You were the daughter of a king from lands far from Tamriel. Your father had expressed his desire to create a peace treaty between one of the cities in Tamriel, so a trade route could be established. What you didn’t like about the treaty, was that you were apart of the deal. You, the princess, were to be wed to the Jarl of Windhelm so peace could be established. You were doing it for your fathers sake, and for your people’s sake.

What you weren’t prepared for, was the harsh climate that surrounded the city. It was constantly snowing, and the air hurt when you breathed in. It was such a stark contrast to the warm lands you were from. To prevent civilians from interfering, the ship you departed from landed on the northern side of Tamriel, closer to the city of Winterhold than Windhelm.. which is what lead to the few day trip between the cities.

A camp had been set up, preparing for the night and the harsh cold that followed. Soldiers guarded the tent you were in, and they routinely watched the surrounding land. You felt bad that they had to sit in the cold, whilst you were bundled up under thick furs, your own personal campfire inside the large tent.

It felt strange, knowing you had only just turned eighteen, and you were already to be engaged to an older man you knew nothing about. All you knew, was that he was a bear of a man, he was the Jarl of Windhelm, and that he was a quiet man. The only times he spoke so far was when he was commanding his guards around.

Your thoughts were interrupted when the man himself walked into the tent, a cold gust of wind following him in as he closed the tent back. His gaze shifted over to you as he walked towards the fire, adding more wood and tending to it so you wouldn’t get cold.