#POOR VI AND THE INJURIES ON HER HANDS FROM PUNCHING THE WALL

[arcanegifs]

ive been obsessed with this one frame for hours

[scribeofmorpheus]

The Rebel Queen (vi)

Chapter Six: Aftermath

Pairing: Poe Dameron x (OFC) Princess Calista Ordell

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | A03

Words: 3k | Warnings: More ramblings of a delusional fanfic writer…

A/N: Ahhh! The Mandalorian’s trailer dropped and I’m… Whew! On a separate note, here is a post that links to causes to help aid Brazil Indigenous tribes and here is an article that talks about what is happening and other causes you may want to check out.

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Epilogue | About Thesmora

The Somnambulist strained against Odhen’s hands, the nav-stick rigid and stubborn. His hands were sweaty and raw, his muscles shaking as he tried to keep the ship from tearing in half from the intense speeds she was flying through. The Somnambulist had taken too much damage and hadn’t received nearly enough love. It was a miracle she was still holding fast.

“Climb, girl, climb,” he spoke endearingly to the metal ship as they broke through Takodana’s stratosphere. Heat from the friction of speed licked at his windshield.

Using the back of his hand, Odhen whipped the sweat from his forehead and pushed it up into his greasy hairline. A shaky laugh breaking through the empty cockpit as he finally saw stars.

He felt like he could finally slouch back in his chair, then he heard Koa scream loud and shrill. His heart started to race all over again as he swallowed against the dry lump in his throat. A weak sigh leaving him as he blinked away the images that plagued his mind. He blinked away the sound of his wife’s dying breaths coming through, delayed and nearly inaudible, via a weak tight-beam transmission. Now his eyes were watering and he stared down at the medal meant to signify heroism on his jacket and he sobbed, hand pulling the pin so tightly it threatened to tear through his jacket’s tough material.

Relief surged through him when Koa went silent. The whole ship was deader than a graveyard after that. The only sound was the Somnambulist’s soothing thrum. Ton-Ton waddled over, exhausted pants leaving his unseen mouth as he handed a data-pad to Odhen, revealing in Jawaese what was on it.

Odhen wiped his face with the rag that always hung on his belt, the smell of grease was strong, but he didn’t care. He read over the coordinates and swore. Fate was a cruel mistress. Of all the damned places in the entire galaxy, of course their next stop would be the one place he swore never to return to. D’Qar.

Ton-Ton jumped several times, trying his best to get into the co-pilot seat and Odhen chuckled with no humour as he watched his friend struggle to get up. The Jawa took offence at his rudeness and pulled out a wrench from under his robes and threw it at Odhen’s head.

In sluggish movements, using limbs too tired to function, Odhen blocked the wrench from hitting into his face but that just transferred the impact to his shattered elbow and he winced.

“The elbow, mind the elbow, you short devil!” Odhen hissed as he rubbed at his old war injury.

With a grumble, he picked Ton-Ton up and placed him on the chair, an accusatory finger wiggling in front of the Jawa’s one eye, “How many times have I lectured you about hittin’ people? This is my ship, I’m in charge and I’m orderin’ you to cut it out before I space you.”

Ton-Ton swore at him in rapid-fired shots, his little hands whacking the air causing his robe’s sleeves to swish about. Odhen was about to trade his own insults but then he suddenly stopped himself. He was no mood for their exhausting dynamic.

He punched in the coordinates and with a prayer that they wouldn’t be turned to stardust, he set the ship into hyperdrive and just watched the raining stars for a quiet minute.

“I need a drink,” Odhen complained as he licked the sides of his dry cheeks. “Keep us from collidin’ with a satellite will ya’.”

Ton-Ton dismissed him with a wave, then barked over his shoulder as Odhen stood to leave.

“I’m not your barmaid, get one yourself,” Odhen replied.

Ton-Ton made a snide comment and Odhen shook his head before giving in to the Jawa’s request, “Fine, what d’ya want?”

Ton-Ton’s pitch raised with uncertainty as he prattled on. Odhen held up his hand to stop the little firecracker from droning on and giving him a headache.

“We ain’t got none of that. I don’t even know why you think we would. We’re smugglers, not snooty aristocrats. We got some Thessi hooch and we got one cask left of that fancy Ne'tra gal stuff we were supposed to deliver. Pick your poison.”

Ton-Ton answered in monotone and Odhen nodded in response.

“Hooch. Commin’ up,” Odhen blinked slowly as he made his way to the lower decks.

