CLOUDY WITH A CHANCE OF PROMISE

The snowflakes drifted inside from the hole, floating in the air quietly, coldly, and his eyes followed them, yarning for their touch in whispers that could be ended by the touch of a warm fist. The rubbish was piled in the middle of room, rubble and pieces of wood standing together amidst the scaffolding, where masters of masonry and woodworkers had been hard at their jobs until he sent them away.

Now, there was only the weight of the covers over his legs, the cloak over his shoulders, and the crown that fit snuggly atop of his head, the news that brought him here echoing in his ears even now, a touch of hope, the certainty that what he saw and heard could be destroyed just like those snowflakes. Just like he did every day since his youth.

"Sire, I must ask you to return to bed."

He raised his eyes to meet Gaius, his old friend and ally, a most valuable ally, one that had loyalty in his hopes as much as he had knowledge of the enemy. "Why?"

"Being exposed to this cold is not good for your wellbeing."

"I'm well Gaius, but lit a fire if you must."

His friend pursed his lips, but moved to do so, lighting the torches and braziers around the throne. Uther felt their warmth immediately, but Gaius didn't need to know that. In all these years, Gaius often was better not knowing things, his guilty was often exposed when doing just work, and Uther had learned to deal with it in his way.

"Lord Hector's actions were very fortunate to bring you back to us." Said the old man, and Uther waited, understanding there was more to come. "Indeed, it was a happy occasion, however, I'm afraid that as your physician I must recommend your return to bed and to your treatment."

"I'm well." Uther repeated, forcing the words through greeted teeth. "Lord Hector's actions were more than necessary Gaius, he was only telling me the truth."

"And what truth is that, my lord?"

Uther turned, fixating his gaze on the old man, just as the doors at the end banged open to let in his son. The boy had grown, he seemed taller, but the way he was running towards him made him look like an eager child.

"Father! You're off your bed!" He came short at the edge of the dais, seeming to remember himself before Gaius. The old man, sensing the mood, bowed to them and turned to leave, while Uther watched the changes in Arthur's face, the way his smile threatened to appear, only to be brushed aside a moment later, his steps hesitating between approaching him and standing still. When the doors closed, it was like a bubble had burst, allowing his son to come closer.

Uther allowed the hug, it felt good, a different warmth, one he might have felt long ago with Ygraine, but those days were gone and the world was too harsh a place to allow indulgence of this kind. "Father…"

"It is all right, my son." He mumbled, letting go. Arthur stepped back with eyes that were pooling with tears, a discouraging sight for what was to come. "Now stop that, these times will demand much of us, and you must steel yourself."

"What?" Arthur sniffled, mouthing the word, before repeating himself, the heaviness in his voice cleared away with a brush of his sleeve. Once the prince composed himself he looked around the throne room, seeming only now aware of it. "I would've expected you to be somewhere else father, this place is still being repaired."

"This throne is a symbol of power, my son, perhaps my presence in here will remind you of that."

"Father?"

"Lord Hector has informed me of the most grievous news regarding the state of this land." He picked the crumpled scroll from inside his tunic. "Sorcerers are roaming our lands, I've been told, magic is being practiced against the law on every corner of the kingdom."

His son shook his head. "We've been dealing with it father, w-we… we can't be everywhere at once, but I assure I'm doing my best." He paused. "Perhaps we should go somewhere else, enjoy your return to health? I'm sure we can have something made in the kitchens, your favourite…"

"King Bayard of Mercia writes to us." He interrupted, handing Arthur the scroll. "He says that an army of sorcerers has expelled Lot from Essetir and taken control of the land. Sorcerers, Arthur."

"T-this is a mistake, surely." Arthur said, reading the words and furrowing his brow.

"This army is said to be led by two sorceresses."

"Morgana."

"And Morgause." The king uttered, poison slipping from his tongue. "Do you understand the implications, Arthur?"

