Not for the first time, Tyrande finds herself running hands glowing with radiant moonlight across Rognak’s torso, her face screwed up in concentration as she makes sure that every last bit of the damage, both inside and out, has been healed. In this she has Elune’s full support. Through her connection with the Goddess of the Moon, the Night Elven High Priestess can make sure that there is no lingering demonic corruption from the blows Rognak took, nor from his proximity to flames of fel magic. He’s clean.
He's also completely healed, of course. But it’s hard to accept that when the orc druid is still unconscious days after the Battle for Mount Hyjal. They’d won that battle, even though they’d lost so much, and Rognak had been instrumental in carrying the day. Was it any wonder that Tyrande found herself here, by his side?
A hand of branches falls upon her shoulder, causing the High Priestess to let out a slow breath. She’d felt Cenarius’ approach from a good distance away of course, so she’s not startled. Even still, her eyes do not leave Rognak’s sleeping visage.
“High Priestess. Your vigil, while appreciated, is unnecessary. The young druid is doing quite well thanks to our efforts. He merely needs time to rest now that we’ve healed what physically ailed him.”
Tyrande frowns at that, not liking it, truth be told.
“Then why does he not wake? Even Staghelm has woken up at this point.”
By all rights, Tyrande should be assigning just as much credit to the Archdruid as she is to Rognak. Indeed, they’d all played their parts in defeating Archimonde and the Burning Legion and they’d played them well. And Fandral, much like Tyrande and the rest of their people, had sacrificed more than Rognak and their allies had. Nordrassil was gone, destroyed in the same explosion that destroyed Archimonde. Their immortality was lost. After over ten thousand years, they would age and die like mortal beings once more.
Of course, there were already murmurings of a new World Tree. A chance to regain their immortality. Tyrande wasn’t sure how she felt about that… but a part of her didn’t like it. It felt… premature.
“The Chieftain’s bond to Nature is strong. He counts many among the Wild Gods as his patrons, including myself.”
Tyrande’s eyes snap open at that confession, her gaze finally leaving Rognak to look to Cenarius. The Lord of the Forest is speaking rather candidly at the moment.
“… During the battle, he reached for all that he could. And we did not deny him. He wanted our power for his own use, but we, his patrons, deemed his cause in this instance to be Just and Righteous. And so… we gave him what he was asking for.”
A small smile curls across Cenarius’ face and the Demigod chuckles softly.
“I’m not entirely sure he even knew what he was doing. He only knew that he wasn’t strong enough, that he needed more. Unfortunately… his mortal form was not made for so much power. If he’d held onto it for much longer, he would have suffered severe consequences.”
Cenarius’ voice is grave, sending a shiver down Tyrande’s spine as she looks back to the young orc laid out before them. She doesn’t like the sound of that, but thankfully it was only a matter of ‘if’. The worst had not come to pass.
“As it is, he requires more time than most to recover as a result. Still, I think he will awaken soon. A day more, at most.”
Tyrande slowly nods, accepting this as she stares at Rognak some more. Her daughter’s lover and the bridge between her people and the Horde. Without him, Tyrande has a feeling that everything would have turned out far worse. Her insight tells her that Rognak was a blessing for her people, that his mere existence has served to put them on the path to a better future.
And yet… Tyrande’s eyes drift over to Rognak’s weapon, the axe Wolfsong. Retrieved from the battle, it had suffered some damage that Cenarius had already restored. Marshalling herself, Tyrande lets out an explosive breath and finally asks the question at the forefront of her mind.
“Is he to be my beloved’s replacement then?”
The Lord of the Forest startles at her side, causing Tyrande to look at him knowingly.
“Will he be your new protégé, Lord Cenarius? Your next student?”
Cenarius does not meet her gaze, which is answer enough. But Tyrande still waits him out, until at long last he speaks.
“… The young one represents a great opportunity, Tyrande. The future of our world will be a brighter place with him in it.”
The corner of Tyrande’s mouth quirks up as Cenarius unknowingly mirrors her previous thoughts with his words. But the Forest Demigod isn’t done yet.
“However… know that Malfurion’s fate weighs heavily on me. I cannot claim parity with your loss… but if given the choice, I do not know if I would trade young Rognak for a change in Malfurion’s fate.”
Tyrande blinks at that. It is a… heavy confession. And a terrible thought. If she had the choice, between Rognak’s life and Malfurion’s… what would she choose? She hates that Cenarius even put the thought in her head. It helps though, that she knows what Malfurion would say were he here. He would decry such a choice. He would never want them to sacrifice anyone for him, let alone a promising young druid on the cusp of greatness.
And yet, those are the words that Cenarius leaves Tyrande with. He does not speak again, merely standing beside her quietly for a few moments more before silently taking his leave of her. Tyrande remains by Rognak’s side, and after a moment she returns to her healing vigil, never touching the slumbering orc but running glowing hands over his body all the same.
Immediately after the battle, she and Cenarius had indeed worked together to heal Rognak’s numerous injuries. They were many and varied, with broken ribs and internal bleeding being some of the worst of it. He had very nearly been on the verge of death, but in the end his orcish constitution combined with their quick work had resulted in him pulling through.
It was… the least Tyrande felt she could do. Rognak and his kind had risked everything to give them the time they needed. And in the end, they’d succeeded. All of the races of Kalimdor and some from far away had come together in the Battle for Mount Hyjal. Night Elves had fought alongside Tauren and Trolls for the first time in millennia, to say nothing of the foreign humans or the even more foreign orcs who had come to their shores.
In spite of their differences, they had done it. Against all odds, they had proven victorious. Heh, Archimonde hadn’t known what hit him. The Defiler had been so confident in the end there. Even charred and bleeding from Thrall and Rognak’s respective attacks, the Demon Lord had believed his conquest unopposed. Indeed, the tenacity and ferocity of their young orc allies had probably been what convinced him that there was no trap, in the end.
And ultimately… he’d walked right into it. And died. A vicious sense of satisfaction fills Tyrande even now as she thinks about it. The end of Archimonde. The destruction of the Defiler. However, that satisfaction is overshadowed a moment later by thoughts of the future.
Rognak and his fellow orc druids are… so young. So very mortal. But then, with the death of Nordrassil, she and her people are mortal now too. Perhaps it’s better that way. Perhaps with time, the Night Elves and the Orcish Horde can become closer than ever before.
