This fic is a pseudo-prequel to Causa Mortis, so it will make more sense if you have read that story first. Also, I suggest reading the Elaninde Listener series by Heiwako if you'd like to learn more about Elaninde. And since this was inspired by Heiwako's Season Unending fic, I'm going to recommend reading that one too! :)
Warnings for Malrian being creepy and controlling, and some crude humor, but nothing too bad.
Lumen stands on a small pedestal, wearing nothing but her underclothes and feeling horribly awkward. An Altmer seamstress and her staff flit around her like a carnival of carrion birds, throwing layers of tulle and organza around her body, and then taking it away before Lumen can even begin to figure out what kind of shape they are hoping to create.
Once every year, Malrian brings a tailor to his home and commissions her to create a new wardrobe for Lumen. The clothes he dresses her in would befit any Altmer lady of high-standing. They are made from the finest fabrics imported from Alinor, and modeled after the most current Altmer fashions. This year, the popular colors are gold and silver combined with sparkling pastels that make the wearer appear as a rare jewel.
Malrian sits in his favorite chair, watching the chaos and occasionally commenting if he likes or dislikes a certain color or fabric. "Valyrie, I'd like to put a rush on this order, particularly for the summer gowns. My sisters will be coming to visit in two months and I want my pet to look her best."
"Of course, Justiciar," the seamstress replies, dipping into a deep bow before ordering her staff to pack up their supplies.
Now free of miles of fabric, pins, and too many busy hands, Lumen steps down from the pedestal and one of Valyrie's staff picks it up and takes it away. The gaggle of tailors leave the room in a bustle of noise, and silence falls over Lumen and Malrian when the door closes with a soft click.
"May I dress, master?" Lumen asks softly, wrapping her arms around her body to preserve what's left of her modesty.
"Not yet," Malrian says, watching her with a lazy smirk on his face. "Come here and stand before me. Somehow I have failed to notice how much you've grown this past year."
Feeling suddenly self-conscious, but not enough to prevent her from following an order, Lumen walks up to Malrian and asks, "Does it displease you?"
"Oh no, pet," he purrs, swirling a glass of red wine in his hand. "On the contrary, I am pleased with what I see. Most Bosmeri females tend to be lithe and quite scrawny, not unlike their Altmer counterparts. But you, pet, you are- oh, what's the word? Buxom. Zaftig, even. Though I am loathe to use a Nord loanword, it is a rather fitting description for you."
"Thank you, master," Lumen says, inclining her head.
Malrian sets his glass down on the carved oak table beside his chair and motions for Lumen to step closer. "My sisters, the evil harpies that they are, may try to insult you for it," he says, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair and leaning forward. "Don't listen to them, you are exactly as I want you to be."
"Yes, master," Lumen stammers, unused to such compliments.
"You may dress now," he says, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.
The impending arrival of Malrian's sisters is a source of great excitement among the guards, and a source of immense distress among the help. The maids have all worked themselves into a dither in regards to the cleanliness of the house. Unfortunately, Lumen seems to be catching their ire at every turn. In just the span of one afternoon she was scolded for walking barefoot across a recently polished floor, thrown out of the kitchens for asking for a peach tart, and when she finally left the house hoping to seek solace outside, she made the mistake of walking beneath a window just as one of the maids was pouring a bucket of dirty water out of it.
"Honestly," Malrian huffs. "The one day I need you to behave like a proper young lady, and you go and make a damn nuisance of yourself."
"I'm sorry, master," Lumen says, shivering as she piles her wet clothes in a soggy heap on the veranda.
"You're lucky I don't have time to punish you," he says, draping a towel around her shoulders and roughly shoving her inside the house. "My sisters will be arriving in less than an hour. So get cleaned up and get dressed. I expect you to look and act civilized!"
"Yes, master." Lumen stares at her feet, not daring to make eye contact with him. "I'm sorry, master. I'll behave."
