The Fall and Rise of An Ancient (GOTP story)

1. The Last Fall I Remember

Megatron had never been known to have the best luck when it came to his destiny being played out...

His life had started in the dark, unforgiving world of Cybertron's lower districts. A miner, then a gladiator. He was considered the lowest of the low, trash by the upper castes' standards, but he made a vow to prove them wrong. A vow to improve the lives of every cybertronian oppressed by the system... but somewhere, he lost his way.

He didn't realize he had for a very long time, or perhaps he did and was too stubborn, too deep to feel that it was possible to go back. His plan for peace and prosperity led to ruin, and he'd thrown all of the blame onto his first and possibly only true friend.

War blinded his mind, rage clouded his thinking... and when clarity finally came... It was at the hands of the devil himself.

Megatron looked up and saw that in his efforts to remove the oppression from his world... He himself had become the oppressor. His world was destroyed, their race on the brink of extinction... He couldn't live with that knowledge, he had been disgraced, and only death could remove such a stain.

If only death wasn't so hard to come by for him.

He exiled himself to the stars, hoping to find someone or something that could extinguish his spark. But the blood of Unicron himself flowed through his body; it could revive the dead, but also kept the former tyrant from finding death himself, even when he relished the thought of it.

Over time, he lost track of how many collisions with moons, asteroids and other space debris he had suffered, and yet his life refused to go. He'd run out of energon long ago and yet was still floating along. He'd even tried luring an energon eater he'd encountered to take him, but it seemed less than interested in the Dark Energon he had to offer. Even if he did find some way to end himself, he would not be one with the Allspark. There was no way Primus would let such a tainted, poisoned spirit into its fold again...

Life was pain and suffering, and he deserved it.

But then, after possibly years of this endless torment... Something changed.

His latest crash had not been planned, merely the result of him getting knocked within the gravitational pull of a nearby planetoid.

He was irritated but not surprised when he regained consciousness, or at least... He wasn't surprised by surviving.

He'd grown used to waking in craters of his own making, climbing out of them and moving on; but this time, when his optics came back online, he was in no crater... He was in a room, with clear-cut walls and roof made of stone, and banners decorating the slats that let in light from the sun.

His frame ached, and creaked loudly as he forced himself to sit up. His helm spun from the movement, and he lifted a hand to it with a groan.

Then a trill sound came from his right, and he opened one optic to look.
Standing in the doorway to the room was a being, probably not much taller than Megatron's waist. Colorful, woven material draped over their body, but even so, Megatron could see familiar metal arms and legs, shifting plating, and the familiar glow of optics under their hooded cloak; they were cybertronian, or at least a being similar in form.

They said something with excitement, and then scrambled off down the corridor.

Megatron blinked, but groaned as even that hurt. In all of his bad luck, somehow it seemed to be that he'd been rescued and brought back to relative health. Scrud.

He found himself lying on a berth, with a table set at the bottom for his pedes to compensate for his larger form. A light blanket was draped over his body, one that he quickly threw away. He needed to get out of this place, but which way?