Chapter Text
Hiccup was plummeting downward at terrifying speed, losing his sense of reality. Beneath him, furious flames raged, rising into the sky after the devastating fall of the Red Death. The enormous body of the fallen giant collapsed, literally tearing the earth apart and triggering new explosions of combustible gas. Fire burst outward together with acrid smoke and fragments of rock, turning the battlefield into a true hell.
Victory had been achieved, and the awareness of it throbbed in the young man’s temples. Hiccup had managed to defeat the queen of dragons, acting in perfect unity with Toothless as a single being. The threat to Berk and the entire archipelago had finally vanished, and the long war had come to an end. Yet now it seemed that the price of this triumph had proven unbearably high for one small Viking.
Toothless was flying after him, desperately trying to catch up to his rider in this abyss of fire. The Night Fury surged forward, ignoring the flames, but the distance between them was shrinking far too slowly. Whirlwinds of scorching air threw off his flight path, preventing the dragon from making the decisive dash. Hiccup saw his loyal friend stretching out his claws and darting through the smoke, trying to dive through the flames toward him.
At some point, the young man realized that his chances of survival had nearly vanished. He saw fear in the dragon’s eyes and felt the heat beginning to burn his skin even through his armor. Despite the horror, Hiccup did not close his eyes, continuing to fight the torrents of wind until the very last moment. He gave his friend a faint smile, accepting the inevitable, and barely audibly whispered, "So this is my end..."
He was only fifteen years old, and the awareness of his own mortality felt surreal. A brief, almost bitter thought about the injustice of fate and the cruelty of the northern gods flashed through his mind.
"For what have you treated me this way?" passed through his thoughts as he looked up at the smoke-filled sky. He had only just begun to truly live, having finally understood who he really was.
Not long ago, he had been considered the weakest and most clumsy Viking on all of Berk, a burden to the great chief. Over the past few weeks, Hiccup had changed not only his own life, but the worldview of the entire tribe. The fall lasted only a few seconds, yet in his mind time stretched, turning moments into an endless eternity.
Hiccup was falling rapidly, and before his eyes, as if in slow motion, the events of the past weeks flashed by. He remembered that early morning when he had discovered the Night Fury he had shot down in the forest. The dragon lay bound and helpless, but Hiccup could not raise a knife against him, because in the frightened eyes of the beast he saw a reflection of himself. Instead of killing, he chose mercy, freed the captive, and later gave him a name — Toothless.
From that moment on, the familiar order of the young man’s life changed completely. Hiccup gradually earned the dragon’s trust, constructed a complex tail prosthetic for him, and spent all his free time in the ravine. At the same time, he became the best student in the combat arena while hiding from the tribe the truth about his friendship with their sworn enemy. Secret training sessions with Toothless made him stronger, yet he felt unbearably lonely, unable to open up to his father.
Soon their secret was discovered by Astrid, who intended to immediately report everything to the chief. To convince her otherwise, Hiccup took a desperate step and showed her the world from a bird’s-eye view. During that romantic journey, they discovered the true reason for the raids — the enormous Red Death that terrorized the other dragons. When they landed, Astrid kissed him for the first time, acknowledging that he had been right, and Hiccup returned her feelings. Toothless, as if understanding the importance of the moment, nudged them into a secluded crevice, where something more happened between the teenagers, marking for Hiccup the end of childhood.
However, triumph turned into catastrophe when Stoick learned about his son’s bond with the dragon and captured Toothless in order to find the nest. In that difficult moment, it was Astrid who helped Hiccup regain his composure and gather a team of young Vikings. Mounting dragons in the arena, the youths set out to help the adults, who had proven powerless before the might of the queen of dragons. In the heat of battle, Stoick finally understood his son and acknowledged his mistakes when he saw Hiccup selflessly defending the tribe.
For the first time, true understanding and mutual forgiveness arose between father and son. Hiccup had just earned the long-awaited respect of the chief and had become a true hero in the eyes of all of Berk. And now, having achieved everything he had dreamed of, he was falling directly into the epicenter of a fiery vortex. He had managed to change the history of his people and taste love, yet fate seemed determined to take everything back in a single instant.