"You're testing my patience," Malrian says, and Lumen walks faster when he snaps his fingers. "Go!"
Lumen tugs the towel tighter around her shoulders and runs to her bedroom, eager to escape Malrian's view just in case he decides he does have time to punish her. Once inside the relative safety of her room, she drops her towel on the floor and takes a seat on the pouffe in front of her vanity. It will take hours for her hair to dry, and time is not a luxury Lumen has. So she pulls her long hair into a bun and secures it with a gold clip, adorned with emeralds and diamonds; a gift from Malrian for good behavior.
The maids like to call her 'Malrian's pampered pet' and though Lumen does not know how other Altmer treat their pets, she knows her life is fairly easy as long as she follows his rules. Disobedience is severely punished, while obedience earns her gifts and affection. As much as she hates herself for it, she does prefer the latter.
With her hair taken care of, Lumen puts on a dress that Malrian chose for her the previous night; a sleeveless, green dress made of a thin material that clings to her curves. The skirt falls to her ankles, and there are slits on each side that reveal her legs. After stepping into a pair of velvet slippers, she looks at herself in the mirror. She's presentable, except that her dress needs to be buttoned in the back, and there's only one mer who can help her out with that task; Malrian. No one in his household staff is allowed to touch his beloved pet without his express permission.
A shiver runs through her at the thought of pestering Malrian. He's been in a foul mood thanks to the imminent arrival of his sisters, and Lumen has often been the outlet of his frustration. Still, she needs his help; the punishment she might get for disturbing him is likely to be less severe than the one she gets for walking around half dressed. After draping a sash made of golden lamé across her arm, Lumen darts out of her room. She doesn't get far, however, as she runs directly into a tall, female Altmer.
"F-forgive me, mistress!" Lumen falls to her knees and bows at the woman's feet. She flinches, expecting her transgression to be met with screeching or the bitter sting of destruction magic.
"Oh, do get up!" A high-pitched voice trills. "You'll soil your lovely dress! Come on! Up! Up!"
Lumen stands, and before she can get a good look at the woman, she's grabbing Lumen by the shoulders and spinning her around. "Let me help you with this," she says, quickly buttoning the dress, and then grabbing the sash from her arm and tying it around her waist.
"Thank you, mistress," Lumen says, turning around and bending into a slight bow.
"Oh, enough with this 'mistress' business, just call me Aelfwynie, dear! Or you can call me Wynnie for short. But not Wynalicious, only my darling husband is allowed to call me that," Aelfwynie says with a wink and a giggle.
Lumen is dumbfounded. By the way Malrian had been describing his sisters, she had thought they would all be cruel, hideous Hagravens. Though he had mentioned that he has a favorite, and Aelfwynie must be her. She looks very similar to Malrian with her bright, blue eyes and long, blonde hair. Aelfwynie looks like a princess; her hair is curled and twisted into an intricate up do that is held in place with combs in the shape of butterflies. Her dress is a white organza gown with gold butterflies embroidered across the corset and skirt, and she is made even taller by her golden, high heel shoes.
"Thank you, Lady Aelfwynie," she says, hoping the rest of Malrian's sisters are as kind as she is.
Aelfwynie links her arm with Lumen's and practically drags her down the hallway. "You must be my darling brother's little pet, yes? We were all getting ready to sit down and have some wine, and you simply must come join us!"
They enter the parlor to find two women sitting on a sofa, facing a second sofa where Malrian is sitting. It's easy for Lumen to guess which sister is Elenwen. Like Malrian, the eldest is dressed in Thalmor robes, and her wavy blonde hair is neatly brushed back in a traditional Altmer style. The other must be Elaninde; her flame red hair and striking green eyes make her stand out among her pale siblings. She has a bored expression on her face and is slouching on a sofa with one leg draped over the armrest, and she's wearing the skimpiest dress Lumen has ever seen.
