It is such a quiet thing...to fall.

A gray mist hung over the land, seeming to meld with the muted greens and blues of the ancient churchyard of the estate. The normally bright Derallian sun had hidden its face in sorrow today, at the passing of a favorite son.

A small gathering stood around the open grave as the priest intoned the death chants before the dark, elegant coffin. A small contingent of Republic soldiers, their uniforms pressed and polished for the occasion, stood on one side, arms behind their backs in full military attention. To the other side, an even smaller group of family, dressed in traditional Derallian grieving garb, befitting a family of noble ranking.

An older man, his once-red hair graying around what had been a proud, noble face, clenched his jaw. He straightened his bent, worn shoulders with a show of pride as the attendants began to slowly lower the coffin into the grave. Tears fell silently down his cheeks.

At his side stood the figure of a woman, her slender figure in a long black dress and veil that covered all but the very ends of her waistlength red-golden hair. She tried to place a comforting hand on the older man's arm. She drew it back hesitantly as he jerked his arm away, taking a step to the side to increase the distance between them in a show of silent contempt. Her shoulders stiffened in a fashion oddly reminiscent of the older man, the only show of her reaction as her face was covered in black lace from the veil in Derallian fashion.

At her side, a tall dark haired young man in Jedi robes bristled visibly. A frown appeared on his face as he glanced sideways at the woman, concern etched on his features.

The priest finished his chant, and silence fell over the churchyard as the attendants began to cover the coffin with dirt. The sounds of the shoveling seemed strangely loud against the background of waves from the ocean that met the cliffs meters away. The shrouded woman took a few hesitant steps forward to the grave's edge. Her voice, soft and cracking with emotion, began to sing a song of lament in the ancient tongue as the attendants went about their work. Some of the soldiers closed their eyes, listening to the beauty and sorrow of the strange words, thinking of the friends they had lost in the war with the Mandalorians. The lyrical, clear voice of the woman bringing an odd sense of comfort and peace to their battle weary souls.

The song ended, silence falling once more as the men finished the work of filling in the grave. They turned to walk away, following the priest as the small crowd began to disperse. Only then did the woman, who was standing as still as a statue, move. She fell to her knees beside the grave, the sound of a broken sob from behind the veil as her hands dug into the freshly turned earth.

The older man looked around, his face flushing red. He stepped forward and barked a sharp command to the woman. Then he spun on his heel and stalked away towards the gathered soldiers, leaving the grief stricken woman as if she ceased to exist.

The Jedi's already dark features became even more brooding as he glared after the old man. Then he hurried forward to give his hand to the woman, helping her to her feet and steadying her as she fought to regain control of herself, her shoulders shaking as she wept.

A young soldier with the markings of a lieutenant on his dress uniform watched the exchange. His heart wrenched at the sight, pity filling his dark brown eyes. He waited until his group dispersed, then he walked over to the pair.

"Excuse me, miss." He came to a stop, his body automatically falling back into military stance. "I'm sorry for intruding, but..."

"It IS a private moment, Lieutenant," the Jedi snapped coolly, his gaze falling resentfully on the soldier. "Lady Kasra is.."

"No, Malak. It's quite all right." The woman cut him off, her hand reaching out to rest on the Jedi's arm in a gesture of assurance. "Please, if you would give us a moment."

The Jedi Malak switched his dark gaze between them, a look of uncertainty and resentment etched in his face as if the soldier were treading on private territory. Then he bowed his head in submission towards the lady, and stepped back politely, if not completely out of hearing range.

"I apologize for my companion." The lady gave a slight curtsy to the soldier. "I'm afraid my friend is a bit over protective of me at times."

"I understand completely, my lady." He bowed slightly in return. "I hoped for just a moment of your time. Your brother and I..we served together."

"Lieutenant Onasi, I believe?" she responded.

"Yes, how did you..?" the young man began, surprised. Then he seemed to catch his composure. "Of course. You are a Jedi, after all "

"Yes, well, you see," she sniffed, reaching up to wipe the tears off her face under the veil, "It's more because Del spoke of you often in his messages to me. I recognized you from the photos he sent."

"Ahhh I see." He blushed a little. "In that case, you can call me Carth."

"Thank you, Lieut..ummm Carth.." she corrected, catching herself. "It's nice to speak to someone who was with him, there at the end."