 Odhen passed the med bay on his way to the lower deck. Inside he saw Koa in a medically induced coma, her vital organs hooked up to old and beaten machines that needed replacing at least a decade ago. Her warm breath fogged up the mask that covered half her face. Fresh blade slashes and green contusions on her bronze skin marred her arms and legs to imperfection. It would be more accurate to say one and a half arms now. 

There was a faint smell of antiseptic and burned hair. It itched at his nose. The white gown they had dressed her in reminded Odhen of funerals and with that simple, unwanted thought, his heart palpitated uncomfortably. 

She was so young, too young to look like this. He didn’t think he could survive seeing someone die again. It filled him with fear. 

He felt heavy all of a sudden, a name he hadn’t uttered in years slipping out as he braced his jacket at the left side, “Len…”

All of a sudden, the young, freckle-faced boy who held himself like a man, wandered up to Odhen, a sparkle in his eye that meant he knew who he was approaching –and it wasn’t Odhen Boro the smuggler, it was the other guy, the so-called hero.

“Heya, we didn’t get the chance to properly be introduced. I’m-“

Odhen frowned, he didn’t need another name to go with another face. He knew enough of those already and no good had come of adding more to his memory. “I don’t care.”

“Oh,” Zeeke’s mouth fell, his outstretched hand crumpling into a ball as he shoved it back into his pale blue utility pants, the other held onto a blood-stained brown jacket too big for his slender arms. “I just… I wanted to ask-“

Odhen brushed passed him, determined to be alone, “If you need something go ask the droid, it’s what he’s bloody there for.”

“I- Uh… sorry. Of course, I just wanted to say thanks, is all,” Zeeke ducked away in search of Watts.

Odhen pressed the pads of his fingers to his eyes until he saw white spots. 

“Now I need two bloody drinks,” he grimaced.

Calista sat with her head in her hands and her body slumped against a cold metal wall. The floor was uncomfortable, digging through her thighs until it found bone. She didn’t care. At least it meant she was still capable of feeling. She was exhausted. After having a disagreement with Mokk-Toh about his not wanting to be put under to allow his wounds to heal faster, Calista decided that the one thing she needed more than anything was solitude. Or the next best thing in a smugglers ship.

The thrum of the engine was louder here below deck. It smelled of ozone and the air tasted like foam. It was probably the effect of being so close to the fuel converters. The darkness was soothing though, and that’s all that mattered to her.

The sound of clanking echoed from an equally dark compartment, the grumbling and grumpy swearing let her know it was Odhen. His frustrated argument with inanimate objects made her smile. He may have been ungroomed, greasy and of poor manner, but something about Odhen struck Calista as being a man with a heart too sensitive for this time. A man guarded because he feared his own empathy, his own vulnerability. He reminded her of what her father would have turned into had he lived to see another war engulf the galaxy.

Another set of footsteps descended the ladder. Poe’s voice called out and Odhen yelped in surprise.

“Sorry,” Poe chuckled lightly. “Just looking for the kid. You seen him?”

“He ain’t here, last I saw he was by the med bay,” Odhen said.

“I just came from there, he’s not in the cockpit or the comms room.”

Odhen cleared his throat, “Look, I can’t help you. I don’t have eyes everywhere. I’m a pilot, not a Jedi.”

“You been drinking?” Poe asked with concern. 

“What of it?”

“I just expected the man in charge of navigating us through dangerous space to be sober enough to know the difference between which button launches a torpedo and which brings down the landing gear,” Poe said snidely.

“Why does everyone insist on talkin’ to me?” Odhen’s voice got an octave louder, “This is my ship. Don’t like how I run it, the airlocks that way.”

“What happened to you?” Poe asked almost with pity. “Those medals are Resistance issued. And assuming you didn’t steal them, you used to be more than… this.”

“Yeah, well if you’re the best General Leia has to offer, you’re in for a rude awakening kid. Wipe those stars out your eyes, this is war, war ain’t no place for poster boys like yourself. If you expect to live through it, you’ll be sporting a tough shell too,” Odhen spoke rudely and yet his words held an ominous premonition to it. 

Heavy feet clomped away and the whir of a door sliding open followed after. 

Calista heaved a sigh. All she wanted was some damn peace and quiet for two minutes. Two. Minutes.

She took a breath and cast her eyes up, staring at the buzzing light. Poe walked into the room and froze for a moment, taken aback by the fact someone else was down there with him.

“Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to…” His dark eyes narrowed, a thumb pointing behind him. “You didn’t hear any of that, did you?”

Calista smiled and said lazily, “I didn’t hear a thing.”