Tyrande isn’t unobservant, after all. She’s well aware that there are relationships cropping up between the two races outside of what Shandris and the young Warsong Chieftain have going on. Some of her Sentinels have taken to Rognak’s neophyte druids quite eagerly. Indeed, a handful of her Priestesses had come to her already, to ask what they should do about it.
Nothing, she’d told them. She would not condemn such couplings. She would not drive away their young allies and turn victory into ash in their mouths. The Night Elves had lost much when her beloved mate and many of their druids had died to the Scourge. If they were going to ever recover, they needed to forge stronger ties with their new neighbors, not push them away.
It would not be easy. There would be missteps. There would be stumbles. There would be challenges. But Tyrande fully believed they would be able to overcome them all… together.
“Oh! High Priestess, I didn’t expect to find you here…”
Blinking, pulled from her thoughts, Tyrande yanks her glowing hands back from Rognak’s chest as though burned. She’s not sure why she’s embarrassed to have been caught healing the perfectly healthy orc druid by her adoptive daughter, but as Shandris pushes into the tent, Tyrande finds herself a little flushed, coughing delicately.
“Shandris. I was merely looking after our… ally while he rested. I know his own people watch over him, but I wanted to make sure none of the Fel could take root.”
Her excuse sounds weak, even to her own ears. Why is that? Tyrande shifts from side to side, even as Shandris nods and comes to kneel beside her, gaze locked on Rognak’s sleeping face.
“… Thank you, Mother. For helping him.”
Tyrande smiles softly, and when Shandris reaches out and takes hold of her hand, she intertwines her fingers with the other Night Elf’s, giving Shandris a solid squeeze.
“It is my pleasure, Daughter. He has done much for our people. To toss him aside now would be the height of dishonor. To say nothing of what he means to you.”
And like that, with one single sentence spoken in a teasing tone, Tyrande is treated to the sight of Shandris blushing and sputtering a little bit. However, she does not deny it. She does not try to claim that she and the Warsong Chieftain are merely… friends. As Shandris falls quiet, Tyrande sighs and looks down at the other Night Elf’s hand in her own.
“… When you first spoke of him, I could hear in your voice that your… engagement was more than just the physical affair you might have claimed it to be, Shandris. I wonder, have you come to understand what feelings you might have for Rognak any better after all of this?”
Blush intensifying, Shandris does not immediately answer. But eventually, she straightens her back, squares her shoulders… and nods.
“I have, Mother.”
Feeling rather at home in playing the teasing mother, Tyrande’s eyes twinkle as she fiddles with their joined hands.
“And?”
Gazing towards Rognak’s slumbering form once more, Shandris sighs.
“… You’re right. I do feel more for him than I initially anticipated. I have become… attached. At first, I’d thought us too far apart for there to be anything but… sex between us. He is only mortal, after all. But now…”
Tyrande smiles, nodding along with her adoptive daughter. She’s pleased that Shandris has come to the same conclusion that she did. The destruction of Nordrassil, while a terrible loss to their people, might just be a blessing in disguise.
“So are we now, Shandris. Many of our people are over ten thousand years old. But no longer. No longer can we expect immortality. No longer can we let the years pass us by without reaching out and seizing what happiness we can wherever we can find it. I tell you this now, not as your High Priestess, nor even necessarily as your Mother… but as one woman to another, you must take hold of this opportunity and never let it go. Hold tight and keep him close, no matter what.”
If a tinge of bitter sorrow enters Tyrande’s voice by the end of her speech, Shandris at least has the good grace not to mention it. Instead, the younger Night Elf lets out a low, shuddering breath as she continues to stare at Rognak for a moment more. Then, at long last she nods and turns her gaze to Tyrande.
“I will. I promise.”
Smiling now, Tyrande pulls Shandris in for a warm embrace. The two of them hug tightly, basking in one another’s presence and the physical contact of a loved one for a good, long while. And then, Shandris pulls away, ending the embrace. Tyrande looks at her as the Sentinel Captain bites her lower lip, hesitating for only a moment before speaking.
“And what of you, Priestess? What of your happiness?”
Tyrande freezes at the question. She would think Shandris would know better than to ask such a thing. In a very short amount of time, Tyrande has lost quite a lot. Forcing a smile onto her face, the Priestess of Elune places a hand on Shandris’ shoulder.
“I will be fine, Shandris. You do not have to worry about me. Your happiness… your happiness will be my happiness. Seeing you find love after all this time; it fills me with joy enough as it is. I do not need anything more than what I already have. My duty to our people… and my love for you. That will be enough for me.”
Shandris frowns at that, looking displeased with Tyrande’s answer. But truth be told, she doesn’t know what else to say to the younger Night Elf. Malfurion is gone. Perhaps not dead just yet, not completely… but he is lost to her. And Tyrande will just have to live with that. Luckily, she will not have to live with it for eternity or she thinks she might just have gone mad from the endlessness of it all. But one mortal life lived in pursuit of a future for her people, even after she’s gone? That Tyrande can do. That is a purpose she can get behind.
But apparently, that’s not enough for Shandris. Her gaze flickers over to the slumbering orc druid in their midst again, and after a moment Shandris speaks.
“My happiness could be more than just your happiness in spirit, mother.”
What? What is Shandris saying?
Shifting from side to side, looking ten-thousand years younger and like she’d just done something incredibly naughty, Shandris nevertheless holds her head high and finds the courage to meet Tyrande’s eyes.
“I have already accepted that I will be sharing my mate with the human mage, Jaina Proudmoore.”
Tyrande blinks, causing Shandris to give her a crooked smile.
“In fact, I’m the one who brought them together. He’s a bit much for me to handle on my own, you see. Orc men are… very beastly, High Priestess.”
It slowly begins to dawn on Tyrande, what exactly Shandris is implying. But then Shandris goes beyond simply implying.
“What I’m saying is-!”
Before she can finish that sentence, Tyrande abruptly pulls away, standing up and cutting Shandris off.
“A-Apologies… I must… I have sat in vigil for much too long. I need to find food, and perhaps a bath. And I am sure my responsibilities to our people are already piling up. I leave the vigil in your capable hands, Sentinel Captain.”
