Bound. In silver no less. Tied and gagged and left kneeling at the floor of her “mistress”, or so the vampire in the great hall had proclaimed. It made her and the wolf within her furious, only dignity restraining her from growling and snarling like a beast. Not in this den of evil.

Serana gazed at the bound woman before her, schooling her features into a mask of dispassionate neutrality, but it hid the fact that her mind was reeling with shock. Two of her father’s monstrous guards had dragged her before the court of Harkon and said that she had been caught sneaking through their lands in beast form. A werewolf, like the guards holding her, free until she had been caught. Her father had been in a merry mood, greatly helped by the blood he glutted himself on in celebration of the Blood Moon, and had said--

Well.

“A daughter as devoted as you should have a pet, my child.”

That was when the woman-- who had been unconscious-- came to life with stunning ferocity, clearly enraged by his decree. That was when chattel had been summoned to bind her in silver, at which point her guards were no longer necessary and were bidden to leave. The cloth gag was because she had quickly resorted to snarling obscenities, most of which had to do with the various parentages’ of the court.

It wasn’t as though Serana herself was very thrilled with this turn of events. Her study of necromancy and alchemy kept her well occupied, she didn’t need this… distraction. What was she supposed to do with a werewolf as a pet? Those enraged silver eyes staring daggers at her gave her the the impression she would rather die than be chained for very long.

What was she to do?

“I will remove your gag if you keep a civil tongue,” she said, careful not to drop that hateful gaze. Wolves were particular about unspoken battles of will, and the first to look away would win the first.

Of course, vampires had different rules.

A low growl built in her chest, but she did not look away, and Serana called on her vampiric nature to draw the woman into her eyes, a gift of the blood that let her lull chattel into a state of dreamlike calm. It wasn’t something she had ever tried on a werewolf, so she wasn’t sure if it would work, but after a few moments the growling subsided, and she reached again to loosen the woman's bindings.

The chains came away with a sharp rattling sound and Serana bit back a hiss when she saw the flesh revealed was burned in a pattern resembling the silver links. It couldn't be comfortable, though the other woman made no sign of relief to have the silver removed. She simply stared at the wall behind Serana, blinking slowly.

Now what? When Serana's trance wore off, the werewolf woman would again be as wild and untamed as she had been before her father's court. If only there was a way to get through to her, make her understand their positions were not vastly different. Ever since Serana's mother's disappearance, her father had become erratic, prone to wild mood swings and violence. In fact, there were days when Serana wondered if it might not be safer to strike out on her own, away from her family home that had become a tomb of bad memories.

But to explain this to a woman who would want her dead if not for her stolen will? Unlikely.

Still…

“Can you understand me?” she asked, assuming the answer was yes by the way the werewolf woman had reacted to Harkon's pronouncement. It couldn't hurt to be sure, and Serana was glad to see her nod with a stiff neck.

“Good,” she said. She realized she was wringing her hands and put a stop to it by firmly clasping the offending appendages together. “My father has given you to me as a pet. I don't have a need for a pet, nor do I think you would make a very good one, but nevertheless here we are.”

She stopped long enough to get the measure of the werewolf woman's reaction to her words. Muffled rage flared in her silver eyes at first, only to subside into seething resentment seconds later. She took that to mean understanding of her situation and started a slow walk around the room. She noticed how the woman's eyes followed her as far as she could without turning her head. Serana's gaze wouldn't last much longer.

Choosing her words carefully, she said, “I am not like my father. I don't take pleasure in seeing other creatures subjugated. I don't revel in shed blood.”

Silver eyes met hers in a challenging stare. She didn't believe her. That was fine.

“I spend much of my time in my mother's gardens, or in our laboratory,” she went on. “I don't expect I'll have much use for you at my beck and call. If you keep to yourself, keep your head down, my father's court will leave you be.”

Challenge became suspicion.

Serana, somewhat frustrated, let out a harsh sigh and crossed the room swiftly to stand in front of the kneeling woman. “Believe this,” she said, emotion bleeding into her voice to make it sharp. “If you do not play the part of pet, you will be killed, or worse, be twisted into one of my father's abominations. The guards who brought you in? Were once as you are now. Now see what they have become.”

Her silver eyes went wide with horror. Harkon had taken a creature of two natures and merged both into a hulking bipedal with wolfish features and a ferocity tempered only by her father's will. If not for his intercession, they would be ravening beasts tearing through the countryside until a mob put them down.

But Serana didn't think she needed to share that much, her words already seemed to accomplish their goal. The werewolf woman's shoulders loosened, and her head bowed.

Curiosity struck Serana. “What is your name?” she asked.

“Elayn,” came the hoarse reply, and then she said no more.