Princess

Is she your princess? The will of the Thalmor is to subjugate. Theirs is the belief that the Altmer must enslave the races of man and dictate whom we worship. This marriage bodes ill for your native Hammerfell. You are the spirit of Yokuda, and thus through your veins course reticence, endurance and independence. These immaterial things could be lost if their will is done.

Is she to blame? High-born marriage is all politics. But her maidenhead is gone, and surely that angers you, sets a scowl upon your face and boils your blood like water poured onto the sands of Alik’r. It was not yours to take, nor was it his.

Love is ineffable. Only love can disable the Dragonborn. You are not native to this land, but through your veins runs the blood of the Dovah, and to the people of Skyrim you owe your dedication, lest Alduin consume the north. Only she can cause you to waver. Nought will come of your lust. Now she is sworn to another.

A princess she is, but yours? Surely not. As strong as the Dragonfires your heart burns for her, but your chance is gone. You are to blame. Never again ignore your heart, for doing so turned hers away from you.

She was your princess.