A TRICK OF THE LIGHT
Chapter Thirty Seven
"Any fool can know. The point is to understand."
(Albert Einstein)
-x0x-
Merlin was a dead weight in Gwaine's frozen arms but at least he was still conscious. The knight dragged him back to his feet, while Pest circled around the two of them as though singlehandedly trying to keep the snow at bay. Gwaine couldn't help wondering why the little wisp hadn't joined all the others in their vast, glowing enterprise. Such a small but valiant display of loyalty struck him as profoundly moving. He had mocked and berated the creature for days, yet Pest remained by his side – and that made him happy, even now.
Suddenly, he realised that Merlin was trying to get his attention. Hastily, he leaned in and brought his ear as close to the other man's mouth as he possibly could without losing his balance and tipping them over the edge of the parapet.
"Gwaine?" said Merlin hoarsely. "How did you find me?"
Ah. "Well now," Gwaine replied, turning so that Merlin could hear him too. "I was following Robin." True enough, and an easy start to the conversation. "Then he met you… and you both came up here, so naturally I was curious. Where is Robin, by the way?" He knew, of course. He had witnessed the uncanny transformation, open-mouthed. But somehow he wanted to hear it from Merlin's own lips – a proper confession – rather than startle him with the news that the knight was already privy to the most incredible secret that had ever been uncovered by anyone, anywhere, at any random point in the history of time itself.
Merlin raised a weary hand and pointed skywards. Every move was clearly an effort by now, but he refused to give in. "Defending Camelot. He's gathering the wisps. I'm trying to help him. Thinking good thoughts…"
"Good thoughts?" Distracted by the phrase, Gwaine tried to understand. "That's a bit airy-fairy, isn't it…? Oh, wait. I see. The wisps react to how we feel."
"Yes." Merlin's words were escaping from his lips like a series of tiny gasps, each with their own little cloud. "How we feel about Camelot. Help me," he pleaded. "I'm so tired."
Gwaine felt oddly troubled by this confession of weakness. Shouldn't a sorcerer be well-nigh invincible? Magic was more than just power, it seemed. Merlin's cheeks were whiter than the snow that whirled about him, and he looked like a wreck of his former self. Even their ill-advised trek hadn't drained him this much.
Shifting his grip, Gwaine planted his feet wide apart and glared up at the angry sky. He couldn't have felt more overwhelmed than he did right now, but he also recognised his fear for what it was – a deeply emotional response. I'm guessing I should keep that from our shining friends. Right, Pest? Don't want the whole spell to fall apart just because I'm shaking in my soggy boots and they can sense it.
The little wisp buzzed past his ear. In other words, stop thinking and get on with it, the knight translated with a sigh.
Emotion. More honest than words, but hard to control. Nevertheless, Gwaine was willing to give it a try. "I'll do anything to help Emrys," he said carefully to his friend. "I hope he knows that."
"He does." Merlin nodded. Then his eyes widened in panic. "I mean... I'm sure he does." It was painful to witness, but Gwaine held his tongue and pretended not to notice. There was a time and a place, he realised. His gut instinct told him firmly that this wasn't it; shouting to each other in the middle of a storm, on a narrow ledge, with the world tilting madly over their heads.
"Of course. He's a good man," the knight agreed. "Emrys. You know, for a sorcerer. I trust him completely, even if he isn't quite ready to trust me in return."
Merlin turned and stared at him, scrubbing away an icy tear from his watering eyes before it scored its way down his cheek. "What?"
"Trust. It goes both ways. But sometimes, a man has to make the first move and be patient. I get it." He gestured to the shimmering wisps, who had halted their progress. Half a shield, giving half the protection that Camelot sorely needed. "You need good thoughts? I've got one." His gaze was fixed on Merlin, dark and solemn. "Friendship. Nothing stronger."
Merlin swallowed. "Thank you, Gwaine," he murmured. Gwaine couldn't hear the words but he could read them on his best friend's lips as Merlin closed his eyes and turned his face upwards.
Is that how I do this? Gwaine wondered nervously. Copying Merlin, he tried to reach out for Robin with his mind – strained as hard as he could, until he felt like bursting – but it was rather like trying to locate a single bee in a mighty swarm, with a blindfold on and his ears plugged with rags. No doubt Merlin could use his magic to make and sustain a connection. But I'm just a man. And what do I have?
When he opened his eyes again, Pest was hovering right in front of him. Waiting for him to catch on, he realised, feeling quite foolish. "Good job one of us is clever," he muttered to the wisp, with a welcome burst of his usual self-deprecating humour.
He had been chatting to Pest since they met without thinking much about it, but suddenly, now that it mattered immensely, the notion felt so nonsensical that he simply couldn't imagine how to begin.
Pest flared urgently.
"I'm fine," he snapped. "Don't rush me."
The wisp moved even closer, filling his vision with a light so bright that he could no longer see past it to the world beyond. Instead of complaining, Gwaine recognised that Pest was trying to help him concentrate. Closing his eyes yet again, he took a deep, calming breath and let the feeling that he sought begin to take shape inside him. No words, no justification. Just a fiery little ball of pure emotion; friendship given form and strength to fight the darkness. Every loving deed, every kind look or generous word that he had ever received from Merlin, or Gwen, or Percival or any of the others made the feeling swell and grow until it filled him so completely that he could have wept with joy.
"Now," he cried, impassioned, and he tightened his hold on Merlin as he pushed the ball of emotion out to Pest, who rose into the sky with a flash of triumph. Gwaine watched him go, troubled by a strange sense of loss. He was shaking by this point, almost as hard as Merlin, and he knew the drug was leaving him. Around them both, the shield of wisps climbed higher, coming together at last above the citadel. Gwaine felt as though he could reach out and touch them. All he lacked was the energy to do it.
The roar of the wind was silenced and the air grew still around them. The flakes that were trapped within the cocoon paused in mid-air and then tumbled softly to the ground. Beyond the blazing shield, the mighty storm forgot itself entirely and began to change direction, veering away from the kingdom and into the wild lands beyond, losing strength and purpose as it drifted off course.
Gwaine shook his head. His ears were ringing. Beneath him, his legs folded without warning and he fell into the snow with Merlin sprawled on top of him. Thank goodness none of the other knights were there to witness his predicament.
"Sorry," breathed the young man.
"Don't be. I broke your fall; you're keeping me warm. That's…"
"…friendship," Merlin finished, reaching around for Gwaine's hand and squeezing it tightly.
They lay there without moving, entranced by the shining vista and the drifting flakes, so peaceful and pretty by now that Gwaine could hardly believe they had caused such torment.
Maybe this is it, he thought to himself. The perfect moment to confess what he had witnessed…
Then he heard it. Merlin was snoring. The sorcerer had fallen asleep.
