But while the orc princess passionately listed which families thrived from those dependable unions and which political dynasties flipped upside down because of them, in a faraway galaxy, someone else was sharing what should have been the same story, only with a completely different flavor.
It was not a warm retelling, nor was it romantic in any way.
Inside a dimly lit chamber lined with old banners, a young elven princess sat stiffly on a carved chair much too large for her. Her legs barely reached the edge. Her hands were folded tightly in her lap. And her bright eyes darted toward the towering figure pacing slowly before her.
He spoke with a silky voice that was meant to sound wise and regal. It only sounded frightening.
"Orcs," he began, as if the very word was venom. "Vile creatures. Ugly things. Nothing like us."
The girl flinched.
His shadow stretched long on the floor. He gestured sharply, like slicing through invisible foes.
