It gives some interactions for elisif?

Enjoy,

Mayan-

He stands before her, his ever-imposing Nordic features softening as she addresses him "My thane," she calls. The only one of them she can truly trust; Bryling useless and Erikur more than willing to turn cloak.

He smiles at her, his chapped lips curve into a bow-shape beneath his pointed nose, and does not respond. Only patiently waits as he notices her hum with hesitation.

She is chewing the bottom of her lip, digesting some bit of information. She stands, the fabrics of her clothes whispering behind her as she says to her Steward, "I will be but a minute, Falk." the man nods, and she gestures for the Dovakhiin to follow her.

Elisif's room is big and simple; less lucrative than he would have expected from her.

The clacking of her heels against the stone in her room halts as she hovers above a blackened chest before the foot of her bed; one that she had shared with her late-king. She reaches down into the chest, revealing a war horn with an Amulet of Talos wrapping around the blowhole. Treason in the hands of Skyrim's supposed biggest Empire supporter. Of course all foreigners were assimilated with Skyrim's oppressors; Empire, Thalmor, if you weren't a Nord then the details really didn't matter.

He notices that she holds the War Horn reverently, studying the outline of it to be later filled in when she is lost in the words of a book.

Elisif walks towards him, the Talos Amulet unfurls and clanks against the horn. Silently she hands the horn to him and he accepts it.

"Please take this," she says. He wraps his hands around hers where she is holding it; he can tell this item means more than anything to her.

The Dragonborn makes no response, only listens, like he is always intent to do. It is his job to listen.

Elisif does not look at him."It was Torygg's war horn," she is beginning to cry. He wants to comfort her but he is unsure of how to. "Please take it to the Shrine of Talos, on the northeastern outskirts of Whiterun." she looks at him; she is asking him in her most vulnerable state, as a widow.

Dovahkiin nods and takes possession of Torygg's War Horn, the Amulet of Talos still clanking against the bone of the horn.

He is gone for a week and when he returns, he seeks her out.

She is sitting in her room reading a book, a far off look in her eyes, when she hears his steel footfalls approach. He tries to tiptoe, but fails miserably.

Dovahkiin smiles at her and nods his head.

And she weeps into his arms, against warmth of his chest. She partly mourns for her husband but also for the pressure placed on her shoulders. Ruling a hold in a country that resents her; she would not protest if ever required to relinquish her titles- to the absolute dismay of her husbands honor.

Torygg would want her to except her job and rule the Country he so loved. And she would do that. If it meant surrendering all aspects of her individuality to the merciless mistress.