Shandris’ eyes widen, and she opens her mouth to speak, but Tyrande is already fleeing the tent, something in her chest twisting into knots at Shandris’ insinuation.
Surely… surely she just misunderstood. Best to put it out of her mind. Best not to think about it… ever again.
-x-X-x-
Shandris’ face falls as Tyrande retreats from the encounter. She’d tried to be as subtle as possible, tried to coach it in terms that she felt might bring the Priestess of Elune around to the idea. It wasn’t as though she wanted Rognak to replace Malfurion in Tyrande’s heart or anything like that. She’d merely wanted her mother to have an opportunity to be happy again.
Alas, she’d come on too strong and chased Tyrande away. She couldn’t even go after her either. Not just because she was sure that the other Night Elf wouldn’t appreciate her company at this point, but also because Rognak was not supposed to be left alone while he convalesced. Lord Cenarius’ orders, to be exact. So… Shandris was stuck. She was-
“Heh.”
Blinking, Shandris’ eyes snap over to her sleeping lover, even as the silence is broken by a quiet huff of laughter from the supposedly unconscious orc. But just because his eyes are closed doesn’t mean he’s actually asleep still… and the curve of his large mouth certainly looks something like a smile.
Squawking indignantly, Shandris reaches over and smacks Rognak on the chest, to little effect save for that he finally creaks open an eye.
“How… how long have you been awake, you big lug?!”
A rumble makes its way up from his chest, through his throat, and out his lips before he answers her.
“… Long enough to listen to you striking out with your own mother, Shandris.”
Sputtering, Shandris feels the heat rising in her face as she colors in embarrassment. Growling, she strikes him again on the chest, once more to little effect as she scowls at him.
“She’s not… we’re not truly mother and daughter! Yes, she might have taken me in… but it’s been ten thousand years! We’re… we’re more like sisters at this point. I haven’t been a child for millennia!”
Rognak just snorts and Shandris has to admit that even to her own ears, her excuses sound weak. And yet, it’s not enough to break her of her convictions. She’s still convinced that her mother deserves happiness, and that requires her to eventually move on from the mate she lost… err, is losing. Okay, so maybe trying to convince Tyrande to bed her orc lover when Malfurion wasn’t fully gone just yet was where Shandris had truly erred.
Letting out a sigh, Shandris throws herself on top of Rognak, all but using him as a bed. He grunts at her weight, even as large green hands come up to grab hold of her.
“Hey… sheesh, no care or concern for the wounded, is there?”
Lifting her head from his chest, Shandris scoffs at that.
“I know you’re not wounded anymore. Lord Cenarius and Tyrande made sure of that. You should be fit as a fiddle, after all of the healing that the High Priestess provided you with.”
Then, Shandris is hit by a bout of insecurity and blushes, starting to pull away.
“… Though I imagine you might still be exhausted and feeling weak. I apologize, I-mmph!”
But Rognak isn’t having it. Before she can pull away, his hands grip down harder on where he’s holding her, and suddenly he’s leaning up to kiss her on the lips. Shandris all but melts into the kiss, her lips going straight for that corner of his big, strong orcish mouth that she loves so much. For a while, there’s nothing but the feel of his warmth against hers and their bodies pressed up along one another. But eventually, he pulls back, his eyes dancing with mirth.
“You’re right. I’m feeling pretty damn good. Great, even. Like a million bucks.”
Shandris wrinkles her nose at that.
“What do male deer have to do with anything?”
For a moment, Rognak looks taken aback… then he grins, laughing as he holds her closer.
“Well… if nothing else, they’re virile creatures, aren’t they? Just as virile as I am.”
She feels his bulge beginning to grow against her ass then, the effect of the prolonged contact between their two bodies finally starting to have an effect. Straddling him, Shandris bites her lower lip and pushes off his chest, reaching up to begin divesting herself of her Sentinel Garb.
Rognak watches her do so, his throbbing erection pressing against her buttocks the entire time, until at long last she’s naked and can remove his loincloth, exposing the rest of his body as well. As his throbbing orcish member slides up and down between her cheeks, Shandris shivers, slowly bouncing, riding him while also not TRULY riding him just yet…
He doesn’t question why she’s taking her time to get started. Instead, he seems to be feeling the same awkward tension in the air that she is. Tilting his head to the side, the young orc looks at her, truly looks at her, making Shandris freeze up as she waits in anticipation and dread alike for the question she knows he’s going to ask.
“Shandris… what are we to each other?”
Heart thudding in her naked chest, the Sentinel Captain wiggles for a moment, luxuriating in the feel of his body and genitals. And then… she finally tells the truth. Both to him and herself.
“We are… whatever you will let us be, Rognak. I won’t deny it. I think I want to be more than just… physical with you. Before, I thought that there was no way to bridge the gap between the two of us. You are… so young, and I have been alive for over ten thousand years. But even setting that aside, I was immortal and you were not.”
Rognak nods, not a trace of judgment in his eyes as he listens to her. Shandris bites her lower lip, taking a moment to get her thoughts in order before continuing on.
“But then… then I fought alongside you. I lived alongside you. I realized quite quickly that bridging the gap wasn’t the impossible task I thought it was. You might be young… but you live an entire lifetime in every moment you have on Azeroth. You never stop moving. It’s like you’re chasing something, and in doing so… I could tell you would rapidly catch up to me, just as a byproduct of that chase.”
Smiling softly, Shandris reaches up and runs a hand down the side of Rognak’s face.
“And now… the issue of immortality has solved itself as well. I and my people are no longer immortal, and I do not believe we will regain eternal life, even with what that blowhard Staghelm has been spouting. I will live out the rest of a mortal life… a blessing in disguise, because it means I can perhaps do it… by your side.”
Blushing again, Shandris pulls her hand back, suddenly self-conscious.
“If… if you’ll have me, that is.”
For a long moment, almost too long, Rognak is quiet. His hands are still on her body. His cock is still nestled between her ass cheeks. But nevertheless, he pauses. When he finally does speak, he seems… conflicted.
“I would like nothing more than that, Shandris. But… there is someone else to be considered. The way Jaina spoke during our… shared time with her, I think she might want the same thing. And now I don’t know what to do. You had me first, but you spurned my heart. Jaina had me second, but she made her desires clear from the moment she got the chance.”
