Truth Between the Lies

By: Sinead

Author’s Note: This part is still unfinished, just to let you know. I know, I know, it ends abruptly, but . . . talk about severe writer’s block.

Part Six

Donathan looked at me, from his seat next to mine. I blinked slowly, and looked as if I were listening to the man making the speech upon my engagement. It was four months later, and Donathan has now openly wondered how I had ever pulled off taking care of all these issues all at once, and not seem stressed by it all. I had replied that it was just the way I was raised.

". . . and now to congratulate the groom-to-be . . ."

Don managed to look interested.

Optimus tapped my shoulder, halfway though the feast. I looked up from my meager plate of food. It was the most I could have in front of me and still look "modest." I looked up at him, and he said, "Your feet up for dancing after this?"

I looked at him in a bored manner, then heard, "A toast!"

Donathan looked at me, then eyeballed the crystal glass, clearly not wanting to try the odd-smelling clear liquid fermenting there. I met the eyes of my uncle, who had stood. He looked at me. "And I know that my niece abhors wine, so I propose that it be a simple dance, instead."

Donathan heaved a sigh, causing most at the table to chuckle and laugh quietly. Meridane looked amused. "Oh, so your fiancé feels the same way, too? Hmm . . . I’m thinking that this may actually be a bad thing after all. I’ll have to deplete the wine cellar all by my lonesome."

Laugher wasn’t held back, this time. Donathan sighed. "And here for me to think that you would be doing something horribly drastic."

"You think that isn’t drastic, young sir?" a bearded older man of the nobility asked, his bushy eyebrows raising.

Donathan shrugged, and replied, "Then we’ll have him only deplete four-fifths. That is, if he’s still breathing after the first flagon of some of the potent dark red stuff I saw the cook sprinkle ever-so-gently upon the duck. If he feels like another glass to clear his gentle palette, I would suggest the yellowed wine that is souring in the far corner of the cellar. After that, if he still in possession of a pulse, then perhaps I’ll consider his proposal of drinking this!"

There were cheering and laughter, and Meridane laughed aloud. "Wherever he’s learned to banter like this, he’s good! And how did you know the red was potent?"

The cook walked in with a new dish, and replied, "Because, milord, he saw my young assistant out cold in the corner, with a nearly-full glass in his hand!"

"Mmph. What a waste. That boy never could hold his alcohol." Meridane looked back over at us, and then smiled. "Niece, and my nephew-to-be, please grace us with starting the dancing up. I’m sure that you’ll be able to eat a bit more later, Queen Rebtaliyah. Now, off you go!"

I chuckled, and replied, "You are most kind, Uncle Meridane! However, I propose that you dance with this lovely Duchess Fianna, hmm?"

There were cheers, as the Duchess Fianna, a single middle-aged woman, walked up smiling to my uncle, and led him to the dance floor after myself and Donathan. I blinked at the band, who were looking at me. The conductor bowed with a flourish, and then set about picking up a lively tune. I laughed, knowing the title and all, then let Donathan sweep me around easily. He and I had been practicing a few of the dances, just in case something like this happened.

Unfortunately, we had to dance quite a lot that night.

Upon our way back to our rooms, we talked about the wedding.

"When is it customary for a Cybertronian?" I asked.

"Whenever, as is for humans," he replied, his fingers entwined warmly around mine, as he took my shoes from my left hand gently, and held them in his own.

"Fun. So that means that we can have the wedding whenever we want."

"Pretty much."

"When did you want it?"

He smiled down at me, shrugging, as he opened the door for me. He activated every one of the bugs, and said, "We have already joined souls once, yet yours was ripped free from mine when you died. That shouldn’t have happened, Rebta. But now I see that it was all for the better."

"What do you mean?"

"You and I were married. When married, the souls of both Cybertronians touch, and bind to each other. When one of the Cybertronians are near to death, the other’s soul will preserve the first’s. In all logic, you should have lived in the Wars. But you left."

