Today was no different. The burdens of command never ceased, if anything, they multiplied like a swarm of scraplets. Piles of data pads, pointless council reports, and endless complaints from officers who couldn’t handle their own units. Sentinel Prime had enough. His temper simmered all cycle, barely restrained behind tight lipped scowls and sharp remarks. The minute the sun dipped beneath Iacon’s skyline, he was already mentally halfway back to his private tower.

His pedes throbbed, his shoulder plates were tight with stress, and his audials rang from all the fragging noise of the day. He needed solitude. Silence. And something to dull the ache in his frame.

As night fell, Sentinel stormed into his quarters with a low growl under his breath, not even bothering to activate the lights at first. The room was exactly how he left it, clean, precise, and blessedly empty. His optics burned from overuse, and all he wanted was to get off his pedes. But the sharp edge of stress still clung to his systems, and a bitter little voice in the back of his processor whispered for something stronger than rest.

He moved toward his desk with mechanical purpose, pulling open the drawer that only he ever used. Inside, nestled beneath a few personal effects, sat a sleek bottle of energon wine, deep violet and high grade. Without ceremony, he uncorked it and pressed it to his dermas. No glass. No toast. Just exhaustion.

He drank deeply, long, heavy gulps that hit his tank like fire. A deep ex-vent shuddered from his intakes as he leaned on the desk, wiping his intake with the back of his arm. He could already feel his systems tingling, his frame unwinding in slow waves. For once, the silence didn’t press down on him. It embraced him.

Time passed. He wasn’t sure how long, maybe an hour, maybe more. The bottle hung loosely in one servo, half-finished and slumped beside his chair. Sentinel sat like a king fallen from grace. Man-spread across his command chair, helm tilted back, optics closed, arms slack at his sides, the proud image of Iacon’s enforcer… dulled by fatigue and intoxication.

And that was when you walked in.

The doors hissed open softly, and your frame stepped into the dim, faintly glowing room. You paused. No words yet. Just… staring.

He was a sight...

You, his only confidant, his hidden other half, stood in quiet disbelief. Your secret relationship had remained locked away from the optics of Iacon for countless cycles. It was safer that way. It had to be. But now here he was.. The mighty sentinel prime, sprawled out like a washed up gladiator after the arena, fragged off his aft and looking anything but dignified..