Interlude: Like Mother, Like Daughter
The sickly purple glow engulfed the mortal, and temporarily concealed Serana as she made a futile attempt to keep her pet. If this Sithia was fortunate, she would emerge at the dock by the watchtower. If not, then she would suffer a slow death and for eternity in Coldharbour. She deserved such a fate for giving only insults when he offered immortality and power beyond measure.
His daughter would not be pleased, but she had to understand that no one was permitted to insult him without paying the price. That her pet left his hall alive was the most she could ask of him.
Now with that unpleasantness behind them, he would retire with his daughter to his chambers where he would greet her more fondly, away from the prying eyes of his court.
The orb of the portal faded away, taking the mortal with it.
'No…'
Not just the mortal. Serana. Gone.
Harkon dropped heavily to the floor, cracking the flagstones under his claws, eyes fixed on the empty space where his daughter had been.
Garan cautiously cleared his throat. "Perhaps two of the newer members of the court would like to escort Lady Serana back inside once she has said her goodbyes to her mortal saviour?"
"Allow me, my lord!" Stalf and Salonia chorused.
Harkon blinked and forced himself to focus. Any more delay would be seen as weakness. He looked at the volunteers, who were glaring at each other. The rivalry of their masters continued with them. It would have been amusing at any other time, but not now. Not with Serana slipping away from him with every moment that passed.
"Yes, yes, go." He ached to rush to the dock himself, to correct his mistake with the mortal and bring Serana back. But the lord of the castle did not do such things when he had servants to do his bidding.
Harkon forced himself to stand still, arms crossed and eyes closed. He must appear patient and calm. Dignified, above all else.
Stalf and Salonia would return soon with his daughter, maybe even with the mortal if Serana could not bear to be parted from her. She would be turned by force if necessary.
What was taking them so long? He forced himself to be still, to keep his claws from tapping out his impatience upon the floor.
Finally the gatekeeper hurried inside, his aged heart racing, bringing with him the bitter stench of fear. It was too much to hope for that it was only at beholding the true form of a vampire lord.
"Milord, I…"
Harkon clenched a fist, gripping the thrall telekinetically and lifting him off his feet. "Where is my daughter?"
He loosened his grip enough so that the pathetic mortal could speak.
"Gone," the gatekeeper sobbed.
"And those I sent to escort her?"
"Dead, milord. Impaled by ice, both of them."
Vingalmo and Orthjolf hissed at the news of their progeny's demise.
Harkon crushed the unfortunate gatekeeper's throat and drained him into a dry husk, the blood feeding his rising bloodlust. He let the body drop.
His daughter, gone. His Scroll, gone. Betrayed!
He spun, and hurled the high table off the dais, uncaring that it scattered the flesh of cattle and spilled goblets of blood everywhere.
His throne was next, the intricately carved gilded wood splintering against the flagstones.
He hissed at the sight of his portrait. Of Serana. Her mother's daughter after all. Valerica had taken her from him just as she had taken his Scrolls. Everything he treasured, lost.
"You are dead to me!" he roared, and lashed out with his claws. With that single blow, Serana was torn from his side, the portrait ruined. Just as his hopes and dreams of Serana's return had been ripped apart.
Worse than her mother, she had betrayed him for a mere mortal.
"I'll make you wish you had never been born, my darling," he snarled.
Harkon turned to his assembled court. Useless, every one of them, standing staring like cattle. "Get out! Find her and her mortal pet. Bring them to me, alive. Serana is not to be permanently damaged – that is my right. Do what you will to her pet, so long as she remains alive, for she is to be brought here so that I may kill her while my daughter watches, helpless." His face contorted in what passed for a smile in his true form.
"If I find any of you within these walls without news before my traitor daughter is returned to me, I'll strip the flesh from your bones. Do not keep me waiting. Go!"
As one, his court fled like startled deer.
Harkon dissolved into a swarm of bats, all the myriad parts of him joined by the heat of his rage. He reformed seconds later in Serana's chambers. With another swipe of his claws, that once treasured painting and the headboard of the bed behind it exploded in a shower of splinters and scraps of canvas.
Her ridiculous potted plant at the foot of her bed was next, drained to a shrivelled, blackened husk.
His eyes roamed around for the next of Serana's belongings to bear the brunt of his fury. Blood red magic throbbed in his clawed hands. An equally red haze overtook his vision. When it cleared, he stood in his pathetic human-like form.
The doorway to Serana's room was before him, blocked by rubble, joining Valerica's in ruin. He staggered away, to his own chambers. Away from the reminders of his wife and daughter and their treachery.
He sank down into his second throne and watched the flames dance in the fireplace until they died, the firewood collapsing into ash. Just as his hopes had.
Detecting no other presence in his domain, he allowed his grief to consume him. Harkon fell forward onto his knees and wept bitter tears, the blood trickling down his gaunt cheeks.
"Serana…"
She would pay dearly for this betrayal, and Valerica even more so for poisoning his daughter against him. As for Serana's mortal pet, she was a dead woman walking.
Let them run. They could not hide from him. He would find them, and he would kill them. They would beg for death before the end, then their souls would serve Lord Molag Bal, suffering in Coldharbour.
AN: Harkon is very much not a happy vampire. It's probably not going to end well the next time he sees his darling daughter.
Coming up next: Serana and Sithia on the road to Fort Dawnguard.