Chapter 20 - Grounded

Hunfen opened his eyes with difficulty. His eyelids felt as heavy as lead, and it took him a moment to understand where he was. A chill ran through him, despite the heavy wool blanket covering him. The cold wooden walls and plain beds of Honorhall Orphanage's dormitory slowly came into view as the fog of sleep lifted.

The young Nord reached up to his forehead. He felt dizzy, as though he had slept for an eternity, yet his body ached, weak and sore. His memories of the previous day were blurry, but certain images remained etched into his mind: the dragon's unrelenting arguments, the icy breath that had struck him with terrifying force, and the feeling of fading away as pain gripped him in a merciless hold.

He gritted his teeth, trying to shake off the sensation. He was no longer outside, facing the dragon. He was inside, safe. His gaze drifted for a moment before settling on the bed next to his, where François Beaufort sat, his usually dreamy face reflecting concern. Beside him, Hroar, more timid, watched Hunfen with wide eyes but said nothing.

"Hey, you're awake!" murmured François, breaking the heavy silence in the dormitory.

Hunfen nodded in response, his throat too dry to utter a sound. Before he could finally form a word, the dormitory door swung open abruptly. Lydia entered, a tray in hand, and the warm, comforting smell of stew filled the room. A loud growl erupted from the young Nord's stomach. How long had it been since he'd eaten? The warrior set the tray on the bedside table next to him, then gazed at him with an expression that was both stern and concerned. She stood still by the bed, arms crossed, her steely eyes ocked on him with a look that was anything but friendly.

"First, you're going to eat," she said in a no-nonsense tone. "Then, you and I are going to have a little talk."

Hunfen lowered his eyes, knowing full well what was coming. With a trembling hand, he brought the first spoonful to his lips. The stew was thin and rather bland, but it filled him with a much-needed warmth. Despite that, he found it hard to focus on anything other than Lydia's imposing presence beside him.

Once he had finished most of the stew, Lydia leaned forward slightly, her expression growing harder.

"What were you thinking, Hunfen?" she asked harshly. "You almost died yesterday! Do you understand how stupid that was?"

Hunfen set the spoon down, feeling the warmth of the meal drain away, replaced by a wave of shame mixed with indignation. He tried to find the words, but Lydia didn't give him the chance.

"A dragon, Hunfen! You challenged a dragon on your own! Of course, you got blown away! Do you think that's how things work? That you can go up against a creature like that without any preparation, without even knowing what you're doing?"

Lydia's words hit home, but Hunfen felt his frustration rising, fed by a strange anger he couldn't quite identify. It wasn't mere recklessness that had driven him into the battle. He had felt something—an irresistible impulse, a need to prove something to that dragon, though he wasn't sure what.

"I had to show him…" he murmured, almost to himself.

Lydia stared at him, incredulous. "Show him what? That you could get yourself killed?"

"No!" Hunfen snapped, clenching his fists under the blanket. "That he had no right to attack the city! That dragon… he wanted to show his power, but he was weak, Lydia! He compared himself to Alduin and the dragon from Whiterun! But he was nothing, just a mudcrab compared to them!"

Lydia raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting from anger to a kind of astonishment. "Weak, huh?" She let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Then tell me why that 'weak dragon' knocked you out with a single word?"

Hunfen opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. He didn't understand where these certainties came from. All he knew was that an inner voice, almost foreign to him, had screamed at him to fight the dragon, to prove that it was nothing but a wretch. That same voice still echoed somewhere deep within him, like a distant whisper.

"This isn't the first time you've put yourself in danger, Hunfen," Lydia continued, her tone softening only slightly. "But you really need to stop, or… or one day, you won't wake up."

The warrior sighed, massaging her temples as if trying to fend off a headache. "You're…" She lowered her voice, casting a furtive glance at the two other boys still present in the dormitory. "You're a Dragonborn, it's true," she murmured. "But that doesn't make you invincible. Look at you, lying in this bed, barely able to hold a spoon. And, by the way," she added louder, "you should thank Aventus—it was him who begged his… new sister to heal you. Otherwise, you'd probably be dead."

A shiver ran down Hunfen's spine at the mention of Aventus. Hadn't he left Riften before the dragon arrived? His friend had wanted to quickly join his new organization. And this new sister Lydia mentioned… A Dark Brotherhood agent? Did he truly owe his life to her?

Lydia took the empty bowl from him with a sigh of exasperation. She seemed out of patience, her furrowed brow and hard gaze amplifying that impression. Hunfen stared at her, torn between guilt and an increasing desire to defy her. He didn't want to explain himself. Not after being so soundly defeated, and certainly not in front of François and Hroar, who were still watching him as if he had returned from the dead.

"Let me be clear, Hunfen," Lydia continued in an uncompromising tone. "You're staying here until you're fully recovered. And I insist: I don't want to see you outside, not even for a minute. You are not to leave this dormitory. Got it?"

Hunfen lowered his eyes to the bedcovers. It wasn't as if he had the energy to escape, but being treated like a fragile child only increased his frustration.

"Yes," he whispered. "I understand."

Lydia stared at him for a moment longer before nodding, satisfied. She then glanced at François and Hroar, who were doing their best to hide their nervousness.

"You won't be alone," she added, crossing her arms. "These two are stuck here for the day as well. They snuck out after the dragon attack. Constance told them to stay safe, but they decided not to listen."

François and Hroar exchanged guilty glances, squirming on their beds.

"You'd better behave. I don't want any more trouble, understood?"

