Merlin soon discovered that the world happened to be clamouring for a scrap of fresh news about the Prince of Wales and his near-fatal car accident on the Chelsea Bridge. Miraculously, Merlin's identity hadn't been released, and Clarence House had issued a statement on Christmas Day in addition to the annual King's Speech, as it had been too short notice for it to be re-recorded. They requested the public to respect the royal family's privacy, as well as that of the crash victim's family, too, in order for a steady recovery for all those involved.

"Just me, then," Merlin had said when he'd read the statement.

As expected, though, the press paid no mind to the wishes of the royals—they were camped out in front of the hospital and had been since less than an hour after Merlin's arrival.

Hunith had given Merlin a stack of newspapers she had been hoarding for him, but only after he had eaten his breakfast, and he had stubbornly pushed himself to read through every single one. They all said the same thing: Prince Arthur was alive and relatively unharmed aside from some whiplash ("What a fortunate tosser," Merlin had mumbled after reading that one), and that the other unknown victim was stable and recovering at the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital in London after extensive surgery ("We had to let them know you were alive, at least," Doctor Wilson had said). They reported that the crash had been the result of icy roads, broken traffic lights, and slight speeding on both parts, and although they couldn't specify as to why Merlin had been speeding, the papers said that a security team had been trying to shake off the paparazzi as soon as the Prince of Wales had left a party he had been to. They had apparently attempted to take him to a safe house until the chaos had blown over, as the roads leading to Buckingham Palace were far too busy, but in an attempt to overtake a cyclist Prince Arthur's driver had crossed a lane and come onto the other side of the bridge, where Merlin had 'appeared out of nowhere'.

"They're not very particular about the details, are they? You'd think they would have at least reported the colour of the car, or what he was wearing," Merlin murmured dryly to his mother as he turned a page of The Sun and began reading conspiracy theories which been put forward by the public on social media sites, such as Twitter and Facebook.

"I think somebody's trying to cover it up," Hunith said, as she looked contemplatively out of the window and watched the rain.

"Honestly, mum, you're just as bad as these idiots. It says here one person thinks I was following the bloody prat because we're in some kind of illicit relationship. Really."

"If it's true, we could do with the hush money."

"It's not, so don't get your hopes up," Merlin said as he closed the paper and chucked it across the room. It was a terrible newspaper anyway.

Hunith's eyes were wide. "Merlin!"

He grinned innocently and settled into the pillows. After much pain and swearing, Elena had helped him into a sitting position. The tubes had been removed from his nose, and he had been wheeled out of intensive care and into a private room. The IV needle remained. Morphine, they said, and Merlin hadn't refused.

Hunith sighed as she rose from her chair by the window and crossed the room to pick up the newspaper.

"You're honestly not going to keep it?" Merlin asked.

"Of course I am," she said with wide eyes. "We're a part of history now, Merlin. We need the evidence for when you're old and grey."

As his mother came over to him and kissed him on the cheek, Merlin bit back a retort about how he would never live to be that old once King Uther Pendragon was through with him.

"Get some sleep, cariad. The quicker you get better, the quicker you can come home to me."

"You're leaving?"

"I need to make some calls, and I really need a shower."

Merlin smiled and patted her hand gingerly. "Don't let the paps get you, and tell Gwen to stop freaking out. I know she'll be a mess."

"Will do. I'll be back later. I love you."

"And don't give Will a hard time!" he shouted as she left.

Time passed incredibly quickly, although when Merlin woke he sleepily thought it was because of the morphine they were ploughing him with. It kept the pain at bay after such an ordeal, but it also had made him fall asleep almost immediately after his mother had left him to himself.

When he came to, there were people in his room, and when he realised that it wasn't his mum, Gwen, or Will, he all too happily allowed his eyes to flutter shut in a bid to help will himself back to sleep. He didn't want to hear anything other than the rain battering against the window. He was too tired. If they thought he was asleep, he wouldn't have to deal with anything other than fighting his pain. If he was asleep, he didn't have to relive what could have been his last moments arguing with Will (who, Merlin realised, was either a very shit boyfriend for not having come to visit him, or who was now decidedly an ex-boyfriend).

"How is he, really?" a new voice asked.

"He's lucky to be alive," somebody replied, and Merlin recognised the voice as Doctor Wilson's. The old man, Gaius. "The paramedics had to perform a clamshell when he crashed en route to the hospital, and when he arrived he had to be put straight onto bypass and rushed into theatre for emergency surgery. His heart stopped twice more after that."

"... Right. So he's pretty bad, then," the first man replied, clearly unfamiliar with the medical terms being used.

"He's doing far better than I would have dared to believe, but it might be a long process. He's still with us at any rate, although he is convinced that he is going to have his head chopped off without fair trial. He hasn't been particularly... reasonable."

