The Romancer Opalbane
Episode Eighteen: A good girl does a baaad thing
Ironically enough, much of Opalbane's resuscitation consisted of dunking her in a moonwell. For much of a week, Priestess Feathershine oversaw the surprisingly delicate procedure. The pale comatose shadowpriestess was bathed in the sparkling aqua water, while her novices chanted sacred hymns, then Opalbane was left to soak in silence for an hour or so. Priestess Feathershine didn't fully trust Benactus' manaburn candles, though there didn't seem to be anything wrong with them. Instead, she used her own tall manaburn candles. The exotic purple wax looked marbleized, and the rich dark blue flames gave off the pleasant scent of lilac. Could one really expect anything less from the Night Elf version of Benactus' treatment?
When Alessandre came by to visit Opalbane, Priestess Feathershine confided in him that Benactus had been on to something when he set out to heal the ex-cultist of her diseased fel mana a month earlier. Alessandre wasn't surprised by this. He'd guessed as much for himself. Priestess Feathershine couldn't make anything of the demonic rune he described. Their little visits were brief, but it was enough for Alessandre to decide that he didn't think ill of the woman. Maybe Opalbane had given him a bad impression of her foster mother, but like all mothers, Feathershine had only been trying to help because she cared so much.
Master Rogue Shadowstep was another matter altogether. Alessandre had never been overly fond of Shadowstep, not the way that Myrielle seemed to adore his methods, anyways. But Alessandre had admired the man, and felt a great deal of respect toward the rogue who'd fiercely held onto power within the Cenarion Enclave for an impressive seventy years. Now, Alessandre hated Master Rogue Shadowstep with a passion. The man was heartless. He didn't care that Opalbane had been on the brink of death; in fact he never even asked Alessandre how she got that way on the ship. Clearly Shadowstep didn't care. He was solely concerned with the thugs and cultist types that kept showing up in Darkshore. Obviously, Opalbane's flight from Stormwind to Darnassus alerted everyone who wanted her as to her whereabouts. No longer swathed under layers of Benactus' secrets, the dark agents swarmed around Darnassus like vultures. Alessandre offered to continue standing guard in front of her room among the Priestess' quarters near the Temple of Elune, but Shadowstep looked at the gorgeous rogue like he had two heads.
"You're an assassin, and I own you until the end of this month. Now, when I tell you to go to Darkshore and kill people for me, you're going to damn well do it!" Shadowstep thundered. Shadowstep was especially annoyed at Alessandre when he came in late to report during the evenings because he'd been visiting with Opalbane. Each day, she was gaining more strength and Alessandre was heartened to see the progress, if only for a few moments. Finally, Shadowstep threatened to make Alessandre stay in Darkshore, instead of traveling back and forth from Darnassus. Alessandre solemnly accepted that if he was going to allow any man on the face of Azeroth to belittle him, it would be the man who held the keys to his future as a rogue… until the month was out.
Opalbane got stronger rapidly. The moonwell in the Temple of Elune was precious to all Kaldorei for a good reason, and it proved its worth a thousand fold. After a time, Priestess Feathershine proudly announced to the young woman that she no longer needed the manaburn candles. Her fel mana was completely gone. Benactus had allowed it to plague her system for too long, until it began to eat away at her health. That disease could be removed completely with regular cleansing spells from her novices. Opalbane was overwhelmed by the constant attention, but in the end it made her feel stronger than she ever did before, and she couldn't really be angry at her foster mother for the excellent care.
The only problem now was seeing the man that she loved. Now that she no longer needed to bathe in the moonwell at the center of the Temple of Elune, a public place, Alessandre couldn't see her as easily. Though she was no prisoner, Opalbane was beginning to feel as confined in Darnassus as she'd been in Stormwind. She wasn't allowed to go anywhere alone. If Sentinels couldn't escort her, Feathershine's many novices were eager to flock about Opalbane wherever she went. The week was almost done, and Shadowstep bragged that he was sending Alessandre back to Stormwind immediately after so that he could round up the key Twilight Cultists and complete the mission on time.
Again, Opalbane felt desperate for love advice. It seemed that without some kind of important catalyst, she and Alessandre would inevitably go their separate ways when his work was done. Or worse, Opalbane had kind of a premonition that she did not take lightly… an overwhelming certainty that Alessandre's life would end if he went back into the lion's den one last time. With his cover blown, and the riot and everything else in Stormwind, it was a hard feeling to just ignore.
