The living room, which moments ago had been a sanctuary of shared understanding and budding friendship, had transformed into a diplomatic dead zone. The air was thick with tension, a silent, three-way standoff between human bureaucracy, baffled hosts, and two very large, very unhappy dragons.
Agent Smith sat on the armchair, a leather portfolio clutched in her lap like a shield. Her posture was ramrod straight, a stark contrast to the comfortable, relaxed forms of Toothless and Stormfly who had previously occupied that same space. Astrid and I sat in the edges of the sofa next to her, a united front of weary disbelief. And opposite of her, flanking the entrance to the living room, stood our draconic guardians.
Their playful mood had evaporated, replaced by a cold, watchful stillness. Toothless stood tall, his frame a towering silhouette of protective aggression. His arms were crossed over his powerful chest, his green eyes narrowed into slits, fixed unblinkingly on Agent Smith. A low, almost subsonic growl rumbled continuously in his chest, a sound that was less a noise and more a physical vibration that you could feel in your teeth. Stormfly stood beside him, a mirror of his hostility. Her anxiety had been replaced by a fierce loyalty; her head was high, the elegant crown of spines around her face flared slightly, and her taloned hands were clenched into fists at her sides. They were a united wall of intimidation, and Agent Smith was feeling every ounce of it.
"As I was saying," Smith began, her voice a fraction too high, her eyes refusing to meet the piercing gazes of the dragons, "there has been a development regarding your participation in the program, Mr. Haddock."
"A development," I repeated, my voice flat. "The last 'development' involved a tidal wave in my bathroom and a tripling of my weekly fish expenditure. You'll forgive me if I don't break out the party hats just yet."
Astrid leaned forward. "With all due respect, Agent, Hiccup's situation is already… complex. He has two exchange partners living in a house designed for one human. What could possibly be so important that it required an in-person visit on a Saturday?"
Agent Smith's brittle smile tightened. She cleared her throat, opened her portfolio, and slid out a tablet, placing it on the coffee table between us. "Due to your unprecedented success in the acclimation and psychological stabilization of Subject 734," she said, reciting the line as if reading from a script, "the agency has determined that you are uniquely qualified to handle a more… challenging case. As such, we have decided to assign you an additional exchange partner."
The silence that followed her words was so absolute, so profound, that I could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. The low growl from Toothless's chest hitched for a second before deepening into a sound that was significantly more menacing.
I stared at her, certain I had misheard. "An additional… partner?" I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. "You want to put another one in here? Are you insane? This is a three-bedroom suburban house, not a dimensional refugee camp!"
"The decision is a reflection of the agency's utmost confidence in your abilities, Mr. Haddock," she continued, her eyes glued to the tablet, refusing to acknowledge the absurdity of the situation.
"Confidence in my abilities?" I shot back, my voice rising. "Confidence in my ability to do what, exactly? Run a fish cannery out of my kitchen? Replace my plumbing on a bi-weekly basis? My workshop has become a communal nap area, my bed is a territorial conquest, and my grocery budget now requires advanced calculus to manage. I am at capacity, Agent. Physically, financially, and emotionally."
"He's right," Astrid cut in, her tone sharp as steel. "This is completely unreasonable. You can't just keep dropping mythical creatures on his doorstep like they're unexpected Amazon packages. He's an engineer, not a dragon whisperer."
"The subject in question requires a specific skill set," Smith pressed on, finally looking up. Her gaze was pleading, the professional mask slipping to reveal a woman who was clearly under a great deal of stress. "One that, frankly, none of our other hosts possess. He's… difficult."
She tapped the screen of the tablet, and a holographic image shimmered to life above it. It depicted a creature of immense size and regal bearing. He was bipedal, like Toothless and Stormfly, but his anatomy was starkly different. He possessed two pairs of wings, a larger upper set and a smaller, more dexterous lower pair, all of which were currently folded tightly against his powerful back. His hide was a mottled pattern of deep blues and regal golds, and his head was framed by a crown of sharp, elegant horns. But the most striking feature was his posture. He stood with an unwavering, ramrod-straight dignity, his head held high, his expression one of calm, unyielding arrogance.
"Subject 812," Smith said, her voice dropping. "Species designation: Stormcutter. He's been with us for two weeks, housed in a temporary containment facility. And he has been completely uncooperative."
I stared at the image. The creature was magnificent, but the sheer scale was terrifying. "How… how big is he?" I asked, a sense of dread pooling in my gut.
Agent Smith winced. "Current measurements place him at approximately twelve feet and two inches in height."
Twelve feet. He wouldn't even be able to stand up straight in my living room. "No," I said, shaking my head. "Absolutely not. Where would he even sleep? In the yard? What do I feed him? A whole cow?"
"He hasn't been aggressive," Smith said quickly, sensing she was losing the battle. "The issue is he refuses to engage. He seems to understand everything we say. He simply… dismisses us. The agency psychologists believe his pride is the main barrier. He needs a host who can earn his respect, not demand his compliance. After reviewing your file—specifically, the innovative prosthetic you designed for Subject 734—the board concluded your ability to solve a physical problem is precisely the approach that might work."