"Oh, Malrian," Aelfwynie sing-songs, "look what I found!" At Malrian's resulting glare, Aelfwynie pulls away from Lumen, fluttering her hands in the air as she takes a seat next to him. "Divines, I forgot how selfish you are with your things. Sometimes I wish I wouldn't have spoiled you so much when you were a little boy, but I just couldn't help myself. You were so adorable!"
Lumen's eyes meet Malrian's, and he nods at her; an indication that he is pleased with her appearance. She kneels beside him and sits quietly while he and Elenwen continue their conversation which Aelfwynie had interrupted. Elenwen completely ignores Lumen's presence, while Elaninde looks at her with interest, and Lumen has the distinct feeling that catching Elaninde's interest is a bad thing.
"Malrian, I want to know why you haven't responded to any of the potential breeding contracts I've sent. You realize you're quite lucky to be given a choice in the matter, and I suggest you choose before I choose for you." Elenwen's smile is more vicious than a wolf's snarl, making her threat that much more severe.
"I simply haven't had the time to look through them, dear sister," Malrian says smoothly, "I've been busy."
Elenwen ignores his flimsy excuse. "I suggest you respond to the one from Aerynn of House Jorian. Her youngest daughter Ravienne is interested in a contract with you. They are a very well-bred family and quite wealthy."
"Aerynn is a cow and I am sure her daughter is as well," Malrian says, folding his arms and leaning back on the couch.
"It's the best you're going to get! Honestly, Malrian, for an Altmer of your age and social standing to remain uncontracted and childless is highly irregular. It's time for you to do your duty to the Aldmeri Dominion."
"I have done my duty!"
"It'll only take ten minutes of your time, brother," Elaninde purrs, her lips curling into a malicious smile. "Five if you're really determined."
"By the Eight..." Malrian grumbles, reaching for his glass of wine.
"Oh, sweetie. I think I understand," Aelfwynie says, and pats him on the knee. "Are you not attracted to women? Because you know we can always work around that. Most women are perfectly willing to let their partner's lover, um, well- get things started as long as you remember to put your um, er- you know what in the proper place."
Malrian sputters and chokes on his wine, and Lumen grabs his glass to prevent it from spilling on his robes. Aelfwynie roughly slaps him on the back until he finally pushes her away. "That is not the issue," he gasps.
Elaninde laughs. "You're such a prude!"
"Don't act like such a little boy, Malrian. It's a perfectly acceptable method of conception. It's the only way Rulindil managed to sire five children," Elenwen says.
"I really don't want to talk about this anymore."
"Fine, I'll leave you be, for now. But this conversation is far from over," Elenwen says, frowning. Her gaze falls on Lumen for the first time since her arrival and she says, "I would like some more wine."
Obediently, Lumen rises from her place at her master's side and retrieves a decanter from a nearby serving table. She carefully refills Elenwen's wine glass, then glances around the room to see who else needs their wine refilled.
"Speaking of breeding," Elaninde says, holding her glass out for Lumen to fill. "Have you considered breeding your pet? She could supply you with an army of Bosmer with those wide, birthing hips."
Lumen's expression is as impassive as ever, but internally she's screaming. She doubts Malrian would ever agree to such an idea, but she's not certain that his sisters would respect his opinions on the matter. They seemed rather keen to force him into breeding, after all.
"She's just overfed," Elenwen sniffs.
"Ooh!" Aelfwynie squeals. "Our steward is a Bosmer and he would be perfect for her! He's got blonde hair and the most gorgeous, green eyes. They would have lovely babies!"
Lumen and Malrian share a look, and for the first time in her life, she can see sympathy in his eyes. "I have no interest in breeding my pet," he says, then looks away from Lumen. "There are enough Bosmeri mongrels running around Tamriel, already."
Elenwen nods her agreement. "They're like rabbits. You start out with two and in the matter of a few months you have twenty."
Rather glad they are back to insults and not focused on her future children, Lumen refills Elaninde's glass, and then turns away to serve Aelfwynie. However a pinch to her rear has her jumping and squealing while Elaninde cackles. Malrian glares at his sister, but he's not about to scold his elder sister, so he turns his attention to Lumen instead.