"This would explain why there are so many magic sightings in the land, why the druids are migrating."

Uther banged his fist impatiently, watching his son finally turn to him. "Morgana!"

A shadow passed by his son's eyes, vanishing in an instant. "Father, I understand that her betrayal…"

"It wasn't a betrayal! I was tempted to believe so, Arthur, but this is obviously not the case. It's all a machination by that whore, Morgause!"

"What?"

"She obviously has placed Morgana in an enchantment, she has obviously used her claws to tear her away from me and into her heretic ways! But I've seen the light, her tricks won't control me any longer! We shall bring her back!"

Arthur blinked, his confusion was clear through the haze that Uther felt was his vision. "Father, I know you want to believe that, but Morgana…"

"What?"

His son balked. "Morgana made her choices, I understand you don't want to see it, but she is a sorcerer, she chose magic, she…"

"Enough, I'll hear no more of it!" He motioned to the scroll still in his son's hands. "See to it that the council be ready by the morrow, I want us prepared for war immediately. The witch has struck against us, now she will see what her actions have wrought. I shall bring justice to her just as I have brought it to her kind!"

Arthur still didn't move, and Uther begun to grown impatient. It was like his son didn't understand the necessity right in front of him. He wasn't born when chaos ruled these lands, he wasn't there to understand that one had to attack, quick and swiftly, or else risk everything you ever had or loved being taken from you. He was still a boy, but he would learn, Uther would make sure of it.

"See to it, Prince Arthur."

"Yes, sire."

When the doors closed after his son's back, the king returned to his seat. The fires were diminishing, but he barely felt the cold or the silence, his eyes watched the snow drifting down into the chamber's floor, snow that so resembled ashes.

When he was a child, Arthur used to run into his father's arms without hesitation, eager, with the simple view of life that was granted to every child, until he was nothing but a bundle of giggles under that great man's eyes. As he grew though, something odd started to happen, something he didn't realize right away.

His time begun to grow busier. Men would come from all over the land, great minds that would teach him numbers, and letters and protocol. He would be taught of the New Religion, and its rituals, he rehearsed words and politics and he learned how to wage war, but his father's hugs were never there when he did something well, not as much as the ferule when he did something wrong. Still, he knew, always, without a doubt, that his father loved him and he loved his father with all his heart. Still, when his father broke from betrayal and defeat, Arthur felt a part of him breaking, and when the Prince Regent of Camelot returned from a mission to discover he was regent no more, the elation he felt was unlike anything else.

It had died very quickly, the moment he stood before Uther Pendragon and realized that holding his father was too much to ask.

Now, as he sat on the council, listening to latest reports, he could only idly ne aware of the discussion. His father sat at the head of the table, hunched over, his crown skewed, while Gaius and Lord Hector both flanked him, the later seeming happier than Arthur had ever seen him as he spoke of alliances and deals and promises. King Alined had already written demanding that Camelot answered the threat of magic, while the rest of the Five Kingdoms would surely follow and with the stroke of a quill, their armies were three times stronger and they didn't even know if Bayard would join the fight.

"We must also look to Amata." Lord Cygnus claimed. "They surely will want revenge for the death of their sovereign."

"A letter was already crafted and sent." His father explained. "Regardless of the answer, we will march."

"We need to be cautious." Arthur spoke up, daringly. "Perhaps sent a small score of our men to scout ahead, inform us of what is going on in Essetir. The knights of the Round Table would be more than ready for such mission."

Some heads nodded, Gaius included, and everyone looked at his father.

"They aren't knights." They were only words, but he might as well be feeling the sting in his hand, and there was no one to apply the salve.

As the talks of war moved to logistics, he could only sit there, enraptured in replaying a conversation in an abandoned chamber, her voice sounding as if she was in front of him again "I'm tired of this rotting country, those blind knights and the filthy laws."