The flames rose higher and higher, and the unbearable heat was already burning his skin through the flight suit. Hiccup clenched his teeth tightly, trying to hold back a cry of despair and pain from the overwhelming helplessness. Until the very end he did not want to accept his death, but in the thick smoke and falling rocks he could see no path to salvation. Strength was leaving his body, giving way only to resignation before the inevitable finale.
Hiccup awoke in absolute emptiness and did not immediately understand where he was. He opened his eyes, but there was neither the familiar sky of Berk, nor the suffocating smoke from the blaze, nor fragments of rock around him. He was surrounded only by a deaf, dense darkness, devoid of any landmarks or sounds. The young man cautiously rose to his feet, feeling a solid surface beneath him, although the ground itself remained invisible. Despite the complete absence of light, he clearly saw his hands and feet, which seemed utterly impossible in such surroundings. The first timid thought that he might still be alive, for some reason, did not bring him the expected relief or joy.
Recovering slightly, he began to look around in search of his loyal friend. Fear for the dragon quickly pushed aside thoughts of his own safety, and Hiccup shouted out.
"Toothless! Brother, where are you? Can you hear me?" he called, hoping to hear a familiar growl in response.
His voice sounded strange and muffled, as if the sound waves instantly dissolved into the space around him, meeting neither walls nor ground. He took several uncertain steps forward, trying to find at least some kind of path in this endless gloom.
In the distance, a faint point of light suddenly flickered, resembling a lone distant star in the night sky. Almost at the same time, he heard the familiar, drawn-out roar of a Night Fury, filled with тревога. Hiccup flinched in surprise and, without hesitation, rushed toward the sound. He desperately hoped to see ahead the familiar dark silhouette with outstretched wings, which had always been a symbol of salvation for him. He continued to call the dragon as he ran, shouting his name again and again.
However, no matter how much effort he made, the distance to the goal did not decrease at all. The dragon’s roar gradually faded, replaced by a crushing silence, and the light ahead began to grow brighter and wider. Soon the dim spark turned into a blinding radiance, filling all the visible space before him. Hiccup was forced to stop, as the sudden flash painfully struck his eyes. He could not remain on his feet and fell to his knees, instinctively covering his face with his hand to shield himself from the unbearable glare.
After several long seconds, the young man found the strength to rise, though dark spots still floated before his eyes. Squinting and overcoming the stinging pain, he tried to discern the source of this incredible glow. There was no material figure before him, no familiar face, no outlines of a cave. Only endless, pure light pulsed in the void, consuming everything else around it.
"Who are you?" Hiccup asked, trying to keep his voice from trembling. "Or what are you?"
"I am God," came the answer from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Hiccup frowned, staring into the blinding radiance that seemed to be studying him in return. After everything he had endured on Berk, it was difficult to surprise him, but this situation went beyond any imagination.
"Which one exactly? Thor? Odin? Tyr?" he asked, trying to hide his growing nervous tension behind his usual irony.
"Neither one nor the other. Your Scandinavian gods are merely the product of human imagination, legends born from attempts to explain the world. I am the true God," the voice replied calmly and majestically, and from its vibration it seemed as though the space itself trembled.
Hiccup gave a bitter smile, though inside everything tightened with fear and the awareness of the irreversibility of what had happened.
"In that case, you are a cruel God. I do not know your real name, but you certainly are not merciful, if you took my life at the very moment when I had finally achieved something and found my place."
In response, a quiet, almost sympathetic laugh was heard in the void, slightly softening the tense atmosphere.
"You have not yet truly gained anything, Hiccup. Your path was only beginning, and you had barely touched what you were meant to experience."
"All the more so," the young man remarked dryly, defensively crossing his arms over his chest. "I did not have much to begin with: no mother, no real friends until recently, no respect from my father. And just when things were starting to improve, you simply cut the thread. Why did you take my life?" Hiccup wanted to cry. But he held on.
The divine voice continued, its tone steady and unshakable, devoid of anger or condemnation.
"You accomplished a great deed, Hiccup Haddock. You saved Berk from certain destruction and managed to befriend dragons — among the most remarkable of my creations, whom humans had only exterminated for centuries."
Hiccup exhaled heavily, feeling his anger give way to draining exhaustion.
