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Alastir stared at the figure in front of him, watching as his plating seemed to flare up and as his optics fluttered open. The grounder took a step back, kneeling before the mech as he woke up.
He maintained the gesture a little longer than necessary, although considering who he was doing it to, he didn't mind the strain on his joints at all.
"Rise, Alastir," the charismatic, familiar voice of his Lord said.
The blue-colored grounder stood up, optics flicking this way and that as he tried to avoid looking at his master's brilliance directly. If he looked at it for too long, he may simply overheat at the mere sight of his majestic new body.
"M-my Lord," he began, his voicebox failing him as he struggled to find the words.
His Lord affixed him with easy, comforting green optics. "Please, Alastir, you needn't fret over it. It was a success, and I lived, and now here I am, better than ever." He spread his arms out, stretching them as the wings on his back jostled from the movement. "Now, tell me, what do you think?"
Alastir took in deep intakes of air, his vents shuddering as he tried to reign in his nervousness. His Lord wasn't displeased with him at all, even with how skittish he was being over the whole thing. Finally, he looked over at his Lord's new frame, and-
"Primus…" he couldn't help but mutter, staring at the wings on his Lord's back, the new integrated weapons that his frame had to offer, the transformation seams running through the lengths of his limbs. No doubt, his Lord's new frame had more weapons hidden within. And it was a flightframe, too. No doubt that this would certainly earn him more praise and awe in the public eye.
The colony of Erisia had always been seen as weak, due to the frame that his Lord had been sparked in. Even with the ore that was exclusive to it, even with all the advancements that the colony had in its technology thanks to his Lord, it was still seen as nothing more than a backwater scrapheap compared to the others.
Perhaps now that his Lord looked more regal, and now that he looked like he was capable of fending off would-be invaders himself (he was already capable of it before, but he had almost no integrated weaponry or thick armor plating to protect himself, which contributed to the others viewing him as a weak, puny scientist), they would begin to take him and his colony a little more seriously.
"My Lord…" Alastir mumbled. The Duke laughed, reaching out for his face with a gray servo. Numbly, he took his hand, squeezing it tightly and marveling at how much stronger his Lord's grip felt.
The flightframe nuzzled against his helm, deliberately scraping some of his fresh, green paint onto his blue chassis as he whispered, "Yes?" in that wonderful, staticky purr that he very much enjoyed the sound of.
"You're…" Alastir turned his helm to stare at his Lord's expression, red optics meeting green as their faceplates nearly met and as he finally found the words.
"You're beautiful."
The Duke smiled softly at him, venting out as he held the back of his helm in his servo. "So are you, my most loyal Pathfinder."
The two simply stared at each other, their temperatures rising as their vents began to shudder.
"...Shall we… merge again? The bond may need some bolstering after such a drastic frame change…"
The blue grounder knew that the bond didn't need any strengthening. It was still as strong as ever. But still, he replied, "Yes, my Lord. That does seem like a logical decision."
Because really, nothing felt better than a good spark merge after everything that they had both went through today. His Lord came out of the reformatting alive and well, and his new frame was perfect … Why shouldn't they celebrate their good fortune with a good fra- merge ?
Primus , Alastir thought as he was led to his Lord's berth. I feel so blessed…