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Chapter Text

"What did old man Drake say?" Leon asked.

Arthur narrowed his eyes and gestured for Leon to close the door. Leon rolled his eyes but complied, then sat down in the chair on the other side of Arthur's desk. Arthur pushed a deposition aside and fiddled with his pen. It was a lovely fountain pen his father had given him upon his graduation from law school. Arthur used it to sign all of his pleadings, stabbing decisively down onto the paper like he was going into battle. Leon, Erec, Kay, and the other lads in the office called it 'Excalibur' behind his back. Arthur actually liked the name, but he had yet to admit it.

"If I win my next case - whichever case that may be, I suppose - then I'll be an associate at Drake and Associates, LLC as soon as the judge brings his gavel down in my favor." Arthur delivered the words with as measured and even a tone as possible, but at the end he broke out in a grin.

Leon leapt out of his chair and leaned across the desk, one hand out. Arthur yanked him into one of those fierce, one-armed, space-between-us manly hugs, and they both grinned fiercely.

Leon pulled back and clapped Arthur on the shoulder. "You always said you'd make it to the six figures first."

"Well, I am Uther Pendragon's son," Arthur said. "I have to prove myself before I can inherit my father's disgustingly successful firm, don't I?"

Leon laughed. "You're going to put the rest of us to shame, and you know it." He started for the door. "I hope, for your sake, you get an easy case."

Arthur nodded and scooped up the deposition. "I'm hoping. Drake didn't say I had to win an impressive case, after all."

Arthur sat in the back of courtroom thirty-three, eyeing the peach-painted walls with mild distaste. Erec, Lance, and Kay had all just pled out their clients, and it was Arthur's turn to pick up another appointment. He had been itching for a new case for a week straight, desperate to make the cut on Drake's challenge, but he'd had to clear six cases off his desk before the clerks would even think of pushing a new case his way. As much as Arthur wanted to get the open spot in Drake's firm, he wanted a challenge, too. He'd watched the news like a hawk every night, hoping for a juicy felony, but he'd only been at the Public Defender's office for three years and knew he'd have to wait another two years before even a low-level assault landed on his desk.

Kay finished speaking to the judge and stepped away from defense counsel table. He caught Arthur's eye and made a bizarre gesture rather like someone using chopsticks or possibly poking himself in the teeth; did Arthur want to catch lunch during the noontime recess? Arthur nodded and signaled back that he'd be there.

The bailiff rose to her feet and announced the next case.

"Case number 169-842, State of Albion versus Merlin Emrys, one count vandalism by graffiti."

Graffiti? Really? The city actually prosecuted that sort of thing outside of juvie court? Arthur craned his neck to peer at defense counsel table and see who was handling it, but all he saw was a tall, thin fellow with dark hair. He was standing alone. He wore one of the orange corrections center jumpsuits, and from his posture it looked as though he was actually handcuffed.

Even the judge looked a little dubious, but then Aredian was up on his feet behind the prosecution's counsel table.

"Your Honor, this man is a political activist who will continue to litter the façades of our city with his wild slogans and accusations against the government. He's a flight risk and a re-offense risk, and the people request that he be bound over to district court on the grounds that, as this is his second offense, he is charged with a class IV felony." Aredian cleared his throat, and Arthur knew he was going to grand-stand his way through the usual probable cause spiel, about how the officers who'd arrested this poor Emrys kid were reliable witnesses and had evidence that a reasonble person could find it was Emrys who'd committed the crime.

This Emrys character really was a kid. He was tall - probably taller than Arthur, actually, but he had narrow shoulders and a slender neck and ridiculously large ears, and he was probably right out of juvie court, just barely hit his majority. Aredian probably had a grudge against the kid or something.

Once Aredian was done grandstanding, the judge sighed and turned to Emrys. "What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Emrys?"

"I'd like a lawyer, please." Emrys's voice was a light, gentle tenor; he was definitely still a kid. Something in his tone, however, was oddly assured, almost adult-like in its confidence.

"Surely someone from the Public Defender's office -" Aredian began.

The judge sighed and tugged off her glasses. "Let's take a continuance on this case so the public defender's office can sort out counsel for Mr. Emrys, shall we?"

Aredian cleared his throat loudly. "Your Honor, perhaps we should just recess this hearing until after lunch?"

"All right," the judge said. "Bailiff, call the clerk and find out who's on the list for appointment."

The bailiff shuffled through a sheaf of papers on the clipboard. "I don't need to call, actually, Your Honor. Next up is...Arthur Pendragon."

"Are you here, Mr. Pendragon?" The judge scanned the court room.

Arthur rose to his feet, buttoned his jacket. "Here, Your Honor."

The judge scooped up her gavel. "Mr. Emrys, you now have a lawyer. Take twenty, Mr. Pendragon. Bailiff, show them to one of the interview rooms." She banged the gavel.

Arthur grabbed his briefcase and made his way to the front of the courtroom. Emrys turned, and Arthur almost pulled up short. He'd never seen someone with such blue eyes. And then Emrys grinned at him, a wide, friendly grin that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Hello," he said, and offered one hand.

Arthur shook his hand, bewildered by the brightness of his new client's smile. "Good morning, Mr. Emrys."

"Please," he said, "call me Merlin."

Up close, Merlin was - striking. Not attractive, per se, but - he had a lovely mouth. As soon as the thought blossomed in Arthur's brain, he struck it down. First, it sounded like something some nasty inmate called Bubba would say. Second, there were rules about lawyers sleeping with clients. Against lawyers sleeping with clients.

Arthur looked down and fumbled with his briefcase, hoping Merlin couldn't see how badly he was blushing. This was utterly unprofessional. Arthur had represented his share of attractive clients before. Not that Merlin was attractive. Or that Arthur wanted to sleep with him. He gritted his teeth and fished in his jacket pocket for his pen.

Merlin said, "I just want you to know that I didn't -"

Arthur held up a hand to forestall comment. "I don't want to know if you did or did not commit this crime."

Merlin blinked at him. His face was like an open book, and he looked baffled - and a little hurt - at Arthur's abruptness. Good. Maybe a little animus would prevent something unethical from happening.

"It's my job to zealously advocate on your behalf, and yes, anything you tell me that relates to this case is privileged, but it's better if I don't know."

Merlin sighed. "Don't you want to know what happened?"

Arthur flipped open the case file he'd been given. All it contained was Merlin's rap sheet (which wasn't very long), the incident report (filled out by some incompetent officer with childlike handwriting), and the official police report (nicely typed this time but with the same inept grammar as the previous document). Arthur scanned the documents to see precisely what the officers were claiming had happened. Then he shut the file.

"All right, Merlin. Tell me what happened."

"Look, Aredian has a personal grudge against me," Merlin said. "Because I support the anti-registry campaign."

"Personal politics aren't important right now -"

"You prat!" Merlin cried. "This entire farce is about politics. Someone sprayed a mage symbol on a fence downtown, and Aredian assumes it was me. Because he hates me."

Arthur's brow furrowed. "Did you just call me a prat? Look, I'm trying to help you, but clearly you're too ignorant in the ways of the law -"

"I'm not ignorant," Merlin said. He leaned forward, and for one moment Arthur's gaze was fixed on the curve of his lips.

The curves of your lips rewrite history, Arthur thought, and forced the evil-dirty thought from his mind. He was on the job.

"Aredian wants me arrested because he hates magic users and wants us all registered and locked away because we might one day, for no logical reason, decide we want to be dangerous," Merlin said. "And yeah, so I sprayed a mage symbol on the side of a building once before. We're forbidden from learning magic and writing magic and everything else, which is stupid and wrong, given the First Amendment, so I expressed myself the only way I know how."

Arthur took a deep breath. "Under First Amendment jurisprudence, speech that incites imminent lawless violence is unprotected." He'd heard it so many times in Con Law classes at school that it was, at this point, a meaningless aphorism.

Merlin shot him a look of utter loathing. "Not all magic leads to imminent lawless violence. It can be used to heal."

Arthur remembered his father's long speeches about the dangers of mages and their magic, their ability to bend reality to their own wills without thoughts of consequences or remorse.

Merlin sat back, and derision was stark in his eyes. "You're Arthur Pendragon. You, above all, should know that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Arthur asked.

Merlin arched one eyebrow. "Magic. Can be used to preserve and give life. You know that, right?"

"Why would I know anything about magic?" Arthur asked stiffly.

Merlin had the gall to laugh. It was a soft sound, low and almost whispering, and the way his eyes lit made unease thrill through Arthur's blood. "So you don't know. Of course. It makes so much sense now."

"What is it that I don't know?" Arthur asked.

Merlin shook his head. "I'll tell you what, Arthur Pendragon. Represent me well, and I'll tell you. Consider it compensation for your services."

"I'm a public defender. I'm doing this for them and they're paying me, not you." Arthur kept his words steady and professional, but curiosity was already beginning to gnaw at his insides. What was it he was supposed to know about magic?

"Our clock is ticking," Merlin said.

Arthur finally managed to get his briefcase open and find a legal pad and pen. For some reason, the first pen he found was Excalibur, which was strange, because he never used it to take notes, and he always left it at the office. Arthur uncapped it with his teeth, wrote Merlin's name and case number at the top of the page.

"Tell me about the circumstances surrounding your arrest."

It was very Oliver Twist, an innocent Merlin strolling past a law office midday and some thug in a balaclava throwing a can of spray paint at him with a cry of "Catch!" two seconds before police rounded the corner and spotted him.

Even if Merlin looked decidedly earnest about the story - it was the pretty cheekbones and soft mouth, Arthur was sure of it - there was no way Arthur could possibly make that argument fly in court. Conspiracy? Why? How? Parading Merlin on the stand as a pro-mage activist was unlikely to help his case, and chances were anything Merlin might have to say on the political underpinnings of his case would be ruled inadmissible hearsay or irrelevant.

Merlin was determined not to plead out to a misdemeanor, however. He wanted to go to a full blown trial. Over graffiti.

Arthur glanced at his watch. "Look, our recess is almost up. Chances are you're going to get bound over to district court, because even if you didn't do it, the police definitely had probable cause. So...I'll do the best I can, and if you really want, you can plead not guilty at arraignment. I'll see about getting you released on your own recog at the bond hearing and we'll...working something out from there."

"This is what you call zealously advocating?" Merlin asked.

Arthur closed his briefcase and took a deep breath. "Yes."

"Where's your spirit to win?" Merlin stood up, and Arthur was a little distressed to realize that yes, Merlin was indeed taller than him.

"Trial advocacy is not a game," Arthur began.

"So you don't want to win?"

"That's not what I said."

"So you do want to win."

Arthur didn't want to win. He needed to win. Because Drake was watching him.

After the bind over hearing, Arthur scheduled a time to meet with Merlin again - deliberately avoided the boy's gaze and those blue, blue eyes - and then headed for the cafeteria in the basement of the city building. He was halfway down to the basement when his mobile buzzed in his pocket. Arthur fished it out and saw Kay's name and goofy picture flash across the screen, accompanied by a text message.

Your father's waiting for you. He's hacked off. Make ready your shield!

Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the medieval reference. Ever since he had started working at the PD's office with the other lads and they'd discovered that the table in the conference room was round, jokes about the Knights of the Round Table ran rampant. The jokes got worse when Lance showed up. At least he was dignified enough to not go by Lancelot.

Kay was a master of understatement. The cafeteria was eerily silent when Arthur came careening - gracefully - around the corner off the escalator and saw his father, sitting at Kay's table wearing a stony expression that usually meant an entire rank of first-year associates was getting sent to the executioner's block.

"Arthur," Uther said, and everyone else in the room immediately averted their gazes, forks scraping on plates loudly.

Arthur took a deep breath, composed himself, and crossed the room in a few neat strides. He sat down opposite Kay, who was trying to make his remaining three crisps last as long as possible so he had something to do with his hands.

"Good afternoon, Father," Arthur said.

Kay slid a sandwich across the table to him. Arthur nodded his thanks and bit into it as if his father wasn't looming over him, giving him the glare of death. Pretty much the entire cafeteria was watching, but he refused to be ruffled by what was going on. It was virtually unheard of for Uther Pendragon to deign to descend from his glass-walled penthouse office, and Arthur couldn't begin to imagine why his father had bothered.

Unless he'd heard about Drake's offer and thought Arthur was abandoning the family business? Arthur hadn't been seen on the town with any hussies, hadn't stumbled drunkenly out of bars or grievously upset Morgana, so he couldn't begin to fathom why his father was here -

"You should recuse yourself from the Emrys case."

Ah. Uther Pendragon's infamous hatred of mages. Arthur had grown up wary of mages, of course, and he'd seen what terrible things they could do, but Merlin was just a stupid activist student who wanted something to fight for. It wasn't as if he was a mage himself, after all.

Only when Merlin had been raging against Aredian he'd said us, hadn't he? As if he were a magic user too.

"It's not as if I have a conflict of interest," Arthur said.

Uther repeated himself, though his tone made it clear his words were less of a suggestion and more a demand. "You should recuse yourself from the Emrys case."

Arthur was quite sure that the Emrys case would count, to Drake, as his next case, and recusing wouldn't count as winning. "It's a low-level felony. It's not as if I'll lose my career over it." On the contrary, he was hoping to get a leg up in the legal community when it was done.

"Arthur," Uther began, but then Gwen scurried up to him.

She beamed at Uther. "Good afternoon, Mr. Pendragon." Then she turned to Arthur. "I have a message for you." She handed him a slip of paper and then hurried away.

"Thanks, Gwen," Arthur called after her. She was one of the court clerks and she seemed to go out of her way to do nice things for him, which he might have enjoyed if he hadn't noticed the way Lance pined after her so pathetically and nobly. Arthur unfolded the note and scanned it quickly. He rose up. "I'm sorry, Father, but I have an emergency meeting. See you back at the office, Kay." He scooped up the other half of his sandwich and left the cafeteria with as much dignity as he could muster, given that most of his colleagues and all of his opponents had just seen his father treating him like a recalcitrant teenager.

Lance's oh-so-urgent Pick me up a spicy Italian sub? didn't quite qualify as notice for an emergency meeting, but Arthur was willing to lie to his own father about any number of minor things.

Lance looked absurdly grateful when Arthur dropped the sandwich on his desk before heading into his own office.

Lance poked his head out of his office. "Get a new case, then?"

"Yes," Arthur said, and since he was more than willing to lie to his colleagues as well, "Gwen asked after you, today. I told her I'd pass on her good wishes."

Lance beamed and opened his mouth to offer thanks, but Arthur stepped into his office and closed his door. He sank gratefully against it and breathed the sigh of relief that had been fighting its way out of his lungs as soon as the burn of his father's stare on his back had faded.

"You're going to do everything you can to ensure that Aredian's bigotry is brought to a halt, aren't you?"

Arthur jumped. "Morgana! What the hell are you doing in my office?"

"You're going to win this case, aren't you?" Morgana's eyes were wide and earnest, but Arthur recognized the threat in her tone. He'd lost both of his eyebrows to a sudden and inexplicable fire when he was ten because of that tone.

"Of course I'm going to win," he said. "I'm a brilliant lawyer. But why do you care? Won't it be to your benefit if I fail and end up slaving away as a PD until my twenty-five-year loan is up so you can make senior partner at Pendragon & Pendragon in my place?"

Morgana was out of her seat in an instant. "This isn't about the pettiness between you and me, Arthur. This is about Aredian's bigotry and what it'll do to a nice boy like Merlin to end up in prison."

"Nice boy like - Morgana! You know Merlin?" Arthur asked.

Morgana looked away.

Arthur felt his stomach churn. "You've slept with him, haven't you?"

Morgana smacked him on the arm. "Of course not, you dirty-minded berk. Just - do your best, all right? For Merlin." And she left.

Arthur sank down in his chair and wondered if Drake had known this case would cause so much trouble. He suspected the answer was yes.

Chapter Text

After the bond hearing in which Arthur got Merlin released on his own recognizance, Arthur deliberately turned off his mobile so he wouldn't have to hear his father shouting at him or receive a deluge of medieval-themed text messages from his colleagues warning him about the impending family storm.

Instead, Arthur followed Merlin to a side room where one of the court deputies unlocked Merlin's handcuffs and handed him the clothes he'd been wearing when he was arrested. Arthur stood outside the door, feeling rather ridiculously like a knight standing guard over his prince, and waited for Merlin to change. A brief interview in which Arthur had wrung Merlin dry about his personal life had yielded sufficient grounds to get Merlin released on personal recog, but now that the sweet tang of victory at seeing Aredian's enraged expression had faded, Arthur resurrected the curiosity that had pinged in the back of his mind during the interview.

Merlin lived in the Dells at midtown in a flat with his best friend Will. Trust a bleeding heart activist like Merlin to live in the bohemian underbelly of the city. His mother, Hunith, lived in town as well, and she worked as a seamstress in a bridal shop. Merlin worked with his mother's godfather, a holistic healer named Gaius. Merlin was also part of some sort of Big Brother program and was mentoring a troubled youth by the name of Mordred, and by all accounts, he was a bloody saint save that one prior graffiti conviction to his name. Between Aredian's sneering and grandstanding and Merlin's ludicrously adorable, earnest face, it had been too easy to get Merlin released. Arthur suspected that the ease of the hearing wouldn't impress Drake much.

Still, Arthur was on to a good start, or so he thought.

The door swung open, and Merlin stepped out. He wore ratty jeans and a button-down flannel t-shirt over some threadbare, long-sleeved monstrosity with unsightly patches at the elbow. He had a scarf and a too-big brown coat folded over one arm.

Arthur blinked. "I was about to mention that orange really isn't your color and I'm glad to see you out of it, but if that's your usual state of habiliment then maybe you might want to hang on to your jumpsuit."

"You're a prat," Merlin said easily.

"A prat who got you out of jail."

"You're just doing your job. You don't get praise for doing your job," Merlin said, "unless you're a stuck-up actor."

"I could have left you in jail and no one would have accused me of not doing by job," Arthur pointed out.

Merlin inclined his head. "That's true. Thank you. Doesn't mean you're not a prat, though."

Arthur sighed and shoved a business card at Merlin.

Merlin stared at it. "I already have one of these."

"The date and time of our next appointment is written on it. Don't miss it, and don't commit any more crimes in the meantime, all right? One more arrest and you'll be in with the general population down at CCC, and some pervert named Bubba would love to get his hands all over your pretty self." Arthur tucked the card into Merlin's breast pocket. "Now go. Enjoy your freedom."

Merlin blinked at Arthur, confused. "Did you just call me pretty?"

"I said go."

"All right," Merlin said. He headed for the escalator. Then he paused, turned. "I hope this doesn't upset your father too much."

Arthur blinked. He would have called out, but Merlin's ridiculously long legs had already carried him halfway down the escalator, and Arthur had no desire to air for the entire courthouse the drama that was Uther Pendragon being disappointed and angry with his son. Again. What did Merlin know about it? Arthur had been very careful to keep his personal life out of his professional life, especially where Merlin was concerned.

Especially where Merlin was concerned.



Three days later, Arthur found himself on Merlin's mother's doorstep when he should have been at the Round Table with Erec and the others, discussing the intra-office college rugby bracket competition.

Merlin's mother was a kind-looking woman in a dress and an apron, armed with a sturdy corn broom. She smiled at him. "Can I help you?" She had Merlin's sweet smile, or maybe Merlin had hers. Only Merlin had a prettier mouth.

And Arthur really, really needed to stop having thoughts like that.

"I'm Arthur Pendragon, Merlin's public defender. I need to speak to him, but as it happens I've misplaced his mobile number," Arthur said, every inch the polished professional. "Do you know where he might be?"

Hunith's smile actually brightened. Usually people looked disappointed when they learned he was a lawyer and not something useless but infinitely more glamorous, like a professional footballer (although he'd entertained the notion of being one all through secondary school).

"I didn't realize lawyers made house calls these days. Would you like to come in for some tea?"

Arthur tightened his grip on his briefcase reflexively, holding it like it was a shield, and damn Kay for his stupid medieval jokes. "Er, if it's not too much of an intrusion."

Hunith stepped aside to let him in. "Not at all. Merlin doesn't actually have a mobile. Bit old-fashioned, my boy. Let me call round to Will and Gaius and see where he is. Usually about now he's running errands for Gaius, so he might be difficult to catch."

Arthur followed her down a narrow, poky hallway, past a small but comfy-looking den, and into a rather splendid rustic kitchen. Someone had felled a tree and used the stump to make the base of the dining table, then overlaid the rest of the wood to make a thick, ornate table top.

"Have a seat. What kind of tea would you like?" Hunith asked.

Arthur perched tentatively on one of the heavy wooden chairs and requested some Earl Grey.

Hunith moved easily around the kitchen, filling a kettle with water and setting it over blue flames on the stove. Then she sat down opposite Arthur and smiled at him. "By all accounts, you're an excellent lawyer. I know public defenders are often overworked and underpaid, so I'm glad Merlin has you."

I'm glad Merlin has you. She said it as if Merlin was his friend instead of his client.

"Merlin's a good lad," Arthur said, and he felt terribly pretentious saying 'lad' as if he weren't only four or five years older than Merlin. "And Aredian's a beast of a prosecutor. It'll do him some good to knock him down a peg or two."

"This whole mage registry business really upsets him is all," Hunith said, and Arthur stiffened.

He really didn't want to talk about it. His father had summoned him and Morgana for a family supper the night Arthur got Merlin out of pre-trial holding and spent the entire evening reminding his children about the unnatural evil that was magic. Morgana had been stone-faced through the entire thing, which Arthur didn't think was fair, because Uther hadn't been glaring at her the whole night.

"Merlin's different from other mages," Hunith explained. She swiped a hand over her face. "We lived out on a farm when he was a child, and I couldn't afford to send him to a private tutor to learn anything, but he just - does magic. No spells, no incantations, no fancy potions or the like. The way the registry law is written, because Merlin doesn't have a spell vocabulary and doesn't practice any of the defined types of magic, he doesn't actually have to register, did you know?" She shook her head. "He's still fighting anyway, out protesting with Will and the other boys and girls." She rose up and took the kettle off the stove, poured hot water into a mug and set it down in front of Arthur.

He thanked her and dunked the tea bag with shaking hands. Hunith turned away and scooped up the telephone; she was finally making good on her offer to call around and find out where Merlin was. Arthur curled his hands into fists to stop them from shaking.

Merlin did have magic, then.

Arthur closed his eyes and pictured Merlin's face, tried to reconcile it with the image of the evil, self-gratifying mages who imposed their will on reality and warped it to meet their whims. It didn't work, but Arthur remembered the one picture he'd seen of the mage who'd killed his mother, remembered how lovely her face was and how blue her eyes were.

"Thanks, Will. I'll try Gaius."

Hunith's voice snapped Arthur out of his reverie, and he hurried to sip some of his tea. It was still too hot, and he bit back a curse.

Uther thought Arthur didn't know about how his mother had died as a result of some magic spell gone wrong. Her best friend had been a mage, she'd been experimenting, and Arthur's mother had been caught in the crossfire. Morgana was sure it had just been an accident, that the mage woman hadn't intended the result, but too many 'accidents' had led to the passage of the Mage Registration Act.

Arthur wondered if Merlin's father had come to some fate similar to Arthur's mother. He wondered if Merlin knew what his magic was capable of, if he'd still wear that unrestrained smile of his once he learned the truth.

"All right. Thank you very much, Gaius. I'll see you for Sunday dinner." Hunith hung up the phone. "Gaius says Merlin's out running errands, but he should be back at the shop soon. If you go now you can probably catch him there."

Arthur rose to his feet. "Thank you, Mrs. Emrys, for the tea and hospitality."

"Of course," Hunith said. "Thank you for working so hard to help put this business behind us."

Arthur followed her to the door, blinked blearily in the sunlight.

Time to go be a zealous advocate.

The scowling fellow with the thick brown hair had to be Merlin's roommate, Will. He took in Arthur's suit and briefcase and might have openly sneered if an elderly gentleman with longish white hair hadn't shuffled up to the counter and beaten him to the initial sortie.

"How may I help you, young man?"

"I'm looking for Merlin, actually," Arthur said.

Will snorted. "You're him, then. The prat. Pendragon's kid."

Pendragon's kid. Arthur thought he hated it most when he heard that appellation spill from a judge's lips, but Will's utterance earned as yet un-felt levels of hatred.

"I am Arthur Pendragon," he said, "Merlin's attorney. I have important matters to discuss with him."

Will brandished the broom as if he might hit Arthur over the head with it, Robin Hood versus Little John style. "If you're going to try to get him to cop to a plea, you can leave now. Merlin's doing the right thing, fighting this mage registration nonsense."

"What I have to discuss with Merlin is privileged," Arthur said, which was true. Only Merlin had heard it all before and slapped it down without a second's thought, and really, why had Arthur came all the way up to midtown like this except to enjoy the way Merlin looked when his cheeks flushed and he got worked up over mage rights?

The bells over the shop door jangled, and then Merlin said, "That's the last of them delivered. D'you need anything else chopped or ground or whatever before I go and check on Mordred?"

"I think Will and I have things in hand here," Gaius said, "although this young man would like to speak to you."

Arthur turned. "Hello, Merlin. I just received word from Aredian, and -"

Merlin crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not pleading down to another misdemeanor. We're going to trial because Aredian doesn't deserve to get away with bullying people who disagree with him."

Arthur had the sudden urge to reach into his jacket, draw Excalibur, and poke Merlin with it. Repeatedly. Until he saw sense and signed on the bottom of the plea agreement already. Instead he said, "Could we possibly discuss this somewhere else?"

"Anything you want to say can be said in front of Will and Gaius," Merlin said.

Arthur took a deep breath. "Be that as it may, if I say it in front of them, it won't be privileged, and that means Aredian can subpoena them and force them testify against you, and no doubt since they're your friends Aredian will get permission to treat them as hostile witnesses, and I've seen what Aredian does to people on cross, and -"

Merlin sighed. "All right. Just - stop with the legalese." He pulled open the door. "I haven't had lunch yet. We could - I don't know. Talk at the café on the corner."

"I'd honestly rather discuss this at my office," Arthur said. "You never know what people can overhear in public, and Aredian's enough of a bulldog to -"

"You're more paranoid than I am, and that's saying something," Merlin said. "Fine. Your place. You're driving."

Arthur fished his keys out of his pocket. "Obviously. Get in the car." He could feel Will trying to glare holes through his spine as he left the shop.

"I'd like to review your options one more time," Arthur said. He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair.

Merlin nudged the door shut with his scuffed sneaker and plopped down in the chair opposite Arthur. He studied the bookshelves, the books, the papers and office supplies scattered across the desk with mild interest. "Repeating it at me isn't going to change my mind."

"If you plead to another misdemeanor, you'll be sentenced in city court, and the judge is unlikely to give you anything more strenuous than some clean-up, some restitution, and maybe some counseling if you mouth off about mage rights," Arthur said. "It's better than a felony, even if you're only facing a Class IV."

Merlin studied Arthur for a long moment; the intensity of his gaze, coupled with the silence between them, was distinctly unnerving. Arthur resisted the urge to scrub a hand across his face to make sure he hadn't gotten watercress all over his mouth after eating that stupid healthy sandwich Erec had foisted on him at lunch.

"You don't get it, do you?" Merlin asked.

"I'm trying to do what's best for you," Arthur said, "and what's best for you is for you to not go to prison so you can help your mother and Gaius and Mordred. How is Will going to make rent without you?"

"He'd move in with my mother," Merlin said. He set his jaw stubbornly. "Look, this isn't just about me - this is about Aredian misusing the law to punish mages and anyone who supports their rights. I can't just back down - it's not fair to Mordred or anyone else who faces registration, faces being treated like a pariah for the rest of their existence because of some uncontrollable thing they were born with."

"Not everyone is born a mage," Arthur said. "Some people take up magic voluntarily."

"Do we punish artists for honing their natural skills?" Merlin asked.

"We ask black belts in martial arts to register," Arthur said, "because their skills have the potential to be dangerous."

"Magic isn't inherently dangerous," Merlin said. "It can be - and has been - used for many great things. Just because it has the potential to be dangerous doesn't mean we should go around assuming it's dangerous from the start."

"For all you know, magic is dangerous from the start and everything else - the incantations and potions and charms - is just keeping it in check."

"I don't believe that." The adamant vehemence in Merlin's tone was familiar; Arthur had heard his father use the same tone in voicing his own opinion of magic.

"And you'd go to prison for that?"

Merlin lifted his chin. "I would."

Arthur scrubbed a hand over his face. "Do you know what they would do to you in prison?"

"I can take care of myself," Merlin said.

Arthur studied Merlin, his slender frame and his big, expressive hands, the soft flutter of eyelashes against his cheekbones when he avoided Arthur's gaze. "You shouldn't have to," Arthur said.

Merlin's head snapped up.

It was Arthur's turn to look away.

"You're just parroting your father's blind bigotry," Merlin said, but something in his tone was unsteady.

"I am not a parrot," Arthur snapped. He pushed back from his desk and stood up, began to pace. His pacing drove the others in the office mad. Apart from Lance, they'd all gone to law school together, and during finals whenever Arthur was stressed he would pace a trench beside his study carrel until the others made it a game to use him as a moving target for rubber band guns and other office supplies weaponized. "At this point the best I've got is reasonable doubt, that there really was a man in a balaclava who just Artful Dodgered you with a can of spray paint, but we both know that won't fly with a jury."

"Can't you think of anything better?" Merlin asked. "You graduated third in your class at law school. That has to be worth something, doesn't it?"

"I didn't graduate first, and - how do you know what rank I graduated anyway?" Arthur paused mid-pace, spun around to face his client.

Merlin ducked his head, and that adorable blush was creeping along his cheekbones. Arthur could see where Merlin's dark hair curled at the nape of his neck, and Arthur was struck with the sudden and irrational urge to find out if Merlin's hair was as soft as it looked.

"I might have had Will google you."

Arthur shuddered. That sounded much more wrong than it was. But something in him was absurdly pleased. Merlin was curious about him, then?

"I thought it was only fair, seeing how you wrenched an autobiography out of me for my stupid bond hearing," Merlin said.

Whatever might have begun to warm in Arthur's chest immediately went cold. Of course. It was quid pro quo and nothing more. "I didn't ask for an autobiography," Arthur huffed. "It's not like I convinced you to tell me about the time your step-sister killed your pet goldfish or how horribly your first kiss went."

Merlin lifted his head, peered at Arthur through his lashes. "What could the way I kiss possibly have to do with this case?"

Me getting disbarred for unethical conduct, Arthur thought. Instead, he said, "Nothing, which is why I didn't ask about it." Only now he was staring at Merlin's mouth. He'd managed to go for a full half hour without thinking about how lovely Merlin's mouth was.

Merlin sighed and sat back. "I'm not pleading out and that's that. I'm going to trial and I'm going to put a stop to Aredian's persecution of mages." He looked up at Arthur, blue eyes solemn, and suddenly Arthur lost the will to continue arguing with him.

Arthur sank down in his chair. "I'll think of something. Just -" He waved a hand toward the door, irritated, though more with himself than with Merlin. "Go visit Mordred or something. I'll call when I have a plan."

Merlin rose up. "Thanks, Arthur. This means a lot to me."

It meant a lot to Arthur, too. More than Merlin could know.

Chapter Text

Arthur was not Erin Brokovich, and a Class IV felony case that was the turning point of his career was not the appropriate manner or time to stage a civil rights rebellion. That didn't stop Arthur from holing up in the law library with a stack of First Amendment cases at his elbow. After staying up all night replaying everything Merlin had ever said to him and analyzing it within an inch of its existence (and not imagining the way Merlin's mouth shaped the words), Arthur had a plan.

"How's the case for Drake coming?" Lance asked.

"This case isn't for Drake," Arthur said.

"Apparently it's for the skinny blue-eyed kid with the mop of black hair who Morgana almost clawed your father's eyes out over." Lance stood over Arthur, hands jammed into his pockets, looking more like a GQ model than an overworked, underpaid public defender.

Arthur's head snapped up. "What?"

The law librarian, Geoffrey, shot him a dirty look.

"It's all over the courthouse," Lance said. "Gwen told me about it when I dropped off a some plea agreements. Apparently your father is very put out that you let Merlin plead not guilty the other day and he was about to come storming down to our office, only Morgana got in the way and went mental out on him."

"Great," Arthur muttered. "Now everyone thinks I need a girl to fight my battles."

"Don't let her hear you say that," Lance said and grinned. His grin went brighter and softer when Gwen appeared beside one of the bookshelves.

"Arthur," she said, "Judge O'Cara wants to see you."

O'Cara was overseeing Merlin's trial. Arthur got to his feet, scooped up his jacket and cases. "Thanks, Gwen. I'll talk to you later, Lance."

He supposed he should have expected to see his father in Judge O'Cara's chambers. She peered over the top of her spectacles at him, unimpressed at his wrinkled jacket and the stack of printed and marked cases he was trying to juggle. Thursday was Arthur's research day; his father knew that.

"Mr. Pendragon, you're withdrawing from the Emrys case?" O'Cara always got straight to the point.

Arthur shook his head. "I wasn't aware that I was, no." He sneaked a glance at his father.

Uther stood ramrod straight. "I don't like to do this to my own son, but such a conflict of interest cannot go ignored."

"It is my understanding from this motion that you wish to step down as Mr. Emrys's counsel due to personal conflict?" O'Cara was holding a motion to withdraw.

"We have no personal conflict," Arthur said. "I barely know him. He's just a client, like any other. I represent his interests and none of my own." Apart from the fact that Arthur barely knew Merlin, the rest was lies, which made Arthur's attraction to Merlin all the more irrational and untenable.

"Under Rule 1.16(b)(4) of the Code of Professional Conduct, an attorney can withdraw if he finds his client's choices and actions repugnant or disagrees with them fundamentally," Uther said. "This Merlin Emrys is a mage, if an unregistered one, and though Arthur would never speak of it, a mage killed his mother, and Arthur has unspeakable difficulties dealing with mages. His ability to competently represent Mr. Emrys has been compromised. Not only is Arthur allowed to withdraw, he must withdraw."

Arthur went cold. Uther never spoke of Arthur's mother, not like this, and to use her death as a weapon to further his political agenda -- No. Impossible. Except Uther probably genuinely thought he was speaking the truth, didn't he? He just assumed he knew how his son felt and should feel about his mother's death and consequently about mages. If Arthur lost his composure now, he'd play right into his father's argument.

O'Cara seemed to be buying into Uther's logic and was actually looking at Arthur with something resembling sympathy.

"Arthur, if you had just told me --"

"I am an officer of the court first and foremost," Arthur said. He was pleased when his voice was steady and refused to even cast half a glance in his father's direction. "Whatever my personal history, I am more than capable of zealously advocating on behalf of my client."

Judge O'Cara sighed. "You have nothing to prove."

But I do, Arthur thought. To my father, to old man Drake. And to Merlin. "I'm not trying to prove anything, Your Honor. I'm just trying to do my job. I appreciate my father's concern, but I assure you that it's unwarranted and that I did not file that motion to withdraw."

"Someone from your office was kind enough to do it for you," Uther said tightly.

Someone Uther bullied, he meant.

"Well," Judge O'Cara said, "if you think you can proceed competently, I'll let this hiccup go. Good day Uther, Arthur."

Arthur headed for the door, desperate to get back to researching. Only he wanted to call Merlin instead, listen to his voice and his sarcasm and his insults, and --

"Why are you doing this?" Uther asked. "This is about Drake's offer, isn't it? Look, there's still a spot open for a senior associate. If you wanted a corporate job that badly --"

"This isn't about Drake's offer," Arthur began.