By the time the meeting was done, Sir Leon had orders to start summons of men as soon as the snows begun to melt, and his uncle was the first to leave the chambers, Arthur lingered for a while, watching his father drinking from one of Gaius' potions, smacking his lips and grimacing, perhaps because of the taste.

"You have something to say?" Uther asked when they were alone and Arthur hesitated, the question changing as it left his lips.

"Perhaps we shouldn't take more men from the common folk, I already issued a command like that before, to call upon more would cause upheaval."

"And what use would the peace of a peasant be when the heretics drag him from his home for execution?"

That, Arthur found, he couldn't argue with. When superstition, heresy and evil took shape right over your borders, a king did his duty. "I still think you should allow my men to scout the territory."

"Your men, I've heard plenty about them."

"They helped me save Camelot and free you."

"The law is the law, Arthur, and a kingdom is only as strong as its rules." His father uttered, as if a prayer that would silence argument, but it failed to silence his thoughts as it always did.

Was this really what you wanted, Morgana? He asked no one. When she left him alone that night, he thought she would disappear, hoped she would be at peace, but instead her name returned with the promise of war and blood. He didn't think she would burn through the land like wildfire, forcing his hand into battle, but perhaps he was simply fooling himself.

She had, after all, helped an army take Camelot by storm, killing hundreds of innocent people. When she had the crown, she coldly executed peasant in the courtyard, shooting them with crossbows to force the hand of his knights and, beyond all that, he could only guess what other actions she might have taken against him and the kingdom. Perhaps he was blind as his father sounded when he spoke of rescuing Morgana, no doubt pushed forward by that ugly truth Arthur hadn't dared to ask about yet, or else risk knowing for sure the sins that might damn him.

It was his ugly secret after all, that he knew how she tasted, both her skin and the places between her legs. It was his shame that he knew the fierceness of her kiss and the comfort of their naked bodies under the furs. Swallowing a sudden urge to sob, Arthur forced his mind back to the present, cursing her name for it all.

He was so distracted he barely noticed Gaius until the man was standing in front of him. Startled, he barely had time to blink before the physician bowed respectfully. "Sire, I'm afraid I have something I must share with you in my chambers."

"What is it Gaius?" He asked wearily, brushing his gloved hands over his eyes. "This better be important."

"It's about the runemark, sire."

"The what?"

But Gaius simply looked at him, with those eyes that forced people to take him seriously even when he seemed to be speaking nonsense, and under all the troubles weighting him, Arthur found that one more wouldn't make a whole lot of difference.

When he entered Gaius' chambers he was still surprised to meet the number of people waiting for him. Merlin was there, pacing from one side to the other, while Gwen sat by the table, been handed a cup of something from Lancelot's hands.

"What are you all doing here?"

"Merlin told us this was important, and we're your friends." Gwen declared without hesitation, and when he looked to Lancelot the man grinned, but none of them had the soothing effect it could have.

"I've made an oath to see you safe, sire."

"Well, I'm not sure that is worth much since my father may see fit to revoke your titles, Sir Lancelot." He looked away, feeling ashamed that such news even had to be delivered, he didn't want to see what Lancelot thought of that. "My father has also seen fit to gather the army, we march when the spring comes."

They gasped, and he wondered if it was really all that surprising. The laws of Camelot and its safety were at stake.

"Arthur…"

"It's the right course of action." He cut through her saying. "We've seen what magic does, how destructive and corruptive it can be, to allow an army like that to exist, I don't even want to think about it. If my father hadn't done it, I would've taken measures myself. The knights of Camelot are what stands between a just and prosper land and chaos."

A heavy silence descended upon them, and Gwen was the one to break it, asking the question everyone wanted to ask. "What about Morgana? Arthur you're going to have to fight her."

He grimaced, walking around them to seat by the table, he could feel Gaius moving around the room but every other pair of eyes was on him. "My father believes that Morgana is under a spell, that she has been turned against her family."

