I'm Glad I Get Forever
summary: Asking your partner if they'll fall for someone else after you've died. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Teldryn, Balimund, Mercer, Farkas, Vilkas, Miraak, Arnbjorn, Brynjolf, Cicero warnings: non graphic mentions of death/grief obv masterlist
Yes
Teldryn ponders the question, feet propped comfortably on your lap. He enjoys evenings like this; sharing a bottle of wine miles from the nearest town, nothing but the stars to keep you company. For weeks you'd swapped stories until there was nothing left to tell - you knew each other too well. Asking each other questions became an easy way to stave off boredom. "I suppose." He sighs, watching your brows raise. "We both know you'd give me some deathbed speech about how you want me to keep living, cursing me to seek a new patron willing to drag me across Tamriel. Can't have my talents going to waste." He's right, of course. Teldryn's always right.
Balimund knows he will never seek out romance - he hadn't even sought you out, merely a series of happy accidents that led you into his heart. A blacksmith made a fair partner for a warrior, romance blossoming over years spent haggling over his forge. "If it happened organically, don't think I'd sabotage it." He muses, stretching out the sore muscles in his shoulder. The thought of you passing makes him feel a bit ill but he brushes past it, trusting in armor crafted by his own hands to keep you safe. "You'll always be my heart, but I've got a feelin' you wouldn't want me to end up alone."
Mercer says yes, the lie slipping easily between gritted teeth. He's already let you get too close and he can't pass up the perfect opportunity to force a bit of distance. He refuses to let you know the horrible truth he harbors deep in his chest - he cares for you. Rolling his eyes he pointedly ignores the cute divot between your brows. "Of course." He lies, panic clawing at his throat at the mere thought of losing you. "Maybe I'll find someone who bothers me less."
Farkas has to sit with your question, rolling it around in his mind. His gut reaction is to refuse - no one else could capture his heart as you have, right? Though, he hadn't expected to fall for you either. It could happen again. "Maybe a few decades later, after I've mourned and all that." He offers, though he simply cannot see a future for himself without you; your home built together, your family growing with age, your hands healing every little wound. It is only you. "Seems unlikely for you to go first, though."
No
Vilkas declines without a second thought. He doesn't even look up from his book, apparently unfazed by your question. There's a cute flush creeping up his cheeks, though you bite back the urge to comment on it. "I know you'd haunt me." He mutters, kissing your knuckles. "I'll keep an eye out for your ghost, though. Don't think that would count as seeing someone else."
Miraak is disgusted by the thought. He cannot fathom living life alone once more, the idea of another partner taking your place making him feel sick. You'd carved out space in his old heart, no other could fill the void left by your absence. "Each of my days would be too heavy without you, my love." Intense as always, he clutches your face. "You are the sole resident of my heart. I fear that I would not last long in this life without you - I would soon follow you into whatever afterlife will accept my tainted soul."
Arnbjorn rolls his eyes at your question. It's quite fun getting under his skin, though you keep that thought to yourself. Even if you know he will never harm you, he is sharpening a freshly formed dagger. "I didn't even want to fall for you, I'm not doing this again." He grunts, pointedly ignoring your excited gasp. "You're it for me." "I had no idea you could be sweet." "Shut it." He snarks, the blunt edge of his blade swinging toward where you're perched on his workbench. "Or your death will become more than a hypothetical."
Brynjolf's heart cannot withstand another, losing you would be too much. Your words remind him of those awful days he thought Mercer had stolen you from him - the pit he'd fallen into, the despair sitting so heavily on his chest. He cannot imagine living with the gnawing, ceaseless pain your loss would create once more. "Never." He doesn't find the humor in your question, holding you a bit tighter to his chest when you fall into bed. There is no one else for him. Brynjolf's known this for ages, you are the love of his life.
Cicero giggles at your question - how silly! His funny Listener, no one else can ever measure up to you. Only you understand him. Mother's chosen, his most beloved Listener, you are love to him. "Funny Listener, don't make Cicero laugh." He sighs, pinching at your cheeks. "Your jokes have gotten better - it seems you're taking after your favorite jester!" "I was serious." "Never, ever, ever, ever!" He sings, planting a kiss on your nose. "Only my silly Listener, forever and ever."