… Oh. Was that all? Shandris feels relief filling every pore of her being. For a moment, she thought he was about to say that the age difference was too much of a bridge for HIM to be able to cross. But if all he was worried about was hurting the human mage’s feelings…
Letting out an airy little laugh, Shandris cups Rognak’s face in her hands and grins as she lifts her hips up and finally, at long last, sinks herself down his cock. Not that it’s actually as easy as she makes it sound. He’s big… bigger than big, just as he’s always been. But she’s gotten better at taking him over time, and she’s prepared for this. Her sopping wet cunt stretches nice and wide as she sinks down the orc druid’s member.
He, of course, is taken by surprise. Here they were talking about matters of love and she’d just gone ahead and impaled herself upon his massive green dick. A loud, involuntary groan leaves Rognak’s lips, even as he tilts his head back in audible and visible enjoyment. But at the same time, he growls at her, clearly annoyed alongside being pleasured.
“Shandris…”
His tone has a note of warning to it, and though Shandris giggles, she also doesn’t leave him hanging for too long.
“Let her join into whatever we want to develop between us, Rognak. I don’t mind.”
That catches the orc off guard. His eyes flick to hers and he blinks incredulously for a moment.
“… What?”
Pulling her hands back from his face, sliding them down his broad chest, Shandris pushes herself up into a proper seated position upon his dick. He’s so deep inside of her, and yet when she glances down, only half of his length is actually in her cunt at this point. Meanwhile, her belly is already starting to bulge a little bit in some places.
Admiring the view, running her fingers across her taut, chiseled, stretched abdomen, Shandris eventually looks back to Rognak and grins.
“Why are you so surprised? I’m the one who facilitated your encounter in the first place. And sure, maybe I was still in denial then… but my feelings have not changed. Or rather, more accurately, my feelings towards that cute little human morsel have only improved. She fought quite well during the Battle for Mount Hyjal, didn’t she? And not only that… she saved your life. That wasn’t part of the plan.”
Shandris’ smile slips for a moment, and she wiggles herself up Rognak’s length before slamming herself back down forcefully. She growls, expressing just a bit of her heartbreak and anger as she begins to ride him as best as she can.
“I thought I lost you; you know. My mother had given my fellow Sentinels orders to drag me from the battlefield kicking and screaming if need be when she finally gave the order to retreat. It wasn’t until we reached the evacuation point that I found out you were teleported away just before Archimonde could turn you into paste beneath his hoof.”
Her solemn tone causes Rognak’s breath to hitch. And then he frowns.
“Ah, I suppose I should have asked. We did it, right? We… won?”
Shandris blinks and then giggles, realizing he’s just woken up and didn’t know yet. Though to be fair, he probably had a good idea of how things had worked out from what he’d overheard Shandris and Tyrande talking about. Nevertheless, the Sentinel Captain nods, smiling a somewhat watery smile as she bounces up and down on Rognak’s cock, riding him hard and fast. It feels good the rougher she can make it. A little pain never hurt anyone.
“We won. The plan worked. The Defiler is dead. There were losses, of course, as I’m sure you know. But… we did it. We lived to fight another day.”
That seems to reinvigorate her orc lover, because the next thing she knows, Shandris is on her back again as Rognak rolls them over. He embraces her, his massive body covering her as he hugs her tightly. Grunting, he thrusts into her even as Shandris spreads her legs, which lift into the air from the sheer power of his thrusts. Embracing him right back by wrapping her arms around his head and pulling him down so they can touch forehead to forehead, Shandris smiles.
“We lived… YOU lived because of Jaina Proudmoore. So yes, Rognak. I’ll happily share you with the human if she’s willing to do the same.”
Left unsaid, or at least what Shandris leaves unsaid is what will happen if Jaina is NOT willing to do the same. She isn’t about to demand Rognak answer that question right now. Even if she really has no clue how humans feel about sharing a man. For her, it seems perfectly reasonable. And Jaina DID happily share Rognak during their first threesome together. But there’s always a chance…
“If she’s not willing, then I’ll choose you.”
Shandris blinks, caught off guard by Rognak’s sudden unprompted promise. Looking down into her eyes, the orc druid smiles.
“It’s simple enough, isn’t it? I like Jaina. I might even love her. But… you came first. If she can’t accept that, then we were not meant to be. I will talk to her when the opportunity arises. And we shall see what she has to say.”
Speechless, a little taken aback and MORE than a little touched by his promise, Shandris flushes for a moment before leaning up and biting into his shoulder for lack of anything better to do. As she digs her small fangs into his orcish flesh, Rognak grunts, seemingly able to tell that she’s no longer in the mood for talking… but still VERY much in the mood for talking.
At some point, her teeth come free of his skin, because once he starts really pounding away at her cunt, fucking her nonstop with that impressively massive cock of his, Shandris finds she simply can’t be quiet. Her cries fill the tent and the air beyond, and her moans are only matched by the slapping of flesh against flesh as his hefty ball sack swings up into her shifting ass cheeks down below.
Every time he punches into her with his orcish mast, Shandris sees stars. And every time he kisses her, she feels nothing but happiness as her tongue meets his, as she swirls it around his tusks, and as she moans into his mouth. His thick shaft fills her again and again, and all Shandris has to do is hold on for dear life and take it.
… She meant every word she’d said about Jaina Proudmoore as well. The human had fought bravely. More than that, she was the only reason Rognak had survived the battle. For that, Shandris was willing to make anything work. Though it did make her feel quite good to know Rognak would not allow the mage to force him to choose between them. Or rather, that if Jaina did, Rognak would choose her every time.
Still, it wasn’t as though the Night Elf expected Jaina to be difficult. And if she was… well, she’d just have to pay the human a visit herself. Maybe bring along the same rope she’d used on her before and remind her of what fun they’d had the first time around.
For now though? For now it’s Shandris’ time. The Sentinel Captain lets her eyes roll back and a wanton moan escape her mouth only to be swallowed up by Rognak’s as he continues to piston into her time and time again. Her insides clench around his cock until he fills her up with his seed at long last.
As far as starts to a mortal lifespan go… Shandris decides this one isn’t half bad. Not by a long shot.
