The Minds of Men

Hello again. Feel free to criticize me for ignoring my English paper and other In-Progress stories to write something new- AGAIN. Don't worry, however, I'm really not going to drag on this time. Gets my knickers in a twist too.

Anyway, these drabbles were originally posted on a Lord of the Rings Fanfiction website, but I decided to use them for my own Merlinian purposes! ^U^ There are one hundred listed for the chosen post, so this story will end up with 100 drabbles/chapters, and however many words decide to pop out of my nice jacky brain. First drabble attempts- YAY.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my MAYND.

1. Fire

Arthur howls like a wounded animal when Merlin burns.

There are people everywhere, holding him, restrainging him, caging him. He pulls and pushes and thrashes, lashing out at his captors as his eyes hold on the gangly figure tied away in the flames, roped to the wood, skin red and black and smoking and dying, God he's dying, and silent. Merlin is never silent. But the graps of his enemies are firm, locked with resolve, emotionless acceptance. Arthur does not give up, doesn't let them think that they've broken him. He fights, screaming and raging and calling out the man's name because that's his manservant in the pyre and he'll be damned if he dies.

Somewhere Guinevere is sobbing, held back but forced to watch, restrained as he is, and Arthur knows because he can hear it- the horrible, gut-wrenching sounds that no human should ever be able to make. He can't see Gaius because his eyes are only for Merlin, but Arthur can feel him there, watching the closest thing he had to a son burn alive. The knights are locked away, but he can hear them pounding and tearing beneath his feet, an onslaught against Camelot's own bars of the dungeons below, kidnapped in their own home.

Somewhere above Morgana is smirking, crown perched ominously on her head, and she's laughing. It fills Arthur with unspeakable rage, homicidal anger, and he wants nothing more than to rip her ebony head from her shoulders with his bare hands and throw it into the unyielding, terrible flames. She's a traitor, invader, murderer.

Arthur pitches himself forward as Merlin's neckerchief burns away into nothing- like his skin, his limbs, his face, gone gone gone- because that's Merlin's neckerchief, and something in its release, in its taking from this world, says goodbye. Merlin hasn't screamed once, but his eyes are locked with his king's, and they shriek with pain and I'm sorryes and Arthur, and Arthur's yell don't go don't go don't go!

The fire rages and swallows the warlock whole. Silencesilencesilence.

Arthur cries.

Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy, but you love me right? Review me maybe? ;)