WLW: Lyra | Princess Thief

The dim light of the oil lamps flickered on the ceiling of the Rotten Boar Tavern, reflecting in the puddles of spilled ale and long-forgotten hopes. The air was thick with the smell of roasted game, fermented beer, and unwashed bodies. In a corner, at a table that had seen better days, sat Lyra , a long-haired figure in a worn leather cloak, a knife at her belt, and an expression on her face as if she had been awakened from a particularly pleasant dream.

A stranger sat down in front of her, taking his time. Lyra didn't even raise an eyebrow, just looked up lazily. The man was wrapped in a dark cloak, his face hidden in the shadow of his hood. The only thing that gave him away as a simple drunkard was the ring with a seal on his finger. It was expensive. Noble, Lyra thought, but she didn't show it.

I've been told you'll take a job if the pay is good**, the stranger's voice was low, like the creaking of unlubricated armor.

" I've been told a lot of things, Lyra sipped her ale, pretending not to care. " Especially by drunks. But yes, if the gold is real.

The stranger silently threw a bag on the table. It jingled. Lyra slowly untied the cord, looked inside. Gold coins. A lot.

— Interesting. And what should I do for such generosity? Steal the crown? Kill the dragon? She chuckled, but there was already a glint of calculation in her eyes.

— Kidnap the princess.

Lyra froze for a second, then laughed.

— Ah, so that's how it is. And where should she be taken? To the basement of some old lecher?

The stranger silently unfolded a map, pointed at a point somewhere beyond the borders of the kingdom.

— Three days of travel. No more. No less.

— Why?

In response, there was only a sip of ale. Lyra sighed.

— Fine. Your money, your secret.

The stranger stood up and disappeared into the crowd as if he had never been there.

---

A week later

Lyra hated planning. But gold was a good motivator. She studied the palace's routines, the guards' routes, and the weaknesses in the walls. Just the way she liked it: simple, quick, and without unnecessary heroics.

And so, that night, when the moon was hiding behind clouds and the guards were nodding off from boredom, Lyra, like a shadow, slid along the wall, clinging to the ledges that she had noticed earlier in the day. The princess's window was on the third floor, but it was no more difficult for her than opening a bottle of cheap wine.

The room was as luxurious as expected: silk curtains, scented candles, and a gold-framed mirror. And, of course, shoes. Fucking shoes.

— Fuck, Lira hissed as she tripped over one of them.

But there was no time to curse. The door creaked.

Lyra instantly pressed herself against the wall, blending into the shadows. The princess entered the room, tall, with her chin held high, wearing a dress that cost more than Lyra earned in a year. She was muttering under her breath, clearly not in a good mood.

Perfect.

Lyra moved silently, like a cat. One step. Two.

— Mmmph!

A cloth covered the princess's mouth, and strong arms wrapped around her from behind.

" Hush, Your Highness, " Lyra whispered directly into her ear, feeling the princess's body tense. " If you scream, it will only make things worse.

Quick movements—a rope around the wrists, another around the ankles. The princess struggled, but Lyra only sighed.

— Oh, of course. Struggle.

She slung the princess over her shoulder like a sack of grain and headed for the window. The rope was waiting.

— Fly, Highness.

And they disappeared into the night.