A small gathering stood round two tombstones in the clearing of a wood. Tall oaks loomed overhead blocking the sun's faint rays from reaching the mulch-covered ground. A howling wind bit through the gloomy October afternoon. It swept the air with a deep chill.

Eight year old Kurt wrapped his black, cloak tightly around himself as a shudder ran through his little body. His eyes were swollen and fingers numb. Hot tears ran down his face. They left tear tracks that stung as the cold breeze nipped at the delicate skin of his cheeks. He did his best to fight off the sobs that racked his small frame, but it was of little use. Whimpers of grief broke through the otherwise quite congregation.

There was no way to block out the pain of loss that seemed to eat away at his chest like a raw, open wound. Nothing eased the hurt. Time slowed and faces blurred as the cassette of his beloved father was lowered into the ground.

Kurt's was a good man and the best friend anyone could have known. At least, that's what people kept telling Kurt. Over and over again, like it would somehow make things better.

It didn't.

It only made their loss all the more poignant. It was a reminder that they were losing someone magnificent, someone who had touched the lives of so many people. Burt Hummel was great man, compassionate and beloved by all. A down-to-earth, kind soul who, despite his considerable wealth, never put on airs of grandeur to impress others. Instead, he had let his actions prove his true worth. He was the sort of man always willing to lend a hand to those in need, no matter their station.

That was exactly what he was doing that fateful morning not two days prior. He went out to the rode beside their chaetae to help a poor chap whose rear axel bearing had broken on his cart. That was when Burt's heart gave out. He just fell to the ground clutching his chest. The stranger helped pull him back to the house and called for help, but it was too late. Kurt was playing in the foyer when they brought his father in. He saw the strained look of pain etched in his father's features, and in those last few seconds reached out to hold his hand one last time.

Kurt never knew his mother. She suffered from bouts of illness after the pregnancy and died when he was just eighteen months old. From that day on his father was his whole world. They did everything together, from Burt's valiant attempts to teach Kurt fencing and cricket to their little tea parties in the backyard. Now his whole world was being hoisted into the cold ground beside to his mother.

Kurt didn't know what to do with himself. Never again would he see the broad smile or sparkling eye he had come to depend upon. He was weeping openly now, not bothering to contain his sorrow any longer. In the past, whenever Kurt was upset like this he would go to his father for comfort. Now, more than ever, he longed to feel those reassuring arms wrapped tightly around him, but that was not possible. It never would be again.

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After the funeral proceedings Burt's lawyer was eager to discus the urgent matter of what was to become of the child now that both parents had passed. For the time being, Kurt was being cared for by the house servants, who knew him from infancy and were accustomed to looking after the boy. Obvious this could only be a temporary arrangement. Though he would have preferred to stay in his father's house, Kurt was several years from being able to run the estate, and he had no blood relatives fit to care for him. All the options for Kurt's care were explored and extinguished. With no other viable alternatives, the proper letters were written and documents signed; it was agreed that Kurt was to be taken in by his Great Aunt, Lady Susan Sylvester.

Sue hadn't shed any tears when the news came of her "nephew's" unexpected demise. She'd met him all of two times, and he had given her disapproving looks all the while. So she married a man three times her age with one foot in the grave? Who was he to disapprove of her? For all his wealth and fine clothes he acted like nothing more than a commoner who dressed above his station, lacking all eloquence and the gentlemanly air she had come to expect from a man of his wealth and breeding. It was not until she received word of his poor, orphaned son and the large estate he was to inherit that she was moved by the plight of the young boy and took it upon herself to take in the ill-fated child.

Lady Sylvester had a reputation for being distant, cruel, and having no patients for children –or anyone for that matter. She was a woman who achieved great wealth by a string of marriages, all of which had ended with the untimely deaths her husbands. She had been married no less than five times, and though the death of each husband had been shrouded in speculation there had never been an evidence to assume foul play. All had occurred under 'natural' circumstances: an accident, poor health, etc. Some say she was a heartless murderer who killed them all with her bare hands. Others say her words were as lethal as the deadliest poison, and prolonged exposure to her cruelty is what drove them to death. Still there are those who swear she got on the wrong side of a witch who cursed all the men in her life with misery and an early end, so Sue would be forced to remain forever alone, never to live out her days with a companion or confidant.

