#there is a bad end to my au that I’m calling the loveless lamb au where I hurt the cat even more

[raybuggybug]

Mentally slamming my fist on a table

THAT CAT WANTS TO KISS THAT LAMB SO BAD RAAAAAAWHHH

[p-artsypants]

Boy Toy- Act I

At the age of 21, Princess Astrid lawfully has to pick a husband. But when the perfect groom is now where to be found, she requests the toymaker to create one for her. It's safe to say that everyone in the kingdom is a little concerned. (Pinocchio!AU I guess?)

I’m still working on Arcadia or Bust, but I have this weird AU already finished from like forever ago. I know I’ve been doing a lot of AUs lately, but I just really love them. 

AO3 | FF.net

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“No! I won’t go! You can’t make me!” She screamed as she threw herself on the bed. The princess kicked her perfect dainty legs into the mattress.

“It’s rude to skip out on a party,” her beloved servant, Tuff, stated.

“Especially your birthday party,” his twin sister, Ruff, replied.

Astrid looked up from where she had her face buried in her pillow. “But there’s going to be so many people that I’m going to have to shake hands with. And you know Uncle is going to stuff me into a dress.” She hid her face again. “I’m not doing it!”

The two servants looked at each other and sighed. “Why do we do this?” Tuff asked. “You whine and complain, and then you know your uncle is going to make you go anyway, even if he has to carry you in.”

Astrid rolled over on her back. “I don’t like your attitude. I took you off the streets, and I’ll put you back on them.”

Ruff smiled at the princess, looking in her closet for the right dress. “You can, but you won’t.”

Tuff sat on the mattress casually. “Yeah, then who would you throw your axe at? One of the other servants?”

Astrid mumbled. “They always flinch and get hit…”

“See? You’ll just have to tolerate us.”

Astrid sneered. “Sometimes I really hate you two.” She was lying of course, but she needed to keep her servants in their place somehow.

The trio was sequestered in the East wing, what she had dubbed as her living quarters. Thick sheets covered the windows, broadswords and heavy axes hung on the walls. The furniture was in disarray as sometimes her anger would be too much for her and she would cleave a bedpost in two. Only her most trusted servants were allowed to enter, a pair of twins that she had personally hired from off the street with no training whatsoever.

Ruff pulled out a pink taffeta dress with pink-feathered plumes sticking off the back. “Here’s the dress Dagur got you last year for your anniversary. You could wear this!”

“I thought I told you to burn that abomination,” the princess hissed.

Ruff laughed as she stuck the garment in the back of the closet. She and Tuff enjoyed teasing the princess like this. Despite how bratty her replies were, they knew that Astrid was truly happy when people interacted with her instead of just blindly following every order.

She was just bad at showing it.

Just then there was a knock at her bedroom door. Tuff opened it and greeted the nameless servant on the other side.

“His Majesty would like to talk to the Princess in his study,” the shy girl spoke.   

“Here we go!” Astrid flung herself off the bed and snagged her favorite battle-axe from where it was lodged in the fine cherry wall. It was her security blanket, if only the twins knew it.

She was perfect. She had to be. The whole world was watching her, pandering to her, and adoring her. Though that adoration ran dry when she turned away. In truth, she would sooner push someone down in the mud to keep her boots clean, than to offer a hand to help them up. She viewed the world over her nose, and demanded perfection.

Astrid, the princess of Berk.

A perfect bitch.

She stomped down the hall and threw the door open to her uncle’s study. “I have arrived, oh great Stoick! Here at your beck and call!”

Stoick, the Tsar of Berk, was a stark contrast to his ‘niece’. A huge man, built like a mountain, but had the soul of a lamb. He was a quiet man, but lived to serve the people. His crimson beard, rosy cheeks, and cauliflower nose only made him look kinder. No Tsar was perfect, but if the populace of Berk had been polled, his numbers were stellar.

So how could such a kind and gentle man be related to Astrid? Well, Uncle wasn’t exactly a truth. When he had fostered her from her old kingdom, she had refused to call him ‘father’ like every councilman had asked. Stoick had suggested ‘Uncle’ instead, and she begrudgingly agreed. Even then, her past traumas had put a bleak disposition on the Princess the likes no one had seen before. Regardless, he loved her dearly, as he had no children of his own.

A parentless child, and a heirless King. Naturally, things worked out.

The monarch looked up at his niece; her blonde hair disheveled, tattered clothes, and that blasted axe.

