It had been billions of years since the war ravaged Cybertron. The Autobots had found their way to Earth, crash-landing and awakening in a world unknown to them. They had adapted, fought, and rebuilt, but the echoes of the past were never far behind.

Today was supposed to be a day like any other—returning from a mission, debriefing, and perhaps a brief respite. But as the Autobots began to wind down, a thunderous crash echoed outside their base, sending a ripple of tension through the ranks.

Optimus Prime, ever vigilant, signaled to his team. "Take your positions," he commanded in a voice that brooked no argument. They moved swiftly, covering every entrance and preparing for the worst. The Decepticons had not launched a direct attack on their base in a long time, but this was no time for assumptions.

A soft knock reverberated through the metal doors. It was an odd, almost hesitant sound, nothing like the expected barrage of firepower. Cautiously, Optimus approached, weapon in hand, and signaled to open the door.

To their astonishment, instead of an enemy, there stood a tiny Autobot, no taller than a basketball hoop. Her frame was delicate, a mix of sharp angles and smooth curves, and her optics glowed with an innocent curiosity. At her feet was a small Cybertronian suitcase, and clutched in her hand was a note.

Optimus knelt down, taking the note from her tiny grasp. As he read, the world seemed to narrow down to the words scrawled across the page.

Optimus*

This is Grawl, your daughter. She was created from a part of your spark and a sliver of mine. I had to ensure her survival, even if it meant sending her far from home. Take care of her, as she is now yours to protect. I know she will be in good hands. - Zephyronyx

Optimus looked up, his gaze shifting to the crash-landed escape pod just beyond the base. He couldn't believe what he was reading, but the evidence was undeniable. He motioned for Ratchet to approach, unable to find words as his processor tried to grasp this new reality.

"what?" Optimus whispered, more to himself than anyone else.

Ratchet took a quick scan of Grawl, nodding in confirmation. "The note checks out. She's definitely part of you."

Still in a daze, Optimus gently picked up Grawl and asked the other Autobots to prepare a room for her. They all exchanged glances, sensing the gravity of this moment.

As they moved through the base, Optimus spoke to Grawl in a soft tone, showing her the different parts of their makeshift home. He introduced her to Teletraan I, the semi-sentient computer that ran the base, and watched as she explored with the wonder of a child.

Grawl's curiosity led her to ask Teletraan to do something only a child would think of—"Can you do the chicken dance?" she asked with a giggle.

Optimus couldn't help but chuckle as Teletraan responded with a humorous animation of a stick figure doing the chicken dance as it played music right along with it. Grawl danced along, her little feet tapping in time with the music.

Optimus laughed, a deep and genuine sound that resonated through the base. It had been too long since any of them had experienced such joy.

But as the days turned into nights, the same tune echoed through the base over and over again. Optimus, though patient, eventually had to intervene. "Grawl, Teletraan needs a break, and so do you. It's time to rest."

Like any child, Grawl pouted and protested, but Optimus lifted her into his arms with a gentle firmness. "Even warriors need their rest," he said, his voice taking on that motivational tone he reserved for his team before a battle. But this time, the message was for his daughter.

He held her close, feeling the connection that only a father could feel. For the first time in billions of years, Optimus felt a new kind of responsibility—a different kind of battle, one that involved nurturing and protecting this tiny life that had been entrusted to him.

Over the following years, Grawl grew, and so did the bond between her and the Autobots. They taught her, played with her, and watched as she discovered her abilities, transforming for the first time with a proud exclamation of "Twansfowm!" as she became a tiny dragon.

Optimus and the Autobots made sure she was cared for, even creating a giant robot plushie for her to cuddle. But as she aged, Grawl began to feel the weight of being hidden away.

At ten Cybertronian years old, she was no longer content with staying inside the base. Frustration built within her, leading to an inevitable clash with Optimus. "I'm old enough!" she argued, but Optimus, though understanding, had to put his foot down. "It's not safe, Grawl. Please, trust me."

But Grawl, like any child, pushed the boundaries. She waited for the quiet of night, slipping out of the base unnoticed. For a while, she managed to sneak out and return before dawn, avoiding detection.

But one day, she didn't come back.