From his vantage point underneath the King's bed, Merlin is able to see little other than the overhanging bedclothes covering the unconscious monarch.

Soft footsteps join the steady drip of the mandrake root hanging next to him.

A delicate pair of intricately decorated shoes stop next to the bed.

A slender, pale hand reaches down under the bed and, firmly grasping the dripping mandrake root, tears it away from its hangings.

The shoes turn and head towards the door.

Heart in his mouth, Merlin peers around the sumptuous bedclothes.

His heart almost stops dead at the sight of long, dark tresses of hair that can only belong to one.

Morgana.