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Cybertron is a vast world of metal and has little in the way of seas and oceans, but there are a few great bodies of water on that hard world, and the deepest of these is the Mithril Sea. Far down below the waves, living in secret, is Praxus, the sprawling undersea city-state of the mermecha.
The city is ruled over by a monarch, and this old mech had six creations. All were beautiful and intelligent, and the youngest, Prowl, most of all. Prowl was also the most curious of the siblings and often swam through palace gardens of crystal and coral, gazing up through the waves. The city was down so far sunlight did not reach, but Prowl had heard tales from his elder siblings. There was a tradition amongst the royal mermecha that they might travel to the surface to see the world above for themselves when they reached their maturity.
Prowl loved nothing more than to hear about the land-dwellers, those strange mecha who often went about on two legs and lived in the air. He often begged his grand-creator, who had travelled there more often than any other mermecha now functioning, to tell him all she knew of it. His grand-creator indulged him and told him about great cities and highways, the sunlight, and the vehicles that swam through the sky. Prowl wanted very much to see it for himself but was told to be patient.
"When you reach your maturity," his grand-creator told him, "you'll be able to go to the surface as often as you like. You'll see all of this too."
But Prowl had more years yet to wait before he reached his maturity. Five of them, and during that time, he had to watch each of his siblings make the trip he longed to make. Each promised to tell him what they saw, but their stories only made him want to go even more.
The eldest sibling reached maturity and went to the surface. He had gone up at night, and he told his siblings about the moons shining high above and a land-dweller city shining bright on the shore. Prowl memorized every word, and whenever he looked up through the water, he thought about the city and the moons and the stars.
Next was the second eldest, who came back with tales of the beauty of the sunset, how the horizon had turned bright with different colours and a flock of goshenite-gulls flying toward it. He had followed them, curious, until the sun was gone and the sky was black with the night again. Prowl thought about birds and tried to imagine what they were like. He thought they must be like the schools of fishes that swam over and around and through the castle gardens.
When the third sibling's turn came, he swam not only to the ocean's surface but up the length of a tidal river. He saw great buildings with ornate terraces running down to the water. He heard the chatter of the mecha on the terraces and even saw a group of them dancing, a strange sight as they only moved back and forth and side to side and not up and down too. When he was alone, Prowl practiced dancing by moving only back and forth and side to side and found it very strange indeed.
Prowl's fourth sibling had little interest in going near land or chasing sunsets. He had gone though, surfacing far from shore, and was impressed by how far you could see. He had seen ships far away on the horizon and a pod of warwhales surfacing and spouting great fountains of water into the air. Prowl had seen and swum with warwhales, but he had never seen them spout and longed to see it for himself.
The fifth sibling made his journey in the winter, the only one to have come online in that season. He had climbed up and sat upon an iceberg and watched the land-dwellers' ships sail ponderously by in the distance. He saw more great icebergs gleaming in the cold winter sunlight and drifting slowly through the water. A storm had come up at nightfall, and he had stayed upon the iceberg and watched the lightning flash and ground itself out in the sea. Prowl only knew of lightning from his grand-creator's stories and now his siblings' and wished he could see a storm for himself.
Prowl's siblings would often go to the surface together, and he, being too young, must stay behind. Each cycle, he calculated the time until his maturity was reached, dreaming of all the things he might hear and see and learn. It seemed as if it took forever, but at last, it was reached, and the welds from his upgrades had barely cooled before he was pleading to be let go to the surface.
"Here we are at last," his grand-creator said. "Here, let me dress you for your first visit to the surface as I did your siblings."
Prowl's helm was draped in jewelled netting, and eight large oilsters were allowed to magnetize themselves to his tail to show how highly ranked he was.
"But it's awkward to swim that way," Prowl protested, for the oilsters interrupted his sleek lines.
"Yes," his grand-creator acknowledged, "but one must sometimes endure a good deal to do as we wish."
