Jörmungandr
By SMYGO4EVA

United we stand….

Divided, they fall

The Autobots…

They are nothing.

Every last one of them…

"One shall stand, one shall fall."

The words continue to haunt the mech for many solar cycles-he's no longer a mech now, no, but Optimus Prime still saw visions of those words.

In these dreams, Optimus made sure never to kill Megatron, hoping to bring who he had once called a brother to the light, not before the tyrant would try to extinguish his spark.

Not because of this; this nightmare was private, and not to be discussed with the rest of his team.

Megatron had nightmares, and they are loud and full of pain. There were of those accursed times as a gladiator, fighting for the Cybertronians' sheer enjoyment of blood-sport Acid rain fell from the gray skies and his own energon was upon him, biting into his plating and armor, until he was almost nothing to them. He drowned in loathing and guilt, and he couldn't help but wonder what would have become of him if he was still a gladiator of Kaon.

So he gave what he can, what he can afford to give-his spark was in fragments, but he remembered that some things were not so fragile as one thought, and that only the strongest survive in a forgotten universe. He kept his own beating spark cold and twisted, so no one would cut him open and leave him for scrap.

No matter how dark the skies may be upon Cybertron, Optimus knew that a Prime would always remain noble and kind, defending the weak and protecting those that others hold dear. The Prime held to a code of honor that most would cave under: this knight, however-this knight Optimus would protect as much as he can because he knows that there are some enemies that even the chivalrous couldn't defeat.

But he could.

Though he be a Prime, Optimus weathered through his own nightmares alone because, while Megatron was not too tormented by the deaths that he had caused, the other dreamed again and again of the sparks that he was too weak to save. As the leader of the Decepticons, Megatron never had to worry about his dreams when he awoke: the dead are truly dead and truly gone forever. They only come to visit in the recharge hours, and all Megatron had are memories-and Optimus.

And Optimus stayed, night after night, and he remains vigilant of his own team, playing the knight once again and thinking many thoughts. He would want to make sure that Megatron never allowed himself to drown. That in the goodness of his spark, Megatron would continue on, despite the pain, despite the guilt, despite his hatred because Optimus will allow for nothing else.

Megatron….

Megatron watched him from a distance.

He could see Optimus' arm tighten as he began to cut his enemies down, tearing deeply into the chaises, spilling their lives onto his throat, a chuckle rising from his throat—it never ceased to amaze him how graceful and brutal Optimus has become in all of megacycles of this never-ending battle.

They fought, mercilessly for all these eons, while Optimus grew tired of the perpetual conflict, Megatron in turn relished in their duels. Optimus became looking more and more enduring and willing to forsake his own well being to end the war, while Megaton became all talons, teeth and crazed, hungry eyes ready and willing to rip to shreds anything that dared to bind him.

His smile grew even wider.

Optimus, you will be mine soon, in this never-ending battle….

To fall, as Optimus soon learned, with a cold shudder, is to be strangled by his enemy's whipping chains and unbending iron that clasps around his throat, in Megatron's throes of mad dominance, all for the sake of this accursed war, as he tore into abiding and endless oblivion.

The beast roared in triumph.

Even though he hid it well, Optimus saw flashes of madness in Megatron's actions every now and then. Whether it was the manic gleam in his eyes or his tendency for obsessive behaviors that his warriors' edge created, he knew that the tyrant wouldn't try to control his impulses.

The tyrant's whispered words were in his audio receptors, his claws on red plating. It was poison burning through his veins, but hi bit his lip plates to keep from screaming. A cruel mouth swallows his breath.

He was almost dark, his voice came, but it wasn't even his own anymore. It sounded deep and menacing, and ice cold when Optimus told Megatron.

"You can never have my spark."

"I'm not afraid of you, Megatron."

He was lying.

The tyrant could feel the Prime's pulse spike underneath the pad of his claws as he traced it along the sharp line of neck cables. He had to admit that the Prime had phenomenal stoicism.

"It seems that you're not as strong as you thought you were, Prime." Megatron noticed that the Prime's optics dulled slightly under his gaze.

"You're in the dark about your destiny, aren't you, Optimus? I could just rip out your accursed spark right here and now, but I need you alive. I want you alive."

"Why?" The Prime's voice was brittle, hollow.

"...sentimental reasons," The tyrant replied, leaning in towards Optimus' audio receptors.

"Curse you to the Pit, Megatron."

"Gladly."

You have been dead since the day you were created by the AllSpark.

Optimus lived in his nightmares, day after day after day, upon Earth. He remembers them each time he looked across the barrier as Megatron did not look up at him, did not react to him at all, his shoulders an edge so sharp the Prime could feel it feeling cutting into him.

He remembered wanting to throw something at him, to yell something to his old friend turned long-time enemy, make him turn and face him, but his words never came out as he wanted them to when angry.

Branded an outcast, branded a traitor, and a branded revolutionary, Optimus called himself the last of the Primes because he was-and will one day become-nothing to both Cybertron and Earth.

He was near the end.

Megatron would forget his demons, should he one day choose to finally let them go.

Optimus would never have that option because he had become that very same demon: he's broken every mirror around him because every single time he looks into the glass; all he sees are blood-red optics.

Optimus would have become a king so that he would smash to pieces everything that he had finally gained.

Optimus was not dead, yet he was nothing.

He had allowed himself to die so that his team, his comrades, and his human allies can live on, walking over his grave to face the dawn of a better tomorrow. He broke both worlds with the infinite possibilities that are created. Optimus called himself the last of the Primes because one doesn't remember something that never existed in the first place.

He knew that the dead would eventually be forgotten.

Optimus was still waiting for that day to come.