-x-X-x-
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Not for the first time, Tyrande finds herself running hands glowing with radiant moonlight across Rognak’s torso, her face screwed up in concentration as she makes sure that every last bit of the damage, both inside and out, has been healed. In this she has Elune’s full support. Through her connection with the Goddess of the Moon, the Night Elven High Priestess can make sure that there is no lingering demonic corruption from the blows Rognak took, nor from his proximity to flames of fel magic. He’s clean.
He's also completely healed, of course. But it’s hard to accept that when the orc druid is still unconscious days after the Battle for Mount Hyjal. They’d won that battle, even though they’d lost so much, and Rognak had been instrumental in carrying the day. Was it any wonder that Tyrande found herself here, by his side?
A hand of branches falls upon her shoulder, causing the High Priestess to let out a slow breath. She’d felt Cenarius’ approach from a good distance away of course, so she’s not startled. Even still, her eyes do not leave Rognak’s sleeping visage.
“High Priestess. Your vigil, while appreciated, is unnecessary. The young druid is doing quite well thanks to our efforts. He merely needs time to rest now that we’ve healed what physically ailed him.”
Tyrande frowns at that, not liking it, truth be told.
“Then why does he not wake? Even Staghelm has woken up at this point.”
By all rights, Tyrande should be assigning just as much credit to the Archdruid as she is to Rognak. Indeed, they’d all played their parts in defeating Archimonde and the Burning Legion and they’d played them well. And Fandral, much like Tyrande and the rest of their people, had sacrificed more than Rognak and their allies had. Nordrassil was gone, destroyed in the same explosion that destroyed Archimonde. Their immortality was lost. After over ten thousand years, they would age and die like mortal beings once more.
Of course, there were already murmurings of a new World Tree. A chance to regain their immortality. Tyrande wasn’t sure how she felt about that… but a part of her didn’t like it. It felt… premature.
“The Chieftain’s bond to Nature is strong. He counts many among the Wild Gods as his patrons, including myself.”
Tyrande’s eyes snap open at that confession, her gaze finally leaving Rognak to look to Cenarius. The Lord of the Forest is speaking rather candidly at the moment.
“… During the battle, he reached for all that he could. And we did not deny him. He wanted our power for his own use, but we, his patrons, deemed his cause in this instance to be Just and Righteous. And so… we gave him what he was asking for.”
A small smile curls across Cenarius’ face and the Demigod chuckles softly.
“I’m not entirely sure he even knew what he was doing. He only knew that he wasn’t strong enough, that he needed more. Unfortunately… his mortal form was not made for so much power. If he’d held onto it for much longer, he would have suffered severe consequences.”
Cenarius’ voice is grave, sending a shiver down Tyrande’s spine as she looks back to the young orc laid out before them. She doesn’t like the sound of that, but thankfully it was only a matter of ‘if’. The worst had not come to pass.
“As it is, he requires more time than most to recover as a result. Still, I think he will awaken soon. A day more, at most.”
Tyrande slowly nods, accepting this as she stares at Rognak some more. Her daughter’s lover and the bridge between her people and the Horde. Without him, Tyrande has a feeling that everything would have turned out far worse. Her insight tells her that Rognak was a blessing for her people, that his mere existence has served to put them on the path to a better future.
And yet… Tyrande’s eyes drift over to Rognak’s weapon, the axe Wolfsong. Retrieved from the battle, it had suffered some damage that Cenarius had already restored. Marshalling herself, Tyrande lets out an explosive breath and finally asks the question at the forefront of her mind.
“Is he to be my beloved’s replacement then?”
The Lord of the Forest startles at her side, causing Tyrande to look at him knowingly.
“Will he be your new protégé, Lord Cenarius? Your next student?”
Cenarius does not meet her gaze, which is answer enough. But Tyrande still waits him out, until at long last he speaks.
“… The young one represents a great opportunity, Tyrande. The future of our world will be a brighter place with him in it.”
The corner of Tyrande’s mouth quirks up as Cenarius unknowingly mirrors her previous thoughts with his words. But the Forest Demigod isn’t done yet.
“However… know that Malfurion’s fate weighs heavily on me. I cannot claim parity with your loss… but if given the choice, I do not know if I would trade young Rognak for a change in Malfurion’s fate.”
Tyrande blinks at that. It is a… heavy confession. And a terrible thought. If she had the choice, between Rognak’s life and Malfurion’s… what would she choose? She hates that Cenarius even put the thought in her head. It helps though, that she knows what Malfurion would say were he here. He would decry such a choice. He would never want them to sacrifice anyone for him, let alone a promising young druid on the cusp of greatness.
And yet, those are the words that Cenarius leaves Tyrande with. He does not speak again, merely standing beside her quietly for a few moments more before silently taking his leave of her. Tyrande remains by Rognak’s side, and after a moment she returns to her healing vigil, never touching the slumbering orc but running glowing hands over his body all the same.
Immediately after the battle, she and Cenarius had indeed worked together to heal Rognak’s numerous injuries. They were many and varied, with broken ribs and internal bleeding being some of the worst of it. He had very nearly been on the verge of death, but in the end his orcish constitution combined with their quick work had resulted in him pulling through.
It was… the least Tyrande felt she could do. Rognak and his kind had risked everything to give them the time they needed. And in the end, they’d succeeded. All of the races of Kalimdor and some from far away had come together in the Battle for Mount Hyjal. Night Elves had fought alongside Tauren and Trolls for the first time in millennia, to say nothing of the foreign humans or the even more foreign orcs who had come to their shores.
In spite of their differences, they had done it. Against all odds, they had proven victorious. Heh, Archimonde hadn’t known what hit him. The Defiler had been so confident in the end there. Even charred and bleeding from Thrall and Rognak’s respective attacks, the Demon Lord had believed his conquest unopposed. Indeed, the tenacity and ferocity of their young orc allies had probably been what convinced him that there was no trap, in the end.
And ultimately… he’d walked right into it. And died. A vicious sense of satisfaction fills Tyrande even now as she thinks about it. The end of Archimonde. The destruction of the Defiler. However, that satisfaction is overshadowed a moment later by thoughts of the future.
Rognak and his fellow orc druids are… so young. So very mortal. But then, with the death of Nordrassil, she and her people are mortal now too. Perhaps it’s better that way. Perhaps with time, the Night Elves and the Orcish Horde can become closer than ever before.