"Do you really think that?" Merlin asked.

Arthur shrugged. "It doesn't matter what I think, I hope he is right, and we can bring her back, but I have my doubts."

"She and Morgause are smart and powerful, they will know we're coming."

Arthur nodded, leaning back, and releasing a sigh. "We will do our best Merlin, as always, Camelot's knights have prevailed against far worse odds. Back in the day my father was still able to rein in the chaos and I'm sure he can do it again. Now, Gaius, what is it you wanted to talk about?"

The old man dropped something at the table before Arthur could even think of waiting for an answer. It was a circle of clay with familiar patterns that he thought he wouldn't need to see again.

"This is a runemark, my lord."

"All right."

Gaius was still looking at him, and slowly, Arthur met his gaze, the old man's voice was heavy with intensity. "In times past, this mark aroused great fear. It was given to those found wanting by the court of the Disir."

"The Disir?" Asked Gwen.

"The highest court of the Old Religion. Three women were chosen at birth to be trained as seers and soothsayers. Their only task was to interpret the word of the Triple Goddess. When they sat in judgement, their word was final."

"Superstition." Arthur mumbled, weakly. "This Triple Goddess nonsense was only an excuse for bloodshed, this must be just sorcerers trying to make as afraid. I don't see why you think this is important."

"The Disir are quite real, my lord." Gaius said, pointing at the runemark. "This is the judgement of the gods against you."

He shook his head now, Gaius sounded too serious, it was too much. "This is nonsense…"

He looked around for support but everyone looked like he felt, even Lancelot seemed as if the sun had burned out all of the sudden as he looked between him and Merlin. Gaius kept talking,

"The Old Religion held that the runemark not only contained a man's guilt, but the path that the gods had chosen for him. That is why it is both a judgement and fate."

"I make my own path."

"Do you?" Gaius challenged, and Arthur almost could feel the strings pulling at him. "It is said that only the gods can alter a man's fate, and even then, only when he repents and appeases them."

"Gaius…"

"Morgana has turned against us." That was Merlin interrupting, leaning over the table. He was worried, Arthur saw right away, but Merlin was always worried, and what made him stop and listen was the pleading in his voice. "Arthur, I don't know what this means, but if Camelot is going to war, surely this doesn't help."

The logic was sound, and whatever it might mean, Arthur had seen plenty of things that made him wary in his short life, and the many times he thought his life would end had brought a lot of trust and respect for the people in the room. He looked to Merlin, the young man who had once taken poison for him, and asked, still looking him in the eye. "Gaius?"

"Merlin speaks the truth, whatever happens you don't want the Disir to be your enemy, Arthur."

He rose from his chair, something strange, familiar but ugly was squirming inside him, begging to be let out. "Why me?"

"What?"

"Why me? I'm not even the king, I don't make the decisions." He waved his hand outwards, feeling like hitting something. "My father was the one that went after their kind, so why isn't he been judged?"

He tried to seek some of the happiness that had washed over him when he run to meet his father upon his arrival, but there was only anger there. His worth was determined by the things he thought had been right, but apparently he was always wrong. In front of him, his peers were silent as he waited for an answer, something that made sense, because right then he felt nothing but the injustice of it all, how unfair it was to be blamed by things that were beyond his control. Weren't the sorcerers the ones killing his men out there? Weren't Morgana and Morgause who almost brought Camelot to ruin? If he was to believe his father he was a failure in even following Camelot's law.

"Why?" He asked further, feeling too much like a beggar, and that cut even deeper, his pride scattered in the wind.

"What use would it be to judge a man who wouldn't listen?"

Merlin, of course he would know what to say, he sometimes seemed to always know even when he himself didn't want to hear it. Rubbing his hand, Arthur plopped on the chair, his clothes felt tight and the room hot, but beyond the increasing headache, he managed to whisper the next words clearly.

"Where do I find them?"