"She will refer to you as Lieutenant," a gruff voice broke in from behind him. He turned to see the older man standing there, his face red as he looked down his noble, aristocratic nose at the young soldier. He turned to the young woman, fairly huffing with anger. "T'che si-pa-so!"

The woman reflexively flinched at her father's angry tone. "S'oma." She bowed her head to her father in an apologetic tone. "I apologize Lieutenant, for my inpropriety.I should not have spoken to you in so familiar a fashion."

Carth fought the urge to glare at the old man. His shoulders straightened as he brought himself into control. "No, I apologize. I fear I am not as familiar with Derallian custom as I should be." He turned to the older man. "My sincerest apologies, Lord Kasra. I meant no disrespect to you or your family."

The patriarch snorted, giving the young soldier a once over with his eyes before his demeanor relaxed. "Very well, Lieutenant Onasi. Out of respect for my son and the high regard he held you in, I accept your apology." He cast a glare at his daughter. "However, you will find that you will not become acquainted with Derallian customs through my daughter. As a Jedi, I suppose she sees herself above such things."

"Surely, having a Jedi for a daughter is an honor," Carth responded without thinking, so taken aback he was by the man's venom. "Delran spoke very highly of his sister's skills, he was very proud to..."

"My son, lieutenant," Lord Kasra interrupted, "Was far too lenient with his younger sister's ...urges. He should have encouraged her to know her proper place in society. Not run herself off to some convent to train in such mystic nonsense."

The woman seemed to bristle at the remark. Her voice sharpened as she explained. "My father, you see, never agreed with my decision to accept the offer of training from the Jedi council. It has cost him my bride price as a bartering object that he would have gained, had if I had 'known my place' and stayed here."

Carth opened his mouth, unsure of what to say as his eyes darted back and forth between the two aristocrats.

"My daughter may see fit to ignore most of our customs, Lieutenant," the grieving patriarch ground out, his jaw clenched. "At least she had the decorum to observe them here, at the funeral of her only brother."

"I did so out of respect for you, father," she stated, her voice softening with an offer of reconciliation.

"Respect for me?" the old man scoffed. "I suppose I should be grateful you didn't show up half dressed in those so called robes you Jedi wear, sporting a weapon like some back street ruffian!"

"I am learning the use of that weapon, Father, so that I can protect others from harm," she explained wearily, as if speaking to a child who refused to understand. "The Jedi.."

"Don't you dare speak such words!" The older man shouted, his face reddening as he advanced a threatening step towards his daughter. "The JEDI?! Where were your Jedi when the Mandalorians slaughtered your brother? When Mandalore himself slashed and mangled his body so badly that he couldn't even be viewed in state before burial! Where were your damned, precious Jedi then? Where were you?!"

The young woman took a step back, her shoulders shaking visibly as her voice faltered. "F-father..you know I would've gone with Del..I wanted to but the council, they forbid us.."

"Lord Kasra." Carth started to break in, attempting to defuse the situation. "Please sir, this is..."

"The council!" the older man spat on the ground to accentuate his opinion. "Your precious Jedi council. They sit behind their marble walls while the galaxy burns, spouting words of peace and patience! While our young men die by the millions! Ask the Lieutenant here! Go ahead!"

He turned to Carth, eyes burning with rage. "How many have you watched die, Onasi? How many young men and women are dying as we speak, while the Jedi council debates and councils peace!?"

Carth lowered his eyes, unable to meet the older man's steely glare. How many nights had he lain awake, hearing the screams and cries of the wounded and dying out on the battlefields, thinking those same thoughts? The Jedi...why haven't they come to our aid? His mind flashed on a memory of talking to Delran, the man they had just buried. On the night before the battle with Mandalore's personal retinue on Dxun. Delran, always hopeful, had bragged about the day the Jedi would come to war, how the warrior monks would drive the Mandalorians to the Outer Rim and free the galaxy.

"Your son believed in the council's wisdom, my lord," Carth replied evenly. "He fought for what he believed in, and he died as honorable a death as a soldier could hope for. His bravery and spirit were an inspiration to us all. It was an honor to serve with such a man."

"My son let his false hope and pride in his sister's supposed abilities lead him to his death, SIR," Lord Kasra responded bitterly. "There was no honor in being hacked to pieces by a brute on some distant moon, while his sister sat safe and pampered behind marble halls, spouting her religious fiddle faddle."

