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sanjuno · 6 years

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transformers. hardmode: 'just nuke it' isn't an option

3/7 GoT Crossover Fix-Its: A Transformation of Fire and Ice

Starscream had drifted for so long, a bodiless spark lost in the vast void between stars. It had taken him vorns on vorns to find his way back to Cybertron. Only when he finally reached his home planet once again, it had been changed. Utterable, unrecognizably altered from the shining golden gem Starscream remembered from the best of his memories. Something had terraformed Cybertron into a technoouganic state… what could have happened? Still, Primus is there. Slumbering as his children live out their lives on his outer plating. Aware, just enough, to catch Starscream’s spark in his orbit and speak to him. To send this wayward child of his on to find peace.

So it’s Starscream who wakes up first, calling for his wingmates to join him. Lord Primus had promised that they would be together once again. Starscream breaks through the shell of his gestation pod looses a vocalization of triumph. There is air on his wings again. He is alive, and he is free.

Unicron’s grasp on their sparks had been tight, and inescapable. They had been lucky to die on Cybertron’s surface, where Primus could catch them up before the Pit could take them. It had taken vorns on vorns to pry Unicron’s corruption out of their sparks. But at last, at last, Skywarp and Thundercracker were free of any hint of Cyclonus and Scourge. Then Starscream was there, their bright and shining wingleader. No longer maddened and caged, but lonesome and longing. That same brilliant star they had bound their fortunes to a lifetime ago.

Primus freed them. Primus gave them back to one another, and sent them onwards with a gentle admonishment to “do better against the Unmaker this time.”

Skywarp and Thundercracker break through the shell of their gestation pods, hearing Starscream calling for them. Different, so different, but still familiar. Still the song they will follow as they dance on the winds. There is air on their wings again, and their trine leader is waiting for them. They live again, and they are free.

They are meatbags. Creatures of flesh and blood and disgusting biological functions. Starscream can only be glad that they still have wings, and they are not forced to live with human shells. Memories of Earth had provided them with the name of their new forms even before the human woman tending to them spoke the word aloud. Dragons, fearsome flying monsters capable of breathing fire. She was hideous, the way all humans were, but her hair was the same shining silver Starscream’s plating used to be, and her eyes were Skywarp’s violet. She called them her children, and Starscream could only assume that Lord Primus was teaching them a lesson, giving them a human genetrix.

Starscream would not forget his mission. There were forces of the Unmaker growing on this world, and the Trine had been incarnated here to battle them.

Daenerys Targaryen had expected her children to be wild and unruly, to mimic her brother’s temperament. She had expected to need to reinforce her authority and bring them to heel. Instead her children were fastidious (especially Drogon) and well mannered. They seemed to know all the combat commands already, and sometimes… sometimes Daenerys thought they were trying to speak back.

Practice. Starscream had told them as they followed Genetrix from city to city, from battle to battle. We need to practice in these new bodies. Vorns of combat experience were useless unless they knew exactly what their new shells were capable of. So they followed their Genetrix into combat, protecting her because they were only three and Seekers did not do well alone. (Perhaps one day Genetrix would hatch more of their kin? Three Seekers against the forces of the Unmaker seemed… uneven. Lord Primus must have something more planned.) They broke the chains and tore down the walls, and Starscream cackled as their enemies burned. It was not the revolution they had joined the Decepticons for, but it was similar enough in principle to ignite their combat drives.

Genetrix spoke the Cant of Vos like a sparkling with a crushed vocalizer, but she was getting better. Perhaps soon she would start listening and see what they were trying to tell her.

Ratchet wakes up with Primus’ voice ringing in his audial, just in time to see Wheeljack tear the throat out of a massive stag. Ratchet blinks, tilts his head as he takes in the fact that Wheeljack is a wolf, and so is he, and then the contractions start. Ratchet had spent enough time on Earth to understand how mammalian births worked, but he did not appreciate having to go through it himself. Wheeljack dances from paw to paw, distressed about not being able to help. Then there are human voices exclaiming in shock.

A winter stag lies dead across the road, apparently dragged there by the grey direwolf pacing circles around the lighter grey direwolf bitch labouring in the thicket nearby. Robb and Jon are shouting at Theon and the guardsmen to put their bows down they will not see violence done to the sigil of House Stark. Ned Stark can only stare as the male whines in distress, trotting up to his side like a well trained hound and nudging him with a damp nose. Ned was reasonably certain that this was not how wild animals were supposed to act when a human intruded on a birth.

