incantations at the carpet. From a formal “Fly my woven steed” to the well-known “Abracadabra” and finally a good old classic “JUST GET UP AND FLY YOU LAZY RUG!”
But nothing seemed to work. To which D-16 decided to just admit defeat (for now) and use the dusty old carpet as an impromptu sleeping mat. Maybe a small round of dreaming might help him think of some other magic spells that might work.
And that is how his dream must have surely taken him to one of his favourite parts of each “perfect imaginary life”. His triumphant return to his real sire’s palace. And oh how magnificent of a palace his brain module had dreamt up this time. It was truly a splendour. The only thing missing now to complete and perfect this dream was the reveal of a noblebot he had been promised to as a sparkling, prior to his kidnapping.
Sometimes his promised conjunx was a mech. Other times a femme. But in every dream they were the most beautiful and elegant bot Cybertron had ever had the honour of calling one of its inhabitants. However beauty was not all the fiancé of his dreams had to offer. Without fail their dreams gave them wits beyond compare and the sharpest of minds.
Any bot would gladly go to war for a beloved like that. So maybe it was for the best that they were just a mere product of his wild imagination.
And as if on demand, on the far end of the palace garden, sitting by a magnificent energon fountain, D-16 saw him. A gorgeous noblemech with the most radiant blue and red coloured frame in all of Iacon. The colour of his optics matched that of the fountain’s abundant energon. The mech swayed one servo lazily around in the fountain, creating small whirlpools in the energon with soft swirly motions. And his voice. Oh that lovely clear voice humming an unknown melody.
No doubt about it. This must be the prince - his fiancé - of tonight’s dream. Probably the most stunning one his mind had conjured up yet.
D-16, slowly took off his sleeping cap, laying it down on a bench by the bushes, as he stared in awe at the gorgeous bot by the well.
The carpet merchant had to admit, he felt almost intimidated by the mech’s beauty, as he felt himself both drawn to him yet too shy - too uncertain- too approach him. So he just stood there, still like the marble and bronze sculptures adorning the garden.
The mech must have sensed D-16’s presence as his attention drifted suddenly from his rippled reflection in the fountain to him.
“Are you a new kind of servant?” he called out, retracting his servo from the fountain and skipping over the damp grass to get a closer look at the new face.
“No… masterpiece of my imagination”, D-16 spoke, his voice dripping with mesmerisation. The mech now stood right in front of him “Know that I am the long lost son of a distant prince!”
“Oh” the mech blinked a few times, as if trying to process the information “So… does that mean you are some other sort of femme?”
D-16 stared at the mech of his dreams with perplexity.
“I am not a femme! You can rest assured: I am very much a mech.” he blurted out. Surely people did say the weirdest things in dreams every so often. But this is the first time someone had mistaken him for anything but a mech.
“No no no, that can’t be.” the mech shook his helm as he began circling D-16 curiously “You are the wrong shape and frame to be a mech. A real mech is at least 3 times your size. Especially one claiming to be a prince.”
Rude.
“Well you are a mech too and you are not exactly the tallest bot either.” D-16 countered.
“Well yeah for now!” the mech retorted, blowing up his cheeks defiantly “But once I become a certified Prime I’ll tower over you.”
“Yeah but you do see now that size alone is not what defines a mech, right?”
“Ah! You do have a point there…”, he admitted bashfully.
“Could it be that you’ve… never seen another mech before in your life?” D-16 asked hesitantly.
“Of course I haven’t!” he exclaimed “I’ve only ever seen my sire before. But I have seen quite a lot of him so I do know what mechs are supposed to look like.”
“But you do go outside right?” D-16 inquired
“I am outside right now, am I not?” he giggled, spreading out his arms to point at the garden surrounding them “Out in the open air, enjoying my night garden. It was a gift from my Sire, you know?”
“No I mean- Outside! Outside the palace. Have you ever been in the town? Seen the people there?”
“Well… no” he admitted, letting his helm fall down in defeat. He twirled around and let himself plummet back down at the ledge of the fountain, his optics once again focussed on his own reflection. D-16 followed him slowly, unsurely sitting down at the ledge beside him.