"Perhaps you would have preferred to bury me here today, father," she interjected, no question existing in her statement. "Perhaps my death would have brought you honor, then."

"Honor?" the old man turned his back to his daughter, his voice cold and cutting. "Our family has no more honor. I am old, and I will die bereft of both of my children. One who died needlessly, and the other a fool who renounced her birthright. The Kasra legacy will die, and slip into obscurity."

"No father." The young woman straightened her shoulders with pride. "I will find a way to regain our honor."

The old man turned on her, gazing down on her with a look of scorn. "If you would regain our honor, take your highly touted "Jedi powers" and have the courage to avenge your brother. Perhaps then, you can speak to me of honor, child." He turned his back once more, speaking over his shoulder as he walked away. "Until that time, you are as dead to me as my son."

Carth watched the old man walk away, not quite believing what he heard. How could anyone, even out of grief, speak so to their own child? He thought of his own son Dustil, of his scrawny form and big inquisitive eyes. He tried to imagine how painful it would be to lose him. To bury his son. His gut recoiled at the very thought, and he found that perhaps he felt a little pity for the grief stricken man after all. But to say such things to your own daughter...

He stepped forward, his hand finding the young woman's and clasping it in an attempt at comfort. "Lady Kasra," he whispered. "Are you all right?"

"Sarrin," a deep voice interrupted. Carth looked over to see the Jedi from before standing beside them. Actually more like between then, their clasped hands the only thing apparently preventing his blatant attempt to separate them. He gave Carth a glare, then looked very pointedly at the joined hands. "Enough of this! I won't sit by and let him insult you like this!"

He wilted a little as the small woman's veiled head snapped around to face him. Carth noticed that she had not let go of his hand either.

"I meant your father, of course," Malak explained. "I'm certain the lieutenant understood my meaning."

Carth met his eyes evenly, hearing the veiled message of ownership in the Jedi's tone. For a moment, he felt a rise of stubborn anger that made him want to hold the lady's hand longer just to show the Jedi he understood completely. But then he thought of Morgana's face, his wife, and realized how irrational such a feeling was. He found he was surprised at himself for such a reaction. It must just be his weariness, and the grief over losing another good friend to this relentless war.

So instead, Carth turned to the lady and lifted her hand, bowing slightly over it in a show of respect. "It seems I have taken enough of your time, my lady," he said. "Please accept my deepest condolences. I just wanted you to know that your brother spoke very highly of you."

"Thank you, lieutenant," she replied, her voice cracking with emotion. "I appreciate your kind words more then I can say."

He lifted his head, trying to see the features that lay hidden behind the black lace veil. He got an impression of large soulful eyes, puffy from crying, and soft, full lips attempting to show a brave smile.

"He called you the light of his life.." he told her. "He loved you...very much."

A tear fell from behind that veil onto his hand. Unable to speak, she bowed her head and nodded.

Carth gave her hand a final, reassuring squeeze and stood. "Until another time, my lady. I hope we meet again."

She watched him walk away, back to his waiting troops. Something about his kindness, it felt like a small candle flame, sputtering inside her where all else had become encased in ice. She thought of her brother, and the others who had lost their lives in the war, and her heart ached at the thought that the brave young lieutenant might be the next one to die. She whispered a brief prayer that they would someday meet again. I will remember you, Carth Onasi...she promised herself.

"How dare he!" Malak fumed, stepping up and taking her elbow in a grip that was almost painful.

"Lieutenant Onasi?" Sarrin asked, lifting her veil to meet Malak's eyes. She had no illusions about his feelings for her, and sometimes the intensity of them frightened her. Mostly because she was unable to return his devoted love. She loved him, but as a brother, a dear friend....but she knew she would never be able to give him what he truly wanted from her.

"No..no not him..." Malak denied, not meeting her eyes. "I-I was speaking about your father. I could have struck him down for saying such things to you!"

"No Malak.." she shook her head, alarmed at his anger. She looked away steely sadness lacing her next words."My father is right. How long will we sit by and allow others to die? It is our duty..."

"The council says.." the young Jedi started to interrupt but she cut him off.

"I will avenge my brother.." she swore, looking up to meet his gaze with a fierce determination. "I will. With or without the council."