In her 29th summer of life, Fjori the huntress met the warlord Holgeir on the field of battle. None remember what they fought over, for their love to come was so great it overshadowed all rivalries or disputes. They fought to a standstill, as their followers looked on - till her sword broke his axe and his shield dulled her blade and all could see that they were equals.
As the Eagle finds its mates, so too did Fjori find hers in Holgeir, and a time of peace came to the clans of the forest. But as the summer's warmth gives way to winter's chill, so too would this peace pass.
-- Of Fjori and Holgeir
The business of Skyrim isn't about love. The people of the harsh land, the native Nords and those who choose to settle there among the ice plains and marshes, aren't generally looking for love. There is peace in the wind swept plateaus, and even a luxurious sort of solitude, but seldom do people expect to find love.
It is poetic the way it happens for those in the icy north - they are almost always caught by surprise. Battle and harsh weather are expected, famine and natural disasters are anticipated, bandits all too common. But love and all the complications and benefits of it cannot be prepared for in advance and seldom foreseen. the surprise is what makes the Nords fall harder, because it is always true and strong when it hits them, just like the hearts it inhabits.