"Thank you for at least noticing my heroism," he replied with a hint of sarcasm. "But what use is that to me here, in this darkness?"
"As a reward for your unusual mind, your pure heart, and your courage, I grant you another life, my extraordinary creation," the voice solemnly proclaimed. "And in this new life, you will be able to receive everything you have ever desired and everything you have ever dared to dream of."
Hiccup instantly became wary, sensing the catch he had grown accustomed to over years among harsh Vikings. He narrowed his eyes, trying to discern something behind the veil of light.
"What exactly does 'everything' mean?" he asked, expecting an explanation. "Every gift has its price, and I want to know what this second life will cost me."
"You do not need to give me anything in return," the voice responded gently, and in its sound there was almost parental warmth.
"You are my creation, and I simply grant you what you have earned. In the new life, you will have a true, loving family, the one you always dreamed of. By your side there will be a loyal and beautiful wife, and your dragon, your sworn brother Toothless, will surely return to you. I will personally see to that."
At the mention of Toothless, Hiccup flinched, and everything else faded into the background. He stepped forward sharply, trying to discern in the radiance at least some hint of his friend’s presence.
"Where is Toothless?" he asked in a breaking voice. "What happened to him? Did he… also die?"
A short, heavy pause hung in the space before God answered.
"Yes, he perished saving you. But for me, death is not an end, but only the beginning of another path. You will meet again, Hiccup, and this time your bond will be even stronger. I give you my word."
The young man clenched his fists tightly, not knowing whether to cry from grief or rejoice at the promise of reunion. The light around him remained steady and unmoving, but the inner tension that had tormented him since the fall began to gradually subside. He felt that this being was not lying, although the scale of the promises still frightened him with its grandeur.
"But you will receive not only a family and a dragon," God continued, and His voice sounded more solemn and commanding. "You will have loyal friends, ready to follow you into fire, and the sincere respect of your people. A crown will rest upon your head, and you will become what you did not have time to become in your previous short life. Legends will be composed about you, songs will be sung, history will be written, for you will be both Terrible to your enemies and Great to your subjects."
Hiccup remained silent for several long seconds, trying to comprehend the weight of this fate. The thought of power and a crown frightened him, for he had always considered himself merely an "extra" Viking, but the hope of seeing Toothless again outweighed any doubts. He wanted to ask something, to clarify the details of his "resurrection," but the space around him began to change.
"And now wake up, boy," God said, and there was no room for objection in that command.
The light around him suddenly flared with incredible force, becoming absolutely unbearable, and then everything instantly disappeared. The sensation of solid ground beneath his feet vanished, and Hiccup felt himself falling into a deep, dreamless sleep, beyond which a completely new morning awaited him.
Hiccup did not immediately understand where he was or what exactly he was feeling. His consciousness was pierced by a sharp, throbbing pain that made him want to scream, but his muscles seemed unwilling to obey him. Almost at the same time, чужие images began to flare in his mind, not belonging to his past life on Berk. Massive stone walls of Winterfell flashed before his eyes, he felt the icy breath of the northern wind, and in his thoughts a name clearly surfaced — Jon Snow.
These images overlapped one another, as if another life was being forcibly woven into his mind. He saw the face of a red-haired young man named Robb Stark, remembered exhausting sword training in the castle yard and long rides on horseback. At the edge of his consciousness flickered the angry, hostile gaze of a woman named Catelyn Stark and the calm, stern face of Eddard Stark. Hiccup did not have time to comprehend this torrent of information, understanding only one thing: these were real memories of another person.
In the next moment, he abruptly opened his eyes, and reality crashed down upon him with all its weight.
"Ahh! What is happening?! Where am I?!" his voice sounded unusually hoarse and far too loud in the silence of the room.
He immediately tried to sit up in the bed, but the sudden movement caused another wave of nausea. His head spun so violently that everything went dark before his eyes for a moment, and he nearly collapsed back onto the pillows.
"My God, my head hurts so much..." he blurted out, gripping his temples tightly with his palms.
Hiccup froze for several seconds, focusing on his breathing to calm the trembling in his hands and regain his orientation in space. He felt soft furs beneath him and a heavy blanket, and the air smelled of fireplace smoke and old wood. Gradually, his vision cleared, allowing him to carefully examine the place where he had found himself.