"That's a lie."

Arthur paused, thought, rephrased. "This isn't just about Drake's offer."

Uther sighed. "You're a fine attorney, son. You don't have to torture yourself for this - this Emrys moppet just to prove you can represent even the foulest of defendants."

On any other day, for any other case, Arthur would have wept with joy at receiving an actual compliment - no strings attached, no left-handed chaser - from his father. "I'm not torturing myself to prove that I can," he said. "I'm just doing my job, father. You said I had to work hard, and that's what I'm doing. Working hard."

"Arthur, I know that what happened to your mother affected you deeply, and -"

"I don't want to talk about my mother," Arthur said and tasted bitter betrayal at his father's words. "I have to go finish my research. Good day, Father."

But he didn't go back to the law library. He called Gaius's shop and spoke to Gaius, asked him to send Merlin down to the Public Defender's office as soon as possible. Then he locked himself in the conference room with the Round Table and spread out his cases. He had a trial to win.

A knock at the door startled Arthur out of his reading.

"Pendragon, your client's here. Open the door." That was Erec.

Arthur braced himself to face down a slew of medieval jokes - because really? His client was named Merlin and was also coincidentally a magic user? - and reminded himself, sharply, that Merlin was just his client and this was a strategy meeting like every other he'd had. Even though he usually only gave his clients a couple of hours before hearings to get things straight. Making house calls and inviting clients over to the office for long chats was just - just part of doing a good job for old man Drake. Right.

Arthur stood up and opened the door just as Merlin raised his fist to knock.

"Can't you talk to me on the phone like a normal person?" Merlin asked. "I thought I was the boss of my case, not the other way around. Aren't you supposed to be catering to my whims?"

"I plan on filing a motion to dismiss the charges on the grounds that they violate your First Amendment right to freedom of expression," Arthur said. He kicked the door closed and thrust a stack of cases at Merlin. "Sit down and start reading."

Merlin stared at the paperwork. "What? I'm no lawyer or law student or whatever. This will just be gibberish to me --"

"You think I don't know what you scored on your year six IQ test? Sit down and read, Emrys."

Merlin sat down in the chair next to Arthur's and picked up one of the highlighters. "You looked up my school record?"

Arthur didn't answer, lost in the depths of a case.

Half an hour later, Merlin threw down the highlighter. "This is useless. It's not going to work."

Arthur glanced up from a lengthy paragraph about time, place, and manner restrictions. "It will if we do it right. Keep reading."

"Don't you have a paralegal or something to do this?"

"She's doing things for the others right now," Arthur said. He drew brackets around one paragraph and drew a star next to it. "Are you hungry? We could order in some food."

"Food?" Merlin echoed. "I'm going home for dinner. Like any sane person."

Arthur shook his head. "We're going to be here for a while."

"Is that a royal 'we'?" Merlin asked. "I always did think you were a royal prat."

There was something in the fondness of the epithet that made Arthur's heart skip a beat. He cursed his traitorous physiology and reached for the stack of take-out menus by the phone. "Research takes time, and I don't have much. I need to file this motion within the week." He arched an eyebrow at Merlin's mulish expression. "What, you can't handle being stuck in a room with me for six more hours?"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Arthur realized that this was, in fact, a spectacularly bad idea. He was going to be alone. In a room. With Merlin. For six more hours. A room with no windows but with perfectly adequate lighting so Arthur could see the line of Merlin's throat where he was bent over the case printout, the curve of Merlin's jaw as he set it stubbornly as he met Arthur's gaze.

"I'll bet I'd last longer than you would if I were the lawyer," Merlin said.

Arthur had been about to set aside the menus and concede Merlin's point, but the defiance in Merlin's tone was unforgivable. "You're on. Chinese or Indian?"

"Japanese. I want mochi," Merlin said.

Arthur picked up the phone.

Whatever research intensity they might have built up was ruined by them squabbling over the menu while Arthur talked on the phone and confused the poor girl trying to take their order.

"We'd like two orders of edamame, one order of saké rolls, one order of Cali rolls, one order of veggie rolls," Arthur said, peering at the list in Merlin's tight, girly cursive.

"Two orders of veggie rolls," Merlin broke in.

Arthur covered the mouthpiece of the phone. "Two? Are you some sort of bleeding heart vegetarian?"

"No. I just like vegetables," Merlin said.

Arthur arched an eyebrow at him. "Make that two orders of veggie rolls, an order of crunchy rolls, an order of rainbow rolls, an order of caterpillar rolls, two orders of tempura vegetables --"

"How can you possibly eat all that much?" Merlin asked. "It's a wonder you're as fit as you are if you eat like that all the time."

Arthur scowled at him. "We're not eating it all at once - it has to last us the entire evening."

"You mean we're going to be here all night?" Merlin cried.

Arthur's scowl turned into a glare. "Do you want to win or not?"

"I think some kappa rolls would be nice," Merlin said.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Also an order of kappa rolls and some mochi."

"Red bean mochi," Merlin said.

Arthur relayed the specification, then told the girl that yes, he would like the order read back to him. "What? No, I said two orders of veggie rolls, not three, and - yes, one plus two is three, but I said one and then changed it to two, so one minus one is zero plus two is two, woman."

"You can't talk to her like that," Merlin said.

Arthur glared again. "Do you want to eat or not? Why are you arguing with me, anyway? Keep reading." He huffed into the phone. "Yes, and some red bean mochi. Not saké - saké rolls. What do you mean, you don't make saké rolls anymore? Look, they're not actually made out of saké -- how long have you been working there?" He sat up straighter. This Sophia girl was a complete ninny. "Look, why don't you give the phone to someone who can actually hear, and --"

Merlin snatched the phone from him. "Don't listen to him. He's a rude prat." He snatched the handwritten list from Arthur as well. "Why don't we start again, shall we? Nice and slow."

Arthur was glaring at the phone rather more than he was glaring at Merlin; the man's audacity was inexplicable.

"Look, let me do the ordering, since we're putting this on my credit card and all," Arthur said.

Merlin rose to his feet and moved to stand on the other side of the table, turned his back on Arthur. "Okay, from the beginning. Two orders of edamame -- yes. No. Just two. Not two on top of the two he already said."

Arthur sat back and smirked. So much for Merlin being better at this interpersonal business. They'd argued over who would call in the order for a good ten minutes before Arthur had just grabbed his mobile and punched in the number before Merlin could get to the conference room phone. Merlin had insisted that Arthur was too much of a prat and the take-out order person would hang up on him, but Merlin was just bollocksing things up even more.

Fifteen minutes later, Merlin had paced a circle around the table three times, avoided letting Arthur snatch his phone back, and placed the proper order. He flipped Arthur's mobile closed with a flourish.

"There. Wasn't so difficult, was it?"

Arthur pocketed his mobile with as much dignity as he could muster. "Sit down and keep reading. We're here to work."

"You're the attorney - you're the one who's meant to be doing all the work," Merlin said.

"Yes, well, if you weren't so pigheaded I wouldn't be doing nearly as much work," Arthur said. "So read."

Merlin sank down next to his pile of cases and picked up his highlighter once more. "I don't even know what I'm looking for. What, precisely, are you planning on arguing?"

"I'm arguing that the application of the graffiti law in this instance is a violation of your right to free speech," Arthur said. "As you pointed out, so many magic books and instances of magic speech have been banned that you really have little opportunity to express your views about magic, and while ordinarily graffiti is illegal, the law has so completely foreclosed other avenues of expression that you were making a last-ditch attempt at being heard."

"But I didn't do it," Merlin said.

"Look, it's just an argument," Arthur said. "And it's a good one."

"Do you think it will actually work?" Merlin said.

"That's why I need to read all these cases. To find out," Arthur said.

"So...what am I looking for, precisely?" Merlin asked.

"Some instance of a time, place, and manner restriction on free speech being struck down as unconstitutional because it resulted in obvious viewpoint discrimination and the purpose of the application of the restriction was viewpoint discrimination," Arthur said.

"Will the case use those words?" Merlin asked. "'Viewpoint discrimination' and the like?"

"...No," Arthur said, and wished he hadn't taken advanced constitutional law his last year of law school. Professor Bors' opinions about constitutional analysis really had taken over his brain. "But the Court will talk about unfavorable and unpopular viewpoints and how, as long as they meaningfully contribute to the marketplace of ideas in a democracy, they should be protected."

Merlin looked at him for a long moment. "I see."

Arthur's brow furrowed. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Well," Merlin said, and shrugged uneasily. "It's just that - you actually sounded smart. For once."

"Thanks, Merlin," Arthur said. "That was almost a compliment. Now, do you think you can make it through an entire case before the food gets here?"

Merlin nodded and ducked his head, continued reading. Arthur was almost disappointed that he didn't argue back.

At three a.m. all the food was gone and Arthur was hunched over his laptop, typing like a madman. Merlin was leaning over his shoulder, reading.

"I don't think that comma goes there," Merlin said, pointing.

Arthur batted his hand aside. "Commas don't matter now. I can make Erec fix commas in the morning. I'm trying to make an argument here." He read through the previous paragraph, drummed his hands on his thighs.

"Why am I still here? Do you even need me for this?" Merlin asked.

"Yes," Arthur said without looking away from the screen. "Hand me that one case - about the billboards."

Merlin pawed through the mess of cases spread out across the Round Table. "Of course, your highness." He slapped it into Arthur's outstretched hand.

Arthur accepted it and flipped through it quickly, found the highlighted section he wanted, and set to typing once more. He was on a roll, on a buzz, could feel nervous energy burning through his fingertips. He hadn't felt this insane and impassioned about an argument since law school. If he could just make it through this annoying section distinguishing decades of First Amendment jurisprudence, he could get to the heart of the argument, where mage rights were akin to the civil rights in the sixties, and --

"Arthur, you've got almost an entire paragraph of the letter 'p'," Merlin said.

Arthur blinked, then yanked his hand off the keyboard. "Right. Sorry." He deleted the paragraph, then settled his hands neatly in his lap the way his governess had taught him as a child, and returned to his musing. If he pitched everything a certain way, the judge would be terrified of coming off like a bigot, right? O'Cara was a reasonable woman, and there were some rumors that she had magic in her family, so --

"You've been silent for five minutes straight, Arthur. That's unnatural - for you. Maybe you should just save it, get some sleep, and finish tomorrow."

Merlin's breath against Arthur's ear derailed his train of thought completely. Between the sushi and the cases and the typing he'd managed to firmly quash any urges he had to stare at Merlin's mouth or gaze into his eyes or touch his skin, but now Arthur was coming undone.

Merlin reached out, arms creeping around Arthur so he could access the keyboard, and pressed the mouse button to save the document. Arthur's throat closed. He could feel the warmth of Merlin's chest across his back and shoulders, and oh, that was Merlin's hand on his.

Arthur took a deep, shuddering breath. It would be so, so easy to turn his head and capture Merlin's mouth in a kiss, find out if his lips really were as soft as they looked. So he did it, he turned his head, but he was brought up short by the way Merlin was looking at him. His eyes were wide and dark, so dark they were almost black, and then for one moment they gleamed gold.

"We should both go home," Merlin said, and his voice was soft, husky.

Arthur nodded, trying to remember how to breathe. "Of course. Thank you for your help tonight, Merlin."

Merlin stepped back. "I guess I should thank you for working so hard and buying me such awesome sushi."

"Right," Arthur said. He handed Merlin his mobile. "Call yourself a cab. I'll clean up."

Chapter Text

Erec banged on Arthur's door at what felt like was far too early the next morning.

"You use too many commas, but otherwise it's a pretty compelling argument," he said.

Arthur blinked and lifted his head. He'd fallen asleep on some plea agreements. "Wha-?"

Erec leaned in the doorway. "So Kay wasn't kidding - you did pull an all-nighter at the Round Table."

Arthur rubbed at his eyes. "Yeah. I did. But the motion's good? You think it'll work?"

"I don't know if it'll work. Even if it doesn't, it'll definitely set the tone for the trial by the time your client gets around to testifying," Erec said. "It probably helps your case that Aredian's always been a little irrational about magic."

Arthur nodded. "Yeah. Just -" He ran a hand over his hair, attempting to flatten back down into some semblance of neatness. Aredian more than a little irrational about magic. "Who filed that motion to withdraw for my father?"

"The new guy, Tristan. Uther read him the riot act, and, well, let's just say that young Tristan comes to us in a bit of a pickle. Heard he was having an affair with the senior partner's wife at his last law firm." Erec clicked his tongue sympathetically. "Don't blame him, all right? We've seen the boldest and the brightest crumble under Uther Pendragon's stare. Too bad you didn't inherit it from him."

Arthur waved for Erec to go away, which he did after dropping off a red-penned copy of the motion on Arthur's desk. Arthur shoved the plea agreements aside and booted up his rickety little laptop. He'd had the thing all through law school and three years after graduation it was still treating him well.

Sort of.

Before he could even think about wading back into the motion that he'd spent all night writing, a little notice popped up in the corner of the screen. Urgent email from old man Drake. Arthur felt his palms begin to sweat. He clicked on the alert and his email opened up a moment later. The message was short but not to any discernible point.

You cannot win this alone, it read, for there are two sides to every coin, and destiny wills out.

That was all it said.

Arthur stared at it for far too long, and then the sounds of the other lads in the office talking to Tristan, the new lad, spurred him into action. He had a motion to file.

Arthur hated those moments when he realized his father was right about something Arthur desperately wanted him to be wrong about. The truth was, Arthur's competency to represent Merlin was compromised, but not because Merlin had magic or anything of the sort. It was because Arthur wanted to drag Merlin into the nearest shadowy corner, push him up against the wall, and kiss him senseless.

Which was highly irrational, because he barely knew Merlin, and Merlin was his client, and --

It was Merlin's fault anyway, the way he'd goaded Arthur into being locked together in a room for nigh on eight hours, spinning theories and arguments and getting lost in the complexities of freedom and belief. Merlin's eyes shone when he was passionate about something, and his hands were lovely as he tried to sketch an argument in the air. When Merlin was leaning that close and breathing against Arthur's ear and touching him, how could Arthur possibly think clearly enough to ask important questions to get the facts necessary to win his argument?

Because if Aredian wasn't raking him across the coals right now and smirking all the while because Arthur kept having to say I don't know (whoever said admitting he didn't know was better than faking it was a vicious liar), Arthur wouldn't have realized that he was very ill-prepared to argue this motion. His argument was entirely theoretical and until he had the facts to back it up he was going down in flames, and judging by the way O'Cara was looking at him, his funeral pyre had long ago been set ablaze.

This was Merlin's fault. If he hadn't shown up for court (he didn't even have to be there for a motion in limine, anyway) looking absolutely stunning in a black suit and white button-down shirt and a ridiculously bohemian-skinny tie, Arthur might not have stuttered through his first thirty seconds of argument. Merlin hadn't come to sit at counsel table; on the contrary, he'd stood in the back the entire time, looking at Arthur with dark, baleful eyes, his soft mouth set in a thin, almost angry line. Arthur could feel Merlin's gaze between his shoulder blades as he stood at the lectern in front of the judge, doing his best to answer questions and feeling Merlin's gaze burn a little bit more (and not in the good way) every time his answers stumbled.

After the hearing ended and other attorneys shuffled into place at the counsel tables, Arthur scooped up his briefcase and squared his shoulders. He scanned the back of the courtroom, but Merlin was gone. For some reason, not having to face Merlin about his failure felt worse instead of better as Arthur had thought it would. He loosened his tie and glanced at his watch. Lance had it in his head to make Tristan feel welcome, so some of the lads from the office were going to take him to lunch at the deli next to the federal courthouse; it had some of the best reuben sandwiches in the state.

As if on cue, his mobile buzzed. Text message from Erec. What ho, valiant brother-at-arms? Did you slay the wicked Aredian beast?

Arthur wasn't in the mood for medieval humor. He tapped out a brief message. Doesn't look good. Thanks for help with the commas. As an afterthought, he turned his phone off before he shoved it into his pocket.

"Morgana told me why you took this case."

Arthur spun around. Merlin was standing right in front of him, in his personal space, and there were honest-to-goodness golden sparks flashing in his blue eyes.

"I'm a public defender and we're assigned cases. My name just happened to be next on the list," Arthur said tiredly. "It's just luck of the draw. How do you know my step-sister, anyway?" The niggling notion that maybe Morgana had slept with Merlin crept into Arthur's throat, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to speak again any time soon.

"You hate mages, don't you?" Merlin said. "Because one killed your mother. You could easily have assigned my case away to someone else, but you're just sticking it out because you want a job at the Drake firm downtown. I watched what you did in there, and really, you shouldn't have bothered to - to lead me on about wanting to help and caring about my rights if you were just going to throw the hearing anyway."

Words leapt onto the tip of Arthur's tongue, fiery and ready to hurt. "Precisely who has been leading who on here? Because I've been nothing but a professional about this entire affair. You're the one who wants to use a measly little felony charge as a platform for your grand political scheme, and I'm just --"

Addicted to the way you look and desperate to learn the way you taste.

Arthur shook his head. "I did the best I could under the circumstances."

"Oh yeah? And what circumstances would those be?" Merlin's tone was angry, a challenge.

There was no way Arthur was going to have that conversation in the middle of the courthouse. He shook his head. "I'm not discussing that here."

"Fine," Merlin said, tone sharp. "We can discuss it back at your office, like professionals."

"Fine," Arthur said from behind clenched teeth. He reached into his pocket for his mobile and hit the speed dial.

Lance answered. "Do you get mustard on your reubens? I can never remember if that's you or Kay."

"Tell Tristan I'm sorry - I'm not going to make it."

Lance caught Arthur's tone immediately. "Is everything all right? Is it the Emrys case? What happened?"

"I'll see you later." Arthur hung up and just barely resisted the urge to drop his phone over the railing and hear it shatter four floors down. "Let's go."

Arthur closed his door and locked it, drew the shades. His hands shook as he went through the motions. Anyone else in the office would just assume that some seriously confidential conversation was about to go on and not think anything sordid about two men locked alone in an office, but Arthur could feel Merlin standing next to the desk, feel the fury radiating from him in icy waves.

"So really, why are you going out of your way to take on a case that you hate, only to throw it at the last moment?" Merlin asked. "All that hard work last week was for show, wasn't it? Make-believe so Drake would think you're working your heart out on this case and if you lose, well, that's the luck of the draw, isn't it? An experienced lawyer like Aredian, an unforgiving judge like O'Cara --"

"I don't know how you know Morgana or why she told you what she did, but yes, my chance at a spot in Drake's firm is common knowledge," Arthur said, "conditional upon me winning your case. Not almost winning, not losing gracefully. I have to win if I want that job, which means you walk away free and clear and without a blemish on your admittedly short record." He curled his hands into fists. He wasn't used to this, to squaring off against another person directly. Litigation wasn't like this at all - there was always the buffer of safety, the judge as intermediary to soften the intensity of eye contact and the thrum of another person's energy.

"Then what the hell was that in there?" Merlin asked.

"Why were you there anyway?" Arthur demanded. "It was just a motion in limine. You didn't have to be there."

"You prat," Merlin cried, "I was there because I wanted to support you, but then on the way in I saw Morgana, and she told me the truth."

Morgana again. Arthur was quite tired of her meddling in this case.

"Yes, well, she doesn't know the half of it," Arthur spat.

"Then tell me," Merlin snapped. "I'm the one who risks prison here, not her, not you, not anyone else!"

"Fine!" Arthur flung his hands up. Then he began to pace back and forth behind his desk. "The truth is I screwed up out there. I should have asked you more questions, should have backed my argument up with facts even though once O'Cara asked the questions I knew the proper answers and they weren't good enough. If I'd gone with my gut instinct as a lawyer instead of - of trying to make you smile then maybe I'd have realized that it really was a stupid argument in the first place."

Merlin's eyes went wide. "Are you saying this is my fault?"

"Yes! No! I don't know." Arthur pressed his fist to his mouth to suppress the flood of words that threatened to follow.

"Why didn't you ask the questions then?" Merlin asked. "What, were you just...negligent or something?"

Negligence. Malpractice. Arthur could see his career going down in flames. Why were there always flames? He took a deep breath, then another, lowered his hand when he dared speak. Merlin was still looking at him with those eyes, his soft lips parted as if to ask a question.

Arthur shut his eyes. "The truth is, I had a chance to withdraw that I didn't take, and I should have taken it, because I'm really not competent to represent you."

"I thought you were a Pendragon, that you'd inherited your father's uncanny instinct for battle and argument and --"

"I was distracted, all right?" Arthur flung himself into his chair. "That night we were writing. You were next to me and then when I was typing you leaned into me and you kept speaking with your mouth and..." He wanted to hit something. Maybe break a few knuckles while he was at it. The pain might distract him from the white-hot embarrassment building in his chest.

"What's wrong with my mouth?" Merlin demanded. "Are you saying you can't represent me because you think I'm repulsive? Are you really that shallow?"

"There are no rules against finding your client physically repulsive," Arthur said, his voice low and terse. "But there are rules against wanting to pin your client against the nearest flat surface and kiss him breathless."

Merlin's mouth shut so fast his teeth clicked.

"It would be an ethical violation of the highest order, a counselor abusing his position as a fiduciary --"

Merlin was leaning across Arthur's desk in an instant, so close their foreheads were almost touching.

"Are you saying you got distracted because you wanted to kiss me?" His voice was soft, breathless.

"Wanted?" Arthur echoed. "I want to kiss you every second of every day and I don't even know why. You have big ears and you won't listen to reason and if you just did things my way you'd be able to continue campaigning for mage rights outside of prison with some misdemeanor convictions to make you look like a martyr."

"But I'm the client," Merlin murmured in that damnable voice of his, and this close his mouth looked so, so soft. His eyes fluttered closed. "You're supposed to do things my way."

He leaned in closer.

Arthur wrenched himself backward with a strength of willpower he hadn't realized he possessed. His heart was racing and his entire body was burning with lust.

"No. Merlin, we can't."

Merlin straightened up, his eyes still closed, and Arthur could see that he was trembling, ever so faintly, his entire body shaking from his eyelashes fluttering against his lovely cheekbones to the tips of his fingers to his toes.

"Arthur," he said, "do you know what magic feels like?"

Arthur was struggling to remember how to breathe. "What?"

"Magic." Merlin's eyes opened, and Arthur saw tears glittering on his eyelashes. "Do you know what it feels like to have magic inside of you?"

Arthur shook his head, confused. Where had this come from? What was going on?

Merlin laughed softly. "It feels amazing." Tears slipped down his cheeks. "It's like the warmth of sunlight on a perfect summer day, spreading all through your limbs. It's the brightness of lightning and the softness of a moonbeam, and the curious thing is, I didn't have to learn a thing. No books, no spells, no boring chants. It's just in me, and it will do anything I want. Do you know how terrifying that is?"

As Arthur watched, Merlin's eyes faded from blue to gold, the same gold that sparked in his eyes whenever he was angry. Arthur's breath caught in his throat. All those times Merlin had been angry at him - that was magic in his eyes.

"Growing up, I didn't even have to try. If I concentrated hard enough, my magic would do it for me, and then - and then one day I didn't even have to think about it." Merlin was shaking harder, and Arthur was afraid he was going to fall over.

He stood up and walked around the desk, put a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "Merlin, it's all right --"

Merlin shook his head. "I've spent my entire life terrified that one wrong thought, one wrong idea might split reality apart. Everyone who knows of my magic, save perhaps my mum, is terrified of me right back. Even Will and Gaius, who watched me growing up - everyone is afraid of me, and it's not my fault." He took a deep breath, and his eyes were still blazing bright golden.

Arthur swallowed hard. "Merlin, please."

"Then you came along, and yeah, you were a prat, but you were a handsome prat, and you seemed like you actually cared in your own grudging, prat-like way, and then it seemed you were just a genuine prat after all, which you had to go and ruin by telling me that you want to kiss me and --" Merlin hiccuped. "Now you won't kiss me, out of some misguided notion of professional nobility or whatever. And it's not fair. I'm pretty sure you're the first person who's ever wanted me, and it's all ruined because you're my lawyer."

Arthur didn't know what to do. "Merlin, I - I'm sorry. It's just - it's not misguided professional nobility. It's a question of ethics. If I'd let you kiss me just now, I'd have had to turn myself in to the ethics committee, and they'd throw me off your case, and I'd likely lose my license to practice. And then where would you be?"

Merlin shook his head. "No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to turn into a bloody girl in the middle of your office." He swiped a hand over his face. He peered up at Arthur from between his fingers, and his eyes were blue once more. "They actually have rules about who you can be attracted to?"

"Not quite," Arthur said. He closed his eyes and sighed. "I can be attracted to you all I want. The moment I act on it, however, is another matter entirely." He opened his eyes. "It's a question of ethics."

Merlin's brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur held up a hand to forestall questions.

"I know most people think lawyers are amoral hacks, but the fact of the matter is, we're taught to consider ourselves fiduciaries, trusted counselors," he said. "We've been given a special place in the legal system where people trust us with their businesses, their property, their secrets, even their freedom. If I acted on my attraction toward you and you reciprocated, the law would never know if it was because you're genuinely attracted to me or because you think you owe me for what I'm doing for you, or if I forced you because I have leverage over you. I have an ethical duty to not take advantage of you. Do you understand?"

Merlin shook his head. "Not really, no. I mean - the law has ethics of attraction? That's inhuman."

"Is it?" Arthur asked. "Would you think the same if you or I were married?"

"But neither of us are."

Arthur sighed. "Some relationships, by the very nature of the people in them, can never come to fruition." He was quite sure that any moment now, Lance or Kay was going to come banging down his door and demand to know who was sighing like a heroine from a melodrama.

"And when you're no longer my lawyer?" Merlin asked, stepped closer.

Arthur shook his head and stepped back. "Too little, too late."

"I see," Merlin said. "So we can never --?"

"Never."

Merlin stepped back, lowered his gaze. "What do we do now?"

Arthur took a deep breath, studied Merlin's pale face, the curve of his mouth. Could he resist? He had to. "We start the discovery process, do some investigating, and show the jury that you were set up."

Merlin's head came up. "Really?"

Arthur nodded.

"Does this mean you'll stop being such a prat?"

"If you stop being so bloody attractive and leaning all over me," Arthur said.

Merlin broke into one of those wide smiles that made Arthur's heart trip over its own beat. "Then let's get to work."

Arthur unlocked his front door and had to pause to get his key back out of the lock. Then he stepped into his flat, kicked off his shoes, and kicked the door shut. His briefcase went in its usual spot by the kitchen table, and then he wandered into his bedroom to shuck off his suit and get into some comfortable jeans and a t-shirt. As much as Arthur loved being a lawyer, he hated wearing a suit, and he wasn't sure why he'd chosen a profession that required him to wear the grown man's equivalent of a school uniform every day. The fact that his father was a highly successful lawyer and expected Arthur to carry on the family business was one Arthur refused to consider in pondering his career choice.

By the time Arthur had collapsed on the sofa in comfortable clothing, he had no desire whatsoever to get up and make himself any supper, so he dialed the Chinese take-out place around the corner and ordered mushu pork.

All day, while he'd been in hearings and depositions and meetings, he'd replayed his conversation with Merlin from the day before - the golden gleam in Merlin's eyes, the hum in the air that must have been his barely-contained magic; how close they'd come to kissing. Arthur closed his eyes and groaned. He wondered if old man Drake knew how serious this case had become, and if he was laughing away in his old cave of an office.

He probably was laughing.

Arthur stared at his blank television screen and wondered how the hell he was going to make it through this case. For the first time, when he'd been in his office faced with the possibility of actually getting to kiss Merlin, this case hadn't been about a spot at Drake's firm, hadn't been about proving himself to his father. The case was about Merlin and everything he'd gone through growing up, about Aredian and his petty bigotry, and how Arthur and Merlin were going to stop it together.

Arthur wondered what his mother, who had died at the hands of a mage, would think of his defending Merlin. Uther rarely spoke about Ygraine, and all growing up with his cavalcade of nannies, Arthur had been free to imagine his mother as the kindest, most gentle person in the world. She probably would have taken one look at Merlin's bright blue eyes and his sweet smile and told Arthur to give it everything he had.

If only Arthur could give Merlin what Merlin deserved most - affection, trust, and maybe even l--

Arthur derailed that train of thought quickly and viciously. He glared at his reflection in the blank television screen. After a few moments, he sighed and shook his head at his own mental ramblings. He needed to get a handle on this case, set Merlin's world to rights, and then go on to work hard at Drake's firm. Arthur's stomach rumbled, and he glanced at his watch. The delivery boy would be at least another ten minutes. Arthur heaved himself off the sofa and went in search of his guitar. Then he plopped back down on the sofa and picked idly at the strings. He suspected that if he actually dared play a song, it would be some pathetic power ballad that would just make him think of Merlin more, so he settled on plucking some easy blues scales to while away the time until his supper arrived.

When the doorbell rang, Arthur was off the sofa like a shot. He fumbled in his pocket for his wallet - which was clumsy, as he was still holding his guitar for some reason - and then he pulled open the door.

"How much?" he asked.

Morgana smirked at him. "Is that how you greet your dates, Arthur?"

He groaned. "What are you doing here? I don't have to see you except for at those awful family dinners once a week. I'm expecting a Chinese feast any minute now, so state your piece and get out of my doorway."

Morgana cast a pointed look at his guitar and arched an eyebrow. "Power ballads again, Arthur? Work giving you that much grief?"

Arthur knew that she wouldn't go away even if he shut the door in her face, and she would spend the next three hours reciting her most embarrassing childhood memories of him for all his neighbors to hear, so he stepped aside and let her in. "What do you want, Morgana? Can a man not have peace in his own home?"

"Erec told me about your motion in limine for the Emrys case. Sloppy work. If you were in the private sector, you'd have a malpractice suit at your feet so quickly --"

"Please, do come in and have a seat on my sofa and continue to tell me about how you're gossiping about my cases," Arthur said and gestured grandly.

Morgana perched on the sofa and unwrapped her scarf with graceful hands. She had come straight from the office and was still wearing one of her fancy designer suits. "I saw Gwen down at the courthouse today. She told me you and Merlin had an argument after the hearing. According to Lance, there was even more shouting back at the office. Drake's not going to like hearing about that."

"What do you know about what Drake would or wouldn't like to hear?" Arthur set his guitar back down on its stand and leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest. He'd been Uther Pendragon's son long enough that he managed not to make the posture look defensive.

Morgana shrugged carelessly. "Kay told me that after the argument, Merlin seemed all right when he left, so maybe you didn't ruin your chances with him at all."

"Ruin my chances with Drake over an argument with a client? I'm not an idiot," Arthur said.

"I didn't mean your chances with Drake," Morgana said, and there was a disturbing flash of knowing in her eyes.

Even though Morgana had come to live with Arthur and his father when she was ten, Arthur had been Uther's son for much longer, and he fancied himself better at playing the courtier prevarication game. "You never did tell me how you know Merlin, or why you're so concerned about his case. Especially since it's been a pleasure of yours since childhood to see me utterly fail."

"It's not that I enjoy seeing you fail," Morgana said, and Arthur would silently concede that was true. Both of them were Uther Pendragon's children, and both of them knew better than to deliberately incur his wrath. Morgana did, however, enjoy watching Arthur make a fool of himself. "It's just that - Merlin is a nice lad, and he doesn't deserve the nonsense Aredian's inflicting on him."

Arthur considered her statement longer than it deserved. "How do you know Merlin is a nice lad, precisely?"

"He's Merlin. He couldn't hurt a fly."

"I didn't ask whether he would hurt a fly, I asked how you know he wouldn't hurt a fly, and you didn't answer."

Morgana's eyes flashed in irritation. "This is not cross-examination, counselor. Don't use your witness control methods on me."

"You're a lawyer, Morgana, you know how to answer a question, so bloody well do it," Arthur snapped. "This case hasn't been easy, what with Father trying to get me thrown off of it and Aredian being a bulldog, and your infernal meddling and gossiping isn't helping. Clearly, you have some stake in the outcome in this case. I said it before and I'll say it again: state your piece and then leave. Before you put me off my dinner."

Morgana was on her feet. "I've never known you to be quite so rude, Arthur Pendragon."

"Yes, well, you manage to bring out the worst in me," Arthur said. "What do you want? With me or Merlin or Aredian or --"

"For once, I want you to be a human being about a case," Morgana said, "and not treat it like one of your stupid football matches, like a game to be won. Merlin's a decent human being and he's had a hard enough life as it is. You being your arrogant self is hardly going to help him and others like him."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Others like him? This is a criminal case, Morgana, not a class-action suit or a constitutional challenge. I don't care what happens to the other mages, I care about what happens to Merlin, because he's my client, not anyone else."

Anger flashed in Morgana's eyes, accompanied with something that looked so much like guilt. Arthur took a step toward her. "Bloody hell, Morgana, you did sleep with him!" Even as he said it, he knew it wasn't true, knew Merlin didn't think of Morgana like that, not if he wanted Arthur instead. Arthur realized he was pathetically relieved that it wasn't true, but his relief was overridden by the fierce rush of glee at the fury that crossed Morgana's face.

"That's the second time you've accused me of that, and it's not true. You should know it," she snapped.

Arthur stepped back, crossed his arms over his chest once more. Back when he and Morgana had been teenagers, this would have been about the time she'd thrown down one of her little satin gloves, and then they would have stomped to the fencing gallery to break out out the epées.

"Either you tell me what your investment is in my case," Arthur said, "and I'll take it into consideration as I work with Merlin, or you keep your peace and keep your nose out of my case and when it's done we never speak of it again. Does that work for you? Because it works for me."

Morgana sighed. "Arthur, you don't know anything about magic --"

"I know a sight more about it than you do," Arthur said. "And who do you think you are, telling Merlin things about my mother that you know I don't tell anyone? If Father found out - he didn't even tell me about it. I had to find out from a bloody newspaper. And I swore you to secrecy when we were thirteen. Remember?" Just talking about it renewed the sting of when Uther had so brazenly used the story of his wife's death to try and sway Judge O'Cara about getting Arthur removed from Merlin's case.

"Arthur," Morgana began, but Arthur cut her off.

"What do you want, Morgana? Either tell me or go. Just go."

She looked at him for a long moment. Then she said, "Do right by Merlin, please?"

Arthur didn't know how to tell her that he was stretching his willpower to the limits trying to do right by Merlin, so he just nodded.

The doorbell rang, and Arthur hurried to answer it. It was the delivery boy. Morgana slipped past him while Arthur paid for his food.

He didn't end up eating it.

Chapter Text

"That's all the police gave you?" Merlin asked. "The arrest reports?"

"They came in your initial file. I requested some follow-up notes," Arthur said, "as well as any footage from security cameras near the scene of the crime."

"Oh. D'you think the government has that?" Merlin leaned over Arthur's shoulder to peer at the contents of the cardboard box the prosecutor's office had sent over. Then he sensed Arthur's shoulders go tense and he took a respectful step back.

"I doubt it," Arthur said. "Those coppers probably figured it for an open-and-shut case and didn't go back to look for it. I'm going to subpoena for it, obviously, but chances are it's been recorded over by now. Still, it's my job to represent you thoroughly and competently, so I'm going to ask for it."

"Right. Anything I can do to help?" Merlin asked.

"You can be quiet while I read these."

"You've read them before."

"I need to read them again." Arthur began to jot notes on one of his many beat-up yellow legal pads, and then he paused, eyed Merlin. "Don't you have deliveries to do for Gaius or something?"

"It's my day off," Merlin said easily.

"You're not doing anything fun with Mordred?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Do you want me to leave?"