“My sire said I might be able to go outside someday… If my future conjunx allows it, that is.”
“Why would I forbid you from going outside?” D-16 blurted out.
The prince merely stared at him, his helm tilted and a brow ridge raised in confusion as if he wanted to make sure he had heard D-16 correctly.
“You are not prince Ultra Magnus.” he said matter of factly, as if he were simply stating the time.
Well this was new.
This was the first time in his dreams where the beautiful bot was NOT his fiancé.
“Y-yes! You’re right. Sorry I don’t know what came over me-” D-16 stammered in one breath “Wait! Did you just say… Ultra Magnus is your fiancé?”
“Yes?” he confirmed, the expression of confusion deepening upon his face plate
“But isn’t he like…” D-16 fiddled with his servos trying to find the right words “ancient?”
“Well…” he replied “I’ve obviously never seen him myself but my Sire assured me he is a mech in his prime. Just like my Sire is. But the fact of the matter stays: Until I get married to Ultra Magnus, I must stay inside the palace.”
“I don’t understand… Why would your own Sire keep you hidden- no. Imprisoned in this palace?”
“I believe it has to do with the violent nature of mechs.” the prince disclosed “My sire said that if another mech saw me before Lord Ultra Magnus did, he would instantly fall in love with me and carry me off to become his conjunx instead. ‘Most mechs are just like beasts’, he always says ‘They lack all sense of self control and mercy!” His voice dropped several octaves while quoting his sire in an attempt to imitate him.
“Well I am not a beast.” D-16 declared, crossing his arms over his chassis.
“Indeed you are not.” the prince agreed “Which in turn proves you must actually be a femme! Maybe your sire raised you to believe you’re a mech, for reasons of his own? Similar to why mine keeps me hidden away in the palace?”
“He did no such thing, trust me.” D-16 rubbed his temples, slowly growing frustrated over this argument. But at the same time he did not fail to notice how earnest the other one’s worry seemed to be. And frankly the worried frown on his facial plate and the distinct way his optics shone in resonance with the fountain’s energon made him all the more beautiful.
“Then tell me about your Sire. And that distant land you come from. Perhaps we can find the answer for your strange self image in that?” the prince suggested, scooting closer to D-16, glancing at the carpet seller with pleading optics.
“I told you I am indeed a mech!” D-16 asserted before sighing exhaustedly “But very well. Maybe if I tell you, you will finally believe me”
And so D-16 began to recount the tails of his many past dreams. Of the palace he had grown up in, the riches and beauty of his Sire’s magnificent kingdom, of how he had been stolen by the fiend Lockdown as a mere sparkling before being rescued by his foster sire. He told him about the many perils he faced to return back to his homeland and how his sire had recognised him the very klick he laid eyes upon him, even after all the years they had been apart.
And the prince listened to each word attentively with bated breath, only interrupting to shout “no way!”, “That’s terrific!” “And what did you do then?!” In between D-16’s narration.
When D-16’s story had finally concluded he turned towards the blue prince with a confident smile.
“So as you can see, neither my adoptive nor my actual sire have motive or cause to try and hide my own gender from me. They are both honest and upstanding citizens.” D-16 proclaimed, hoping to have finally convinced the prince that he was indeed a mech.
But the mech just put a digit to his chin, his forehead twisting into a deep, thoughtful frown.
Oh no.
“You are correct that, based on your description, neither of your sires seem like the type of bots that would raise their sparkling to believe such a falsehood. And yet I just cannot handle the fact that someone as small as you is supposed to be a mech.”
D-16 sighed in defeat. Was there nothing he could do to finally convince the other one that he was indeed a HE?
Suddenly the carpet merchant’s optics blew up and one could have almost seen a little light bulb appear above his helm.
D-16 snapped his fingers as an ecstatic smile crept onto his facial plate.
“Say… About that fiancé of yours.” he began to steer the conversation away from his imaginary sires “Ultra Magnus. Would you not agree that it seems rather unfair that your sire is forcing you to marry a mech you have never seen before?”