"That’s why you were traumatized," I whispered, pulling off my gloves and the sash. Both were either folded or hung. I looked to him, as he was silent. His hand was in front of his face, as he was staring at it intently, unaware of the tears streaming down his face. I walked over to him, and reached up to his face, resting my hands gently upon either side. He looked at me, then at his hand. I took it in my own, and wiped the tear away, then went about wiping the tears from his face, barely smiling, knowing that he was discovering the true meaning of tears from a human’s perspective.

Neither of us said anything until I tried to unbutton the back of my dress. Larger hands pushed my own away, and I looked back to smile at Donathan. He sighed, and started from the top of the line of buttons, and undid them one by one. His whisper was all that mattered that night. "I wonder if our souls can touch once more."

I awoke, the next morning, still in my night-wear, but with my head resting upon Donathan’s chest, clothed as well. Neither of us wanted to get into trouble. His hand was stroking my hair gently as he whispered, "I had always thought that a spring wedding would be nice."

Smiling, I replied, "I liked summer, myself."

"Early June?"

"Early June. Coming up, or the one after that?"

"I think the sooner, the better, Rebta."

"I agree, but there will be dress planning to do."

"Forgot about that bit."

"The groom has also to go through some issues as well."

"Meaning?"

"You have to wear something representing your past, present, and future. It has to be thought-out, and will have to be in accord to what I will be doing."

"Will swords work?"

"I was actually going to suggest that, milord," Naqatha’s voice said.

I glared over the Minister, who was looking out the bay window. "You two awoke at the exact same time. I’ve noticed that Dinobot and Rebta did that often. He, of course, had to always be on high alert. I’m sorry if I seem intruding, but you’ve left me in the dark about something, Majesty. I’d like to know what it is."

I sat up, and blinked at him. I had a headache starting to pound behind my sinuses, and wasn’t liking it. "Naqatha, let me see your real eyes."

He sighed, and with an irritated snort, did so. I blinked at him. "We left you out because you’re safer that way. You won’t need to know it for a while."

"Yet only married Cybertronians are as attuned to each other as you and Dinobot were, and now as you and Donathan are!" he replied.

Donathan sighed, and looked as if he were about to leave the room. Instead, he closed the door, and whirled to face Nightscream. Only, when he glared at the younger boy, he was the robot I had met him as. His voice was low, and angry. "You slagging walk in upon us again, you even enter one room without knocking, and I’ll make your life–"

"Oh, will you leave off, already?" I moaned, resting my head back upon the soft pillows.

A snort followed my statement, and I was about to answer, when Dinobot said, "Stay there, and don’t get up for a moment. I’ll get the painkiller."

"Thank you."

"She has a headache?"

Dinobot’s voice was oddly amused. "And you’re supposed to be the observant secret bodyguard? Hah!"

"Dinobot, I’ll hurt you if you don’t get back here in five minutes."

"Yes, majesty."

"I love you, you know that?"

"Yes, dear."

I looked at him, as he was human again, and pouring a bit of water. "Am I that irritable?"

"Negative. Just thought that I’d remind you that you’re first my queen, then my lover."

"Oh, lovely."

He smiled, handed me everything, and turned to face Naqatha. "You learn to find my true weakness, and then I’ll say that you deserve the spot you’ve been given." He grinned. "Savvy?"

"Huh?"

I laughed, and looked up at Donathan. "You saw my collection of old movies, didn’t you?"

"I quite liked that one . . . ‘Pirates of the Caribbean.’ It was rather interesting."

"I agree. The actors were rather good-looking as well."

"Hmph."

"She’s your weakness?" Nightscream ventured.

Donathan only blinked.

"Slag."

"Wrong again," he stated carelessly, and sat at the desk, looking at some of the paperwork sitting there. "Rebta, is this in regard to your uncle regaining his title?"

"Yes, sadly, I have to do all the paperwork."

"Pity."

"I agree. I find it too annoying."

"What’s this one?"