"Yes. No. Go make yourself useful and - go get Owen to show you how to use the coffee machine." Arthur made a dismissive gesture and resumed taking notes.

"Yes, Your Highness," Merlin said, and ducked out of the office.

He was gone for almost half an hour before Arthur thought to be concerned. When he poked his head out of the office, he saw Merlin standing by the coffee machine, talking and laughing with Lance. Something about the way Merlin's face lit up when Lance recounted something particularly funny made jealousy curl in Arthur's chest, but he pushed it aside. It made perfectly good sense that Lance could make Merlin smile. After all, Lance was a gentle fellow, and he was too handsome for his own good. Arthur would just have to make sure to mention to Merlin that Lance was rather besotted with Gwen the court clerk.

By the time Merlin returned, Arthur had a strategy formed.

"Here you go," Merlin said. He set a mug of coffee down next to Arthur's elbow. It was chipped and the coffee was tepid.

"Don't give up your day job, because you'll never make it as a barista," Arthur said.

"Is it too cold for you?" Merlin asked.

"That doesn't matter," Arthur said, but then Merlin's eyes blazed gold, and suddenly the coffee was steaming once more. Arthur blinked. Merlin blushed and ducked his head.

"Sorry - I wasn't thinking. I just--"

Not a word, not even a gesture. Just a thought. Arthur could see, for one moment, why his father wanted all magic eradicated. If people could bend reality to their will with the tiniest thought --

But it was difficult to reconcile Merlin and his puppy-sweet grin and big blue eyes with an egomaniacal warlock bent on renting reality in twain.

"It's fine," Arthur said. "Maybe there's hope for you as a barista yet. Now, I need you to recount, in painful detail, where you were on the day in question, from when you woke up to when the police arrested you. And I'll need names - names of anyone who saw you and can verify where you were. Do you understand?" He had Excalibur poised to write.

Merlin nodded. "All right. Where shall I begin?"

"At the beginning would be nice."

"Right. So, I woke up --"

"Merlin."

"You said 'at the beginning'."

"Now who's being a prat?"

"Fine. The first place I went when I left the house was Gaius's apothecary."

"What was the point of all that?" Merlin asked once Arthur had made him repeat his story four times.

"Reasonable doubt," Arthur said, straightening his copious notes. He put them into his file in the briefcase. "Your mother can testify that you don't own paints of any sort, and on the day in question you were not seen in or near an art or home improvement store, and before the crime you were not seen in possession of paint of any sort. Your movements are fairly well documented up to the time of the crime, so I'll need to interview more witnesses to establish a timeline." He ticked off each item on his fingers as he listed it, concentrating on the case he was trying to build. "Immediately after the crime in question, you didn't try to run, and flight is often an indication of consciousness of guilt."

"So my lack of, er, flight, could be used as an indication of innocence?" Merlin asked.

"Precisely," Arthur said.

"What about the fact that I've been arrested for graffiti before?"

"I'll do my best to keep that out of evidence. Perhaps another motion in limine. I'm pretty sure I can argue inadmissible character evidence to prove action in conformity therewith."

Merlin blinked.

Arthur realized he'd lapsed into legalese and sighed. "I can argue another motion in limine. To suppress, this time, not to dismiss charges."

Merlin nodded, smiling as realization dawned. "How many motions can you make?"

"As many as are reasonable and not frivolous," Arthur said. "Basically, we have to show the jury that there was no way you could have painted that symbol on the fence and there is no way the government can prove that there wasn't a man in a black balaclava who framed you."

"Does the government have to prove that?" Merlin asked.

"Not precisely," Arthur said, "but if we frame our argument properly, we can present the facts in such a manner that unless the government does prove you weren't framed, the jury just won't believe them."

"I can't decide if that's idiotic or deviously brilliant," Merlin said.

"Deviously brilliant." Arthur closed his briefcase and stood up, scooped up his suit jacket. "Come on - you'll have to help me do interviews."

"You're a professional - can't you do them yourself?" Merlin followed him toward the lifts anyway.

"I suspect Mordred won't want to talk to me without you there. Will won't either, I don't think. At least, not without trying to brain me with a broom." Arthur pressed the button for the parking garage. "Tell him it's not a good idea - I've been training with a sword since I was three."

"A fencing foil is not a real sword," Merlin said and wore a dubious but amused expression.

"I doubt Will wants to find out to the contrary." Arthur fished into his pocket for his keys. "Now, where does Mordred live?"

Arthur thought he'd done quite well for the past two hours, not thinking about the way Melin's lips curved when he smiled and how soft his skin was when their hands brushed as Merlin handed him a mug of coffee, but then Mordred was staring up at him with those unblinking blue eyes and Arthur would much rather have been looking at Merlin, who was hovering and smiling encouragingly.

"We played chess," Mordred said. "Merlin's not very good at it, but he tries."

Arthur darted a glance at Merlin, who blushed and prodded Mordred's shoulder lightly. Merlin looked quite adorable when he blushed. Arthur resisted the urge to stab himself with Excalibur to bring himself back into focus. "How long did the game last for?"

Mordred reached into the pocket of his hoodie and drew out a small notebook. He opened it and pushed it across the table toward Arthur. At first, the shorthand baffled Arthur completely, but once he deciphered the handwriting he realized that he was looking at chess moves. Timed chess moves. Arthur felt something in his chest leap. He leafed through some of the preceding pages, and he realized that the notebook held almost six months' worth of chess matches, each move recorded down to the second. Amazing. It would be nothing to lay foundation for this as an exhibit, and Aredian's chances of discrediting it were minimal. He smiled at Mordred. "Do you remember what time the game began?"

"Yes."

Ah. A boy who answered questions as they were asked. He'd be excellent on the stand.

"What time did the game begin?"

"At 9:17 a.m."

Arthur blinked at the precision. "How can you be sure?"

"I know Merlin's routine."

"What is Merlin's routine?"

"Merlin arrives at 9 a.m. on Tuesdays," Mordred said. "He spends thirty seconds at the door greeting the matron on duty, and then we spend eleven minutes having tea and toast. It takes five minutes to set up the chess pieces while Merlin asks me about my studies, and then another minute while Merlin tries to convince me to play the white pieces."

Relief flooded Arthur's limbs, and he flashed Merlin a reassuring smile. "Excellent."

The interview with Will was less than excellent in several different ways. Half the time he wouldn't make eye contact, and he punctuated all of his answers with surly comments under his breath. Unlike Mordred, he was also incapable of answering questions as they were asked.

"How long did you and Merlin work together in the shop?" Arthur asked.

"Well, Merlin usually tidies the stock room, and then Gaius trusts only him to chop up some of the bigger ingredients for mixing prep, which leaves me to man the till and sweep the floors and straighten the shelves and things - "

Arthur took a deep breath and nodded, letting Will ramble on. Only Will didn't actually answer the question at all. Arthur took notes to stop himself from accidentally stabbing Will through the eye with Excalibur, which would have been unfortunate, because Will's eye goo would most likely clog the nib, and Excalibur was a very expensive pen. Much to Arthur's dismay, Merlin looked inordinately pleased that Will was speaking at all.

"So, precisely, how long was Merlin at the shop?"

"Well, he came in at about eleven and didn't leave to run deliveries until three, and we ordered in from the Sandwich Shoppe, so...four hours?" Will scrunched up his nose and looked confused.

Maths cannot possibly be that difficult, Arthur thought, but then Merlin patted Will's shoulder and grinned, and Arthur switched his grip on Excalibur from writing to stabbing without thinking about it.

Will stood up and reached for his broom pointedly. "D'you need anything else? I have work to do."

"While Merlin was working, did you notice if he was in possession of a tin or spray can of paint any time?"

"No. He had nothing of the sort," Will said.

That was possibly the most useful thing he's said all day.

Arthur closed his file with a flourish. "Thank you very much." He slid the file into his briefcase and stood up. He turned to Merlin. "Gaius won't be back until after lunch, yes?"

Merlin nodded. "Yeah."

"Good. We should go get some lunch ourselves," Arthur said and started for the door.

Merlin nodded, then paused and patted his pockets, frowned. "I don't have any money. You go - I can just wait for Gaius to get back."

"I'm paying," Arthur said. "I'm the one who's keeping you away from work."

Will dropped one of the jars he was supposed to be putting on the shelves. Arthur tensed, ready for it to shatter and send glass and foul-smelling potion flying. But it didn't even hit the floor. Will turned. Arthur turned.

Merlin stood with one hand outstretched, and his eyes glowed golden. The jar flew up and settled itself on the shelf.

Arthur blinked, throat working. Merlin hadn't said a word.

Will reacted first. He leapt in front of Merlin, broomstick raised to beat Arthur back. "Don't you touch him, you filthy Pendragon! He was born this way and if you want to take him down to the registry you'll have to go through me."

For one moment, Arthur was sure he was going to stab Will through the eye with Excalibur after all. Then he relaxed, inexplicably, and looked at Will. He recognized the fierce protectiveness in Will's eyes, had felt it himself whenever he even considered the notion of Merlin in prison. Maybe Merlin was too kind and trusting for his own good - he had to be, if he put up with a thick berk like Will - but he wasn't a complete idiot, and if he could like Will, Arthur ought to be able to.

"Will," Arthur said, keeping his voice low and even, "I'm not going to turn Merlin into the registry. As the law stands, he's not required to register anyway."

"You're Uther Pendragon's son," Will spat.

"I am," Arthur said, "but I am Merlin's lawyer first and foremost, and he has committed no crime by being born with magic."

Will feinted at him with the broom.

Arthur didn't even flinch. "Will, I'm not going to hurt him. I promise you."

Merlin put a hand on Will's wrist. "He's telling the truth. I already told him about me. It's fine. I probably just - surprised him. He's likely not as used to it as you are."

"Are you sure?" Will asked. "He's a Pendragon."

"He's not his father," Merlin said, and Arthur felt his chest tighten at how gently Merlin said those words.

Arthur wasn't Uther Pendragon, but he'd been raised hearing his father's tirades against magic, and he wondered if he would be as sanguine about magic if he weren't so dizzyingly attracted to Merlin. He took a deep breath.

"We can bring you back something from lunch if you like," Arthur said to Will. "I know you can't leave the shop unattended."

Merlin tugged on Will's wrist once more, leaned in to whisper something Arthur couldn't hear. After a few more tense moments in which Arthur held himself perfectly still, Will lowered the broom.

Arthur couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so threatened by a piece of household cleaning equipment.

"You'd better not hurt him," Will said, and stabbed the broom in Arthur's direction.

Arthur side-stepped neatly. "Of course not," he said.

"Huh." Will looked Arthur up and down. "You're one of those toffs who took fencing at your fancy public school, aren't you?"

"I know my way around an epée, yes," Arthur said, which wasn't quite an answer, but he was a lawyer and it was in his nature to prevaricate once in a while.

"You could've beaten me senseless with my own broom in three seconds flat, couldn't you have?" Will eyed Arthur with something less than loathing since the first time they'd met.

Arthur shrugged. He sneaked a glance at Merlin, who wore an earnest, hopeful smile. It wasn't like Arthur had planned to deliberately be a rude prat, and he knew he shouldn't have let Will goad him, so he was at least partially at fault for the immaturity that had just abounded. But he certainly wasn't going to kiss and make up with Will. The thought of kissing Will turned his stomach. The thought of kissing that smile off of Merlin's face did other things to Arthur's stomach. He settled on manly neutrality. "What kind of sandwich would you like from the Shoppe?"

"I know what he likes," Merlin said, and Will nodded.

Arthur hated himself for the ugly flash of green jealousy that welled in his chest at how familiar Merlin and Will were with each other, but he comforted himself with the thought that he would be the one at the restaurant with Merlin and Will would be stuck at the shop, alone and sweeping floors, while Arthur had Merlin all to himself.

It was petty and childish, but it definitely made Arthur feel better.

Sitting opposite Merlin in the corner of a bustling restaurant, Arthur felt sure that everyone looking at them knew that they were on one of those secondary-school-pathetic one-sided dates. Everyone who glanced their way would see Merlin, munching on his sandwich and happily oblivious, and Arthur, dressed in his nicest suit and doing his best to be a gentleman and impress. And maybe Arthur was taking advantage of the fact that the only open table they found was so terribly small that they had to sit wedged up against the edges of the table, legs tangled together beneath so Arthur could feel the warmth of Merlin's knee against his thigh.

Arthur took a deep breath and sipped some of his coffee so he had something to do with his hands, something that wasn't curling his fingers with Merlin's.

"Did talking to Mordred and Will help?" Merlin asked.

Arthur nodded, sipped some more coffee to forestall comment when Merlin broke into one of his wide, sun-bright smiles.

"This is really good, by the way," Merlin said. "I like sandwiches. My mother always made the best ones for my lunches at school, but these run a close second. You'd love my mother's cooking, I think. There's nothing better than a mother's cooking." He paused. "Not, er, that I'm besmirching your father's cooking skills or anything."

Arthur arched an eyebrow. "'Besmirching'? That's a big word, Merlin."

"Says the man who looked at my year six IQ test results," Merlin said.

Arthur lifted his coffee cup in acknowledgment. "Touché. In reference to your previous conversational gaffe, however, no, my father never cooked for me while I was growing up. The cooks did it instead."

"That must have been hard," Merlin said.

"What, the army of servants who catered to my every whim?"

"Ah. Your pratliness is explained."

Arthur cast Merlin a look. "Merlin."

The mirth in Merlin's eyes dimmed, and he looked down at his hands. "I meant it must have been hard, growing up without a mother."

Usually people went out of their way to avoid mentioning the absence of Ygraine Pendragon from Uther and Arthur's lives. It seemed everyone knew of her but no one spoke of her. The last person who'd spoken of her so easily to Arthur who wasn't his father or Morgana had been a nanny. When Arthur was five, he had asked her about his mother, and the nanny only got as far as telling Arthur he looked liked his mother before his father happened upon the conversation and promptly sacked the woman. Arthur never had a chance to prove or disprove the woman's claim, for his father had purged the Pendragon house of all pictures of Ygraine before Arthur was old enough to ask to see them.

Trust Merlin to speak against common social courtesy.

Arthur took a deep breath. "I'm sure it was no more difficult than growing up without a father."

"I - I'm sorry," Merlin said. "I shouldn't have mentioned her. I didn't mean --"

"It's all right." Arthur shrugged. Then he gestured impatiently. "Are you going to finish that? I still need to speak to Gaius."

Merlin hunched his shoulders. "Sorry. I don't need to finish it."

Arthur sighed. When had he started caring whether he'd hurt his clients' feelings? "You do need to finish it - you look like a Dickensian waif. I don't want to have to face your mother and have her thinking I've been starving you. Eat."

"Are you sure?" Merlin asked. "Gaius --"

"Will be at the shop all day. Now eat."

While Merlin busied himself trying to bolt down the rest of his sandwich, Arthur pretended to check his email on his mobile. He was tempted, for one schoolgirl moment, to snap a picture of Merlin on his mobile, to have a candid shot of Merlin contented and happy instead of bewildered and indignant (which was how he looked in his mug shot in his file). Then Merlin said,

"Done!" and pushed his empty plate across the table for Arthur to see.

"Grand." Arthur pocketed his mobile and stood up. "Back to the shop, then. Don't forget Will's sandwich."

Just was Arthur was pulling the car up to the pavement outside of Gaius's shop, his mobile rang. He gritted his teeth at the ring tone. Only one person would have picked a ring tone so embarrassing, and that was Morgana. Every time she actually deigned to call (usually she sent rude, condescending text messages) Arthur regretted his policy of allowing his friends to choose their own ring tones.

Merlin was out of the car and halfway toward the shop, waving Will's sandwich aloft and indecorously hollering a greeting over the din of the afternoon shopping crowd before Arthur cut the engine. He fumbled for his mobile, trying to work his key free of the ignition.

"Morgana, I'm in the middle of pre-deposition interviews. What's going on?"

"It's Uther," Morgana began, and she sounded panicked, but it didn't matter, because just as she said it, Arthur saw his father's sleek black Rolls Royce parked across the street. "He's looking for you. He's furious. I don't know what made him snap. I think the others at the office have been keeping your counsel, but Tristan - he's still so new, and --"

"I've got it under control," Arthur said. "Thank you for trying to warn me." It was perhaps the most civil conversation he'd ever had with Morgana. He hung up and shoved his phone into his pocket, leapt out of the car. He loped down the pavement and yanked open the shop door.

"--Away from my son," Uther was saying, his eyes cold and fierce.

Many experienced litigators had quailed under his gaze, but Merlin, sweet, socially oblivious Merlin, just gazed at Uther like a defiant puppy.

"He's my lawyer," Merlin said. "We can't exactly work on my case if I never see him."

"Merlin," Gaius began, and Will stepped in front of Merlin, broom at the ready.

Arthur winced. Valiant, his Uther's bodyguard-chaffeur, could break Will with one hand.

"You will tell my son that you no longer require his services and you will retain new counsel immediately," Uther said. "I've seen what you have done to him, the way he has so ruthlessly pursued your cause, and I know it is unnatural. My son will not be tainted by the influence of magic."

Arthur wanted to call out, to draw his father away from the shop so they could air their family grievances in private, but something in Merlin's eyes stopped him. Merlin's puppy-defiance transformed into something else, something darker and fiercer than Arthur could ever have imagined Merlin possessed.

"It's too late for that, Uther Pendragon, and you know it," Merlin said. "But it's not my magic you're worried about, is it? It was Nimueh you went to for help with Ygraine, and that's why the statute is drafted the way it is."

"Merlin," Gaius said sharply, and Arthur felt his lungs constrict. No one said his mother's name aloud. The way Merlin said it, as if he had known her - what was going on?

"You've escaped registry and regulation for now, but that won't last forever," Uther said. "I'm warning you, boy, stay away from my son --"

"Father," Arthur said loudly.

Uther fell silent. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

Arthur summoned his best courtroom mien. "I have confidential information to discuss with my client. If you would be so kind --"

Uther took a step forward. Arthur refused to take a step back.

"You have no idea what fire you're playing with," Uther said, his voice soft, icy, and more dangerous than Arthur had ever heard it before.

Arthur had the sudden urge to tell his father that if, for once, his father would just tell him about what happened with his mother and magic that made magic so dangerous, Arthur might actually listen to him. But Uther didn't know that Arthur knew, and --

Arthur planted his feet. "I am doing business on behalf of my client," he said, voice equally soft, but firm. "If you would excuse us." And he turned, beckoned to Merlin.

The muscle in Uther's jaw worked as he stared at his son, and then he spun on his heel, strode out of the shop. Valiant smirked at Arthur, and then, like the childish prat he was, scooped a glass jar off the nearest shelf and lobbed it across the shop.

"Catch," he said, and ducked out the door.

Arthur snatched the jar out of the air, the gesture reflexive. Merlin lunged.

"You bastard!" he shouted, and Arthur spun around, surprised.

"Hey," he protested, "I caught the bloody thing."

But Merlin was running for the door. Gaius, moving with surprising speed for a man his age, charged after Merlin and dragged him back.

"Are you mad, Merlin? That man could take you apart with one blow."

"I could take him apart with less," Merlin snarled, twisting in Gaius's grasp like a kitten whose mother had him by the neck. "That was him! I recognized his voice - the man who was wearing the balaclava and had the tin of spray paint."

Arthur's eyes widened, and he dashed toward the door, Will hot on his heels. They were too late - Uther and Valiant were already gone. Arthur spun around and crossed the shop to where Gaius was trying to calm Merlin down.

Arthur caught Merlin by the shoulder and tugged him around so they were face-to-face. "Are you absolutely sure that was the voice of the man who framed you?"

"Yes!" Merlin cried. "I'd never forget that voice."

"Would you swear to it in court?"

"Yes!"

Arthur nodded decisively. "I'm so sorry, Gaius, may we reschedule? Merlin and I have an affidavit to swear out."

Gaius nodded. "Of course."

Arthur dragged Merlin out of the shop. "Come on. We need to get back to the office."

"Arthur," Tristan began as Arthur swept through the double doors beyond the secretary's desk, Merlin in tow, "I'm so very sorry, I had no idea your father intended to --"

"Your apology will be accepted later, Tristan," Arthur said. "Merlin and I have just broken our case open wide and need to do some very important work. Send in one of the notaries when you get the chance, will you?"

And Arthur bundled Merlin into his office, locked the door, shut the blinds, and turned on the lights. Then he scrambled to boot up his laptop. Merlin had been hopping mad at Valiant for half of the ride there and had been all for going straight downtown to Pendragon tower and having it out with Valiant in the middle of the law office. He eventually calmed down some and was now standing beside Arthur's desk, looking utterly bemused.

"You'd think you were the client and my recognizing Valiant would bring your ensured continued freedom," Merlin said.

Arthur flung himself down in his chair and began to click through the files on his desktop, looking for a template of an affidavit. Merlin remained standing, watching, amused.

Arthur said, distracted, "Sit. And write. Everything you remember about your first encounter with Valiant and then recognizing him today in Gaius's shop. Every single detail counts."

Merlin sat down opposite him. "Do you think I could borrow a pen and some paper?"

Arthur pushed a coffee mug full of pens toward him. "There's probably a spare legal pad in the stack of files on the chair in the corner."

"So do you finally believe that I'm innocent?" Merlin asked.

Arthur paused in his file-hunting and lifted his head. He studied Merlin's expression for a long time, and then realization unfurled in his chest. Arthur took a deep breath.

"Well?" Merlin asked.

"I think," Arthur said, "somewhere, deep inside, I always knew." Or maybe Merlin has been beautiful since the beginning, honey to your pathetic fly, a part of Arthur's brain supplied. He swallowed hard and pushed the thought aside.

"Do you think my recognizing Valiant, doing all of this --" Merlin gestured at Arthur's open laptop -- "will really make a difference at trial?"

"Of course," Arthur began, affronted that Merlin doubted his trial skills, but then Merlin shook his head.

"Let me rephrase. Do you think we'll win?"

"We will," Arthur said, "because I am Arthur Pendragon and you are innocent."

Amusement curled at the corners of Merlin's mouth. "I see my innocence, once again, comes second to your ego."

Arthur couldn't help but smile back. "In the law, my skill trumps whatever puppy-dog earnestness you can summon in court for all the little old ladies on the jury."

Merlin raised his eyebrows, leaned in. "Why do you constantly phrase your descriptions of me in terms of fluffy, baby animals? Next you'll be calling me a baby seal and threatening to club me over the head."

"It's the way you smile - your blue, blue eyes and the way they crinkle at the corners, not to mention your delicate cheekbones, and how slender you are. You just look - like you need protecting. And my natural sense of masculine chivalry responds to that, obviously," Arthur said, and they were getting rather derailed from their original purpose.

A blank affidavit form blinked on Arthur's laptop screen. Merlin had a pen to write with but nothing to write on.

"Natural chivalry is so rare in modern men," Merlin said.

"You would know about being rare," Arthur said, and suddenly he realized just how close they were, so close that Arthur could count Merlin's eyelashes where they fluttered against his cheeks when he blinked, so close that all it would take was one small tilt of the head and they would be kissing.

Arthur swallowed hard and gripped the edges of his desk, tugged himself backwards. "You should write. Affidavits don't write themselves."

Merlin's face was flushed as he nodded and sat back, and Arthur was struck with the sudden realization that the tingling in his lips was because Merlin was staring at his mouth and wanted to kiss him too.

"Of course," Merlin said, his voice low and hoarse with lust, "I should write."

Arthur fiddled with his laptop for a moment longer. Abruptly, he stood up. "I'm going to get us some coffee. I'll be back."

When he returned later from fetching coffee and accepting Tristan's apology, he left his door open just enough that he wouldn't be tempted to misbehave. Much.

Arthur sat at his desk, staring at the deposition request he'd drafted. He was half tempted to tell Tristan the office runners were all out and ask Tristan to deliver the request to the Pendragon offices himself, but he'd technically accepted Tristan's apology and it wouldn't do to keep punishing the poor lad for being so utterly afraid of Uther Pendragon.

A knock at the door startled him out of his contemplation, and he lifted his head. When he saw who it was, he grinned. "Leon! How was annual training out there in Mercia?"

"Fascinating, as usual," he said. "I have videos of some of the best defense openings and closings a lawyer can give. We need to round up the others and break out the popcorn - all in the effort of team improvement, of course." Leon grinned back at him. "I hear the case you're running for old man Drake is quite the talk of the courthouse. Fights with your father and everything over a graffiti charge? You Pendragons are drama queens, the lot of you."

"Is that all they told you?" Arthur asked. The humor in Leon's expression was genuine, and Arthur hated to bring his friend's mood down. Leon had graduated from law school one year ahead of Arthur, and of all the lads in the office, Arthur trusted him the most.

Leon frowned. "It's open and shut, isn't it? You win this case, Drake takes you on, you take over Pendragon when your father retires at fifty-five."

"My client is a mage," Arthur said.

Leon closed the door and crossed the room. "Is that why your father's so upset?"

"He tried to get me thrown off the case. When I refused to recuse myself, he bullied one of the new lawyers into filing a motion to withdraw on my behalf," Arthur said. "The other day he came around and tried to threaten Merlin into cutting me loose and seeking new counsel."

Leon raised his eyebrows. "Merlin?"

Arthur winced internally. He wasn't usually on a first-name basis with his clients. He usually didn't know their names at all. "My client. Merlin Emrys." If he were any other client, he would have been that class IV felony graffiti.

"Not the lad from Morgana's odd knitting circle thing?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Morgana's in a knitting circle? The only thing she knows how to do with knitting needles is stab people." On the other hand, he could picture Merlin in a knitting circle. He did wear those ridiculous bohemian scarves, after all. Arthur could just imagine it, Merlin sitting cross-legged on a chair with a circle of women, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he worked a pair of needles determinedly.

The image of Merlin and his mouth and tongue was enough to derail Arthur's original train of thought.

Leon dragged him back to the present. "Morgana goes to some support group or other, and apparently this Merlin fellow is part of it. I don't actually know what they do - it's rather new age for my taste. But she's mentioned him from time to time."

At Arthur's scowl, Leon backtracked. "Not that I think they're dating or anything of the like."

It was common knowledge among the Knights of the Round Table that, though Arthur and Morgana might verbally tear each other to shreds, any man fool enough to make a move on Morgana anywhere even in Arthur's vaguest vicinity would be a corpse in three seconds flat.

"No, I don't think they're dating. Merlin's not that into girls, best as I can tell," Arthur said.

"And you'd know that how?" Leon asked.

Arthur just looked at him.

Leon swore. "Are you out of your bloody mind? You'll get thrown off his case and permanently disbarred and --"

"We haven't done anything, Leon." Arthur pressed his lips into a thin line. As an afterthought, he reached out and picked up Excalibur, turned it over in his hands slowly, deliberately. "I've been nothing but consummately professional for the entirety of this case. But - I want to. Do something. And I know he does too."

"Is that why you're fighting your father on this so much?" Leon asked. "Mages are dangerous, and you know it. If a low-level felony is the only way to get a mage under control --"

"Merlin's not like that," Arthur said. "He's not the sort of person you'd need to control. He's a human being who happened to be born with a natural talent. And I'm not deliberately fighting my father - Merlin is my client, and my father's political proclivities have no bearing on my case."

"Arthur, you don't like magic either." Leon sank down in the chair opposite Arthur and sighed. "Does this Merlin character have you under a spell?"

Arthur laughed. "You've never met Merlin if you could possibly think him that devious. If he does have me under a spell, it's no different than the spell your lady love has you under."

Leon blushed, and Arthur laughed some more. Then he sobered. "At first, this was about winning the case for Drake, but now - it's turned into something else entirely, something out of my control."

"Are you going to see it through?"

"I'm Arthur Pendragon. When have you ever seen me back down from a fight?"

"What's your game plan, then?"

"You want in as second chair on the trial or something?" Arthur reached for the deposition request and stared at it. Then he uncapped Excalibur and signed it.

"Did old man Drake say that you had to win the case on your own?" Leon asked.

Arthur shook his head. "No, but it was pretty obviously implied. Merlin's innocent, anyway. I need to speak to a few more witnesses, subpoena some more evidence, and then we're ready to go."

"Arthur, you and I both know that the actual innocence of a client is of little concern unless you have solid proof of the other perpetrator," Leon said.

"I do have solid proof," Arthur said. "I just need to depose my father's favorite bodyguard to get it."

Leon swore again. "You are mad! Valiant? He'd tear you apart in two seconds flat."

"In the fencing gallery, maybe. He's not the sharpest tack in the box, though." Arthur set the deposition request in his outbox and reached for his phone to page one of the secretaries.

Leon stayed his hand. "You want to take on your own father directly? Is this Merlin kid worth it?"

"My career is worth it," Arthur said flatly.

Leon caught his gaze, held it. "We both know this isn't really about your career anymore, don't we?"

Arthur yanked his hand free, sat back. "Tell me, Leon, why does my father hate magic?"

Leon's gaze slid away. "He doesn't like to talk about it."

"Magic killed my mother, didn't it?"

Leon's gaze snapped back to Arthur. "How did you find out?"

"I booked my research section as a 1L - I've been a naturally good researcher since I was a child," Arthur said. Leon frowned at Arthur's abrupt tone. Arthur sighed, ducked his head in apology. "Newspaper archives. My father couldn't destroy everything about my mother. I couldn't find all the details, though, because he suppressed those."

"Then you understand your father's position." Leon folded his hands in his lap.

"Hardly, seeing how he never told me himself. Best as I know, her death was an accident," Arthur said. "Of course, when he finally deigned to tell me himself that my mother died of magic it was in front of Judge O'Cara so he could get me thrown off the case."

Leon winced.

"I've always known my father was ruthless," Arthur said quietly.

"So you're going to be ruthless right back?" Leon asked.

"At least I'll be honest about my fight." Arthur stared down at his hands for a long moment. How had everything come to this? It was supposed to be a straightforward misdemeanor case, an easy win, and a new job. Now it was wanting to kiss Merlin every second of every day, family politics, and the risk of Arthur's entire career going down in flames.

Always with the flames.

"Well." Leon stood up abruptly. "Are you going to do it, then?"

"Do what?"

"Win this case."

Arthur gazed up at his friend for a long moment, and then he pushed himself to his feet. He fished the deposition request out of his outbox and reached for his jacket. "Of course I'm going to win. I'm Arthur Pendragon. Now come on - I'll buy you drinks after."

"After what?" Leon asked, but he followed Arthur to the door anyway.

"After we deliver this deposition request to my father."'

"In person?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Arthur was in Aredian's office bringing over boxes of discovery material - he'd corralled Tristan and Erec into helping him - when Uther Pendragon arrived. (Leon had been surprised and then amused, two days before, when Arthur managed to get one of the junior associates to let Arthur depose Valiant while Uther was away at an important business lunch. One of the other junior associates had even acted as Valiant's representation during the entire affair, so it was decidedly legal.)

Aredian stood just inside the door, a muscle in his jaw twitching, as Tristan and Erec trooped back and forth, bringing boxes and boxes of evidence. (Most of the boxes contained old-fashioned VHS tapes of security footage from every single store in town that sold the type of spray paint used at the crime; Arthur had convinced one of the techies at the law library to convert the footage onto DVDs for his own convenience before he turned the lot over to Aredian.)

"This is everything you requested in your discovery papers," Arthur said. Aredian had drafted his discovery motion quite thoroughly, to the degree that Arthur had been required to give up more than the usual minimum he got away with. In retaliation, Arthur had drafted a discovery motion that demanded Brady evidence and then everything else Arthur could think of. He had corralled Tristan into going over most of it, but by this point, Arthur had built his case quite solidly, and he knew what he was going to do.

"Are you sure that is quite everything, Mr. Pendragon?" Aredian asked.

Arthur jammed his hands in his pockets, cocked his head, the gesture deliberate and cocky, and he heard Aredian hiss in a deep, annoyed breath. "Erec, is that Tristan struggling up the stairs with another box? Do be a chap and give him a hand."

Erec shot Arthur a look that promised him drunken toothpick umbrella duels at the bar later, but then he loped off to help Tristan with the last box. They were affidavits of the employees of all the stores in town that sold the same spray paint used in the crime. Tristan set the box on the overcrowded conference room table and stepped back, straightened his tie.

Ran into Uther Pendragon.

Uther stood in the doorway, eyes blazing. He held himself imperiously tall and wore his Armani suit like battle armor, and even Aredian blinked at Uther's sudden arrival.

Uther had Arthur's deposition request in one hand.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Erec, Aredian, and Tristan cleared out without being asked. Tristan closed the door.

"I followed a lead on a case, that's all," Arthur said.

Uther crossed the room in two strides and was looming over Arthur as best as he could, given that Arthur was an inch taller than him. "You think that I would deliberately set that boy up?"

"I think that you despise magic so much that it clouds your judgment, and Valiant is as his name suggests, so perhaps he took a cue from you." Arthur had discovered, in his deposition of Valiant, that Valiant had gotten into a bar brawl with Will that had ended when Merlin had intervened. Given that Merlin was about a third Valiant's size and eminently breakable, there was only one way the fight could have ended, and Valiant was the sort who would see use of magic in a bar fight as cheating.

"You know nothing of magic and the destruction it can cause," Uther said. His voice was icy, furious, more furious than the time Arthur almost got himself kicked out of boarding school for drunken carousing with townie girls.

"All I know is that you hate it and you've spent your entire life dedicated to stamping it out," Arthur said. He met his father's gaze and refused to step back. "I know that my mother died as a result of magic, and ever since you've been too heartbroken to see straight."

"You know nothing of how your mother died," Uther roared, but his voice shook, and something bleak lit in his eyes.

Arthur felt something in his chest clench. What the hell was he doing to his father? "If that's so, it's only because you never told me. I had to find out from a bloody newspaper when I was thirteen."

Uther blanched. "Then you knew - that day in O'Cara's office -"

"Yes, I knew. And it was utterly callous of you to bring it up like that, what with you assuming I didn't know." Arthur felt his hands clench into fists.

"You don't understand," Uther said. "You have to step back from this case and let nature take its course. Magic is unnatural, and this Merlin Emrys and others like him should be forced out of the gene pool and locked away to protect the public."

Arthur resisted the urge to tell his father that Merlin was already out of the gene pool, and it had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with the way he made Arthur's breath catch in his throat whenever they were in the same room.

"This is what they want, don't you see?" Uther went on. "Those mages know I oppose them, and they seek to destroy both of us, destroy the alliance we can build with our political capital and -"

"What alliance?" Arthur asked. "I was always afraid of magic growing up, yes, but I don't hate it, not like you do. After all, my mother died in an accident, didn't she?"

"Who told you that?"

"As I said, I looked it up in a newspaper when I was thirteen," Arthur said. When he was away at school and out from under his father's prying eyes, he'd taken the first chance he had to find out. "Imagine my disappointment when the newspaper article didn't even have a picture of her."

Something in Uther's gaze fractured.

"Someone once told me that I look like her," Arthur said. "Is that true?"

Uther swallowed hard. "Arthur - you're my son. I've only done what's best to protect you."

"Maybe there are some things I don't need protection from."

Uther pressed his fist to his mouth, lowered his gaze, swallowed hard. "Arthur, what happened to your mother was no accident. The police couldn't be bothered to find the truth, but by then the mage had escaped."

"Whether or not it was an accident, Merlin isn't the one who killed her," Arthur said.

Uther's head came up, and fire blazed in his eyes once more. "All mages are the same, laden with the same deception and hunger for power, destruction. Have you been deceived, then, by his child-like face, his bright blue eyes? She had blue eyes, you know."

"My mother?"

"The mage who killed her."