Still. The boys had the right of it. This was his House Sigil, and the Old Gods could, at times, be very blunt. Ned knelt down by the labouring bitch, and she rolled her eyes at him, seemingly dismissed him, and then snarled a warning at Jory Cassel when the man tried to approach. The male proceeded to shove Ned’s sons over to his side, and then sat down between the bitch and the rest of the men. There was an obvious bias at work here. Ned ordered the men back, and beckoned his sons closer.

Six pups were born there on the side of the Kingsroad, less than an hours ride from Winterfell. Four male, two female, and Ned could see the shape of the Old God’s intent even if the message was yet unclear. The direwolf parents were content to sniff their pups and rest while the humans butchered the Stag that blocked their path. The male wolf snatched up liver and heart to offer to his mate, panting happily as they were quickly consumed. Robb, Jon, and Bran started offering scraps of their own to the wolf parents, grinning wide each time the morsel was accepted.

Ned had no idea how he was going to explain this to Cat, but the Old Gods had spoken. Ned had the feeling they were going to be following him home to Winterfell.

Ironhide is a dark grey male, Prowl is a white male, Red Alert is a pale grey female, Brawn is a dark grey female, Trailbreaker is a blue ticked male, and Windcharger is a black male. All are complaining mightily about being blind and helpless. Ratchet is still cursing the fact that he’s a nursing mammal. Wheeljack is delighted by the chance to experience a biological existence. It’s only the fact that Primus gave them orders about getting this world ready to fight off the Unmaker’s invasion that they are accepting their situation with any sort of equanimity.

When the humans are done cleaning up the Stag and lashing it to their horses, Ratchet heaves himself up to his feet. Prowl is handed over to the dark haired human boy who feels right. Ironhide is dumped on the older red-headed boy, and Trailbreaker given to the younger who squeals in glee. Windcharger is placed in the hands of the oldest right-feeling human, who is likely the father of the three boys. Ratchet picks up Red Alert, ignoring the way he’s howling about the indignity, and Wheeljack scoops up Brawn.

Catelyn is… not pleased is perhaps an understatement. But the direwolves are there to stay as much as Jon Snow is, and she cannot budge Ned on this issue. Then Jon Arryn dies and there is no more time to debate the issue, because the king is on his way to Winterfell. Cat’s feelings about the direwolves undergoes a drastic change when the adult female takes to fetching Bran down off the walls. She’s big enough to pick Bran up by the belt and carry him like one of her pups, so the boy really has little choice but to get carried away from dangerous situations. Cat could do without the tooth holes in Bran’s clothes, but she can replace a shirt. She can’t replace her son.

Ratchet comes charging around the side of the Broken Tower when Trailbreaker starts howling. Bran is climbing the side of the tower, perhaps seeking a wall and a height that is out of Ratchet’s reach. But Bran is human, with a human’s senses. He can’t hear, can’t smell, what’s going on at the top of the tower. And human taboos, and what people do to keep power, mean that Bran is in danger from more than just loose stones. He reaches the window, and sees the Queen and Kingslayer coupling. See Jaime tosses Bran from the tower. Ratchet powers up the wall, claws digging into stone as he pushes off. Leaps. Catches the boy by the upper arm and tastes blood. This was going to hurt them both, but at least Bran is no longer plummeting straight down. A broken arm or dislocated shoulder would heal, even in this primitive world. A broken back or fractured skull would kill.

Cersei and Jaime run, but they can’t run faster than Bran’s voice. He’s leaning on the direwolf bitch as he stumbles out into the main courtyard. Blood runs freely down his arm but he’s ignoring it, Summer howling fit to raise the dead at his heels. Bran’s screaming that the Kingslayer threw him off the top to the Tower. “Father, father come quickly, the Queen is laying with the Kingslayer! She ordered me thrown from the Tower!” Cersei and Jaime are dragged before the King in chains, still sporting the evidence of their previous activities.

Robert is raging. His is the fury. Ned’s anger is ice and the howl of a winter blizzard. Cersei and Jaime have no hope of escape. Ned mentions the letter from Lysa, claiming Jon Arryn’s death was no illness. Was this why they killed him? Had their foster father discovered to truth? Targaryen madness and inbreeding would not be allowed to claim the Iron Throne again. The children’s legitimacy is brought into question. All Lannister, with nothing of that Baratheons in them. Cersei’s word on their parentage is worthless. How to prove that they’re Robert’s seed?