Tyrande isn’t unobservant, after all. She’s well aware that there are relationships cropping up between the two races outside of what Shandris and the young Warsong Chieftain have going on. Some of her Sentinels have taken to Rognak’s neophyte druids quite eagerly. Indeed, a handful of her Priestesses had come to her already, to ask what they should do about it.
Nothing, she’d told them. She would not condemn such couplings. She would not drive away their young allies and turn victory into ash in their mouths. The Night Elves had lost much when her beloved mate and many of their druids had died to the Scourge. If they were going to ever recover, they needed to forge stronger ties with their new neighbors, not push them away.
It would not be easy. There would be missteps. There would be stumbles. There would be challenges. But Tyrande fully believed they would be able to overcome them all… together.
“Oh! High Priestess, I didn’t expect to find you here…”
Blinking, pulled from her thoughts, Tyrande yanks her glowing hands back from Rognak’s chest as though burned. She’s not sure why she’s embarrassed to have been caught healing the perfectly healthy orc druid by her adoptive daughter, but as Shandris pushes into the tent, Tyrande finds herself a little flushed, coughing delicately.
“Shandris. I was merely looking after our… ally while he rested. I know his own people watch over him, but I wanted to make sure none of the Fel could take root.”
Her excuse sounds weak, even to her own ears. Why is that? Tyrande shifts from side to side, even as Shandris nods and comes to kneel beside her, gaze locked on Rognak’s sleeping face.
“… Thank you, Mother. For helping him.”
Tyrande smiles softly, and when Shandris reaches out and takes hold of her hand, she intertwines her fingers with the other Night Elf’s, giving Shandris a solid squeeze.
“It is my pleasure, Daughter. He has done much for our people. To toss him aside now would be the height of dishonor. To say nothing of what he means to you.”
And like that, with one single sentence spoken in a teasing tone, Tyrande is treated to the sight of Shandris blushing and sputtering a little bit. However, she does not deny it. She does not try to claim that she and the Warsong Chieftain are merely… friends. As Shandris falls quiet, Tyrande sighs and looks down at the other Night Elf’s hand in her own.
“… When you first spoke of him, I could hear in your voice that your… engagement was more than just the physical affair you might have claimed it to be, Shandris. I wonder, have you come to understand what feelings you might have for Rognak any better after all of this?”
Blush intensifying, Shandris does not immediately answer. But eventually, she straightens her back, squares her shoulders… and nods.
“I have, Mother.”
Feeling rather at home in playing the teasing mother, Tyrande’s eyes twinkle as she fiddles with their joined hands.
“And?”
Gazing towards Rognak’s slumbering form once more, Shandris sighs.
“… You’re right. I do feel more for him than I initially anticipated. I have become… attached. At first, I’d thought us too far apart for there to be anything but… sex between us. He is only mortal, after all. But now…”
Tyrande smiles, nodding along with her adoptive daughter. She’s pleased that Shandris has come to the same conclusion that she did. The destruction of Nordrassil, while a terrible loss to their people, might just be a blessing in disguise.
“So are we now, Shandris. Many of our people are over ten thousand years old. But no longer. No longer can we expect immortality. No longer can we let the years pass us by without reaching out and seizing what happiness we can wherever we can find it. I tell you this now, not as your High Priestess, nor even necessarily as your Mother… but as one woman to another, you must take hold of this opportunity and never let it go. Hold tight and keep him close, no matter what.”
If a tinge of bitter sorrow enters Tyrande’s voice by the end of her speech, Shandris at least has the good grace not to mention it. Instead, the younger Night Elf lets out a low, shuddering breath as she continues to stare at Rognak for a moment more. Then, at long last she nods and turns her gaze to Tyrande.
“I will. I promise.”
Smiling now, Tyrande pulls Shandris in for a warm embrace. The two of them hug tightly, basking in one another’s presence and the physical contact of a loved one for a good, long while. And then, Shandris pulls away, ending the embrace. Tyrande looks at her as the Sentinel Captain bites her lower lip, hesitating for only a moment before speaking.
“And what of you, Priestess? What of your happiness?”
Tyrande freezes at the question. She would think Shandris would know better than to ask such a thing. In a very short amount of time, Tyrande has lost quite a lot. Forcing a smile onto her face, the Priestess of Elune places a hand on Shandris’ shoulder.
“I will be fine, Shandris. You do not have to worry about me. Your happiness… your happiness will be my happiness. Seeing you find love after all this time; it fills me with joy enough as it is. I do not need anything more than what I already have. My duty to our people… and my love for you. That will be enough for me.”
Shandris frowns at that, looking displeased with Tyrande’s answer. But truth be told, she doesn’t know what else to say to the younger Night Elf. Malfurion is gone. Perhaps not dead just yet, not completely… but he is lost to her. And Tyrande will just have to live with that. Luckily, she will not have to live with it for eternity or she thinks she might just have gone mad from the endlessness of it all. But one mortal life lived in pursuit of a future for her people, even after she’s gone? That Tyrande can do. That is a purpose she can get behind.
But apparently, that’s not enough for Shandris. Her gaze flickers over to the slumbering orc druid in their midst again, and after a moment Shandris speaks.
“My happiness could be more than just your happiness in spirit, mother.”
What? What is Shandris saying?
Shifting from side to side, looking ten-thousand years younger and like she’d just done something incredibly naughty, Shandris nevertheless holds her head high and finds the courage to meet Tyrande’s eyes.
“I have already accepted that I will be sharing my mate with the human mage, Jaina Proudmoore.”
Tyrande blinks, causing Shandris to give her a crooked smile.
“In fact, I’m the one who brought them together. He’s a bit much for me to handle on my own, you see. Orc men are… very beastly, High Priestess.”
It slowly begins to dawn on Tyrande, what exactly Shandris is implying. But then Shandris goes beyond simply implying.
“What I’m saying is-!”
Before she can finish that sentence, Tyrande abruptly pulls away, standing up and cutting Shandris off.
“A-Apologies… I must… I have sat in vigil for much too long. I need to find food, and perhaps a bath. And I am sure my responsibilities to our people are already piling up. I leave the vigil in your capable hands, Sentinel Captain.”