"What’s it labeled?" I asked, looking at him.

He opened the cover of the file folder, then said, "Maritime Act Three, Section Four, Subsection Twelve."

I sighed. "Tax upon docking boats from another country. Act Three is in regard to International affairs, Section Four has to do with docking them within the bay."

"Raising the tax, or lowering it?" Nightscream asked.

I stood, and leaned upon Donathan’s shoulder. "Raising it temporarily by twelve percent, since the Navy is slightly short on funds."

"I’ll have it posted within the hour."

"Good. Thank you. Also, there’s this one to look at," I replied, handing him a folder. He opened it, and I cited from memory, "Aerospace Act of 2964, Section Two. We’re redefining aerospace around our country over the ocean by a mile."

"Inland or out to sea?"

"Out to sea. Also temporary, and will remain so until one full year from our marriage date."

"Right. I’ll set that into effect as well. Is that all for today?"

I nodded, and said, "Tell the other Ministers and Secretaries that I’ll meet them over lunch."

"Yes, majesty." He became the tall, young Minister Naqatha Strache again, and bowed formally. "I’ll see to it that everything goes well. I might also tell you that Optimus is waiting for you."

Before he could leave the room, Dinobot blocked his way. "What makes you think that I’ll let you out without a vow that you will not say anything."

The young man bit his lip, then said, "Upon my lost family, upon Cybertron, and upon my word as a Maximal, I will not tell a soul about who you are, to anyone."

"Define anyone, Naqatha Strache."

"Any human, Cybertronian, or any living being I may encounter."

"Good. I have ways of finding out if you have leaked information. And I also have my ways of dealing with that leaked information. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Get moving. I want to hear that those two chores are done within the hour, starting now."

Naqatha hurried out, after Dinobot became the tall, long-haired man I still loved. I sighed, and he sat, then pulled me into his lap. I smiled, and rested my head upon his shoulder. He sighed. "I don’t know if it worked. My Spark and your soul . . .They’re somehow different, somehow the same. I can’t place it."

I traced his jawline. "Don’t worry about it."

"I know that, but . . . it’s hard not to."

"Look, it’s not like I’m pregnant or anything."

He looked at me, and it was my turn to sigh. "Don, look. You heard Naqatha. He said that we awoke at the same time."

"But I’m used to waking up at the same time as you. I’m used to feeling you stir, and then wake myself up, so that I can be with you."

"But did you do that this morning?"

"Not that I knew of. I’m still ready to fall back asleep."

I stood, and he did so as well, looking down at me oddly. "Why did you wake up?"

"I felt your hand brushing my hair. You?"

"You moved closer to me."

I blinked, then smiled, and lowered my eyes, thinking how comforting it would be to lean against Donathan.

He was wrapping his arms around me, when we both stopped, and looked at each other. He smiled, then kissed my forehead, and held me against him. "I think that we can feel emotions, general thoughts, but that’s it for now."

"Let’s keep it that way until next June."

He smiled, and said, "We’d better start planning, love."

I nodded, and replied, "Then let’s."

"Right. So. This is the site you’d like your wedding to take place upon?" my uncle asked, looking to Rhinox, who was going over a few papers.

The Maximal looked at the area Meridane was pointing to upon the map. "That’s in view of Icefire’s cottage . . ." He looked to me, and smiled, "Primus knows . . . that has to be one of the most beautiful views in the gardens."

I smiled, and said, "Donathan suggested it as we were walking around the grounds a week ago."

"Of course, I didn’t know that she had played there as a child," Donathan added. "Helps, though, due to the nature of the games she played."

"Don, don’t say it like that. All of the noble girls dreamt of meeting a handsome prince from a foreign country, and being whisked off to another land with him, all with a magical influence. When I was seven, believe me, a magical whisking away is the only thing that was on my mind. Nowadays, well, I have other things to dream about."

"’Ya weddin’ night," Rattrap piped up.