"Why does he believe that?"

"Well—you, sire," Wilson replied uncomfortably.

"Of course," they replied, sounding thoroughly amused. "It wasn't his fault."

"I've tried telling him, as has his mother, but as Clarence House haven't issued a definitive statement in bold letters addressed to Mr. Emrys here saying as such, we cannot convince him otherwise."

"I'll get them onto it. They're still trying to figure out who was pursuing us in the first place."

"I was joking, sire."

Merlin's eyes snapped open at the use of the title, after he realised that he hadn't imagined it the first time, and his breath hitched in his throat but nobody seemed to notice. He was only glad he was no longer attached to any monitors that would draw attention to the stutter of his heart.

"Oh. Right. Well, make him read a newspaper or something."

"His mother has given him several, but it had the site of the wreckage on the front page, and... a few pictures... He read the conspiracies."

"Ah, that one."

"Yes, sire."

"I hope you call one of your doctor friends 'sire' as a nickname," Merlin heard himself saying. "I swear to God."

"Ah, Mr. Emrys, you're awake," Gaius said happily. "How are you feeling?"

"You need to stop asking me that," Merlin grumbled. He slowly rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, not daring to allow his eyes settle anywhere else. If he couldn't see it, it wasn't real. He wasn't real.

"Merlin, the, er, the Prince of Wales..."

"Oh, God. Doc, put me under!"

"I told you he was being unreasonable," Gaius said.

"So you did. Hello. Merlin, is it?"

"Yes, but free to call me Marlin." The paramedics had never gotten it right. "Everybody else does."

"Uh, Doctor Wilson, do you think you could possibly permit me some time with Merlin?"

Merlin was still staring at the ceiling, but he heard Gaius' hesitation and felt hope flicker in his stomach.

"I assure you," Arthur said smoothly, "I just want to talk to him, make sure he is comfortable. It is the best I can do to make up for him being here."

"As you wish, Your Highness. I'll be right outside."

"Don't leave me, Doc!"

"Sorry, Merlin. I can't refuse the Prince, not really, not unless it's in your best interest."

"It is in my best interest if you stay, Doc."

"I'll be outside, Merlin."

Gaius left them then, and there was an unbearable silence, in which Merlin determinedly kept his gaze on the tiles of the ceiling, praying in vain that the Prince would take the hint and leave him to live his common life in peace.

"Tell me, Merlin, are you opposed to the monarchy in any way?"

"I was from the moment you put me in this bed," he found himself replying.

"Yes, I am sorry about that. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Merlin awkwardly pushed himself up, knowing the heavy painkillers were aiding him like they hadn't before, and he regarded Arthur for a few seconds as he adjusted himself. The Prince of Wales, of all people, was in jeans, a dark hoodie with a leather jacket over it, and looked so annoyingly normal. And good-looking. His blue eyes pierced Merlin's.

"Yeah. Wheel me out for a cigarette," Merlin said eventually.

Arthur gaped dumbly at him. "Are you mad? You do know what exactly is outside, don't you?"

"You have bodyguards, don't you?" Merlin countered. "Or are those two beasts you call a security team standing outside of the door for absolutely no reason?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows.

"Your Highness," Merlin added sourly.

They stared each other down for several, long, painful seconds before Arthur shook his head. "No. No, absolutely not," he said. "It's suicide. I'm not even meant to be here, I just felt really bad for you."

"You want to do something for me, something to ease your guilt, right? I want you to take me outside! It's not hard!"

"Pick something else."

"I don't want to pick something else."

"You're insufferable!" Arthur growled.

"I can be when I can't smoke," Merlin replied sincerely.

"You're in a hospital, trying to recover from a near-death experience. Giving yourself lung cancer kind of defeats the point."

Merlin sighed dramatically and shrugged. He was tired, and he was hungry, and he couldn't really believe that he was having this conversation. "Hey, the only reason I'm here in the first place is because of—"

"Fine!" Arthur threw up his hands. "Okay! Fine!"

"You're doing the right thing," Merlin said, and it was almost worrying how serious he was.

Arthur rolled his eyes and threw open the door to the private room. He muttered something to one of the beasts with the brown hair, who promptly pulled up a wheelchair from out of nowhere and then began speaking quickly into his sleeve.

"Wow, people really do that. Talk into their clothes."

"Yes," Arthur said as he wheeled the chair into the room. He put it at the side of the bed and waved a hand in its direction. "Get in, then."

"You really are a prat, aren't you? I can't get into that by myself. I have a busted leg, a cast on my arm, and everywhere else is just about unmovable!"

"You sat up alright."

"Fine. Watch me fall out of the bed and hit my head on the side of the arm on the chair and then have to spend more time in this damn hospital, and it will be all your—"

"Alright!" Arthur cried as he began shrugging out of his leather jacket. He threw it over the seat Hunith had occupied some hours earlier, and he rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie. "Come here."

