Keepers of the Dead

by RosalindsGhost

Summary:

Death is only the beginning.

Notes:

Here it is. The Star Wars/The Mummy AU that we've been foaming at the mouth for since Poe Dameron first dressed like Rick O'Connell.

I hope you enjoy!

Comments and kudos are welcome!!

Chapter 1: Prologue

Prologue

EXT. CAIRO - DAY

 

Five thousand years ago, the first King and Queen of Egypt, the god Osiris and his bride Isis – goddess and healer – ruled the Land of the Nile with harmony and goodness. Together, they brought agriculture to the fertile river valley, leading the people of Egypt into an unprecedented time of prosperity and plenty. Cultural pursuits flourished, and the people were happy and healthy.

 

The brother of Osiris – Set, King of the Desert – was jealous of their success, and most especially jealous that Isis did not belong to him.

 

One day, while Isis was absent, sowing the fields and caring for the ill, Set ambushed Osiris, murdering and dismembering his brother. The wicked god then scattered the pieces of the corpse to every corner of Egypt. When Isis returned, she was devastated to learn her husband was slain and his throne usurped. Rather than accept Set’s command to remain at his side as his wife, Isis chose exile and the long, lonely quest to recover and to lay her husband’s remains to rest.

 

When Isis recovered the final piece of Osiris, his head, she found it buried with the Sword of Set, the very weapon used for the murder. With every piece assembled, her husband was miraculously restored. Together, they raised the people to rebel against Set, leading an attack on his palace.

 

Using his own weapon against him, Isis condemned Set to the same fate as her husband. The evil King was mummified alive, and his corpse dismembered into 42 pieces, one for each of the Nomes[1] of Egypt.

 

It is foretold that should Set’s body ever be restored by a daughter of Isis, his power would rise again, bringing darkness and terror to the world.

--

 

[1] The forty-two provinces of ancient Egypt.

Chapter 2: Scene One

Summary:

Introducing our heroine...

Notes:

And the second chapter, just cuz I like you :)

Scene 1

INT. THE CAIRO MUSEUM LIBRARY - DAY

 

--

 

The museum is stiflingly hot, the air so still as to be thick. It’s practically empty, the occasional gust of wind shuffling sheafs of paper the only – well, not quite the only – sound. There is also the careful scratch of a fountain pen, the slow flip of pages. Beneath that, if one were to listen carefully enough, the breath of two sets of lungs, the beat of two hearts. One pounds with anxiety.

 

Tucked away in a back corner of the library at a large teak table, nearly hidden behind a tall pile of books, Rey Palpatine sites, copying a cartouche from a history of the First Kingdom into a small black notebook. She appears utterly oblivious to the high temperature in spite of the formal, long-sleeved blouse and skirt she wears. Though she’s professional and well-kept, there’s something about her overall demeanour that’s a little bit casual, a little bit careless. The scarf at her neck is slightly askew, the neckline of her blouse gaping open just a bit. Her skirt is perhaps an inch or so shorter than is usual, but still well within the bounds of propriety.

 

Though she acts like it, she isn’t alone. An enormous man, dressed all in black, sits a way behind her, watching her with an intensity bordering on fixation. The only indication Miss Palpatine gives of an awareness of his presence is a subtle tension in her spine, a tightness in her jaw. Her pen continues its precise motion, as it has all afternoon, and every afternoon previous for the past fortnight.

 

She and her glowering companion have only recently begun leaving the British military fort on a regular basis – her grandfather finally loosened the reins when she hadn’t gotten into a hint of trouble for more than a month. The freedom to read and research is such a luxury in comparison to the restrictions she’s been living under. Of course, completing said research unaccompanied would be ideal, but it isn’t an option at the moment.

 

Miss Palpatine just wishes that her guardian was anyone but Kylo Ren, her grandfather’s number one man.

 

He's monosyllabic and intimidating at best, terrifying and… fanatical at worst. She doesn’t want to be anywhere near him, truth be told. Abruptly and without warning, the movement of her pen ceases. Aloud, she says: “This cartouche…. I need to cross-reference it with the legend of Set—”

 

She glances around her sharply, resolutely ignoring how her warden has hunched into menacing tension, seeking out the catalogue plate she needs. “S, S… Ssss. Seti… and there! Set!” At the very top of a towering bookcase sits the row of volumes dedicated to the god of disorder and violence, deserts and storms. Before Mr. Ren has a chance to move, she’s climbing the ladder leaning against the opposite case.

