The Beauty and the Beast

The room was small but somewhat cosy. Francis’ eyes slipped around the place, taking it all in.



He’d always thought his home was the greatest in the country, but he had to admit, that if this place ever became available, he would be first in line to buy it. It wasn’t fancy; the fireplace seemed kind of old, the pictures on the walls were scary to look at seeing as how they were all old faces of long gone persons, and the furniture seemed antique. But it was all held in this middle-aged style down to the last detail, and it just fulfilled the idea of having being brought back in time. Somehow Francis found that calming.



His body was still hurting, but for every sip he took of the drink he’d been offered, he felt better. He could move his legs and arms now. The door crept open and Tino stepped inside with a nervous smile on his lips.



“How are you feeling?”



“Good,” Francis smiled back at him, placing the drink back down onto the bedside table. “You’ve been very kind to me, but I feel I’m strong enough to leave now.” Tino nodded as if he agreed, but something in his eyes told Francis that the other wasn’t completely confirming his wish of leaving.



“Yes, yes, I see…” the smaller man mumbled. “Uhm, there’s just one little problem, sir.”



“Problem?” Francis raised his brows as he swung his feet from the bed down onto the floor. His legs ached, but he ignored it. “What problem?”



“You haven’t paid my master for his kindness.”



“Paid?” Francis choke out the word, and over his eyes fell a shadow of annoyance. “Now I am to pay him money? That wasn’t part of the deal.”



“There never really has been any deal,” Tino reminded him, “my master found you dying in your crashed car.” Francis rolled with his eyes.



“Fine, he’ll get the money. It’s not like I don’t have them.”



“You’re misunderstanding, I’m afraid.” Tino pushed the door a little more open. “My master isn’t in the need of money. What can be bought he already has.”



“Then what?” Francis wrinkled his nose. “Then what does he want?”



“I think he’ll be better at explaining it himself.” Tino stepped aside, allowing Francis to look out of the opening. There were no lights in the hallway crossing the room outside the door, but he could sense the present of someone out there. He narrowed his gaze in order to see more clearly. Yes, there was something. A shadow of a rather large animal slowly showing itself, moving from the dark towards the lightened up room.



“…what’s that?” Francis gulped the spit from his mouth, leaving his tongue dry. “What’s that?”



“Sir, I present to you my master, Arthur Kirkland.”



Said Arthur stepped into the room with his right foot. But it wasn’t really a foot, it was more like a misshaped, hairy look-a-like. The left foot quickly followed. Then the rest of Arthur slipped into the light. Francis raised his gaze to take in the man’s appearance.



The man in front of him was more animal than human. He looked like a bear standing on two legs, swaying in the air as he tried to avoid falling. He was naked. He did not need clothes. Not with all that white hair covering him like a giant coat. However, though he had the body of a bear, his face were more shaped like a bird’s, with a pointy nose and sad, green eyes partly hidden behind heavy locks of hair. From his head a pair of swirled goat horn pointed out beneath his small, flat ears. As the man opened his mouth to speak, a pair of sharp teeth similar to a vampire’s showed themselves, and Francis gasped, a hand clasping itself over his mouth.



“Oh God,” he whispered, “oh God, I recognize those. You… You were the animal in the wood. You were the one who crossed the road, making me crash.”



“I…” The beast hesitated. It looked down, a sad smile crossing it’s stretched, pink lips. “I… I made you crash, yes indeed, I did that.” It nodded. Francis shook his head in disbelief, his eyes safely closed, as he couldn’t take looking at the beast.



“Don’t eat me. I beg of you, don’t eat me!”



“I…” Hesitation once again. “I won’t eat you,” it then promised in its deep, hoarse voice. “I don’t like the taste of wine. Your blood tastes like French wine. It’s annoying. I’ve had a headache the whole morning because of it.”



“My blood?!” Francis screamed. “When did you-!”



“As I ripped you apart.” In the beast’s eyes there were no mercy to find. It smiled. It seemed humoured.



“You… You did this to me?” Francis gestured down himself. He was still covered in bandages soaking wet with blood. Tears pressed themselves to his eyes. “Why would you do such?”



“Why would you bring such negativity into my property?”



“Your property?”