Opalbane would have preferred to write her best friend Willypearl, but the response would come back from across the Great Sea by the time Alessandre was already in Stormwind. Living in Ashenvale, Wisthera was closest.
In response to Opalbane's desperate letter, Wisthera wrote:
Opalbane,
Onyx says hello, and that we're coming to see you as soon as we can. Now, as for the answer to your question:
This calls for drastic action. I'm alarmed to hear that Alessandre hasn't at least slept with you yet… that is a very surprising change in behavior for him, which could be very good, if it means he cares about you, or very bad if it means he's overly focused on his career… or broken. Alright, so it's just my jealousy flaring up again; that man could never break equipment that nice. My point is, telling Alessandre that you just have a 'bad feeling' about his going back to Stormwind won't be enough. You need to make sure he really believes the world is coming to an end if he leaves. Make him think that he will lose you forever if he doesn't make a stand. I know that it sounds impossible for any rogue to stand up against Shadowstep and win, but take me for example: I defied him. I lost my entire career as a rogue, and Alessandre was given my old assignment to investigate the cultists, but… I made it out okay, didn't I? And now, I am living with the man that I love. Sure the house is tiny and the location is terrible with the Horde wandering about these days… but I've got the love of my life, right?
And you can too, but you're going to have to throw convention and propriety right out the window. You're going to have to lie, cheat, and steal. The ends will have to justify the means… only trust me in this, not Willypearl, not Feathershine, nobody else. Why, do you ask? Because I am the master when it comes to out thinking people. Don't laugh, you only found out just how devious I was a month ago, and that's after I swindled you and your best friend out of a lot of gold over the last ten years.
Alright, ready?
This is how it's going to go down. I want you, Opalbane, to pretend like you're hurt. Maybe you could even cut yourself, shed a little blood to make it authentic. Now, don't overdo it. Just give the huge disaster a tiny bit of truth as a foundation so that when Alessandre comes running and finds out that you overreacted, he can't really hate you for it. Next, I want you to come on to him. And I mean, really come on to him. If you're having trouble imagining what to do, just close your eyes and conjure up every dirty little thing you've ever wanted to do to Al… don't dare pretend that you don't have those kinds of thoughts, because we all do, priestess…and then do it for real. Everything except for sex of course. This is where I hope you are at least as perverted as your brother to imagine things other than your typical missionary style, end-all be-all carnal act. Think hard, Opalbane.
Okay, now is the really hard part. Whether Alessandre falls for you or resists you, you absolutely have to do this. There are no exceptions whatsoever. You have to demand that you won't go to the next part of the relationship—and yes, pretend that you guys really are in a relationship whether that's true or not—until you have a decent Wreathe Day. No Wreathe Day, no sex, got it? He'll be suspicious that you've suddenly developed these lofty morals, but if you insist like the Legion, he'll give in. You can't defy Shadowstep for him, but you can use sex as leverage. In the end, Alessandre won't see it as incurring the wrath of a certain roguish demigod in the Cenarion Enclave, he'll see it as saying yes to a great night with you. The fact that he's not gotten very far with you yet will even be your strength in this situation. Once he's given you his wreathe, he'll be forced to make a commitment to you that you can fully enjoy, for at least a year according to the custom, mission or no mission. That's what your brother Onyxbane and I are doing right now, and trust me, I already feel so much closer to him after making that little commitment. But you have to push Alessandre into it, or rather, guilt him into it…whichever works best.
If all else fails, insult his manhood. That always works for some reason…
I'd tell you to let me know how it goes, but hopefully Onyx and I will be in Darnassus visiting you by then.
Take care, and be strong sister!
Wishthera, Ashenvale Forest.
Opalbane read the letter over and over again, wondering if she would even dare be so cruel to Alessandre. In the end, she concluded that she didn't have the heart to pressure him if he didn't truly want her. Opalbane could live with rejection, but she couldn't live a lie. However, she didn't see anything wrong with taking a little inspiration from Wisthera's letter. It was what she'd done to get Alessandre to go out on a date with her in Stormwind. She would trick him into coming to her, and then they would talk… just talk. Opalbane was a little disappointed that her plan didn't seem as fun as Wisthera's.
The next day at Opalbane's room in Darnassus…
"Opalbane! I heard that you were attacked! Did a Furblog really steal into Darnassus, to the Temple of Elune, up the stairs, down the hall, knock on your door and then try to maul your arm? I can't believe that I let Shadowstep keep me away from you…" Alessandre trailed off when he saw the tiny bandage wrapped around Opalbane's wrist.