"Really, pet," he snaps, "have a little decorum."
"I- I'm so sorry," she stammers, and after refilling Aelfwynie and Malrian's glasses she places the decanter back on the serving table, and returns to her master's side. The afternoon wears on without further incident. The conversation turns from breeding, to the Great War, to family news, and gossip about other Thalmor families. Elaninde eventually declares her boredom and leaves to explore the gardens with Aelfwynie in tow. With them gone, an uncomfortable silence falls over Elenwen and Malrian.
"At least tell me why you are so against the idea of breeding." Elenwen's voice is softer and less authoritative than before when her two sisters were in the room.
Malrian sighs. "I am not certain how to explain it," he says, his foot tapping loudly against the marble floor. "And I am not certain if I want to."
"I cannot help you if I do not know what the issue is," Elenwen says, her gaze flicking between Lumen and Malrian. "Don't tell me you prefer you waste your seed on your pet."
"Don't be crass!" he snaps, and Lumen flinches at the tone of his voice.
Elenwen shrugs. "I am not being crass, Malrian. It is not uncommon for Thalmor of our station to keep pets, and even though the idea disgusts me, it is also not uncommon for those relationships to turn intimate."
Malrian pinches the bridge of his nose. "My pet provides me with company and entertainment, and nothing more."
"All right," Elenwen says, though she doesn't sound entirely convinced. "So I ask again; why have you not agreed to a breeding contract?"
"Pet, leave the room," he says, and Lumen quickly obeys, even though she's burning with curiosity. What could he possibly have to say that he doesn't want her to hear? After shutting the door to the parlor behind her, she runs down the hallway. There are two doors on either side of the parlor; one that leads to the foyer, and another that leads to Malrian's office. His office has two entrances as well; the one leading from the parlor and another that connects to the hallway.
Lumen slips into his office through the second door, and after stepping out of her shoes she quietly pads to the door that leads to the parlor. She presses her ear against it, hoping she hasn't missed too much of the conversation.
"Malrian, please talk to me. There's no reason to drag this out."
After a few moments he finally says, "The act of mating disgusts me. I can't do it. I won't do it."
"You mean- you've never?"
"I have, and I didn't like it. It's so undignified and dirty, and ugh- moist. The only thing that should ever be moist is cake."
"Malrian, really-" Elenwen's voice breaks off into a soft chuckle. "Just… lie back and think of Alinor."
"Great," he snaps. "Now you're making fun of me."
"So? You're being ridiculous! It's not as if you have to carry the little parasite inside of you for months on end. And if it's moisture that bothers you, dear brother, just be grateful you don't have to actually give birth to the wretched thing."
"Elenwen, please," Malrian says weakly. "That's quite enough."
"Is it? Because I am fully prepared to describe the horrors of childbirth to you in full, gory detail. I went through it twice, as you know. Even if you are the weaker sex, you really do have the easier way of it when it comes to breeding. So stop acting like a spoiled brat and do your duty to the Dominion!" Elenwen's voice never rises in pitch, but her tone brooks no argument.
Lumen backs away from the door, surprised that the man who could order her to kill on little more than a whim would be so disgusted by the act of childbirth. Even more surprising is the fact that he was so disgusted by the simple act of sex, though his admission certainly does explain why Malrian reacted so violently once when he discovered Lumen with a boy.
It was last summer, and the farmer who made weekly delivers to the estate had fallen ill, so he sent his farmhand in his stead. To Lumen's immense pleasure, the farmhand was incredibly handsome. He had tanned skin from working the fields, black hair, and an intoxicating smile that made her stomach do flips, and made her skin feel overly warm. After many weeks of clumsy flirtations, Lumen had pulled him behind the garden shed to try out a few things she'd only read about in racy romance novels. Unfortunately, Malrian found them before they got very far. The sight of the boy's mouth on his pet's neck and his hands up her shirt had sent her master into a rage. Lumen had been severely punished for her imprudence and the handsome farm boy had mysteriously vanished.
