Fic: Ethics of Attraction pt. 2
Title: Ethics of Attraction
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: through 2x07; a fictional jurisdiction that runs on a mish-mash of American state law
Summary: De-anon'd repost of this kinkme prompt: Arthur/Merlin, AU. Arthur is a young, promising lawyer. He needs to win his next case to get a job at the best law office in town. Of course, being Arthur, he thinks he's the best man out there :P Merlin is waiting in prison for his trial (arrested for don't-know-what-but-something-not-too-serious). Arthur is assigned to Merlin's case as a public defender. In which Merlin isn't waiting in prison for very long, the boys play some quid pro quo, and Arthur needs a plan.
Part One
bond hearing - when the judge decides whether a defendant should be held in jail pre-trial. One of three things can happen: the defendant is held without bond and is stuck in jail till trial no matter what (barring medical emergencies and the like); the defendant is held with bond and will be released when bond or bail is paid; or the defend is released on his or her own recognizance (recog for short), i.e. the court trusts the defendant not to run off and skip trial and not to commit any crimes prior to trial.
zealous advocate - under the old rules of professional ethics, a lawyer was required to zealously advocate on behalf of a client, i.e. to do everything within the law and the lawyer's power to help the client get the most favorable legal result possible. Nowadays the modern standard is competence and diligence, but in law school many lawyers are still taught about being a zealous advocate.
plead to a misdemeanor - even though Merlin has been charged with a felony, he could agree to plead guilty and admit that he spray-painted the fence and then Aredian, as the prosecutor, could agree in exchange to lower his charge against Merlin from a felony to a misdemeanor, which would mean a lesser punishment. Pleading is quite common and as such only about 10% if criminal cases actually go to full trial.
reasonable doubt - the prosecution has the burden of proof in a trial and must prove to a jury, beyond a reasonable doubt, that defendant was the one who committed the crime. The defense does not have to prove anything, not that the defendant didn't do it or that someone else did it; all the defense has to do is poke holes in the prosecution's case and show the jury that reasonable doubt exists. To that end, the defense doesn't even have to call witnesses or put on a case-in-chief of their own. If a case does actually go to trial, it's unlikely that the defense would roll over and play dead like that, but the defense does not have to prove anything. It's quite common for the defense to use reasonable doubt as their main argument during trial.
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.
Next
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: through 2x07; a fictional jurisdiction that runs on a mish-mash of American state law
Summary: De-anon'd repost of this kinkme prompt: Arthur/Merlin, AU. Arthur is a young, promising lawyer. He needs to win his next case to get a job at the best law office in town. Of course, being Arthur, he thinks he's the best man out there :P Merlin is waiting in prison for his trial (arrested for don't-know-what-but-something-not-too-serious). Arthur is assigned to Merlin's case as a public defender. In which Merlin isn't waiting in prison for very long, the boys play some quid pro quo, and Arthur needs a plan.
Part One
bond hearing - when the judge decides whether a defendant should be held in jail pre-trial. One of three things can happen: the defendant is held without bond and is stuck in jail till trial no matter what (barring medical emergencies and the like); the defendant is held with bond and will be released when bond or bail is paid; or the defend is released on his or her own recognizance (recog for short), i.e. the court trusts the defendant not to run off and skip trial and not to commit any crimes prior to trial.
zealous advocate - under the old rules of professional ethics, a lawyer was required to zealously advocate on behalf of a client, i.e. to do everything within the law and the lawyer's power to help the client get the most favorable legal result possible. Nowadays the modern standard is competence and diligence, but in law school many lawyers are still taught about being a zealous advocate.
plead to a misdemeanor - even though Merlin has been charged with a felony, he could agree to plead guilty and admit that he spray-painted the fence and then Aredian, as the prosecutor, could agree in exchange to lower his charge against Merlin from a felony to a misdemeanor, which would mean a lesser punishment. Pleading is quite common and as such only about 10% if criminal cases actually go to full trial.
reasonable doubt - the prosecution has the burden of proof in a trial and must prove to a jury, beyond a reasonable doubt, that defendant was the one who committed the crime. The defense does not have to prove anything, not that the defendant didn't do it or that someone else did it; all the defense has to do is poke holes in the prosecution's case and show the jury that reasonable doubt exists. To that end, the defense doesn't even have to call witnesses or put on a case-in-chief of their own. If a case does actually go to trial, it's unlikely that the defense would roll over and play dead like that, but the defense does not have to prove anything. It's quite common for the defense to use reasonable doubt as their main argument during trial.
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.
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