The room turned out to be quite spacious, with rough gray stone walls and heavy curtains on the windows. Massive wooden furniture and the absence of the familiar household items of the Vikings of Berk confirmed his worst fears. This was definitely not his home, and certainly not his small room in the chief’s hut. Everything around him looked more solid, colder, and чужим, completely unlike the familiar architecture of his tribe.
The чужие memories surged over him again, but now they began to line up in a more logical and understandable sequence. He remembered that here he was called a bastard and bore the surname Snow, which was given to those born out of wedlock in the North. Shared jokes with Robb surfaced in his memory, along with the ringing laughter of his younger sister, Arya. Hiccup realized with horror and astonishment that all these images now belonged to him, because he was inside this boy’s body.
Behind the door, hurried footsteps and ringing, anxious voices suddenly broke the silence of the chamber.
"He woke up! Jon, Jon has come to his senses!" a girl standing in the corridor shouted loudly.
The door burst open with a bang, and a little girl of about eight years old ran inside. She had the elongated face typical of northerners, attentive gray eyes, and chestnut hair that escaped from beneath a ribbon. She rushed to the bed and, without waiting for a response, tightly hugged the young man.
"Jon, you finally woke up! We were so worried about you!" she exclaimed joyfully, pressing herself against him.
Hiccup froze at first, not knowing how to react to such a burst of sincerity. Through the hazy stream of newly acquired memories, he recognized her — it was Arya Stark. In this strange new life, she was his younger sister, and her warmth made him finally believe in the reality of what was happening. He looked at her, trying to reconcile in his mind two worlds: the one where he had just fallen into the flames of the Red Death, and this one, where a living and happy child was hugging him.
"Can you hear me? How do you feel?" Arya continued to bombard him with questions, peering straight into his face.
He remained silent for several seconds, desperately trying to gather his thoughts and not reveal his confusion. In his head there was still the roar of the recent battle and the solemn words of God, but the surrounding environment — cold stone walls and heavy furs — demanded his attention.
"Jon, why are you silent? Did you lose the power of speech from the blow?" the girl asked with slight suspicion, frowning.
"No, my head is just still heavy," he replied, trying to give his voice firmness.
He slowly and cautiously freed himself from her embrace, placing his hands on the edge of the bed to find support. His head still spun unpleasantly, and dark spots floated before his eyes, but he clearly understood: he was alive, and this place was definitely not Berk. Hiccup tried to stand, feeling an unfamiliar heaviness in his muscles and an unusual height.
Rising to his feet, he first looked at his hands and involuntarily shuddered in amazement. These were not his hands: the skin was slightly darker, without the familiar scatter of freckles, and the fingers seemed longer and much stronger than before. He ran his palm over his head and discovered that his hair had become thick, coarse, and noticeably grown out. His legs obeyed poorly, his knee treacherously trembled, and he had to clutch the back of the bed with a death grip to avoid falling to the floor.
"Jon, are you unwell? You’re pale as a sheet. Maybe I should call Maester Luwin after all?" Arya anxiously took him by the elbow, ready to run for help at any moment.
"No, no need for the maester, I just haven’t fully come to my senses yet," he replied, trying to speak as calmly as possible, though his own voice sounded foreign to him. The words came with difficulty; his tongue felt numb and unwilling to obey its new master. "It’s all right, little sister Arya," he awkwardly added, trying to sound friendly.
The girl froze and looked at him in surprise, tilting her head to the side.
"You called me ‘little sister Arya,’" she noted with a slight, almost mischievous smile. "Usually you just call me by name or tease me, and now suddenly such politeness."
"Yes, little sister," he repeated quietly, not understanding himself why that word felt the most right at that moment. He simply wanted to feel some kind of connection to this new reality.
Hiccup slowly raised his left hand and carefully touched his face, tracing the contours of his nose and the line of his cheekbones. The sensations beneath his fingers were completely different: his facial features had become straighter, sharper, and more clearly defined. He noticed a small mirror in a massive frame in the corner of the room and, taking a few uncertain steps, approached it. The reflection made him freeze in place from shock. Before him stood not the skinny youth with freckles, uneven teeth, and bright green eyes whom he had been used to seeing in the reflection all his conscious life.
