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Summary
Merlin panicked, and in his panic, he forgot the dozen or so spells he’d learned to handle situations like this. Instead, he reached for his magic on instinct, lashing out with unshaped force; he reached for something, anything, anything at all, as long as it would help!
‘Anything’ answered in the form of Nimueh’s magic, blooming in his chest. The magic unfurled like a great flower, and its petals stretched out. Then the screams cut off, because the petals were sharp, and Merlin turned on his side and was thoroughly sick.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Or, Merlin struggles after killing Nimueh
NOTE: there is no non-con in this story, but there are bandits who make some threats that imply it
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