The skies across the land were grey and dim, with clouds mustering shadows that were too flimsy to be noticed, unless you were aware of how a real day was supposed to look like.

Ahead of him, rode a column of knights, at least until Uther decrees they weren't so, but Merlin knew they would always be knights in the heart, noble and just as they were.

Arthur had only trusted few people to escort him towards the court of the Old Religion, people he knew wouldn't tell his father about it. Percival, Elyan, Gwaine and Lancelot, the knights of the round table, and he, Merlin, couldn't find it more appropriate. They rode through the snowy fields, and cutting winds, urgency was the air they breathed, for Arthur needed to see this through before the war, and Merlin agreed.

"It is said that the Disir divines using an ancient pool. In turn, the pool is fed by the sacred spring at Caerlanrigh. The source of the spring is a grove of yew trees in the White Mountains. The Grove of Brineved." Gaius words to Arthur had been instructions, but for Merlin they were warnings.

"I'm afraid we're about to see dark times ahead of us, my boy."

"Are the Disir really that dangerous?"

"Yes, much so, and considering what we know of Morgana's actions it wouldn't be beyond her to call upon the Old Religion for help. This war will see the threads of many fates coming together, it will define our future."

"What, isn't fate on my side?"

"Fate can be elusive, how many times have you stood between the bright future of the Once and Future King and the evil doings of misguided men? You must be careful Merlin, gods are not known to be forgiving and the Caerlanring is in the heart of the old ways' power, you must watch over Arthur."

Merlin had smirked. "Don't worry, I won't let him do anything stupid."

"Merlin…"

"All right, all right." Despite all their troubles he had smiled at his mentor. "But, you know I've kept him safe for years now, I think I can do it a few more times."

Or so he hoped, at least, in the end he had no choice but to trust his and Arthur's destiny, that somehow he would do everything in his powers and things would work out. Still, he watched Arthur carefully, struck by how down he seemed even when he was smirking and telling him to do stuff, like right now. He was cooking and Arthur was silent. Merlin would say he was sulking, but if that was the case he had been sulking for way too long. Merlin understood that Arthur was under pressure, that he didn't always agreed with his father, which was great, but still, sad.

"You want seconds?" He asked, but Arthur shook his head. "It's good for you, with the cold, you should eat well."

"I'm not hungry Merlin, see if anyone else wants it, or you eat it."

All right, now Merlin was certain Arthur wasn't feeling well, but then, what did he expected?

"I'll take it." Percival said before he could think of something else, taking the place from Merlin's hand and sitting down on his corner of tent.

"Will you share?" Asked Elyan."

"No, knight's rights."

"If I knew being a knight meant going out in the cold this much, I might have said no to accepting the title." Gwaine said, pulling down his scarf so he could rub his nose.

"Is not like we're gonna be knights for long." Elyan pointed out, they were all wearing thick furs and leather, with hats and heavy cloaks to keep warm.

"Yeah, lucky us, what about you Percival, eager to go back to your village?"

"I never wanted to be a knight, honestly, was just looking for revenge." Said the big man, eyeing Arthur. "Until I met you, of course, I found that there are more things worth fighting for."

"Yes, lots of things, the "sir" was really attractive to women."

Merlin laughed with the others, and Arthur as well. "I won't allow your loyalty to be forgotten, I hope you all know that."

"We know, Arthur, we know you're a good man." Lancelot assured.

"A good prince." Said Gwaine and Merlin felt proud to toast with them, clinking their mugs filled with heated wine.

From where he was, he could tell that Arthur was touched, and his smile was a little more real that they had been lately. Merlin was glad.

The tent flapped, the flames burned, and they all fell asleep, one by one, until the soothing quiet overcame Merlin, broken by timely arrival. At first, he thought he was hearing things, a flap of thunderous wings, the breath of a mountain, then the voice of an ancient beast calling for him. Slowly, he snuck away from them, carrying his weight carefully and tucking his hands inside his sleeves. The night was so cold he hesitated to speak, the air scratching at his throat annoyingly.

