Thanks so much for all of my reviewers! Sorry about the grammar mistakes, I'll try to see if I can fix as many as possible (spell check doesn't seem to work that great…). Anyway, a question was posed about how Eragon would remember how Selena looks and how Lysela reminds him of her. Well, this is AU. There is a massive age difference between the two. About 9 years, if you would like me to be exact. For Selena to give birth to both of them, she must have raised Eragon for a short while. The fic follows the same plot to the original book, but it WILL be a little different. Scenes that do not have extreme effect to Lysela, I will not do. This is about Lysela's influence on Eragon and other characters.
An apology if this is a little confusing, my readers. But hopefully, this next chapter will help the story start to move along.
Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon, of course. Though it'd be totally awesome if I did…nah, I'd rather be a character if you ask me:D
Dawn approached more quickly than anticipated of the slumbering siblings.
Eragon rose from his bed first such like every ordinary morning, massaging his temples. This morning he was to go with his family into town, to visit the traders.
"Ly, get up!" he mumbled grumpily, walking over towards the girl's bed. He gently shook her awake, starting to dress himself as she rolled over in her sleep.
Lysela groaned, throwing her pillow at her older brother. He winced as he felt the impact of the cushioned item. He grinned wolfishly, grabbing his own pillow across the room at her.
Since his back was turned, he could only hear a loud, "OOMPH!" and then the sound of the little girl falling on the pine floor.
Snickers, not the candy, emitted from his lips, as he pulled his shirt of his broad shoulders. He was starting to bend down to pull on his boots, when he felt arms clasp around his neck.
"Oh no! SHE'S GOT ME!" he yelped, his arm snaking around his back to hold a certain little girl up. Giggles erupted from her, as she clung tightly to him.
"Don't drop me!" she squealed, her eyes dancing with pure delight. He laughed, bouncing her up and down. She kept clinging tighter, afraid to let go.
"Fine. But get dressed. Maybe if you do it really fast, I'll carry you around a lot today when we're in Carvahall," he urged, prying her off him to let her get dressed.
"Okay!" she cried, dressing herself quickly. She didn't want to walk around town all day, especially with her tiny legs and a fairly large village. She'd make Eragon do the work!
Eragon lifted Lysela out of their wagon, shifting her weight so she would not be a burden to his back nor would he let her slide off. She wrapped her arms around his neck, as he held her legs up with his arms. The two looked like a pair of childish monkeys, though the villagers of Carvahall were used to this common sight.
The family was prepared to make their necessary trades after their ever-busy harvest. Garrow was bartering with much success with traders and craftsmen of various kinds, not much to Eragon's surprise. Though something about the usually joyful traders was different.
The youngest children were joyfully playing games in the bustling streets. But the adults…they seemed so wary and careful, and signs of struggle and battle seemed to scar and mark them.
"Eragon, let's go look into trading that stone of yours. Roran, we'll meet you back at Horst's later," Garrow instructed, motioning for the younger boy to follow.
Eragon glanced over at Roran. The young man bit his lip for a moment, seeming unable to take the child on Eragon's back.
"I'll take her. Go meet your girl!" he called, relief shining on Roran's face. Eragon figured that he needed a break ever since Lysela had seen the two, youthful lovers kissing in their kitchen.
"I owe you," Roran replied, as he disappeared into the growing crowd. Lysela waved a farewell for a moment, then burying her head into the back of Eragon's neck.
"Where are we going?" her muffled voice came. Eragon snorted a laugh, his gaze now ahead as he followed his uncle towards the traders' tents.
"To go take care of the stone."
A/N: The attempt to sell the "stone" to Merlock as well as the conversations in the bar are going to be skipped. I don't want things to be rewritten that we all know. Besides, it doesn't affect Lysela; she's too young to quite understand.
Evening was approaching rapidly, much faster than the usual turtle-like days. As Eragon and Lysela walked down the streets, they happened to pass an alley. Eragon stuck his arm out to stop the girl, a grin plaster across his face.