“The party is in three hours. I expect you to be ready by then.”  

“Well, you should lower your expectations.”

Oh how she vexed him. “Astrid, please, you’re turning 21. There’s going to be a lot of people here to see you.”

She huffed, “I don’t want to see them.”

“I know. I know.” Stoick stood from behind his desk and dwarfed the princess. “But tonight is very special. Tonight, you’ll be picking a husband.”

Her axe fell to the ground with a clatter. “Excuse you! I will do no such thing!”

“Yes, you will. I’ve told you this several times!”

“When? I don’t remember!”

“That’s because you never pay attention, child!” He accused. “Everyone in the line to the throne has to be married or engaged by their 21st birthday.”

“I didn’t think that applied to me!”

“I have no heirs, Astrid. Who did you think was going to take on the crown after me?”

She crossed her arms. “I think we should just become a democracy.”

Her uncle laughed and turned his back on her. “Those never work. You give people power and they vote in idiots.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t distract me from what I called you in here for.”

She grunted and dropped in a chair. “I hate this. I hate everything about my life.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You don’t know how I feel.”

Being the ruler of a country was hard. But being a father was exhausting, Stoick was often at a loss at how to handle Astrid. As she got older, she just seemed to grow farther and farther away.

“You’re right my dear. Maybe I don’t. But I went through some difficulties when I married your aunt. A loveless marriage that ended before it even got started. God bless her soul. That’s not what I wanted for you. Which is why I mentioned it so many times before. I want you to find love. You deserve it.”

The blonde relaxed her rigid stance. “I appreciate the sentiment, Uncle…but no one would ever love me.”

“What about Dagur?”

She snatched her axe up from the ground and pointed the blade at the monarch. “Say his name again, and you’ll wake up bald!” She shrieked.

“I know, bad break up. Forget I said anything.”

Astrid twirled her weapon and rested it against the chair side.

“As for the dress…”

Astrid groaned as she slumped in her chair, her chin resting on her chest.

Stoick stepped over to the chestnut cabinet in the corner of the room. To any other person, it would look out of place and full of junk. But to the royals, the wood panels held magic. He pulled out a leather garment bag, and draped it over the desk. Astrid sat up in interest.

“I was waiting to give you this until you got older and could fit in it.”

The princess unzipped it herself. The dress inside was black with gold trim outlining the off the shoulder neckline. More gold flowers were embroidered into the bodice of the dress. Finally, the skirt melted from black to scarlet. The colors of Berk’s flag.

Astrid stared at the dress.

“It was your mother’s. I gave it to her as a gift when our kingdoms first united.”

“Yes. I’ll wear it.” And she re-zipped the bag.

If there was something he could depend on from his niece, it was her fierce loyalty to her family.

The few hours remaining before the party were quiet. Astrid had retreated to her room, and was no doubt sitting in quiet agony while Ruff did her hair.

She stood rigidly, faking her smiles to all that graced her presence. Her arms were folded gently in front of her, occasionally squeezing tightly, as the men poured into the room. They all glanced at her with knowing looks, all thinking the same thing:

“She’s going to pick me.”

The crown jewels sat on her milky collarbone, as there was no way to avoid that tradition. Along with the tiara and red sash, everything screamed untouchable royal. Despite the quaint smile and flirtatious eyes.

She really did make herself sick sometimes.

“My dear, why aren’t you mingling with the young gentlemen?” Stoick touched her shoulder, noticing not a word had come out of her bright red lips.

“Uncle…” Astrid spoke quietly, trying not to be heard, “because I don’t want to talk to the young gentlemen…if you could call them that…”

“Now Astrid, don’t be rude. I’m sure there’s a nice, handsome, quiet guy that you could take out on special occasions. Go on, be cordial.”

Rich, beautiful, eligible men as far as the eye could see. All she had to do was point, and the man that would inevitably serve her for the rest of her life would be chosen. And yet, as she danced around the room, he was not there. The man of her dreams, the man that didn’t fake smile around her, the man that could see through her act, the man that could love her for who she was; he didn’t exist. Astrid was no fool. She knew of her cruelty, she knew what was being said about her.

And yet, how could she change if there was no one to love her?

“Well, hello my darling,” A smooth voice spoke. Astrid’s foul mood plummeted into the floor. The man speaking was a tall man, beefy in build. His broad chin was dotted with the faint hairs of an attempted beard. His hair, copper, was parted in the middle, and curled around his ears. His deep forest green eyes, the same eyes she used to gaze into for hours, had not changed, but great amusement reflected back.