"I was looking for you, young warlock, I had hopes of reaching you in Camelot."

"Things got complicated." He told Kilgharrah, watching as the snow melted under the dragon's paws. Curious, he got closer, feeling the pleasure of the heat emanating from the being. "You're so warm."

The dragon chuckled. "Well, I am a creature of fire."

"Of course." His lips curled at the corners, but he knew the dragon hadn't reach him for a chat. "What do you want?"

"First, I would like to know what you and the young prince are doing in the White Mountains."

"The Disir sent a runemark to Arthur." He watched the dragon's face, seeking any form of reaction and got nothing. "You already knew."

"Rumors and whispers, Merlin. Yes, I'm aware of the Disir's judgement, I presume by your presence here that you wish to change it."

"Can I stop it?"

The dragon hummed. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"Fate can take many shapes, not all will bring the ruin of Camelot, but Arthur's actions in the coming days will surely be a sign of future times." The dragon waited, seeming weighting something within himself, his eyes closed as cocked his head to side, as if listening to some mute song of the world. "That said, I sense a great danger is on the way, the Witch has gathered a great force, and I've seen the boy, Mordred, at her side."

"Modred?" The name brought a chill to Merlin's spine, the boy's last words to him ringing in his mind like a bellow.

"Yes, their alliance has grown it seems, and it doesn't bode well for Camelot."

"Mordred and Morgana, they will… They will harm Arthur."

"It has been foretold, and I see the current events as a clear sign of the approaching storm." Kilgharrah said, not unkindly.

It was as if something invisible had suddenly punched him in the gut. He had been dreading the next day since he heard Morgause's voice, but now, with the Disir and this new information, Merlin felt the doors closing around him. All those warnings from Kilgharrah were converging, and Arthur didn't even had the chance to be king, properly. They would try to kill him, and he needed to do something.

"How do I stop it? There must be a way!"

"You already know the way Merlin, I've told you the way, but you insisted on ignoring me."

Trembling, Merlin pursed his lips. "Mordred was a boy, Morgana was a friend, I couldn't just…"

"The witch was already an enemy when you healed her."

"Everyone was suffering…" He argued, weakly and ashamed, feeling like a child.

"Suffering is what you would've prevented had you made the right choice."

Merlin sighed, rubbing at his eyes, he didn't feel like mentioning that he tried to kill Mordred once, that he feared his actions that day might've hardened the boy's heart against him and Camelot anyway, and then a part of him went back to wondering on what would have happened had he succeeded. What if he had let Morgana die when she was close to it? He didn't know, he would never know, all he knew was that he saw the pain her loss would bring and couldn't bear it. Now, with a war looming ever close, her might have to kill them anyway if he had the chance.

"She has an army on her side now."

"And you have your weapons, young warlock, you'll find a way."

"Someone might see me…"

"Yes." The dragon said. "That is still your choice though."

"What about you? Will you help?"

"I have no means to do so, for once you ordered me to show mercy, and not bring harm to Camelot, promises that I fulfil even now."

"What?"

The dragon raised his chin, amused. "If you wish for my help, Merlin, you must be aware of the limitations you imposed on me. The power of a Dragonlord doesn't allow for schemes and loopholes."

Merlin sniffled, catching some of the meaning behind those words. He felt it was better to change the subject. "You said once that I couldn't escape my destiny."

"Yes, and now, more than ever, you must accept that."

"So you're saying that this is it? That this is what I was born to do? To fight this war by Arthur's side?"

The dragon peered at him from above, his warmth had started to melt the snow around them and Merlin could feel his boots sinking on the mud, sweat gathering under his heavy clothing. "The future that Arthur will bring and his doom are separated only by you Merlin, is this battle is what you've been waiting for, then it is up to you to end the threat."

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