Just a fun little thing my mind came up with. I'm pretty sure this isn't uncommon for everyone's playthrough... I hope. Enjoy.

Shit. Shit.

He didn't mean to do it.

No, he never meant to do it. It was all an accident. An accident. What happened was his body acting out before his brain kicked in and made him see sense. What happened shouldn't reflect his identity as a whole. Because it was an accident. And… well, accidents happen. He never meant to Fus Ro Dah the person hard enough that he went flying into a wall… which then collapsed like it was made of straw.

…At least he didn't do it on a cliff! That would have been horribly messy.

But for the love of Mara, he was the Dragonborn. Cold-blooded murder was hardly a part of his job description. Well, at least until the bandits, vampires, daedra, and the dragons came into the equation. Any amount of bloodbaths were then allowed to occur without punishment and with much enjoyment.

But still. Because he was Skyrim's hero, he ought to set an example. Because… well, that was what heroes do (he thought). And the number one no-no was killing a civilian no matter what.

Because that was what he'd done. He killed a civilian.

The kicker here was that he felt good about it. At least until the guilt started seeping in and now he realized that he was going to have to tell this person's wife of her husband's untimely demise. Oh, yeah, that'll be easy to do when every part of him thought that the man (sort of) deserved it since he was nothing but a total ass.

"What to do… what to do…" The Dragonborn muttered as he paced back and forth. He and his recently deceased acquaintance were currently hidden behind a house in Whiterun. It was a poor hiding place and it painfully showed, but it wasn't as if someone would go around this part of the city. Everyone here only walked to and fro on a set location only. It was the same way for every town and city he'd gone into.

…For some reason.

He suddenly heard a voice sounding dangerously closer and closer to his spot. He could feel his stress levels skyrocket as he cast a panicked glance at the dead man on the ground. The footsteps sounded closer and closer and—

"Oh, Dragonborn. Hello to you," a Redguard woman said, surprised as she nearly walked into the man himself.

The Dragonborn's responding smile was strained and looked much closer to a grimace. "Oh, er, hello to you, too, Ahlam."

"I didn't think I'd find you in here," the woman then said.

He tried not to gulp. "Well, I decided to, uh, take the scenic route to Dragonsreach. Because that was where I was heading. Yep. Definitely Dragonsreach."

Ahlam nodded, unaware of the man's inner turmoil. "Oh, I shouldn't be on your way then. I'm just looking for Nazeem. Have you seen him, by any chance?"

Shit. He fought off his urge to look at the house behind him. "N-Nazeem? Well, no… You're actually looking for him?"

"I know, it's surprising. It's just that my dear husband might be insulting everyone again, and I have to get him out of the marketplace before he finally does enough damage to himself—scratch that, make that everyone around him, the idiot." Ahlam said.

Don't look at the dead body. Don't don't don't. "Well, I most certainly haven't seen the man. I'm sorry."

"I'll keep asking around, then. Have a good day."

"You too, Ahlam. I'll let you know if I find him."

The woman was soon out of sight, and the Dragonborn found himself alone with the dead body of Nazeem once again. A few moments of silence passed, with him staring down at Nazeem as if, through sheer force of will, the man would rise up from the dead like nothing happened and everything would be normal again.

Nazeem did not.

Feeling mildly disappointed, he couldn't help but say:

"This is all your fault, you know. If you haven't asked me for the nth time about whether I've been to the Cloud District or not, this wouldn't have happened."