Prowl would have removed all of these accessories gladly, but he was too eager to see the surface to want to put it off any longer. Instead, he said his good-byes and sped off toward the realm he had so long desired to see. When Prowl broke the surface, the sun had only just set, but the fading light painted the clouds in red and orange, and the stars were just beginning to peep out. The air, which Prowl had never felt before, carried the tang of salt, and the sea was calm. Not very far away was a large ship, a thing Prowl had only ever seen from the bottom before. From the ship came the sounds of instruments and singing. As Prowl watched, hundreds of lights of many colours were lit, as were the portholes along the hull.
This was exactly the sort of thing Prowl had wanted to see, and, curious, he swam right up to the ship until he could see into the main cabin with each bob of the ship into the waters. There was an assembly of land-dwellers inside, their gleaming polish shining brightly in the light. Prowl found them all quite attractive, even though they lacked tails. The most attractive of all was the one who seemed to be the focus of all the attention, a mech as black-and-white as Prowl himself with blue and red stripes on his chest. Prowl could not be sure of the glyphs on the mech's shoulders but thought they identified him as a prince. After a time, the prince and his entourage went up on deck and shortly after, bright explosions filled the night sky. In response to the noise, Prowl dove below the water for safety. But no one else seemed alarmed, and soon Prowl surfaced again and, floating on his back next to the hull, saw the pictures the explosions made in the air. None of his siblings had reported such a thing, and Prowl was so mesmerized he barely remembered to stay hidden. When at last the explosions were finished, Prowl swam a little ways away to look again at the land-dwellers on the deck. The young prince was moving among his people, laughing and clapping them on the shoulder, and at last, he took up an instrument. Prowl was as mesmerized by the prince as by the pictures painted in the sky by the rockets.
It got very, very late, and the ship's lights began to be put out and the crowd to thin. Prowl supposed the land-dwellers were all going to bed. But the sea was beginning to stir, and the wind to pick up. Vibrations ran through the waves as a thrumming sounded from within the ship, and Prowl realized that it must be the engines starting up. The land-dwellers must know the storm was coming, just as Prowl did, and seemed to be setting sail to get ahead of it. The waves rose ever higher as the ship made for the shore, washing over the deck and lashing at the sailors there. The waves grew higher still, raising the ship up one moment and dropping into the troughs the next. Prowl kept pace with the ship, thrilling with each rise and fall of his own, but the sailors were not enjoying themselves nearly so much. Nor was the poor ship: at last, it listed so severely to one side that over it went, and water began to fill it.
Prowl saw that the land-dwellers on the ship were in danger, and of course, they could not swim so well as he. He again dove below the water and gave a call summoning any of his folk who could help to come and assist them. They came without delay, many having been out enjoying the storm just as Prowl was. Prowl helped those he could, bringing land-dwellers to the surface and helping bring up lifeboats that had gotten trapped under the sinking vessel. All the time, he was looking for the young prince, knowing he must be in the midst of the disaster.
At last, Prowl found him when he was one of the last out of the ship, and a wave separated him from his fellows. Prowl was determined the prince should not offline here and so followed him. It was not easy even for Prowl, and when he found the prince, the mech was so exhausted he could not swim anymore and floated as if in a daze. Prowl pulled the prince into his arms and, tired, let the waves take them.
They drifted together throughout the night. When the sun rose, there was no sign of even a bolt of the ship. The prince remained in his daze, and Prowl could only hope that he would live. He sang softly to the prince, sweet songs from his childhood, trying to soothe them both. At last, Prowl saw dry land before him, high mountains and beautiful crystal forests, and a shallow cove with a beach covered in fine sand. A short distance from it stood a building with large arched windows, and Prowl hoped that someone might soon come from it and find the prince. He swam to the beach and, with some difficulty, pulled the prince up onto the sand, stretching him out and piling up some of the sand for a pillow. After several groons, he began to stir. Just as Prowl wondered if he should stay till the prince woke or perhaps find a way to alert someone, bells began to sound from the building.
Several mecha exited the building and headed toward the beach. Prowl could not resist saying 'farewell' aloud to the handsome prince before slipping back into the water. He found a place close by to hide and watch and make sure the prince was found. It was not long before a young mech found the prince and hurriedly called for help. Prowl watched as the prince was roused and smiled at his rescuers. Prowl was relieved that the prince seemed to have suffered no ill effects but a little sad that the smile was not for him. How could it be? The prince did not know Prowl had saved him. Prowl watched as Jazz was led into the building, and once he was gone, Prowl dove back into the water and went home to the palace under the sea.