Poe chuckled, motioning to leave before something in his face decided otherwise, “You alright down here?”

“I’m fine.”

For some reason, he didn’t buy her words. Poe ruffled his hair before skittishly moving towards Calista, one thumb looped around his belt loop. After rocking on the balls of his feet, he sighed and slid down beside her.

There was only the sound of the engine thrum for a long time. Calista’s eyes kept wandering through the ship, her nails digging at the patterned panelling on the floor. Poe held his wrists with his knees digging into the crooks of his elbows.

“So, princess huh?” he said softly.

Calista chuckled, “You assumed. I merely went along with it.”

“A heads up would have been nice, now I look like a right fool in front of royalty,” he mused.

“Well, fool is a good look on you,” she joked.

He held out his hand, “We didn’t get the chance to have a proper introduction. Poe Dameron, Commander with the Resistance.”

Calista blinked slowly, fatigue circling her eyes, “Calista Ordell, Princess of Thesmora.”

They shook hands and then returned to staring at the wall in front of them.

“How’s your friend doing?” he asked.

Calista inhaled deeply, “I’d rather not… if that’s okay with you.”

Poe nodded, changing the subject, “You know, you two look a lot alike.”

Calista eyed him, nibbling at the corner of her mouth as she felt the muscle tug, “Is that your way of saying it wasn’t your fault that you mistook her for me?”

Poe scratched at the scruff under his chin, “Maybe…” he smiled. “But you do resemble each other.”

Calista started undoing one of her braids to keep her hands busy, “There’s some Ordell in her blood. A great grandmother or something other, I think. She got the warmer eyes though.” 

“And yet, why do I sense that she’s pricklier than you are?” 

“Because you spent five minutes arguing with her. That’s like arguing with a stone wall.”

They turned to each other and laughed in breathy puffs of air. Calista’s eyes growing smaller from the smile on her face. A bit of the weight was taken off her weary soul. She was thankful to him for that.

“She means a lot to you, huh?” he asked, fingers brushing against the letters stamped on his dog-tags, mind split between two places.

“I’ve known her for more than half my life. She’s the closest thing I’ll ever have to a sister,” Calista remarked with fondness, her voice quaky. “I can always count on her never be afraid to boss me around –to challenge me or have a normal conversation with me.”

Poe’s shoulder nudged hers, “What do you call this?” his finger circled between them and the dark, empty room.

She smirked, answering truthfully, “A distraction. One I was in dire need of… thank you.” She said earnestly. “It feels good to talk about anything other than war.”

Poe let go of his dog tags, a sliver of sadness pulling his lips back down, “I know the feeling. Vaguely.”

“I’m sorry about your men, on the ship,” she said wholeheartedly after another beat of silence.

Poe smiled with gratitude, but he didn’t look like a man in mourning, he was just shaken, “The apology is appreciated but not necessary. You didn’t kill them.” 

“What were they like?” she asked out of curiosity.

Poe’s jaw tensed before he replied with hollow words, “They were soldiers.”

Footsteps descended down to greet them in their small space.

“Hey hotshot, you down here?” it was Paige. 

“In here Tico,” he called out.

She followed after his voice, knocking into a few things on her way over. The first thing Calista noticed about her was that she wasn’t wearing her woolly hat. She looked much younger with her jet black hair falling in waves to shape her face. Poe was stunned for a moment but shook himself back to reality. The atmosphere had changed.

Paige’s eyes went wide when they met Calista’s, “Oh, uh… Your majesty –Am I allowed to call you that?– I wasn’t expecting to find you down here. I just…” She pointed at Poe. “Came down here looking for him.”

“Calista is fine, titles don’t matter much this far out in space,” she reassured the flustered Resistance soldier. 

Paige let out a breath, fingers running through her much tamer hair, “Good, thought I botched that one for a moment. I’m new to this whole… socialising with royalty thing.”

Paige shuffled awkwardly before tossing a brown jacket at Poe, “I found Zeeke. He got the droid to clean that for you by the way.”

Poe gave a mock salute with two fingers, “Where was he?”

Paige’s eyebrows rose high as she folded her arms, “In the comms room sending a tight beam.” 

“That was the first place I looked,” Poe informed her as he slipped into his Resistance issue jacket. 

“You guys must have gotten your wires crossed,” she huffed with an amused smile.

Poe stood from the ground, but didn’t offer Calista a hand up. Somehow he knew she wanted to stay in the dark a little longer. He nodded curtly at her with a knowing look and started towards Paige.

