Moving On

A/N – Dame Hannah's School for Young Girls is my name for the school that Dame Hannah proposed to Lyra that she attend at the end of The Amber Spyglass. It takes place at Dame Hannah's college, although I realize that she's not attending college there.

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Somewhere in the garden a bell was chiming.

Lyra Silvertongue and her daemon, Pantalaimon, sat motionless on a bench, half-listening to the bells in the distance as noon fell that Midsummer's Day. She was a maturing girl of sixteen, much changed from her adventures that seemed so long ago now.

Every Midsummer's Day, every year, no matter where she had traveled from or what she had been doing the day before, Lyra traveled to the bench in the Botanic Gardens in Oxford. Every single Midsummer's Day she was reminded painfully of the love that could have been but was now lost forever. But not forever, because every coin flip that turned up heads in her world turned up tails in another. Was there some other world where Will decided to leave his world for Lyra's, and where that other-Will perished months after his marriage to his other-Lyra? Had some other Lyra left her world for Will's, become a part of that world where people were unaware of their own souls inside themselves, where those "cars" traveled and polluted the roads and the noise smothered one's soul?

Was there some other world in which the Subtle Knife didn't create Specters? Was there some world that had a Lyra and a Will living together happily, never having had to worry about releasing the most terrible plague upon the world? It wasn't worth thinking about, because it wasn't going to happen. Lyra could only hope that somewhere a version of her was happy.

And she was happy here, wasn't she? She had everything that she wanted—everything but him. She was studying the Alethiometer at Dame Hannah's School for Young Girls, and every day she came closer to understanding more fully the instrument that she had once read effortlessly. Almost everyone at the School treated her politely and nicely, although there were exceptions, as it is with every school.

She had even had suitors. Billy Costa, the boy whom she had cavorted through the mud piles, slinging thick globs of earth at the brickburners' children with childish glee, had repeatedly tried to gain her affections. Undoubtedly he was attractive, as he was constantly pined after by many of the other girls at Dame Hannah's. Susan, one girl with whom she was particularly acquainted, repeatedly chided her for refusing to accept his advances. "He's gorgeous," she said dreamily, whenever Lyra attempted to convince her that Billy Costa was not for her. "And he's a Gyptian—you can see those muscles he's got from working on the narrowboat for years on end. And as if that wasn't enough, he's a perfect gentleman! I would've probably been going steady with him by now!"

And she was right, at least about most of it. Billy had never done anything that could be considered ungentlemanly, his muscles had tempted her on the occasions when Will wasn't in the forefront of her mind, and he had always treated her fairly; she supposed it would be easier to begin dating with someone that she was already familiar with. But she couldn't bring a part of her to move on, to accept that Will was gone and in his world forever. She felt like she had been brought within an inch of perfect happiness and then had it snatched away coldly without even a chance to mourn for what she had lost. Though everyone in her world had been sympathetic, she felt as though she'd barely returned home when she once again had to leave Jordan, this time for Dame Hannah's college.

So on that Midsummer's Day four years after that rushed final kiss in Cittágazze, Lyra Silvertongue had still plainly not moved on from her experience with William Parry, of the daemonless world of cinemas, Cokes, and dangers hidden beneath pleasant guises. But on that Midsummer's Day, the one that marked at the same time the end of one phase of her life and the beginning of another, she was about to change her views.

It was a very hot Midsummer's Day, much hotter than usual for Oxford, even at that time of year. The heat seemed stifling that day, and poor Pan, his fur coat retaining all the heat that the glaring sun provided it, was forced to retire to the shade and lie down so as not to generate any more heat in his body. After about five minutes spent on the bench, trying to envision Will sitting in the same spot in his world and thinking of Lyra sitting on the same spot in hers, a particularly bright flash of sunshine seared across her vision, and she closed her eyes to block it out. A bright pattern continued to flash across her closed eyelids, as if the sun's light was so powerful that even cutting off her vision didn't stop it completely. For some reason the spots flaring across her eyes and the heat inspired a dreamy feeling in Lyra, and she found her mind drifting back to the day she and Will found out that they would have to leave the blessing they had found.

"I'll be looking for you, Will, every moment, every single moment. And when we do find each other again, we'll cling together so tight that nothing and no one'll ever tear us apart. Every atom of me and every atom of you...we'll live in birds and dragonflies and pine trees and in clouds and in those little specks of light you see floating in sunbeams...And when they use our atoms to make new lives, they won't just be able to take one, they'll have to take two, one of me and one of you..."

When Lyra opened her eyes again, tears rolled unbidden down her cheeks. She hated Xaphania with all of her heart, every single inch of her and her angelic wisdom and her what's best for the worlds shit. She hung on to that memory with everything she had, willing it to play again, willing it to go on so, if just in daydreams, she would be with Will again.

"Yes—as long as I live, I'll come back. Wherever I am in the world, I'll come back here—"

"On Midsummer Day at midday. As long as I live. As long as I live…"

"And if we—later on—if we meet someone that we like, and if we marry them, then we must be good to them, and not make comparisons all the time and wish we were married to each other instead...But just keep up this coming here once a year, just for an hour, just to be together..."

Her mind for some reason jumped ahead to that day three weeks after she parted with Will when she had met with Dame Hannah for the first time. She and Pan had been sitting on the bench that night, reminiscing about her time spent with Will, and she'd had a profound revelation.

"That's why we needed our full life, Pan. We would have gone with Will and Kirjava, wouldn't we?"


"Yes. Of course! And they would have come with us. But—"

"But then we wouldn't have been able to build it. No one could if they put themselves first. We have to be all those difficult things like cheerful and kind and curious and patient, and we've got to study and think and work hard, all of us, in all our different worlds, and then we'll build—"

The bells had been chiming that night too. She couldn't completely focus, as she was drifting off to sleep, and so was Pan beside her.

"And then what? Build what?"

"The Republic of Heaven."

It was as if a bolt of lightning had split her breast. She had been sulking so stubbornly the whole time that she had almost forgotten what was the most important thing. That angel that she had seen on the Clouded Mountain—that had been God, or at least the angel that called himself God. One phase of Heaven's existence was over, and it was up to her—and Will—and everyone, everyone in their own worlds—to begin the next. The Republic of Heaven would have to be built in her own world, because for her there was no other.

And then she snapped open her eyes. Pan had risen with a start next to her. What she had first realized that night was now coming back to her full force, stronger for the time that she had forsaken it. She and Will were only two parts of the Republic of Heaven; they weren't any more or any less important than any other citizen. If they both chose to spend the rest of their lives pining away for each other, they would be essentially condemning the Republic to death. They had to pass on the word, spread knowledge and understanding to as many people as possible, and only after they had taught as many people as possible that they were responsible for their own destinies would they have done their duty.

Above her somewhere the clocks chimed again, one resonating note that stayed with her long after the vibration produced by the bells ceased. Somewhat surprised that it was already so late, she stood to rise from the bench when she was assaulted by one final vision.

It was deceivingly simple, yet it held an ocean of meaning for Lyra. William Parry was sitting on the bench in his own world, his hand stroking Kirjava's fur, and she knew that he saw her too, and that he was proud of her for what she had realized.

He smiled at her, a smile so full of love and pride that she thought she would burst. And then he disappeared, faded into that part of her subconscious where all memories lay in wait for when they next would be summoned.

Lyra began her trek back to Dame Hannah's. Tomorrow she would begin her studies of the alethiometer with renewed zest. She might even entertain Billy Costa's idea of taking her for a ride on his narrowboat.

And she now knew what she must do.

-KaiserMonkey, Monday, June 12, 2006