The siblings potted Roran and Katrina, together in a particularly dark alley, the two barely able to see them. Lysela spotted the two speaking quietly, and then Katrina leaning close to him.
Eragon immediately grabbed Lysela, his hand flying to cover her mouth. With her history, he would take no chances of ruining Roran's moment.
Luckily, she managed to kiss him quickly yet tender, so Katrina could leave quickly. Roran had a dazed yet wondrous smile on his face, as he walked towards them dreamily.
"Have any fun?" Eragon called, releasing Lysela as he approached Roran. The older boy grunted, rolling his eyes.
"So did you hear-" Eragon began, when Roran interrupted.
"Agh, I've got a problem. Well…what do you think of Sloan?" he blurted out, having not been paying any attention to his cousin at all.
"He is rude and isn't nice to us. At ALL," Lysela stated bluntly, a cold look in her eyes. She adored Katrina, but Sloan had always been cruel towards her family. And if anyone harmed her family, she hated them.
"Then go ahead and prepare a hole to bury me in because I am most certainly dead when he finds out about Katrina and me," he stated quietly, turning pale.
Eragon winced, rubbing his cousin's back. He was definitely in trouble now that much was true. But as family, he had to support him. He could not blame him for his love for Katrina. She was kind, beautiful, and displayed much love for those in need. Those three qualities seemed important to Eragon.
"Look, it's snowing!" Lysela cried, pointing up to the sky. Clouds had been forming all day, and now tiny white flakes twinkled upon the three.
"It's nice. Come on, we better head off towards Horst's place," Roran suggested, the three heading towards the home.
Evening fell, as villagers and traders built together roaring bonfires amongst the local fields. Lysela and Eragon seated themselves amongst the grass, Lysela curling up on her brother's lap.
He smiled, the dancing firelight shining upon the many faces. He brushed his fingers through her hair, as her eyes focused upon the acting travelers. Stories of various kinds: tragedies, romances, comedies, all sorts, were told to them. Though slumber threatened to overcome the young girl, Lysela struggled to stay awake.
She lifted her head from Eragon's shoulder when she saw the renowned storyteller, Brom, stand before the gathered beings. She clapped for a moment, a grin forming on her lips. No, she would not sleep through one of his stories. They were by far her favorite of all.
The aging man gazed upon his viewers, his serious tone now clear as he brushed his cape behind him. Graying hair was upon him, yet his eyes shone with the fierceness that resembled a warrior.
He began his tale, fantastic beyond all:
"The sands of time cannot be stopped. Years pass whether we will them or not…but we can remember. What has been lost may yet live on in memories. That which you will hear is imperfect and fragmented, yet treasure it, for without you it does not exist. I give you now a memory that has been forgotten, hidden in the dreamy haze that lies behind us."
He seemed to search the crowd, spotting Eragon and Lysela. He smiled warmly for a moment, then turning to continue his story.
"Before your grandfather's father were born, and yea, even before their fathers, the Dragon Riders were formed. To protect and guard was their mission, and for thousands of years they succeeded. Their prowess in battle was unmatched, for each had the strength of ten men. They were immortal unless blade or poison took them. For good only were their powers used, and under their tutelage tall cities and towers were built out of the living stone. While they kept peace, the land flourished. It was a golden time. The elves were out allies, the dwarves our friends. Wealth flowed into our cities, and men prospered. But weep…for it could not last."
His story told of Galbatorix, the ruler of all of Alaegasia. From when he first became a Dragon Rider, down to his immediate decline and fall into evil. Not a single man, woman, or child had no emotion. Eragon gazed down at the child asleep in his lap. He could tell easily that she had just drifted after the story ended, because there was no way she would ever sleep through Brom's stories.
Eragon sighed, watching the curling embers within the fire. Right now, life was what he believed to be perfect.
The part where it's in italics in this particular chapter, is indeed from Chris's works. His wonderful, amazing, almost-worshipped works. :D. Anyway, I chose a selection to place in here to make it flow and because I like that part.
A wish of mine, a dearest wish of mine. Please review? Please?
-Sparrow'sknight101