Arthur remembered the picture of her. He'd always thought she looked more like Morgana than Merlin, but then all three of them looked oddly similar, what with the pale skin and the dark hair and the blue, blue eyes.

"Merlin is not that mage," Arthur said.

"But he would take you from me as surely as Nimueh took Ygraine from me." Uther closed his eyes.

Nimueh. The woman who had killed his mother. Ygraine. The first time Arthur had ever heard his father say her name aloud.

Arthur shook his head. "No, Father. This isn't about Merlin. He has not enchanted me or anything of the sort --"

"What would you know about it?"

"I know that he's a human being!" Arthur cried. "I know that he struggles to make ends meet and he had a hard time growing up without a father, far worse a time than I had growing up without a mother. I know he wants to help people and that he wants nothing more than simple justice granted regardless of whether he has magic." Arthur faltered and took a step back. "Father, you taught me, above all else, to uphold justice and the law. Justice demands that a man innocent of a crime be allowed to go free."

Uther opened his eyes. "If you insist on continuing in this matter, I will be forced to disown you."

"If you try one more time to stop me from doing my job, I will no longer consider myself your son," Arthur said, and his blood ran cold. What had he just done? He wanted to take it back, apologize, beg for his father to see sense, but Uther's expression was unmoving, unrelenting, and Arthur's instinctual reaction was to meet his father's gaze and hold his ground.

They were too alike, father and son.

As of this moment, they were no longer father and son.

A soft gasp broke the battle of wills between the two men.

Morgana stood just inside the doorway. Her eyes were wide and she had one hand presssed to her throat.

"Uther," she began, but he spun on his heel and left the room. Morgana started to follow him, faltered, paused. She turned back to Arthur. "What have you done?"

"Isn't this what you wanted?" Arthur asked. "For me to do everything I could to ensure Aredian's bigotry is brought to a halt?" It was cruel, to throw her words back in her face like that, but Arthur was tired, drained from fighting against Uther, against everything he had been raised to believe, against his feelings for Merlin.

"Arthur, please," Morgana began, but he shook his head.

"No. If he disowns me, then my earning a place in Drake's firm is crucial. I have to win this case. Good day." Arthur strode past her and out of the room.

"You haven't answered my calls the last few days," Merlin said.

Arthur looked up from where he'd been trying to string together a coherent direct examination of Gaius. "Didn't Tristan pass on the message? We've had a sudden influx of evidence."

"It went well, the whole thing with Valiant, then?"

"I got what I needed out of him," Arthur said. "Just show up for court looking like your usual adorable self and I'll make sure to land a sufficient number of gullible old ladies on the jury."

Merlin closed the door softly, shut the blinds. "You look tired."

"I am tired. I've poured most of my energy into this case and poor Tristan has taken over my other cases. Those clients, of course, were sensible enough to plea." Arthur scrubbed a hand over his eyes. "Did you have some pressing new information for me?"

"It's just - I wasn't sure what to do with myself, without you hovering over my shoulder telling me what an idiot I am." Merlin smiled gently. "I wanted to make sure you were all right."

Arthur arched an eyebrow at him. "Morgana didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Merlin asked, but a tell-tale blush stole across his cheeks.

Jealousy, green-eyed and irrational, began to worm its way up Arthur's throat. "Does she tell you everything about me?"

"No." Merlin shook his head vehemently, but he was a terrible liar and looked fairly guilty. "She might have hinted that you and your father had had a row, possibly over me and my case, but -"

"Then she didn't tell you he effectively disowned me."

Merlin looked stricken, but he took one look at Arthur's face and knew better than to bring it up. He swallowed hard. "It's a good thing you'll have a spot at Drake's firm then, isn't it?"

"That's one way to look at it." Arthur didn't want to think about his father, about Uther, about the utter mess his life had become since the day he'd received the call from old man Drake. Win your next case, Drake had said. Too bad it hadn't come with the caveat, Lose your sanity.

"Morgana said it was a terrible argument," Merlin said. He bit his lip. "I'm sorry. I'd understand if you wanted to step down as my lawyer." He shook his head. "I didn't mean for this to happen to you and your family. Morgana said your father hated magic, and yeah, I'd heard his speeches on the telly, but I never thought you'd go this far. She said you were a prat, but she said you'd fight hard."

"Merlin, I'd really rather not talk about this right now."

Merlin nodded, eyes wide and earnest. "Morgana did say you're awful about talking about your feelings but that I should get you to talk about them anyway, because it'll do you a world of good --"

"I really don't want to talk about Uther Pendragon."

"But Morgana said you'd need to talk, that this case is stressing you out, and I can't help but think that it's my fault."

Arthur's stress over the case was Merlin's fault all right, but it was easier to subsume the stress of his broken relationship with his father under the other stresses of the case. Arthur couldn't remember the last time he had been so relieved that his life was so full of stress. It was a terrible paradox of the mind.

He stood up and went around his desk to stand in front of Merlin. "What, precisely, has Morgana told you about me?"

"Usually she talks about what a right prat you are, how you're arrogant and stuck up and far too aware of how good-looking you are," Merlin said, and he was starting to babble the way Gwen did.

Arthur stepped closer to Merlin. "Did she tell you that, all those times my father caught me stumbling drunkenly out of a club with a supermodel, it was to cover up that I'd been dancing with pretty boys?"

Merlin took a step back. "No."

"Did she tell you that even though she used to be able to beat me at fencing, I could beat her at a contest of wills every time and once went five days without eating just to prove it to her?" Arthur stepped closer to Merlin.

Merlin took a step back. "No."

"Did she tell you that, even though I find you utterly intoxicating and am practically drunk off the scent of your skin, I will never, ever taste you because it's against everything I've ever ethically known?" Arthur stepped closer to Merlin.

Merlin took a step back and crashed into the door. "No."

Arthur stepped forward, pinned Merlin in place with his body, one hand on either side of Merlin's head. "Did she tell you that I spend every waking moment of every day wondering what it would be like to have you in my arms, feel your skin against mine?"

Merlin bit his lip, shook his head wordlessly.

Arthur leaned in even closer, gaze fixed on the pink lushness that was Merlin's mouth. He hovered there for a moment, breathing with Merlin, feeling each little hitch in Merlin's chest as he tried to remember the proper rhythm of inhale, exhale. If one of them moved, they would be kissing.

"Did she tell you that I have nothing left but to win this case?"

"No," Merlin whispered, and they were so close that Arthur could almost taste the word on his lips.

He closed his eyes.

"Arthur," Merlin breathed. It was half a plea, half a question.

Arthur growled and forced himself to step back, turn away. "Don't worry, Merlin. I'm going to win your case. We should meet in a couple of days, you and me, to prep for trial. I'll need to see Will, Gaius, and your mother as well. Separately, of course. Can't have the witnesses tainted."

Merlin moaned. "Morgana did always say you were cruel, but I never thought anyone could be, not like this."

Arthur glanced over his shoulder and saw how Merlin was flushed and breathing hard, plastered against the door to keep himself upright. Guiltily, he filed the image away for later. "Leon mentioned that you knew Morgana through some curious club, which he rather derisively called a knitting circle."

"It's not a knitting circle," Merlin protested, but his tone was half-hearted at best.

"Then what is it?" Arthur asked.

Merlin looked away from him. "Maybe you should ask Morgana."

Arthur went to stand before Merlin once more. "I will tell you this: if we were to ever consummate what I started just now, her name would be the farthest thing from your mind."

Merlin's brow furrowed. "Are you jealous of how well I know Morgana?"

"Hardly," Arthur said. If he had energy, he might have summoned some for jealousy, but anymore he just wanted this case done and over with. He made a mental note to send a quick email to old man Drake so he would know when the trial dates were. After all Arthur had gone through for this case, Drake had better show up to watch.

"Are you all right?" Merlin asked. He straightened up, smoothed down his clothes absently, fixed his scarf.

Arthur had one brief, dizzying vision of tying Merlin up with that scarf, possibly to the bookcase in the corner or maybe even Arthur's own office chair --

"I'm fine," he said, a little too loudly. "You should go. Before Leon thinks I'm roundly getting myself disbarred."

"Leon knows about us?" Merlin looked alarmed. The stark vulnerability in his expression made Arthur want to pull Merlin into his arms and shield him from all the horrors of the world. Then he mentally castigated himself for being such a girl.

"There's nothing about us to know," Arthur said. "Really. Go. I'll call about trial prep."

"If you're sure." Merlin reached for the doorknob.

"I'm sure," Arthur said. He sank down in his chair and waved a hand dismissively. "Go."

Merlin left.

A moment later, the door opened, and Kay poked his head into the room.

"Was that Merlin just now?"

"Yes. Did you need something?"

"I wanted to talk to Merlin as well," Kay said. "The other Knights mentioned something about having a bit of a pre-trial bash down at the bar. Said to invite Merlin and Gwen and maybe even Morgana."

"Owen just wants a date with Morgana," Arthur muttered. "I don't think getting drunk the day before trial begins is entirely appropriate."

"Come on," Kay said, "you'll have all of voir dire to sober up."

Arthur glared. "Fine. Just - no strippers. Please. Gwen's a nice girl. Now get out of my office."

Kay laughed and ducked out. "Yes, your highness."

Chapter Text

Arthur spent an inordinate amount of time that night with his guitar, singing depressing James Morrison love songs and sighing like a teenage girl, or possibly Morgana during her secondary school portrayal of Juliet (she had been very put out at not being able to play Mercutio, who got all the dirty lines and the best sword fights). He ordered out for Chinese again to make himself feel better, and then spent far too long fencing against uppity uni boys online. Those uni boys had no chance - Arthur had been fencing champion all through secondary school and uni as well. The only one who'd ever had a chance against him was Leon.

Once Arthur had worked all of the tension out of his system, he plopped down on his couch with his briefcase open on one knee and set about building his case. As much as he liked to keep home life and work life separate, he did his best case work at home. Or rather, he worked best when Erec and Kay weren't around to mock his methods. Arthur knew that his methods were...unique, but they had always worked for him and he believed in sticking to tried and true practices. Tristan had looked at him like he was insane when he'd demanded photocopies of all of opposing counsel's witness's depositions, but Arthur knew what he was doing.

He set a kettle heating on the stove, then pushed the coffee table out of the way. He left the briefcase and paperwork on the couch, then fetched a pair of scissors. And began to cut up every single deposition, sentence by sentence. Owen had once accused him of making a collage out of the depositions.

An hour later, Arthur paused and flexed his hand to work out the cramp from all the cutting. He refilled the kettle and rinsed his mug. After a few moments, Arthur scooped up his mobile and opened his contacts list, scrolled down to Merlin's number. He had to stop himself before he hit the call button, and he sighed, scrubbed a hand over his face. Based on the time flashing on the microwave clock, he'd managed to go a full four hours without thinking of Merlin in any way that wasn't case related.

Then Arthur's mobile rang. He picked it up, checked the screen. The number was unfamiliar.

Arthur pressed ignore.

The mobile rang again. The same unfamiliar number.

Arthur pressed ignore.

A text message pinged. It's me, Merlin. Answer your bloody phone. I know you're home. Your lights are on.

Arthur started, crossed his flat to his window, but his flat was too high up for him to see the street properly. His mobile rang. He answered it.

"When did you get a mobile?"

"Good evening to you, too," Merlin said.

"Why are you outside my flat? Do you know how dangerous it is in the city in the middle of the night?"

"I'm pretty sure that the only danger at this point is from your doorman, who's looking at me like I'm chewing gum on the bottom of his shoe," Merlin said. "Will you come down and let me in, please? It's a bit cold out here. And it's raining."

"You're probably not wearing a proper coat." Arthur sighed. "Look, you should be in bed. Asleep. So you can play chess with Mordred tomorrow."

"Arthur, hurry it up," Merlin said.

If Arthur were feeling cruel, he might have accused Merlin of whining like a girl. He took a deep breath. "You know this is a terrible idea." But he found himself pressing the buzzer, signaling the doorman to let Merlin up. "We shouldn't be alone together."

"Look, I can't sleep, and Will's out with his girlfriend and - you work better when I help you, right?"

Arthur listened to the elevator music in the background of the call, heard the elevator ping, and then went to open his door. He closed his mobile. Merlin stood in the hallway, holding his mobile. He grinned and shoved it into his pocket.

"Good evening. My mum sends some of her homemade bread." He held up a basket.

The scent of fresh bed reminded Arthur that it had been a while since he'd eaten.

"Come in," Arthur said and stepped back warily.

Merlin toed off his sneakers and stepped over the threshold, surveyed Arthur's flat with wide eyes. "Wow. This is pretty fancy for a public defender."

"I inherited some money from my mother," Arthur said stiffly. "I invested it well."

Merlin shrugged. "I wasn't judging. It's just - nicer than I thought it would be."

"Did you think I lived in some sort of hole on the north side?" Arthur asked.

"I wasn't sure," Merlin confessed. "I think I thought your place might be a bit - frat-boy like. But it's decorated like out of a magazine."

"You spend a lot of time looking at home décor magazines?" Arthur asked. He closed the door and headed into the kitchen.

"Says the man who knows the word décor." Merlin grinned cheekily. "Where shall I put this?"

Arthur gestured toward the center island. "Over there is fine. Would you like any tea?"

"Sure." Merlin plopped down on one of the barstools at the island, set down the basket. "So, what are you working on?"

"Cross examinations," Arthur said. "I was just taking a tea break."

"What can I do to help?"

Arthur took a deep breath and studied Merlin from across the kitchen. Merlin's expression was open and honest, friendly. Having Merlin in his flat, this close, with no one around to see a thing was so, so dangerous.

Merlin sighed. "Look, I'm not going to - to throw you against the wall and ravish you or anything."

Arthur turned bright red. "Merlin!"

Merlin blushed and clapped a hand over his mouth. "I didn't mean it like that. I just -- I'm here to help. With my case. I know I've been an awful bother, and I want to make up for it." His blue eyes were wide and earnest.

Arthur busied himself fixing two mugs of tea. "All right. I could use some help. Just - take a seat somewhere in the den and don't touch anything. I'll be there in a moment."

"Right." Merlin hopped off the stool and sauntered into the den. He came up short when he saw the slips of paper littering the carpet. "Did you, er, lose your temper at some of the paperwork?" He peered closer. "You lose your temper so neatly."

"There's a spare pair of scissors in my briefcase," Arthur said. "You can use them."

"So...how does this work?" Merlin asked when Arthur set the mugs of tea on the coffee table.

Arthur handed him one of the police officer's depositions. "Don't mix this up with the others. I want you to cut it up into small strips - sentence by sentence, understand? And then separate them into categories. So...when he talks about interviewing you, that's one category. And then here, when he talks about investigating the scene - that's another category."

Merlin stared at the scissors, then at the deposition. "You want me to...chop it up?"

"Yes," Arthur said. At Merlin's bewildered expression, Arthur sighed. "It's a photocopy. It's all right to chop it up."

"Okay," Merlin said, and began cutting.

Half an hour later, three more depositions had been sliced and diced and sorted into little paper piles.

"Now what?" Merlin asked.

"Now...I write my cross," Arthur said.

"Oh. What do I do?" Merlin watched Arthur rearrange the mess of papers on the couch, boot up his laptop.

"You could keep cutting, which would be helpful," Arthur said. He gestured toward the rosewood entertainment center along the other wall. "You could watch a DVD if you like. There's nothing good on the telly this late at night."

Merlin stood up and stretched. The hem of his shirt rode up, revealing a strip of pale, soft skin. Arthur forced himself to look away and concentrated on typing his laptop password. He misspelled it three times.

"Ooh!" Merlin tugged something off of the shelf. "You have Interstate 60? I love this film. I'm surprised you don't have every single Die Hard or whatever."

"If you poke round past the James Bond collection, you'll find my copy of Amélie," Arthur said absently.

Merlin hummed happily and poked some more. "You have surprisingly good taste in films. So, which would you prefer in the background, Hedwig and the Angry Inch or Bedrooms and Hallways?"

Arthur lifted his head, alarmed. "Where did you find those?"

"Heights?" Merlin asked, poking some more. "Do you have a crush on James Mardsen?"

"No. He has nice blue eyes and he can sing," Arthur muttered. "Look, if you're going to go James Marsden, at least put in 27 Dresses."

"I think I misjudged you," Merlin said. "All this time, I've thought you were one of those insensitive footy blokes who's thick-necked and stupid, but secretly you're a school-girl who has a weakness for blue eyes and pretty cheekbones."

Arthur arched an eyebrow at him.

Merlin arched an eyebrow right back at him, clearly confused.

Then Arthur shrugged and said, "Why yes, I do have a weakness for blue eyes and pretty cheekbones."

That earned a roll of the eyes. "You're an egotistical prat, aren't you?"

Arthur sighed, frustrated. "Have you looked in the mirror lately, Merlin?"

Merlin paused, likely replaying the last exchange between them, and then he blushed when realization hit. Arthur let go of a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding; that was the closest he'd come to openly acknowledging his attraction to Merlin in something approaching casual conversation, and nothing disastrous had come of it. Good.

Merlin poked through the DVDs some more. "Sword in the Stone it is, then. I can't believe you have this film. Did your friends call you The Wart growing up?"

"None of them would have dared," Arthur said. He began poking through the slips of paper. "I'm working now. You'll have to entertain yourself."

Merlin curled up on the other send of the couch, crowing over his possession of the remote control. Arthur glanced at him over the top of his screen and smiled. Then he set to typing.

Merlin had a fairly terrible singing voice. Arthur had been told his singing voice was pleasant, but he'd been raised with the common decency not to sing in public unless it was a designated performance. Merlin had not been raised with any such decency and sang along to every single one of the songs in The Sword in the Stone. Arthur would, if pressed, grudgingly admit that Merlin had a fantastic memory for knowing the lyrics to all of the songs. He would be less likely to admit that the joy on Merlin's face as the cartoon played out made Arthur feel warm and possibly a little mushy inside.

As soon as the film was done, Merlin turned off the television and put the DVD away (which made Arthur smile, because it annoyed him when people left the television on and humming long after the film ended). Then he planted himself in front of Arthur.

"It's time for a study break," he said.

"Not studying. Writing." Arthur flipped through several slips of paper and set off typing questions once more.

"Then a writing break." Merlin reached out and tugged on Arthur's wrist, causing him to grievously misspell three words.

Arthur's breath hitched in his chest, for Merlin's hand was warm and dry. He looked up at Merlin, eyes wide, and Merlin snatched his hand back.

"Sorry," he said, blushing. He retreated toward the kitchen. "D'you have any butter or jam or anything?"

"In the door in the fridge," Arthur said. He saved the cross examination he was working on and closed his laptop, stood up and stretched. As he tugged the hem of his shirt down, he glanced over his shoulder at saw Merlin staring at him. The heat in his eyes was unmistakable. Arthur headed into the kitchen and stood beside Merlin, careful to keep a safe distance between them. If Merlin touched him right then, he wasn't sure what he would do. A single brush of Merlin's hand, and... "What do you need butter and jam for?"

"I want to eat some of the bread," Merlin said, gesturing toward the basket.

Hunith's bread. Arthur's stomach rumbled.

Merlin grinned at him. "Apparently you want to eat some of it too." He poked in the fridge. "Raspberry and marmalade? That's the best you've got? I'll have to bring you some of Gaius's peach jam. And some of his plum, too. It's delicious."

"I'm so glad you're desperate to fatten me up," Arthur said.

"I am not," Merlin began, but he stopped, smiled when he realized Arthur was just teasing him.

"There's butter on the top shelf," Arthur said, and opened a nearby drawer to get some butter knives. He found a bread knife and set about unwrapping the bread, slicing it in thick, even pieces. It smelled absolutely heavenly. Briefly, Arthur wondered if this was what he had missed, growing up without a mother: good homemade food.

Having a French chef who cooked food in the Pendragon home was not the same as having homemade food.

Arthur fetched the plate while Merlin set out the jam and butter, and then they formed a little assembly line, laying out smothered slices of bread on one plate for them to share.

"I don't know why you bothered with a plate," Merlin said eventually as he spread jam on a slice of bread with broad, easy strokes. "In my house we'd just use the chopping board if we were going to eat in the kitchen."

"In my house if I tried to get anywhere near a chopping board one of the cooks would beat me senseless with a spatula," Arthur said.

Merlin arched an eyebrow. "You had more than one cook?"

"A chef needs assistants," Arthur said.

"Right." Merlin scanned the kitchen, amused. "I wondered why a bachelor's kitchen was so clean, but you probably can't cook, can you?"

"I can too," Arthur said, but that was only partially true. He could make bangers and mash and bubble and squeak, and he was great at heating up leftovers, but even through law school he'd subsisted mostly on cafeteria food and take-out.

Merlin shot him a knowing look.

"And you can cook?" Arthur asked.

"A sight better than you, I'm sure." Merlin handed him a buttered slice of bread. "But then I had a superior teacher. Now eat."

Maybe it was having Merlin next to him, maybe it was that Arthur hadn't eaten in six hours, Arthur didn't know, but the bread was utterly delicious. He savored it in silence while Merlin munched beside him, utterly plebeian about the entire affair. Of course, Merlin probably got to eat such tasty bread on a regular basis, so he probably didn't appreciate it nearly as much.

"Tell your mother thank you," Arthur said. "It's delicious."

Merlin nodded and smiled. "Yeah. Will do." He dusted the crumbs off his fingertips and put the jam and butter back in the fridge, the butter knives into the dishwasher.

"Merlin, how old were you when you realized you could do magic?" Arthur asked.

"My mother said I could move things before I could talk," Merlin said. He cast Arthur a dubious look.

"I really want to know," Arthur said. "For myself, not for the case." And maybe he shouldn't have admitted that, but then Merlin plowed ahead.

"I've always been able to do magic," he said. "I just didn't always know that it was called magic. Other kids in school couldn't do what I could, and my mother - she insisted that I do my best to keep it hidden. But sometimes, when I wanted a teddy bear or something - it would appear in my hands while someone else was reaching for it. After the second time it happened, we moved out to the country to my grandfather's farm."

"So you were home-schooled?"

"Until I was able to control my magic properly enough to keep it hidden through the rest of primary school." Merlin shrugged.

"That must have been hard," Arthur said, "hiding who you were."

"It was kind of lonely," Merlin said. "And then I met Will. He found out by accident, but he was all right with it." He shook his head and smiled at the memory. "Mum was so furious when she found out, but Will was good about it, and it was nice to have a friend who knew."

"Does everyone know, now?" Arthur asked.

"Not really," Merlin asked. "I mean, I don't use my magic in public, but if someone were to ask, I'd be honest. I'm pretty sure I can count on one hand the people who've seen me actually use magic."

Arthur finished off his slice of bread and crossed his arms over his chest. "Let's see, then."

"You've seen my magic."

"No - you count on one hand."

Merlin rolled his eyes, but then he began to list off, "My mum, Gaius, Will, Mordred, and you."

"That is one hand," Arthur said, fairly impressed, but then Merlin switched hands and said,

"Also Morgana."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "It seems like everywhere I turn in this case, I run into her."

Merlin caught the edge in Arthur's tone, and for one moment he looked confused. Then realization lit in his eyes. "You are jealous of Morgana, aren't you?"

"What? That's preposterous."

Merlin looked positively gleeful. "You're jealous that she knew me first."

"Both of you have been strangely silent about how, precisely, you know each other," Arthur said.

The glee faded from Merlin's expression. He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. "It's just - a support group. For people in the mage rights campaign. A lot of us have - lost people. We deal with similar issues and things."

"As best as I know, you're the only mage Morgana knows," Arthur said.

"She is inordinately fond of defying Uther." Merlin smiled faintly, but it wasn't a proper answer to Arthur's unspoken questions and both of them knew it.

"I suppose, whatever it is, it's Morgana's to tell and not yours," Arthur said. "I won't press the issue anymore."

Merlin looked distinctly relieved, and for one moment Arthur was tempted to ask again, but he was good at resisting temptation.

He straightened up. "Thanks for the work break."

"No problem." Merlin smiled, and then, abruptly, he yawned.

"Do you need me to call you a cab home?"

"No. I'm just going to put on another film and revel in the fact that you're working and I'm not." And Merlin headed into the den.

"Hey," Arthur protested, "I thought you wanted to help me."

"I am helping," Merlin said, poking through Arthur's DVD collection some more. "I cut up depositions for you and I'm making sure you take regular breaks, and also that you stay on task. Back to work, Arthur."

"That's Prince Arthur to you."

"In your dreams." Merlin put on Legally Blonde just to spite him.

Arthur was dressed, fed, and showered the next morning while Merlin was still snoring on the couch. Arthur had noticed, around 2 a.m., that the film was long ended and Merlin was curled up like a kitten at the other end of the couch, so Arthur had flung a blanket over him and kept working for another hour. If he'd spent more time watching Merlin sleep than doing actual work, well, no one would know it but him.

Briefly, Arthur considered waking Merlin, but he had shadows around his eyes, and for all that Arthur was stressed out about this case, Merlin had to be about ten times more worried, and he likely needed the sleep. Arthur scribbled down the number of a cab company and then added a note of thanks for the bread, the help, and the company. For some reason, he felt like a guilty one night stand slinking out of his paramour's flat. Which was ridiculous, because Merlin was not his paramour and there had been no such one night stand. Armed with that conviction of self-persuasion, Arthur set off for work. He was almost out the door when his mobile went off. It was an unfamiliar ring tone, which meant it was a stranger.

Arthur fumbled to answer it but -- too late. Merlin bolted upright, cast a confused look at his surroundings.

"Hello?" Arthur answered his phone instead of meeting Merlin's questioning gaze.

"Pendragon! Where the hell is my roommate?"

Ah. Will the broom wielder.

"He was asleep safely on my couch, but you just woke him," Arthur said. "Would you like to speak to him and ensure that he's all right?"

"Yes!"

Arthur sighed and crossed the room, handed Merlin his mobile. Merlin answered groggily and had a conversation that was half grunts before he handed the mobile back. Arthur hung up without speaking to Will further even though he was pretty sure he heard indignant shouts emanating from the device before he snapped it shut.

"Did I fall asleep?" Merlin asked.

"I'd have thought that was obvious."

"Why didn't you send me home?"

"There was the part where you were asleep."

"Oh. Oh." Merlin glanced at his watch. "Bloody hell - Mordred! I have to go. Now."

"It's only half past seven," Arthur said. "Why don't you eat while I fetch you some clean clothes? You can shower and call your mum and go on your merry way while I'm slaving over your case in my office like a respectable member of the work force."

Merlin stumbled off the couch and into the kitchen. Arthur set down his briefcase and headed into his bedroom. He rummaged around in his closet for some old clothes from his more slender days (read: secondary school), and then he went into the bathroom and found a towel and a spare toothbrush (he hoarded them from the little packets they gave people on long flights in business class). When he emerged, Merlin was munching on some of his mother's bread and staring at nothing.

"Will you get into trouble?" Merlin asked.

"For having you over? It'll look quite terrible," Arthur said, and it was true, he'd lain awake all night thinking about it, but he was quite sure Uther would never consider Arthur's potential homosexuality as a means of getting Arthur thrown off the case. At this point it was disinheritance or nothing.

Merlin's eyes widened. "Arthur! You should have sent me home!"

"I had a case to win and I needed your skill with a pair of scissors. That's all. Lock the door when you leave." Arthur smiled and swept out of his flat. On the way out of the building, he considered palming the doorman a twenty for additional discretion, but that would have made things look even worse. Arthur decided to at least confess to Leon, then realized that he really didn't have anything to confess.

After all, it wasn't illegal to have highly unethical thoughts.

Arthur pushed those thoughts aside and headed into the office.

Arthur must have dozed at his desk, because the next thing he knew, Lance was in the doorway waving a cordless phone at him.

"Old man Drake is on the phone! Why haven't you been picking up?" Then he noticed Arthur blinking blearily at him and frowned. "Have you been pulling more all-nighters?"

Arthur snatched the phone from him and made a shooing gesture. "Arthur Pendragon speaking."

"Young Pendragon," old man Drake said. He had a slow, lulling, terribly profound voice. "I received your email and regret to inform you that I shall not attend the trial. Nevertheless, I have called to inquire as to your preparation. Are you ready? Aredian is a formidable opponent."

"I've prepared," Arthur said warily. Was this part of the hiring test? Obviously preparation was the main factor in winning a case, but --

"And the young warlock? Is he ready?"

"He will be," Arthur said. Warlock. He'd never heard anyone call Merlin that.

Drake chuckled, but the sound was more ominous than cheerful. "Good, good. Fare thee well, young Pendragon. I will know as soon as the verdict comes down."

And the line went dead.

Arthur set the phone down on his desk and stared at it. Then he summoned one of the secretaries to fetch it back to the front desk. What had that been about? This case - this simple class IV felony - had become a rather large and looming monster in Arthur's life. He couldn't decide whether or not Merlin was a plus (those eyes, the way he smiled, the way he made Arthur feel) or a minus (permanent disbarment). The disaster with Uther and Morgana's constant meddling - those were definite minuses. Getting a job at Drake's would be a huge plus. The look on Aredian's face when the verdict came back not guilty would also be a huge plus, but neither huge plus was guaranteed.

They certainly wouldn't be very likely if Arthur kept dozing and blinking at his watch. He heaved himself out of his chair and scooped up his jacket. Trial prep officially began...now.

Writing crosses and directs, opening and closings - those were the easy part of the trial. Despite what people saw on the telly, trials weren't carefully orchestrated drama-fests where the prosecutor enraged a witness to the point of spontaneous confession or where a magic bullet turned up in the defender's evidence. Trials were a mess of human confusion, because humans were the cogs of the system and also the most fallible part of the system. From jury selection to witness prep, from judges to opposing to counsel to the morons in the public gallery, humans seemed determined to screw things up every step of the way. Arthur set Tristan and Kay to writing up a profile of preferred jurors, and he asked Erec to have a chat with O'Cara's clerk and find out her preferences on courtroom etiquette. The rest - the witnesses - were up to Arthur.

Throwing himself into his work was the best way to forget about - everything. About the horrific row with his father (how the papers hadn't gotten wind of that was a demonstration of the true reach of Uther Pendragon's political grasp), about wanting to make Merlin smile every day till the end of their lives. If Arthur glimpsed Merlin at Gaius's shop while going over Gaius's testimony, if he saw a picture of five-year-old-Merlin chasing a butterfly when he was having a last-minute chat with Hunith, those were just coincidence. And if Arthur replayed those glimpses over his lunch hour while he reviewed the reports from Tristan, Kay, and Erec, well, it was all in the name of winning Merlin's case.

Three days before trial, Arthur had his entire case ready. His trial binder was the biggest one he'd had to deal with yet, but then he had everything in order - cross-examinations listed alphabetically by witness name, direct examinations listed in the order in which he planned on calling witnesses, exhibit lists, his openings and closings, a smatter of case law to fend off objections, a mid-trial motion for judgment of acquittal. Gwen and Lance had both been forced to sit through multiple readings of his opening and closing, and Arthur was quite sure he couldn't remember the last time he'd put so much work into a trial since the mock-trial competition he and Kay had been partners for in law school.

Tristan knocked on the door. "Hey, Mr. Pendragon, d'you want to come to lunch with the rest of us?"

Arthur looked up. "Hm? Oh, hello Tristan. Really, you can call me Arthur. I'm quite sure whenever you say 'Mr. Pendragon', people look for Uther." He stood up. "Lunch sounds lovely."

Tristan hovered in the doorway, nervous. Arthur had heard most of the heartwrenching details of Tristan's forbidden love at his previous law firm from Gwen, and while Arthur had initially been unsympathetic, he was coming to learn the travails of forbidden love in the law.

Forbidden love in the law. It sounded like some very terrible romance novel that Morgana wouldn't admit to reading.

Arthur smiled tiredly at his colleague. "Lunch would probably be good. Thanks for picking up the slack with my cases, by the way."

Tristan shrugged. "I'm low man in the ranks. Makes sense that I get the nice plea bargains. I was pretty good at negotiations back - before." He smiled nervously, hands jammed into his pockets like a schoolboy.

"Do you have much litigation experience?" Arthur asked.

"Not much. Usually they just made me go watch," Tristan said. "I, ah, didn't do trial team or anything in law school, so..."

It was a cardinal rule of trial that the more attorneys a defendant had, the more guilty he looked, but Arthur knew that Merlin's trial was the most complicated one he had run since law school, and it would be nice to have a second chair, if only to track depositions and prior statements and exhibits.

"Would you like to be second chair for the Emrys trial?"

Tristan almost fell over. "What? Me? Not Lance or Erec or --"

"You wouldn't have to do much," Arthur said. "Just - hand me paperwork and things. It's just better if there are two heads instead of one, you know? Aredian's been known to tag-team on objections."

"Are you sure?" Tristan asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I just..." Tristan shrugged. "I thought you hated me."'

Arthur winced. It was easy to see how Tristan thought that. "I don't hate you. How about we go to lunch with the others, and then I'll walk you through the trial?"

Tristan smiled what might have been his first genuine smile since he'd joined the Knights of the Round Table. "That would be good, Mr. Pendragon."

"Arthur."'

"Right, er, Arthur."

"You haven't been answering my calls again." Merlin stood in the doorway.

Arthur looked up, surprised, and icy shock spilled over him. Merlin actually looked - hurt. "I've been working on your case." He gestured to the thick binder that contained his battle plans extraordinaire. He had a back-up copy at home just in case. "I've asked Tristan to be second chair, and I had to run through the set-up with him."

"I've barely seen you the last few days," Merlin said.

Arthur felt his chest clench at the plaintive note in Merlin's voice. "I've been working. As have you, I imagine."

Merlin shrugged and stared down at his hands.

Were Merlin any other client, Arthur would have sent him on his way with instructions not to be such an emotional child, but Merlin looked rather like a kicked puppy, and Arthur was hardly immune to Merlin's woeful expression.

"Did you leave messages with the secretary?" Arthur reached for the stack of notes the secretaries sent him. Even if Merlin were any other client, Arthur would have been highly remiss to ignore his messages.

"I called your mobile. You never picked up."

Arthur blinked. Then he looked down at his mobile. In the last week or so, he'd reached a point where he only answered the phone if he recognized the ringtone, like Lance's Fortune Favors The Brave (from the musical Aida) or Morgana's deeply mortifying Bitch (by Meredith Brooks). When he flipped through his missed calls, he saw that he hadn't missed any from his father, but he'd missed a full twenty-seven from Merlin.

He sighed. "I'm sorry. I just - tend not to answer the generic ringtone when I'm really busy. Law school habit, I guess."

"Don't you have a separate ringtone for clients?" Merlin asked.

"Most clients don't get my mobile number," Arthur said.

Merlin paused, and then something like hope crept into his expression. "Well, why don't you set me a different ringtone, then?"

"I let my friends choose their own ringtones," Arthur said.

"Oh." Merlin's voice was very small.

Arthur looked into those blue, blue eyes and knew he would regret doing this, but he held out his mobile. "Choose one for yourself."

The hope on Merlin's face turned into outright joy at the simple gesture, and Arthur was quite sure that he could only to fall in love with Merlin just once, but every time Merlin smiled like that, Arthur fell in love all over again.

Fell in love.

Panic - mixed with elation - spread through Arthur's limbs. What the hell? He was in love with Merlin? That was impossible. It was one thing to want to throw Merlin up against the nearest wall and shag him, because Merlin was inexplicably attractive, but lust and love were two different things. Only Arthur had spent hours talking to Merlin, learning to understand his magic and the way he viewed the world (a little naively, but not without wisdom or generosity), and Arthur was fighting hard - harder than he'd ever fought before - to protect Merlin's freedom.

