Regality (A TFP Predacon story)

Five

The femme was given some energon, which had to be injected into her since she was in recharge. Any injuries she received from the fight were patched up, apart from one: her tail fin. It was one of the key parts that allowed her to fly, and Predaking could tell she was fast. If she could fly away, then he would never get to convince her to join the Decepticons. So for now, the fin stayed off, at least until she was microchipped.

Shockwave worked at his computer, entering his newfound data into the database. At the other end of the lab, Predaking watched over the femme as she rested. He wondered what her designation was.

When the femme inevitably woke up, Predaking knew he may have to fight her in order the gain her submission. From what he had seen, she was the fighter type. She was strong for a femme, but not as strong as him.

She made a soft whimper in her sleep and shifted slightly. She was dreaming. Predaking thought it was cute. Again, he wondered what she was dreaming about. Perhaps life in a prehistoric Cybertron?

The door slid open and Megatron entered with Starscream at his heels. Predaking lifted his head and looked over, nodding to his master before looking back over to the femme.

"Interesting to be able to lay eyes on something so prehistoric yet so new." The warlord commented, walking over to where the two predacons lay.

He eyed the femme for a moment.

"I take it that you are most delighted to have a companion at long last." He said to Predaking.

The king nodded once in reply.

"Report to me once she has awoken," Megatron ordered, "I expect her to be under your command as soon as possible, and to be trained at once."

Predaking nodded once more and the warlord left.

Starscream took a look at the femme as well, "Hopefully this beast will be easier to tame..." he muttered, then followed his master out of the laboratory.

Predaking stayed and continued to wait. He would need the time to think of what to say to the femme, to try and explain to her what had happened to their kind and what was occurring now, as well as how she could help them... and him.

—

Hours passed, and Predaking still stayed put. Patiently, he waited. And finally, the moment he had been waiting for was coming to fruition.

The femme stirred in her rest. He stood up, straightening, wanting to appear strong, and perhaps, appealing to her. He wished to show her who was in charge. The boss, the Alpha. He wished to gain her interest and favor. To have someone to rule over. To have a companion after so long of being alone...

The femme groaned out of grogginess, and her optics were slowly opening, fluttering to complete her transition out of sleep. She lifted her helm and looked around, optics half-lidded and tired.

Predaking watched her study her surroundings. His watch only lasted a few short seconds, for the femme became aware of the large mech's presence rather quickly. Her helm snapped to face him and she growled lowly a warning. Her metal muscles tensed and her fangs were bared at him. She had no memory of their previous encounter. Predaking was fascinated with how willing she was to fight even in her weakened state.

Predaking growled in response, louder and meaning to sound more dominant. He lowered his head slightly, took a step forward, and showed his sharp denta.

"Stand down." He ordered.

"Why should I? Your not my alpha." She snapped back, "You haven't earned the title."

Slowly, the femme rose to her pedes. She stood shakily, unbalanced from her injured tail, once again surprising Predaking with her ambition to fight even though she had little chance at winning.

"I'll show you who's the Alpha here!" He growled back.

"We'll see about that." She responded, readying her battle stance.

Predaking snarled and lunged at her, catching her by surprise. Her attempts to bite him back, in vain. He had the unfair advantage of both size and strength in addition to perfect health, unlike the femme. The king had her pinned down in mere seconds, his jaws encasing her neck and pressing it onto the ground.

"...I submit." The femme said in defeat after a few moments of pointless struggle.

"Submit to whom?" Predaking demanded.

"To you, Alpha." She added reluctantly.

"Good." He released her, "I am not just your Alpha, but your king as well! I expect you will do well to remember that from now on."

"Yes, Al- my king." She said.

Earning another predacon's submission made his ego sky-rocket. He was as proud as ever with himself, but he kept his cool. He wanted to charm the femme, not annoy her.

"Tell me: what is your designation? To what do you respond to?" He inquired, backing out I give her space.

The femme rolled onto her belly again, continuing to lay on the ground with her head up.

She thought for a beat as if remembering the last time she had heard her own designation. Then she turned to him with her answer, "My name is Mavra."

———

Mavra

MA-vv-ra

A Russian name meaning "dark"