Natasha walked out of Eragons room, where she was staying. She was sharing a room with Eragon for the time being and seeing as how Eragon was only in there to sleep, she didn't mind. It was pretty much her own space until night time, which she enjoyed. She passed Eragon in the kitchen, "Hey there." she said sweetly. "Smells good." "Thanks, won't be ready for a while though." Eragon said, not turning his head to face her. He was dressed in his finest clothes, and their father was out buying some clothes. This was a special occasion to them, Natasha was coming to live with them again. They had big plans, plans they would never get to fulfill. "You look good, Eragon." She said as she was walking away. He turned around, "You too." She turned around smiling, before continuing back to the room.
Eragon was making dinner, a lovely meal. The finest meats and the freshest vegetables, all for his lovely sister Natasha. It took a while to make, he was cooking to perfection. He wasn't the best cook, but this was a special occasion. His sister was visiting her brother and father, and she was staying a while. She had already stayed a week after arriving unexpectedly. It had been just over an hour since he last saw Nat, he walked over to the room. He knocked 3 times, no answer. He knocked 3 times again, no answer. He began making a beat with the knocks, "Hey Nat open up, dinner's ready." Silence. "I'm coming in." he said as he slowly opened the door, he opened it slowly enough so that if she was getting dressed she could slam the door shut. He made this habit of opening doors slowly after one particularly unpleasant event. Eragon gasped in horror, his sister lay in a puddle of blood. At first he believed her to have been stabbed, he rushed over to her body. "Natasha!" he shook her, "Natasha!" she was still wearing her armor and he couldn't locate a stab wound due to all the blood, and he didn't think of trying to feel for the stab wound. He noticed a lot of a blood around her mouth, he put his ear to her chest. No breathing. Time was of the essence, he thought, he didn't have time to wipe her mouth. He began giving CPR and chest compressions, her lifeless body not responding at all. He picked her up, and took her outside as fast as he could. He jogged over to the chapel, and saw everyone turn their heads to stare at him in the streets. He ran up to the temple, his sisters blood stained body in his arms. The priestess immediately rushed over, trying to heal her with magic. Eragon stepped back, gripping his hair. A few agonizing minutes later she was announced dead, Eragons soft cry turned into a burst of tears. He sit there, on the stone slab next to Natashas. He was facing her body, but had his head in his hands. He didn't wipe the blood off his hands so there was now blood wherever he had touched, a priestess came and wiped the blood off his face, hands and hair. Everyone left him but one priestess stayed by his side trying to comfort him, the others tried to find the cause of death. "My father he doesn't know," Eragon said with a cracked voice, "He doesn't know, he doesn't know." Eragons head rest in his hands once again, it had all happened so suddenly. Eragon stayed there, by his dead sisters side until they found out what had happened. Eragon had to tell his story 6 times to twelve different people; He told his story to guards, healers, priests and priestess's alike. They located no wounds, this had been a poisoning. There was no signs of a struggle, asides from some cloth on the drawers which she must have grabbed as she was falling. She had no signs of being strangled around her throat, it was defiantly a poisoning. They would smell her mouth to try find out what drink it was, but she had spewed so much blood this would obviously be impossible. Guards located some mead in her room, and a half finished bottle. They fed some to a rat, it spewed blood and died. It was well into the night now, Eragon trudged home after his sisters body was taken away. His father returned late at night, and asked where Natasha was. He had bought her flowers, Eragon choked up. Eragon began telling his father what happened, and couldn't finish. As father and son, the two hugged. After a long embrace, Eragon and Natashas father left the house. He was going to tend to his daughter body, leaving Eragon alone in the house. The flowers he had intended on giving his healthy daughter would now be places upon her coffin. The old man did what he had to, and Eragon sat up in the room his sister had died in. Eragon sat on her bed for about an hour before he lay on it. He turned his head and kept it in her pillow, it smelt just like she did. He cried all night, he rarely cried. He rarely cried and now he couldn't stop, he sat up clinging the pillow crying into it. The next morning he finally left his room, and trudged dreaily out into the kitchen. His finished meal was still there, it was cold. He stared at for a few seconds, and continued out of the house. As he opened the door and shut it, a note fell to the floor. "DEATH TO THE STORMCLOAKS" written on it. What had been a very depressed mood now became a very hateful one, someone had the courage to poison his sister and make a mockery about it. He picked up the note, scrunching it, and pocketed it. "You look good, Eragon." He saw his sister turn around, flashing that beautiful and innocent smile she had. He replayed this memory in his head over and over again as he stormed the streets, noticing people look at him and turn away. He didn't know if it was out of respect, or they just didn't care, but he certainly didn't care. Eurland Grey-Mane came and expressed regret over Natashas death with Eragon, but Eragon didn't stay and chat. Eragon met up with his father at his sisters tomb, he passed over Natashas ebony sword and dagger. "She wanted you to have these." the old man said. Eragon took them.