 

“Miss Palpatine,” he rumbles, voice a warning, “This is unnecessary. I will summon a docent.”

 

“Nonsense,” she responds breezily, still climbing, now halfway up and gaining, “I am perfectly safe, Mr. Ren.”

 

With a quick glance over her shoulder, she can see the hired goon pacing at the base of the ladder like a caged animal, and she gulps but keeps going. Once at the top, she twists around to look at the shelf opposite. “Alright, Mr. Set,” she says, now babbling a little in her haste, “Let’s see what you have for me!”

 

The young woman bodily thrusts her arm out into the open space between the shelves, reaching across for the book she needs.

 

“Miss Palpatine!” Ren growls, now staring furiously up at her.

 

She ignores him, swinging more of her weight off the ladder. Just a little further. She stretches her fingers to their very limit, one of her feet leaving the ladder rungs. For a moment, she hangs suspended, almost weightless above the massive man on the tiled floor below. Suddenly, with an almost comical springing! noise, the ladder overbalances. Barely breathing, she’s poised atop it, balancing like a mummer wearing a pair of stilts. She clings for dear life.

 

A nervous glance downward shows that Ren is frozen beneath the ladder, clearly torn between the desire to steady it and the fear that one wrong move might topple her. Her weight shifts a little, and her perch wobbles dangerously. She sucks in a sharp breath, but it’s too late and she’s suddenly plunging toward the bookcase in front of her.

 

The young woman lets out a somewhat undignified yelp, but it’s lost to the deafening crash of the case falling over, knocking into its neighbour. Like dominoes, a cascade of books and shelves begin to come down, and Miss Palpatine leaps clear, rolling to a painful stop on the floor several feet away. She regains her wits just in time to watch the last bookcase come crashing down. Mr. Ren, clearly caught off guard, attempts to dive out of the path of debris but isn’t entirely successful.

 

When the dust clears and the last shifting volume settles atop the mountains of paper and wood, she can see him laid out on the floor, unconscious, half-buried beneath books and the final shelf.

 

Giggling breathlessly, Miss Palpatine flees out into the streets of Cairo.

 

--

 

Chapter 3: Scene Two

Notes:

A quick note - Poe has some period-typical sexist thoughts about Rey's capabilities as a woman. DON'T WORRY. He's gonna be happily corrected very soon.

Scene Two

EXT. – ARCHEOLOGICAL DIG – THE CAIRO DESERT - DAY

 

On the edge of the Cairo desert, a flurry of activity and noise draws the attention of two men dressed in khaki and linen, one olive-skinned with a head of dark, windswept curls, and the other with a close-dropped cap of dense curls, his dark skin glistening beneath. Sitting atop folding stools under a canvas canopy with their heads together only moments before, both jump instantly into action as though ready for battle.

 

Sand kicks up beneath their feet as they both rush toward the commotion, originating from behind a particularly huge dune. Both men slow as they round the massive, shifting hill of sand, a peculiar sound suddenly audible beneath the general hubbub of the Egyptian dig crew. Loud, rapid Arabic overlaps the occasional English phrase, and a lower, sweeter tone. Poe Dameron, the elder of the two foreigners, glances toward his companion Mr. Trooper, sharing a quick, skeptical look. That sounds almost like—

 

“…see the inscription here? The bas relief. It reads that a grave curse will be visited upon any who disturb this tomb—” a distinctly feminine voice is saying as Dameron comes within view of the partially uncovered passage into the mausoleum.

 

All work has ceased, and a small crowd has gathered, most of their crew gaping senselessly at a young woman, of all things. For a moment, the man can’t believe his eyes. Like a vision, she’s appeared from nowhere, her striking beauty ethereal and undeniable. Creamy pale skin, dotted with enticing freckles, is visible at her throat, her curling chestnut hair escaping wildly from a sensible bun. A broad smile, brighter even than the Egyptian sun, graces her pink lips he’s seized by the sudden desire to taste them. She can’t be real. She’s like some kind of mirage.