In the mirror, a completely different person was looking back at him, someone whose appearance was steeped in the harshness of these lands. The young man’s face was long, like Arya’s, his nose perfectly straight, and his eyes had taken on a deep gray shade. His thick chestnut hair had grown noticeably darker, losing its familiar red tint, and his build seemed sturdier and taller than before. Despite the чуждость of it all, this face now belonged to him. It was the face of Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell.
"My head… it’s still spinning," he murmured barely audibly, continuing to study his new face and trying to merge two images into a single whole.
His voice had changed too, becoming slightly lower and deeper, which made the situation feel even stranger. Arya, who had been watching his odd behavior, grew visibly nervous and took a step toward the door.
"Jon, you don’t look like yourself. I’m still going to call Maester Luwin," she said firmly. "Don’t go anywhere and wait here, I’ll be quick!" The girl rushed out of the room without waiting for his answer, and her footsteps quickly faded down the long stone corridor.
Left completely alone, Hiccup slowly returned to the bed and heavily sat down on the edge of the mattress. He wrapped his hands around his head again, trying to calm the pulsing pain and bring his chaotic thoughts into some kind of order. Memories of the last battle, of loyal Toothless, and the majestic voice of God intertwined bizarrely with images of Winterfell. Before his eyes stood the training yard and the суровое northern sky, which he now remembered as clearly as the cliffs of Berk.
He took a deep, measured breath, trying to still the tremor in his fingers and finally accept the reality of what was happening. This was not a dream, delirium, or a hallucination of a dying brain in the flames of the Red Death. God had kept His word, and Hiccup had truly been granted the promised second life in this cold yet majestic land. Now he had to do more than simply survive—he had to understand how to use this gift and what role he was destined to play in this world under the name Jon Snow.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Hiccup tried with all his strength to gather his scattered thoughts into one. At first, the images in his head seemed like chaotic flashes, but after a few minutes the memories began to arrange themselves into a clearer picture. He distinctly remembered who he had been in his past life. His name was Hiccup the Horrendous Haddock the Third, and he was the only son of the mighty chief of the island of Berk.
For a long time, his tribesmen considered him weak, strange, and a completely worthless Viking. Many of his peers avoided him, and his father for a long time had been ashamed of such an heir, not knowing how to instill in him a love for battle. However, despite all their disagreements, Stoick the Vast loved his son, and Hiccup loved him in return. He had been the most awkward and ill-suited warrior of his generation, fitting not at all into the northern idea of strength.
It was precisely this “awkward” youth who in the end changed the centuries-old history of his people, making peace with dragons and saving the tribe from destruction. He paid for that triumph with his own life, and now that past seemed distant, like a misty shore beyond the sea. Nevertheless, the feelings and experience of his former years were still a part of his being. Now, however, he would have to try on a completely different role.
In this world, he had become Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell and the acknowledged son of Lord Eddard Stark. Lord Stark had five legitimate children: three sons and two daughters, with whom Jon had grown up side by side. However, Lady Catelyn Stark, the lord’s wife, treated him with pointed холодность. She never hid her displeasure at the bastard’s presence in the family castle, seeing in him a living reminder of her husband’s infidelity.
"Looks like I’ll never have a mother—neither in that life nor in this one," he muttered quietly, looking at his new palms. Despite the hostility of the lady of the castle, Jon had warm and trusting relationships with his brothers and sisters. He sincerely loved Robb, Arya, Bran, and little Rickon, and this attachment was an important part of his new identity. Hiccup would have to accept these feelings as his own in order to truly settle into Winterfell.
Gradually, the events that had preceded his awakening in this room returned to his memory as well. During a training duel, Theon Greyjoy, Lord Stark’s ward, had struck him too hard on the head with a wooden sword. The injury had turned out to be more serious than those around him expected, and the young man had lost consciousness for several hours. Apparently, it was at that moment that the mysterious transition took place—the death of one hero and the awakening of another in a new body.
Arya ran back into the room again, out of breath from her quick sprint, but clearly pleased with herself.
"Jon, Jon, I brought Maester Luwin!" she blurted out, quickly stepping aside to clear the way.
