Prowl stared at the duo. The femme, she had been a small Cybertronian, but had become a normal sized Cybertronian femme. He had watched it happen right in front of him, yet, he couldn't wrap his processor around it. It wasn't until she had turned to address the Decepticon – Former Decepticon, Brother...He wasn't sure what to classify the mech as, yet – that he got the chance to look her over. He recognized her from somewhere, but where?

He wracked his processor. Red and white femme, shield on her left arm, blue optics, city speaker markings, able to speak Ancient Cybertronian...He racked his processor trying to remember why she was familiar to him. A stray thought, drifted through his jumbled processor. His optics widened. It couldn't be...Could it?

He subspaced his gun and pulled out a worn data pad. Something he used as inspiration when he wasn't sure where to start on a new tactical plan. He turned it on, glad to see it still worked. It held some of the most prominent and revolutionary tactics of eras long past. It was something he complied early on in the war, before the Hall of Records was destroyed and with it all of their planets collected knowledge and history.

He flipped though the documents stopping at one in particular. He opened the file, skimming through its contents. It wasn't until he came to one of the few picture files he had found of the Knights of Cybertron, namely the only picture file that supposedly contained the Commander of the Knights. He pulled up the file and zoomed in as much as he could. The picture quality was not the best, the resolution becoming highly pixelated and blurry the more he zoomed in, but he knew who it was that he was he seeing. The red and white armor. The double chevron, the insignia on her armor. He could even make out the presence of markings around her optics. He still remembered the conversation he had had with Alpha Trion, the Head Data Clerk of the Hall of Records, about the photo.

"It's a controversial picture. Historians have tried for years to pinpoint who the Commander is, but all records have been lost or destroyed over the years. It's almost like someone doesn't what her identity known." The elder mech had explained.

"Her?" He had asked.

"This femme here," He pointed to the red and white femme in the front of the group. "She is the only one historians have yet identify."

"Do you have any theories?" He had asked, slightly intrigued by the mystery set before him.

"Officially, no." He paused "But personally I believe her to be the infamous Deltus Prime." He had been shocked to hear the old mech say such a thing. After all, they had been taught from a young age about the Great Betrayer. Alpha Trion held up a servo."Now, before you call me a senile old mech, let me pose to you a question;How do you know I'm not right? After all,we have no image files of Deltus Prime. Yet, this femme here, all we have is a picture file. Both lived and operated during the same era. It may just be possible that they are one and the same."

"If your theory is correct, then what about the conflicting information? In one she is a savior to all of Cybertron. The other, a force as destructive as The Fallen." Prowl asked, curiosity deepening. Alpha Trion merely stroked the thin metal sheet that fell from his chin.

"That is a tricky one to answer." The older mech responded after a few long moments. "But let me ask you another question; How do we know history got it right?" Prowl only looked at him confused. The old mech chuckled. "Let me phrase it another way. How do we know that what we have been taught is actually what happened? Hmm?" He met Prowl's gaze. "We were not there. So how can we be so certain that she did commit the crimes she was accused of?

All we have is a story and a name. A story that has been told so many times that it may have gained a life of its own, turning into a legend." Alpha Trion optics shown eerily bright in the dim light of the Records Hall. The smile on his lip components twisted up in a way that said that he knew more then he was letting on. "Let me give you a word of advice young Autobot; To believe everything you are told will only serve to get you into trouble. Every story has two sides. The one that is accepted by the general populace, and the truth. Rarely are they the same thing." The old mech turned ad took a few steps before stopping and looking over his shoulder plate. "I should be getting back to my rounds. I hope you found what you are looking for." He remembered watching as the old mech walked away. His words confused him and plagued him for orns on end. It wasn't until several long battles, many of which were lost due to false information, that he understood the 'advice' that Alpha Trion had given him.

He looked up at the femme who was still comforting the mech she claimed was his brother.

"You're Deltus Prime..." He said, just loud enough for her to hear. She turned to him suddenly. He watched her optics widen, brightening with shock. Her frame tensed, as if she were scared he was going to attack her.

"H-how did you know that?" She asked, voice quiet and fearful.

"Alpha Trion." He responded. She shuttered her optics in shock several times before a smile tugged at her lip plates and a soft laugh escaped her.

"O-of course...A-3." She laughed again. "Even now he's looking after me. The old coot." She chuckled softly again.

"What, do you mean by that?" He asked curious. She shook her head, dropping her gaze to the floor.

"Alpha Trion, or A-3, is one of my elder brothers. One of the Original Thirteen. The Archivist." She paused. Her gaze drifted to the far wall, though he suspected that she was seeing something much farther away.

"Then you are the Fourteenth Prime." She looked back at him again, a sad smile on her face.

"Unfortunately." She locked his gaze with hers. "Are you going to kill me?" It was a simple question. It was what they had been told to do if ever they came across her. Yet, Alpha Trion's words echoed in his helm;

'Every story has two sides. The one that is accepted by the general populace, and the truth. Rarely are they the same thing.'

As he kept his gaze locked with hers, he saw two things that should never be together: Acceptance and fear. A glance towards Barricade showed that the mech was in a state of shock. Understandable. He returned his optics to the femme, Deltus Prime.

She seemed smaller than she had in the picture file. Gone was the proud stance and regal gaze. Instead, he found himself faced off with a youngling. The look she was giving him spoke volumes, yet held the most important things back. She was guarded, yet openly aware of the situation she was in. It almost reminded him of Bluestreak after they saved him from the rubble of Praxus.

