Spoilers for Transformers Prime Beast Hunters: Predacons Rising.

I do not own Transformers or anything; however I do own my OC St311a.

For a friend who missed him and for a phantom who needed him.

Cybertron.

Once a thriving planet resting upon the very heart of a god; a true image of perfection compared to the chaos surrounding it. Yet even in perfection, imperfections will always rise up to mar the once proud gleam. These, imperfections, were known as the Decepticons. Ruled by a cruel warlord, the Decepticons would not stop until Cybertron was theirs and theirs alone; and their adversaries, the Autobots were nothing but a fading and hated memory. Their Lord, a former Gladiator of Kaon by the name of Megatron vowed never to end his path of destruction until Cybertron was his and his alone to command. And, he nearly succeeded.

Had it not been for the strength and will of the Autobots Cybertron would have been lost to the husk their war had forged it to be. The once dead planet now thrived, pulsing with the energy of the Allspark and the spark of Primus himself. The war that had ravaged and destroyed the planet had finally ended; the Decepticons disbanded, the Autobots now the protectors of their revived home, though at a heavy cost.

Optimus Prime had been lost.

His spark one with the Matrix after rescuing the Allspark from Unicron the Chaos Bringer himself. His sacrifice brought about the new age of Cybertron, yet leaving a wake of aching sparks in his absence. They needed him. He left, just far too soon. The age of the Primes had ended and his comrades had accepted his sacrifice to protect and return the capability for live to thrive upon their newly revived planet. Though such knowledge certainly didn't make his absence hurt any less. He had been a fierce warrior, a true leader, and a good friend. And that is what had drawn the drone from their barracks to the very Well his actions had revived.

The drone was nothing more than that, a simple drone; an Vehicon, designed to serve the former warlord from the air. The drone, the femme, was known simply as St311a. Her spark was small, her will was weak. She was a drone, nothing more. Most say she, like the others, wouldn't be a true Cybertronian had it not been for the presence of her spark. Countless times had she fought with her brethren against the Autobots and just as frequently was she one of the few drones that ever escaped extermination. Whether it was her skills, her timing, or simply pure luck she never questioned her fortunes. It was these fortunes that brought her to the Well. She wasn't special; she wasn't unique, nor was she important above another but that wasn't going to keep her from trying.

Dropping to her knee joints she lowered her chassis until she was folded against the cool metal beneath her until she was tucked against it in a full and complete bow. Wither her optics offline and her spark sputtering within her chest she began to pray. She prayed to the Allspark. She prayed to Primus. She prayed to whoever would listen to her meager spark.

Though her spark was weak, though she had no weight behind her being to ever compare to another still she prayed. She prayed that the fallen would be returned to those who needed him. In exchange for her own spark, she would gladly trade places with the Prime and take her place within the Matrix long before she had truly been called. She was a drone, she was St311a. No one needed her, but they shall always need him. Though her spark continued to pulse within its chambers, though her consciousness remained in its ever repeating prayer she refused to cease until her prayers were answered or time sent her to Primus instead.

Time became moot to the drone; only her prayer and begging spark was known to her. She refused to give up, she couldn't. Again and again she repeated herself, muttering in not only Cybertronian but also English and various other languages she had been forced to learn upon her travels. She couldn't give up, she couldn't.

As her prayers continued, her very spark began to warm and glow bright enough to pierce its chambers. Though her gaze remained dark, still did she see the unmatched glow of the Well's permeate her very form sending unmatched warmth to every inch of her frame. Even as her voice continued, still did she hear another whisper to her very spark seeking only the truth and weight of her words.

Would she truly relinquish her spark before its time? She would. Would she give up her chance at a new life, drone or not, upon the revived world? She would. Would she let her spark fade, her memory long forgotten except from the very spark she wished to return? She would. Without question. She would give anything, everything, to return who was lost; who was still needed by the comrades, the friends he left behind. Gladly would she give up all that she was, all that she is, and all that she could be to bring him back from the sacrifice that had silenced him.

The warmth she had felt began to fade, receding from back to wherever it had come from. Desperately did she cling to it; desperately did she beg for it not to leave her, to hear her words and know them for truth. Despite such, the warm swiftly vanished just as it had come. Leaving her once again folded and bowed before the Well of Allsparks. Though her optics were hidden behind the visor all drones possessed, even it could not hide the tears that rolled from her dark optics.

She had failed.

She hadn't been strong enough, sincere enough, worthy enough to be heard. But…it just couldn't be all for not…It just couldn't be…

Though sorrow racked her frame, despite the very ache that near sputtered out her little spark, that all ceased when she felt a servo upon her shoulder. Slowly did she allow herself to raise her fallen gaze, optics flickering online and sending a warm glow across her visor. All she could make out was a sea of blue and red, her own tears clouding her sight. But even then she knew who was kneeled before her. Who gaze was pure and kind even to someone such as her. She knew him, and now, he knew her. His servo reached out to her, his smile as warm as the glow she had felt before. It took her only a klik before she accepted his servo, her spark thrumming elatedly within her chest.

Primus had heard her prayer.

And he had answered.