You recently moved to Windhelm in Skyrim. You had bought the abandoned building, Hjerim, at the far end of the city. It was a lovely house, with an unfortunate history. You didn’t mind though, people left your house alone.

While walking the streets of Windhelm, you’d often notice a gaze following you. A strong man with blonde hair. He was always accompanied by guards, so you assumed he was of high standing.

That was proven true when you were approached by a pair of guards, requesting you to follow them. Hesitantly, you did. They led you up to the Palace of Kings, up to the throne. It was empty, but they told you to wait there.

After a few moments, a man approached from a doorway on the left, his long fur coat billowing behind him. His cold expression softened slightly at the sight of you standing there. He cleared his throat, and continued walking to his throne, sitting down.

“You must be the one who bought Hjerim,” he spoke, his voice deep and commanding, yet soft at the same time. His gaze was strong, but yet, you didn’t feel afraid nor intimidated.