Arthur was quite sure that everything that had just run through his mind was reprinted somewhere on the dust jacket of one of Morgana's not-so-secret trashy romance novels.

He wanted to bang his head against his desk. He was in love with Merlin.

"So...I can just download the song I want for a ringtone?" Merlin asked, breaking Arthur out of his stupor. "Any song?"

Arthur blinked at him, then had to stop and process Merlin's last two sentences. "Yes. Pick a song. Download it."

"Any song?"

"Morgana put Bitch on my phone. Father's ringtone is Hall of the Mountain King." Arthur cut himself off abruptly. He'd been so good and not calling Uther 'father' in the last while.

"So if I picked something really embarrassing...?"

"I wouldn't be the only one who was embarrassed by your choice," Arthur said, even though no one mocked Morgana for her choice. The other knights had razzed Kay for a month straight when he'd picked the Milkshake song. Luckily Kay tended to send texts rather than call, and Arthur had a generic pinging noise for incoming text messages. Thinking about his friends' random ringtones was a good distraction from the mental gaffe of thinking about Uther.

Merlin hummed thoughtfully and continued poking on Arthur's mobile. Then he nodded decisively, closed it, and handed it back.

"What did you pick?" Arthur asked.

Merlin smiled. "You'll find out when I call."

Arthur arched his eyebrows. "Was there anything else you needed?"

"I just thought I'd come by and check on things, seeing how you weren't returning my calls." Merlin shrugged.

"We're ready," Arthur said. "Voir dire starts tomorrow."

"Vwah-deer?" Merlin echoed, politely puzzled.

"Jury selection. You have to be there for it," Arthur said.

Merlin nodded. "Just tell me when and where."

Arthur reached into his outbox and handed Merlin a letter. "Everything you need to know is here. I suppose your mother-henning over me not returning your call saved us a stamp."

The indignant flush that crept across Merlin's cheekbones was delightful. "I am not being a mother hen! My concern for the case that will decide my very freedom is completely warranted."

Arthur smiled gently. "I know. I was just teasing."

"Was that almost an apology?" Merlin asked, and Arthur knew that expression. It was cheeky. It most likely meant trouble.

"No. I have nothing to apologize for," Arthur said, and it was his turn to be indignant, but then Merlin laughed softly.

"Of course," he said.

Arthur searched Merlin's gaze. "You know we're going to win, don't you?"

Merlin nodded. "I know."

"You have to know it," Arthur said. "I need you with me on this. All the work I've done, all the preparation that's gone into this - it'll be for nothing if you don't stand next to me. Do you understand?" Arthur didn't really understand himself, but he needed Merlin to feel it too, the clamoring insistence in Arthur's blood and heartbeat that Merlin truly believe, with every ounce of his being, that they were going to win.

"I believe you," Merlin said, and something unfurled in Arthur's chest - relief and longing and joy.

He couldn't stop the smile that crossed his face. "Thank you."

"No," Merlin said, his voice soft, "thank you." And he leaned in.

Kay threw the door open. "Merlin! Just the man I wanted to see."

Arthur scooped up Excalibur and desperately hoped Kay would think he had been writing. Merlin straightened up and turned; he was clutching the letter, and maybe Kay would think they had been reading it together or something. In which case Arthur ought to set down the pen. Only his fingers weren't working due to the sheer panic pounding in his heart and his mind.

Of course, Kay didn't notice anything might even be remotely amiss. "We're having a pretrial-slash-goodbye-Arthur party down at the Deli in the Dells tonight. You're invited, obviously. Seven p.m. I think Gawain and Safir agreed to pick up the tab." He grinned. "It'll be great fun."

Merlin's grip on the letter was white-knuckled. "I couldn't intrude on the rest of the knights."

"Nonsense!" Kay said cheerfully. "After all, Merlin was Arthur's closest advisor. They won every battle together. And the lads like you - Arthur's less of a grumpy old bag when you're around."

"Hey!" Arthur cried. He flicked a paperclip at Kay for good measure.

Kay just laughed and ducked out of the room. "Seven," he called over his shoulder. "Be there!"

As soon as he was out of earshot, Merlin turned to Arthur. "Do you want me there?"

They were back to avoiding each other's gazes, at least on Arthur's part. "As Kay said, the lads like you, so you're invited. What I want is irrelevant." The in more ways than one hung unspoken between them.

After an awkward silence, Merlin said, "I see. I'll call, then, when I've made a decision. Thank you for the letter. It's very informative." And he drifted out of the office.

That was the first time Merlin had ever sounded like a real client.

Arthur stared at his empty doorway for a long time, then got back to his paperwork.

"Only you would be late to your own party," Leon said when Arthur stepped into the Deli in the Dells.

Arthur hung up his coat amidst his colleagues' and set his briefcase down on the stack of briefcases. The barman behind the counter seemed highly amused that an entire pack of lawyers had descended on the otherwise not-yet-trendy haven of Camelot's bohemians.

Kay raised a tankard of beer high. "Arthur! Where's Merlin?"

"I haven't seen him since the meeting this morning," Arthur said. He slid into the booth and found himself next to Lance, Gwen, and Morgana. Across the table, Owen was already deep into his cups and watching Morgana mournfully.

"You didn't give him a lift?" Lance asked.

"He lives here in the Dells - within walking distance," Morgana said. "So he wouldn't need a lift."

Gwen looked concerned. "Is it really safe for Merlin to be walking around the Dells after dark? He's not much of a fighter." Then she cast Arthur an alarmed look. "Not that he can't look after himself. I'm sure he's more than capable of defending himself. Just --"

Lance patted her hand gently. The gesture was unconscious, automatic and affectionate. Jealousy curled in Arthur's gut. He would never be able to do that with Merlin. Ever. He looked away.

"I'm sure Merlin is fine," Lance said. "Maybe he's just running a little late."

Kay clambered to his feet and raised his tankard high. "I propose a toast to Arthur Pendragon, the prettiest, most prat-faced public defender to have graced the courtrooms of Albion. He has done what the rest of us can only dream of doing, and that is mounting a successful escape from the trenches into the high courts of private litigation under the most auspicious offices of Drake and Associates, LLC."

"But Lance is the prettiest public defender!" Erec cried.

Lance blushed and ducked his head, which cause Gwen and Morgana to laugh.

"You missed the important part," Gawain said. "Kay said prettiest and most prat-faced. Lance isn't a prat. Are you, Lance?"

"No, he's not," Gwen said firmly.

"I am not a prat," Arthur said, and it felt a bit strange, hearing other people use Merlin's bizarre term of endearment for him.

"Yes you are," Morgana said, which prompted Owen to raise his pint glass high and cry,

"Hear, hear!"

Arthur rolled his eyes; Owen's crush on Morgana had slipped past the borders of pathetic a long time ago and was marching firmly onward toward the realms of downright embarrassing. Morgana wasn't really helping matters by wearing a stunning black cocktail dress instead of one of her conservative designer suits.

"Arthur, you've been an example to us all," Kay said, "of how hard work, skill, and sheer insanity make for an excellent lawyer. We wish you all the best in the trial to come, and in your cushy corner office in Drake's caves in the days after." He hoisted his tankard high once more. "To Arthur!"

"To Arthur!" the others echoed, and clinked their classes. Then they proceeded to head straight down the path toward drunkenness.

Arthur sipped at his whiskey sparingly, and when he glanced across the table he saw that Tristan wasn't drinking very much either, which was good. Both of them needed to be on their best tomorrow, and Arthur wouldn't risk Merlin's freedom on a good time at the pub.

Someone's mobile started to ring.

At least, Arthur thought it was a mobile, because it was a song that clashed distinctly with the song playing softly in the background of the pub, some top 40 station. There was a low, insistent beat, and then there was a man's voice.

"In the rain I'm walking slowly
There's a light in your apartment
I don't know why I ache for you..."

The lyrics stirred Arthur's memory, as if he'd heard them before, but he was quite sure he didn't know this song.

"Who's mobile is that?" he asked.

Everyone at the table began patting down their pockets. One by one, the others held up their mobiles and shook their heads. Lance dug an elbow into his ribs.

"It must be yours."

"Mine?" Arthur echoed, but he patted down his pockets.

Erec laughed. "What, don't know your own ringtone?"

Morgana shot Arthur a significant look, and suddenly he remembered why he had a new ringtone and precisely who was calling. Merlin's name flashing on the screen of his mobile only confirmed it.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, "I have to take this."

Gawain laughed. "And that's why old man Drake picked him - he's a workaholic, just like every Pendragon who came before him. You're putting us to shame, Arthur!"

But Arthur was already ducking out of the booth and into the darkness. "Hello?" he asked.

The lyrics from the song Merlin had chosen buzzed in his mind. I ache for you.

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it tonight," Merlin said. His voice was low, subdued, as it had been in the office earlier that day. "I'm having supper with the family - well, Mum, and then also Will and Gaius and Mordred. The matrons let Mordred out for the evening."

"That's good," Arthur said, "that you're spending time with your family." He didn't talk about the conspicuously empty Sunday nights on his calendar when the weekly Pendragon family gathering used to be. He felt his throat begin to close. "It's good that you can spend one last night with your family -- not that this is your last supper or anything." Ye gods. He sounded like Gwen when she was at her babbling worst. "It's just - the last night before the trial. And it's an important trial. For both of us."

"Yeah," Merlin agreed softly.

In the background, Arthur could hear Will and Mordred. From the sound of it, Mordred was soundly beating Will at chess.

"So...this is it then," Merlin said, and Arthur jerked back to the present.

"What's it?"

"The beginning of the end," Merlin said.

Panic spread through Arthur. "It's not the end - we're going to win this and you know."

"That's not what I meant." There was a catch in Merlin's voice. "When this trial is over, you'll move on to your nicer job, and I'll be free and...we'll never see each other again. It'll be the end of us. Even though there never was an us. There can never be an us, right?"

"Right," Arthur agreed quietly.

"I won't bother you after this," Merlin said.

Arthur wanted to protest. He and Merlin had done well the other night, watching films and sharing food, laughing and joking - but immediately he knew he was lying to himself. Both of them had barely managed to hold themselves in check, and the entire night had thrummed with nervous energy, the two of them one couch-length apart and wanting. "I understand."

"After that verdict comes down, I'll walk out of your life and you'll never see me again. I promise, if anyone ever suspects you and me, I'll tell them the truth - that you were honorable and ethical for the entirety of our relationship." Merlin's voice shook, and goodness gracious, he sounded like he was ready to cry.

Arthur swallowed hard. "Merlin, you don't have to --" He choked on his own words. He tried again. "It's not like we can never see each other again."

"You're going on to great things, Arthur Pendragon. I won't stand in your way. After the verdict, it'll be good-bye."

"Good-bye?" Arthur echoed. His throat closed. No. That couldn't be right. It wasn't right - and it wasn't fair!

A faint voice in the background - Hunith? Gaius? - summoned everyone to supper.

"I'm sorry," Merlin said. "I'd better go. I --"

This can't be goodbye, Arthur wanted to say, but he couldn't.

"Thanks for everything, Arthur," Merlin whispered.

"Be at court tomorrow," Arthur said. It wasn't what he wanted to say, but everything else had threatened to lodge in his throat and prevent him from speaking at all. He sounded numb and robotic, like a pre-recorded courtesy message. "Half past eight. Wear a suit and tie." He almost asked Merlin to wear the one he'd worn to that disastrous motion in limine, the one in which he'd looked striking and stunning, but he shoved the thought aside. It was thoughts like those that had gotten him into this mess.

"I'll be there," Merlin said, and hung up.

It occurred to Arthur, after he'd stood there for a good thirty seconds listening to a dial tone, that it wouldn't have been unethical to say I love you.

Arthur turned off his mobile and headed back into the pub. The knights greeted him with cheers. He pasted on a smile.

"Let's hear it for victory," he cried, pumping one fist in the air.

"Victory!" the knights roared, waving their tankards and sloshing beer left and right.

Arthur slid into the booth and accepted the tankard Morgana slid his way. He ignored her sympathetic smile and tried not to feel anything but defeated.

Chapter Text

People became lawyers for any number of reasons - curiosity, money, family tradition, hopes of prestige, intellectual challenge, a passion for justice. Arthur had cited one or another as his reason when he'd been asked in the past, and to some degree, all of them had been the truth. The Pendragons had a long and established pedigree at the Inns of Court in Albion, and he had been taught from an early age that he would carry on the tradition of fighting for justice - as well as the lavish lifestyle and laud that came with court victories.

Arthur hated boredom and inactivity, and he would tell anyone who asked that he hadn't been bored for one moment in his three years of law school. The truth that no one knew - though Morgana possibly suspected - was that Arthur had become a trial lawyer because he loved the adrenaline rush. That thirty seconds before the bailiff called the all rise and the judge swept into the room, that was the thirty seconds Arthur lived for. His heart would pound, his temperature would spike, and the world would slide into slow motion. He could see the entire trial stretched out before him - every word and gesture, every question and answer, every moment the gavel came down in his favor, all the way to the final verdict. He could taste victory on the tip of his tongue.

And he loved it. Because at the end of the day, he could go home and fall asleep with the sound knowledge that he had served justice, served a purpose greater than himself, and he'd sleep without dreams.

Today, that thirty-second bliss didn't come, because the entire time Arthur should have been revving up to draw blood, he'd been forcing himself to look like a respectable attorney and not stare at Merlin, who had dressed in precisely the suit Arthur hoped he would.

For the first time in a long time, Arthur actually feared he might fail.

Aredian's second chair was Bayard, a seasoned litigator who likely had a more rational head on his shoulders when it came to magic but despised magic as much as Aredian. Arthur had seen Bayard in action and knew that he was likely the closer, as Aredian was a strong opener. Bayard had at least nodded in acknowledgment at Arthur and Tristan out in the hallway, and Arthur had smiled politely in return. Aredian had swept past them as if they didn't exist.

In the courtroom, once the venire - eighty potential jurors - was assembled, all bets were off. Despite what people saw on Law & Order and other lawyer shows, the trial began here, with jury selection, and the lawyers were on trial first. As this case hadn't received much publicity, likely the jury couldn't tell which of the three men at defense counsel table was the actual defendant, and Arthur was all right with that; the jury would have to judge all three men at defense counsel table equally until the attorneys made their entries of appearances.

Arthur had let Tristan talk to Merlin about courtroom demeanor; Tristan knew he wasn't going to be doing much this trial, but Arthur wanted him to feel like more than a glorified page turner. Merlin sat at the far end of the table armed with a legal pad and a pen so he could take notes; it would look good to the jury if he looked personally involved in his defense. Tristan didn't know that Merlin had been more involved in his own defense than any of Arthur's other clients, but at least Tristan had a decent sense of the showmanship required in court.

Then the bailiff called the all rise, and Judge O'Cara swept up to the bench in her black robes. According to her clerk, she preferred to deal with preliminary questions for potential jurors, so Arthur and Tristan could work on their grid and watch the jurors for tells - facial expressions, gestures, nervous tics that could betray their bias toward either the prosecution or defense.

Arthur's grid was low-tech, a legal pad with twelve squares drawn on it, arranged just like the twelve seats in the jury box. He had a stack of sticky notes and three pens - black, blue, red - and as each juror was called into the box, he scribbled the juror's information down on a sticky note and stuck it on the square that corresponded to the juror's seat. As O'Cara asked questions, Arthur scribbled on the sticky notes - blue for prosecution-friendly, red for defense-friendly, black for neutral. When O'Cara struck a juror for cause, Arthur stuck a new sticky note over the old one and the process began anew.

Arthur and Tristan had a legal pad on the table between them so they could pass notes and make observations about which jurors to keep and which to strike. The juror profile Tristan and Kay had worked up was coming in solidly handy, and Arthur shot Tristan a quick smile.

Bayard got first crack at the jury once O'Cara was done striking for cause. Tristan scribbled on the sticky notes while Arthur studied the jurors individually. The three university students eyed Bayard with skepticism, but they seemed to listen to his questions and ponder them intelligently before answering. They might be able to empathize with Merlin, who was about their age, but then Merlin was blue collar and all of them were heading for white collar jobs and that might be a problem.

There were four retirees, three of whom were women. Arthur had joked about old women, but the fact that he, Tristan, and Merlin were all neatly-groomed young men meant they had all three women on their side. The housewife looked like she was fairly conservative and she had eyed Merlin with thinly-veiled distaste, as if he were likely only groomed nicely for the occasion (not that Arthur had ever been above cleaning up his clients prior to trial).

Bayard was charming and pleasant, authoritative, and Arthur knew that the jury liked him. Aredian could be harsh and grating, and having Bayard at the table would balance their courtroom dynamics. To Arthur's irritation, the housewife actually smiled at him. Arthur kept a straight face and made a note.

The male nurse was quiet and poker-faced, an unknown quantity, which made Arthur nervous. The law professor had to go, as did the engineer and the bio lab researcher. Scientists and engineers tended to have a skeptical eye toward magic, and there was no getting around that the graffiti was a pro-mage symbol. As for the law professor - he knew Uther Pendragon personally, and he shared Uther's virulently anti-magic sentiments. Once Bayard was done with the jury, one of the old ladies and one of the students had been struck for cause. They had been replaced by a bus driver and a chef.

Arthur rose up and buttoned his jacket. A tapping noise alerted him, and he glanced down. Tristan slid the legal pad toward him.

Good luck.

Arthur nodded once, smartly, and met O'Cara's gaze. "The defense is ready to proceed, Your Honor."

O'Cara gestured. "The floor is yours, Mr. Pendragon."

Jury selection, opening, and closing were the only times during a trial when a lawyer really got to talk to the jury, and Arthur knew that the jurors had been evaluating him from the moment they'd walked into the room. He kept his movements calm and precise as he stepped between the tables and headed up to the jury box.

"Good morning," he said. "As Judge O'Cara mentioned earlier, my name is Arthur Pendragon, and I represent Merlin Emrys." He gestured to Merlin, who met the jurors' gaze with his head up, just as Tristan had suggested. "Seated beside Mr. Emrys is my co-counsel, Tristan Marks."

Tristan flashed the jury a brief, polite smile when Arthur said his name.

"As Mr. Bayard explained, jury selection is to allow both sides to find a jury that can give the fairest trial possible, not just for Mr. Emrys, but also for the government. If I ask Judge O'Cara to strike you for cause, it's not because I don't like you or think you won't be a good juror - it's because the law requires an unbiased jury. It's not fair to the government or the defense if any of you are unbiased, so your honesty is of paramount importance. It's not my intention to embarrass you at all, and if you don't want to talk about something in front of the others, let me know and we can talk about this in the judge's chambers. If you think you can't be impartial, you should tell us, and no one here will judge you, and you will be released from service."

He had their gazes, then. Bayard had launched right into his questions, but Arthur wanted the jury to understand that he wasn't their enemy and he wasn't out to let some guilty man get off scott-free. "Are there any questions?"

The jurors shook their heads. Arthur studied their faces as he went through the usual round of questions. Bayard was a professional, and he had covered most of the ones Arthur would have covered, such as whether the jurors knew anything about the case, anyone involved in the case, or been convicted of any crimes. Arthur knew he had to cover other ground, such as whether they had been victims of vandalism or destruction of property or even anything like it. One of the elderly ladies had had her house egged, but she had just shrugged it off as teenagers being teenagers. Arthur pegged her with a mental red flag and knew Tristan would note it on the grid, and then he moved on. The male nurse had relaxed a little during Arthur's opening spiel, and it looked like he'd made eye contact with Merlin, which was good. For one irrational moment, Arthur thought that the male nurse might have smiled at Merlin, and if that nurse was defense-friendly because he thought Merlin was attractive (which he was) --

Arthur shoved the thought aside and concentrated on the two uni students.

"You're going to see the image of the graffiti in question, and you will learn that it is in fact a pro-mage symbol," he said. "Do you, or does anyone you know, have strong feelings about magic and the mage registry laws?"

Anyone you know allowed for the a friend of mine escape people used to avoid talking about themselves. Arthur studied the jurors' faces. The remaining uni students - both girls - took deep breaths, matching, and Arthur knew that if he lost one of them, he would lose both of them, because whichever way they went in the deliberation room, they would go together.

The redhead raised her hand.

Arthur nodded at her. "Yes, Miss Mercia?" He made it a point to know the jurors' names.

"I know someone who has very strong feelings about the mage registration," she said.

"All right. Now, without divulging which way that person's feelings run, would that person's feelings affect the way you would view someone accused of spraying a pro-mage symbol on a downtown fence?" This part was always the tricky part.

"Yes," the girl said.

"Would it render you unable to weigh witnesses' testimony fairly?" Arthur asked.

The girl took a deep breath, then looked right at Merlin, and Arthur saw nothing but sheer sympathy in her expression. She was pro-magic.

"Yes," she said. "I'm sorry, but I think mages and their supporters are treated so unfairly."

Arthur knew that Bayard would strike her as soon as he had the chance. Arthur knew, however, that he had to strike her as well, because the chef and bus driver were eyeing her with open distaste, and Arthur couldn't afford to have that much discord in the jury room. Also, he knew it would look good to the fence-sitters on the jury if he didn't stack the jury so obviously in his favor.

Arthur turned to O'Cara. "Your Honor, I move strike juror number eleven for cause."

O'Cara nodded. "Miss Mercia, you have been struck for cause. You may step down."

The girl nodded and gathered up her bag, stepped out of the box. She cast Merlin a sympathetic look as she left, and then she glared at Arthur. Arthur knew the other jurors hadn't seen her expression, and he had to force himself not to react. He could feel Merlin's gaze burning between his shoulder blades as well.

When Arthur passed for cause, the uni girl had been replaced by a teacher. Then came the flurry of peremptory challenges, which Arthur used to get rid of the law professor, the bio lab researcher, the engineer, and the remaining uni student. Bayard struck one of the old ladies, and then he got rid of three more uni students. To Bayard's dismay - and Arthur's silent glee - three more old ladies ended up on the jury. Unfortunately, a retired police officer and a construction worker ended up on the jury as well, and both of them were clearly pro-prosecution.

During the entirety of the peremptory challenges, Arthur could feel Merlin staring at him, and when he dared to glance over, he saw that Merlin looked, for one moment, utterly betrayed, but then he went back to making notes and occasionally showing one to Tristan.

Once the alternates were chosen and the jury was sworn in, Judge O'Cara called for a recess. Opening statements would begin after lunch. Arthur buttoned his jacket automatically as he rose, and he watched the jury until O'Cara was out of the courtroom. Then he took his time packing up his gear.

"Arthur," Merlin hissed.

Arthur lifted his head and saw that Merlin, though his face was utterly blank of expression, was completely furious.

"We shouldn't talk here," Tristan said quietly. "We need to go eat somewhere we won't risk running into the jury."

Arthur nodded his agreement, and then all three of them headed for the stairs. There was less chance of running into any jurors on the stairs, and Arthur was determined to avoid even the impression of impropriety.

As soon as they were on the street and headed toward the deli at the federal courthouse, Merlin whirled on Arthur.

"Those two girls were pro-magic and you know it. Why did you get rid of them? They could have helped us."

Arthur took a deep breath. He knew Merlin was frustrated - they were both frustrated and angry, and not just about the trial. "Merlin," he said, struggling to keep his voice as level as possible, "you've helped a great deal in preparing for this trial, and the major decisions are yours, but when it comes to technical matters, the decisions are mine, and I know what I'm doing."

Merlin cast him a look. "This is like that motion in limine, isn't it?"

The barb struck true. Arthur swallowed hard and refused to look at Merlin. He wasn't sure what he could say that wouldn't reveal the entire emotional fiasco to Tristan. I thought we were past that, might have been appropriate, but what Arthur really wanted to say was, I thought you trusted me.

Tristan, somehow, saved the moment. "He did the right thing, Merlin. If Arthur had left them for Bayard to strike, then the jury would've looked at Arthur like he was a weasel. People dislike defenders as it is - Arthur had to look like he was playing fair so the jury would gave his case - and you - a fair shake. Besides, a couple of the jurors didn't like the two girls, and that would've caused trouble during deliberations."

"Oh," Merlin said. "Why didn't you just say so?"

Arthur huffed. "I shouldn't have to." But when he saw Merlin's hopeful smile, the ache in his chest faded a little.

Even though opening statements weren't evidence and Judge O'Cara had to give the jury specific instructions to that fact, any trial lawyer worth his salt knew that an opening could make or break a case, so when Aredian got up to speak, Arthur and Tristan were ready to take notes.

It was a bit old-fashioned, but Arthur had learned shorthand, so he was ready to take down every word. Per Tristan's trial demeanor instructions, Merlin was to look stoic and unaffected no matter what Aredian said, but Arthur knew Merlin was too nice and decent to be much of a liar, and it took a good liar to have the poker face Tristan - or any other attorney - would have wanted.

What Merlin did do right was lift his head and look right at the jury whenever Aredian mentioned him. Of course, a good prosecutor knew to refer to the defendant by name only once, but every time Merlin looked at the jury with his solemn blue eyes, they were reminded that he was a person.

In the face of Aredian's opening, the jurors had to be reminded that Merlin was a person, because for all of Aredian's irrationality, he carried the same charismatic rhetoric of the bold preachers of times past. He paced back and forth in front of the jury box, and out of the corner of Arthur's eye he saw that even Merlin looked faintly awed.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this case is simple. You may hear arguments about mistaken identity, about an alleged framing, about an investigation gone wrong, but don't let the defense fool you - this case is very simple. It's about politics. The boy sitting across the courtroom, the defendant, one Merlin Emrys, is today charged with the crime of graffiti." Aredian paused and let that sink in, looking the jurors over. His expression was solemn, but his eyes burned with the fire of fanaticism, and Arthur knew that sort of passion could easily sway a jury.

"The government has evidence and will so prove that it was the defendant --" And here Aredian jabbed a finger in Merlin's direction, causing Merlin to lift his head and look steadily at the jury -- "who sprayed a pro-mage symbol on a fence downtown, right in the heart of your city. The evidence will prove that he did so knowingly and intentionally, in an effort to promote the cause of chaos and disorder that underlies the mage movement."

Arthur had a split second to decide - object or not? The characterization of the mage movement was argumentative, which was not allowed in opening statements, but Erec had learned from O'Cara's clerk that she wasn't fond of objections during openings and closings. Arthur bit his lip and said nothing, took notes. He dared to glance at Merlin and saw that Merlin's cheekbones were flushed red in anger at Aredian's words, and that wasn't the jury-friendly poker face at all. Aredian's political rhetoric was no matter. Arthur had an answer for that.

Aredian outlined his case, about the police officers who found Merlin at the scene holding the tin of spraypaint used to commit the crime, and Arthur knew that Aredian had what sounded like solid evidence. If Arthur hadn't known what he did know, he would have wholeheartedly believed Aredian himself, but Arthur knew the truth, and it was up to him to show the jury that truth.

Aredian was an old-fashioned prosecutor and spent most of his time pacing up and down in front of the jury box, and when it came time for his moral plea, he planted himself squarely in front of the middle of the box, looked all the jurors in the eye.

"Members of the jury, today the government asks you to bring justice to the city of Camelot and the State of Albion. The police's methods are infallible and their findings are incontestable."

Arthur was out of his seat in an instant. "Objection, Your Honor, argumentative."

Aredian turned away from the jury and fixed his gaze on O'Cara. He waited until she acknowledged him, and then said, "Your Honor, the government is allowed to state its theory of the case."

O'Cara fixed Arthur with a withering look. "Overruled. Continue, counselor."

Aredian shot Arthur a smirk and continued with his moral plea. Arthur sat down quietly and resumed taking notes. Tristan tapped their shared notepad.

Grounds for appeal, he had written.

Arthur nodded once and continued taking notes. At the very least, he had broken Aredian's stride with the jury. He could tell that the jury was annoyed with him for it, but there were lines, and Aredian had crossed one.

"The facts point to one person and one person alone - the defendant, Merlin Emrys. At the end of the trial, my co-counsel, Mr. Bayard, will have a chance to speak to you, and he will ask you return the only verdict that the law supports, justice demands, and the evidence allows: guilty." And Aredian marched back to his seat.

Arthur took a deep breath and rose up, buttoned his jacket. He glanced at Merlin, then turned to the jury. There it was - the first firework burst of adrenaline, the roar of time slowing down all around him, the first rush of words dancing on the tip of his tongue. Arthur had to force himself to relax and slow down, smile politely at the jury.

Opening statements were the tightrope walk between human being and lawyer. Juries expected lawyers to be excellent orators, but they also believed lawyers were some sub-human species that spoke Latin and Old French to keep out the plebeians. Arthur had to walk the fine line between both, win the jury over as a likable human being - and be a grand orator.

"You know how sometimes two children are fighting, and one starts the fight, but when their mother turns around all she sees is the other striking back, and she doesn't realize it's self-defense, so she punishes the wrong child?"

There. A hook. The jury certainly hadn't been expecting that. Apparently, neither had Merlin or Tristan, because they both shot him puzzled looks. Arthur knew what he was doing, and he forced himself not to try to cast them reassuring looks.

"The evidence in this case will show that the police who investigated this crime found the wrong man and that the government has decided to punish him in his innocence."

This was the first case in which Arthur had been able to use the word innocent in open court, and he relished in it. Merlin was every defender's dream: an actually innocent client. Arthur moved to stand behind Merlin, placed his hands on Merlin's shoulders. Merlin jumped a little at the touch, but not enough for the jury to notice, and lifted his head to look at the jury. Arthur's palms buzzed at the contact, but he forced himself to hang on - it didn't look good to a jury if a defendant's own lawyer wouldn't touch him.

"Before I tell you more about the events that occurred on September 13, let me introduce you to the defendant in this case, Merlin Emrys. He's twenty-three years old and works in an apothecary here in town, assisting in making and delivering medicine to people in the community. He volunteers as a mentor for troubled youth, and he helps support his mother." In any other case, Arthur would have fully admitted that he was laying it on a little thick, but Merlin was as good as Arthur had told the jury, and he wanted them to know that.

A little humanity had been injected into the courtroom after Aredian's Cotton Mather impression. Now to be a lawyer. Arthur stepped out from behind the defense counsel table and crossed the courtroom with brief, confident strides, and then he stood before the jury box. Because he had done voir dire he could afford to stand closer than Aredian had, because whether or not the jury realized it, they had become familiar with Arthur and were, at least subconsciously, more comfortable wit him.

"Now, Mr. Emrys doesn't have to testify. The Constitution gives him that right. But you will hear from Mr. Emrys when he takes the stand." Arthur laid a hand on the edge of the witness box. "He will tell you what really happened that day, and he will tell you that he is innocent."

Arthur told the jury Merlin's side of the story almost word-for-word as Merlin had told it to him. Merlin had woken up, gone to work to check on Gaius and Will, then went to visit Mordred, play chess. He'd been delivering medicine downtown when he'd passed by an alley and someone had yelled, Catch. What did Merlin do? He defended himself. Rather than get hit in the face by a metal can, he'd caught it. And then watched as a man in a black balaclava ran away. Seconds later, the police caught him. Merlin told them what happened, but they arrested him anyway. Now he was here in court to prove his innocence.

As Arthur spoke, he could see some of the jurors nodding along thoughtfully, as if his words made sense. He spotted some of the elderly women frowning sympathetically in Merlin's direction, which was definitely a good thing. Arthur was less rigid than Aredian, and he wasn't afraid to move around the courtroom, to stand in front of Merlin when speaking about him, to stand in front of Aredian and Bayard when speaking of the police and the government.

Now, of course, came the sticky part. Politics.

"Now, the government has decided that Mr. Emrys's motive for committing this crime was political, that he sought to seed chaos and disorder. Members of the jury, pay attention not only to the evidence you do hear, but to the evidence you do not hear. You will hear no evidence that Mr. Emrys was disruptive at all during his arrest; in fact, you will learn that he didn't even try to run." Arthur kept his expression solemn with a touch of earnest, tried to remember the tone he'd used when he'd rallied the other knights at the pub the night before. "You will hear no evidence that Mr. Emrys is a registered magic user or that he is even required, by law, to register as a mage. Mr. Aredian has told you that this case is a simple one: and it is. It's a simple case of the police not doing their job."

Arthur stepped away from the prosecution's table and went to stand before the jury once more. "The government has the burden of proving, beyond a reasonable doubt, that Mr. Emrys committed this crime."

Aredian looked ready to leap out of his seat, because defining the law was left to the judge, but Arthur's next words stopped him.

"At the end of the trial, Judge O'Cara will tell you what a reasonable doubt means, but for now let me tell you this - it is not enough that the government proves that Mr. Emrys might have committed the crime or even that he probably committed the crime. The government must prove, beyond a reasonable doubt, that Mr. Emrys committed the crime. However, the evidence will show that the police did not follow all possible leads and narrowed their focus too soon, and as a result the government is asking you to punish the wrong man. At the end of the trial, I will have a chance to speak to you again, and I will ask you to find what the evidence will show: that Merlin Emrys is innocent." Arthur inclined his head. "Thank you."

And he returned to his seat.

Tristan slid the notepad toward him. He'd drawn a smiley face.

Judge O'Cara glanced at her watch, then at the jury. "We will recess until nine a.m. tomorrow when the government will proceed with its case. Until then, court is adjourned." She banged her gavel once, then rose to her feet. The bailiff called the all rise, and Arthur waited until the judge and the jury were out of the room.

Tristan's mobile rang, and he shot Arthur and Merlin apologetic looks before ducking his head to answer it. Merlin came to stand beside Arthur while Arthur packed up his trial binder (Tristan had been following along with Arthur's opening statement) and briefcase.

"You were amazing today," Merlin said in a low voice.

"It's what I went to school for." Arthur avoided his gaze.

Merlin placed a tentative hand on his arm, and Arthur looked up, startled, into Merlin's blue eyes.

"I mean it," Merlin said. "Out there - you were a different person."

"I find that most people consider it a social gaffe to maintain one's courtroom persona out of court." Arthur knew his tone was stiff, but he was mentally exhausted from being on alert every second of the trial, and one wrong - or right - move from Merlin would undo him.

Merlin shook his head. "I'm not putting this properly, am I? It's just - out there, you were you, only you were a better version of you. Just listening to you speak - if I'd been a knight, and you'd been my king, I'd have followed you to my death."

Something lodged in Arthur's chest, making it hard to speak. He blinked, searching for words, and Merlin must have taken it the wrong way, because he let his hand fall to his side.

"Yes, well," Arthur said finally, "I wouldn't want you to die."

And then Merlin smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his entire face lighting up, and Arthur wanted to kiss him then and there.

"Don't worry," Merlin said. "I wouldn't die that easily."

Before either of them could say something that would cost them Merlin's trial and Arthur's career, Tristan returned. "Are you ready to go? Leon reserved us a table at that Italian place you like. I have a few questions about the cross-examinations."

Arthur nodded, and Merlin's smile faded.

"See you tomorrow," he said.

"Tomorrow," Arthur agreed. He followed Tristan out of the courtroom.

The prosecution's case began with a stream of police officers, most of whom told variations of the same story, that they'd received a telephone call that a man in black was spray-painting one of the downtown fences and when they'd arrived they'd found Merlin standing on the pavement holding a tin of spray paint. Bayard was a solid direct examiner, confining the officers to short answers that they were unlikely to screw up. He was an honest examiner, which Arthur appreciated, because he hated it when a lawyer asked a yes-or-no question and the witness answered with hearsay.

At defense counsel table, Merlin was scribbling notes furiously, probably trying to find moments in the officers' stories that contradicted his memory. Arthur was grateful for the help, but chances were none of that would come in useful until the defense's case in chief. What mattered right now was cross-examination.

