Provenance

A/N: His Dark Materials is one of my fav. book series' and in it, Mrs. Coulter and Lord Asriel always really interested me. I was slightly disappointed when the third book did not give them as much page-time as I might have liked, but I understand it was Lyra's story. Still, both characters were very intriguing. Here, I have tried to recreate my own version of how the two characters met, and ultimately conceived Lyra. Thank you for reading!

Amongst the tinkering of glass and the bursts of short, haughty laughter, she felt exhilarated. When one of the servants came by, offering a tray of Tokay, she took one of the lean flutes and held it in front of her loosely without a second glance to the man or his dog dæmon.

"I must say, Mrs. Coulter, you look ravishing tonight," said the elderly gentleman in front of her. If her memory served her correctly, his name was Carlo Boreal, and she knew he was a figure of importance in her husband's line of work. The woman beside him nodded lethargically in agreement as she took a long swig of wine.

"My lord, you are too kind," she said, watching him through her eyelashes unassumingly. It was not difficult at all to do so, even under the man's steady gaze. "But please, enough with the formalities. You know my name."

"I would ask you to dance, my dear, but it seems that your husband approaches," said Boreal, his gaze rising above her shoulder.

When the man in question reached Marisa's side, she wrapped her arm around his waist, bringing them together in a pretty arrangement that made the guests whisper excitedly. She heard people murmuring about what a handsome couple they were, and this made her limbs tingle with elation.

"Darling," she said, planting a chaste kiss upon his cheek. "The Lady Delphine was just looking for you."

Edward Coulter offered his hand to the stout woman. He was a slim man, and his neatly parted hair and clean demeanor made him look quite fitting for the role of politician. The quiet brown owl dæmon at his shoulder watched them all with a knowing eye.

"Now, Edward, how does it feel? To be part of the King's counsel, and not yet forty, at that!" Delphine said eagerly.

"Amazing," Edward said simply as he pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "And I'm sure that I will learn much from this experience."

Delphine mimicked her nod from earlier. A sign of approval. Realizing that it was her turn to play the doting wife, Marisa looked to the nearest servant and took a spoon from his tray delicately between her forefinger and thumb. She cleared her throat and chimed the utensil against her flute of Tokay, invoking a hush from the gathering people around them. She turned around to rise on a small dais where the piano player had stopped his music at once. The golden monkey ran up to her shoulder gracefully and twined its tail around her neck.

"My dear friends," she began, "thank you for celebrating with us a most momentous occasion! My husband and I could not have hoped for more gracious company to share this evening with and I hope you're all enjoying yourself. Before we continue, I would like to say: there are none in this room more proud of Edward than myself. I would like to formally express my congratulations to him, for he worked so very hard to get this."

"Hear, hear!" came a cry from the crowd.

There was a rush of laughter and applause, and the piano player started up a slow romantic piece. When the clamor had died down some time later, Marisa continued her tireless efforts to acquaint herself with all of the guests. She met Edward's colleagues and praised them on the work they had been doing for the monarch, then several scholars and feigned her utmost interest in their fields of study. She had spent hours the night before memorizing names and faces, and so far, it had certainly been paying off.

Soon, a light voice came from behind her, "My dear, I don't suppose you have been to the Royal Arctic Institute." It was Boreal.

The man was rather pestering, trying to goad for her attention, but her pleasant demeanor did not waver. "Unfortunately no, my lord. But as you can imagine, I would like nothing more."

"A colleague of mine, and a fellow member of the establishment, is giving a speech tomorrow on his recent findings to the north. I would like to invite you, if you so wish it."

"It would be an honour."

"He must have arrived late, but it seems like Edward has met him already."

She followed Boreal's gaze to see her husband talking rather animatedly to a tall, brooding fellow. Immediately, as if he knew that she was looking, the man's dark eyes snapped in her direction and he watched her with a strange expression writ on his striking features. She stared back unflinchingly until he was forced to turn his attention back to Edward.

"Actually," Boreal started again, "he just returned from north of Muscovy, not three days ago. He assures me that he has discovered something of interest. You will not be disappointed when you attend."

"I'm sure," she said as she watched as Edward and the man approach.

"Marisa," Edward said, "this is Lord Asriel, eminent explorer and researcher in experimental theology."

She fought the urge to wrinkle her nose at the words 'experimental theology'. But then, her attention was captured by the great, elegant snow leopard that stood beside the man. It was a beautiful, lithe creature, with brilliant striped fur and large amber eyes that seemed to house an infinite wisdom as they watched her.

"My lord," Marisa said courteously. She could feel the golden monkey tense slightly as it watched him and this action was mirrored by the rapidly beating heart in her chest. Edward excused himself and made his way back to Delphine and a group of his friends, but she barely acknowledged his leave.

Asriel bowed ever so slightly. As he stood, she saw the shadow of a beard on his stern face, and fierce dark eyes. He looked spent and worn, undoubtedly from the traveling he had done. But still, his presence commanded her attention like no other had done before. She was not accustomed to that sensation, for she was usually the one with the power in a confrontation.

