Cover art by Phoebe594, amazingly talented, amazingly patient, and amazingly able to understand my vague, uneducated, and rambling descriptions of what I see in my head for each of these.

Air

He couldn't breathe, before anything else. From the moment he saw the pyre, even before the torch appeared, Merlin couldn't breathe. Hundreds of nightmares of this, and he still couldn't breathe.

He didn't even notice he was tied to the stake until the ropes bit into his wrists as he doubled from lack of air. He tried to ground himself with that—the bite of rope, the warmth of blood, the solidity of wood—but he still couldn't quite breathe.

Arthur gave the signal and the cycle started over.

Even before smoke and ash hit his lungs, Merlin couldn't breathe.

So, here's another drabble series born from my NaNo adventures this year and inspired by 1917farmgirl (seriously, blame her; I was just gonna write a single drabble about Merlin's innate fear of fire, but no, we get this instead). Thanks, farmgirl, you are always an inspiration and an encouragement. Even when it ends with Merlin on a pyre.