After her came the maester—an elderly man with a wise, calm face and a heavy metal chain around his neck, symbolizing his knowledge. He внимательно looked the young man over, professionally assessing his condition: from the color of his skin to the firmness of his gaze. Silence immediately settled in the room, broken only by Arya’s heavy breathing.
"Arya, thank you for your help," Hiccup said, trying to keep himself confident, though the maester’s presence stirred his curiosity.
"Are you truly all right, Jon?" Maester Luwin asked, stepping closer and gesturing for the young man to remain where he was. "We were seriously concerned for your health, because you did not regain consciousness for a long time after that unfortunate blow. Robb could not find a place for himself from worry and nearly fought with Theon Greyjoy. We would very much prefer no new conflicts in the castle, since Greyjoy is an important hostage, and the obedience of the Iron Islands depends on his safety."
"Everything is fine, Maester Luwin. I feel much better," Hiccup replied. He осторожно rose to his feet, checking whether the dizziness would return, and once he was sure of his stability, he added, "May I go now? I can’t wait to get some fresh air."
The maester, however, shook his head disapprovingly and held him by the shoulder.
"I would strongly advise you to rest for at least a couple more hours. The blow was truly severe. I will go to Lord Eddard at once and inform him that his son has come to his senses."
Luwin lingered for another moment, making sure the young man stood firmly on his feet, and only then left the room, his long robes rustling.
Almost immediately after he left, Bran and little Rickon appeared in the doorway, clearly having been waiting outside.
"Jon, did you really wake up?" Bran asked, carefully stepping closer to the bed.
He looked genuinely worried, but because of his age he tried to keep a serious expression, imitating adults. Rickon, meanwhile, stood silently behind him, gripping the edge of the heavy oak door with both hands and staring wide-eyed at his older brother.
"Yes, guys, I’m fine, don’t worry," Hiccup replied, feeling warmth spread inside him. It was still unfamiliar to hear their voices and see these faces, but the memories of his new life surging through him suggested that everything was going the way it should. He looked at them and saw not чужие children from a fairy tale, but his real family, for whom he was ready to do someting.
A few minutes later, Robb entered the chambers. He moved quickly and decisively, but at the same time tried not to show excessive anxiety in front of the younger ones. Stopping by the bed, he carefully examined Jon, as if looking for visible signs of injury. Relief could be read in his eyes, which he tried to hide behind a mask of calmness.
"Hello, brother. How are you?" asked Robb, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder.
The word "brother" resonated in Hiccup's soul with an unexpected warmth. Once, living on Berk, he had secretly dreamed of brothers or sisters — of someone who would be there not out of a sense of duty, but by the call of blood or heart. Now this dream had become his new daily reality.
"Everything is fine, brother," Hiccup replied, meeting the gaze of Robb's blue eyes directly.
It was unusual for him to feel such sincere support from a peer, because on Berk he was more often avoided. Robb, noticing his attentive gaze, frowned slightly, continuing his questioning.
"Is your head splitting? Maester Luwin said the blow was very nasty."
"No, it's already much better," Hiccup replied, trying to speak cheerfully so as not to make his family worry.
Robb chuckled understandingly and shook his head, recalling the recent clash in the training yard. His fists involuntarily clenched when he spoke about the culprit of the incident.
"I almost killed Theon on the spot," he admitted. "Next time that Greyjoy will be twice as careful before swinging a sword."
Hiccup fell silent for a moment, considering his answer and listening to his new sensations. He understood that Theon was a complex personality in this house, and unnecessary conflicts would not benefit anyone right now.
"It's not worth arguing over," he objected softly, chuckling slightly. "He is still our father's ward, not an enemy. It's all in the past, and as you can see, I am in one piece."
Robb scoffed, clearly not fully sharing this peacefulness, but did not argue with his recovering brother. He adjusted the fur cloak on his shoulders and cast a short glance towards the door.
"If he strikes like that again, I swear I will deal with him personally, regardless of his status," he cut in.
Hiccup only nodded silently, understanding that Robb's loyalty was not an empty phrase. In this room with stone walls, everything seemed surprisingly real, tangible, and alive. He felt himself gradually accepting this reality: now he was not just a stranger from another world, but a part of this family, albeit under a different name.
"Are you not hungry?" asked Robb, carefully watching as his brother tried to finally come to his senses.
