He felt, rather than heard, his name waking him from death, sleep, whatever stupor he had been submerged in.
Merlin, the voice said. Scattered thoughts skittered around like buzzflies. Was that his name? Did he have a name? The voice was still speaking and the words were jumbled, nonsense sounds but he felt them. Warm. An image of red came into his mind. Was it blood? No, a cloth.
Merlin, it said again. His name. A flash of gold now. There was a feeling of belonging, something clicking into place as if he'd somehow dropped a part of himself but it had found its way back into him. He felt a stirring feeling and suddenly became aware of his own being, which he had forgotten after spending so long as a disembodied whisper in another creature's mind. He was a part of this creature but he was something, too. Someone.
He heard a pop and everything he knew exploded in light and sound. No longer was he staring through layers of refracted glass. For the briefest of moments he saw someone standing before him and then the light was too much, too blinding, and then there was a ripping. It wasn't painful, just... strange. He was being removed from himself, taken from an inextricably tangled mesh of Merlin and someone other that wasn't other. He felt the other being torn along with him, two strands no longer knotted but still entwined.
Everything was confusing. He heard other voices now and it seemed like he'd been slammed down from the sky, still without pain even as he felt himself being compacted into a smaller and smaller space. Where the other- Emrys, he remembered now- had taken up a majority of the vessel they'd been rendered from, their places were reversed. Emrys was a spark somewhere inside of him but he felt whole.
Sensation returned to him for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. He could feel grass under his bare skin and something soft on top of him. There was warmth and a crackling sound somewhere to his right. He felt air coming in and out of his lungs and the strange stiffness of his own body. Things hurt- a soreness in his shoulder, a pulsing in his thigh. There was a small rock under his arm, pressing against his bone, but as much as he focused his thoughts he couldn't move. He had spent so long without command of himself that he forgot how. Even his eyelids felt heavy, like weights against his face.
The air grew colder and with surprise he realized it was nighttime. Old knowledge was returning to him. He knew the voice from before was Arthur, and while he could not look he listened and learned that Guinevere, Percival, Leon, and his mother were there also. Memories were emerging from the recesses of his mind, never gone but undecipherable before.
Emrys?
The voice rang out in his mind and he felt a twinge of pain. He recognized Aithusa but something deep inside him stretched towards that voice, yearning for it.
I don't know, he replied. There was a great sadness from the dragon, a keen sense of loss. I don't think so, but he's still... here. Still a part of me.
I can feel him still, Aithusa said softly. Not in pain like you were. He's just... sleeping.
Aithusa, thank you. For everything. And I'm sorry. His words felt small. She had cared for him for years, nursed him back to health and shown him love and kindness despite the death of her mistress at his hands. And how had he repaid her?
Emrys is still young. His time on Earth will come again, but your time is not yet complete. Arthur will need your help. He always has.
Thank you, he said again as he drifted off to sleep.
When he next awoke he felt disoriented. His surroundings had changed; the air was more subtle, not as fresh but tinged with the scents of herbs and medicine. His companions had gone. He was lying on a bed and suddenly he realized he was back in his old room, in the chambers he shared with Gaius. For a split second he wondered if everything had been a dream, and with all of his strength he cracked his eyelids. There was a blurry form sitting at his bedside.
"Gaius?" he croaked.
"Oh dear," was the response, and more feminine than expected.
"Alice," he acknowledged tiredly, closing his eyes again.
"I'm sorry, Merlin," she said, and he heard her leaning over him, checking for his pulse.
"You're... physician?" His words were raspy, like he had dust in his throat. He'd forgotten the sound of his own voice.
"They had somebody else appointed temporarily but I requested an audience with the king. I spent a long time working with Gaius and he agreed I was better qualified, especially now that I can use my magic. Thanks to you." She smoothed the blanket on top of him, and he felt her checking a bandage wrapped around his shoulder. He smelled a familiar poultice. "I hope you don't mind that I moved in here. I know this was where you lived with him."
"Better you than someone else." He was feeling a little stronger and found he could look around now, although it was still extraordinarily bright. "He really loved you."
"He loved you too, Merlin." He could see her face now. She was smiling warmly at him. "Now, how are you feeling?"
"Tired," he said, trying and failing to raise his head from the lumpy pillow. "Weak."
"It seems to me like you've been asleep for years. It's going to take some time to get your strength back. We can start with some light exercises tomorrow, but for now I think you should get some rest." She handed him a potion and he paused, remembering her mancorian penchant for poisoning. "It's just a sleeping draught Merlin, honestly."
"Old habits," he murmured sheepishly, downing it and drifting away before the taste had even left his tongue.