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The Military Lord and the Hero's Creation	By : TheGatekat Category: Transformers > G1 > Slash - M/M Views: 2755 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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The Military Lord and the Hero's Creation 02: An Orn With Prowl

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"Lord Jazz, Lord Prowl requests you join him in the suite's common room for breakfast," Evening Bronze spoke softly as she finished detailing Jazz early the next orn.
Jazz stretched slowly as she stepped away, checking himself in the mirror quickly. He had to admit that this- not having to worry about his own appearance every morning before he emerged in the House- was something that he could get used to. An idle part of his processor also wondered how many arguments and disapproving looks from his creator's second bonded such service would have saved him.
"Thank you." He said, acknowledging the quality and skill of her work first. "I would be honored to join him. When does he normally break fast?"
"Half a joor after dawn," she answered easily, intimately familiar with Prowl's habits and schedule while he was in the family compound. "Do not be concerned. He did not expect you to be ready so early after your long journey. He is in the common room, working until you arrive."
Jazz checked the time and just kept his face neutral. By habit he himself was an early riser, simply because it had been easier to slip out of the house in the early joors of the orn. "I still should not keep him waiting any longer." He commented as he departed. He opened the lockable door between his rooms and the larger areas that he and Prowl shared and looked around. His intended was easy to spot, sitting calmly at one of the smaller tables in the large room off to the side. A board for Swords and Axes was set up.
"Did you recharge well, Jazz?" Prowl asked.
"Very well, thank you." Jazz answered as he crossed the room. It was the truth too, the young mech not even noticing when his guardian had left him for the night, only waking this morning to find the room dark and the door locked when Evening Bronze had pinged requesting entrance.
"And you, Prowl?" He asked, polite but sincere as he settled in a seat across from the Praxian.
"My recharge was satisfactory," he gave Jazz a small, somewhat stiff smile. "Do you enjoy playing?" he motioned to the board game.
Jazz scanned the board, finding it familiar, though the set was not quite as battered as the one he was used to playing with. He would wager that this one had not suffered the hands of enthusiastic younglings often, if ever.
"Yes. I play Sovereign and Campaign as well." He added, naming two other strategy games, both more advanced than this one.
"Excellent," Prowl brightened, his reaction more delight than mere approval. Two cubes of energon, simple but of good quality, were brought from his subspace as his datapad was put in. One cube was offered to Jazz. "Do you wish to move first?"
"Since you offered and I have the feeling I am going to need all the help I can get?" Jazz asked as he accepted the cube, the edge of good humor in his voice genuine, "Yes, thank you."
"From your profile, I do have significantly more tactical training and experience," Prowl agreed, watching his intended consider the board with interest. "What do you expect of your intended?"
"What?" Jazz face lifted to meet Prowl's optics, his expression a moment of open surprise.
"What do you expect of your bonded?" Prowl rephrased slightly. "I have gathered that you did not anticipate being the subordinate mate, however there should be traits you desire regardless of who is dominant politically."
"I hadn't anticipated being bonded at all." There was no chance mistaking the bitterness in Jazz's voice as he finally made his move, more to avoid looking Prowl in the optics any longer than a real desire to get the game underway.
Jazz hadn't given what he wanted a great deal of thought, putting all of his efforts into getting out potentially being bonded instead. He certainly knew what he didn't want. He didn't want a business relationship like the one that seemed to exist between his sire and his sire's second bonded.
When he had given it any thought at all, when his imagination had wandered to potential event he had thought was very far in the future, he had imagined someone like his brother's bonded. A smart, kind, gentle mech who was obviously very much in love with his mate. Lover, confident....
"A friend." He sighed softly, staring at the board.
Prowl canted his wings in acknowledgement made a move, seemingly without thinking, and gave Jazz his first solid insight into just how pragmatic and tactical the mech was.
"And what you do not want?" Prowl asked smoothly.
"Prison." Jazz slid another piece into place, testing Prowl's reaction and trying to get a feel for the other mech's style of play.
He didn't want his freedom stripped away. Didn't want to loose everything in life that he enjoyed. Didn't want to have to fight for every little good thing in functioning.