Hiccup listened to his sensations and suddenly felt an acute, almost painful hunger. His body insistently demanded food, as if it were the final confirmation that he was truly alive, and everything happening was not a pre-death vision.
"Yes, I would eat," he replied, trying to stay calm. "It would be very nice to have a bite."
"It will be right up!" Arya shouted brightly and, without waiting for orders from her elders, flew out of the room like a bullet. Everyone in Winterfell knew her lively temper, and the girl often got what she wanted from the servants much faster than anyone else. Robb only shook his head understandingly, watching her go, but did not stop her.
After some time, a servant girl entered the chambers, carrying a heavy wooden tray in her hands. On it lay freshly baked bread, still steaming, large slices of hard cheese, and smoked sausage smelling of spices. The girl carefully placed the food on the table, cast a short curious glance at Jon, and bowed quietly before leaving. Arya received the tray with such an important air, as if she herself had participated in preparing this meal.
Hiccup moved to the table and began to eat, trying not to pounce on it too greedily. The food was simple, rough in the Northern way, but surprisingly hearty and tasty. With every swallowed bite, he felt his strength returning and his mind becoming clearer. The new body was gradually accepting his consciousness, as if finally recognizing him as its sole master.
When he set the empty plate aside, Arya spoke up again, this time a little more seriously.
"I already managed to tell Father that you woke up. He will come to visit you soon," she informed him, trying to speak casually, although excitement still slipped through her voice.
Hiccup nodded silently, feeling a light, drawing tension brewing in his chest.
"Thank you for warning me," he replied, deep in his thoughts.
The upcoming meeting with Lord Eddard Stark now took on a completely different meaning for him. He understood that this stern man was his only protector, and his entire future in Winterfell would depend on their conversation. However, Lord Eddard was not his father. Hiccup's father was and would remain Chief Stoick the Vast.
After eating, Hiccup sat in silence for a while longer, giving his body a chance to fully recover. The dizziness had almost completely passed, and the recent weakness was replaced by an invigorating confidence. He knew that a conversation with Lord Eddard Stark was inevitable, and decided not to wait for an official summons. Hiccup stood up and independently headed for the solar — the room where the lord usually handled his affairs and received reports.
Along the way, he tried to keep his back straight and walk with a measured, confident stride. The young man did not want the servants or guards to notice even the slightest trace of his recent ailment in him. Approaching the massive oak door, he froze for a moment, gathering his courage, and then knocked briefly and clearly.
"Come in," a calm, deep voice sounded from behind the door.
Inside it was unusually bright: through the tall, narrow windows, the cold Northern light penetrated the room, reflecting off the gray stones. Lord Eddard stood by a massive table cluttered with scrolls and maps, but, as soon as he saw the person who entered, he immediately set his affairs aside. His gaze, piercing and serious, devoid of any irritation, carefully studied the young man's face.
"Maester Luwin and Arya informed me that you had come to your senses," Eddard spoke, stepping out from behind the table. "How do you really feel?"
"Much better, my lord," Hiccup replied, trying to make his voice sound firm and respectful. "My head no longer hurts, and I considered it my duty to come personally and report that I am alright."
Eddard nodded, continuing to silently peer into his son's facial features for a few seconds, as if trying to find some changes in him.
"The blow was indeed strong, and Theon clearly miscalculated his strength in the heat of training," he said, and steel notes could be heard in his voice. "Robb almost started a fight because of it, but I will not tolerate discord under my own roof. Such incidents must not be repeated."
Hiccup calmly withstood this heavy gaze, feeling his former prudence waking up inside him.
"It was just an accident, a normal risk in the training yard," he replied. "I hold no grudge against him and I do not want unnecessary quarrels to arise because of this incident."
Hiccup understood that right now it was more important for him to show Lord Stark his restraint and maturity, rather than a childish resentment towards the offender.
Lord Stark softened barely noticeably, and something akin to approval flashed in the corners of his eyes.
"It seems you are beginning to grow up faster than I expected," he said quietly after a short pause. "Go, but be more careful in weapon classes from now on."
Hiccup nodded briefly and walked out, realizing that this short conversation had become his first small step towards gaining trust in this new and harsh world.