She didn’t even try to hide her distaste. She growled, “Dagur B. Zerker. For what God forbidden reason are you here? To steal my food?”

He laughed. “No, not quite, you see. Your uncle invited me. He hoped that we would get back together.”

The princess blinked once and then shrieked across the ballroom. “UNCLE!!!”

Most attendees jumped at the shout and scrambled to move out of the war zone.

The ruler had just gotten away from her, when she stomped back up to him and stuck her finger in his face. “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!”

Stoick rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I was hoping you would reconsider courting him again.”

She shook her head. “I’m surprised at you uncle. I loved him, but he got Mala, one of my ladies in waiting, pregnant, and you think that’s a reason for another chance?”

Dagur snorted behind her. “She had a miscarriage, though.”

Astrid riled up in anger, before turning around and decking him in the mouth. “You ass!”

Startled gasps went up in the crowd as the gentry began whispering and staring.

Stoick grabbed his niece. “Enough! Behave yourself, woman!”

“He started it! I’ll kill him! That son of a bitch!”

Dagur, after he had been punched, made the wise decision to run out the room.

“Now,” Stoick stated, “I need to do damage control. Can you handle socializing for a little while without starting another fight?”

Astrid looked away in shame, but nodded solemnly.

“Good, I’ll be back in a bit.”

The crowd parted like the red sea, and Astrid was left alone. And for once in her spoiled life, she felt like she had nothing. She always had the best, the newest, the most expensive. But it wasn’t enough. She needed more and more. But in this moment, she realized it would never be enough. There was no happiness in material goods or false words.

Then, from across the room, she spotted Gobber, the Toymaker. One of the best in the world. Every year, he took a request from Astrid for her ideal custom present. No other like it was to be made.

This was Astrid’s favorite part of her birthday every year. Not just because the present was quality and made exactly they way she wanted, but because Gobber took pride in his work, and he made sure Astrid knew it. One year, the girl asked for a racing car, one that she could drive inside the palace. Gobber came multiple times in the process of building to have Astrid sit in a chair and pretend she was the one driving. Gobber was the father she never had. She never confessed to anyone, but she was always excited to see the man.

The toymaker came to her and respectfully bowed. “Your highness, happiest of birthdays to you. Long live the Princess.”

“Gobber,” She smiled pleasantly.

“I won’t beat around the bush, my dear, what do you wish me to make? I know you have it all thought out. Just like every year.” He smiled, his lead tooth glimmering in the light.

Truth be told, Astrid had forgotten to think about her present. She’d been so preoccupied with worrying about a groom…she chuckled to herself, and without thinking, blurted her personal joke out loud.

“Make me a husband.”

The toymaker laughed, but then grew silent when he saw the Princess was not joking.

“A-Are you sure?”

“Yes, Gobber, I am.”

“…Anything particular you want me to consider? Looks?”

“Just make him perfect.”

She was the Princess, and she always got what she wanted.  This was no exception. Gobber took a shaky breath, “I’ll do my best, my lady…but--…”

“Your best is all I ask,” She affirmed. “I wouldn’t want anything else.”

The toymaker shrugged. “Okay. I guess I have no choice.”

“Take your time on this, I am not in a hurry to get married, but lawfully I must wed by the end of the year.”

“Three days, my lady. As tradition, you will have your gift in three days.”

“Lovely. I will see you in three days then.”

“Yes, Princess Astrid.” The toymaker bowed low and exited the ballroom. The rest of the room could only look in shock and horror at what had just happened.

“I do believe this solves everything.” The Princess smirked.

Out of nowhere, the two twin servants burst into delighted laughter. They approached from both sides. “That was priceless!”

“What a joke!”

“Did you see how everyone reacted?”

“Excellent!”

Astrid glanced between the two. “I’m serious, you know.” She raised an eyebrow.

The laughter waned. “Wait, really? You’re going to marry…a toy?”

“Most likely. But I haven’t any stretch of the imagination what he’s planning on doing. If it turns out much different then I expect, then I will make the toy another servant…or maybe a moving target, if I’m so inclined.”

The siblings shared a worried look. It was a well-known fact that the Princess morbidly stunk at human interaction, but to go as far as to marry a machine? That was an act of desperation. “If you say so.” Ruff shrugged.