The Boy and the Beast: A Merthur Beauty and the Beast AU

Just Talk to Me

It was said in the beast's voice. Just his name. But he stopped in his tracks. It wasn't said angrily, or threateningly or even loudly. There wasn't even a growling edge to the word. He said it like someone would if they were talking in a normal conversation.

Like a human would.

Merlin heard the beast marching up the stairs. He wasn't even running, like the beast knew there was no hurry to get to him because Merlin would be there.

And be there he was.

Although Merlin couldn't see the beast because his back was to the staircase, he felt him reach the top of the stairs and continue walking down the hall, the footsteps getting louder and louder until they slowed down and stopped completely. Merlin felt like he turned into a statue. The castle was completely silent besides the sound of the beast's breathing and a swallow from Merlin. This quiet seemed to stretch out for nights and it was both relieving and frightening when the beast finally asked, "What are you doing?"

"Um, I wa-I was," Merlin stuttered, "I was just, um, going to bed."

"It's dawn."

"Well, my head still hurts so I was just going to rest some more."

"But you were running."

To that, Merlin had no reply.

"Were you somewhere you shouldn't have been?"

Merlin stiffened, but said nothing.

"The west wing, maybe."

The silence took over once again.

"Look at me when I speak to you."

Merlin hesitated, the beast's deep voice filling the air so much he felt his skull tense under the pressure, but he turned around and faced the beast.

For the third time in only a few minutes, silence fell over them.

"You were in the west wing." It wasn't delivered as an inquiry.

Merlin looked down, realized his mistake, then made himself look back into the blue eyes above him. The beast raised one of his bushy eyebrows slightly in amusement.

"Why?" The beast continued.

"Who is the boy in the painting?"

"I have many paintings."

"The one with the scratches on it. In the room with the rose."

Now Merlin was the one causing the silence.

"I'm the one asking the questions," he finally mumbled out.

"And I'm the one answering. Just with my own question."

The two stood, staring at each other, neither one knowing what to say.

"Who is he?" Merlin asked once more.

The beast looked away, down at the floor, and then, without warning, turned around and began rushing to the stairs.

Merlin watched a moment, then chased after him. He wanted answers. If he truly was going to spend the rest of his days here, he wanted to know just what kind of castle he was living in and who he was living with, because he was sure he knew who the boy in the painting was...he just wanted to hear it from the beast's mouth.

In a burst of confidence and desperation for answers he caught up with the beast at the top of the staircase and grabbed his blood red cape to get him to stop.

"Wait, please!" Merlin entreated, the beast's cape wrinkling in his fist.

The beast turned around and the force of it almost had Merlin releasing the clump of the cape he had in his hand, but he wasn't letting him go.