Prowl spent many joors thinking about the young prince becoming melancholy and would not tell his siblings what made him so sad. He also went back to the surface often, still fascinated by it, and swam by the spot where he had left the prince each time. He did this for a whole stellar cycle, seeing the beach through every season, but never saw the prince. At last, the secret became too heavy, so he told it to one of his middle siblings. Of course, all four other siblings immediately knew of it, and naturally, some of their friends did too. But Prowl could not be upset over his siblings' speaking of it to others because it came about that one of the friends knew where the prince's kingdom was. Prowl was delighted to learn this, and his siblings were so happy to see him cheered that they all went up to the surface together. They floated all in a row and far enough from shore to see but not likely be seen and looked upon the prince's palace. The palace was broad and beautiful, made of shining metal with a decorated façade and long paths winding through its gardens. One such path went down to the beach. Towers rose above it all, and through the broad windows, the mermecha could see into the magnificently appointed rooms. It was as beautiful in its own way as Prowl's home beneath the sea, and he wondered what it would be like to enter it, travel its corridors, and see its galleries and gardens more closely.
Now that Prowl knew where the prince's palace was, he visited as many nights as possible. He went much closer than his siblings would. He even travelled up a stream that ran by the palace down to the ocean. There he found that he could see the prince's private terrace, and though Prowl tried not to spy upon him too often, he could not always resist the urge to look upon him. Sometimes Prowl saw the prince sail out in a boat, and he would watch it and sometimes travel in its wake, hoping to catch a closer glimpse of the young prince. During one of these trips, he, at last, learned the prince's designation: Jazz. He also overheard the sailors and the fishermen who sailed in from the day's work as evening fell speak of how good and kind the prince was.
The longer Prowl spent observing the land-dwellers, the more he came to like them and wished he could move among them. It seemed they inhabited a much bigger world than his under the sea. There were rivers, lakes, gardens of crystal, vast jungles of cable, and so many people. Prowl wanted to know everything about it, but his siblings and even his grand-creator could only tell him so much.
"Do not despair," his grand-creator said kindly. "You can find a life just as good down here — see, there is to be a court ball this evening. Go, dance and sing, and do your best to be happy as you are. That is how you will learn to be content."
Prowl was unsure of the latter part of his grand-creator's advice, but the rest he heeded, and he once again let the oilsters magnetize to him and permitted himself to be draped in even more jewelled netting. The ball was a wonderful affair, held in a vast coral and sea glass ballroom. Luminescent fish swam in shell-shaped aquariums to provide the light, and all matter of sea life could be seen outside. Mermecha sang and danced through all three dimensions. Prowl sang and danced and was applauded and, for a moment, was happy in his life under the water. But all too soon, his thoughts returned to the world above and her thoughts of the charming, kind-seeming prince. When he could, Prowl escaped into the palace gardens and sat thinking of Jazz, wondering if perhaps he too was celebrating above.
Prowl eventually went back to the ball and put on a good face, but he could not stop his thoughts, and eventually, he made up his mind to go and find his prince. He thought and thought on how he might do this and at last had a plan. On the cycle he chose to carry it out, Prowl told his siblings only that he planned to visit the surface and might stay longer than usual. They clucked and shook their heads and told him he ought to forget the prince, but they let him go nonetheless. But instead of heading straight to the surface, Prowl stayed fast to his plan and went to visit a powerful but much-feared sea witch.
Prowl had never gone to the sea witch before, though he had heard the stories since he was very young. The witch was powerful and dangerous but would give you your spark's desire, if only for a price. Prowl only knew the stories: he had never even gone close to the witch's domain. As the stories had said, no coral or crystals grew there, nor even the hardiest and least appetizing of seaweeds. The sands were gray, and the witch's cave was surrounded by treacherous currents that might swiftly drag the unwary down into the crushing depths. Prowl carefully threaded his way through these currents, then through the murky waters bordering the witch's underwater forest. This forest was not made of seaweed or other plants but strange half-mechanimal, half-organic creatures rooted in place. The witch's house was in the centre of this, and Prowl had to pass these bizarre polyps to get to it. The polyps had long arms with spindly, grasping fingers like squirming pale worms, and whatever they caught, they never let go. It seemed to Prowl that every one of them had something; treasure, debris, parts of ships and other polyps, and the rusting, decayed structures of hapless mecha. He even, though he did not like to look too closely, saw the remains of a mermecha. Still, Prowl did not abandon his plan. He made himself as small as he could, fins and arms held tight to his body, and went swiftly between the polyps along a path just wide enough they could not catch at him if he kept fast to the middle.