It’s Sansa who answers. “Lady, show me Starks.” The direwolf pup trots from Sansa, to Ned, to Robb, to Jon, to Arya, to Bran, to Rickon, then returns to Sansa’s side. “Lady, show me Tullys.” The direwolf pup goes from Sansa, to Catelyn, to Robb, to Arya, to Bran, to Rickon, and then back to Sansa’s side. “Lady, show me Lannisters.” The direwolf pup circles Jaime and Cersei, moves from Joffrey, to Myrcella, to Tommon, and actually pauses to lick Tyrion’s hand. The silence in the Great Hall of Winterfell is ringing with tension. Sansa looks from the furious, terrified Queen to the wild-eyed face of Sansa’s betrothed, and has the sinking she already knows what will happen next. “Lady… show me Baratheons.” Lady goes to Robert’s side. And stays there, head on the King’s knee.

The Queen’s children are bastards. All three of them. The King has no heirs. The political fallout is… extensive. Jaime and Cersei are condemned for treason, beheaded by Robert himself, and their bones are shipped to Casterly Rock. Tyrion skips his visit to the Wall to accompany his niece and nephews back to the Rock with their… parents bones. A proclamation goes out to every noble house in the Seven Kingdoms, containing the details of Cersei’s infidelity and the true parentage of her children. Pycelle loses his position as Grand Maester for his failure to detect Jon Arryn’s poisoning. Lysa is ordered to return to the Red Keep with Robin, because Robert wants his foster father’s heir to be raised properly. No more coddling. Lysa’s refusal to obey Robert gets her dragged out of the Ayrie by Brynden Tully, at which point the truth depth of her mental instability is discovered. Robin is made Stannis’ ward in the hopes that he can inject some sanity into the boy.

The wolves eventually learn to speak to their human partners, kind of like a Headmaster bond. (Not that any of them know what a Headmaster is, but the concept is solid.) Huffer shows up at the side of Benjen Stark and is very much done with all of them and their nonsense. At least he got the Stark that didn’t bother with stupid human politics. They’re dragging a caged Wright with them because hey look. It’s the forces of the Unmaker.

Daeneyrs Targaryen lands in a Westros that is busy gearing up for a long winter. For a second Long Night, and the war against the Others that will come with it. She lands in Westros expecting to need to fight for the Iron Throne but people are looking at her funny. Because there are more important things to be getting on with. Dorne might support her, but Oberyn got dragged in front of the Wright Cage by Barristan Selmy and told to “get his priorities straight. His sister is dead, but his daughters live. Choose.” Which Barristan thinks is only justice, given the rumours about how Oberyn met his eldest daughter. So Dorne is, for the moment, more concerned with the looming zombie apocalypse.

There are betrothals being forged and marriages happening with rapid speed, because the Houses need their inheritance secured and as many spare heirs as possible, given that many Houses are still recovering from the loses to their numbers during Robert’s Rebellion it’s needed. The Cybertronians don’t really care about human bloodline continuity, but marriages mean babies mean more bodies in the human population. Given that the humans are the ones who’ll be fighting the War against the Unmaker’s forces they’re all in support of the humans breeding as rapidly as possible.

Of course Starscream recognizes Jon Snow for what he is when he and his wingmates land with their Genetrix. Skywarp is honestly enamoured with Robert, because the man has the kind of attitude Skywarp likes. Thundercracker stays by their Genetrix, because she still needs protecting. Meanwhile, Starscream and Prowl are making plans for how to drive back the Unmaker’s undead army.

Ghost and Drogon loom over the maps and exchange growls. Jon Stark (formerly Snow, although Robert couldn’t bare to leave him a bastard with the Direwolf driving home his claim to the Stark blood) has a very odd look on his face while he details battle plans. Not like a man coming up with the ideas himself, but like he’s translating a conversation between two people.

Magic. Robert snorts. Magic, and the Old Gods. Ned agrees in amusement, Frost and Fyre seated on either side of him. It’s all Epic Battles and brotherhood in arms from there.

#Sanjuno's ficwork #GoT reincarnation crossovers #TF fanfic #When your Familiar has a higher Wisdom score than you do

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