The Praxian cocked his helm and regarded Jazz for a lingering moment, the game ignored. "Your home was not a happy place."
"It was home." Jazz shrugged, expression carefully neutral as he looked up, waiting for Prowl to move. "It was happy."
Just not for him all the time.
Golden optics seemed to sharpen as they locked onto Jazz, the field of his intended reaching out to brush against Jazz's with an intense curiosity.
"I can not give you what I do not know about," Prowl said simply. "Communication and honesty is important."
There was a very long silence, time for Prowl to feel the conflict raging inside Jazz as the smaller mech searched for answers, and a reason to answer.
"My carrier returned to the Well of Sparks not long after I separated." Jazz stated quietly. Cold, simply stated fact in the profile that Prowl had been given, made much more with the muted grief that mech before him felt. "My Sire is often absent from the House, serving the Prime. My sire's second bonded did not care for how fond my sire was of me after my carrier ceased to function."
"And yet you did not wish to take the first out you had available," Prowl said thoughtfully. "You could have escaped long ago if you accepted an earlier offer."
"I didn't like any of them." In truth he had managed to convince all of them that they didn't like him. He never did enough to actually bring shame to his House, but with every one of them he had managed to pinpoint the one thing that would make them walk away and exploited it until they had left.
He nudged another piece into play, taking a bolder approach than he had originally planned at the beginning. It was too soon to tell if the gamble would pay off, but either way it would be interesting. "I had another chance, just not enough time. My sire... he promised he would take me with him, once my combat skills were sufficient."
"Until the offer of a bond-alliance with the Lord Heir of House of the Shining Sun was made," Prowl said with a touch of understanding. "We could have asked for his heir and received him." He paused, considering Jazz as more than the game as he made a move, smoothly countering Jazz's tactic. "This will be no more a prison than you make of it."
"And how is that?" Wary curiosity colored Jazz's tone as he tried another route, already resigned to the fact that he was going to loose this game but determined to find out as much as he could.
"Follow the rules and you will be free to do largely as you please, including making a reputation for yourself on the battlefield," Prowl said simply.
"The rules?" Jazz repeated, biting down on the bitterness threatening to rise at that term.
There were always rules.
"You did receive the House laws and my few personal additions when you were given the House datafile?" Prowl lifted his wings in a display of displeasure directed not-at-Jazz.
"Yes." Jazz assured him quickly and quietly, clearly following the wing movement warily even if the displeasure was not at him. He relaxed slightly when Prowl settled just as quickly. He had been so distracted he hadn't done more than look them over quickly to make sure he wouldn't violate any that weren't common sense and left it at that the orn before. "I have not gone over them in detail yet." He admitted, truthful.
"Perhaps now would be a good time," Prowl suggested. "I can explain any that do not make immediate sense."
"They ... are all very clear." Jazz stated after he had inspected the House list and his intended's additions, though he was clearly not entirely pleased with some of them.
"Which are you displeased by?" Prowl asked simply as he moved a piece without seeming to look at the game.
"I must have an escort?" Jazz repeated very carefully, emphasis clearly marking the part he had issue with.
"For your protection," Prowl nodded, the cant of his wings saying volumes about how little that was up for negotiation. "You are not the youngest creation of a first generation House in a minor territory now. You are the intended of the Lord Heir of the second most powerful warrior House in Praxus, a city second only to Iacon in importance. You will be the target of many plots and attempts on your life from those outside this House. If my sparker extinguishes before I have an heir this House will loose much of its standing and power, as it must be without a formally acknowledged Lord until I have an heir, or step down for one of my younger siblings who already has an heir to take over."
And it was very clear to Jazz that while he might list them as options, Prowl was willing to allow neither scenario to come about. "So if I wish to go out...?" Jazz asked, the anger rippling through his field not making it into his voice.
"You will have at least one guardian nearby until the House can afford to loose you," Prowl said firmly, though personally he was not about to allow the dishonor of having his first bonded killed or captured due to his negligence. "Even I am required to have guards to hunt."
Jazz vented roughly but didn't argue, though his field made his feelings very clear. Just because he understood and would comply did not mean he would be happy about it. "And inside the compound?"