"I'm not sure why you think that, Alessandre. The messenger clearly blew my summons out of proportion." She smiled at him, then began to pour him some tea. It was lunchtime and Opalbane had a nice meal prepared for them. She motioned for Alessandre to sit. "I didn't say Furblog, I said bullfrog. And he didn't maul me. He hopped into my path as I strolled along the pond and I fell. How silly! Cucumber sandwich?"
Alessandre wasn't an idiot. His expression darkened when he realized what had happened. But then he smiled and closed the door behind him.
"You know, I almost got stabbed in the back sprinting for the boat to Ruth'eran Village." He took a seat and began eating.
"Is it really that bad over there?"
Alessandre nodded and began to explain how the quiet, though slightly smelly, fishing town had turned into a warzone of late. A lot of the young Night Elf warriors had been sent deep into Ashenvale so that they could quest safely. But they were really too weak for the Horde and… err… supersized animal out there. The road between Darkshore and Astranaar was littered with the corpses of the fallen as well as the usual corpses of the stupid people one always saw in the starting areas.
Keeping the Twilight Cultists and Faltheriel's thugs out of the town was too difficult, so the Sentinels were ordered to just let them in. Then, once inside, rogues like Alessandre were supposed sneak around, and get rid of the villains who got too comfortable waiting for the heavily guarded boats to Darnassus. Shadowstep wanted Alessandre on this assignment because he had been working in Stormwind for a while and should know the more dangerous faces. Opalbane cringed when Alessandre admitted between mouthfuls that though he hated Shadowstep, the Master Rogue was actually right about his abilities, as usual. Alessandre's loyalty to the man, even after everything Shadowstep put him through would make for a real challenge.
Opalbane tried to broach the topic of their relationship but Alessandre wouldn't hear of breaking his contract with Shadowstep. Alessandre was clearly too frightened of Shadowstep to go against him, though he used words like determination and work ethic to disguise it.
"But I have this horrible feeling… if you go back to Stormwind now, you'll be killed."
"I could get killed in Darkshore. I could get killed in Darnassus… I could get killed choking on this sandwich." Alessandre shrugged, and finished the final bite. "It's a part of what I do, Opalbane."
He leaned over and kissed her cheek, then turned to leave. "By the way, I am relieved to see that you are doing well. I was so worried about you, but now that everything's okay… I guess I'll just finish my assignment, and that's it for us." Then, he turned back, thinking better of his statement. Hope shimmered in Opalbane's heart. "Oh, yea, and about the sex… I don't want a repeat of what happened on the ship over here, so we'd better wait. I'll get back to you when I'm free and we'll go back to my place. But I can't promise you that I'll be there in the morning, since with the mission over… the magic will be gone and all that. You know what I mean… rogue business." He mumbled the last part into noncommittal vaguery.
That was when Opalbane snapped.
"Don't you dare!" she shouted at him, and leaned against the door.
"Opal, I really should get back. If you want, I can try to sneak up here later this evening and we can fool around or something, but—"
"There is no later! I want you now!" she seized the sides of Alessandre's face and began to kiss him. He indulged for a moment, then fiercely separated from her.
Opalbane was determined though. Wisthera's words came back to her in a flash, and she let all the forbidden acts that had flooded her mind during the long hours alone in Benactus' cell consume her. Her dark shadowform flared up, then she put two fingers to her temples.
Alessandre stopped his exit immediately. A blank expression on his face, he closed the door again, and locked it. Just outside, two concerned Sentinels flashed watchful looks before the door sealed shut. Next, Opalbane walked Alessandre to the bed and made him lie down. She ripped up the sheets and tied his arms and legs to the bedposts, then released the Mind Control spell.
"Opal! Untie me right now!" Alessandre was alarmed.
"Listen to yourself." Opalbane began to undress and then crawled ontop of him. Her voice was silken but commanding. "Are you really going to fight me? I know that you want me."
Alessandre lurched, trying to break free, then reality sunk in. "Yeah, you're right. Why the hell would I struggle?" he began to smile.
Opalbane lay flat ontop of him and kissed him for a long time. Then, she began to lick his long ears.
"You don't know… what that does to me," he warned, breathy.
"You would be wrong about that, Al." she purred and kept going. After a few moments, he lashed out suddenly, trying to get his hands on her, but the heavy bedframe responded in kind. Alessandre was stuck.
Wisthera was right. This was no time for convention, for decency. Opalbane let her primal self take over. "Al sweetheart… you and I? We have a little problem."