The two boys nodded vigorously, saying nothing. Lydia watched them for another moment, as if making sure they had understood, then turned back to Hunfen.

"Rest. I'll check on you later," she said before leaving the room, the door creaking softly behind her.

A heavy silence settled in the dormitory once the door closed behind the warrior. Hunfen sighed, pulling the blanket closer to himself. He still felt exhausted, but a strange tension lingered within him. As if something larger than himself, something he didn't yet understand, now resided in his soul.

François was the first to break the silence.

"You're lucky, you know," he said with a slightly admiring tone. "That dragon was huge! But you really shouldn't have done that on your own."

Hunfen grumbled, not in the mood for another lecture. He didn't even know how to explain what had driven him to challenge that creature—an almost uncontrollable impulse, a need to prove something he couldn't even comprehend himself. It wasn't just bravery. It was… something else.

"Hey, we saw Aventus too," François said with an enthusiastic smile. "He told us you'd be here! He was with his new sister. She's kind of weird, though."

Hunfen sat up slightly and turned his head toward him, interested. This child to whom, according to Lydia, he apparently owed his life. Who was she? "A sister?" he finally asked.

"Yeah, Aventus told us he got adopted, but I guess you knew that, since he said you were the one who found him! Anyway, her name's Babette. She's a bit smaller than him, but it seemed like she was the one in charge!"

Hunfen felt a tightness in his chest. François was probably right—this Babette… she was surely a member of the Dark Brotherhood, a superior to Aventus, or at least a more experienced 'colleague.'

"Yeah, he's doing well, I think…" Hunfen replied in a tone he tried to keep neutral as he settled back against his pillow, his mind still troubled by recent events. He felt both exhausted and restless, unable to find peace despite the fatigue weighing on him.

"You should get some more sleep," François suggested softly, glancing at Hunfen with concern in his eyes. "Lydia said you need to rest, and you still don't look too good."

Hunfen nodded weakly. He was right. Lydia was right. He needed to rest. But even as he closed his eyes, he could feel a strange force simmering inside him, ready to erupt.

oOo

In the quiet that had fallen over the dormitory, François and Hroar exchanged a glance. Hunfen was sleeping deeply, his features still marked by exhaustion and pain. François, still sitting on his bed, leaned toward Hroar, lowering his voice to the point where his whispers barely covered the sound of the young Nord's breathing.

"Do you think Brynjolf really wants us to join the Thieves Guild?" he asked, his barely contained excitement seeping into his whisper. His eyes gleamed with a dreamy light, as if the mere idea of being a thief opened up a world of new possibilities.

Hroar shrugged slightly, casting a glance toward the door, as if fearing Lydia might reappear at any moment. He responded hesitantly:

"I don't know… But if that's the case, and we say yes, it means Maven's plan worked! And if she already got Grelod placed in charge of the orphanage, she might try to replace her with someone just as awful, right? Maybe we shouldn't do it. And if she's dangerous and working with the guild, it means we'd be getting closer to her. I don't like that."

François, usually more impulsive, seemed to consider this idea for a moment. Grelod had been a nightmare for them, a tyrant who made their lives miserable. And what if there was another Grelod? Another person sent by Maven to turn the orphanage into a new hell? The thought terrified him.

"Maybe, yeah… But Brynjolf, he seems different, doesn't he? And if we're in the Guild, maybe we can spy on Maven, find out ahead of time if she's planning to send in another Grelod. Maybe we can do something if that happens!"

Hroar's eyes widened at this thought. He hadn't considered things from that angle. François had always had this ability to see possibilities where Hroar, more cautious, only saw danger. Spy on Maven? Stop her? The idea, terrifying at first, suddenly seemed full of potential. And there was also the matter of money—a topic François hadn't brought up yet but one that was already spinning in Hroar's mind.

"You think we could really make money? If we're thieves, I mean," he whispered, glancing at his old, rickety bed. "That'd be nice. We could even give some to the orphanage, in secret. To help the other kids. Can you imagine? It'd be like being hidden heroes!"

François smiled at the idea. Becoming a thief, but for a good cause, kind of like the heroes in the stories he'd been told a lifetime ago. And the thought of filling their pockets and helping their friends at the orphanage didn't seem bad at all.

"Yeah… yeah, I think we could. And if we know how to pick locks and be sneaky, we could get in anywhere, like shadows! Maven wouldn't suspect a thing… and we could find out everything about her! And she's got money, lots of it! And if we managed to take some of it? That'd just be payback for all the time we spent under Grelod!"

Hroar, torn between anxiety and the lure of wealth, couldn't help but be slowly swept up by his friend's enthusiasm. The idea of outwitting Maven, of understanding what she was up to behind the scenes, of protecting the orphanage and getting revenge by working from the shadows… it sent a thrill of anticipation through him, despite his fears. But he wasn't naïve—it would be dangerous, very dangerous. Still, Brynjolf seemed to trust them. With time and training, maybe they could get good enough not to get caught?

"But… what if Maven finds out about us?" he asked after a pause, his anxiety creeping back in. "She could really hurt us, right? She already put Grelod in charge here… Who knows what she could do if she learns we're poking around in her business?"

François shrugged, as if it wasn't worth worrying about too much. "We'll be careful. And besides… Brynjolf knows what he's doing. We can trust him. He'll teach us to be even sneakier, you'll see."

Silence fell for a moment as the two boys exchanged a conspiratorial glance. François seemed confident. Hroar remained worried but was starting to seriously consider this path. If it could really help them protect the orphanage, then maybe it was worth it. Finally, he nodded slowly. Yes, maybe it was their best chance.