Tristan and Arthur were following along the officers' testimony with their prior statements, either from the bind-over hearing or their written statements or even deposition testimony, searching for inconsistencies to exploit. Arthur's theory of the case was that the police hadn't done a very thorough job - which they hadn't - and it was his job to make that very obvious to the jury.

Arthur believed in short cross-examinations because he liked to get straight to the point and draw blood. It helped that, after a lengthy direct, a short cross won brownie points with the jury, whose attention spans were noticeably shorter with each witness.

"Officer Pellinore, the report included a description of the suspect?"

"Yes."

Arthur held out one hand without looking, and Tristan handed him the report in question. Arthur made a show of consulting it so the jury would know that whatever Arthur was asking about, he had proof of it.

"The suspect was wearing black clothing?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Emrys wasn't wearing black clothing when you first saw him, was he?"

"Well, no, but the witness could have been mistaken."

Arthur shook his head. "I didn't ask whether the witness was mistaken, I asked whether Mr. Emrys was wearing black clothing when you first saw him, and he was not, was he?" He said it patiently, because often people didn't realize they hadn't properly answered a question, and Arthur liked to give a witness a chance or two to get it right.

"No, he wasn't."

Arthur introduced into evidence Merlin's mug shot in which he was wearing a brown jacket, a blue shirt, and one of his ridiculous bohemian scarves - red, to be exact. He published the photograph to the jury before he sat down.

Bayard, however, was experienced enough to wait for the jury to finish with the photograph so he had their attention when he did the redirect of Officer Pellinore.

Arthur learned that the officer on the stand, Officer Colgrenant, was the author of the terrible police reports that had been in Merlin's initial file. Aredian's direct of Colgrenant was different from Bayard's in that Aredian let Colgrenant give long, melodramatic answers. The jurors Arthur had pegged as pro-prosecution looked intrigued and faintly horrified as Colgrenant narrated and described the graffiti itself, a photo of which Aredian passed around to the jurors. The other jurors, however, looked fairly annoyed with Colgrenant's very presence.

Arthur decided to make that to his advantage.

"Officer Colgrenant, Mr. Emrys was standing on the pavement when you arrived on the scene?"

"Yes he was, guilty little blighter, with the tin of paint right in his red hands."

Arthur took a deep breath to remind himself to be patient. "Your Honor, I move to strike everything in the witness's answer after 'yes' as nonresponsive." Colgrenant calling Merlin guilty was several different kinds of not allowed in testimony, and Arthur wanted to punch Colgrenant. Repeatedly. Possibly while wearing brass knuckles.

Aredian was on his feet in an instant. "Your Honor, the officer answered the question --"

O'Cara shot Colgrenant a look. "So stricken. Continue, counsel."

Aredian cast Arthur a glare, but he sat down.

Arthur turned back to Colgrenant. "Mr. Emrys was about a hundred feet from you when you first saw him?"

"Thereabouts."

It wasn't a yes, but Arthur didn't have to press the issue. "Mr. Emrys saw you as well?"

"Looked right at me, cheeky beggar."

"Your Honor, I request you admonish the witness to answer the questions as asked and refrain from making personal characterizations of Mr. Emrys."

O'Cara leaned over to the witness box. "Confine your answers to the questions, Officer."

Colgrenant nodded at her, then leered at Arthur. Arthur felt faintly sick.

"Mr. Emrys didn't run, did he?" Arthur asked.

"No, he didn't, but he knew better - he couldn't have gotten away."

Arthur took a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm. "Officer Colgrenant, I didn't ask whether Mr. Emrys could have gotten away --" and Arthur made a quick decision. "We'll get to that in just a moment, but I asked whether Mr. Emrys ran, and he didn't, did he?"

"No, he didn't."

Now to draw some blood. Arthur had learned in law school to never ask a question the answer to which he didn't know unless, of course, the answer didn't matter. He knew what came next would include a bit of both.

"Now, you just stated that it was your belief that Mr. Emrys couldn't have gotten away?"

If Colgrenant answered in anything but the affirmative, the jury would think him either stupid or a liar or both, an Colgrenant knew it.

"That's right," Colgrenant said, and puffed out his chest. He had a large chest and a large belly to go with it.

Arthur arched an eyebrow, projecting his skepticism at the jury. "So it's your contention that, had Mr. Emrys run, you could have caught him?"

The answer didn't matter. If Colgrenant said no, then he looked like a liar and Merlin looked like someone who was innocent and had to reason to run. If Colgrenant said yes, he looked like an arrogant fool.

Arthur knew which one he was.

"Indeed I would have," Colgrenant said.

"Even though he had around a 100-foot head start?"

"That wouldn't have mattered."

Arthur wandered back toward defense counsel table and motioned for Merlin to stand. Merlin did so, hesitant. He kept his chin up and his arms down by his sides, and for all that Arthur had fretted about the way he'd been protective of Merlin and possibly unintentionally feminized Merlin in his thoughts (whenever he thought of Merlin as pretty or delicately slender), Merlin's tall, thin frame and long legs (which Arthur had not imagined wrapped around his waist) were an advantage.

While the moment would never make it into the court reporter's transcript of the trial, the effect would stick with the jury. The image of young, slender, long-legged Merlin versus Colgrenant's corpulent bow-legged-ness would render any of Colgrenant's declarations about the futility of Merlin running useless.

"So let me get this straight," Arthur said, "it's your claim that even though Mr. Emrys was 100 feet away and saw you coming, he could not have evaded you by running, so running would have been futile?"

"Exactly," Colgrenant said.

Arthur let his mouth twist in amusement. "No further questions, Your Honor." And he motioned for Merlin to sit once more. A younger, more foolish attorney might have asked one question too many, that it really wasn't futile for Merlin to run so obviously he hadn't tried to flee as consciousness of guilt, but Arthur wasn't foolish. The comparison would stay with the jury, and Arthur would drive the point home on closing.

Merlin was innocent. He proved it because he didn't try to run.

The last officer was young and inexperienced, and Arthur gave him grief about not looking for the man in black.

"I didn't see a man in black," the officer said.

"I didn't ask whether you saw him, I asked whether you looked, and you didn't, did you?"

"No, I didn't," the officer said.

That was all Arthur wanted the jury to hear.

Aredian and Bayard had built a solid case with the officers, and Arthur had done his part to shed doubt on the officers' veracity, effectiveness, and thoroughness, but the fence-sitters on the jury seemed to be leaning toward the prosecution. Arthur knew that he'd get his most mileage in the defense's case-in-chief.

Aredian rose to his feet to call the prosecution's final witness, and Arthur scoured the witness list, wondering who it could be. It was a game both sides played, presenting long lists of possible witnesses and then only calling the best, leaving the other side to scramble to prepare for all of them.

Arthur felt his heart drop into his shoes when he heard Aredian say,

"The government calls Uther Pendragon to the stand."

Merlin's head came up sharply, and he pinned Arthur with a look. Arthur was about to get to his feet, but then Tristan pushed the witness list toward him, and there, Arthur saw, buried among the B's - Bedevere, Balan - was his father's name. Aredian had deliberately put Uther out of alphabetical order, but - how the hell had Arthur missed this?

The clerk swore Uther in, and Arthur could only watch, paralyzed, as his father sat on the stand. Uther was impeccable in an Armani suit, and even though O'Cara was in the black judicial robes, every eye was on Uther as if he were a king holding court. Every single juror looked awed and a little afraid of him.

Arthur knew the feeling all too well. Then Tristan kicked him in the ankle and shoved the notepad at him.

702, Tristan had written. Aredian's qualifying him as an expert.

An expert in what? Arthur forced himself to focus on the questions. And then he realized what Aredian was doing, asking about the mage registry movement. Uther was expert enough in that, had written law review articles, newspaper articles, and whole books on the subject. He could identify the graffiti symbol as a pro-mage symbol readily enough for the jury, and there was nothing Arthur could do.

He stared down at his trial notebook, his ears roaring, heart pounding, and he kept reading the same words, over and over again, the stupid graffiti statute Aredian was using to suppress pro-mage views. Something in Arthur's mind clicked. He stood up.

"Objection, Your Honor, relevance?"

Aredian spluttered. "Your Honor, motive is always relevant."

O'Cara peered at Arthur over her spectacles; she waved for Aredian to continue.

Arthur wasn't going to let him. "May I approach to be heard, Your Honor?"

O'Cara's mouth pinched in a thin, annoyed line, but she beckoned him toward the bench. Aredian jostled up beside him, planting an elbow in Arthur's ribs, but Arthur ignored it. He had a bigger battle to fight.

"What's this about, Arthur?" O'Cara asked.

"Motive isn't an element of the crime," Arthur said. "The statute requires that the government prove that the defendant knowingly and intentionally put graffiti on property. Since intent is inferred from the result, my client's alleged political aspirations are irrelevant."

O'Cara weighed Arthur's words carefully, face blank.

Aredian huffed noisily. "Your Honor, this line of questioning goes to the very heart of the matter."

O'Cara weighed Aredian's words, then arched an eyebrow at Arthur. "Well?"

"The heart of the matter is whether my client committed the crime, not why he might have done so," Arthur said. "Unless Uther Pendragon has evidence of my client actually committing the crime, his speculations about my client's possible motives are irrelevant."

"Indeed," O'Cara agreed. "Mr. Pendragon's testimony will be stricken from the record and the jury instructed to disregard. Do you have any further witnesses, Aredian?"

"No, Your Honor. The state will rest."

O'Cara made a shooing motion. "Fine. Back to work."

O'Cara did as she said she would, and Uther was dismissed from the stand. Arthur could feel the weight of his father's gaze on him through the rest of the court session - while Aredian rested, while Arthur argued a motion for a judgment of acquittal. The jury was dismissed while Arthur and Aredian argued the mid-trial motion, and by the time all was said and done, Arthur, Tristan, and Merlin were in for a late lunch. Arthur packed his gear slowly, waiting until he felt the burn of his father's stare fade, and only then did he turn and scan the public gallery.

Merlin went to eat with his mother, Gaius, and Will, which left Arthur to slump in a corner of the courthouse cafeteria while Tristan sat opposite him and pretended to ignore him in favor of a grilled cheese sandwich.

"That was some brilliant work today," Morgana said.

Arthur looked up from his tepid soup and blinked.

Morgana stood beside the table, holding her briefcase. She cast a glance at Tristan, who studied her for a moment before scooping up his tray and leaving.

"You scared him off," Arthur said.

"Hardly." Morgana slid into Tristan's chair and leaned in, lowered her voice. "I heard about what happened in court today with your father."

"I took care of it," Arthur said.

"I know." Morgana wore a grim smile. "It's never been a secret that I'm the one who always defied Uther Pendragon, who drove him insane with my wild and willful ways, that you always played the dutiful son. Today, however, I think you took the trophy in defying him."

"I'd rather not think about it, honestly," Arthur said. He sighed. "I'm just doing my job. In a couple of days this trial will be over, I'll be working for Drake, and maybe I'll talk my way back into being his son. Everything will be back to normal."

"Yes indeed, and Merlin will be free," Morgana agreed placidly.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. Morgana was never placid.

"I know you'll do what's best for Merlin," Morgana said. She stood up. "I hope you also do what's best for yourself." And she walked away.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Arthur called after her, but she pretended not to hear.

Court resumed late in the afternoon, and Arthur could see that the jury was tired. Their attention span had long ago expired, but Arthur was ready for it. He had a stack of affidavits, which he entered into evidence first while the jury was gearing up to pay attention. Then Arthur called several witnesses - employees of the various art and home improvement shops in the city - who testified that they had not seen Merlin on the day in question, not buying paint from their various establishments. Aredian and Bayard took turns getting up and making much of the point that none of the witnesses had seen Merlin at all that day and could not account for his whereabouts, but on redirect Arthur made sure to drive home the point that, indeed, none of the employees had seen Merlin so he could not have bought the paint he was accused of using.

After the last witness - a college girl who worked at an art supply store - had survived a verbal lashing from Aredian, O'Cara ended the court session for the day.

The defense's real case-in-chief began the next morning.

Hunith was Arthur's first main witness, and he had her introduce herself quickly, without too many sticky details. As Merlin's mother, the jury would view her testimony as biased, and rightly so, but Arthur didn't need her as a character witness. She was there to establish the timeline of the day, that when she saw Merlin in the morning he had no paint tins in his possession. In Arthur's trial team coach's eyes, she would have been considered a throwaway witness, because if Arthur didn't account for the tiny slice of the day when she'd seen Merlin it might not matter, but Arthur wanted to cover all of his bases.

Aredian came out swinging, which was probably foolish, because Hunith had presented herself on the stand as a quiet, honest woman, and juries didn't take well to lawyers who bullied nice witnesses. Arthur could feel Merlin thrumming with anxiety down the other end of the table while Aredian questioned her.

"You claim that your son had no paint with him when you saw him?"

"Yes."

"Also that he had no bag or backpack of any sort in which he might store paint?"

Hunith nodded.

Aredian barked at her, "Was that a yes or a no?"

"Yes," Hunith said, clearing her throat so the jury could hear her.

"Did you see your son's car?"

"Yes."

"Where was it?"

"Parked on the street. I could see it out the front window."

Aredian nodded, his expression thoughtful and sneering at once. "Did you see inside his car?"

"No. As I said, it was parked on the street."

"So you don't know whether he had paint in his car?"

"That's right."

Aredian's voice was rising with each question. "So he could have had paint in his car?"

"Yes."

"Did he have paint in his car?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" Aredian practically shouted his question.

To Hunith's credit, she didn't get flustered, but Arthur could see Merlin was practically ready to leap from his seat.

Hunith kept her tone even. "That's what I just said."

"So you don't know whether or not your son had paint in his car?" Aredian leaned toward the witness box and stabbed a finger at Hunith.

Merlin's eyes blazed gold.

Arthur was out of his chair. "Objection! Asked and answered."

O'Cara nodded. "You've made your point, counselor. Move it along."

Arthur sank back down in his chair. He leaned behind Tristan to pat Merlin on the shoulder, cast him a reassuring look, but Merlin was back to scribbling notes furiously. Arthur suspected they had less to do with the case and more with the hundreds of ways Aredian should die. A quick glance at the jury told Arthur that Aredian had lost the fence-sitters after his irrationally aggressive handling of Hunith's cross-examination.

On redirect, Arthur asked several questions about Merlin's possession of paint and whether he had mentioned needing any paint, calm questions that Hunith could answer easily, and then he let her step down. The jury seemed pleased at how polite Arthur was; he hadn't been deliberately obsequious, but the contrast after Aredian's courtroom demeanor had a significant impact on turning the fence-sitters in the defense's favor.

Arthur called Gaius next, because Gaius was next in Merlin's timeline of events, and Arthur liked to keep things simple and linear for the jury. Gaius' authoritative, gentle presence on the stand seemed to win over some of the fence-sitters, who were already leaning toward the defense after Aredian's mishandling of Hunith's cross-examination.

From pre-trial interviews, Arthur had learned that Gaius and Aredian knew each other and greatly disliked each other, so Arthur was ready for Aredian's viciousness on cross, but perhaps Aredian had realized his mistake with Hunith, because Bayard crossed Gaius. He asked similar questions to the ones Aredian had posed of Hunith, poking holes in Gaius' assertions that Merlin had not been, on the day in question, in possession of any paint. Merlin looked relieved that Gaius hadn't had to suffer a verbal beating, but he realized, at the same time Arthur did, who would be crossing Mordred.

Arthur thought he heard several of the women on the jury - likely the elderly woman - actually coo when Mordred sat down in the witness box. Hunith had dressed Mordred in one of Merlin's old (read: boyhood) suits, and she'd fussed over his hair for the fifteen minutes prior to court commencing that morning. While Arthur was still discomfited by Mordred's piercing, unblinking stare, he'd suspected some of the jury would warm to him. The issue with children, of course, was always credibility, and the fact that Mordred was one of the troubled youth for whom Merlin was a mentor would also be a bias problem.

Arthur's questions of Mordred paralleled the initial conversation he'd had with Mordred during pre-trial interviews, and the chess notebook was entered into evidence with little trouble. Arthur questioned Mordred briefly about Merlin's whereabouts, whether he'd been in possession of any paint - and really, constantly asking people about Merlin being in possession of paint had to show the jury how ridiculous the entire trial was. Then Arthur showed the notebook to the jury, who seemed sufficiently awed by Mordred's meticulous record-keeping.

This time, Aredian wasn't patient enough to wait for the jury to finish with the exhibit before he launched himself at Mordred.

"You're a registered magic user, aren't you?"

Arthur almost dropped his pen. He turned to look at Merlin, but Merlin was watching Mordred with the same anxiousness with which he'd watched his mother.

"I am," Mordred said.

Some of the fence-sitters in the jury, who'd been all but cooing over Mordred, blinked, surprised, and sat back. It was classic closed-off posture. Arthur had lost them again, at least where Mordred was concerned.

"If the defendant goes to jail, you won't have him around as a friend, will you?" Aredian demanded, and here it came, the bias wash.

"We'd still be friends, but he wouldn't be around, no." Mordred gazed at Aredian with those bright, frightening eyes, and Arthur wished the boy would just blink. He was also silently grateful that Mordred was such a good witness, dodging Aredian's question like that.

"But it'd be to your advantage if he didn't go to jail?" Aredian asked.

"Yes," Mordred said.

Arthur's hands curled into fists. Why didn't the boy need to blink?

Aredian carried on some more in this vein until Arthur launched an asked-and-answered objection. On redirect examination, Arthur asked Mordred would be all right without Merlin. His answer made everyone flinch.

"I've been alone before, so yes, I would be all right."

"Thank you, Mordred," Arthur said gently. "You may step down." He wondered, irrationally, if a hug would get the boy to blink. Mordred went to sit beside Hunith on one of the benches, and then it was Will's turn.

As the clerk swore Will in, Arthur prayed silently to whatever gods were listening that, for once in his life, Will would answer a question as asked and not ramble. But ramble Will did. Arthur sneaked a glance at Merlin under cover of checking for any signals from Tristan and saw that Merlin was smiling encouragingly at his best friend. Merlin's patience for fools was utterly incomprehensible and also distractingly endearing. Arthur reined his thoughts in and dragged himself back into his direct examination.

"What was Merlin wearing that day?" he asked.

"Well, he was wearing a pair of jeans. And a blue shirt - plaid, with a red long-sleeved one beneath. A brown jacket. A red scarf. What he wears most days, honestly." Will laughed. "That brown jacket used to be his dad's, I think, because it's huge. You could hide a whole Christmas goose in that thing."

Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes or, in the alternative, reach into the witness box and strangle Will, but then he was a professional and he was on the job. He asked a few more questions to establish Merlin's whereabouts, why he was downtown - delivering medicine, obviously - and to establish, of course, whether or not Merlin had any paint in his possession.

Then it was Bayard's turn to take a crack at him. Arthur was nervous. Both he and Tristan had told Will to answer the questions as asked not to ramble, but if Will's testimony on direct was any indication, their collective admonitions had not taken hold.

"You stated on direct examination that the defendant was wearing a coat?"

"That's right."

Yes or no, Arthur thought. It's not that hard!

Bayard tapped his chin thoughtfully. "You said it was big enough to hide a Christmas goose in?"

Will nodded. "Yeah, so?"

Arthur saw the trap long before Will stepped in it, but there was nothing he could do.

Bayard continued to look pensive, reasonable, and the jurors were all leaning forward in their seats, curious to know what he was thinking about.

"Well, a tin of spray paint is smaller than a Christmas goose, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Will said, and his expression became shuttered, wary. He realized what he'd done, then.

"So...the defendant could have had a tin of spray paint in his jacket?"

"He could have," Will said, "but he didn't."

"Not that you saw, correct?"

Will nodded tightly. "Yes."

So he finally learned how to answer a question properly, only it was too late. Arthur's grip on his pen was white-knuckled, so he folded his hands on his lap so the jurors couldn't see.

Bayard strung Will on a little longer, but by the time he cut Will loose it was apparent to the jury and pretty much everyone in the courtroom that Will had said something he shouldn't have. The jury would remember that mistake, and they would likely make it out to be more important than it was.

Arthur couldn't think of a single useful thing to say on redirect, so he just passed on it altogether and was absurdly grateful when O'Cara called for the lunch recess.

"Arthur," Merlin began, face pale and anxious, but Tristan was showing Arthur the notes he'd taken during the examination.

"We need to talk," Tristan said.

Arthur stared down at the hurried notes and nodded, sighed tiredly. "Yeah. Over food. Let's go. We need to plan."

Tristan handed Arthur his briefcase. "See you in a bit, Merlin."

"That didn't go well at all, did it?" Tristan asked.

Arthur scrubbed a hand over his face. "If only Will had just bloody well answered the questions like I'd asked, we'd have been fine."

Tristan stared down at the battle plan Arthur had drawn up and stuck in the front of his trial binder. "What are we going to do?"

"We advance like we planned," Arthur said.

"In school," Tristan began tentatively, "the professors always said the client should testify last. Last one sticks with the jury and all."

"I know, that's usually true, but with the way Merlin's testimony works - after he gives his side, we have to put Valiant on the stand to prove what Merlin says. And then his face will be the one that sticks with the jury - the actual perpetrator." Arthur flipped past the battle-plan and began leafing through the stack of photographs that he'd cropped as stills from the camera footage he'd gotten from the prosecutor's office. He shuffled through them half-heartedly, staring at the glaring images of the crime scene. Someone had been a little overzealous about taking screencaps from the grainy image. Why so many? And what did they matter?

"It's a risk," Tristan said quietly. "Valiant's a hostile witness. After that deposition he knows you've got his number, and who knows what tricks he has up his sleeve."

"Tricks won't win this case," Arthur said firmly. "The truth will. Remember that." He stared down at his untouched sandwich and wondered what the hell he was doing, bargaining with Merlin's freedom like this. All for his career? No. Not anymore. Arthur rubbed his forehead, unsettled by the realization that he just wanted Merlin to be happy. When had this stopped being about his career? After all, once the trial was done, his place at Drake's office would be all he had left. No Merlin, no family - save Morgana randomly showing up at his office to harass him.

"Are you sure you can do this?" Tristan asked. "I can direct Merlin if you like. I've read over the script a hundred times."

Arthur shook his head. "No. I need to see this through. I'll do it. I'll need you backing me up every step of the way." He smiled grimly. "After I'm gone, you'll be doing this instead, and maybe you can have Erec or Kay backing you up."

"They have more trial experience than I do," Tristan said.

"Which is why they'll back you up for your first few trials," Arthur said. "Leon was second chair for my first full-blown trial." He heaved himself out of his seat. "Come on. Back to the battlefield we go."

Tristan packed up Arthur's sandwich like a mother hen. "You should eat this later," he said. "It won't do you any good if your stomach starts growling in the middle of direct examination. It'll distract the jury." He tried to smile.

Arthur flipped open his binder and stared at the photos some more. "Yeah," he agreed absently.

Tristan rolled his eyes and tugged on Arthur's shoulder. "Come on, Pendragon."

Chapter Text

"Are you ready for this?" Arthur asked. He and Merlin were tucked into an alcove in the hallway outside the courtroom fifteen minutes before the trial resumed.

Merlin was pale and his hands were shaking, but he nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'll just answer the questions like we discussed, and answer yes or no to whatever Aredian asks me, and then it'll be all over. Until Valiant."

Arthur smiled and tried to make it reassuring, but if the way Merlin's eyes widened was any indication, he'd failed. The tension in the air ratcheted up several notches when Merlin bit his lip and looked away and Arthur's gaze became fixed on his mouth. Should a man have a mouth that lush and soft-looking? Arthur wondered, for perhaps the millionth time, what Merlin tasted like. He forced himself to take a deep breath, then another, and step back.

"We should get in there before O'Cara does. She doesn't take tardiness well."

Merlin bobbed his head in assent. Then he reached out and caught Arthur's wrist.

Arthur started at the contact, and Merlin snatched his hand back.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. Just - I want you to know that I'm grateful. No matter how this turns out, I know you fought for me, and when it's over, I'll tell you. Like I promised."

"Tell me what?" Arthur asked, but as soon as the words left his lips he knew. How could he have forgotten?

Merlin blinked at him. "About magic. Remember? We talked about this pretty early on."

Arthur nodded. "Yeah. I - I guess it slipped my mind, what with all that's happened." He resisted the urge to scrub his hand over his face. It was one of his nervous tells, and he was self aware enough to not do it in court, in front of his father, or during a poker game, but trials were draining, and he was only running at about half energy anyway. After staring at his shoes for a few moments he wished, desperately, for a cup of coffee.

"You all right?" Merlin asked.

"Just - I really need some coffee, and we have no time to get down to the cafeteria." Arthur started for the massive double doors. "Come on. Tristan probably thinks I've murdered you."

"Wait," Merlin said. "Here."

Arthur turned.

Merlin was holding a cup of coffee.

"What on earth...?" Arthur asked, and then he noticed Merlin's sheepish smile.

"Take it." Merlin held it out.

Arthur darted a nervous glance down the hallway to either side. "You didn't - magic? Out in public?"

"It's not illegal to do it," Merlin said. "Just - most people have to be registered."

Arthur accepted the steaming cup and sniffed it warily. "Is it real coffee?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Yes. It's actual coffee with actual caffeine. Just like the swill Owen makes using that outdated machine at your office. Now come on - we'd better get a move on."

"I want you to know that we're going to win," Arthur said.

Merlin nudged Arthur's shoulder with his. "You're awfully confident."

"Yes, well, I can afford to be."

Merlin huffed. "You're also an arrogant prat."

"Really," Arthur said, keeping his expression wide-eyed and guileless. "We're going to win."

"How can you be sure?"

"Well, I'm Arthur Pendragon, aren't I?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "That's not an answer."

Arthur grinned. "Yes, it is."

Together, they strode into the courtroom, Arthur sipping gratefully from the magicked coffee. It tasted real, and by the time he had his trial binder all set up and ready to go, the first rush of caffeine felt real as well. The bailiff called the all rise, and then court was back in session.

Arthur rose, buttoned his jacket. "The defense calls Merlin Emrys to the stand."

Arthur and Merlin crossed the well of the court together, Merlin to step into the witness box, Arthur to stand beside the jury box. Direct examination was always done best next to the jury box so that while the attorney and witness were having their conversation, the witness could maintain eye contact with the jury.

Once the clerk swore Merlin in, Arthur took a few deep breaths, and then he looked Merlin in the eye. Merlin was perched nervously on the edge of his seat, but he kept his chin up and his gaze steady. For one moment, Arthur was struck by how truly lovely Merlin was, all pale skin and bright blue eyes, soft dark hair and elegant cheekbones. Briefly, Arthur wondered if the jury could see what he felt for Merlin, and then he realized that, for the next twenty minutes, he couldn't afford to care.

"Good afternoon. Please, introduce yourself to the jury."

Merlin leaned in to the little microphone. "My name is Merlin Emrys."

"Where do you live?"

"In the Dells in midtown, here in Camelot."

"What do you do for a living?" Arthur looked at the jury as he asked the question to keep them focused on him, but at the end he shifted his gaze to Merlin, and the jury's gaze followed.

Per Tristan's suggestion, Merlin kept his gaze on Arthur as Arthur asked the question, then slid his gaze to the jury as he answered. Keeping the jury's attention where it was supposed to be was a psychological shell game of sorts - all about misdirection with the eyes. "I'm an apothecary's assistant at a shop here in the city."

"What does your job entail?"

"Assisting with the preparation of medicine, cleaning and organizing the shop, and delivering medicine to patients."

"Have you ever had cause to paint anything while working at the shop?" Arthur asked.

Merlin shook his head. "No. Gaius - the man who owns the shop - won't let me near the paint. I'm too much of a disaster with it. No artistic skill, he says."

Arthur nodded and paused, let the information sink in before he moved on. Direct examination was a careful balance of informing the jury and not wasting their attention span. "What do you do for fun?"

"Well, I like to read," Merlin said. "My roommate Will and I - we quite like swimming at the local pool, and we also sometimes go bowling, but I'm pretty terrible at that too."

"What else do you do?"

"Well, I mentor a boy named Mordred. Mostly it involves helping him with his homework and failing to beat him at chess." Merlin ducked his head and smiled, blushing, and Arthur was quite sure he heard someone on the jury - or perhaps even more than one person - sigh fondly.

"Let's talk about what happened on September 13," Arthur said. "What did you do first that morning?"

And Merlin launched into the tale. Since he covered pretty much what Hunith, Gaius, Mordred, and Will had already testified to, Arthur let Merlin give long answers to fairly open-ended questions. For the most part, the jury stuck with Merlin; after all, he had a pleasant voice and a sweet smile. Arthur clasped his hands behind his back and reached up his own sleeve, pinched himself on the forearm so he'd stay focused. It was a common enough trial technique, to gloss over the background information quickly and then slow down, zero in on the important information so the jury would sit up and take notice. It was also easy to get distracted by the way Merlin was so animated.

The key to highlighting important parts of the testimony was short answers to lots of questions so that the information came with the same intensity of a cross examination. It also involved a lot of looping answers into questions so the jury heard everything twice.

"Why did you go downtown?" Arthur asked.

"To deliver medicine to patients."

"Where downtown did you deliver medicine?"

"Several patients live in an apartment building on Farnham Street," Merlin said.

"How did you get to Farnham Street?" Arthur asked.

Merlin shrugged. "I parked my car up on Douglas and then walked down 20th to the apartment building on Farnham."

Arthur nodded. "When you were walking along 20th between Douglas and Farnham, what streets did you pass?"

"I passed by the alley on Hamilton and 20th," Merlin said, which was precisely where the crime had taken place.

"While you were near the alley on Hamilton and 2oth," Arthur began, and cast a glance at the jury, "did you see anything?"

"Yes."

"What did you see?"

"A man dressed in black. He was wearing a black balaclava over his face, too."

"How did you notice the man in black?" Arthur asked.

"He called out to me."

"What did he say?" Arthur asked.

Aredian was on his feet in an instant. "Objection! Hearsay."

O'Cara beckoned Arthur and Aredian toward the bench. "What's your response, counsel?"

"Your Honor, the witness's testimony is not hearsay. If he were allowed to testify, I expect that he would say that the man in black exclaimed 'catch', which is not a statement but a command and is not offered for the truth of the matter asserted. Since the command is not offered for the truth of the matter asserted, it's not conceptual hearsay." The answer rolled off of Arthur's tongue smoothly, just as he'd learned in school. It had worked a hundred times before and it worked now.

O'Cara nodded. "Overruled. You may continue."

Aredian all but stomped back to the prosecution's counsel table. Arthur resumed his place beside the jury box with much more aplomb, and he inclined his head at Merlin, half apology, half reassurance. "Let me ask that question again, Mr. Emrys. What did the man in black say when he called out to you?"

"He said 'catch' and then threw something at me," Merlin said.

Again with the pause to let the jury absorb the information. It had taken Arthur a long time to learn the requisite patience for an effective direct, but he had learned it and he needed it now.

"What did he throw at you?"

"A tin of spray paint."

"How do you know it was a tin of spray paint?"

"I caught it and looked at it and, well, I've seen one before," Merlin said.

"What happened next?"

"Next thing I knew, there were flashing lights and sirens and about half a dozen police officers jumping on me." Merlin cast a slightly anxious look at the jury, and Arthur could practically feel the sympathy rolling off of the elderly women in waves. They were probably thinking things like poor lamb and imagining delicate, pretty Merlin being tackled by fat oafs like Colgrenant.

Arthur really needed to stop thinking of his client as pretty in the middle of direct.

"Did you tell the police who you had seen?"

"Yes, I did."

"Did they look for him?"

"Not that I saw, no."

Here came the tricky part. "Do you know who the man in the black balaclava is?"

Merlin nodded. "I do."

Out of the corner of Arthur's eye, he could see some of the jurors looked shocked. A couple of the ones Arthur had pegged as pro-prosecution were casting Bayard and Aredian skeptical looks.

"How do you know him?" Arthur asked.

"A few weeks after the incident, he came into the shop where I work," Merlin said, "and he spoke to me, and I recognized his voice."

"Did you tell the police about him?"

"Yes."

"Did they look for him?"

"Not that I know, no of. I suppose, if they had, I wouldn't be here on trial now, would I?" Something bleak gathered in Merlin's eyes, and Arthur knew that it had nothing to do with the possibility of incarceration at the outcome of the trial.

"Can you identify the man whose voice you recognized?" Arthur asked.

"Yes."

"Is he in the courtroom here today?"

Bayard craned his neck with everyone else to see who Merlin could possibly point out while Aredian tore through the defense witness list like a madman, pausing only to cast Arthur murderous glares.

Merlin scanned the public gallery, and then he nodded. "Yes."

"Please point him out and describe an article of clothing he's wearing."

Merlin lifted a hand and pointed. "He's sitting on the third row behind the prosecution counsel table wearing a black suit and a black-and-green tie."

The expression on Aredian's face was probably the one Arthur had worn when he'd spotted Uther Pendragon on his witness list.

"Let the record reflect that the witness has identified Valiant West," Arthur said, voice ringing clearly across the court. The silence that fell after his words was heavy. The jurors stared at Valiant, and Arthur let them. Then he said, "No further questions, Your Honor." He smiled briefly at Merlin and then resumed his seat beside Tristan. He wouldn't let himself get too comfortable and he remained on the edge of his seat, ready to leap up and object should Aredian cross any lines with Merlin.

Aredian marched across the courtroom to force Merlin to break eye-contact with the jury. His first question was fast and furious.

"You're an unregistered mage, aren't you?"

Arthur was out of his seat in an instant. "Objection! Relevance?"

Aredian's face was twisted in an ugly sneer before he turned to O'Cara. "Credibility is always relevant, Your Honor."

Arthur's hands curled into fists. "Whether or not the witness is a mage has no bearing on his credibility."

"That fact that he's unregistered fully bears on his credibility," Aredian said, and he was practically gloating. Whether or not all of the jurors picked up on it, Aredian had just announced to the entire court that Merlin was, in fact, a mage.

O'Cara arched an eyebrow. "What's your response, Counsel?"

"The witness is not required by law to register," Arthur said, jaw tight, "so the fact that he is unregistered has no bearing on his credibility." He gazed at O'Cara, begging her to dismiss the jury so they wouldn't hear this, but she did no such thing. "Permission to approach the bench, Your Honor?"

O'Cara shook her head. "No need. Objection sustained."

When Arthur and Aredian returned to their respective places, the jury peered first at Merlin, then at Aredian, wide-eyed and wary of the tension in the room. Aredian conferred briefly with Bayard before continuing his cross-examination. He cast Arthur a look that was slow, measuring, and cruel. Then he resumed speaking to Merlin. This time his tone was slow, deliberate, but the pressure in the room was mounting, and the jurors could see that Merlin was fighting not to say the wrong thing. Arthur could see that, for the first time this entire trial, Merlin was genuinely afraid.

"You didn't see the face of the man in black, did you?"

"Not on September 13, no."

"So you did see his face later?"

"Yes."

"When was this?"

"October 20," Merlin said.

"So you knew it was him by his face?"

"No."

"How did you know him?" Aredian's tone was skeptical, disdainful.

"By his voice." Merlin's voice was tight, angry.

"So you saw his face and knew his voice?" Aredian amped up the skepticism for the jury.

"No."

"Then how did you know him?" Now Aredian sounded puzzled, as if what Merlin was saying didn't make sense at all.

Arthur was fed up with the games. "Objection - asked and answered."

"Move along, counselor," O'Cara said.

Arthur's hands curled into fists when he saw the fear in Merlin's eyes.