"No." Prowl watched as her optics widen, brightening once more with shock. "I am not going to kill you." Her frame seemed to sag minutely, releasing its tenseness. She simply stared up at him, lip components slightly apart. It wasn't until coolant began to collect in the corners of her optics did he realize the weight his words held.

She bowed her head, coolant slipping down her cheeks to hit the floor. Her shoulder plates shook ever so slightly as silent sobs wracked her frame. Prowl looked over to Barricade, only to see that he was as confused and lost as he was.

()()()

Barricade was beyond shocked. He knew what was said about Deltus Prime. He had heard the stories. Her name was constantly heard within the halls of Decepticon bases all over Cybertron. Yet, even knowing that, even knowing what she had supposedly done, he couldn't see this femme doing any of it. Even if her name was Deltus Prime. There was no way that any mech or femme that was so evil, so bent on destruction, would nearly kill themselves just to save a stranger. He wanted to growl and blame his thoughts on that thing she did, but he honestly believed what he was thinking.

From the stories he had heard, she was supposed to be a cold sparked femme. One that would fix mechs up just to torture them to the brink of death, only to fix them up again and repeat the cycle until the mechs spark gave out. But she hadn't done that. The stories said that she didn't feel emotions. That she was a manipulator. A con artist. But the femme in front of him was was crying openly. Sure, she could be faking it, but the severity of the sobs led him to believe else wise. To him, she looked more like a lost sparkling.

Barricade edged forward, reaching out to place a servo on her shoulder plates. He almost pulled back when she jumped in an almost violent way. The look she gave him when turned her helm, made his energon run cold. When she had told him the secret behind his existence, she had stood tall and spoke with a calm, tone. When, Prowl, woke up, she had been his strength. She had been understanding and kind, but still firm and unyielding. She gave him no pity, only acceptance. Now though, she looked only lost. Almost afraid. He could feel how her frame had tensed up at his touch. He frowned. He didn't like seeing her like this. There were some beings that just shouldn't cry. This femme was one of them.

He reached up with his other servo, digits curling so that only one was partiality extended. She pulled backed slightly, optics flashing with obvious fear. His frown deepened. He never liked seeing youngling hurt, and right now, Katie – Deltus,whichever – looked to much like an abused youngling for his liking.

He brought his servo closer and brushed away a bit of the residual coolant. Her optics widened at the contact as she flinched lightly.

"Easy. Easy. I may be surprised to find out what your name is, but I know you are nothing like the stories I've heard." He said in a low voice, hoping he wasn't going to spook her. "And it ain't that calming effect thing talking either." He added, just to make sure she knew he was serious. He watched her lip component tremble slightly before he was pushed back by a sudden force and pressure against his chest.

"L-lavemi!" He looked down, optics widening. Deltus held onto his armor, fresh coolant running down her face plates. "Lavemi! La-lav-vemi!" She kept saying over and over as she clung to him. "K-koldia ciar s-shixtre, lav-vemi!" Barricade had no idea what to do or what she was saying.

Awkwardly, he wrapped his arms around her, causing her to snuggle closer to his chest platting. He glanced to his brother, hoping for a translation.

"She is thanking us." Prowl said, optics trained on the femme, deep in thought.

"What is it?" Barricade asked, switching to modern Cybertronian, hopping to not upset the femme.

"I was just thinking how much she looks like youngling right now." Barricade glanced down as the now trembling femme. He had to agree. She was acting like a youngling.

"Hey." He switched back to English, pulling Deltus' attention up to him. "If you keep acting like that, we might just treating you like a youngling." He said, trying to ignore Prowl's glare. Deltus looked up at him confused for a moment before a small watery laugh escaped her.

"A-actually, that might be more appropriate then you think." Both mechs stiffened.

"Deltus." Prowl said, stepping closer and kneeling down. "Are you saying that you were prematurely upgraded?" Barricade felt his spark sputter as she nodded her helm.

"There was no one else left. All the others had left to explore the cosmos. I was the only Prime left on Cybertron." She started to explain, her voice quiet, timid. "I had to do what I thought was best to protect our home." She sounded so small. Prowl laid a servo on her shoulder.

"You did well." Prowl said gently. "Actually, you may find this, weird, but I keep a copy of the tactics that the Knights used on me for inspiration. When I can not think of new ways to push back against the Decepticons, I would read through it. Often, it was the bases for many of the battle plans I have came up with."

"R-really?" She asked, looking up at Prowl in awe. "I, I mean, Street Cred did most of it. He was really good when it came to tactics."

"Street Cred?" Barricade asked. Deltus looked up at him, optics brightening ever so slightly.

"He was my second in command and my main traction. He wasn't always the easiest to get a long with, and often made comments that got him in trouble with the others, but he meant well. And he always tried to get everybody home in one piece." Both mechs shared a glance. Neither could decide if she sounded like a sparkling going on about her hero or a commander praising a trusted solider. Maybe a bit of both.

"Is, is it true that you pushed the enemy back at the Hydrax plateau with only a group of fifty mechs?" Prowl asked with a little hesitation.

"Ya. It was not an easy battle. It's amazing we only had a couple of casualties. It was the terrain made all the difference."

That evening was spent trading stories of battles long over, surprising turns of events, and extraordinary feats. The displeasure of only a few joors earlier forgotten for the time being.