Prowl emerged into a large clearing, in the midst of which was a house lit from within by a strange greenish light. Hesitantly, he approached the house and saw that the door was opened. Still, Prowl paused on the threshold and did not enter. There was no sign of life within, but Prowl heard a low cackle from inside, and a voice bid him enter, which, cautiously, Prowl did.
"Well, well, well," said a voice from the rafters, where it was so dark Prowl could not see the witch. "A little mermech, come to visit. So, do you want to go live on the surface and be with your prince? It's a bit difficult when you only have a tail, isn't it?"
Hearing the witch tell Prowl of the reason for his visit made him uneasy for he could not see how the witch knew. But the stories all told of the witch's unpredictability, so Prowl asked no questions, lest he be made to leave with nothing.
"It is," Prowl admitted. "But I have little choice: I must give up our secret or live without him, and I cannot risk everyone else with the former."
"Hmm…" A great sea spider descended from the rafters. "But you know there are rumours, don't you? Especially after that rescue you staged."
"Rumours are not fact," Prowl countered. "And it will only be said that the mecha were delirious from danger and thought they saw things they did not."
"True, true, heh heh." The sea spider landed lightly on the floor. "So you've come to Tarantulas to help you out, have you? Give you some way to live on land? Well, aren't you in luck? You've come at just the right time. I have one left, but I will require, heh heh, payment."
"One what?" Prowl asked.
"Why, a transformation cog, of course," Tarantulas said, and, just like that, the sea spider changed and became a mermech like Prowl. "So you can change and have two legs, just like your precious prince. The one I have will only permit a single transformation, so you will not be able to change back. It will not be a pleasant thing to endure. Are you willing to suffer all this for, heh heh, love?"
Prowl thought of the prince, all the wonderful things he saw on the surface and how much he longed to be a part of that life.
"Yes," Prowl said with as much certainty as possible, though his voice still trembled.
"Very well," Tarantulas said, nodding. "But remember, you'll never transform back into your root mode once you've done this. You'll never be able to return home to your creator's palace. And if you don't manage to make the prince fall in love with you, you'll be trapped there on the land nonetheless."
Prowl had already known this, but hearing it spoken so boldly made him tremble anew. But his spark was set on this course, so he determined he would accept the risk.
"What is it you wish in trade?" Prowl asked, and he only hoped he could pay it, for he had brought little with him for his journey here.
"Why, only your voice," Tarantulas said, and Prowl put a hand to his throat. "I will remove your voice box and mute your comms in exchange for a new, one-use T-cog that will let you live on the land. Surely that's not too much for the life of your dreams, now, is it?"
"But, if I cannot speak to the prince — "
"Oh, there are other ways to enchant a mech," Tarantulas said breezily. "Now, I'm a busy witch, and I have things to do and places to go. So, tell me: what will it be? Your voice and your dreams or a prince-less life under the sea?"
Prowl lifted his chin proudly. "I accept your terms."
Tarantulas chuckled. "Excellent. This way…"
As bad as the forest had been, the witch's innermost chamber was worse, and Prowl resolved not to look too closely at the jars and containers on the shelves. There was a dry section in the witch's laboratory, and it was here that Prowl laid himself down and came back online without his voice.
"There, now," Tarantulas said and handed Prowl a shining jewel. "Take this beacon, and my pets outside won't bother you. Off you go, up to the surface, and best of, heh heh heh, luck with your prince."