"You knew the symbol on the wall?"

"Yes."

"It was a pro-mage symbol?"

"Yes."

"You're pro-mage, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"You've been in pro-mage protests?"

"Yes."

"And rallies?"

"Yes."

Each yes was damning for the tension and fear they bred Merlin's eyes, for the way Aredian's smugness grew and grew, as if he were winning and Merlin were clearly losing. Arthur itched to scoop up Excalibur and ram it through the back of Aredian's skull.

"If all the man in black to you said was 'catch', how did you recognize his voice the second time?" Aredian asked.

Merlin lifted his chin. "Because he threw something at me and said, 'catch', the second time."

Aredian arched an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Yes."

"So a man who happens to be an employee of your greatest political enemy happened to repeat the same exact phrase as the alleged man in black?"

Merlin nodded firmly. "Yes. And no."

"It can't be both, can it?" Aredian looked amused and scornful all at once.

"Uther Pendragon isn't my greatest political enemy," Merlin said. "But his employee did repeat the same phrase as the man in black because he was the man in black because they have the same voice."

Aredian looked rather less amused at this, and he badgered Merlin some about his whereabouts during the day, why he walked, and why he didn't ask for an attorney at the police station, but in the end he gave up and sat down. Arthur felt a rush of relief when Aredian stopped pressing at Merlin, but he knew better than to let his guard down.

"Redirect, counsel?" O'Cara asked.

Arthur stood up, buttoned his jacket, didn't leave the table. "One question, Mr. Emrys. How did you know recognize Mr. West's voice?"

Merlin pressed his lips into a thin line. Then he said, "I've replayed it in my mind a thousand times. Ever since I realized that the government fully intended to put me in jail over a case of mistaken identity, I've focused on finding the man who actually committed the crime, and I know his voice. When I heard it the second time, I wasn't looking for him, I wasn't expecting him, but I knew it."

Arthur resisted the urge to smile. "Nothing further, Your Honor."

O'Cara nodded. "The witness may step down."

Merlin returned to the defense counsel table with his head held high. As he passed Arthur, he flashed him a bright, brief grin. And then he slid into place beside Tristan. Tristan pushed the notepad toward him, probably drawn with a series of smiley faces and hug emoticons, because Tristan seemed averse to using words.

Arthur stared down at the pages and pages of steno he'd written and supposed he couldn't judge an aversion to the Roman alphabet.

"Any further witnesses, Counsel?" O'Cara asked.

Arthur took a deep breath. The last battle always had to be the hardest, didn't it? He stood up. "The defense calls Valiant West."

The jurors craned their necks to watch as Valiant heaved himself out of the public gallery and stepped into the well of the court, into the jury box. The clerk swore him in, and then he sat down. He shot Arthur a smirk, and Arthur felt his heart begin to pound. That expression wasn't good. Arthur wondered what his father might have done, but he pushed that thought aside. Uther Pendragon was many things - ruthless, unrelenting, dogmatic - but he wasn't dishonorable. Valiant, on the other hand, was an unknown quantity, and Arthur had learned to assume the worst about a hostile witness.

As Arthur approached the jury box, he had the foreboding notion that he was approaching a duel to the death. He and Valiant sized each other up, and there it came again, the rush of pre-battle adrenaline. Arthur could remember the way he'd slide into the zone before a fencing bout, and he let the same eerie calm come over him.

He was ready for anything.

"Please introduce yourself to the jury."

"My name is Valiant West." His tone was even, challenging.

"Where do you live?"

"Here in Camelot. On the west side."

Arthur kept his tone equally neat and even, calm. "What do you do for a living?"

"I am Uther Pendragon's personal bodyguard and chaffeur," Valiant said.

Here it came. Arthur took a deep breath - and really, with all the deep breathing he did, he should have been more serene than Buddha at this point. "Let's talk about September 13. Where were you that day?"

"I was working for Mr. Pendragon."

"I didn't ask what you were doing, I asked where you were; so, where were you?"

"Lots of places." Valiant shot the jury a smirk, then turned back to Arthur.

He was in a mood to play, was he? "List them in chronological order, please."

"Well, I started off at home, and then I went in to the office. Then I drove wherever Mr. Pendragon wanted me to go. And then I went home." Valiant cocked his head to one side. "Shouldn't you know where Mr. Pendragon went? You're his son, after all."

Valiant had to know what was going on between Uther and Arthur and was trying to get a rise out of Arthur. Arthur, however, was a professional, and he wasn't going to let one smirking git get the better of him. "Was there any time during your workday during which you were not with Mr. Pendragon?"

"Sure there was," Valiant said, "but I doubt the jury wants to hear about my bathroom breaks."

Some of the jurors snickered. O'Cara glared and banged her gavel. "Order."

Arthur did his best to project an air of calm composure. "On September 13, did you absent yourself from Mr. Pendragon while in possession of the car?"

Valiant lifted his chin defiantly. "No."

"Are you sure about that?" Arthur asked.

"I am."

Arthur crossed the well of the court to where Tristan was already holding out a clean copy of Valiant's deposition transcript.

"Did you give a deposition related to this case?" Arthur asked.

Valiant shook his head. "No."

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur could see that Aredian was grinning.

Arthur turned to O'Cara. "Your Honor, permission to treat the witness as hostile?"

Bayard was on his feet. "The witness is answering the questions, Your Honor. Just because Mr. Pendragon doesn't like the answers doesn't mean the witness is being hostile."

"This is a direct examination," O'Cara said, "and he's your witness. It's up to you to control him."

Arthur inclined his head politely, though inside he was seething. O'Cara had just announced to the jury that Arthur had lost control of his own witness. "Yes, Your Honor." He set the deposition back down on the table and ignored Tristan's panicked hiss of, "What are you doing?" Arthur rifled through his stack of exhibits and then scooped up two photographs, still frames from a security feed. If Valiant wanted to be difficult, Arthur would show him difficult.

He marched over to the prosecution's table and showed them the exhibits, one of which they had entered themselves. He reeled off the law school formula, ever conscious of making a record of every single thing he did in court.

"Let the record reflect that I am showing Mr. Bayard Government Exhibit 37 and Defense Exhibit 16 for identification."

Bayard poked at one of them.

"What's this one?"

"Simply a crop and enlargement of the previous photo," Arthur said.

Bayard showed the photo to Aredian, who nodded and smirked at Arthur. Bayard handed the photos back and Arthur turned.

"May I approach the witness, Your Honor?"

"You may."

Arthur could feel O'Cara and the jurors watching him curiously. They could all tell that Arthur had been derailed from his previous line of questioning when he'd lost the argument to treat Valiant as hostile. They could also tell that Valiant was out of his control. That wouldn't last for long.

Arthur marched up to the witness box and angled himself so he could look at the jury at the same time as showing Valiant the photos.

"Mr. West, I'm showing you what has been previously entered into evidence as Government's Exhibit 37," he said, "as well as Defense Exhibit 16 for identification, which is an enlargement of a portion of Government's Exhibit 37, which the parties have stipulated is authenticated."

"What about them?" Valiant asked.

"Do you recognize Defense Exhibit 16 for identification?" Arthur asked.

"I've never seen this photo before, no," Valiant said.

Arthur bit the inside of his lip to avoid shouting at Valiant to stop being a stubborn berk. Then he said, "Do you recognize what is contained in Defense Exhibit 16 for identification?"

Valiant made a great show of peering it. "No."

Arthur sighed. "Mr. West, what kind of car do you drive for Mr. Pendragon?"

"A black Rolls Royce."

"What is the license plate on that car?"

"EF 3393," Valiant said. "What does that matter?"

Arthur had to resist the urge to smirk. Smirking was unbecoming in the middle of an examination of a witness. "Mr. West, what kind of car is in depicted in Defense Exhibit 16 for identification?"

Valiant shrugged. "A black Rolls Royce."

"What is the license plate depicted on the car in Defense Exhibit 16 for identification?"

Valiant went to shrug carelessly again, but then he paused. "Er...EF 3393."

"Would it be fair to say that the car depicted in Exhibit 16 is the car you drive for Uther Pendragon?" Arthur asked. He kept his tone even and polite, but Valiant shot him a murderous glare. So he'd cottoned on to the trap, then. Good. Maybe he would behave.

"Yes," Valiant said.

Arthur turned to O'Cara. "Your Honor, I move Defense Exhibit 16 for identification into evidence."

"Any objections, Counsel?" O'Cara asked.

Bayard shook his head. "No, Your Honor."

"The exhibit is received."

Arthur held out the second photo to Valiant. "Do you recognize what has been previously entered into evidence as Government Exhibit 37?"

"Yes," Valiant said warily.

"What is Government Exhibit 37?"

"A photograph of the car I drive for Mr. Pendragon parked on the street. What about it?" Valiant was getting uppity again, was he?

Arthur pointed to the photograph. "Mr. West, let me direct your attention to the street signs depicted in Government Exhibit 37. What do they read?"

Valiant squinted at the photo. "Hamilton and...20th."

Arthur glanced at the jurors and saw that some of them were puzzled, but some of them had made the connection. No matter - Arthur would be sure to paint a very clear picture of what everything meant on closing. "Let me direct your attention to the date and time stamp in the bottom left corner of Government Exhibit 37. Would you please read it to the court?"

"It says, er, September 13, 2009, 2:37 p.m.," Valiant said. He still seemed puzzled about the relevance of the photograph, but Arthur didn't care. Valiant would find out what it all meant during closing arguments - if he cared to show up. Otherwise he would find out when the police came to arrest him. If Aredian bothered to prosecute.

Arthur asked a few brief questions to establish what Valiant was wearing on September 13; Valiant tried to be difficult and pretend he didn't remember, so Arthur asked Valiant questions about his uniform that he couldn't evade without looking like an idiot. once Valiant admitted that his uniform was black and he wore it every day, Arthur then pinned Valiant into admitting that he'd been in Gaius's shop on October 20. When Valiant tried to be difficult then, Arthur asked if Valiant's deposition testimony given under oath or the shop's security feed would help refresh his memory. After that, Valiant was a cooperative, if unhappy witness.

Arthur glanced at the jurors and saw that most of them were glaring at Valiant, which he deserved, not only because he'd framed Merlin but because he'd been an obnoxious git on the stand. Still, Arthur had gotten what he'd wanted from Valiant, and that was testimony tantamount to an admission of guilt. He turned to O'Cara.

"May I publish Government's Exhibit 37 and Defense Exhibit 16 to the jury?"

"You may," O'Cara said.

Arthur passed the two photographs into the jury box and let the jurors examine them thoroughly. He looked right at Aredian as he said, "No further questions, Your Honor." As he walked back to the defense counsel table, he glanced toward the back of the courtroom, and he saw his father - Uther - standing by the double doors in the rear. Uther's expression was unreadable. Arthur tore his gaze away and sat down next to Tristan.

Tristan shoved the notepad at him. Where the hell did you find those?

Arthur scribbled back, In the government's own evidence.

Why didn't you tell me you had it?

I wanted Valiant to admit it for himself.

Why were you afraid of losing if you had that up your sleeve?

The government might not have entered Exhibit 37.

O'Cara's voice cut through the flurry of note-passing.

"Cross-examination, counsel?"

Bayard rose to his feet, buttoned his jacket, then shook his head. "No cross, Your Honor."

"Any further witnesses from the defense?"

Arthur stood up. "No, Your Honor. The defense rests." He darted a glance at Bayard, whose face was blank but whose eyes were grim. "May I approach, Your Honor?"

O'Cara beckoned. "Let me guess. You're renewing your motion for judgment of acquittal?"

Arthur nodded.

O'Cara slewed Bayard a look. "And you oppose it?"

Bayard nodded.

"Motion denied," O'Cara said. "We'll hear closings tomorrow."

Arthur and Bayard retreated to their respective sides of the courtroom and O'Cara announced that court was adjourned until the following day for closing arguments. As soon as she banged her gavel, Merlin was out of his seat, halfway over to Arthur. Tristan put a hand on his arm and forced him to stay in place until the judge and jury were out of the room. Then Merlin bounded over to Arthur, wide-eyed and grinning fiercely.

"You never told me you had a magic bullet! That's why you were so sure we'd win." Merlin reached out to tug Arthur into a hug, and Arthur stepped back, arms up in a defensive posture.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" Arthur managed to laugh it off as masculine indignation, but it took Merlin a moment to catch on.

At first he looked hurt, but then he saw Tristan rolling his eyes and he laughed it off a little as well. "Thought you were going in for a hug."

"Arthur Pendragon's too much of a man to give hugs," Tristan said drily.

Arthur elbowed him. "Shut up."

"But we're going to win," Merlin said. "That was amazing out there!"

"Battle's not won yet," Tristan warned. "We still have closings to get through."

Merlin punched Arthur on the shoulder a little too hard - clearly he wasn't used to proper masculine interaction. "We'll do great. I know we will."

"Is that a royal 'we'?" Arthur asked.

"Only for you, your highness," Merlin said, and executed a mock bow.

Tristan held up his mobile. "Leon says the others are getting drinks tonight. Want to come with?"

"No," Arthur said. "I should be sober for closings, thanks."

"You will be sober." Tristan grinned. "Just maybe a little hung over."

"Can't afford to be hung over either," Arthur said.

"Well, if you change your mind," Tristan began, and then his eyes went wide. "Er, good afternoon, Mr. Pendragon."

Arthur sighed. "Tristan, I thought we were past this. You can call me Arthur."

Behind Arthur, Uther Pendragon cleared his throat.

"If you don't mind, Mr. Marks, Mr. Emrys," he said.

Tristan emitted a rather ungainly sound that, had he been a woman, would have been called a squeak, and beat a hasty retreat. A moment later, he returned and dragged Merlin with him.

"Uther," Arthur said evenly.

"Arthur. We should talk outside." Uther never asked for anything.

Arthur scooped up his trial binder and his briefcase and then gestured toward the door. "After you."

They ended up in the hallway off to one side, away from the main traffic. For a long moment they stood staring at each other, neither of them willing to break eye contact or back down. Whatever Uther wanted to say, Arthur wasn't going to be submissive about the encounter.

Some small part of him hoped that, for the first time in history, Uther Pendragon was going to apologize. "What did you want to talk about?"

"The trial isn't over yet," Uther said.

"Indeed," Arthur said, wary. Uther wasn't one for stating the obvious unless he was prevaricating.

"You've done an excellent job, son," Uther said, and the tension that had knotted so fiercely in Arthur's chest began to loosen. Uther had called him son. "You really are an exceptional litigator."

"Thank you, Father," Arthur said cautiously. He kept his tone perfunctory and polite, as if he were being addressed by a colleague and nothing more.

"That being said, you still have a chance to withdraw. Let Tristan deliver the closing."

The tension in Arthur's chest snapped back into place, and for a moment he couldn't breathe he was so utterly frustrated. "What? Why? You've seen that this isn't a case about magic. After all, why would your bodyguard be pro-mage?"

Uther put a hand on Arthur's shoulder; for the first time, Arthur wanted to shake him off. "Son, you don't have anything to prove anymore. That junior partnership is still open, and you know it's yours."

The junior partnership that was supposed to go to Morgana. No. Arthur wasn't going to betray her. Arthur clenched his jaw. When he could breathe properly again, he said,

"When I finish this trial, I'll have earned my place in Drake's firm."

"Is this trial really about that job?" Uther asked.

Yes! Arthur wanted to shout. It's not like you've reversed disowning me! The job is what I have left - Morgana will take the junior partnership and Merlin will walk away and never look back. Arthur stepped away from Uther, dislodging his hand. Even now, he still couldn't show quite enough insolence to actually shake Uther off. "This trial is about doing the right thing. Valiant tried to frame Merlin, and Merlin is innocent."

Uther's expression clouded over. "I have nothing to do with Valiant's actions."

"I didn't suggest you did," Arthur said. "I was just pointing out the facts as they are."

"Arthur, please, do what's right, for justice," Uther said. "The boy is a magic user."

"I am doing what's right for justice," Arthur said. "Merlin is a person."

"Why are you being so obstinate about this?" Uther demanded. "Why would you dishonor your mother's memory so?"

"I'm not being obstinate," Arthur said, and the tension in his chest turned into the twist of a knife at the mention of his mother. "You taught me to always do the right thing, to stand up for justice even if I have to stand alone, and clearly, in this instance, I have to stand alone. And this isn't dishonoring my mother's memory. I'm not doing this to spite her or to spite you - I'm doing this because it's right."

"Your mother would be disappointed in you." Uther shook his head and turned away.

Arthur felt the breath leave his lungs, and he could only watch as his father walked away.

Uther's footsteps had long faded before Arthur could bring himself to move. He fished in his pocket for his car keys; he was going straight home. To sit in the dark.

But his keys weren't in his pocket. Arthur opened his briefcase and even his trial binder and patted himself down twice more, but his keys were gone. Then he remembered - he'd set them on the table so they wouldn't jangle as he moved through the courtroom. He started toward the double doors. If he didn't find them, he'd alert the bailiff, clerk, and security, and then he'd bloody well walk home. The doorman could let him into his flat.

Arthur pushed open the door and paused when he heard voices.

"We're just going in circles, Morgana. I have to tell him." That was Merlin. He sounded frustrated and distressed.

"You can't. His relationship with his father is ruined as it is," Morgana said. "It's best if he doesn't know."

They're talking about me, Arthur realized. He hadn't even seen Morgana in the public gallery during the trial. Didn't she have hearings of her own she'd had scheduled for the day? She'd joked about coming to the trial and distracting him by pulling funny faces during his direct, but then she'd confessed she had hearings of her own to handle during Merlin's trial. What did she want with Merlin? What was it that she didn't want Arthur to know?

"I don't want to hurt him," Merlin said. "Imagine how he'll feel if he finds out we kept this from him."

We, Merlin had said. Arthur closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Suddenly it made sense - Morgana constantly poking her nose into the case, Merlin refusing to speak about the so-called knitting circle. The speech about magic in Arthur's office, Morgana's denials - they were all false. Morgana and Merlin really were together.

Arthur felt a sob rise in his throat and bit it back. Leon had told him and Arthur had told the other defenders that came after him, No case is worth your tears. That's all this was, then - Arthur's last case as a public defender.

"Morgana, I promised him I'd tell him, and I will. He deserves to know," Merlin said.

"Like I deserved to know about my magic even though Gaius told you not to tell me?" Morgana demanded.

"Yes!" Merlin cried.

"It hasn't done me any good, lying through my teeth to Uther every time I have to sit with him through those horrid family dinners while he rants and raves about how evil magic is." Morgana sounded like she was ready to cry.

Arthur's eyes came open.

Morgana had magic.

Suddenly the knitting circle made even more sense.

"Morgana," Merlin said, and his voice was low, urgent. Arthur leaned in to hear better. "Arthur deserves to know the truth."

"How will that help him?"

"He was born of magic!" Merlin cried. "The only reason Arthur Pendragon is alive is because of magic."

Arthur's world began to tilt sideways. Magic was what was keeping him alive? Was he supposed to be dead?

"What, you think Arthur knowing that his life is at the expense of his mother's will make him feel better?" Morgana's voice was shrill with disbelief and anger.

"Maybe knowing that Uther didn't know the consequences of asking Nimueh for help might help Arthur understand where his father is coming from," Merlin said. "Nimueh was young and inexperienced, Uther wanted a son, Ygraine agreed - there was no way anyone could have known whose life the Old Religion would take. Uther blames Nimueh, but he's also grieving for his wife. And knowing that Arthur, the son he always wanted, is alive at his mother's expense - when he looks so like his mother - it probably explains Arthur's awful relationship with his father. It might help if Arthur knew that."

"No," Morgana said. "You don't know the Pendragon mind. The knowledge that Arthur was born of magic will just drive them further apart."

"I promised him I'd tell him," Merlin said in a low voice. "I keep my promises."

"Arthur's not ready for that kind of knowledge." Morgana sounded calmer now.

"I won't tell him about your magic," Merlin said. "That's not my secret to tell. But he deserves to know the truth - that magic can be used for the ultimate good, to create life."

"Merlin, please."

"I'm telling him. Tomorrow, after the trial, no matter the verdict."

"You cannot imagine that he'll lose," Morgana said.

"No, he won't. He's Arthur Pendragon." Merlin's voice was almost fond.

Morgana sighed. "Fine. If I can't change your mind --"

"You can't."

"--Good night."

"Good night, Morgana."

Arthur had to leap back to avoid getting hit in the face by the door.

Merlin came up short. "Arthur," he breathed. His blue eyes were wide with horror.

"I suppose," Arthur said, "I'm duty-bound to win, now that you've told me what I'm supposed to know."

Morgana looked stricken. "Arthur --"

He spun around and started for the stairs.

Footsteps clattered behind him. "Arthur, wait." It was Merlin. He put a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

Arthur paused, turned to him. "Tell me, Merlin, if I was born of magic, why don't I have magic?"

Merlin lowered his gaze. "It's more complicated than that. You don't have magic, you were just born of magic. It's not the same thing."

Morgana had followed Merlin. She stood at the top of the steps, gazing down at Arthur with something like pity in her eyes. Arthur despised pity.

"Morgana, you told me that my mother's death was an accident."

"It was," Morgana said. "Nimueh told Uther - magic cannot create life where there is none. To make a life, one must be given, but there was no way to know which one the magic would take. Your mother's death was an accident - no one could have known it would happen." Her voice was pleading. Morgana never pleaded with anyone.

"Either way," Arthur said, "if I had never been born, my mother would still be alive."

"Arthur, don't ever --" Merlin choked on the word. "Don't ever think of yourself like that."

"It's true, isn't it? If it weren't for me, my mother would still be alive and my father would be happy." Whatever rage Arthur might have felt at Morgana and Merlin, his father, everyone keeping this from him, it was gone. He just felt numb and hollow inside.

"Arthur, Uther loves you," Morgana started, but Arthur cut her off with a shake of his head. He didn't need to say a word, simply met her gaze and she knew what Arthur was thinking of. They both knew too well all of the times Arthur had felt like he wasn't good enough for his father's affection, that any praise Uther deigned to bestow on Arthur was either after the utmost effort or as a political manipulation, to drive the point home to others that the Pendragon name was still one to be feared and revered now that Arthur was following in his father's footsteps.

"I'm going home," Arthur said. He turned around and walked away.

Arthur wasn't sure how he got back into his flat. He must have spoken to the doorman or something, because when he finally swam out of the haze of numbness, he was sitting on his couch with his guitar across his knees, staring into the darkness. The pages of his closing argument were scattered across the coffee table and carpet; Arthur knew he should have been reading and rereading it to make sure he knew it off by heart.

But he just...didn't care anymore. About anything.

He wasn't even supposed to exist.

Everything his father had done - hating mages and fighting to oppress them - had been redirected anger - anger at the fact that Arthur was alive, that magic and Arthur had killed Ygraine.

Arthur began picking idle chords on his guitar, wondering for a melody that would work some life back into his soul. He knew he was in a bad place when he landed on Patrick Wolf's Wind in the Wires. Any other time, he'd have laughed at his own pathetic state, but now he didn't care.

The problem with the blues, Arthur decided, was that playing them when he felt "blue" didn't cheer him up, nor did they communicate what he was feeling. Honestly, playing the blues was fun more than anything, improvising with a friend. Arthur tried a few blues scales anyway, staring at the blank television screen. He studied his reflection and realized that he was still wearing his suit. He hadn't even taken off his tie - he'd just loosened the knot, and for one moment, he was looking at his seventeen-year-old self, almost finished with boarding school and determined to return home and impress his father with all he'd done.

I don't want to think about my father, Arthur thought, and he set his guitar aside. He scanned the room some more, and he spotted some plates on the center island in the kitchen. There was a bottle of wine open to breathe and a wineglass. Apparently, in his haze of emotional what-have-you, he'd remembered to eat and apparently planned to drink. Arthur heaved himself off the couch and padded into the kitchen to pour himself a glass. As he stood on the cold tile, staring at the swirling red liquid, he remembered Tristan's invitation to drink and his own protests that he couldn't afford to be hung over tomorrow.

Arthur lifted the glass and took a long swallow, enough that Morgana, had she been present, would have smacked him in the arm and accused him of fulfilling the stereotype of the alcoholic lawyer.

Arthur didn't want to think about her either. He reached up undid his tie, hung it over the back of one of the bar chairs. He shrugged off his jacket and toed off his socks, unbuttoned his shirt with one hand and poured himself some more wine with the other.

"Arthur."

He jumped, almost spilled red wine down his white shirt and bare chest. "Who's there?" He set down the wine bottle, inched a hand toward the steak knives on the counter.

"It's just me." A figure stepped out of the shadows near the doorway, coalesced into pale skin and long limbs and unruly dark hair. Merlin.

Arthur swallowed hard. "How did you get in?" Magic?

"You left your keys in the courtroom." Merlin hung them on the hook next to the door. "Arthur --"

"Thank you for returning my keys." Arthur took a long pull from the wine bottle.

Merlin's face was pale, his eyes wide with something like - fear. He was afraid of Arthur? No. He was afraid of what Arthur might say, might do. Perhaps he had reason to be afraid.

"I wanted to make sure you were all right as well," Merlin said.

"Really?" Arthur asked. "I thought our original agreement was what I would represent you, you'd tell me what the entire rest of the world seemed to already know, and then you would walk away. A sound plan - I'd get to deal with the aftermath myself." He set the wine bottle down and straightened up. "Did everyone know but me?"

Merlin shook his head. "No. I'm pretty sure most people think Nimueh was experimenting with a spell and your mother was caught in the blast radius and it was sheer luck that the doctors saved you."

"Then how do you know the truth?"

Merlin bit his lip.

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Well?" He remembered why he didn't like drinking that much - it made him emotional, too much too quickly. He'd spent the last who knew how many hours being emotionally numb. Strong emotion was bubbling just beneath the surface of his tenuous composure, and one wrong move would shatter him.

"Nimueh told me," Merlin said.

Icy shock washed over Arthur. He hadn't thought he'd be able to feel something like that again, not with the tiny born of magic chorus that had been haunting him all night.

"You know her?"

"I met her once," Merlin said. "She's dead now, though."

"I see." Arthur drank some more wine. He set the bottle back down on the counter, stared expectantly at Merlin.

The silence between them was heavy with unspoken accusations and apologies.

Merlin sucked in a deep breath. "Well. I'll just be going then."

Arthur nodded mutely. He watched as Merlin turned away and headed for the door. Merlin paused and sighed. He turned back to Arthur and crossed the room, came to stand in the kitchen opposite him. The moonlight cast blue shadows on Merlin's hair, highlighted the elegant lines of his cheekbones. Made his mouth look even softer.

"I was also going to give this to you when the trial got over, but...It's just closing arguments tomorrow, isn't it? You won't even really have to talk to me or see me, and seeing how you and I can never - we can never - well. You probably don't want to after all this anyway, do you?"

Arthur just looked at him.

"Here. Hope it makes you smile." Merlin set something down on the counter, something rectangular and flat.

Arthur leaned forward slightly, peered at it, and saw that it was - a photograph. Of a blonde woman. It was clearly some sort of formal portrait, for the woman wore a lovely gown and was sitting properly.

"Who is it?" he asked.

Merlin blinked, confused at Arthur's confusion, and he reached out, pushed the photograph closer. "It's your mother."

Arthur's heart lodged itself in his throat. "Where --" His voice caught. "Where did you get this?"

"Nimueh," Merlin said. "She and your mother were friends before...before."

Arthur scooped up the photograph and cradled it in his hands. He stared down at his mother's face, tracing every line, every feature. Did he look like her? His blue eyes he could have inherited from either parent, but he'd definitely taken after her blondeness. Maybe they had the same nose?

He swallowed hard and looked at Merlin. "Thank you," he said, and some part of him was horrified at how choked-up he sounded.

Merlin shrugged carelessly, but Arthur saw that his eyes were suspiciously bright. "I just wanted to make you smile. I guess I failed."

Arthur shook his head. "No, Merlin. This - this is possibly the greatest gift anyone has ever given me." He reached out. "Thank you."

"I suppose I should be thanking you," Merlin said. "After all, tomorrow I'll be walking free."

Arthur felt his chest constrict once more. "Of course." He set the photograph down. "This is all quid pro quo --"

"No! No." Merlin stepped closer. "I didn't mean it like that." He reached toward Arthur, faltered, let his hand fall to his side. "It's just that -- why am I even here? We're just torturing ourselves, standing alone in the same room when we can't even touch each other." He pressed his hand to his mouth and let out a sound that was half laughter, half sob.

"I'm sorry," Arthur whispered. "It's all my fault. That first day in the courtroom - I thought you were just some kid. And then you turned around and smiled at me and I should have recused myself then and there. We might have had a chance."

"It's not your fault," Merlin said. "It's no one's fault. We can't help who we fall in love with, can we?" And then his blue eyes went wide, and he fell back a step, faltered. "Of course, you're not in love with me, are you?" He shook his head. "Forget I said anything."

Hope surged in Arthur's chest, followed immediately by a rush of bitter realization. "No," he said in a low voice, "I won't forget you said it. You see, I'm in love with you right back."

Merlin and Arthur stared at each other in silence as the realization set in.

Then Merlin let out a strangled cry. "It's not fair! Why can't I kiss you?" He took a step forward, and when he reached out this time, Arthur leaned into his touch, the feather-light sketch of Merlin's fingertips along his jaw, his throat.

"There are rules," Arthur whispered. "And it would unmake me if I broke them."

"There's no way? No remote possibility?" Merlin leaned in, searched Arthur's gaze, pleading.

Arthur shook his head. "Not a chance. If we'd had even a one-night stand before, then maybe, but - fate robbed us."

Merlin stepped even closer, close enough that Arthur could feel the heat of him, and he closed his eyes, took a deep breath. Merlin's fingertips grazed the corner of his mouth, and Arthur's breath hitched in his chest.

"Arthur," Merlin breathed, and he traced the shape of Arthur's lips with trembling fingers, his touch whisper-soft.

Arthur's lips parted, and he heard himself moan - and then Merlin snatched his hand back.

Arthur's eyes flew open. Want was stark on Merlin's face, but he shook his head.

"You're a good lawyer, Arthur Pendragon, and a good man. You'll do beautifully tomorrow, and I'll walk away a free man, and that'll be goodbye. Thank you for everything you've done." He turned and headed for the door.

Arthur could only stand, riveted to the spot, and watch him go.

Chapter Text

Tristan had a cup of coffee and a pain au chocolat waiting when Arthur stepped into the office first thing the next morning.

"Prince Arthur!" Kay cried. "Are you ready to slay the Aredian beast once and for all and rid Camelot of his pernicious presence?"

Tristan grinned. "Breakfast, Your Highness," he said, and then he drew up short. "Are you all right? Did you sleep at all last night?"

Arthur hadn't bothered to look in the mirror that morning except to shave, but he knew he probably looked horrible. Erec had taken a picture of Arthur during finals of 1L fall semester after Arthur had studied for forty-eight hours straight for the property exam of all doom, and the lads had kept it as a warning to future generations about the dangers of overworking. Arthur likely resembled his old 1L picture too closely - features pale and drawn, dark circles around his eyes.

The other knights circled Arthur, murmuring like mother hens (though they would strenuously deny any such resemblance).

"Are you mad?" Owen asked. "You know you're going to do brilliantly today. You didn't have to stay up all night memorizing."

"You should have seen him the night before our first competition trial," Kay said. "It was pretty monstrous. One of the girls on the team had to use some of her concealer on him so he didn't look like a raccoon."

"Concealer?" Lance echoed. "As in makeup?"

"Hey." Arthur nudged Kay with one elbow. "I thought we'd agreed never to mention that again."

"Like we'd agreed never to mention the time Morgana bested you with a foil --?"

Arthur dug his elbow into Kay's solar plexus to cut him off. "Shut up. Come on, Tristan. We have a case to win."

"We'll be there to watch you," Leon said. "No pressure or anything."

"No pressure," Arthur said drily, and together the Knights of the Round Table headed for Judge O'Cara's court.

Merlin, Hunith, Will, and Gaius were waiting for them.

"Well, this is quite the reception," Gaius said.

Leon smiled benignly. "Don't mind us. We'll be good and quiet on the back row. We're just here to watch our knight commander vanquish in battle."

Will raised one eyebrow at the medieval reference, but Merlin nodded.

"That's really nice of you all," he said.

"Owen's just sad to see you go," Erec said. "You're the only one who can wrest a decent cup of coffee from the machine. Too bad you only ever gave them to Arthur."

Merlin met Arthur's gaze briefly, almost demurely. "Good morning," he said.

Arthur tipped his head in acknowledgment. "Are you ready?"

"When you are," Merlin said.

Tristan pushed open the double doors. Arthur, Merlin, and Tristan headed up toward the defense counsel table together in neat single file. As they walked, Arthur was surprised to see Morgana and Gwen sitting together in the public gallery. Morgana caught Arthur's gaze and inclined her head imperiously, like a princess acknowledging a lowly subject. Gwen smiled and waved, mouthed good luck, and then Tristan was holding open the gate to the well of the court.

"We're definitely going to win," Tristan said in a low voice to Merlin as the three of them settled into their places at the table. "Arthur stayed up all night last night studying his closing."

"I just couldn't sleep," Arthur muttered.

Merlin didn't look at him but murmured, "I know the feeling."

So this was it, then. The goodbyes had already begun.

Aredian and Bayard arrived several minutes later. Arthur glanced across the courtroom and looked at Bayard, exchanged polite smiles with him. The bailiff ushered in the jury while the last few interested members of the public trickled into the room. Arthur was surprised to see Valiant West sitting in the public gallery behind the prosecution. Arthur realized, a moment later, that Valiant's presence likely meant Uther was there as well. Arthur turned and forced himself to face forward. He had nothing to say to his hypocrite of a father, the man who'd sought the very magic he claimed to hate so he could have a son, a son of whom he barely approved.

O'Cara arrived in a swirl of black robes, and Arthur rose to his feet for what felt like his last all rise. O'Cara called for the court to be seated, and then the clerk announced the case number and the parties. Once again, O'Cara explained to the jury that closing arguments, like opening statements, were not evidence and should not be given the same weight as evidence. O'Cara told the jury that she would give them instructions as to the law after closing arguments, and then they would be sent to deliberate.

"Now, as the prosecution has the burden of proof, the prosecution gets the last word," O'Cara said. She peered over the top of her spectacles at Arthur. "Is the defense ready to proceed with closing arguments?"

Arthur stood, buttoned his jacket. "Yes, Your Honor."

O'Cara waved him into the well of the court. "You may proceed."

Arthur stepped out from behind the table and crossed the well of the court, stood before the jury. "You know how sometimes two children are fighting, and one starts the fight, but when their mother turns around all she sees is the other striking back, and she doesn't realize it's self-defense, so she punishes the wrong child?" There, the theme from the opening tied back in to give the jury something familiar to orient themselves. "Isn't that what happened in this case? The government turned around and saw Merlin Emrys holding a tin of spray paint, and even though there's a very reasonable possibility that someone else committed this crime, the government has decided to punish the innocent man."

Whenever Arthur mentioned the government, he glanced at Bayard and Aredian, and when he mentioned the words 'innocent man', he looked back at Merlin.

"Now, Judge O'Cara will tell you that you cannot find Merlin Emrys guilty unless the government proves beyond a reasonable doubt that he is guilty. That's a very heavy burden for the prosecution." Arthur gestured toward the prosecution defense table as he spoke. "It's not enough that the government proves that he might have spray-painted the fence, or even that he probably spray-painted the fence. You may not find a person guilty if you have a doubt for which you can give a reason. In this case, how can you not have a reasonable doubt?"