It was a clever pitch, a direct appeal to the very core of my identity. And a part of me, the stupid, stubborn, engineering part, was already intrigued. But the rest of me was screaming in protest.
"Even if I could, Agent, the logistics are impossible," I insisted, gesturing around the room. "My house can't handle a creature of that size. The cost…"
"The agency is prepared to facilitate the transition," she said, cutting me off. She swiped the tablet, and a new file appeared, filled with spreadsheets and budget lines. "Your stipend would be tripled, effective immediately. We would also provide a retroactive 'hardship and home renovation' bonus." She named a number that made my eyes widen slightly. "Furthermore, we are prepared to dispatch a special projects team to make any necessary modifications. They can reinforce flooring, widen doorways, raise ceilings… whatever is required."
She then turned her attention, and her brittle smile, to Astrid. "And Ms. Hofferson, this brings us to your situation. We appreciate your flexibility during this transitional period. And I'm pleased to report that we have found a solution to your housing problem."
Astrid blinked, caught off guard. "A solution?"
"Indeed," Smith said with an air of finality. "We've secured a property for you. A small, detached house on the west side of town. It's been retrofitted with reinforced flooring and has a sizable, fenced-in backyard. It should be more than suitable for you and Stormfly to live together, comfortably. The lease is signed; you can move in as early as next week."
Her words dropped into the room like stones into a silent pond. The implication was immediate, and devastating. Soon, there won't be a need for Stormfly to remain in Hiccup's house anymore.
Stormfly, who had been watching the exchange with intelligent, understanding eyes, reacted instantly. Her head snapped up, the relaxed posture she'd held even in her quiet vigilance vanishing completely. She let out a short, sharp, distressed chirp. It wasn't a sound of aggression; it was a sound of pure panic. Her gaze darted from Smith to Astrid, then to Toothless, her head shaking in a clear, frantic gesture of negation. Her entire body language screamed, No! Not again!
Toothless sensed her distress immediately. His growl, which had been a low, steady rumble of displeasure, spiked into a chest-rattling snarl. He took a half-step forward, placing his body partially in front of Stormfly, his hand landing on her shoulder in a gesture that was both comforting and fiercely protective. He was no longer just a jealous guardian of his territory, he was a friend defending his family from being torn apart.
"Agent, you can't be serious," Astrid said, her voice dangerously low. "You've seen the change in her. You read the reports. Her psychological stability is directly linked to her reunion with Toothless. She was withering away in my apartment. You want to separate them again, now that she's finally happy?"
"The new residence isn't on another continent, Ms. Hofferson," Smith replied, her tone becoming patronizingly calm. "It's a fifteen-minute drive from here. You'll be able to arrange visits, I'm sure. But the long-term objective of the program has always been the successful integration of one host and one partner. The current situation, while therapeutically beneficial in the short term, is an operational anomaly. We need to correct it and get back to protocol."
"Protocol?" I scoffed, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. "These aren't lab rats you can just move from one cage to another, Smith. They're intelligent, emotional beings. They have friendships. They have attachments. Are you telling me that 'protocol' doesn't have a contingency for that?"
"The protocol is designed to provide the best possible outcome for the majority of participants," she said stiffly, her professional mask firmly back in place. She was done negotiating. The decisions had been made.
She stood up, gathering her things. "The Stormcutter is being prepped for transport now. He'll be arriving tomorrow morning. All the relevant files have been transferred to your account, Mr. Haddock. Diet, biology, observed behaviors… it's all in there. I recommend you read it thoroughly." She gave a jerky nod. "The construction team and the moving company will be in contact with both of you to schedule appointments. If that's all, I should be going."
She fled, not waiting for a reply. The front door clicked shut, leaving a silence that was heavier and more suffocating than before.
For a long moment, nobody moved. The room was a tableau of despair and simmering rage. Stormfly had buried her face in Toothless's side, her shoulders trembling. Toothless held her close, his head bowed protectively over hers, his eyes still fixed on the front door with a look of murderous intent.
The external threat was gone, replaced by two internal ones: an intruder was coming, and a friend was being taken away.
Slowly, the rumbling in Toothless's chest subsided, but the tension did not leave him. He eventually took a step back from Stormfly, who looked up at him with miserable, pleading eyes. He then turned to me. He took two slow, deliberate steps forward, his claws clicking softly on the hardwood floor. He stopped directly in front of my seat, forcing me to tilt my head back to meet his gaze.
The protective anger was gone from his eyes. It had been replaced by something far more complex, a toxic cocktail of emotions I could read all too clearly. He looked at me, then his eyes flicked towards the front door—the direction the new arrival would be coming from. Then they flicked to Stormfly, who was now being comforted by a distraught Astrid. He looked back at me, and a low, possessive rumble, different from his warning growl, started deep in his chest.
It was a look of pure, undiluted jealousy, now compounded by a feeling of bitter betrayal. His glare was a clear, unambiguous statement: This is my house. You are bringing a rival into my territory. And you are letting them take my only friend away.
As I stared up into those luminous green eyes, I knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that tomorrow.
was going to be a very, very long day.