The city had changed so much since the royal family fell. True, there was the lack of monuments now, the lack of color, the royal blues and whites that had decked out the palace, the new leader having purged any evidence of the grandness of the dynasty before him. The palace was an empty shell of what had once been, many windows broken or boarded up, the front gate closed forever.
But the change was most noticeable in the population. One could see it in the bent backs of the people as they shuffled past the palace each day for work, eyes always straying to the old building, as if to remind them of the time before. The new regime may be fair in the eyes of some, but to many, it was merely boring, with nothing to possibly cause a scandal, nothing to aspire to, nothing to keep anyone entertained and distracted by their station in life. The work had gotten harder without the diversion, without the political celebrities, and the exhaustion from the labor and the lack of hope had thinned the men and women of the country. The capital was no different, the streets silence until you got to the market.
Before, the common people could live off a bit of week old gossip, bickering among themselves over which princess would marry first, over when the old retired king would return to the palace, over the queen's gown during the anniversary celebrations. Now it was treason to even think of talking about the new government, let alone the men who ran it, and so the people slipped into a disgruntled silence, the country graying with every passing year. Even now, under the white blanket of snow, the streets were dull, much like the eyes of the peasants who walked them.
Today was different though. There was palpable excitement, though the soldiers who regularly patrolled the streets couldn't quite figure out why, people falling silent whenever a stranger approached, suddenly more interested in their work.
Poe Dameron watched this from his spot on the market's outskirts, puffing into his hands, rubbing them quickly, his thinning gloves barely keeping the winter cold out as he scanned the crowd around him, look for his next mark, his next target. His eyes skipped over the common people, knowing that he could never pickpocket a comrade. A soldier, however, was another story…
A minute later, Poe had a weight in his pocket, the heavy coins clinking merrily, the young private he had brushed against none the wiser. The petty thief smirked to himself, whistling as he continued walking, ducking into an alley. A few men nodded at him and he casually saluted them. The funny thing about the new government was that yes, it did bring the people together—but not the way you'd think.
Petty thieves and conmen flourished in this setting of extreme restriction, the criminals being unscrupulous enough to bridge the gap between illegal deeds and necessities. The common people came to them for information, for impossible-to-acquire paperwork. Poe himself was in that trade, working with his partner to draw up travel papers, falsifying passports, birth certificates, death certificates… whatever you needed, Poe and his partner could deliver.
That was as crazy as a con that Poe would pull—at least, that was what he believed, eye catching to a headline screaming "Million Dollar Reward for the Return of Princess Reyna!" He blinked once, almost rubbing his eyes to ensure that he read that correctly, realizing now that there was an entire line of the posters, the princess serenely smiling from each one.
The face was posted everywhere. The swarthy young man lunged forward, swiping one of the many posters lining the wall in the alleyway, eyes skimming the page as he was jostled by crush of bodies around him. He didn't really read the poster though—he didn't need to, with the gossip around him, catching snippets.
"Old king Ben has been looking for her since a year ago…" The two ladies walking in front of him tutted with pity, shaking their heads. "He's close to death, apparently, and he's still convinced that his grandchild is still alive, poor fool."
"But what if she is still alive?" The question was met with a harsh glare, the younger woman quickly casting her eyes down, realizing what she had just said. "Hold your tongue! Questions like that could get you sent to a camp!" The old companion dropped her voice, continuing. "Even if she isn't, there's money up for grabs."
The con glanced down at the poster again, tucking it into his coat quickly, a smile trying to break onto his lips as he quickened his pace, weaving through the people, breaking into a run as the path cleared. He had to tell Kylo, excitement lending speed to his gait.
In a moment, the palace was in view and Poe was shimmying through the gate's bars, pulling a loose one aside to ease his way. He waited until he was inside, darting up one of the grand staircases before he started calling.
"Kylo! I found our next job!" Poe stopped short of the last flight, catching his breath, his run having gotten the better of him as he wheezed, doubling up.
"If it has to do with the princess, I'm way ahead of you, pal." The man glanced up as his friend, tall and lanky, approached. Kylo looked down at his partner, smirking at the tanned man's scowl.
"You just have to kill my accomplishments, don't you?" Kylo ignored that comment, motioning his friend to follow as he took the stairs up, two at a time, almost as if he wanted to see the other man jog to keep up.
The ten years between his old life and the present had been relatively kind to Kylo, his face no longer that of a teenage kitchen boy, dark eyes glancing at the once grand walls. Out of habit, his hand reached out, patting a royal portrait as he walked by, the youngest princess serenely staring out from the canvas. There was a twinge of regret, maybe even of sadness as he felt the poster in his pocket with every step. She didn't deserve to have a con job done with her name attached—but surely his little friend understood.
He had done his best to serve her when her family had still walked in these halls, now empty except for Poe and him, a kitchen and stable boy, respectively. For a moment, he could almost hear her laughter as he passed by the nursery, old toys laying scattered and broken, a fine layer of dust coating them. Kylo sighed, stroking his beard, his mind trying to get him back to the task at hand.
Poe trailed behind him in silence, waiting for his friend to come out of his reverie. From a job aspect, it was lucky for them that Kylo had known the princess personally, being able to supply little known details—and a strange little box. The former kitchen boy insisted that it was a music box, but neither of them had heard the tune, the little device locked since the night the palace was sacked. Still, he was sure that it would help them in some way—he just didn't know how yet.
"Did you make anything today?" The question was almost absentminded, and Poe jumped, Kylo's deep, dry voice almost unfamiliar after the small spell of silence.
"You know I did." He rattled the coin purse he had stolen from the soldier early, and Kylo harrumphed at him as he strode into the former queen's study, plopping down in the desk chair, fingers steepling as he thought. Poe leaned against the doorframe, waiting for the grand scheme, the excitement building as the two exchanged a glance, Kylo leaning forward.
"We're going to rent a theater—stay with me on this—and find some actress dumb enough to play the part. If she looks like the princess, even better." He reached for the music box from its perch on the desk, tracing it with his fingers as he continued. "We'll buy three tickets to Paris, teach her what she needs to know on the way. The old man will probably be too overjoyed to even care that we found him an imposter, we get the money and we never return to this god forsaken country."
Poe chuckled, sitting now, leveling a look at his partner. "And I suppose you want me to go out and book the theater tonight?" The swarthy man groaned a bit when his friend flashed a smile at him, getting up and shrugging on his coat again. "The things I do for money."
"It's our biggest con, Poe. After this one, we'll never have to work again." Kylo heard Poe's sardonic snort, and then his heavy footsteps on the stairs, trekking away. He'd be back later, and until then, Kylo would just wait, leaning back in his chair, music box still in hand.
The regret pricked up again, and the man sighed, running a hand through his hair in agitation. He doubted the princess would hold this against him. For all he knew, she was dead. The thought made him shudder, but he squared his shoulders. He was almost thirty years old—it was time to forget about the little girl who made him learn how to dance with her. It was time to forget those eyes, the ones that burned him in his dreams, the ones that implored him to come back and follow her, to stay with her, music box be damned.
Kylo sighed again, leaning his chin against his hand, looking around the room. The dead only wish the best for the living, right? Little Reyna wouldn't resent him for making his life better. If she did…well, he would live with it. That's all he could do now, after all.