Prowl nodded once and left as quickly as he had come. The polyps outside shied away from the light, and he could leave the witch's domain far, far faster than he had entered it. He took the most direct route to the land, not returning for even a glimpse of his creator's palace lest he be found and taken back. The night was still dark when he found himself once more in view of the prince's palace. This time, Prowl did not merely gaze from afar but approached, beaching himself upon the shore. He pulled himself up the sand until he was out of reach of the tide and then activated the transformation cog.
It hurt, it hurt horribly, and Prowl's mouth opened in a silent scream as his internals twisted and changed. Falling offline was a blessed relief, and when he woke, he ached down to his very struts, but he immediately forgot that because in front of him was the prince. Shyly looking away, Prowl saw that his tail had been replaced by a pair of legs, and despite the pain, he felt a thrill at knowing he could now blend in on the land.
Jazz asked Prowl who he was and what had happened that he was lying alone on the beach. Prowl looked at him and wished he could simply say, but he could not. That was the bargain he had made with the witch. Jazz seemed to look at Prowl's throat and frown but said nothing, only helping Prowl to his feet and guiding him to the palace. Prowl's legs trembled, but Jazz said nothing of it. No doubt the prince thought it only from hunger or injury and not that Prowl had never walked before, nor from the thrill of being near the mech he had wanted for so long.
The first place the prince brought Prowl to was the castle infirmary, but while the good nurse who was there did what she could, it was clear Prowl had been the victim of recent surgery. The nurse had, she said, a good idea of what had happened but did not have the parts to fix it. They would have to wait for the prince's doctor, Ratchet, to return and machine the necessary components. But otherwise, there was no need to keep Prowl in the hospital, and so Jazz brought him to the palace servants that he might be painted and polished and given energon. That night, Jazz seated their mystery visitor next to him during dinner and entertainment. Jazz was just as charming and kind as Prowl had dreamed he would be and took care to engage Prowl, even though he had many others to give his attention to. Musicians came and played and sang for them, and Prowl felt a pang to know Jazz would never hear him sing. After that, all the dinner guests took to the floor and danced, and though Prowl's struts still ached from the forced transformation, he was light and graceful on his new feet, a perfect compliment to the prince. Everyone admired the handsome, graceful, silent stranger, but none more so than the young prince.
Jazz offered datapads to Prowl to tell his story, but Prowl would not give details, only that he came from a far-off land and had had a difficult journey. The prince frowned at this but let it be, saying only that he hoped Prowl would come to trust him enough to someday tell him his tale.
Jazz took Prowl with him on walks through the palace's gardens and trips through the countryside. Together they climbed mountains and explored all the area that was the prince's domain.
When the other inhabitants of the palace were deeply asleep, Prowl would silently go down to the beach and cool his feet in the waves, remembering his life below the sea. Once, his siblings came though they did not come close to the shore, and sang sadly to him, making Prowl wish he could sing back. They said how sad they were without Prowl and came every night after that for quite a time. Even Prowl's grand-creator, who had not been to the surface in an Age, and his creator came to visit him. They reached out, beckoning, but did not come even so close as his siblings had. Prowl was saddened, but day by day, he was falling ever more in love with the prince and would not have gone back even if he could have.
"It's so strange," Jazz commented one day as they walked the length of a long gallery filled with Ages and Ages of portraits of the princes who had come before Jazz. "You remind me so much of someone I thought I saw in a hallucination or a dream. I was on a ship that was wrecked, and though I washed safely ashore, I feel as though I was not alone on that terrible night. Perhaps it's only that I am so grateful even to the thought of not being alone, as I'm so grateful for your dear companionship." So saying, he kissed the back of Prowl's hand gallantly. "We'll never be apart, I promise you. There was a mech I thought might be my rescuer, the one who I saw first when I woke on that beach, but she said she was not with me in the sea. She and her sisters found me on the beach, and from the marks in the sand, she said it must have been another who pulled me to safety. I wish I knew who. I think I saw a face, but they did not stay. Perhaps my dream was no dream, or perhaps it was mere chance."
Knowing full well who had brought the prince to safety on the night of the storm, Prowl wished he could tell him. He could have written or used the chirolinguistics he had eagerly been learning, but something held him back. Perhaps Jazz would not believe him, or perhaps he would and then Prowl would have to explain everything or risk pushing his darling away by saying nothing at all.