"You're starting to sound like a rogue—" he protested.
"Shut your beautiful mouth." She admonished him for interrupting her, then kissed his lips. "We need to get to the next part of our relationship. I need for you to finally prove to me that you take me seriously, and that this isn't some kind of game."
"Wait, Opal, we aren't in a rela—"
"It was a lovely first date we had, wasn't it? And then, there was that time you took me for a ride on your epic mount… and the cruise… all great dates." Her twisting of terrifying events into the pleasant memories of a normal couple surprised Alessandre. The more he thought that she was having delusions, the more truth he saw in what she was saying. Maybe he had just been doing his job but… all that saving her had been exciting, if not a little romantic.
"Now, I'm going to be blunt. All these sweet words, the pet name, the gentle looks, even the dirty looks, are all very nice. But I'm done playing games with you. I need you to finish what you started. Let's consummate the relationship."
Alessandre flexed his hands open in the strong ties as he thought about it. It didn't take very long.
"Okay… this is not how I wanted to do this, but you do have a good point. And, I think I have a half hour before I'll even be missed—"
"Oh, no, no, no." Opalbane clucked her tongue. She sat up and straddled him. Alessandre thought the image of the sultry—and naked—Night Elf shadowpriestess smoking with dark powers of the netherworld was incredibly hot. He knew that he should be terrified, but his heart raced with excitement. He half wanted her to try and kill him with her powers right now. It would be the best kind of death…
Alessandre came out of his fantasies just in time to hear the words Wreathe Day. Opalbane waited patiently for Alessandre's response. He hadn't even heard the question.
"What? I can't do that. If I give you my Wreathe, and then sleep with you to make it official, then I'm bound under Darnassian law to live with you for at least a year. Besides, I have to complete this mission for Shadowstep or else Darnassus will be flooded with people who want to kidnap you or worse."
"You can go against Shadowstep! Please!" Opalbane sounded desperate. She lost her sexy edge.
"Opalbane, it would be irresponsible. In fact… I don't see how I can protect you with all of this going on. There are just too many of them." He confided in Opalbane, and she gave up on seducing him. She lay beside him and hugged him instead.
"We can't ever be together if we don't get rid of the cultists." She concluded mournfully. "There would be no point in trying to live that kind of life."
Alessandre mumbled something about how it would really only take one night, not a lifetime, but when Opalbane asked what he said, he just cleared his throat.
"I didn't say it was impossible, Opal." Alessandre reflexively jerked his arm around to rub her back, but the ties around his wrist held firmly around the bedpost. "But maybe killing all of them isn't the way to do it. I'll have to drive them away somehow."
Opalbane nestled in closer to Alessandre as he thought. Then, he asked, "What are the requirements for being a Twilight Cultist? I mean, is there a way to make you ineligible?"
Opalbane shrugged, "Any race or class is eligible, they won't take just any old fool who struts up to the camps in Silithus. You have to be exceptionally talented, and also weak in a certain way… people with a strong desire to belong because they don't already fit into society make better converts because they are least likely to run away. The more heartfelt a person's commitment ceremony, the harder it is to extract them."
"That is why Priestess Feathershine, Onyxbane and the others were able to rescue you, because you were drunk when they initiated you?"
"Yes. If not for that lone fact, I would still be in Silithus now. I was—and am—more than enough of a social pariah for them."
"Well, I can't keep you drunk for the rest of your life." Alessandre frowned. "And you could act like you have more confidence… but that's just too vague, and we can't risk that they won't believe it."
Alessandre tried to recall anything of value from the many conversations he'd eavesdropped on in the last week. Opalbane's darkly glowing naked body pressed so close up against him was an incredibly effective distraction.
"Three things…" he finally sputtered. "Faltheriel said that there are three stipulations to being a High Priestess for Zar'teus… your heritage, your mental state, and your… err… being a virgin. For the first one, I wouldn't dream of hurting you in any way to mar your birthmarks."
Opalbane blinked through the black feral markings over her eyes. The delicate shades covered most of her face.
"We've already decided that the second option is out, but the third…"
Opalbane smiled.
"We'll fake a Wreathe Day!" Alessandre beamed with his idea. "I'll buy flowers, chocolates… we'll set the whole city on fire with our flamboyant date. There are enemy spies enough here to witness the whole thing."
Opalbane began to frown.
"Everyone knows that a Wreathe Day is a celebration that a Kaldorei couple usually sets up because they want to have sex for the first time."