"You are free to go where you please, as long as you do not break other rules," Prowl said simply. "There is very little that is off limits to you."
Jazz nodded acceptance and understanding as he moved a piece across the board, clearly loosing. His field pulled away, thoughtful and quiet. "And what about you?" He finally asked. "What do you expect of me?"
Prowl considered him seriously before answering. "I expect strong, well-educated creations. I expect you to honor this House in your behavior. I expect no one but myself to share your berth." He paused slightly. "I want a mate to rule with me, to stand at my side because he wants to be with me."
The smaller mech's visor flickered. He had expected everything but the last bit. If...if this was the truth...
The faintest bit of hope rippled through Jazz's field, strong enough to be felt where it still touched Prowl's.
He did not want this, had never wanted to be where he was. But he might yet learn to like it.
"All of my creator's bondeds are political arrangements of one kind or another," Prowl expanded his explanation a bit. "As are most of the other political mecha's bondeds. Warriors typically bond for love of some kind or another. The strongest bonds, those that have the best creations and bring out the most in the couple, are always those where both mecha respect and care for the other. I cannot expect a hurriedly arranged and bought mate to desire me immediately. We can, however, work towards that. We do not have a choice in this bond, Jazz. We do have a choice in what we make of it."
For a moment Jazz balked, reminded that indeed he had no choice. None that would not bring shame on his House that it would never recover from. The arrangements were made, the contracts signed, and he was bound by them even if he had not been involved in creating them.
It was small consolation that Prowl had just admitted that he was in much the same situation. Yet Prowl was offering him what he wanted, even if this was not the way that Jazz had envisioned going about getting it. Helm tilted to the side, he made a move that sealed his fate in the game. "I wish to try."
The smile he received from the reserved, stern Praxian was warm. Where their fields touched Jazz was caressed with gratitude and intense approval.
"I am glad," Prowl said softly as he made a move that would end the game quickly. "While you can not be seen arguing with me, I need you to tell me the truth when we are in private. Even if you believe it will displease me."
Jazz just caught his field from pressing into the touch, surprised and a little disconcerted at how good it felt. Scrambling, he searched and found something else to focus on. "May I watch the training this afternoon?"
"Of course," Prowl graced him with another smile. "While my duties as Lord Heir include a great many bureaucratic duties, it is also part of my function to lead our warriors in battle. I spend half my typical orn training and overseeing their training."
Recovered, Jazz relaxed once more. "It will be interesting to see."
S S S S S S S S S===================S S S S S S S S S
Walking around the compound, much of which was dedicated to the warrior class and their training, had proven enlightening to Jazz. While his training had been outsourced much of the time, here the entire estate, and it was a huge estate, revolved around the highly structured and disciplined existence of the warrior class, which included the very Lords of the House.
Entire cadres, eight strong, worked in formation with swords to attack, shields to defend, polearms against imaginary larger targets. Each group in perfect unison, perfect harmony.
Watching it, there was no way to miss the pride Prowl felt as he gazed over the core of his House's power.
Pride that was well deserved as Jazz spent most of his time observing and assimilating, processing the shift in focus and power from the individualized style he was used to.
And asking the occasional question. His first soft inquiry had been met with surprise-approval from Prowl. Not at the fact that the smaller mech had dared to ask, but at the depth and level of observation that had clearly gone into forming it. The answer offered in return had reflected that effort, detailed and informative, the talk of one warrior to another.
At other times, often, really, Jazz remained very quiet, trying to be effectively invisible just behind Prowl as the Praxian did his rounds and spoke to each and every cadre leader and instructor in the compound, along with sparkling and youngling educators and the odd mix of mecha charged with molding the mechlings into enough of a disciplined and educated lot that they could begin true training in their final mechling upgrade.
Each spoke frankly to Prowl, praising some and recounting the reprimands of others. By the time the three joor tour was finished Jazz was still trying to processes the House culture that produced such discipline and honesty through the ranks.
He was also reasonably sure that none of the speakers, nor Prowl, was putting on any kind of act or show for him. This was simply how this House ran. Prowl oversaw everything personally. Jazz was reasonably sure Prowl could recount the designation, rank, cadre and specialties of every warrior under his command.