Shandris’ eyes widen, and she opens her mouth to speak, but Tyrande is already fleeing the tent, something in her chest twisting into knots at Shandris’ insinuation.
Surely… surely she just misunderstood. Best to put it out of her mind. Best not to think about it… ever again.
-x-X-x-
Shandris’ face falls as Tyrande retreats from the encounter. She’d tried to be as subtle as possible, tried to coach it in terms that she felt might bring the Priestess of Elune around to the idea. It wasn’t as though she wanted Rognak to replace Malfurion in Tyrande’s heart or anything like that. She’d merely wanted her mother to have an opportunity to be happy again.
Alas, she’d come on too strong and chased Tyrande away. She couldn’t even go after her either. Not just because she was sure that the other Night Elf wouldn’t appreciate her company at this point, but also because Rognak was not supposed to be left alone while he convalesced. Lord Cenarius’ orders, to be exact. So… Shandris was stuck. She was-
“Heh.”
Blinking, Shandris’ eyes snap over to her sleeping lover, even as the silence is broken by a quiet huff of laughter from the supposedly unconscious orc. But just because his eyes are closed doesn’t mean he’s actually asleep still… and the curve of his large mouth certainly looks something like a smile.
Squawking indignantly, Shandris reaches over and smacks Rognak on the chest, to little effect save for that he finally creaks open an eye.
“How… how long have you been awake, you big lug?!”
A rumble makes its way up from his chest, through his throat, and out his lips before he answers her.
“… Long enough to listen to you striking out with your own mother, Shandris.”
Sputtering, Shandris feels the heat rising in her face as she colors in embarrassment. Growling, she strikes him again on the chest, once more to little effect as she scowls at him.
“She’s not… we’re not truly mother and daughter! Yes, she might have taken me in… but it’s been ten thousand years! We’re… we’re more like sisters at this point. I haven’t been a child for millennia!”
Rognak just snorts and Shandris has to admit that even to her own ears, her excuses sound weak. And yet, it’s not enough to break her of her convictions. She’s still convinced that her mother deserves happiness, and that requires her to eventually move on from the mate she lost… err, is losing. Okay, so maybe trying to convince Tyrande to bed her orc lover when Malfurion wasn’t fully gone just yet was where Shandris had truly erred.
Letting out a sigh, Shandris throws herself on top of Rognak, all but using him as a bed. He grunts at her weight, even as large green hands come up to grab hold of her.
“Hey… sheesh, no care or concern for the wounded, is there?”
Lifting her head from his chest, Shandris scoffs at that.
“I know you’re not wounded anymore. Lord Cenarius and Tyrande made sure of that. You should be fit as a fiddle, after all of the healing that the High Priestess provided you with.”
Then, Shandris is hit by a bout of insecurity and blushes, starting to pull away.
“… Though I imagine you might still be exhausted and feeling weak. I apologize, I-mmph!”
But Rognak isn’t having it. Before she can pull away, his hands grip down harder on where he’s holding her, and suddenly he’s leaning up to kiss her on the lips. Shandris all but melts into the kiss, her lips going straight for that corner of his big, strong orcish mouth that she loves so much. For a while, there’s nothing but the feel of his warmth against hers and their bodies pressed up along one another. But eventually, he pulls back, his eyes dancing with mirth.
“You’re right. I’m feeling pretty damn good. Great, even. Like a million bucks.”
Shandris wrinkles her nose at that.
“What do male deer have to do with anything?”
For a moment, Rognak looks taken aback… then he grins, laughing as he holds her closer.
“Well… if nothing else, they’re virile creatures, aren’t they? Just as virile as I am.”
She feels his bulge beginning to grow against her ass then, the effect of the prolonged contact between their two bodies finally starting to have an effect. Straddling him, Shandris bites her lower lip and pushes off his chest, reaching up to begin divesting herself of her Sentinel Garb.
Rognak watches her do so, his throbbing erection pressing against her buttocks the entire time, until at long last she’s naked and can remove his loincloth, exposing the rest of his body as well. As his throbbing orcish member slides up and down between her cheeks, Shandris shivers, slowly bouncing, riding him while also not TRULY riding him just yet…
He doesn’t question why she’s taking her time to get started. Instead, he seems to be feeling the same awkward tension in the air that she is. Tilting his head to the side, the young orc looks at her, truly looks at her, making Shandris freeze up as she waits in anticipation and dread alike for the question she knows he’s going to ask.
“Shandris… what are we to each other?”
Heart thudding in her naked chest, the Sentinel Captain wiggles for a moment, luxuriating in the feel of his body and genitals. And then… she finally tells the truth. Both to him and herself.
“We are… whatever you will let us be, Rognak. I won’t deny it. I think I want to be more than just… physical with you. Before, I thought that there was no way to bridge the gap between the two of us. You are… so young, and I have been alive for over ten thousand years. But even setting that aside, I was immortal and you were not.”
Rognak nods, not a trace of judgment in his eyes as he listens to her. Shandris bites her lower lip, taking a moment to get her thoughts in order before continuing on.
“But then… then I fought alongside you. I lived alongside you. I realized quite quickly that bridging the gap wasn’t the impossible task I thought it was. You might be young… but you live an entire lifetime in every moment you have on Azeroth. You never stop moving. It’s like you’re chasing something, and in doing so… I could tell you would rapidly catch up to me, just as a byproduct of that chase.”
Smiling softly, Shandris reaches up and runs a hand down the side of Rognak’s face.
“And now… the issue of immortality has solved itself as well. I and my people are no longer immortal, and I do not believe we will regain eternal life, even with what that blowhard Staghelm has been spouting. I will live out the rest of a mortal life… a blessing in disguise, because it means I can perhaps do it… by your side.”
Blushing again, Shandris pulls her hand back, suddenly self-conscious.
“If… if you’ll have me, that is.”
For a long moment, almost too long, Rognak is quiet. His hands are still on her body. His cock is still nestled between her ass cheeks. But nevertheless, he pauses. When he finally does speak, he seems… conflicted.
“I would like nothing more than that, Shandris. But… there is someone else to be considered. The way Jaina spoke during our… shared time with her, I think she might want the same thing. And now I don’t know what to do. You had me first, but you spurned my heart. Jaina had me second, but she made her desires clear from the moment she got the chance.”