 

He blinks.

 

She’s still there. The woman isn’t some heat-addled dream. She’s real.

 

“Who the hell are you?” Mr. Dameron blurts.

 

The young woman looks up sharply, and it’s like time stops. He’d already been prepared to rate her one of the prettiest girls he’s seen, but her eyes skyrocket her straight to the top. Large and sparkling, soft and oh so green and gold, they seem to almost glow, eclipsing her other features. They’re spellbinding.

 

Unfortunately, those incredible eyes are filled with rage.

 

Luckily, Trooper steps in. “What my colleague means, is,” he says loudly but politely, “Can we help you, Miss—?”

 

That powerful gaze trains on his friend, her expression immediately clearing. “On the contrary, it is I who can help you, sir.”

 

Dameron feels himself prickle at the comment, hackles raising. Some Limey broad just waltzed onto his dig without warning, and now, she’s what? Implying that she might somehow know better than his two decades’ experience?

 

“Look, lady,” he begins, but the cuts him off, ignoring him completely.

 

“These inscriptions are nothing to be trifled with,” she haughtily warns, “The pharaohs didn’t just leave metaphorical threats. According to my research, the tomb you’ve uncovered belonged to Anum, high priestess of Set.”

 

She pauses, as though expecting the gathered spectators to understand the implication behind her words.

 

“Anum was known for her ingenious booby traps. As controversial a religious figure as she would need every defence imaginable from grave robbers and defilers.”

 

“Meaning?” he interjects sharply.

 

“Meaning,” she looks back to the elder of the two men, tone annoyed, “That if your men remove this stone before the rest, they’ll all be killed in the tunnel collapse.”

 

Dameron scoffs, rolling his eyes, but his companion puts a hand on his arm. Trooper has unparalleled instincts for digs – the mind of an architect, that one – and if he has even the slightest concern that this mystery girl might be right, then they at least need to test it. He lets out a long-suffering sigh, gesturing for the other man to go ahead.

 

The younger man steps forward, bending down next to the woman to examine the indicated block of stone. Mr. Trooper spends several long moments scrutinising it from all angles, reaching out to give the occasional light tap to the rock. After a stretch of silence, both the mysterious woman and his partner turn back to look at Dameron. His partner nods once, and his stomach drops in response. Shit. Her words have merit.

 

This is just what they need. He can immediately see where this is going. She’ll be impossible to get rid of, now, and with the way Mr. Trooper is eyeing her, he doubts he’ll have much say in whether or not she stays. Some uppity, educated, upper crust Brit – a woman, and a pretty one, no less – has just been proven right at his dig site. He’s stuck with her. Never mind what he thinks about her looks, or the unwelcome feeling of being mildly impressed by her knowledge. He certainly isn’t the slightest bit curious about her mysterious appearance from nowhere.

 

He releases another exasperated sigh, then turns back toward his tent, gesticulating over his shoulder for Mr. Trooper and the woman to follow.

Notes:

Sure, Poe. We all believe you.

Chapter 4: Scene Three

Summary:

Poe and Finn find out why Rey came looking for them.

Notes:

Hello! I guess this is a week late? 😬

I'm so sorry about that. I should be back to posting every other week after this!

I hope you all enjoy - comments and kudos are encouraged 🤭

Scene Three

INT. – SURVEYOR’S TENT – THE CAIRO DESERT – DAY

 

The odd collection of three seat themselves back under the shade of the canvas awning, Dameron and Trooper facing the unknown young woman, the former scowling suspiciously at her. She, in turn, has eyes only for his partner. The dig foreman resolutely pushes aside the unaccountable burst of hot, green jealously he feels as a result.

 

“Care to enlighten us on just who the hell you are, and how you came to be here, lady?” he growls abruptly, already fed up.

 

He feels like he’s being somehow kept out of the loop already. Like this girl is going to be around for as long as she wants, and he has absolutely no say in it. Instinct tells him that events are about to rapidly spiral out of his control, and he’ll only be along for the ride.

 

Before Mr. Trooper can even think of interceding, the slight woman has rounded on the older man. “I was under the impression that I was speaking to the two most experienced Egyptologists on the continent, but perhaps I should take my business elsewhere.”