Donathan glared at him, then sighed, and said, "Some are hopeless. Silverbolt, you haven’t said much about this."

"Aah, but I am thinking, Donathan."

"So share your thoughts," my fiancé replied, smiling, and leaning back. "You come up with a good one every so often."

The knight blinked once, gave the impression of rolling his optics, then said, "The guest list. Who will be invited to the actual wedding, and who will attend to the gathering afterwards?"

I laughed as Donathan blushed crimson. "Silverbolt, there really is no reception for Donathan and myself until a week later. Granted, people will want to attend our little party, but . . ."

Rattrap and Cheetor laughed at the backfired question, as Silverbolt turned an odd shade of embarrassment. I shook my head, smiling kindly "The wedding reception will be the week after, once all wedding requirements are met."

"Ah."

Donathan was laughing too hard at Silverbolt’s face to really comment, but Rattrap didn’t miss a beat. "Aah, ’ya gotta love–"

"Silence, Vermin," I warned, remembering something. "Remember what I said to you when we first met and you were annoying me?"

Optimus and Rhinox began laughing as Rattrap sunk into his seat and Naqatha looked to the other ministers and my uncle in slight confusion. Clearing his throat, he said, "Anyway, back to the topic on hand. We have a date, June seventh, and a place, the gazebo in Icefire’s garden, called the Pavilion, but what of the guests?"

I sighed, as Donathan replied, "I really have no family. Never knew my parents, and I was raised partially in a orphanage, partially in a gang, but mainly on Cybertron in an arena."

"That’s where you get your sword and bodyguard training," Meridane said, nodding.

"Yes."

Minister Sorha blinked, then asked, "So would you invite any of those people?"

Donathan looked at him in shock. "Never. They’re . . . huh. I don’t even know if any are still living. Besides, I wouldn’t chance it."

"What if one turned out as well as you?"

"Not likely."

Minqa, Secretary of the Treasury, sat back, then said  "We’ll worry about the marriage list later. Where most of the money will be going will be towards the reception." He cleared his throat, then shuffled through the papers until he found one. "Now. In planning for the dress . . ."

I groaned. "Oh, just tell me the price limit."

He did. I blinked in shock. "That’s a pretty high amount."

"Well, you did ask. And we have chosen the seamstress–"

"If it’s that blasted idiot Fandara, I’m going to kill something."

The ministers looks somewhat chastened.

"Why did you choose that lady? For the love of all that is good and holy . . . does she know yet?"

Most of them either fiddled with something or cleared their throats. The Treasurer actually did both.

"Who told her?"

Minister Morit raised his hand partially.

"Why? And answer me verbally, please."

"Because she made the wedding finery for every royal wedding and highly formal event for our country and the surrounding countries in the past two decades, Majesty?" he said haltingly.

"Well this is one wedding that she won’t be making ‘finery’ for."

"But–"

"Please, Minister Morit, believe me when I say that I do not like her work, nor the high and mighty way that she has started to treat her clientele. I have had one gown made by her, and I do not plan upon having any more made. No, please, be silent for a moment. I’m going to give you the seamstress that I wish to work on this by the end of this week. I have my wardrobe to go through." I looked at my own notes, then looked at both the Ministers of Foreign and Internal Affairs. "Changing the subject, I have quite a few gowns that I am planning to auction off, in order to gain funds for orphanages."

"We don’t have any," Minister Morit replied. "Any child that is orphaned always has some couple willing to take them in, whether they are blood-relatives or not."

"Be that as it may, but Cybertron does have orphanages. And this is a country that values the Cybertronian race as their allies. They have helped us in times of need, and even have given me six wonderful bodyguards." I smiled at Donathan. "Not to mention that they’ve raised my soon-to-be husband."

The man blushed and looked away, smiling. "I’ll start the planning of the event as soon as possible."

"Thank you."

"And Queen?"

"Yes?"

"Good luck trying to find a seamstress that is willing to take Fandara’s place."

"Why?"