Malrian has always been jealous where Lumen is concerned. She wasn't terribly surprised when he killed the farm boy, and she hadn't been all that upset about it anyway. It's not as if they were in love or anything silly like that. Lumen had simply desired a roll in the hay and nothing more. But then Malrian had punished her for weeks on end for succombing to her base urges, and Lumen never really understood why, until now.
She leaves Malrian's office and storms down the hallway, roughly shoving the doors to the veranda open with more force than necessary, and stepping out into the hot, summer evening. "Punish me for your issues, will you? At least you know what it feels like you great big bag of-"
"Apples?! Oh, oh, I know! A bag of candy! I love candy!"
Aelfwynie's cheerful voice pulls Lumen from her ranting, and she stumbles to a stop. "Uh- oh, pardon me, mistresses. I didn't know you were sitting out here and-"
"Oh, stop," Elaninde says. "What's got your smalls in a twist, hmm?"
"My smalls are perfectly aligned, mistress."
Elaninde laughs, and before she can respond Malrian appears in the doorway. "Elaninde, Aelfwynie," he nods to each, then says, "I have work to do this afternoon. I'll see you at seven for dinner." With nothing more to say, he turns on his heel and strides back down the hallway.
Knowing a silent command when she is given one, Lumen bows to the two sisters and scurries after Malrian. She follows him into his office and shuts the door behind them, then sits on the floor beside him when he takes a seat in his favorite reading chair.
"I do not know if I am going to survive this visit with my dignity intact," he sighs.
Lumen leans against his leg, resting her head on his thigh. Malrian reaches down to pull the pin from her hair, letting her auburn locks fall loose across her shoulders. The feeling of his fingers stroking through her hair and his long nails gently scratching against her scalp usually lull her to sleep, but her mind is too busy turning over all that happened today. Her master's obvious distaste of sex is rather interesting, and might be something she can use to her advantage. Though she is reluctant to try his patience right now, otherwise he might have her bred as punishment. Lumen shivers at the very thought, and the hand in her hair stills.
"What's the matter?" he asks.
"I shouldn't trouble you with my worries."
Malrian laughs. "Please, trouble me, pet. We haven't had the chance to talk much lately."
Lumen turns to face him. "I'm afraid your sisters might try to breed me," she says, the words tumbling out now that the floodgates have been opened. "Please don't let them! I don't want to bear children and I certainly don't want to have sex with some old steward!"
Malrian's eyes go wide, and for a brief, terrifying moment Lumen wonders if he is going to punish her. That is until he throws his head back and laughs harder than she's ever seen him do.
"My dear girl," he says, chuckling, "You have nothing to worry about. If you were with child it would be terribly inconvenient for me."
"It would be inconvenient for me as well, master."
"I imagine so," he says, stroking her hair. "Regardless, you have nothing to worry about. My sister is more concerned with breeding me, anyway. She is forcing me to throw a party in Ravienne's honor. She thinks if I meet her I'll change my mind."
"If I may ask... Why do you not like her? Is she not pretty?"
Malrian shrugs. "I've never met her, and I have no desire to meet her. But it seems I have little choice in the matter. Elenwen outranks me in both the Thalmor and within our family, so I must do as she says."
The thought of Malrian being anyone's subordinate is a strange one. Within these walls his word is the law, and his will is always done. His authority is rarely questioned, and it often falls to Lumen to dispose of anyone who dares to. Lumen does enjoy those moments when Malrian orders her to kill. She loves the rush of power, the spilling of blood, and the submissive thrill of pleasing her master.
They sit in silence for a long time, neither of them bothering to speak or move until the steward calls them to dinner.