Boreal interjected, "Asriel, I was just telling her of your presentation tomorrow. I thought she might like to attend."

Asriel nodded slightly, letting his lips quirk up. "I am sure that it will all but bore the good Mrs. Coulter."

"Quite the contrary," she said lightly. "I find it all rather fascinating."

The knowing smile on his lips remained as she said this, and made her uneasy. A servant approached again, making another round with his refreshments, and she was quick to replace her empty glass with a new one. Asriel did not touch it.

"I'm afraid the drink would only dull my senses further," he explained. "You must understand, I'm still weary from my journey, and tomorrow is an important day."

"Yes, of course," Marisa said.

After that, the conversation seemed to be spent, and even she could not stir any interesting talk, as Asriel seemed reluctant to reply to anything she asked. So she dusted off her dress and politely excused herself, deciding to slip out of the spotlight for a moment, and retreated towards the empty front atrium of the house. The walls of their home were bright with rich shades of carmine and gold. Edward was a collector of trinkets and baubles from all over the world and he housed them in elegant mahogany curio cabinets that were in the foyer on display. Though she had seen them a million times before, she slowed her walk to examine them. At the center of the magnificent arrangement of jewelry and strange instruments sat a perfectly spherical stone which glittered spectacularly in the light. It was almost translucent but seemed to hold a maelstrom of swirling mists and clouds within it. Edward had said was a very rare piece from Africa, but the name was escaping her, so she continued onwards.

In the bathroom, she looked at her reflection in the fine mirror above the white porcelain sink, hoping that she still looked as fresh and lively as she did at the start of the evening. Her sharp blue eyes betrayed her, drooping slightly and giving her exhaustion away, so she sighed as she powdered her nose deftly. The golden monkey rubbed his eyes slowly, in an attempt to chase the tiredness away. She wished everyone would go home soon, for she wanted nothing more than to crawl under her covers and fall into a dreamless sleep. But she was quick to retract that thought, and ran her slender fingers through her tresses hastily before leaving the room to find herself once again under the bright lights of the foyer, but this time, she was not alone.

That man from earlier, Asriel, was standing in front of a cabinet, examining the trinkets with a deft eye. He, too, had sought refuge from the crowded party. Ever the hostess, she came beside him, following his gaze to a thin old wooden shaft, with several holes drilled through the sides.

"Edward tells me" she said, as her mind raced to remember details about the item, "it's an ancient Skraeling flute."

Asriel nodded. "I saw something not unlike this when I met with a group of Skraelings to the north. They used it as they healed and meditated. Is that where Mr. Coulter came across it?"

"No. Edward does not enjoy traveling out of the country. He generally looks to others to get his pieces," Marisa said. "But he is an avid collector and I'm sure he would love to hear more of your stories." She took an inconspicuous step towards the room with the other guests, hoping that he would get the hint. He did, but did not react the way she had anticipated.

"Are you trying to pass me off to your husband, my lady?" Asriel said. However, he did not look offended at all. "I'm boring you already, just as I predicted."

"Don't be ridiculous," she said with a trained laugh that echoed through the empty room hollowly. "My lord, I would like nothing better than to show you the rest of Edward's collection. His favourite pieces rest in the conservatory."

He held his hand out in an invitation to let her lead the way. And she did, past the hallway that led to Edward's study, and into the room they were seeking. Asriel needed no more guidance and headed immediately for the nearest glass case, scrutinizing the contents within. She trailed behind him, careful to leave space between them, mostly for the sake of her own agitation. The golden monkey was pacing restlessly around her in circles while the snow leopard had stretched out at Asriel's feet languidly. From her viewpoint a safe distance away, she was surprised to find him deep in thought, which brought a stately look to his features.

Without looking up, he murmured, "I had no idea Edward Coulter was married, until now."

"How could you not?" she asked. Edward's rise in the political ranks had been the focus of media attention over the last few years. Their marriage, only eighteen months ago, had easily been the biggest news of all. Then, suddenly, she knew why. "How long were you traveling?"

Finally, his gaze lifted to meet hers, as his stormy eyes shone with mirth, but a steady frown remained on his face. "Two years. I haven't stepped foot in England for two years."

"Goodness," she breathed, rounding the glass table to place a hand on the cool leather of the deep sofa. "You certainly are dedicated."

"And if I may say so," Asriel drawled, ignoring her comment completely, "I met him twice before my departure, and I never thought him one to end up with someone quite so…" He examined her, just as he had done to the items in the glass cases moments before, as if he was searching for the words. She stood, expressionless. "I just never took him for much of a charmer."

"Well, my lord, you insult me. I'm not the kind of woman to be wooed by superficial allure," she said sharply. But in truth, his admission had not perturbed her at all. She was simply surprised that he had been so straightforward. He was incredibly bold; no one else would have dared to speak to her in that manner. At that moment, she found a curiosity welling within her about the man, and this overcame her initial anxiety.

"My apologies," he said, not really sounding sorry at all, "your loveliness is more than enough to make any man spew such incongruous thoughts."