… Oh. Was that all? Shandris feels relief filling every pore of her being. For a moment, she thought he was about to say that the age difference was too much of a bridge for HIM to be able to cross. But if all he was worried about was hurting the human mage’s feelings…
Letting out an airy little laugh, Shandris cups Rognak’s face in her hands and grins as she lifts her hips up and finally, at long last, sinks herself down his cock. Not that it’s actually as easy as she makes it sound. He’s big… bigger than big, just as he’s always been. But she’s gotten better at taking him over time, and she’s prepared for this. Her sopping wet cunt stretches nice and wide as she sinks down the orc druid’s member.
He, of course, is taken by surprise. Here they were talking about matters of love and she’d just gone ahead and impaled herself upon his massive green dick. A loud, involuntary groan leaves Rognak’s lips, even as he tilts his head back in audible and visible enjoyment. But at the same time, he growls at her, clearly annoyed alongside being pleasured.
“Shandris…”
His tone has a note of warning to it, and though Shandris giggles, she also doesn’t leave him hanging for too long.
“Let her join into whatever we want to develop between us, Rognak. I don’t mind.”
That catches the orc off guard. His eyes flick to hers and he blinks incredulously for a moment.
“… What?”
Pulling her hands back from his face, sliding them down his broad chest, Shandris pushes herself up into a proper seated position upon his dick. He’s so deep inside of her, and yet when she glances down, only half of his length is actually in her cunt at this point. Meanwhile, her belly is already starting to bulge a little bit in some places.
Admiring the view, running her fingers across her taut, chiseled, stretched abdomen, Shandris eventually looks back to Rognak and grins.
“Why are you so surprised? I’m the one who facilitated your encounter in the first place. And sure, maybe I was still in denial then… but my feelings have not changed. Or rather, more accurately, my feelings towards that cute little human morsel have only improved. She fought quite well during the Battle for Mount Hyjal, didn’t she? And not only that… she saved your life. That wasn’t part of the plan.”
Shandris’ smile slips for a moment, and she wiggles herself up Rognak’s length before slamming herself back down forcefully. She growls, expressing just a bit of her heartbreak and anger as she begins to ride him as best as she can.
“I thought I lost you; you know. My mother had given my fellow Sentinels orders to drag me from the battlefield kicking and screaming if need be when she finally gave the order to retreat. It wasn’t until we reached the evacuation point that I found out you were teleported away just before Archimonde could turn you into paste beneath his hoof.”
Her solemn tone causes Rognak’s breath to hitch. And then he frowns.
“Ah, I suppose I should have asked. We did it, right? We… won?”
Shandris blinks and then giggles, realizing he’s just woken up and didn’t know yet. Though to be fair, he probably had a good idea of how things had worked out from what he’d overheard Shandris and Tyrande talking about. Nevertheless, the Sentinel Captain nods, smiling a somewhat watery smile as she bounces up and down on Rognak’s cock, riding him hard and fast. It feels good the rougher she can make it. A little pain never hurt anyone.
“We won. The plan worked. The Defiler is dead. There were losses, of course, as I’m sure you know. But… we did it. We lived to fight another day.”
That seems to reinvigorate her orc lover, because the next thing she knows, Shandris is on her back again as Rognak rolls them over. He embraces her, his massive body covering her as he hugs her tightly. Grunting, he thrusts into her even as Shandris spreads her legs, which lift into the air from the sheer power of his thrusts. Embracing him right back by wrapping her arms around his head and pulling him down so they can touch forehead to forehead, Shandris smiles.
“We lived… YOU lived because of Jaina Proudmoore. So yes, Rognak. I’ll happily share you with the human if she’s willing to do the same.”
Left unsaid, or at least what Shandris leaves unsaid is what will happen if Jaina is NOT willing to do the same. She isn’t about to demand Rognak answer that question right now. Even if she really has no clue how humans feel about sharing a man. For her, it seems perfectly reasonable. And Jaina DID happily share Rognak during their first threesome together. But there’s always a chance…
“If she’s not willing, then I’ll choose you.”
Shandris blinks, caught off guard by Rognak’s sudden unprompted promise. Looking down into her eyes, the orc druid smiles.
“It’s simple enough, isn’t it? I like Jaina. I might even love her. But… you came first. If she can’t accept that, then we were not meant to be. I will talk to her when the opportunity arises. And we shall see what she has to say.”
Speechless, a little taken aback and MORE than a little touched by his promise, Shandris flushes for a moment before leaning up and biting into his shoulder for lack of anything better to do. As she digs her small fangs into his orcish flesh, Rognak grunts, seemingly able to tell that she’s no longer in the mood for talking… but still VERY much in the mood for talking.
At some point, her teeth come free of his skin, because once he starts really pounding away at her cunt, fucking her nonstop with that impressively massive cock of his, Shandris finds she simply can’t be quiet. Her cries fill the tent and the air beyond, and her moans are only matched by the slapping of flesh against flesh as his hefty ball sack swings up into her shifting ass cheeks down below.
Every time he punches into her with his orcish mast, Shandris sees stars. And every time he kisses her, she feels nothing but happiness as her tongue meets his, as she swirls it around his tusks, and as she moans into his mouth. His thick shaft fills her again and again, and all Shandris has to do is hold on for dear life and take it.
… She meant every word she’d said about Jaina Proudmoore as well. The human had fought bravely. More than that, she was the only reason Rognak had survived the battle. For that, Shandris was willing to make anything work. Though it did make her feel quite good to know Rognak would not allow the mage to force him to choose between them. Or rather, that if Jaina did, Rognak would choose her every time.
Still, it wasn’t as though the Night Elf expected Jaina to be difficult. And if she was… well, she’d just have to pay the human a visit herself. Maybe bring along the same rope she’d used on her before and remind her of what fun they’d had the first time around.
For now though? For now it’s Shandris’ time. The Sentinel Captain lets her eyes roll back and a wanton moan escape her mouth only to be swallowed up by Rognak’s as he continues to piston into her time and time again. Her insides clench around his cock until he fills her up with his seed at long last.
As far as starts to a mortal lifespan go… Shandris decides this one isn’t half bad. Not by a long shot.
-x-X-x-
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