If Lumen thought the maids had worked themselves into a panic previously, it is nothing compared to the mania that has overtaken them now. Malrian rarely throws parties, but when he does it is a momentous occasion. The maids are determined to clean the house from top to bottom, leaving no picture frame or vase unturned. Lumen does her best to stay out of their way, and she finds her refuge by helping the groundskeeper weed the gardens. He is glad to accept her help, and she is happy just to be away from the chaos of the house.
"I can't tell if you're trying to grow herbs or ground ivy," Lumen teases, throwing a handful of ground ivy into an ever-growing pile of discarded greenery.
Silvan laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I can't tell, either," he says. "Worse yet is the nettle coming in from the north corner. It's determined to choke out the mint, which is the Justiciar's favorite, as you know."
The groundskeeper is a handsome, middle aged Bosmer with dark brown hair and a strong nose. He's always been kind to Lumen. Often going out of his way to speak with her about the various flowers he is planting, or will be planting in the future. Their conversations rarely went any further than that, lest they provoke Malrian and send him into a jealous rage.
"Lumen!" Aelfwynie's voice pulls Lumen from her work, and as much as Lumen does like the Altmer, she would prefer to be left to her mundane task for just a little while longer. "Oh, Lulu! Where are you, dear? Oh! There you are!"
"Lady Aelfwynie." Lumen inclines her head, and remains on her knees in the dirt.
"I hate to disturb your- um, well- whatever it is that you're doing," she says, sounding vaguely disgusted. "But I just wanted to know if you'd be attending the party. Elaninde and I are trying to get a head-count."
Lumen wipes her hands on her trousers. "Master does not often host parties, but when he has he's never allowed me to attend."
"That's ridiculous! Oh, and speaking of ridiculous you should have heard him today! Claiming he was hosting a party 'under duress' and that we should all be ashamed of ourselves for forcing him to embarrass himself by entertaining a 'cow'. He is so melodramatic! He doesn't even know what Ravienne looks like! Anyway- don't worry, Lulu, I'll talk to him. Surely he'll let you attend the party. A young lady should attend at least one party in her lifetime, right?"
"As you wish, my lady," Lumen says, overwhelmed. "I am honored that you thought to invite me."
"You're always so polite. It's so cute!," Aelfwynie chirps. "Oh! Maybe Elaninde and I can help you get dressed for the party! It'll be fun! We can give each other makeovers!" She squeals and claps her hands, then turns on her heel to run back to the house, presumably to plot Lumen's doom with Elaninde.
Lumen heaves a sigh once Aelfwynie is out of earshot. "Fuck me," she groans.
Silvan tosses a clump of ground ivy at her, laughing. "Now that's not very polite at all. Was your father a sailor?"
"Maybe," Lumen says with a grin. "But you can't tell me that you would fancy being the lone Bosmer in a room full of Altmer."
His smile fades. "No," he says. "I don't envy you."
"Oh, well," Lumen sighs, and sets to work on another patch of ground ivy. "There's nothing to be done for it. I have no choice, and I'll get nowhere by sulking about it."
Silvan takes a breath, and she looks up at him, expecting him to say something. But whatever it is that he planned to say, he thinks better of it. Instead, he reaches over and covers her hand with his, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze before pulling away. They work in silence after that. Silvan, upset by his inability to help her, and Lumen, terrified of the way her stomach flutters when he touches her. Just like when the farm boy touched her. Only this time she can't do anything about it. Because if anything happened to Silvan, Lumen would be truly heartbroken.
A/N: This fic was inspired by Heiwako's "Season Unending". At first I only meant for this to be a crack-fic where Malrian's big sisters come to visit him in Cyrodiil and harass him, but it's turning into something more because I keep getting more ideas for it.
I've been wanting to write a more in-depth look into Lumen's past, and I've been dying to flesh out Malrian a bit more. Make him into a person rather than a shadow that haunts Lumen's nightmares. (Don't worry, he's still an evil bastard.)
I never thought I would name a fic after a Bananarama song, but hey, it works! XD