A/N: Loosely inspired by Frank R. Stockton's The Griffin and the Minor Canon, a short story from Neil Gaiman's Unnatural Creatures, Stories selected by Neil Gaiman. You don't need to read the story to get the fic. Just putting it out there.
and angelique-aph Seychelles
He spent the last moments of his death lying on his stomach, eyes fixed upon the great stone griffin that has his exact likeness, his thoughts fixated on the minor canon that was the only good thing he had found in that miserable town, aside from the great statue that he had taken with him upon his final depart.
The autumnal equinox has long gone past and he had refused to eat anything, thinking that if he cannot have that man, then he cannot have anything else. He had sent the man back into that horrible town with the looming threat to the selfish cowards in there that if they did not treat the minor canon with reverence and honour, he shall return and exact his terrible vengeance.
An image of the minor canon smiling politely at him, the great-and the last of his kind-griffin dies.
Arthur opens his eyes and finds himself sighing, smoke hissing out of his snout when he snorts to himself.
Always the same dream and for some reason, he's a griffin, of all things.
He twists and turns around the corner of his cave, his tail absently pulling his hoard of gold and sapphires closer around himself, protective of his treasures even in the safety of his own domain.
He always had a throbbing feeling in the back of his mind that something will take them away, but he wasn't sure what or who.