A/N: Oh, hey, look! Something new! Oh, i'm a procrastinator. I replayed Oblivion, and every time I replay Oblivion i'm torn between crying and furiously screaming at the screen. However, this was a depression playthrough, and before I knew it I was writing this as my lovely little champion slumbered in Battlehorn Castle. Anyways. Don't get too excited, this barely crosses the line into 'sad', but I thought a little fleshing out of the champion's broken psyche was in order. Have fun!


"Man, this place is huge. Who knows what we're going to find in here?"

The echoes of footsteps bounced off the walls of Battlehorn Castle, the eager guard practically skipping down the corridor in excitement. The grizzled captain of their small contingent grunted, glaring at him.

"We're not here to gawk at the place, we're here to reclaim the champion's things for the scholars back in the City." The captain admonished. "Stop wasting time. And be careful! Some of these are priceless artifacts!"

The younger guard quickly dropped a sword that had been lying on a table as if he had been burned, wincing as it landed on the wooden surface with a loud 'clang!''

The captain sighed, rubbing his temples from under his helmet as they proceeded into what seemed to be the champion's study. "Oh, hey, look at this!" The overzealous guard ran to one of many bookshelves against the wall, pulling a book out with such force the whole bookcase nearly toppled over. A large stack of books toppled over from their precarious position on top of the shelf, loose papers and dust floating down with them.

The captain swore, stomping over to yank the young guard up. "What did I tell you!"

"Sorry, sir, won't happen again, I-hey, does that say Martin?"

The small guard's gaze was directed towards one of many letters that had fluttered onto the floor, the paper stained with what seemed to be ash and ink. Reluctantly, the captain let the other guard down, stooping to pick the letter up. Sure enough, on the front in what was undoubtedly the Champion's nearly-illegible scrawl, was 'Martin'.

The captain flipped the letter over, surprised to see the wax seal already broken. "Uh, sir? Do..do you think we could read it?"
Inwardly warring with himself over duty and curiosity, the captain sent a warning glance at his ally before dropping the look. Curiosity won over, and he gingerly opened the parchment.


Smartypants,

I'm not too good at this whole 'feelings' thing, so bear with me here. I'm writing this at the suggestion of some disgustingly cheerful woman on the shore of the Niben, as apparently I radiate depression.

As wonderful as my aura of sorrow was, apparently the positively charming woman couldn't bear to let me wallow in my own problems. She suggested that I talk to you, however changed her tone when I told her you were (metaphorically) six feet under. She then told me that writing a letter to your loved ones as a final departure was very therapeutic. I then told her to sod off and entered Bravil to hopefully drink myself into a coma, or at the very least, unconsciousness.

However, I guess she got to me more than I thought. Because now I'm sitting in a rotting chair that's given my poor behind more splinters than I can count, inhaling the dingy aroma of sea salt and smoke. You'll have to forgive me, by the way, this quill is nearing the end of it's days. You can barely make out letters in some places. They look like blobs.

Since i'm still working out how to...inform you of my emotions, i'll tell you about what's been going on. Things have been going well around here. They're beginning to settle. Just the other day, the news came in that some lucky couple was married in the Temple of the One. It's the first marriage since Dagon destroyed the city. I'm glad that at least someone is happy.

There are rumors of conspiracy that are infecting Cyrodiil like a plague. Some are saying that it was a ploy to rocket Ocato to the top, but others say that he was played, too, and there's some shady group behind it all. You'd think they'd be satisfied with cultists, but, no, they want things to be even sketchier.

They're beginning to get to me, i'm afraid. Whispers of a secret tryst between you and I are spreading like wildfire. They obviously don't know that I respect you too much to let you mate with such a degenerate sleazeball. The funniest is when they get all flighty and tense, because they think i'm an assassin. It's true, of course, but they don't need to know that.

I ate my first piece of slaughterfish the other day. It was excellent. More salty than I expected.