The interlude they passed together was delightful, and Prowl was sure Jazz became more enchanted with him as time went on, just as Prowl did with his prince. But Jazz was a prince, which meant that he could not wed a stranger with no history and no people no matter what he wished. Offers came to him near-daily to take a spouse from this land or that, but Jazz had no interest in them.
"They are all attractive mecha," he confessed to Prowl one night, "to the last. They each have talents and interests and skills that would make them excellent matches for me, and yet — " He gave a little shake of his head. "I cannot put it off forever, but even when I find one I think I might live with, it is not enough. I want more than to simply live with whoever I marry." So saying, the prince took Prowl's hand and pressed it gently between his own. "I wish — " but he stopped there and shook his head. "But I can't do as I wish always, can I?"
Again Prowl was tempted to tell his prince the truth, but still, he did not. He touched his throat, wishing he could tell Jazz the truth and regretting his bargain with the sea witch for perhaps the first time. But the gesture caught Jazz's attention.
"I also wish you could tell me who did this to you and why," Jazz said. "But my physician will be back soon, and then we can look into repairs if that's something you want."
Prowl was not so sure he could be repaired. He did not think Tarantulas was the type to make a bargain that could be undone, but perhaps…perhaps…
Before Ratchet could arrive, Jazz received an offer for an arranged marriage with a princess from a nearby kingdom. His courtiers and advisors pressured him to accept it, and Jazz wavered.
"I do know it would be a good alliance for my kingdom," he told Prowl one night as they and a handful of courtiers, for the prince was rarely alone, walked along the beach. "And I have even met my proposed bride — she is the one who found me on the beach, though she did not save me from the waves. I know her. I believe I can get along with her that she is the best of my options, and yet — " Jazz fell silent again, and Prowl briefly felt the warmth of his hand next to his own, as if Jazz had reached to touch then it was gone.
Prowl looked out over the waves but did not see his family, and though he thought of being under the waves again, Jazz beside him anchored him firmly to the land. Even if Jazz were to marry this princess, would Prowl remain? He did not know, but how could he return to the sea? Perhaps Prowl could at least remain near Jazz even if he could have nothing more of him. If not, if not…
Even a prince could not long resist the pressures and the needs of his court, and soon Jazz reluctantly agreed to a betrothal. Prowl felt as if his spark would rend, but he too was a prince, though a minor one who had left his kingdom, and he understood.
Jazz seemed happy enough when he met his fiancé, and Prowl thought it was not a front. After all, Jazz did know this mech and had fond memories of her kindness. As sad as Prowl was to lose what they might have had, he wanted Jazz to be happy. And so Prowl smiled through the betrothal festivities and pretended each toast did not stab him to the spark.
In the midst of this, the royal physician returned. Jazz broke away from his celebrations long enough to personally escort Prowl to the appointment.
"I speak Hand well enough," Ratchet told them. "Prowl, if you want Jazz to remain here, that's your choice. If you want to have the appointment by yourself, let me know, and I'll have him leave."
"He'll do it, too," Jazz added with a chuckle. "Rank means nothing to Ratchet."
"Rank means nothing to illnesses and injuries either," Ratchet countered. "Now, stand to one side, Jazz, and let me take a look."
Prowl, remembering his last medical treatment at the hands of Tarantulas, braced himself, but Ratchet was professional and careful.
"Well, this was adequately done, I suppose," Ratchet said, examining the nearly-healed weld where Prowl's voice box had been removed. "Why was it removed? Malfunctions, system issues, you wanted a newer model?"
Prowl shook his head to the questions. Ratchet waited for a few seconds, and when Prowl would not answer, he only gave him a curious look and continued the examination.
"Your T-cog is damaged too," Ratchet observed. "I'm afraid that those are too individualized for me to machine you a replacement, so unless we can find a donor or your self-repair can manage it, you'll have to remain in your root mode. Apart from those two components, you're in perfect health. Speaking of those components, would you like a replacement voice box? I'd need access to your specs and a few cycles to machine the parts, but it's certainly doable. I can reactivate your comms, too, but it looks like they've been hooked to your voice box somehow. You'll only be able to text."