“I mean I cannot claim that this thought has never crossed my mind” the mech admitted “but I have already told you why my sire won’t let me see other mechs. They would just kidnap me and-”
“Yes I know, but I might have an idea on how you can get a clearer picture of what mechs look like without having you leave the palace. Or even come face to face with one. Well except for me that is.” D-16 intercepted the sheltered prince, mumbling the last part into a non-existing beard.
“You do?” the other one shot up in excitement, his optics twinkling like the stars.
“I do.” D-16 confirmed “Here is the plan. I shall return tomorrow night with portraits and paintings of different mechs from around Iacon. Then you shall finally see that mechs do come in different shapes and sizes. And it will give you a frame of reference to compare your fiancé Lord Ultra Magnus to.” D-16 had to actively insure that his speech stayed formal and fitting for a distant prince, noticing his speech pattern almost slip into ‘the tongue of commoners’ out of sheer eagerness and enthusiasm over his own idea.
“That would indeed be rather instructive” the mech giggled “And it would give me an excuse to see you again. I rather enjoyed our talk and listening to you about your travels and adventures! It has been the most fun I must have had in vorns!”
D-16 felt his fans whirring and a rosy tint spreading across his cheeks. Oh why did his brain module have to create the most magnificent being for this dream only to then promise him to another mech.
The irony of being jealous towards a real nobleman over a mech that did not even exist, was not lost on D-16.
“Then so it shall be!” D-16 pronounced, standing up and bowing deeply in front of the prince “We shall meet here by the well tomorrow at midnight!”
“I will await your return.” the prince answered, returning D-16’s bow respectfully with a slightly less deeper one.
Suddenly the prince’s gaze wandered off behind D-16.
“The sun is starting to rise” the blue mech stated calmly, pointing at a thin golden line creeping over the distant desert dunes and city walls “I should probably head back indoors for now too. Before my Sire or maids notice I am not in my room. And you too should probably go back for now. Goodness knows what my Sire will do if he finds out someone has snuck into the palace.”
“Oh! Right you are!” D-16 scrambled back towards whence he came - in other words the carpet- while waving back towards the prince “I’ll see you at midnight-” That’s when he realised he had never even asked the mech the most important question.
“Excuse me but what is your name?”
“I will tell you only if you promise that you will not laugh. It is a rather silly name…”
“You have my word!”
“It’s Orion Pax. Like the star constellation.”
A silly name? That is no silly name. It was the most perfect and fitting name for the most perfect mech he had ever dreamed up.
“Then let me give you my name in return. Call me D-16.” the carpet merchant replied.
A soft smile tucked at the corners of Orion’s mouth.
“Until midnight then, D-16.” Orion spoke as he headed back inside the palace.
“Yes. Until midnight, Orion Pax.” D-16 echoed the prince’s words, amazed by how easily the name Orion Pax left his lisps. Like the sweetest energon syrup.
When D-16 finally reached his carpet, he remembered he still had no idea how to get the accursed piece of tapestry to fly upon command.
But this was still just a dream at the end of the day. So he decided to leave the palace the same way he entered it. By laying down upon the carpet, closing his optics and falling back asleep.
When D-16’s optics came back online he found himself blinded by a glaring light of the midday sun, streaming through the chinks of the carpet shop’s window curtain.
D-16 rubbed his optics, feeling both energised by the beautiful dream he just had, and yet feeling not an ounce refreshed despite having slept until noon, judging by the sun’s position and the heat.
He had missed opening up the shop this morning.
Add that to the list of reasons why Elita-1 would rip him a new one, once she returned from her trip to Velocitron.
D-16’s servo groggily reached up towards his helm, to take off his sleeping cap. Only to be met with the cold metal surface of his own helm. His optics shot upon as he began looking all around him in search of his hat. But it was nowhere in sight.
Okay D-16. Think, think, think. Where did you last leave it? Did I take it off at any point during the night? No. I was asleep the entire time. The only time I took it off was… in… the… dream garden…
His servo sank from the top of his helm, across his facial plate, before resting above his mouth in pure shock as the realisation began to sink in.
It hadn’t been a dream.