“The wood. I own it all.” It moved forward with slow steps. Francis hadn’t noticed before now, but as the beast moved, from its back a pair of ruined wings dropped white feathers along the way as if they were steadily crying. It looked unnatural, the whole animal-mix. He pressed himself back up against the head of the bed, trying to come further away from the beast. “You came driving into my property, bad, bad thoughts in your head. I can hear it. I can hear what people think. And I heard you. You were thinking about your family. Family. Family’s good, that you do know, don’t you?” Francis nodded.



“Yes, yes of course.”



“But you… You’re not a good father, are you? You’re not appreciating your family…” The beast’s eyes looked sad. Fuzzy eyebrows were wrinkled, making them even gloomier to gaze at. “I… I heard it all. How you bring back gifts for one son, and leave the other with none. That’s not good. That’s not good at all.” Its voice was held at one tone, frightening cold. Francis swallowed hard once again, but there was no spit to swallow. He choked.



“Please, I… I’m normally very kind to both of them!” Francis tried defending himself. “I am!”



“No…” The beast shook its head. “No, you’re not. I can see it in your eyes. I can see it all.” The beast closed its eyes. “You’re a bad, bad man.”



“There’s reasons for it,” Francis whispered, desperate to make the beast like him. His gaze flickered around the room, to Tino. But the man just shrugged his shoulders. He wasn’t going to step in and help him. Francis whimpered. “I… I’ve had a tough past. My wife died giving birth to-“



“Past is past, now is now, future is future. You’ll pay me now. For being kind to you, even though you’re a bad man. You’ll pay me now, yes, I have a good payment in mind, a brilliant one.” Francis couldn’t believe it. He had no saying in what was going on. He had been hurt, put down, and now he was to pay for that treatment?



“What do you want from me?” His voice shook in dread as he asked. The beast smiled.



“I want you.”



*



The castle was enormous. It was like they’ve gone back into the middle-aged with its great forts, and Alfred could imagine a princess living in that castle.



“It’s here?” he asked Berwald who simply nodded. Not the talk-active type.



“Hold on.” He reached out a hand. Alfred looked at it with concern.



“Hey, sorry… I don’t really swing… that… way.” Berwald rolled his eyes.



“Magic. Magic castle. Take hand, or you won’t be led in.” Alfred raised his brows. Magic castle? Yeah, right. However, he did not want to start an argument, the man was probably some crazy loner living out in the wood alone. Not murder, not rapist, just nuts. Besides, he wanted to get out of the rain as soon as possible, so he grabbed onto Berwald’s hand and allowed the man to lead him in through the gate.



Then the weirdest thing happened.



Just as they’ve passed through the entrance, it stopped raining. The sky was clear and light blue, the ground wasn’t covered in mud or leaves. Instead there were suddenly flowers everywhere; especially red roses covered the ground leading up to the castle. Alfred gawked.



“What the hell?”



“Magic.” Alfred looked at Berwald with his eyes wide opened.



“Is this… a dream?” He kind of hoped.



“No.”



“Fucking shit! I haven’t even had any alcohol today!” Alfred’s gaze slipped around the place. No. No, this was too weird. He turned around. At the other side of the gate there was… nothing? As far as his gaze could reach, there were just white. The colour white. “…What the fuck?”



“Don’t go there,” Berwald said with a warning voice. “It’s nothing and everything mixed up at the same time. Anything can happen if you walk out in that.”



“But-“



“Berry!” Another blonde man suddenly showed up in the castle’s doorway. He was, however, smaller and more cute-looking than Berwald. And he looked nervous. “Berry, it’s horrible! Master Kirkland, he… I think he might kill him!”



“Berry?” Alfred wrinkled his brows, but he was offered no time for questions. Berwald leapt from his side towards the man, his eyes filled with worry.



“Where?”



“Room 293.” Berwald nodded as he disappeared inside. The smaller man shook his head, he looked like he was about to cry.



“Oh no, oh no.”



“Hey!” Alfred gritted his teeth together. What the hell was going on? It was all too weird! “Hey, you! Don’t you walk away too,” he yelled towards the man, walking towards him. “I need some explanation.” The man looked up. His eyes widened.



“You,” he whispered.



“Me?”



“Sir!” Alfred had hardly reached the entrance ‘fore the man fell to his knees, looking up at him with shiny eyes. “Sir, you’re here! You’re finally here to save us all!”



“I’m what?” Alfred took a step back, but the man followed him, still on his knees.



“We’ve waited so long for you,” he whispered, lowering his forehead to the ground. “I bid you welcome home, my king.”