mOnStEr (LgBt+)

mOnStEr - fOuR

Grey's lips part on the name.

The whisper sounding like a prayer, "Albion."

"State your business," Albion orders, eyes narrowing.

Grey bites his lip.  He can't say the truth.  If this person were to know, he's sure he will never go back to the water.

He's a myth.

A legend.

But most importantly, he'd be a prize.

When no evident reply is put forth, Albion loses their patience.

The royal wraps their hand around Grey's neck and squeezes.

It's painful.

He struggles, the pressure against his gills too much.

"Don't you think this is too cowardly," Grey chokes, "Come on and face me like a man."

"My pronouns are they/them," Albion corrects.

Despite the position he's currently in, Grey corrects himself, "Come on and face me like a person!"

Grey notices the moment Albion is caught off guard as if they hadn't expect Grey to respond, much less amend his statement while in such a predicament.

Grey almost feels bad because he knows what it's like.

He knows how it feels to not be respected; for his existence to be taken like a joke.

But to have someone respect you, someone who could very well be the enemy, may mean everything.

He knows.

And he takes the opportunity to slip from Albion's weakened hold.

He scrambles away as he covers his neck with his clammy hand.  Grey frowns when he begins to feel the tell-tale signs of his gills trying to open.  He rubs at the skin making sure they don't.  

And he just knows there will be bruising later.

"I'd rather fight you than tell you," Grey continues, voice hoarse.

Albion takes it as a challenge, brandishing their sword and pointing it directly at Grey's chest.

"And I'd like to see you try."

They're both breathing harshly, tension rising in the air between them.

It's only a matter of time before someone makes a move, before someone strikes.

Grey should bite his tongue, he really should... but of course he doesn't, "You stole something from me."

Albion rolls their eyes at this, "What exactly?"

"Th-"

"Because I highly doubt that a lowly homeless creature like you would have something of value that I would ever want."

Grey glares, teeth gritting, "M-The pelt, you stole the pelt."

And Grey is grateful he catches himself from making a mistake, from exposing himself and his kind.

"I didn't steal anything from anyone, certainly not from the likes of you," Albion sneers.

This only infuriates the sea dwelling creature and he's about to retort when he notices something gleaming from the trees, something sharp and deadly racing toward them.

Without thinking, Grey wraps his hand around Albion's unsuspecting wrist and yanks them behind him.  And everything slows down as an arrow immediately lodges itself into Grey's chest.

Grey can't help but stare at the arrow poking out from his skin, the head stuck painfully inside.  He reaches out and his hand wraps around the stick, but he can't pull.  He can't yank it out.  Everything seems to catch up to him at once.

Albion is shocked as they stare, only to return to their senses when Grey collapses right in front of them.  

Grey falling, falling, falling as his body goes slack.  Quickly giving into shock.

With growing terror, Grey realizes that it hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts!

His vision swims and he thinks this is the end.  The pain is unbearable.

It's too much.

Albion grits their teeth as they barely manage to catch Grey, preventing him from falling face first and forcing the arrow even deeper.

"You saved me," Albion whispers.

Grey stares up at the royal, vision becoming blurry.

He agrees softly, "I saved you."

Gently, ever so gently, Albion lays Grey on the ground before turning to find who shot the arrow.

There's no one in sight and Albion takes the opportunity to shout for help.

"Hang on," they whisper, voice just on the edge of begging, "they're coming to help."

Grey nods and he tries to stay awake, to listen to the nervous ramble coming from the royal.  He vaguely remembers finding it cute, endearing even, before the world turns black.