Prowl thought about what that would mean: he would be able to speak to Jazz, but would he be able to tell Jazz what he truly wished to? Jazz was betrothed now, promised, and it was not just a matter of personal wishes but of negotiations between two kingdoms. But…
…he could tell Jazz.
Slowly, Prowl nodded.
While Ratchet replicated Prowl's voice box from the specifications downloaded from Prowl's self-repair systems, the wedding preparations continued. As a friend of Jazz's, Prowl naturally spent time with Jazz's soon-to-be spouse. Prowl certainly could not fault Jazz for agreeing to the marriage. The princess was kind and thoughtful, intelligent and fair. She would rule wisely and well, especially with Jazz beside her.
Prowl spent many lonely nights walking the beach, listening faintly for the songs of his family, but it seemed they were coming but rarely now. He felt very alone, and even being able to communicate with Jazz via text had not alleviated it. Prowl still hadn't told Jazz the entire truth, only that he came from a far-away land and could not return. He was sure Jazz knew there was more to the story, but the prince had not pressed for it. Not yet, anyway. Jazz was a naturally curious mech, and Prowl knew he would ask for Prowl's entire history sooner rather than later. Jazz had said as much.
"I would like to know your background," Jazz said, looking into Prowl's optics with his hand resting so close to Prowl's as they dined in near-privacy several nights ago. "You seem so familiar somehow. Won't you tell me, even a little, about where you came from?"
Prowl hesitated but told him a little of his history, though not the whole of it, including that he had many siblings, a creator, and a First Creator.
"You must miss them very much," Jazz had said sympathetically. "The palace's comm systems are at your disposal, or if you wanted to retur — to visit your home, you only have to ask."
Sitting with them at the table and courteously included in the text thread, the princess looked between them but said nothing.
Prowl did not take Jazz up on his offer of either comms — for the palace comm would not reach under the water — or a visit. However, returning was something he gave more and more thought to every day. But how to explain to his family not only why he'd left, why he no longer had his mermech form — how to tell them of the deal he had made with the witch? If he went back, would he ever be allowed to leave again? Prowl had longed, all his life, to see the surface, and he did not want to lose it again.
Prowl walked, lost in thought, and only when he reached the end of the beach and turned round to go back did he see the princess, waiting for him where the steps led down from the palace to the sand. Reluctantly perhaps but without hesitation, Prowl walked back down the beach to her.
"Perhaps you expect me to say you cannot have him," the princess said when Prowl was close enough, "but I believe you know that already. But I left someone behind, and while I like Jazz well enough to do my duty if I could trade places with you, I would."
So saying, she turned and left, leaving Prowl alone on the shore with his thoughts — and, perhaps, a touch of hope.
As Ratchet had told them, it took but a few cycles to replicate Prowl's voice box.
"You will have to rest at least a cycle to let it integrate before you can use it," Ratchet cautioned him. "But you will have your speech back by the day of the royal wedding, should you have anything you wish to say to someone before then."
Prowl remembered his last treatment, at the hands of Tarantulas, and did not look forward to this new surgery. Again, he was doing this for Jazz and again, he sought the mech out as soon as he could though he still could not speak.
"Ratchet does the best work," Jazz said, smiling. "I'm very eager to hear your voice."
Prowl was eager for Jazz to hear it and texted him the timeline Ratchet had given him.
"I hope I'll be able to hear you before the ceremony, at the least," Jazz said and then had to take himself away to attend to something, whether related to the wedding or governance of the country Prowl did not know.
The wedding was the next day, and it seemed a very long day to Prowl. He did not know if Jazz would have time to visit with him before the wedding. The ceremony was to be in the evening, but everyone was busy throughout the day. Everyone save Prowl seemed to have a role, and Prowl could only sit and watch the integration progress monitor on his HUD and wait for evening.
The monitor slowly filled with green and notified him that reintegration was one hundred percent complete.
Prowl rose and stood at his window, looking out at the sea and wishing, until the chimes sounded throughout the palace for the seventeenth cycle. Jazz's wedding began in a cycle and a half.
Like the prince's party, the wedding ceremony was held on a ship. Prowl was reluctant to board, but Jazz had requested Prowl attend him in the preparations before the ceremony, so Prowl went. It was the only time Prowl had been unwilling to go near the water. But nonetheless, he went, holding the magnet-backed jewels that would adorn the prince that night.