"And because they want to get married eventually, choose to be exclusive, and they also make a promise to live together for a year afterwards." Opalbane piped in. Alessandre didn't seem to hear her.
"I've done it before." He went on, "We'll just make a huge deal out of it, and then when the sun goes down, I'll take you up to one of those tree-top apartments, the kind that only have two walls so that everyone can see. We'll make noises, and the whole nine yards! Everyone will be convinced that you're no longer a virgin, and you'll be useless to them." He smiled.
Opalbane sat up. "Why would we pretend?"
"Because… we aren't going to have a real Wreathe Day, Opalbane. No way am I going through that again. You know what happened to the last woman I gave my Wreathe to."
Opalbane looked sad. "No, I didn't realize that she was your first." Alessandre's first love, the priestess who tried to mutilate him after becoming a cultist in Silithus, would always be special to him. Even if she had hurt him, Alessandre still treasured that singular pain, along with whatever good memories survived after all these years. Opalbane really felt guilty about putting pressure on Alessandre now. He'd taken Wisthera's idea and run with it… leaving the nasty reality of their relationship in its wake. It was mortifying to learn that the man she'd been pursuing desperately this entire time only saw her as a fling. Opalbane silently cursed Wisthera and her bad advice.
"Shadowstep won't like it, but I'm sure it will work. When I'm done with you here, I can finally go to Stormwind and get that damned Faltheriel, and that will take care of the thugs. So, can you untie me now? I have a lot of work to do."
Opalbane made fists. She was tired of being the one picked over, the victim. The frustrated shadowpriestess decided that she was not going to go down without a fight.
"Absolutely not. You'll leave here when I say you can." She forced herself not to say, And we're going to have a real Wreathe Day, no matter whom you think you love, but Opalbane finally felt comfortable lying to Alessandre and held it in. Since giving into Wisthera's con to wear the Archmage's stolen ring ten years go, Opalbane decided that it was necessary to be devious once again. If that was what she had to do be happy, to survive, then Opalbane was not going to take any prisoners. Since Alessandre was so much of a lecher, she would definitely get to sleep with him, no matter what. But Opalbane had decided on the first night they spent together in Stormwind that she wanted more than that from Alessandre. She wanted him to be her lover, honest and true. She was sure that he had feelings for her, and she didn't know why sometimes he acted like he cared, and sometimes he pretended he didn't, but she was going to force him to end this silly game of his.
"You're acting strangely again, like you did on the boat, Moonlily. I think maybe I'm making you worse…"
Opalbane cut him off. "Silence! You are mine now, so be obedient." And she began to undress Alessandre. "True torture is never being able to have what you want, no matter how you beg for it in your life. You are about to learn what I've been going through since the day my parents were murdered by demons in Felwood."
"Opalbane, that's not fair—"
"No it isn't, but I am going to make it so. Maybe you can cling to your insecurities and deny me love, but I am going to take my revenge by denying you pleasure. And you are really in trouble because through all our little close encounters back in Stormwind, I learned exactly what you like." When he was completely naked, Opalbane went and tightened all the binds on Alessandre's arms and legs then stood before the bed.
Alessandre briefly considered shifting into one of his feral forms to escape the binds, but he was sure that Opalbane would make certain connections between him and the murders in Stormwind. He couldn't bare for her to find out that he was really a druid, ever.
"I seem to remember that a certain scar of yours is incredibly sensitive." Opalbane fluttered her eyelashes. "I'll start there and work my way up." Her shadowform flared at the thought, and she bent to place ticklish breathy kisses on his feet.
Slowly and surely, Opalbane made it to where the scar ended, near the most sensitive area on Alessandre's body.
Outside the door, the Sentinels raised their long eyebrows at the noise.
"Did you hear that? Should we intervene?" One woman asked the other.
"Are you kidding me? That's Priestess Feathershine's daughter. That poor Opalbane has had a terrible life. I say that if this is the way she gets her kicks, we let her." It was a very compassionate response that could only come from soldiers who had been trained from stalwart priestesses.
"Hmm… I guess it wouldn't be so horrible to just listen to that handsome male elf… with our vow of celibacy, it's as close as we're ever gonna' get anyways." the other Sentinel smiled wickedly.
From even outside the door, one could hear Alessandre begging for Opalbane to finish what she started, but the vengeful woman only laughed cruelly.
"Help me!" Alessandre cried. Then when no one answered, "…are you enjoying hearing me suffer like this? Damn this matriarchy we live in!"