 

She stands, making to leave as she continues, “Perhaps someone else would like to know the location of the Temple of Set.”

 

“Whoa, hold your horses!” Dameron throws up his hands placatingly as his partner actually stands to prevent her from leaving.

 

“The Temple of Set?” Mr. Trooper exclaims, reaching out to gently clasp her wrist, tethering her to them.

 

The older man finds himself unhealthily fixating on the contact. “Look, sweetheart,” he sighs, trying for a conciliatory tone, “we’re professionals, not mercenaries or fortune hunters. The Temple of Set is a myth.”

 

The younger man nods in agreement: “Hundreds have wasted their lives on the naïve pursuit of the Temple of Set. No one’s ever found it. And most who went looking never came back.”

 

“What makes you think you can find it, anyway?” Dameron interjects, almost accusatory.

 

“I’m Rey Palpatine.”

 

Both gentlemen freeze solid, as unexpected and stationary as blocks of ice in the Sahara. Sheev Palpatine is the most famous and well-funded Egyptologist of a generation. But descendants? No one has ever heard hide or hair of one. And this random girl is claiming him as a relation?

 

Mr. Trooper recovers his wits first. “Sir Palpatine is your—”

 

“Grandfather,” she finishes. “I’ve studied Egypt my entire life, and my research has led me to believe not only that the Temple of Set is real, but that my grandfather is also trying to find it.”

 

Dameron huffs. “So, what, you’re trying to recruit us on his behalf? The old man’s too tired to do the work on his own?”

 

She looks utterly offended at his remark. “What? No! Never. I want you two to help me find it first.”

 

Poe throws back his head and laughs. “Help you?” his voice is haughty and disbelieving, but he does catch the disappointed puppy look that Trooper shoots him. “It’s one thing to study, honey. You’re clearly not built for the real thing.”

 

The underline his point, he gives her a slow, condescending once-over, taking in her slightly disheveled appearance (which frustratingly does absolutely nothing to take away from how stunning she is). When he glances back up at her face, her cheeks are flushed an alarming shade of pink with her fury. Just as she opens her mouth to no doubt put him in his place – and a part of him thrills darkly at the idea – when another huge ruckus is suddenly being kicked up around the dig site.

 

As one, they turn to look for the source of the noise. Atop the distant dune at the mouth of the crypt, a score of men in sleek black uniform are roughly rounding up the workers, shouting and threatening them with rifles. A soft gasp draws his attention away from the strange scene and back to their female companion.

 

Her face is the picture of fear.

 

“My grandfather’s men,” she breathes, “They’re here for me.”

 

Mr. Trooper tears his gaze away from the intimidating group.

 

“What do you mean?” he asks.

 

She grimaces, beginning to back away, instinctively moving in the opposite direction of the soldiers. “Well, you see… I might have run away from him, and if I go back now, I might never get another chance to escape… And I doubt he’ll be much kinder to the both of you if he suspects you’ve been helping me.”

 

“Well, thanks for that,” Dameron huffs, hot, molten frustration bubbling up in his chest along with a strange pang of sympathy. It doesn’t sound as though Miss Palpatine has had a day of freedom in her entire life. But that doesn’t mean he asked to become involved in her bullshit.

 

She seems to sense this, glancing at him beseechingly. “I promise, I can get you both out of here and to the Temple of Set, but I need your help. Please? Can you help me?”

 

The young woman’s expression is desperate, pleading.

 

His lips part to speak even though he isn’t yet sure how he plans to respond, but Mr. Trooper beats him to it.

 

“Of course, we’ll help, Miss Palpatine!”

 

“Good,” she replies, her countenance suddenly focused in a way that lights up Dameron’s spine, “Then follow me!” and takes off running – not away from the soldiers, but straight toward them.

Notes:

Surprise!!

Why is Rosalind starting another WIP when The Movement is still being written and she is currently participating int he weekly Damerey Challenge????

Because she has no self-control.

ANYWAY.

I am going to ATTEMPT to make this a regularly updating fic, as the chapters are going to be quite short with the way I have structured it. Look for this story bi-weekly (that's every other week) on Fridays.

Comments and kudos are welcome! :)