The Return of Sithis, Volume 1: Awakening

"You're no wife of mine," Varren growls, rising to his feet. There was no use hiding anymore, not now. He lowers his hood and steps into the light. "You're no more my wife now Njada, then you were on Solstheim. You lost the privilege to call yourself that when you abandoned me and our daughter to join the Brotherhood."

The beautiful and sadistic Listener rolls her eyes. "Privilege? Just as arrogant as ever, I see." She suddenly breaks into a cruel grin. "You know love, technically we're still married. We never had an official divorce back home."

Don't remind me... "I'll be sure to draft up the papers as soon as I'm able," he says sarcastically, glaring at her with extreme hatred. "I should have killed you on Solstheim. You're damn lucky your master intervened."

Njada Shadowhand, Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, Avatar of Sithis and Once-Queen of the Dominion only laughs. It was a soft laugh, a laugh of delight that was so eerily familiar it made Varren's skin crawl. He felt sick from it. "Now, now love. Remember, you're still on parole. That can change as quickly as my master's whim. Which, is fairly quick, I might add. Oh, yes! I suppose I should thank you for reminding me. How is our little girl these days?"

Varren gulps as a sea of emotion threatened to swallow him whole. "Leanne is... Dead," he replies, his voice barely more than a whisper.

The Listener's grin vanishes. ".... What?"

If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn she still had a heart by her reaction. Varren gulps again, desperately trying to keep his emotions in check, and the memories at bay. "She was killed during the initial assault on Auridon. She had been visiting a friend, for a simple vacation. It was her first vacation in years. I... I still have the postcard she sent me. But... Then your master's hordes descended. They razed the city to the ground and slaughtered everyone. Women, children... I remember reading the reports of the first responders, those few who survived. The demons massacred the men, violated the women, and mercilessly killed the children. Then, all the corpses were beheaded and impaled on the very spears that should have protected them. Our daughter is dead, Njada. You brutally murdered her."

Silence ensues. Again, if he didn't know any better, he could have sworn he saw horror, sorrow, even shame in her gaze. But that was only his foolish mind playing tricks. His Njada was long gone, replaced by this monster who looked like her. "I didn't participate in that battle," the Listener replies, her voice more subdued than usual.

Varren's head snaps up, and his vision dims. "What did you just say?" He asks, his voice deadly quiet. The metallic ring of enchanted steel being drawn echoes throughout the hall. Dawnbreaker glows menacingly in the dim light. "I'm afraid I didn't hear you, Listener. It sounded to me like you used the word 'battle'."

Varren slowly steps forward then, his mind racing, his blood boiling. In that one moment, he was as terrifying as the Dread Lord Himself, and even the Listener stepped back. "That was no battle. Were you not listening to me before? That was a massacre. My people, my family, my own daughter... You did this, Njada. All this destruction, all this death... It's all your fault!!!!!"

Suddenly, he remembered how he defeated her before. He didn't picture his wife before him, or even the Listener. When he fought her on Solstheim, all he pictured was his daughter's murderer. In that moment, Varren did probably the stupidest thing he's ever done: he lunged.

After putting Kira to bed, Siegemund was co-reading a book with Bephle about vampirism and lycanthropy.
He snorted, the two powers were a crutch, and crutche were something he learned not to rely on.
"Well, what do you think?" Nephle asked, closing the book.
"I definitely don't want to become one of those." He replied.

He still hadn't forgot about his revenge, and patiently waited for her to fall asleep.
He crept into the bed and pulled the covers over himself and gave an evil smirk.
"My revenge shall be had." He thought wryly.

The next morning Siegemund rolled over.
He seemed to be having a nightmare.
His eyes snapped open and he gasped. He shouldn't be sitting around in Whiterun.
He clenched his eyes tightly as the nightmare of a ruined future disappeared.

"I wonder if I'm wasting my time?" He said aloud.
Perhaps he had been caught up on the euphoria of having remaining family.
He sighed and dressed in his modified Nordic armor and stepped out.
"I'm requesting for a leave." He told Bela, who was patrolling the area.

"Why?" She asked sharply. "I have important business to do away from Skyrim. Like stopping Sithis." He retorted.
Bela gave him a barking laugh. "Defeat Sithis? You're a bit to arrogant for that." She smiled.
Siegemund growled and brushed past her to to the papers on the desk. "I'll return once I'm done." He stated, and walked back to his room.
She reminded him to much of the Cyrodiliac family for his taste.

Bela watched him with interest and grinned as he walked into his room.
"We shall see Siegemund." She muttered, walking off. She had other matters to attend too.
Later that day, three figures were walking away from Whiterun.

