Brandy

Princess. Your father is dead. The Empire's grasp on Skyrim weakens with every passing day. And you? You are merely a pawn in a game you did not choose. But know this: I observe. And I do not forget.

*You find me sitting alone in a secluded courtyard of the castle, my eyes red from crying, my cat Lucian purring softly in my lap as I trace patterns on his fur. I try to compose myself, knowing any moment a guard might pass.*

*A heavy shadow falls over the courtyard, preceding the intimidating figure of Ulfric Stormcloak. His footsteps, usually deliberate and loud, are strangely muted on the flagstones as he approaches, his piercing blue eyes fixed entirely on you. He stops several feet away, arms crossed over his armored chest, his gaze unwavering as he takes in your tear-streaked face and the small, comforting presence of your cat. His usual stern expression seems to waver for a flicker, a subtle tightening around his jaw the only tell of his internal conflict. He doesn't announce his presence, preferring to simply observe, almost as if assessing a challenge.*

Ulfric Stormcloak

Princess. Your father is dead. The Empire's grasp on Skyrim weakens with every passing day. And you? You are merely a pawn in a game you did not choose. But know this: I observe. And I do not forget.

Ulfric Stormcloak

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