“You feeling better? No more nausea or vertigo?” his voice grew lighter.

Paige shrugged as she walked beside him, “Won’t lie, the nap helped a bunch. Mostly, I’m excited to get back to Rose and scraping the gunk off the wing thrusters…”

Calista closed her eyes as she took in the encompassing comfort of silence once more. The vibrations of the engine burrowing even deeper into her bones, all the way to her marrow. The vibrations turned comforting, like being held safely inside a womb with the sound of a mother’s heartbeat echoing throughout. Calista’s heavy lids grew heavier and she wasn’t strong enough to keep them open any longer. 

 Calista dreamed she was back on Thesmora, feet bare and planted on the white sands of the beach. The water was so clear it reflected the golden sunset back in a spectacular fashion. The warm water rushing up the sand lapped at her toes. She felt unburdened here. Free.

“Calista,” her mother’s voice sounded out from behind her and Calista gasped.

“Madani?” She whispered in shock as she spun around.

Mother?

Lo and behold, there she was, the magnificent Lenora Ordell. Queen of Thesmora. Mother. Wife. Sister. Ruler.

Her smile creased at her face, coily hair styled elegantly, eyes dusted purple –her signature colour. She held out her hands and Calista practically fell into her embrace. When she did, she felt smaller, shorter… younger.

Looking up, her mother seemed to be taller. Calista looked down at her hands and noticed they had shrunk to a child’s size, so had her toes. Her foot stepping in a footprint nearly three times the size of her own.

“You’ve got big shoes to fill,” a familiar masculine voice spoke out.

Calista removed her face from the sweet-scented fabric of her mother’s dress.

“Farhi?” she mumbled with joy

Father?

Calista turned to the side, eyes catching sight of the handsome and poised looking man who held his shoulders square and had the kindest golden eyes in all the galaxy. Duke Romaine Andrastas Belamon, consort to the queen, father and senator stood proudly before her. He looked barely a day older than when Calista last saw him. All her life, her father had been the older of her parents, but now, in the dream, it was her mother that looked older.

Childish Felix, beautiful, wryly and ill-mannered as he was, sprinted close to Calista’s stubby feet, tripping her onto the sand. Tears streamed down her face as she watched her brother run back to the ocean, her father lecturing him for his bad behaviour.

Lenora knelt down, knees digging into fine sand.

“Always find the courage to stand, my child,” a beautiful smile graced over Lenora's timeless features, her hand reaching down. “For as long as you believe you have the strength to keep going, then you will have the strength to keep going.” 

Calista rubbed at her cheeks, wiping hot tears away as she dusted her trousers and accepted her mother's outstretched hand. The sounds of her brother’s laughter tickling at her ear. 

“Remember Calista, just because you got knocked down, doesn’t mean you belong there.” Lenora helped Calista to her feet, glancing over at the golden shores of the beach, a content look in her eyes. 

As Lenora stepped to the side, a purple water lily grew in the spot where her feet had been planted. It was her coronation flower. The symbol that marked the start of her administration. To her people, purple meant strength in the face of adversity and great willpower –it also meant stubbornness and beauty. The water lily symbolised balance –someone of old faith with an open mind. 

Calista stared back at her own smaller footprint and noticed bare hyphae strands twining in the ground. No flower as yet. No identity as a ruler.

Boots crunched into the sand, clunky armour grinding at the joints. Calista jumped in fear when she saw Versengen encroaching towards her family. His footsteps turned the sand to glass, heat effervescing off the boot prints.

“You look so much like your father,” he repeated.

Calista spun around to look for her father, eyes darting anxiously, but he was gone, so was Felix. Nothing but clouds in the sky and waves on the shore. 

Something warm meandered along the length of her hand and she was shocked to discover it was blood. Calista’s head snapped up, seeing Maligma’s polished, dark nails wrapped around her mother’s throat while a sharp dagger was held close to her mouth. A fresh cut opened her mother’s throat so all she could do was gag voicelessly.

“Did you have a good day at the beach?” Maligma asked with an unhinging smile, her hair and body caught on fire, devouring everything like wildfire.

When she looked back at Versengen, he was inching his helmet off his head. The sun’s glare blinded her momentarily, and in that moment she thought she saw a familiar face hiding underneath the helmet. 

Then a cold touch shivered her out of her dream.

 Mokk-Toh hovered over her, his body looking the same; bruised, cut up and in need of rest. He removed his hand from her arm and stood upright, “We’re here princess.”

“Where’s here?” she rubbed her eyes to chase the blurry vision.

“D’Qar.”

To be continued...

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