"She scares them off."

I rubbed at my face. "Fine, I’ll have an audience with her and see if she’s changed, which I highly doubt."

"She’ll be here this afternoon."

"So you’re finally getting married."

"Yes, Mistress Fandara. And I have been told that you were prospectively going to be working on my dress."

"What dolt told you ‘prospectively,’ might I ask?"

"Who said that I would agree to you making it?" I replied, sitting casually in a large armchair. Donathan was beside me, calmly silent.

Her face reddened in anger. "Are you presuming to embarrass me?"

"You’ve already put out announcements that you’re going to be working on my wife’s dress, I take it," Donathan said, looking away from the woman and towards a large wolfhound stretching and yawning upon a skin laid before a calmly roaring fire.

The hound before the fire was another Cybertronian, one that barely ever showed his robot mode to anyone other than the royalty. He was a secret bodyguard that has watched over me as long as I can remember. I smiled and with a hand-motion, beckoned him forward. With a slight whine, he complied, sitting before me, acting the part of a hand-reared hunting dog easily. I rubbed at his ears, letting the silence stretch. Finally, Fandara answered. "Yes. I told people today."

"You didn’t have my approval," I replied. "I find that somewhat disconcerting that you would do so. I have a few other seamstresses whose work I have found dually comfortable and ornate. I have also heard that you enjoy scaring off your competitors. Why would that be, might I ask?"

"They produce inferior work. Why else?"

Sighing, I stood and walked over to a screen, activating it. I had composed a slideshow of pictures comparing different works that I had worn to various occasions. "This first dress was the one you had made for me for my coming-of-age at eighteen. It. Itched. Horribly. I couldn’t stand it and had to change out of it, since the material was about to give me a rash. Granted, the look as wonderful, but the fabric choice was poor."

For an hour I showed her different works, most of which were on myself and my mother, even a few from my grandmother. She sat through it silently. Once done, I turned back to her. "So you see what I mean?"

"I made your mother’s wedding gown."

"Yes, I remember. It’s on display in the hall."

She sighed, making a sour face. "So you do not approve of my work."

"Frankly, no. Nor do I approve of the fact that you have also been rather unkind to those whom you have been invited to work for. People rant and rave about the style and detail that you put into your dresses, however, the cons to that is that you have a nasty attitude and the dresses are not comfortable in the least."

"Fine."

"And you will not try to scare off any of those seamstresses whom I choose to interview for the making of dresses. Do you understand?"

"Yes, royalty."

"Thank you. Dismissed."

The dresses made by this particular seamstress were all on manikins in my receiving-room. All but one of them were hers. She walked over to that one, touched the fabric with one hand, then walked a circle around it slowly. She walked back to see the other dresses, and smiled at one of which happens to be one of my favorites. I walked out from behind the curtain I had been watching her from, and asked, "So what do you think?"

She whirled, face shocked. "Majesty!"

"Yes, sorry for startling you."

"Oh . . . oh, I didn’t know that I had designed so many for you. I simply didn’t remember."

I chuckled and walked to see that one dress. "It’s beautiful, and it received many, many complements from those whom I had danced with at the ball I wore it to. Thank you."

"May I ask why you called me here?"

I rolled the manikin of my favorite over to the one that Fandara had made. "To compare. This sports comfort, my favorite color, and completeness. Why?"

"Why?" she repeated. "Well, if you look at how the panels of the bodice are shaped, they’re slightly irregular, but perfect in their own way. As for that one, in comparison, the bodice is symmetrical."

"Right. While there are small seed pearls placed upon it, all of them are placed perfectly upon a designated spot. However, this one here has a more natural feel to it, portraying an imperfection that makes the wearer seem more at ease with who they are, and what they’re wearing."

"Thank you."

"You’re welcome," I replied, smiling, resting my hands behind my back. "So. Did you want to design and make my wedding gown?"

"I would be honored."

"The honor is mine, because I will be wearing a master’s work on that day."