Merlin froze, his eyes bulging from his head as the Prince stalked toward him. He hadn't thought of that. "Oh, no, I was joking. No, I can do it."

"Shut up. I'll just chuck you in."

"Well, thanks," Merlin said dully.

Arthur's hands snaked under Merlin's bare legs and around his back, and the blonde lifted him expertly from the bed. Arthur set him carefully into the wheelchair, not exactly throwing him in, and Merlin tried to ignore their close proximity. He held his breath, suddenly frighteningly aware that he was only wearing a thin hospital gown.

"You're nothing but skin and bone," Arthur said as his hands slid slowly from underneath Merlin's thighs.

"We can't all eat like kings, you know."

"Funny."

"It is."

Merlin was in considerable pain, despite the drugs giving him a headrush, but he sat straight and cradled his arms in his lap after straightening the gown to look somewhat dignified. Arthur began to wheel him out of the room.

"Leon. Merlin here is determined to get his cigarette, and we need to give him it."

"Good afternoon," Merlin said cheerfully, craning his neck up to the brown-haired beast.

"Sire—I've already spoken to Perce outside. There's no way we're going to get out there."

"I have promised this gentleman a cigarette, and that is what he shall get."

"How noble of you," Merlin chimed in.

"Surely there's a back entrance? A fire escape?" Arthur asked as he looked between Leon and the other bodyguard. "It's the only thing that's going to get him to shut up, and we owe him the favour. We were the ones to put him in here, after all."

The two beasts looked at each other for a moment, and then the unnamed one said, "Stay close to me," and then they were off down the corridor, Arthur pushing Merlin in the wheelchair with Leon behind them and the other leading the way. Merlin was grinning happily in spite of the absurd situation and the ache in his chest. The Prince of Wales was pushing his wheelchair.

Why wasn't Gwen or his mother here?

"The Prince of Wales is pushing my wheelchair," he said.

"Don't get used to it, kid," Beast-Leon told him.

"Yes, sir!"

"The morphine's making you crazy," came Arthur's voice from behind him.

"Do you know how much of the shit they've given me? I think it's wearing off, though."

"Are you in pain?" Arthur asked, and Merlin thought that he might have imagined the concern in the other's voice.

"Get in the lift," Leon ordered, ignoring them. "Ground floor. Don't get out first."

It was awfully quiet as Arthur crammed Merlin into it and stood behind the chair. The two burly bodyguards took positions beside them. Merlin was feeling woozy as they eventually came onto the ground floor, and the two men moved in tight formation around the Prince, who pulled up his hood and pushed Merlin behind Leon.

It shouldn't have been possible, but Leon found a fire exit, and then they were out in the winter sun and... there were paparazzi everywhere.

"Shit."

"Sire, go back! Back up!"

"Christ!"

"Move, move!"

There were excited shouts and flashes of cameras that fried Merlin's brain after Arthur had spun him around, and then Merlin was flying back along the corridor, feet pounding behind and beside him as somebody stayed and forced the door closed and locked it from the inside. Merlin had to refrain from squealing so as to not annoy the Prince even more, and then they were in the lift, and Leon was on the opposite side of the doors and shouting at the Prince to go up without him, and yes, they would deal with it, and would they please go back to Gaius, it would be handled with.

The elevator doors closed and Arthur all but collapsed on to one of the silver walls. "Hell! Did we really do all of that just because you want to smoke?" Arthur asked breathlessly.

Merlin was laughing, holding his sides as he trembled in his hysterics. Definitely the morphine which remained in his body. He felt lighter than air.

"It's not funny! We're lucky they only snapped photographs of the back of our heads! At least, I think they did!"

"Oh, it is, it is funny," Merlin said as he spluttered in the wheelchair and tried to find his own breath. The elevator rang and the doors opened, and a female voice announced the number of the floor they'd come onto. "I don't even smoke."

Arthur stared down at Merlin's unruly raven hair. His expression changed from one of disbelief to outrage in a split second. "You idiot!"

Merlin's face was struck with tears as he leaned back into the chair and let his head fall onto Arthur's stomach behind him. "Oh, God, let's do it again."

"I don't think so," the Prince said, still looking down at Merlin. Their eyes met, and Merlin remembered he with a sickening twist of his stomach that he was still in an ugly hospital gown and stuck in a wheelchair with his leg strapped up with cuts and bruises everywhere on his face, looking utterly and completely dreadful, and that he had his head against the Prince's stomach.

Merlin stopped laughing.

Arthur looked torn between the desire to scoff and cry out in rage. "I'm taking you back to your room," he announced through gritted teeth.

"Are you sure we can't go for some fresh air at least?"

"Shut up, Merlin."