The Thief

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Quick authors note before I begin. Merlin has never met Arthur, so he turned out exactly like his father. The purge never really ended, Arthur carried on the pursuit to rid the world of sorcery.

Merlin had a little brother, who was killed along with his parents in an attack by Camelot. Remember the little brother, he becomes very very important.

Ight now that's out of the way enjoy!!

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Since childhood Merlin has been able to blend with a crowd. At the age of five he watched his family brutally and mercilessly slaughtered by the Knights of Camelot.

Ever since he has been on the streets of the small town of Ealdor, where you had to be invisible to survive. He moved around frequently in an attempt to stay hidden from the rest of the world. Merlin had to grow up quickly, his innocence nothing more than a distant memory. Pick-pocketing became second nature as no one paid him any attention. His petite stature helped him to disappear, a trait carried well into adulthood.

Now at twenty five summers, Merlin is known far and wide under his alias The Ambrosius Thief. His talent is matched by none other. Most stories depict the warlock as a shadow, moving swiftly without a trace he was ever there. He was beyond picking pockets, turning to larger prizes such as Noblemen's homes or travelling merchants.

Aided by his magic, he could take down a whole army. So a couple of weak guards were nothing to the cocky thief. His ego was so inflated that he barely cared if he was seen. He simply killed them where they stood, not discriminating between young and old, rich or poor.

In a tavern close to his temporary housing, he caught word of a huge celebration at Camelot's Citadel. Merlin smirked at the news. 'Lets kill two birds with one stone.'

Merlin's POV:

"So what exactly is this celebration for?" I ask, slipping the already blasted knight another tankard of mead.

"It's the King's coronation. People from all over are gathering to watch the ceremony. But between you and me, I will be there for the drinks." His voice slurred to the point where I could barely understand him, but I had enough information. It sounds like there will be many types of people, peasants included. Easy way for me to slip in undetected. No one bats an eye at a filthy peasant.

But when have I done anything the easy way.

"You look unwell, I don't want you hurting yourself on the way home. You can stay at my place if you want. Make me feel less guilty for getting you this drunk." Lies. This is fun.

"Thanks mate." He laughed, clapping me on the back. I resisted the urge to snap his arm. Instead I shot him a toothy grin and hoisted him up from the bench. We navigate our way through the bustling tavern and out into the chilling night. Winter is fast approaching, making my job all the more difficult. Breaking into houses with the residents still inside is a lot harder!

Plus disposing of unfortunate witnesses is exhausting.

We reach my small hut after an agonising hour of staggering and slurred conversation. The quicker he passes out the quicker I can get the hell out of this town. I forcefully set him down on my bed, my nimble fingers slipping the armour of his disgustingly sweaty body.

"I like you, you're nice." The knight mumbled, fatigue settling into his body. I may have aided it, speeding up his inevitable passing out. What can I say, I'm impatient.

I nod in contempt when I hear the soft snores, proceeding to change into my chain mail and "borrowed" armour. I pull my mask over my mouth and nose, so only my eyes are visible under my hood. Hopefully the armour doesn't draw too much attention. But then again, I do love a good challenge.

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