As Eragon walked through the marketplace he noticed Idolaf staring at him from the corner of his eyes, when Eragon looked over Idolaf immediately looked away. Eragon looked away again and out of the corner of his eye noticed once again Idolaf was looking. Eragon approached, angry. "Greetings, kinsman." Idolaf said, which only ticked Eragon off even more. "What dagger did ya use, huh?" Idolaf looked at Eragon like he was an idiot, "There was a lot of blood." Idolaf grunted, "She was poisoned fool, the whole town knows it but not even her own brother?" Eragon gripped Idolafs shirt, Idolaf pushed him back. The next few minutes flew by like seconds, Eragon let loose in a rage. Eragon had never killed anyone like this before, he'd only fought the fierce forsworn. Eragon grabbed Idolaf and brought him to the ground using immense strength and momentum. Idolaf's head hit the stone floor, they were near the bottom of the steps leading out of the marketplace. Eragon drew Natashas ebony dagger and began stabbing Idolaf in the chest, screaming in anger. After the stabs he began punching him in the face, Idolaf was too weak to resist. The stabs has brought Idolaf to a state of helplessness, he struggled to no avail. Eragon pulled Idolaf up by the collar and punched him back down to the stone. Eragon pulled the note out, and shoved it in Idolafs mouth, the one that had been on the door. "I HATE YOU!" Eragon screamed, and left one final stab in the face. This act occurred in public, and it all happened too fast for anyone to stop him. Eragon was pulled off of Idolafs helpless dead body and thrown to the ground to be aprehended. Eragon was tossed in the dungeons. He believed his life was coming to a close, his sister had died and he was likely to be executed or spend his life in the dungeons. To Eragons surprise, he was released the next morning, Eragons father 'proved' the battle-borns were responsible for Natashas poisoning. Eragon didn't ask about the evidence, he just hugged his father. When they got to the house they didn't speak about it, they were lucky the Jarl accepted an eye for an eye. Idolaf and Natasha would be sorting things out in Sovenguard. Eragons father handed him a note and a package, "The note is for you and the package is for Freyja." Eragon didn't read the note, he couldn't bear to read his sisters thoughts while writing to her brother knowing she will be dead when he opens this. "Freyja... Why Freyja?" Eragon asked. "I don't know son... I don't know." His father replied. Eragon left the package in his room, the note in his pocket, and left the house. Eragon went to The Bannered Mare, and sat at the bar. It was now several hours later and Eragon was very intoxicated, and he felt guilty as hell for it. Natasha would be horrified, wasting himself away like this. Eragon rented a room, rather than walking back, and just sat in it. He didn't sleep all night, and halfway through the night he walked home. He had no sleep since his sisters passing, he couldn't sleep. He lay restless in bed, desperately trying to put the shattered pieces of his life together. In the middle of the night, he sat up and read the note his sister had left him.
"My dearest brother Eragon,
If you are reading this I am no longer with you. It pains me I had to leave you but everything will be ok, It pains me knowing I may not have gotten to say goodbye but you'll be fine. I rewrite this letter every week, knowing I can die any day. I have just came and seen you, and you are out buying ingredients for a lovely dinner. I was worried that my unexpected arrival would burden you, but you and father seem eccentric about my arrival. But if I die in the coming days, know that I will always be by your side. I do not know what has killed me, maybe a glorious battle in which I died honorably, maybe a knife in the back. But do not mourn, I am waiting for you in Sovenguard.
I remember when you were just a boy, mother smacked you for misbehaving and she said 'You know I still love you when I smack you', and you asked 'Why do you smack me?' so mother said 'When you be bad you need to be smacked otherwise you will keep being bad.' so you replied with 'Thank you for smacking me, mummy.' and hugged her tightly.
It was the cutest thing I had ever witnessed, and I vowed to tell you about it one day. What better than to tell you this happy memory from Sovenguard?"
Eragon continued to read, there were tears on the paper belonging to Eragon and his sister alike. Eragon finished the letter, and kept it in a thin pocket in his armor. "Shes gone... My... She's gone..." Eragon shuddered, she was in his alive and warm less than three days ago. She was gone now, and Eragon couldn't handle that. The next morning Eragon left his room, still having no sleep. The lack of sleep was showing on his face, he looked awful. Eragon couldn't think straight, in his mind he envisioned walking in and slaughtering every man woman and child belonging to the battle-born family. Eragon crept up to their manor, quite loudly, and heard sobbing inside. He had his dagger drawn, and as he heard the sobbing coming from an unknown woman he peered through a window and saw a woman comforting a child. He then looked at his dagger, "What have I done?" Eragon asked himself. He had brought about the same pain to others which Eragon himself felt, this could not happen again. Eragon didn't know that he would come back for the battle-borns, this moment of self reflection would not last while he was in this state. Eragon trudged over to the gates of whiterun, and headed under the small bridge where water was flowing. He cleaned his dagger, and proceeded to the Bannered mare. His mind was too blown away by what had happened to even pay second thought to the crisis at hand, Dragon riders returning and the empire and Stormcloaks coming to a temporary peace. Eragon sit at the bar, not ordering anything, just sitting with his head in his hands. Dry tears down his face, his mind was clouded and his heart ached. His stomach felt sick as all these emotions affected him deeply. Pain, agitation, despair, agony, loss, mourning, all flooded into his mind. He began remembering every fight he had with Natasha, there wasn't many, they didn't fight often. Growing up relying on each other in a small family led them to be close with little fighting, but he still felt awful for the petty ones he had caused.
So here Eragon sit, his head in hands at the worst point in his life he had ever been. There was still that package sitting his room for Freyja, he had tried shaking it but everything would have been kept in place by something as Eragon didn't hear anything budge. At the time curiosity ate at him as to what his dead sister could have left this Khajiit, but now he didn't care. He thought he would leave Whiterun tomorrow to search for her, but little did he know she was on his way to him.
