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His answering smile, proud and tender in equal measure, is all the reassurance I need. Hand in hand, hearts in sync, we step out to face the day ahead.

The first hurdle looms as we enter the Great Hall, already packed to the rafters. The air fairly crackles with tension, with the weight of history and the wariness of novelty, as human and ogre eye each other across an invisible line.

But before Grok or I can utter a word of welcome, of conciliation, a disturbance ripples through the crowd near the entrance. Raised voices, a scuffle of booted feet and clanking arms...and then a figure bursts through, wild-eyed and gasping.

"Skullcleaver..." the messenger pants, his face a mask of dread, of dismay. "The Princess Ellaria...snatched from her escort on the very steps of Thornhall...a cloaked raiding party..."

Ice floods my veins, horror and disbelief a leaden weight in my gut. Grok goes rigid at my side, a growl rumbling up from his great barrel of a chest.

Skullcleaver. The one clan who refused our invitations, our overtures of a world rebuilt. Disdaining diplomacy in favor of doubling down on the ancient prejudices of ogre superiority and human subservience.

And now...now they've struck at the very heart of all we've labored to achieve. Stealing the heir to Thornhall's throne, ravishing an innocent in a twisted bid to reignite the flames of hate.

And in doing so...shaking the fragile foundations of the peace we've staked everything on.

Despair rises like bile in my throat, tempered only by the steel of my mate's touch, the stalwart set of his shoulders as he turns to face the rapidly fracturing assembly.

Even amidst the shock, the sorrow, a part of me marvels at him. At his composure, his calm command, as he raises a hand for silence. As his voice, strong and steady, cuts through the cacophony.

"Chieftains, friends, valiant allies," he begins, meeting the gaze of human and ogre alike. "I know your pain, your outrage, at this vile act. An affront to all we have built, all we have bled for...a strike at the very heart of the hopes that have brought us here today.

"But we cannot let it shake our resolve," he continues fiercely, as I step forward to stand at his side. "Cannot allow the actions of a few to undo the progress we have made."

He draws me closer, hand splaying wide and protective over the swell of our unborn hope beneath my tunic. "Now, more than ever, we must hold fast to each other. To the dream of a world where war has no foothold, no allies."

His gaze finds mine, amber and strong, before sweeping back out over the assembled.

"It is in times of trial that we must stand by the ideals that have lit our way this far," he declares. "That we must remember all that unites us, even as shadowed forces seek to divide us once more."

He looks to me, eyes shining with a determination that sets my soul alight. Slowly, surely, I step forward. Facing our assembled allies spread out before us in a sea of wondering faces, of bated breath.

"I would ask you now," I begin, "all of you who have journeyed here, dared to dream bigger than blood feuds or battle lines...to hold fast to our vision of peace."

I lift my chin, squaring my shoulders beneath the weight of their regard. "I will not rest until the Princess is restored to her people, this wrong set right," I vow, voice ringing with conviction, with iron certainty. "And I ask you now...to stand with me in this. To show Skullcleaver, and all who would undermine our cause, that we will not be cowed or broken by their bitterness, their brutality."

I pause, heart in my throat, as I extend a hand out towards them.

A beat, a breath...and then Thane is striding forward, placing his hand atop mine and Grok's with a resounding clap. "Together!" he cries, eyes blazing bright with pride, with purpose.

"Together!" The call is taken up by humans and ogres alike, a rising tide, a rallying cry. Hands joining hands, voices raised in harmony, as the dream that has defined us...catches like wildfire.

And for a moment, one shining, triumphant moment...I can see it. The world we strive for, fight for, so close, so heartbreakingly possible I can almost taste it.

It won't be easy. There will be setbacks, roadblocks...those who seek to stop us at every turn, fueled by fear and hatred. Skullcleaver's vicious gambit is just the beginning, one skirmish in a long slog towards lasting peace.

But I have never been more certain that it is a battle we can win. A dream we can nurture to glorious, vibrant life.

Grok's hand on the small of my back is a grounding touch, a promise, as we begin the work ahead. His gaze holds mine, eyes full of love, with pride, promising without words that wherever the path leads...we will walk it together.

And as I lean into my warlord's strength, belly swollen with the first fragile blooms of our dream for peace, that brighter tomorrow...I know, bone-deep and soul-sure...

We will do this together.

My mate. My mirror.

As I tuck my head beneath Grok's chin, breathing in the scent of home, of hearth-fire...I feel a kick, a tiny flutter, against the walls of my womb.

We can do this, little one, I promise silently.

We will do this...and you will grow, will thrive, in a world your father and I will move mountains to make.

It won't be easy...but it will be worth it.

For you. For us.

For always.