When he was ready, Jazz dismissed all his attendants, save Prowl. They had not much time, and Prowl was still unsure what he should say — or not say — or do.
"I know that your repairs should be complete by now," Jazz said quietly, looking intently into Prowl's optics. "And I know it can't change anything, but I would like to hear your voice before everything changes, even just once."
Prowl did not know if speaking to Jazz now would bring good tidings or bad; he only knew what he wanted. He wanted to say so much that he did not know where to begin.
"Please, let me hear you say your name," Jazz cajoled.
That Prowl could do.
"I am Prowl," he said simply.
Jazz stared at him in disbelief. "Your voice," the prince said wonderingly. "I thought I heard it before in a dream, but it was no dream, was it? It was you that pulled me from the waters after the storm!"
"It was," Prowl said, and even though he knew what Jazz was set to do in only a few kliks, his spark spun a little faster. "I did not tell you because I did not know how to. Without my voice, I did not know if you would believe me."
"I had no memory of your face, so perhaps not," Jazz admitted. "No, I understand why you waited. I only wish you had not had to wait so long."
"So do I," Prowl whispered and dared to take Jazz's hands.
"If only you were royalty," Jazz said mournfully. "I think my bride would give us the trade agreement without the marriage, but still — "
Prowl hesitated only briefly before saying, "but I am royalty. I come from Praxus, under the sea, and my creator is its king."
"Have you any way to prove this?" Jazz asked, looking hopeful.
Prowl thought: he could not transform and prove himself that way, but he had his voice back now. "Perhaps."
Prowl had not seen his family in the waters outside the palace for some time now, but he hoped they would be nearby. He and Jazz went to the nearest railing overlooking the vast sea as quick as they could and scanned the waves. Prowl had a bad moment when he saw no one, but then he gripped the railing tight and sang out a few short notes, a call. They had not long to wait before a mermech's helm peeked above the water, then another and another. Most importantly, Prowl's creator had come too, and though the crown he wore was simple, it clearly told his status.
"Will they come aboard," Jazz asked quietly, "or shall I go down to them?"
"They have no legs like you, and I do," and Prowl knew he would have to tell Jazz that story later but not now, "you would have to go down. But, your bride — ?"
Jazz looked distraught, but he need not worry; other mecha had heard Prowl's calls and his family's back to him, and they had come to see what was happening. Jazz had to explain, and Prowl wondered if it were as clear to everyone else that Jazz was torn between desire and duty.
"So then you are royalty also," the bride said, looking at Prowl. "And you know what I said to you on the beach. If you will let me, there is another I would prefer."
"I do wish that," Jazz admitted, "but the treaty between our countries our marriage was to seal?"
"I have seen it," Prowl said, "and it would take little effort to adjust it to maintain the agreement without the marriage. And you would have a new ally in my creator's kingdom. If," and his newly regained voice threatened to falter, "my creator will agree to it."
"Then let's go down to them," Jazz said firmly, taking Prowl's hand, "and we will ask."
Prowl's creator pulled himself into the boat Jazz had lowered and hugged Prowl so fiercely the young mech nearly keened with relief. He had left without warning, he had not been able to tell his family what was wrong, and he had not been sure of what their reunion would bring. Prowl's creator was sad to hear Prowl did not want to return to Praxus but agreed to let him wed Jazz if he promised never to make his family worry so much again.
Prowl had not meant to get married that day, but he was well polished enough for it, and while he had no jewels and definitely no oilsters to wear, he did not think Jazz would care. So the officiant was brought down, and the witnesses crowded along the railing above and Prowl's family against the boat's hull. Prowl's creator gave them his blessing, and they spoke their vows. Prowl had never really had a vision for his wedding, especially as it had seemed unlikely to happen, but he thought any daydream could not have been more perfect than this.
Afterwards, Jazz's princess went home to her own beloved. A grotto was built on the palace grounds, leading to the sea, so Prowl's family could come and visit as often as they wished. Prowl and Jazz had a long and happy union in their palace by the sea. And, for all anyone knows, they are living there still.