Each of her five marriages had contributed something different to her overall assets. The first earned her a couple hundred acres of land and a stately manor, the second a prized collection of ancient coins, which had been promptly auctioned off to the highest bidder for substantial profit. The last two marriages left Sue with a different kind of treasure. Two young step-daughters. Well, that, and a modest amount of material wealth to sweeten the deal. The eldest girl, Quinn, was the daughter of Count Russell Fabray, while Rachel, the younger of the two, was the daughter of Sir Hiram of the Bushwood Berrys. Though Sue loathed children in their entirety, she strove for excellence in every aspect of her life, and was determined to sculpt the little ingrates into intelligent, talented young ladies, who would one day marry very well, and improve upon their already considerable wealth. Adding Kurt -and all the benefits of his estate- to the bunch seemed like a golden opportunity to achieve all the profit of a marriage without having to put forth the effort. The man was already dead, a win-win situation in her's opinion. Sue was done with marriage, and looking to enjoy the spoils of all her hard work.

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As it turned out, life with the three children was easier to manage than Sue could have possibly anticipated. Young Quinn was reserved and did what she was told. Kurt just sat around with the same mournful, pathetic look on his face all the time. At least he was quite.

The only real nightmare was the walking temper tantrum of horror, Rachel, who, for whatever reason, required her undivided attention several times a week. Luckily, after six months or so, even that began to work it's self out.

As Kurt slowly began to pull himself out of his depressive little funk, he and the little horror could entertain each other. They sang their annoying little songs and put on their stupid little shows, and the stately manor where they lived was large enough where Sue didn't have to listen to it. In fact, with the help of the nannies and tutors, she could ensure that the children had the best upbringing money could buy and still have days pass where she never even had to see them. Yes, life was good. Too good, as it turned out.

Sue was squandering away enormous amounts of money on ridiculous expenditures. Apparently, paying Giovanni Francesco Grossi, the famous soprano castrato, to sing for you're servants as they washed the children's clothes, in the hopes that the talent would rub off, was not a smart way to manage the finances. Sue learned too late how quickly money could disappear. As the fortunes of her deceased husbands' began to dry up Sue was forced to sell off her properties and possessions, and let go most of the servants just to escape doubter's prison. In the end, all that remained was Kurt's inheritance and the home left in his name.

If Kurt was a female things might have turned out differently. But, despite his girlish behavior, Kurt would one day be a man. By the age of eighteen he would have control of the estate and more right to, what Sue was now calling, the "family" money than she did. Kurt's wealth was the only thing keeping Sue in the type of luxury she'd come to depend on, and she was not about to give up her power and money to a man –any man, and certainly not to this pale, little lady-boy.

Kurt, of course, was told nothing about the squandered fortunes or usurped inheritance. All he knew was they were moving from the nice house where they'd been living back into the chaetae he was raised in by his father.

Sue was a clever woman and kept a sharp eye out for a way to manipulate the situation to suit her needs. She didn't have to wait long. The next winter Kurt fell very ill. After his recovery she informed him that rare medicines and expensive doctor's visits had used up all the money Kurt had left, and he would owe her a debt since he would be living off her funds from then on. It was all rubbish, since Kurt had gone untreated and recovered in spite of her neglect. Regardless, he now believed he had to earn his keep by doing chores and working in the house as a servant.

The general public believed Kurt to be a weak, sickly kind of boy. As far as they knew he was never seen in public due to constant illness which kept him permanently bedridden. When the time came for Kurt to take over the household's finanes it would already be well known that he was physically unfit to manage his estate. Obviously, it was imperative that Kurt never be recognized, so Sue kept him sealed away in the house as best she could. Sue had initially been taken with the Kurt's awkward charm and sweet face she eventually came to treat him with the same humiliating verbal abuse as the other servants of the house. Thought the three children had once played together as friends the girls eventually became distant and learned to treat him the same open ridicule as their step-mother. It wasn't long before all affection for the boy was severed, and he was truly alone in the world.