The empty words had little effect on her, but she smiled amiably all the same. They started on their way back to the foyer once he had finished his inspection of the artifacts. "I suppose I can excuse you this time, my lord."

"Good, but unfortunately," he said with a long heaving sigh, "I think I should retire now. You've a wonderful home."

"So soon?"

"Yes, well," he took her hand in his and grazed his lips across them, and the beginnings of his beard tickled her skin unassumingly, "I hope I can expect your company tomorrow at the Institute." He stood up to his full height, which was, she realized, rather menacing.

He opened the intricate door to the house and stepped outside into the cool night air. When he was past the patio steps, she called out, "If I may suggest one thing, my lord?"

"Yes?" he turned around.

"A cleanly shaven face will do wonders for your speech tomorrow."

He quirked an eyebrow, but that was all. In a minute, he had turned the corner, and was gone.

The golden monkey fidgeted on Marisa's lap, but she stared him down, and he settled quickly. Lord Asriel's presentation had captivated the entire audience in the lecture hall, and the question period had resulted in bursts of voices from all over the auditorium. He answered them exuberantly, walking about the stage, this way and that, and she found her eyes were glued to his tall frame. The snow leopard bounded after him, just as lively. To her amusement, he had not elected to shave, and stood in front of them looking much as he had the night before at her home, but filled with far more fervor. He spoke of the northern lights, and strange observations he had made about their occurrence and patterns. For a moment, just a split second, as he had finished answering the final question of the day, he caught her gaze. She could not help but let a hint of a smile form on her lips. But as quickly as it had begun, he turned away and the moment was gone.

Boreal sat beside her and leaned in closely, murmuring into her ear. "Simply astounding, no?"

She nodded, distractedly, as Asriel was approaching, so they stood to greet him, and Boreal shook his hand with fervor. He turned to her and said, "Thank you for coming."

Mimicking his gesture from the night before, she raised an incredulous brow, but said nothing.

"The scholars of Gabriel College," Asriel told Boreal, "they want to speak to you about your latest publication. They're all rather eager. Wouldn't stop pestering me."

Boreal glanced behind him, excused himself profusely, and scurried off in the direction Asriel had come from.

"Let us get something to drink," Asriel said, brusquely walking past her. He slowed to whisper in her ear. "Quickly now, before he comes back."

"That's rather rude, my lord," Marisa said, but she followed him all the same, unable to stop the smirk from sneaking on her face.

"Please," he drawled as he held the door open for her. "You can't stand him."

She did not even try to deny his accusation. Asriel held his arm out in invitation, and she took it, even though she thought for a moment that it may not have been in the interest of propriety, as there were many people milling about and neither of them had faces that were easily forgotten. But she held on gently as he guided her outside, across the street to one of the outdoor cafés.

"What did you think?" he asked as the waitress set some tea in front of them.

"You're a gifted speaker," she said, taking a demure sip from her cup, taking care not to burn herself with the hot liquid.

"Ah, but a gifted speaker can only do so much with lackluster material." His short blond hair waved in the gentle wind that had picked up speed in the narrow London streets. The sun was creeping higher into the sky as noon approached and he was forced to shade his eyes from its glare.

"Lackluster it was not."

"And the museum, have you taken a look at it?'

"Yes. It was all rather grand. It certainly would have made Edward feel like an amateur hobbyist."

To that, Asriel smiled, and though she knew that the expression was scant seen on his severe visage, it was very becoming of him. "Have you ever wanted to travel to the north, Mrs. Coulter?"

She thought for a moment. Her first notions of the arctic were planes of never ending monochromatic scenery, a blur of dull blues and faded whites, the thought of which spoke little to her. But over the last few years, with her involvement with scholars from the surrounding colleges, her interest had grown slightly. She had not considered actually going north, but the thought held a certain appeal now.

"At times," she decided to say.

"Next time I go," he said, "I will be sure to bring something back for you."

She did not know it then, but she would go to the north. Several times, in fact, and even on occasion, with the man in front of her.

"It would be greatly appreciated, my lord."

"You know, until then," Asriel said, his eyes never leaving her face. "I have some pieces in my own home I think you may find interesting."

She knew very well what his intentions were, but decided to feign ignorance, as she thought the man was intriguing, to say the least, and his vested interest in her had only stirred this curiosity. The direction of the conversation called forth a certain sense of nostalgia from her days before wedlock because back then, she was certainly no stranger to charming men. She propped her head upon her fist and said, "Edward and I would love to get the grand tour."

Asriel leaned in closely, indulging in her petty game. "My lady," he said in a low voice, "I was not intending to say this outright, but I suppose I shall. The invitation was for you alone."

"That," Marisa breathed, "was entirely inappropriate." She was not chastising, taken aback, or offended. She was merely stating the obvious.

"You haven't declined," he pointed out.

She gave a sly smile as she pushed her chair back and stood. She hitched the lapels of her jacket up against the November chill and said, "I had a wonderful time, but I think I must be going. Good day."

He glanced at the snow leopard and sighed, downing his tea in one final gulp.

TBC