It was a fascinating insight to his intended's abilities and level of devotion to his position and his House.
And anything that he cared about.
If Prowl really wanted to care about Jazz ... the implications just about melted the young noble's processor.
"Would you care to join me in my lessons for the orn?" Prowl asked as they approached the main house in the compound.
"Yes. Thank you." Jazz replied, a mental shake managing to settle his processor somewhat as they entered the house, seeing it through new optics as well.
While nothing that went on was completely new to him, the scale on which it occurred in the House of the Shining Sun was almost more than he could process. Life went on, intricate and complicated, but so smoothly that on the surface it appeared effortless.
He kept looking, watching, understanding a little more here and there as Prowl led him to the very heart of the building. Where one would think the throne room or war room would be was instead the dojo where the ranking nobility trained. It was simple, clean, with a meditation space towards the back and two large sparing daises up front.
Prowl took a single step inside, came to perfect center balance and bowed deeply to a spot on the far wall. Jazz couldn't see anything special about the small circular mirror of gold with its simple silver frame, but it clearly held great importance to his intended.
He waited, quietly and respectfully a step behind Prowl to see if any explanation would be offered.
When Prowl straitened an older Praxian, a solid matte black with only the faintest highlights of gold stepped into the room from behind a curtain.
"Master Ziariace," Prowl bowed once more. "May I present my intended, Lord Jazz from the House of Crossbeam."
The ancient Praxian inclined his helm slightly, a show of his status far more than Jazz's.
For a moment their optics met, then Jazz bowed low, the respect of the lowly beginner honoring a master.
And master the old mech was, of this room, despite its location at the heart of the House.
"Will I attempt to train this one as well?" Master Ziariace asked, the only show of Prowl's status that would be seen in this space. For here Prowl was not a Lord, not the Lord Heir, not the one who led the House in war. Here he was merely a student, and all knew it.
Prowl's gaze went to Jazz, asking despite the silence.
"If the master would deem a sparkling in the arts worthy of his time, I would be honored." Jazz answered, acknowledging his place in the scheme of things with a calm that Prowl had not seen in him before.
"Then begin your warm up katas, both of you," his gaze shifted to Jazz. "You will spar against Prowl, to show me what skills you possess."
Prowl bowed his helm in acknowledgement of the order and stepped to his familiar place in the center of one of the daises, motioning Jazz to the other.
This was certainly not what Jazz had been expecting, a thought that he put out of his processor as he stepped to the center of the other practice area and slowly began to clear his processor as the monks had taught him, letting go of distracting thoughts and emotions with each regulated ex-vent.
Only once he was quiet and centered did he begin to move, starting with the simplest of the unarmed katas he had been taught as youngling. His motion was unhurried, smooth grace in pursuit of perfection as he slid from one motion to the next, working his way through the forms.
Though he wasn't looking, he knew Prowl was doing much the same. He could hear the whisper-quiet of the other mech's systems as they powered his frame through each maneuver. It was incredibly soothing on so many levels to be doing this. It soothed a fear that he would be relegated to a position where he could never again enjoy the purity of existence that the katas brought.
While he was always aware of his surroundings, Jazz proceeded to loose himself in something that was familiar and safe, his focus narrowing as he proceeded into the more difficult forms until he finally reached sequences that he had only just begun to master, slowing down and focusing on each individual motion with all the concentration due the art he was striving to perform.
"Enough," the Master called them to stop. "Face Prowl. Freeform."
Jazz froze instantly at the first word, frame shifting smoothly back to a neutral stance as the Master continued. Instructed, he bowed to the old mech before turning to join his partner and inclining his head, ready to begin when Prowl was.
His intended settled easily into a defensive posture, well aware this was a demonstration of Jazz's abilities, not his own.
The smaller mech did not rush into the attack, coming at Prowl with a mid level strike that would not be insulting to the skill Prowl possessed and would begin to give Jazz a feel for the reflexes and personal style of the Praxian.
The reply was a smooth block right out of Diffusion, then a hand grabbed Jazz's extended wrist and used the remaining momentum to throw him into a roll, a move out of Circuit-Su's handbook.
