While looking in a mirror, Marisa decides she is no longer beautiful. She is still young, her hair is still the deepest black and falls graciously around her shoulders, her eyes still sparkle blue, she is intelligent, she is astute, she still has a sense of humour, she still has charm and grace.

Any statement to the contrary is nonsense. Marisa is perfect. Her husband is so infatuated he would turn a blind eye to any immoral act. Men she walks past stop and stare, looking at her. She need only look at them and they are under her command. Asriel does none of these things. He is not under her command. He does not find her beautiful, or charming or graceful. He finds her amusing, annoying, stupid. Oh, he knows she is clever. But there is a difference between being clever and being smart. His words ring in her head 'you're a stupid woman Marisa. You have a brain in your head but that doesn't mean you use it well.'

Love has never been a part of Marisa's life. For nearly as long as she can remember, love has been a distant word she has only associated with those who have lost something. Loving, nothing, you can lose nothing. Marisa remembers staring at her sister in her cradle, in the middle of the night. Her head turned slightly to the side and her eyes glassed over. Marisa had placed her little hand on her dead sisters head, and went back to bed. She found it surprisingly hard to sleep that night. But she did not cry, the next morning, when her father discovered the body, stone cold and immovable. Nor the next day when her mother was found in the same state. Since that night, Marisa has never lost anyone. She was raised in an orphanage. She might have had friends, but she didn't. She didn't care about anything. If you care about things all you can do is loose them. They say the things that happen when we're young leave the greatest impression on us.

Asriel was different. She didn't care about him at all. He was just there. He was so different to Edward. She went to him as an escape from the mundane life she led with her husband. He was unlike anyone she'd ever met. She had recognized in him something of herself, something currently caged up in society. His grand ideas and insouciance for others inspired her, oiled the cogs in her brain, and made her yearn for something more. She slowly started to realise that power through marriage was not enough for her. She needed to gain her own power, and like Asriel, she needed stimulation. She admired him. She loved him. She only realises it now. Now, when of course, because such is the nature of things, she has lost him.

She stands in the mirror and glares at something she cannot yet see. Her stomach is still flat, beautiful and ladylike but inside it, a baby is growing. Asriel knows, her husband does not. Not yet. She is no longer beautiful. For one fleeting instant, while staring at herself this is what she thinks. The only person she ever loved, truly sought praise and admiration from is the only person from whom she does not receive praise and admiration. He does not think she is beautiful. She is not beautiful.

She shakes her long hair and turns away, forgetting everything. Mrs Coulter exits the room, leaving behind an empty mirror.

The End