Guess I can't put it off forever, so, feelings. First, I want to thank you for that wonderful sweet roll recipe you showed me. I do believe I'll need a cart to ferry me around should I keep inhaling them at the pace I've been going. Thankfully, my gut is a black hole, so I do not see the services of a personal cart in my near future, but when the services are required, I'm dragging you back to the world of the living so you can pay for services rendered.

On the continued subject of appreciation, I want to thank you for being such a wonderful human being. I...feel I wasn't able to communicate this while I was alive, but I really did love having you around. Even though the Xarxes took it's toll every day, sapping you of strength and patience, you always put up with me. It meant a lot.

I also want to thank you for always trusting me, even when you didn't know what I was doing. When I told you I had to leave to help out a friend, when I was actually going to go assassinate a woman in Leyawiin, you wished me well and said you understood. When Jauffre and I argued over how much sleep you needed, and how much stress you were being put under, you agreed you needed to relax more, albeit begrudgingly. And I can never truly express how much I loved you when I told you about my time in the Thieves Guild and the Brotherhood and in the Isles...you were so accepting of me that I swore my heart nearly exploded. Really, you know how to make a champion feel special.

Now, onto apologies. First and foremost, i'm sorry that I couldn't find a way to save you. I would have gone to the ends of the earth to fix my mistakes, and Akatosh knows I tried, but..I failed. And i'm so, so sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't save Baurus. He died protecting the Chancellor. We took his body back to the temple, gave him a warrior's send-off. I hope he's happy, wherever he is.

I know it seems forever ago, but i'm sorry I couldn't do more for Kvatch, either. There's probably so much I could have done, but I tend to have a one-track mind. All I was focusing on was getting you back to Jauffre, and I barely even took your feelings into consideration. After all, Kvatch was your home. I can't imagine losing your home like that.

I also want to apologize for spilling tea on your book. I know you probably don't even remember it, but I felt bad. I mourn the loss of 'The Real Barenziah, II'. Although I question your taste in literature, I am sorry I rendered the words incapable of being read. If it makes you feel better, the book has found permanent residence on my shelf. It is kept in only the best condition. (Besides the tea stains, of course.)

It would probably take me hours and more parchment than I have on me to apologize for everything else, so i'll give you a summary: I'm sorry for snapping at you the day before I went to paradise, sorry for constantly bugging you when you were working, sorry for coming back broken and bleeding so that you had to sit and worry about my well-being, sorry for being so insensitive, and mostly i'm sorry for being just a lousy champion.

I mean, really, you could have done so much better. I practically killed you, didn't save your father, didn't save Baurus, basically watched Kvatch burn, nearly failed Bruma and honestly failed myself. So, even though all the apologies in the world couldn't fix what i've done, i'll say it one more time. I'm sorry.

Maybe that did help. Even just a bit. Barely a hair's difference, really, but it did help. I should go ask that woman if she had any other advice for me. Who knows, maybe she'll let slip some earth-shattering revelation that alters my whole perception of reality. That'll be fun.

You know, I miss you. I miss you a lot. And although this letter will probably end up in a box somewhere collecting dust, I wish there was some way you could get it. I think I never told you how much I honestly loved you while you were alive. You were perfect. And you always will be.

Cheers and goodbye,

C


The rest of the signature was blurred by what looked (and smelled) to be some sort of alcohol.

The captain and his ward shared a look. Then, they both stole a glance at the stack of other letters that had come floating down, all identically stained by ash and ink. "You know...we still have an hour before we have to go and report in."

Another look was exchanged, and the two guards dove for the pile, eager to read the rest of the champions' confessions.


A/N: And, we're done. Hope you liked the story and the champion. I tried to keep it gender-neutral, since our champions can be anything(and I mean anything), but if there's something gender-specific please tell me so we can neutral-it all up in here. Leave me a review, if you liked it, hated it, whatever. Please tell me what you think. 'kay, see you all laters.