Jazz went with the energy, allowing it to carry him over into the roll and back to his feet, turning smoothly to face Prowl, already balanced and moving in to strike again. Again and again his attacks were deflected, redirected or simply avoided. Yet in it he could see that Prowl wasn't a master yet, or even that close to one. His intended was better than him, no doubt about it, but not by an insurmountable margin.
Without warning Prowl's tactics shifted, displaying the heavy influence Metallikato had in the House's form as he attacked. Simple moves, ones selected and executed at a level Jazz could cope with, but always with the edge of how much power and precision was being held back.
It could have been frustrating, but frustration in battle was something that had been trained out of Jazz long ago. Instead he simply became more determined, each of his shortcomings noted subconsciously to be reviewed and meditated upon later that they might be corrected. At the same time his own moves shifted to account for the shift in his intended's style and execution.
As their fields brushed and mingled with each exchange, Jazz also noted the pleasure-joy-calmness that saturated Prowl's very essence as they continued. In there was also a notable lack of smugness or superiority at being better than his opponent.
Even that was filed away for later, something to be reflected on in the privacy of meditation. Still, no matter how hard he tried, Jazz couldn't keep the small edge of pleasure out of his own field.
"Enough," the Master called out, garnering instant neutral stances in both his students and their full attention to him. "Prowl, practice the seventh katas with your blades. Jazz, come," he motioned the younger mech to join him in the second dais.
Jazz saluted his partner respectfully before moving to join the Master, his attention focused on the darker mech as he waited quietly for further instruction.
S S S S S S S S S===================S S S S S S S S S
Three and a half joors later, the Master released them both, giving Jazz a different time to come for his training separate from Prowl's. It had been one of the most exacting, trying and rewarding afternoons of his entire existence.
"You will advance quickly if you continue to focus so well," Prowl said as they walked, the praise honest.
"Thank you." Jazz replied, the small smile and the light in his optics honest and hinting at thanks that went far deeper than just the compliment he had been given, the field that was loose enough to just maintain contact with Prowl's at ease in the Praxian's presence.
It was quite a change from his arrival only an orn before.
"What are your energy levels?"
"57%." Jazz checked. Not dangerously low by any means, and not quite at the point where he generally started to feel the need to go in search of fuel.
"Then come, we can raid the kitchen for a snack," Prowl gave him a small smile that might have been playful when he'd been younger.
The soft laughter that it earned him in return was worth the effort, Jazz following the Praxian's lead in search of the promised snack. The kitchen wasn't very busy and the ancient mech that seemed to be in charge of it smiled and bowed to them, his manner speaking of a level of familiarity Prowl permitted that was more than a normal servant had with such a powerful Lord.
A youngling femme of non-Praxian design hurried to bring them a small tray of crusted confections, the kind that would last for orns, though Jazz was sure these were perfectly fresh. She offered the tray to Jazz, her entire frame almost vibrating with excitement at being permitted to serve the Lord Heir and his intended.
::She's expecting you to carry them,:: Prowl gave him a quick databurst.
Jazz took them easily, his easy expression encouraging and bringing a little extra brightness to her optics as she bowed and just kept from bouncing away.
Balancing the tray easily he looked to Prowl, helm tilting a little in question as to where the Praxian would like to refuel. Without a word Prowl turned and led his intended towards their quarters. Only once they were clear of the service areas of the building did the mech speak.
"We have the remainder of the orn free, except for supper. What would you like to do?"
"I would like to share these with you, since there is far too many for one mech to consume." Jazz nodded to the tray in his hands before hesitating for a moment. "Then...I believe I would like some time to think."
"That is agreeable," Prowl said, allowing them fall into silence as they made their way to their suites and the common space between them.
Jazz placed the tray on the table, settling himself and waiting for Prowl to choose first. He noted the Praxian's preferences, that Prowl seemed to like strong, somewhat acidic flavors. He found himself actually just enjoying the quiet and the peacefulness of sitting there, so different from the life he had known. Prowl was relaxed and calm, the quite between them lacking in the tension of unspoken things.
He found himself thinking he could really get used to this kind of quiet.
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The Military Lord and the Hero's Creation