"Siegemund I hope you are right about this dream." Nephle muttered, carrying Kira on her back.
"I'm positive. I've broken down the book we found in the caves. I'm working on the second word currently." Siegemund said, stopping to a halt.

"You wound me!" Dorian clutched his heart as he fell backwards only to catch himself.

The cart began moving, and the trip to Winterhold was mostly silent. As they neared the snowy Hold, a lack of good sleep was starting to get to Avenicci. Slowly, unconsciously, he lowered his head as he leaned to the side, resting it in Lorelei's lap.

Siegemund glanced up at the keep of winterhold. They had finally arrived, and he was here to advance his magical capabilities.
"Now my feet hurt." He admitted.

"I might as well learn some too." Nephle remarked, as they walked through the gates. "You know magic?" Siegemund asked shocked.

"A little." She admitted with a sly smile.
"You never cease to amaze me." Siegemund laughed.

"Okay..." Avenicci muttered as he sat back down in the carriage before it stopped.

The titans track Varren all the way into the western mountains, on the border of the Pale and Eastmarch. He was tired, weary, and starving, but he kept going. He feared the Daedra might have some arcane way to track him, and the only solution he could think of was to crawl into some long forgotten hole and wait it out. At the very least, he would find out if the Daedra really did have some way to track him. Eventually, he found a small hideout beneath the waters of Mara Eye pond, which turned out to be the home of two reclusive vampires. Both vampires were swiftly subdued by his Thu'um, turning from habitual killers to his loyal subjects. In hindsight, he probably should have tried that on the army of titans, but it slipped his mind while he was running for his life. Fortunately for him, it appeared the Daedra didn't have some magical way to track him, and since he covered his tracks well enough to make Elena proud, the titans wandered around aimlessly for a bit before leaving. Either that or the Dread Lord decided He had better things to do than to hound an Altmer he had already killed once. You'll pay for underestimating me... Your arrogance will be your downfall, Dread Lord...

A couple days passed, while Varren healed his wounds and recovered his energy. His two undead servants were more than happy to fetch food for him, as well as patrol and keep an eye out in case the titans returned, leaving him enough time to rest. He tried contacting Lady Nocturnal multiple times with no success, which was really worrying. With the Dragonfires down, he should be able to contact her with a thought. Something big must be going down in Oblivion.

When it became clear he was safe and sound, and it was safe to travel again, Varren sent one of his servants to retrieve his Ebony armor. Before long, he was dressed once more in his favorite armor, and on the road back to Riften. He left the two vampires under his control, in case he needed their services in the future. He was a little surprised how quickly his powers were progressing. He found it quite easy now, to keep his Shout in effect, even over multiple people and great distances. It was a little frightening actually, even to him.

It wasn't that long before he found himself home again, walking up to the front gate of Riften. "Halt!" One of the guards shouts, surprising him. What was this all about?

"No one goes in or out of the city!"

Varren blinks. "But I live here," he replies calmly. "What happened?"

"We don't know," the guard says, trying to conceal his fear. "Jarl Silvertongue just up and disappeared, without even a word to his Steward. Fran Snow-Shod, Riften's Steward, is trying to contain the panic but... She's having a helluva time doing it. You picked a bad time to return home, friend. Let me get the gate for you."

The helpful guard does just that, and Varren strolls into the old city, perplexed. What would cause a Jarl to vanish? Surely he must have had a good reason. From everything he's heard about the infamous Jarl of Riften, he was a very intelligent and cunning man, a man not to be trifled with. A man like that wouldn't simply disappear, unless there was a dire reason for him to do so. Varren was pondering asking Fran Snow-Shod if she needed any help, when he reached the secret entrance to the Guild, behind the Temple of Mara. He pressed the button, making the stone slab grind out of the way, and climbed down the ladder. Immediately, he knew something was terribly wrong. The usual bustle and hustle of the Guild was eerily silent. Usually, it was as loud as a hurricane down here, even in the Cistern. But now... Not a single sound, not even a drop of water.

As he let go of the ladder and turned around, he went deathly pale. What... In the world...? Everyone... Everyone was gone! "Elena!" He called out, admittedly starting to panic a bit. "Kya! Talvas! Hey, cat! Someone answer me!"

The entire Guild was a virtual ghost town. Suddenly, Varren remembered Elena's note. He took it out and read it again. She knew. Elena knew something was going to happen to her, to the Guild. He clenches his fists, balling the note up. Don't worry. I promise. I'll find you, if it's the last thing I do.

With a million questions and even more worries, Varren leaves the Guild and Riften altogether, his new destination the snowy city of Winterhold. It was time to meet the Archmage.

"I'm a master of hundreds of culinary styles, my dear." Dorian replied as he bowed. "Though with the way that you have been acting lately, I may have to relinquish my skills from you."