Arthur took a deep breath and went for one of his old law school tricks. He didn't think Bayard was likely to fall for it, but experienced litigators had fallen for it in the past. "In fact," Arthur told the jury, and he leaned in, like he was telling them a secret, "I will give you seven reasonable doubts, and when Mr. Bayard gets up here, you make him answer every one of them. When he does not, you tell him you simply have no choice but to find Merlin Emrys not guilty."

Because the prosecution got the final word, their closing was usually half rebuttal, and Arthur knew he'd gain a lot of ground if he framed the argument and forced the prosecution to answer his list. Arthur scanned the jurors' faces, ensuring he made brief, personal - but not overbearing or intimidating - eye-contact with all of the ones he knew were defense-friendly.

The list was quite simple. First, Merlin had no paint in his possession preceding the crime on the day in question. Second, Merlin didn't match the description of the suspect phoned in to police (and what idiot got red, blue, and brown mixed up with black?). Third, Merlin didn't try to run (and it wasn't because running would have been futile - Arthur reminded the jury about Colgrenant and Merlin). Fourth, Merlin told the police someone else had committed the crime (and if Merlin really wanted to get away with it, he'd have come up with a better excuse, like a mage had created the symbol with magic and then used magic to escape, perhaps). Fifth, the prosecution's case was politically motivated (the government had harped on Merlin and anyone or everyone he knew possibly having magic, and if this really was a mage-driven crime, why hadn't magic been used to commit it?). Sixth, the police work on the case was very shoddy, because if they had just looked, they would have discovered Merlin was telling the truth. Seventh, there was a reasonable possibility that someone else had committed the crime.

"If there's a reasonable possibility that someone else committed the crime, how can you find, beyond a reasonable doubt, that it was Merlin Emrys who committed the crime?"

Arthur was inordinately fond of using rhetorical questions that had obvious answers; they made the jury think that they'd figured out the truth themselves. Arthur crossed the well of the court until he was standing parallel to Valiant. He turned and looked at Valiant deliberately, then said, to the jury,

"Let's talk about Valiant West. Mr. West was in the vicinity of the crime on the day it occurred. He was wearing clothing that matched the description of the perpetrator reported to the police, and unlike Mr. Emrys, he ran when the police approached the scene. You heard testimony that Mr. West, while in Mr. Emrys's presence, repeated the same phrase the perpetrator had uttered at the scene of the crime, and Mr. Emrys recognized his voice." Arthur crossed the courtroom to stand opposite Merlin this time. "Mr. Emrys was at work when this occurred. He was not seeking out the man who had framed him, and so his recognition of Mr. West's voice was spontaneous and unaided by prompting or suggestion."

Merlin lifted his head and looked right at the jury. Arthur let them absorb the image of Merlin, straight-faced and unwavering, and then he launched back into his closing argument. Once he'd finished, he recapped the seven reasonable doubts, and then it was time for the heavy hitter, the moral plea.

Arthur resumed his spot in front of the jury box, and he looked at each and every one of the jurors before he spoke.

"Members of the jury, don't let the government punish the wrong man just because the government was too slow to see who really committed the crime. Don't let Merlin Emrys lose his freedom because a rookie police officer couldn't be bothered to follow a lead, because personal politics trumped reason and fairness. Return the only verdict that the evidence supports, the law allows, and justice demands, and find Merlin Emrys not guilty." He inclined his head deferentially, and then he said, "Thank you," and retreated to the defense counsel table.

The smiley face Tristan had drawn him on the notepad included some squiggles around the border that likely were meant to represent light or sparkles. Tristan was grinning like a fiend. Arthur smiled wanly at him and saw that beyond him, Merlin was staring down at his hands.

Bayard rose to make his argument, and to Arthur's utmost surprise, Bayard fell for it, tried to answer Arthur's seven reasonable doubts. It might have worked, because Bayard made compelling arguments, but the fact that he'd given in to Arthur's argument structure told the jury that Arthur's arguments were more damaging to the prosecution than they ordinarily would have been. Bayard stumbled on reasonable doubt number seven, because there wasn't anything that could really remedy the problem of Valiant. Bayard's own closing, once he made it past rebuttal, was well-structured and logical, and he delivered it well.

Arthur couldn't help but feel relieved when Bayard finished his moral plea and sat down. Arthur might have fallen asleep at the table, because the next thing he knew Tristan was kicking him in the ankle to remind him to rise up while Judge O'Cara left and the jury filed into the deliberation room.

Once they were gone, Merlin asked Tristan, "How long do you think this is going to take?"

Tristan glanced at Arthur, but Arthur could only shrug.

"Who knows?" Tristan said. "But we don't have to stay in here. We can wait in the hall - talk and whatnot. Other people probably need this room anyway."

Arthur followed Tristan and Merlin into the hallway. Merlin stood talking to Will, shooting Arthur glances every now and again that Arthur did his best not to return. For a few moments, Arthur tried to concoct various excuses to step away from the buzzing crowd and hide in a corner, but he couldn't think of anything convincing. Today was supposed to be his big victory - he was supposed to be bubbly and joyous, not sleep-deprived and numb.

Then a slew of mobile phones went off, a susurration of buzzing that sent most of the knights jumping in surprise. One by one they answered their phones, then shot Arthur apologetic looks and mouthed I have to take this. Safir and Gawain patted Arthur on the shoulder and added Great closing before they ducked into side alcoves to have confidential conversations.

"I always said those things were a menace to common human manners," Gaius said.

"Indeed," Arthur agreed distractedly. "Electronic leashes, they are."

Gaius clapped Arthur on the shoulder. "You did wonderfully out there, my boy. I remember the very first case your father tried - I daresay you've outshone him."

Arthur could remember sitting in the public gallery as a child, watching his father battle for justice against criminals and their ilk. Once Uther had taken his place in Pendragon & Pendragon, Arthur had no longer been allowed to watch his father work, but then Uther's days in court were few and far between. Then Arthur peered at Gaius. "I didn't realize you know my father."

"Uther doesn't much like to speak of the past. I was the Pendragon household physician when he was a child," Gaius said. "But then household physicians became a thing of the past and I struck out on my own. Uther and I were quite good friends."

Arthur tried to imagine his father being friends with Gaius, who seemed so open and pleasant. For one moment, Arthur was tempted to ask Gaius about his mother, but thinking about Ygraine Pendragon brought back memories of the conversation Arthur had overheard the night before. He groaned and closed his eyes.

Gaius laughed. "You're probably too old to be staying up all night like you did in law school, my boy. Sleep does the body good."

"I won't dispute that," Arthur said. He sighed, opened his eyes. "This has been my biggest case to date, and I - I wanted to do well."

"You did, Arthur."

"Thanks."

Arthur stared down at his shoes for a long time, and then Gaius excused himself to speak to Merlin and Will. Arthur continued staring at his shoes and hoping someone - anyone not his father or Morgana - would call him. Someone cleared her throat.

Arthur lifted his head, ready for the barrage of what would no doubt be Morgana's verbal poniards, but instead Hunith stood before him, smiling gently.

"I don't know much about lawyers or the law," she said, "but I know that what I've seen you do in that courtroom over the past few days has been nothing short of remarkable. You're an intelligent, talented, honorable young man, and I'm glad it was you who was assigned to Merlin's case. He couldn't have done this without you."

Arthur wondered if the tenderness shining in her eyes was something every mother had when she looked at someone who she thought was a friend of her child's. "Mrs. Emrys," he said, "we haven't won yet. The jury is still deliberating --"

"I know that whatever that jury says, my son is innocent, and I know that you fought for him harder than anyone else would have," Hunith said.

Something in her tone was implacable and sure, and Arthur couldn't find it in him to prevaricate. He ducked his head, unexpectedly bashful. "Thank you."

"No, Arthur. Thank you. Know that you are always welcome in my home," Hunith said.

Arthur stared at her for a long moment, and when he said "Thank you" again, it came out choked. Hunith pulled him into an embrace. Arthur hugged her back gingerly, and he tried to remember the last time someone had hugged him. Hunith's embrace was warm and soft and she smelled like lavender, and Arthur thought, This is what hugging a mother is supposed to feel like.

Then the bailiff poked her head out of the courtroom and said, "The jury's ready with the verdict."

The walk back up to the counsel table felt like walking the green mile. Arthur, Tristan, and Merlin walked in single file, staring straight ahead. Arthur was sure that the other two had to be feeling some level of the stomach-twisting anxiousness he was feeling. They arranged themselves neatly at the table and tried not to stare too hard as the jury filed back into their box.

Judge O'Cara entered the room, and the bailiff called all rise, and then Judge O'Cara beckoned. The jury foreman - the bus driver - handed the bailiff a folded piece of paper, and the bailiff carried it over to the bench. Arthur curled his hands into white-knuckled fists as O'Cara took her sweet time reading the verdict, and then she handed it back.

"Mr. Foreperson," she said, "has the jury reached a verdict?"

"We have, Your Honor," the bus driver said.

"What say you?" O'Cara asked.

The bus driver unfolded the piece of paper and cleared his throat. "On the charge of one count vandalism by graffiti, we find the defendant, Merlin Emrys, not guilty."

Not guilty.

They'd won.

Cheers erupted on the defense side of the court. O'Cara banged her gavel and called for order, and the cheers died down into whispers. Arthur didn't even know what O'Cara said; all he knew was the thrill of victory thrumming through him, more sweet and golden-bright than he could remember it ever being. The next thing he knew, he was out in the hallway with everyone else, and there were shouts and cheers.

Arthur stood by the doors, still shell-shocked - they'd won - when Merlin pushed through the crowd and flung his arms around Arthur. In the jubilation that rang in the air around them, no one would notice if Arthur held on a little too long, if he breathed in the scent of Merlin for the first and last time.

Then Merlin pulled back and was swept into a hug by Morgana.

Tristan clapped Arthur heartily on the back. "We did it! You did it." He was grinning fiercely, and Arthur was glad to see Tristan genuinely happy.

"No," Arthur said, "we did it. Thanks for having my back the entire time."

"You're welcome," Tristan said. Something unspoken passed between them, an emotion that was a mixture of camaraderie and brotherhood. Then Tristan brandished his mobile. "We have to tell the others. I'll send a text."

Moments later, Tristan's mobile pinged, and he waved it at Arthur so Arthur could see the message. It looked like he'd have every chance to get bombed out of his mind tonight; Leon was planning a party. He craned his neck and searched the crowd, reckoned he ought to say something perfunctory and polite to Merlin, but Will and Hunith were clinging to Merlin and beaming at him like he made the sun shine.

They wouldn't notice if he left.

The bailiff poked her head out of the courtroom and told them to quiet down or take it outside, so it was easy for Arthur to slip down the stairs unnoticed. Or so he thought. He was halfway down to the first floor when Morgana caught up to him.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To celebrate," Arthur said. "Where else?"

"Shouldn't you talk to Merlin?"

"Why should I? He's a free man now. He doesn't need me anymore."

Arthur didn't realize how angry his words sounded until a stricken expression crossed Morgana's face.

"Arthur, surely you don't mean that."

He lifted his chin defiantly. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Arthur--"

"I have to go."

He hurried down the steps of the courthouse. Leon and Lance were picking up the tab for a celebratory luncheon out at Lady Helen's Bistro, and Arthur was looking to get drunk. Luckily for him, Lance had agreed to give him a lift and act as designated driver, so Arthur could afford to get completely sloshed. He scanned the pavement, searching for Lance's car, and then his mobile buzzed in his pocket. Arthur fished it out and saw that he had an alert - a new email message. From Old Man Drake.

Your destiny has only begun, it said. Time will tell the rest.

The document attached outlined when Arthur should go into the office to sign and finalize the paperwork and start moving in.

The victory felt hollow in his chest. Arthur pocketed his mobile and resumed searching for Lance's car.

"Arthur," Merlin called.

He turned. Merlin stood further up the steps, a stark silhouette against the white marble columns of the courthouse façade.

"Congratulations," Arthur said. "You're a free man."

"Thanks to you," Merlin said. "So...thank you."

"Just doing my job."

"I'm sure I could have served time and no one would have accused you of not doing your job," Merlin said, and Arthur's heart clenched at the memory of their old conversations echoed back at them. Merlin bit his lip. Then he said, "Mum wanted me to ask, and I know you're going out with the rest of the knights, but we're having supper at her house. Tonight. You and Tristan are both invited."

Arthur shook his head. "Tell your mother thank you, but no."

Merlin bobbed his head in assent. "I understand."

"I know."

Merlin swallowed. "So this is goodbye."

"Yes." Arthur gazed into Merlin's eyes one last time. "Good luck, Merlin."

"You too, Arthur."

Arthur had to force himself to turn and walk down the steps toward the pavement and keep on walking even though he had no idea where Lance had parked his car. He didn't look back and see Merlin watching him, didn't see Merlin's eyes flash gold before Merlin disappeared.

It was dark by the time Arthur stumbled back to his flat. He kicked off his shoes and barely remembered to unknot his tie before he fell face-first onto his bed.

Then he dreamed.

At first he thought it was a memory, because he'd been to this club a hundred times in his years in the city, and he and the other knights always had the same booth in the back. It was common courtesy to watch each other's drinks while one or two lads hit the dance floor in search of a lovely lady with whom to while away the midnight hours.

Arthur remembered this night because it was one of those rare and miserable occasions when he was the only one at the table, staring at a round of abandoned and half-empty drinks and wishing he was anywhere but there. The newest top-40 remix ended and the lights overhead changed colors, and then Leon and Kay fell back into the booth, laughing and intoxicated.

"Why aren't you out there, mate?" Kay asked. "Club's full of lovely ladies."

Arthur never would have admitted it, but a chorus of "Lovely Ladies" from Les Mis filtered through his head, and he shuddered.

Leon shot him a knowing wink. "Prince Arthur's particular, is all. Not very many are worthy of his royal attention."

The medieval humor was fast losing its amusement. "Ha ha," Arthur said drily.

Movement in the shadows along the edge of the dancefloor caught Arthur's eye. He turned, curious, and peered. A slender figure stepped onto the dance floor right into a swirl of blue and gold light, and Arthur felt his breath catch in his throat. The stranger was a man, tall and slender, with skin that was pale in the shadows and dark, unruly hair.

And his eyes were blue, deepest blue, until they flashed gold.

This was definitely a dream, because that man was Merlin.

Arthur in the dream only saw an attractive man - a man who was looking right at him. A slow smile curved the man's lips, the expression wicked and sultry, and he lifted his chin, arched an eyebrow.

"I don't know much about body language," Leon said to Arthur in a low voice, "but I'm pretty sure that expression's called come hither."

Arthur could only stare. Leon pushed him out of the booth.

Arthur let his conscious self go and immersed himself in the memory-turned-fantasy. If that man was Merlin, well, Arthur was going to enjoy whatever came next.

Even though Arthur was by the far the least inebriated of his friends, he stumbled across the dance floor with all the grace of a college freshman buzzed off his first six-pack of beer. He came up short when the lovely stranger placed a hand on his chest, looked right into his eyes.

"Don't ask any questions," the man said.

Arthur nodded. "All right."

The man closed his eyes and swallowed, and his dark eyelashes fluttered against his cheekbones. Arthur could see he was trembling. He frowned; he wasn't one to take an unwilling partner.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

The man opened his eyes, and when he smiled, he looked ready to cry. "I would have had you spread on satin sheets, lit by the glow of a thousand candles and serenaded by an eternity of I love you."

The stark emotion in the man's eyes was confusing, and his words left Arthur feeling raw loss. This was insane - he'd never met this man before.

"Sir," he began, but the man leaned in and pressed a finger to his lips.

"The time for talking is past," he whispered, and they kissed.

Everything in Arthur's world ground to a halt. The lips on his were warm and soft, pliant, and when he pressed forward they parted, and he moaned. The tip of a tongue flicked against his, and Arthur's heartbeat went from stuttering to hammering in an instant. He wound an arm around the man's waist and tugged him closer until their bodies were flush, and heat surged through his blood.

The kiss felt like coming home and coming alive all at once. Arthur reached up and twined his fingers through the man's soft, soft hair, and he felt fingertips brush against his ribs, trail up his spine.

Fingers curled around his wrist, and then the man pulled back, tugged, led Arthur deeper into the shadows.

"Come on," he whispered. "There's something I've been waiting to do."

What followed was sensory overload, the man pale-skinned and soft beneath his hands, sharp-angled and pliant, mouth demanding, fingers questing. Arthur tossed and turned, short of breath from the vividness of it all - the flashes of the man with his lips parted in a moan as Arthur traced a trail of kisses down his torso with lips and tongue and teeth; the scent of his skin where Arthur buried his face against the man's throat; the taste of honey and cloves on his lips when they kissed.

When Arthur woke up, all he could think was Merlin.

For the first half of the morning, Arthur could only stare at himself blearily in the mirror, trying to shove the dream-memories out of his mind. This was fate and karma and cosmic payback for all the times he'd been a prat when he was a teenager, he was sure of it. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see dream-Merlin sprawled across the black sheets, his eyes half-closed in languid amusement as Arthur hovered over him, desperate to kiss, touch, taste everywhere all at once.

Arthur wanted to weep. He refused. He was Arthur bloody Pendragon, and if there was one thing he didn't do, it was cry.

His mobile buzzed and reminded him that he had a meeting to get to. Arthur heaved himself off the edge of the bath and into the shower. He scrubbed fiercely under cold water as if losing a layer of skin would get rid of some of the want and ache crawling under the surface of his sanity.

He shaved and dressed in a haze, and he was halfway down the hall to the lift before he realized that he wasn't wearing any shoes.

The other lads laughed when Arthur shuffled into the Public Defender's office to sign the last of the paperwork that would transfer his cases to Tristan. The lads assumed Arthur was hung over and mostly let him be, giving him a wide berth when he cast them hollow-eyed glares. A few - Erec, Kay, Safir - made small jibes at how much Arthur had drunk the day before, but he ignored them and shuffled back out of the office.

Drake's secretary was a stately woman named Catrina who practically purred at him when she realized he was Uther Pendragon's son. She asked far too many personal questions about Uther for Arthur's sanity, seeing how he still wasn't talking to his father; he really didn't want to think about the woman accompanying his father to the opera. Still, she was helpful about signing the final paperwork that instated Arthur as a junior partner in Drake and Associates, LLC.

Catrina showed Arthur his new, spacious - empty - corner office.

"This is yours, now, Mr. Pendragon," she said. "Feel free to furnish it how you see fit."

Arthur thought of his cheap desk and cramped bookcases and overflowing bureau and nodded faintly. "Of course."

Catrina patted his hand. The gesture seemed condescending rather than sympathetic. "Mr. Drake says you can have the next few days off, dear boy. Take some time to collect your belongings and your thoughts before you jump in feet first, hm?"

"Thank you." Arthur drifted out of his new office.

He wandered back to his flat and sank down on the couch, stared blankly into the distance. He wasn't hungry, he wasn't thirsty - he just needed to get Merlin out of his mind.

Arthur wasn't sure when, but he fell asleep.

The dreams that came were a variation on the first, a melding of fantasy and memory. Another night in the club, a figure sliding out of the shadows, a heart-wrenching kiss and a twining of limbs.

Arthur came awake gasping for air and half-sobbing. The clock on the night stand blinked glaring red numbers. For one moment, he dreaded heaving himself out of bed and going to work, but then he remembered he had the day off. After lying in bed and staring at the ceiling for fifteen minutes, Arthur dreaded falling into one of those dreams even more, and he crawled out of bed.

Arthur's first week at Drake's office was a vicious cycle of zombie-like days and dream-filled nights. How he managed to read through his case files with sufficient concentration to answer clients' questions was a mystery, because every time he even blinked he saw dream-memory Merlin with his head thrown back in ecstasy. When Arthur wasn't trying to pretend he was a lawyer, he was slowly moving from his old office to his new office. The lads back at the defender's office ribbed him for how exhausted he looked, asking if private practice was all it was cracked up to be. Most days Arthur could barely manage a smile.

At night, Arthur would lie in his bed, staring up at the ceiling and remembering the sound of Merlin's laugh or the graceful flick of his wrists as he tried to explain something by drawing it in the air. He wondered if Merlin was happy, if he and Morgana were using his freedom to crusade for mages everywhere. Sometimes Arthur imagined what life would have been like if he'd met Merlin somewhere ordinary, like a café or a bookshop and they'd been able to have a happy life together. Occasionally he listened to Ache For You and pretended Merlin was calling him.

Somewhere in the middle of contemplating what kind of house they would share, Arthur would fall asleep, and then the dreams would come, the damning blend of imagination and memory that was so vivid Arthur could still feel Merlin's lips on his skin when he opened his eyes. Arthur would awaken wanting and sobbing and messy like a teenager, and he would curl on his side and sob fiercely into his pillow at the ache in his chest. Then he'd drag himself out of bed and into the shower and then into work.

At the end of the second week, he no longer woke crying, but the dreams hadn't stopped.

Arthur was sure he was officially going insane. He didn't think it was right, that a man could lose his mind because of a heart broken by unrequited love. Then he realized he was thinking of himself in terms of the broken-hearted, the walking wounded, and he wanted to swallow one of his own fencing foils.

Arthur set down Excalibur, scooped up his jacket, and decided that a brisk walk down to the civic center would do him good. He could pick up the last of his supplies from his old office while he was at it. He was Arthur Pendragon, and he wasn't going to be a teenaged girl about this anymore. If he planned on spending a little extra time at the gym or fencing gallery with the hopes of exerting himself into dreamless exhaustion - well, at least he was doing something productive about his moping.

That didn't stop him from almost tripping over his own feet when he passed a tall, pale lad with unruly dark hair.

"I finally remember where I recognize Merlin from," Leon said in a low voice.

Arthur, laden down with a box of law books that had padded his shelves, paused in the doorway of his now-former office. "What do you mean? Merlin was my client. Of course you recognized him."

"No," Leon said. "During closing arguments was the first time I'd seen him since you picked up his case, but he looked familiar, and it was nagging at me in the back of my mind. And now I remember where I recognize him from."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Oh? Care to enlighten me?"

Leon leaned in, lowered his voice. "You don't remember?"

"I first met Merlin Emrys in Courtroom Thirty-three at the District Court," Arthur said. He could remember that day far too vividly. The peach paint on the walls still made him frown.

Leon arched an eyebrow. "I'm surprised Owen and Kay and the rest of the lads never said anything," he said, keeping his voice low. "But...we all saw you. At the club. Slinking off into the shadows with a pretty, pale, dark-haired slip of a boy and then coming back looking thoroughly shagged."

Arthur's heart skipped a beat. How did Leon know about his dreams?

Leon shrugged. "Still, it happened before you were assigned his case, so it's not like it was unethical, was it?"

Arthur's mind spun. So those dreams weren't actually dreams...they were memories? No. That was impossible. Arthur thought quickly. "Leon," he said, "didn't you go with me to deliver the deposition request to Valiant West at my father's office?" That had come right after the conversation where Arthur had confessed his feelings for Merlin (in the most manly way possible that hadn't involved actually using the word "feelings").

"No," Leon said. He grinned. "I'd have liked to have been there to see the look on Uther's face." Then his brow furrowed. "Why?"

Arthur could remember that conversation with Leon as clear as day. Leon had voiced Arthur's worst fears about getting thrown off of Merlin's case and disbarred. But apparently that conversation had never happened, because for some reason, Leon was under the impression that he hadn't gone with Arthur to Uther's office. So Leon didn't know how Arthur felt about Merlin. Arthur wasn't sure if he should be relieved or pained - knowing that someone else knew how he felt had made it a little easier to bear. He could complain to someone about it, if he so chose. Not that he'd share the dreams.

Apparently, even though he couldn't complain about unrequited love to Leon, he didn't have to share the dreams. Because Leon seemed to already know about them. Although he thought they were real.

"It was so strange, looking back on the entire trial once I remembered, because you were so friendly and comfortable with each other," Leon said. "Or maybe it wasn't strange and you were just a consummate professional. The way you acted around Merlin, one would think you two were nothing but zealous advocate and grateful client." He shrugged. "Still, I'm impressed that it wasn't awkward to represent him when you'd spent an entire weekend with him at that club."

"What can I say? I'm a professional," Arthur said faintly. He hefted the box of books. "Anyway, I need to finish moving."

"Of course," Leon said, and clapped Arthur on the shoulder. "We're going to miss you."

"I'm sure I'll see you again," Arthur said, and stumbled out of the Defender's office. He went back to Drake's office in a daze, running through the haze of dreams that had haunted him for the past two weeks. They'd seemed so much like memories, but Arthur knew they couldn't be memories. Unless...

He remembered the first dream. He'd been sitting at the table with Leon and saw a man emerge from the shadows, clad in black, eyes glowing golden-bright.

Oh.

Arthur dumped the box of books down on one of his admittedly plush new office chairs and nudged the door shut with his foot. As an afterthought, he locked the door and closed the blinds. His hands shook as he fumbled in his pockets for his mobile. Then he hit speed dial and closed his eyes.

The phone rang once, twice, three times.

"Hello, Arthur." Morgana sounded wary and a little concerned.

Arthur remembered that he'd been ignoring all of her calls for the past two weeks. Guilt twinged in his conscience, but he shoved it aside. "Is there a way to travel through time using magic?"

"What? Arthur, even if magic isn't evil, it can still be dangerous if used improperly--"

"I'm not asking you to teach me how to do it or even to do it for me," Arthur said. His pulse was racing and it was getting difficult to breathe and visions of dream-Merlin, sated and drowsy and gloriously nude, flashed behind his eyelids. "I just want to know if it's possible."

"With magic, anything is possible," Morgana said, "but few people have the power to make those things possible. Why? What's going on?"

"I'm sorry I haven't called you back, Morgana. We should catch up over lunch sometime, maybe bring Gwen and Lance along," Arthur said, only half-aware of his words. "In the meantime, I have to go."

"Arthur--!"

He hung up. His thumb hovered over speed dial number 8, the one he hadn't dared to use since he'd programmed it in. He almost pressed the button - but he couldn't. No. This was something he was going to have to do in person. Arthur opened the calendar on his mobile and scanned it quickly, but his afternoon was free of client meetings and court hearings. Good. If what he thought was true, he was going to do this right and avoid even the impression of impropriety, so he couldn't blow off work to do this.

But there was no work to be done.

Arthur jammed his mobile into his pocket and started for the door. Then he paused and shucked off his jacket, undid his tie and cast it aside. He scooped up his keys and headed for the door, hollering an indecorous,

"Hold my calls!" to Catrina as he went.

He drove like a madman and almost parked illegally outside the apothecary in the Dells. Please, let it be possible, let it be true, Arthur thought as he raced up the pavement and burst through the door.

"Oy!" Will cried, barely managing to yank his broom aside before Arthur tripped over it.

"Where's Merlin?" Arthur demanded.

"Oh. It's you." Will, who'd begun to brandish his broom, lowered it. "Merlin's been away for a while. The case is over. What do you need?"

"I need to speak to him immediately."

Will's brow furrowed. "What's wrong? Has the government decided to appeal?"

Arthur shook his head, frustrated. "No. This has nothing to do with the case."

"Then why are you here?"

A minor explosion rocked the back of the building. Will ducked, flinched, but he didn't seem too alarmed by it. Arthur, who had caught himself against the counter, stared at him.

"What the hell just happened back there?"

"I'm sure Gaius was just - experimenting," Will said, but there was something shifty in his eyes.

Arthur studied Will intently. "Does Gaius almost explode a building often?"

"Well --" Will began, and then shouting erupted from the back room.

"Merlin! You're being utterly reckless, not only with your magic but with yourself! Look at you - you clearly haven't slept or eaten properly in days --"

Arthur pushed past Will and leapt over the counter, headed straight for the laboratory door.

"Wait!" Will cried. "You can't go back there!"

Arthur threw open the door -- and froze. Merlin was standing in the middle of Gaius's laboratory, and he was wearing what the same clothes that the Merlin from last night's dream had been wearing. In fact, his hair was mussed and his scarf was askew and Arthur could see a red mouth-shaped mark on Merlin's throat. Arthur remembered dreaming about making that mark himself.

"Arthur," Gaius said. "What are you doing here?"

Merlin spun around, and his eyes went wide. "I can explain," he began.

"Explain what?" Arthur asked. "The fact that I haven't slept properly the past two weeks because you've found some way to magic yourself into my dreams to torture me?"

Guilt shone plainly on Merlin's face. "No. It wasn't like that. I didn't mean to torture you. I --" He darted a glance at Gaius.

Gaius wore a thunderously angry expression and if he were any angrier his eyebrows might have lifted right off his forehead. "You've been doing what? You said you were teleporting to foreign countries, which is reckless enough as it is."

Merlin brought his hands up, made a placating gesture. "Please, just let me explain."

Gauis folded his arms across his chest and hiked his eyebrow even higher. "Yes, I do think an explanation is in order, especially seeing how you've had Will lying for you over the past fortnight."

"Can I talk to Arthur alone first, please?"

Gaius looked at Arthur. "Do you want to speak to Merlin?"

"Yes."

Gaius swept out of the room, closing the door loudly behind him. A moment later there was a yelp and a muffled,

"No eavesdropping, Will."

Merlin took a deep breath. "Look, I wasn't trying to torture you. Please. That wasn't my intention at all."

"I gathered as much," Arthur said, and was pleased at how calm he sounded. He took a step closer to Merlin. "Those dreams - they're memories, aren't they? Actual memories."

Merlin bit his lip, and Arthur remembered suddenly, vividly, pinning Merlin to a wall in the back of a club and nipping at his bottom lip until he moaned.

"Yes," Merlin said softly.

"How? Why?"

"Something you said." Merlin shrugged, but Arthur could see that he was fiddling with the hem of his shirt, clearly a nervous gesture. "About how if we'd even had a one night stand..."

"If my conversation with Leon was at all accurate, it was rather more than one night," Arthur said.

"I wasn't sure if it would work, so I tried several different nights just to be safe." Merlin ducked his head, a bright blush creeping up his cheeks. "I had to ask Erec and Kay about where you used to go clubbing, see."

Arthur stepped closer to Merlin. "You don't get to blush, not since you've seen me naked." He reached out and tipped Merlin's head up to look into his eyes. "So you went back in time to see me to ensure that we can see each other now?"

"Yes."

"So you broke pretty much every basic law of physics, time, and space?"

Merlin swallowed hard, closed his eyes. "I couldn't - the thought of never being able to touch you when I know I love you and you love me too - it wasn't fair. So I took matters into my own hands."

A flash of memory, of Merlin sliding his hands up the bare expanse of Arthur's back as they twined together on those black sheets, set Arthur's temperature rising. "I daresay you did," Arthur murmured. "Open your eyes, Merlin."

Merlin's eyelashes fluttered, and then he was gazing up at Arthur with those blue, blue eyes. "Arthur?"

"Can you teleport us back to my place?"

Merlin stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist, tugged him close so their bodies were pressed against each other. "I can," Merlin said, and his eyes flashed gold.

"Was it as good as you remember?"

"Better," Arthur said. He draped an arm around Merlin's waist and tugged him close, nosed the line of Merlin's throat. "Since this time I was sure it was real."

Merlin burrowed back into Arthur's embrace. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you sad."

"I wasn't sad," Arthur began, but Merlin said,

"I do enough of my own laundry that I know what tear stains look like on a pillow case."

Arthur was silent, embarrassed. Then he pulled Merlin around so they were face to face, leaned over him and kissed him. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." Merlin arched up into the kiss, and Arthur moaned, snaked a hand between them, and then someone pounded at the door.

"Arthur Pendragon, open your door this instant!"

Arthur wrenched himself back from Merlin with a curse. Morgana was on the other side of that door.

"Morgana," Gwen said, "Arthur hasn't been feeling well. Maybe he just needs to rest --"

"What he needs is to man up and get out here and face the consequences of his actions," Morgana snapped. She pounded at the door some more, and Arthur thought that someone who looked as lady-like and delicate as Morgana ought not to have such a heavy fist. "He was too cowardly to go to Merlin, so he doesn't get to mope."

Merlin yanked the sheet up to his chin, looking alarmed.

"Out of bed, Arthur, right this instant!"

Merlin looked even more alarmed when Arthur leaned over the side of the bed and felt around with one hand, then tugged a fencing foil out of his fencing kit.

"Get away from my door, woman!" Arthur yelled.

"Not in this lifetime."

"Morgana, please," Lance said, "we should reason with him." He cleared his throat. "Arthur, it has come to our attention that you have been working through the holiday Mr. Drake granted you. After such a long and arduous trial, you probably ought to rest."

"Long and arduous my foot," Morgana said. "It didn't even take a week. Open the door, Arthur, before I force it open."

"You and what army?" Arthur shot back, because he'd been in the middle of kissing Merlin and being interrupted made him feel especially childish.

There was an unintelligible mutter, followed by a surprised squeak from Gwen, and then the door flew open, revealing Morgana with one hand outstretched, her hair swirling around her face in the wake of magic.

Lance and Gwen peered over Morgana's shoulders.

"Arthur!" Morgana began, striding into the room, and she drew up short when she saw Merlin.

"I'm a grown man, Morgana. I know when I need to be left in peace," Arthur said.

Morgana cleared her throat, then cast Merlin a brilliant smile. Arthur scowled. Why did Merlin rate a smile when Arthur just got yelled at?

"I didn't realize you had company," Morgana said.

Arthur leveled the fencing foil at her. "You were too busy breaking down my door to ask. I'd appreciate it if you'd leave, please."

Lance cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "Hello Arthur, Merlin."

"We tried to stop her, we really did," Gwen said. She smiled. "Hello, Merlin."

Merlin freed one hand from the sheet long enough to wave, then continued blinking at Arthur's friends with wide eyes.

"So," Morgana said, "you said we should do lunch sometime?"

Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Typical Morgana - retreat to socialite niceties when there was nothing left to say. At least they weren't having a conversation about the weather.

"Indeed. The five of us. Perhaps at Lady Helena's. Tomorrow, maybe?"

"Tomorrow sounds good," Lance said. He immediately reached into his pocket to fish out his Blackberry and add it to his calendar.

Gwen smiled fondly and prodded him in the arm. "You can't live without that thing, can you?"

Lance shot Arthur a rueful look. "Organization and preparation are a lawyer's two greatest weapons. I have my Blackberry, Arthur has Excalibur - we all have our chosen tools."

A decidedly un-lady-like leer glittered in Morgana's eyes. "Excalibur? Like the sword?"

Arthur's eyes went wide. "Excalibur is a pen, Morgana. A fountain pen."

Morgana arched an eyebrow. "A pen, you say?"

"Yes," Arthur said. "It was a graduation gift." A moment later he caught on to the innuendo in her voice and growled. He scooped up the nearest pillow and lobbed it at her. "Out. Get out. All of you. I'll see you at lunch tomorrow."

"Congratulations on the new job, Arthur," Gwen said, and then she dragged Morgana out of the room, closed the door after them.

"Is she always like that?" Merlin asked.

"You tell me," Arthur said. "You're the one who knows her from the knitting circle."

"I thought you said that once we consummated this thing between us, her name would be the farthest from my mind." Merlin leaned in, nuzzled the edge of Arthur's jaw.

Arthur's breath hitched in his chest. "Whose name?"

Merlin laughed softly, wickedly. "I love you," he whispered, and wound an arm around Arthur's waist.

Arthur kissed him. "I love you too."

"Lunch with them tomorrow, then? Can I bring Will?"

"Them tomorrow," Arthur said, and lay back, drew Merlin down on top of him, "us today."

"And tomorrow," Merlin reminded him.

Arthur smiled. "And forever."