Notes: Um. So, I came up with this scene before I properly applied a timeline to a DF Alternative Reality I was trying to write. Which means that it should not really be possible and stuff (Lord Raith's sons should not have survived till Thomas was 12). But because I'm shameless, it's being posted here and you should just handwave it for a few moments.

Setting: Pre- Storm Front.

Twelve year old Thomas Raith fidgeted, tugged at his tie, and tried to look anywhere except at the funeral casket.

He had limited success, mostly because the cemetery was filled with people, each of them with their eyes trained onto just that. Their collective gaze was magnetic, drawing his eyes back to the box. Vaguely rectangular with a vaulted lid, white with silvery curves patterned out on it. Like everything (and everyone) else present, it looked expensive.

When Lara had walked into his room, woken him up at an ungodly hour (which was surprising in itself; Lara usually left waking him up to the help) and told him to get dressed, he had predictably responded with a mumbled why, for the love of god?

"Anton is dead," was Lara's terse reply, "Father wants you to be at his funeral."

That had woken him up pretty fast.

His brother was not the nicest of people, what with having a tendency to sneer at him and make creepy cryptic comments. But he was family and they'd formed something of a reluctant bond, what with being the only two male Raiths in their generation and all. Thomas tended to like his sisters a little more than he liked Anton, but even he knew they could be a little unbearable after prolonged exposure.

Thereby stunned into obeying, Thomas dressed in silence and without protest. When he'd finally gotten his voice back, he'd asked Lara if they'd get to see him before, you know…

"No," Lara herded him into the Rolls, still unusually abrupt. "It's a closed casket. For good reasons."

Thomas was trying very hard not to think about what that meant. It was hard enough to believe the box contained his only older brother, without having to add blood and gore into the equation.

He pulled his eyes away from the casket (with some difficulty), and glanced around the grounds. He'd never known he had so many relatives.

The priest drawled on in a monotone, occasionally glancing at Father and Lara, who stood closest to him.

That was another thing. He'd thought the Raiths were firmly un-religious. The only time he'd been to a church was from school, and by accident. Barging in with the whole family onto consecrated ground the moment someone had died struck him as thumbing your nose at God, somehow. If there was one. But at least everyone looked almost as comfortable as he was. He'd never seen Lara fidgetbefore this.

His Father wasn't fidgeting though. His Father looked… serene. Sad, but serene.

The priest finished his chanting, and the casket was lowered into the hole. And then everyone left very, very quickly. Thomas couldn't blame them. He wanted very much to be away from the place, and he was Anton's brother. Even his sisters were upset; Elisa and Natalia took turns hugging him and stuff. And they kept hovering over him till he complained to Lara.

"Tommy," she'd replied, almost smiling, "You're the only brother we have left now. I think you can allow them a hug or two."

And despite the voice in the back of his head continuously going 'this can't be good', that was exactly what Thomas did for the entire ride back home. Aloof or not, siblings were siblings, and he hoped he wouldn't have to go through that ever again.

More Notes: Many thanks to Jillian Aerist and I am Reyna daughter of Bellona for their help with this. Thanks, guys.