Disclaimer: I do not own the His Dark Material series or any correlating elements.

(Original) A/N: Bonjour, everyone. Here's the start of a story about a different and perhaps more aware Mrs. Coulter. Little things could have changed the plot entirely, and here's a look into one of those potential changes.

NOTE: Revised 6/9/17. Trying to make sure it reads well and stays consistent with my other chapters! This is a multi-chapter story centering on the relationship between Lyra and Mrs. Coulter. New adventures and situations present themselves along the way, and it's truly a quest both across the North and inside Mrs. Coulter's heart as she fights over what she really wants and what she has to do to get it.

I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

o1.

Prevailing Pretenses

Watching the girl play with her chapped hands while her ermine daemon nibbled nervously on her left ear, Mrs. Coulter wondered how she had ever doubted the strength of her daughter.

On that fateful day back in Oxford, Mrs. Coulter had made the ultimate decision due to even more doubt. She'd spent her life ignoring and pretending to forget about her daughter, but something – some strange, foreign sensation – had caused her to reconsider this absence as she started her work on the Oblation Board. With each child snatched, there came an internal consequence, a resounding doubt.

You have a daughter, she would tell herself, freezing as the children pressed against the soft comfort of her furs. You are a mother.

But sitting there on the chair across from the said daughter, Mrs. Coulter didn't feel any better about herself. On the contrary, she wondered what she was doing by taking all of these extremes to help her, and she wondered if the child even realized what was being done for her. Children, it seemed, never appreciate or understand anything. They take what they please, and they give nothing in return; they live for themselves, and they die for no one.

Lyra, of course, was no different. She had spited Mrs. Coulter by disobeying and abandoning her, and she had stirred a mountain of trouble by possessing that dreadful alethiometer. Even now as Mrs. Coulter rescued her from the brink of despair, Lyra wouldn't even look at her. Had she been raised with no manners or dignity? Was she completely and utterly hopeless?

But, she's your daughter…

"Lyra, dear, will you please look up at me?" Mrs. Coulter gazed at the girl as her blue eyes – the very same shade as her own – glared fiercely up at her. "I know you've just been through a terrible ordeal, darling." She paused just then, biting her lip. "But it won't ever happen to you, and I promise that you'll always be safe with me. Please don't ever worry, my love."

It was the only thing she knew how to do, really – charm and comfort a child in order to get what she wanted. Was that what Mrs. Coulter had become? Is that all she was good for?

As she reached forward to place a hand on Lyra's head and then pull her into an embrace, it happened.

"You're my mother, en't you."

Mrs. Coulter froze mid-hug, and the hair on the golden monkey's pelt stood up.

For a moment, no one said anything. No one moved. This child, Mrs. Coulter's own child, was staring up at her as if she had never been more disgusted. Her eyes were hard and her face was firm. Her daemon was growling, now a pole cat that appeared ready to pounce.

Was that it, then? Was that how it was finally going to happen?

"How did you find out?" she finally whispered.

"The Gyptians," Lyra murmured, lowering her gaze. "They told me all about you and Lord Asriel and the Church. And they also said how you didn't want nothing to do with me."

The slightest bit of a tremor surfaced in Lyra's voice as she finished. It was small, but it was there, building up like residue. And her stance weakened.

As Mrs. Coulter stared at her, noting the hesitation and doubt that flickered through the girl's eyes, she felt something. Looking at her daughter, at how scared yet brave she was, Mrs. Coulter couldn't believe what she was feeling. In a way, she almost felt bad for her. She must feel so lonely and afraid, yet there she was – blatantly embracing the very thing she was the most upset about. Mrs. Coulter was aware that Lyra had grown up in the ways of the wild and as an unruly, foul-mouthed tomboy, but nothing, not even independence and survival with the filthy Gyptians in the North, could prepare a child for an emotional blow such as this.

And as Mrs. Coulter sat there, staring at the revelation of her maternal role, she felt something that almost resembled guilt.

You fool! The golden monkey thought to her, his tail thrashing wildly. You soft-hearted fool!

Brushing him aside, Mrs. Coulter leaned forward and looked directly into Lyra's eyes.

"So where does this leave us?" she asked. The tip of Pan's tail twitched, and Lyra frowned ever so slightly. "You've heard the story, but what do we do about it? How do we move forward?"

Returning her mother's stare, Lyra's mouth twisted. "I dunno." Her voice was almost inaudible. Pan changed into a smaller cat, and Lyra's eyes went from defiant to unsure.

And of course, with the passing of a second, Mrs. Coulter knew what she had to do. Her own eyes softened and she slowly bent toward Lyra, touching the edge of her hand. Surprisingly, she didn't flinch.

"Darling, I know how hard this must be for you." With the return of Lyra's glare, Mrs. Coulter shook her head, smiling sadly. "No, no. I really do. I've dealt with strange, sudden feelings for the past twelve years of my life. And for the past three months of my life, I've faced the strongest of them all."

Lyra's head tilted to the side, and a look of profound fascination followed. The golden money growled, and Mrs. Coulter shook his feelings off once more before smiling again, gently caressing her daughter's hand. "I know it'll be hard for you believe, but I've never stopped thinking about you, Lyra."

"You never came to see me," the girl interjected, her eyes now wide. "I was there in the college all by myself, and you never even cared."

"But I did, my love. I contemplated visiting you nearly every day for the first year of your life. But your father had arranged it so that you were safe and happy, and he had also arranged it so that I wouldn't be permitted to see you."

"You could've came if you really wanted to." Lyra's eyes hardened again. "Lord Asriel still came to see me. It was only you that was gone."

Her hand still drawing soft lines on the top of Lyra's, Mrs. Coulter didn't look up at her. "I know I was."

"All you wanted to do was be with them Magisterium people." Lyra's voice grew stronger now, and Mrs. Coulter sensed her sitting up straighter. "You wanted to be important, and you wanted to go North. Lord Asriel did too, but he still came to see me. And you could've done it, too."

"But would I have visited you when you were under the impression that I was dead?" Mrs. Coulter's face was a mirror of her daughter's as she lifted her head up. "You have to understand the delicacies of things, Lyra. Your father had placed me in a rather unpleasant predicament. I had no choice."

"Everyone's got a choice," Lyra grunted, but she looked down at the ground.

Didn't they all have a choice? The Magisterium would say one thing, Mrs. Coulter knew, but perhaps Lyra was onto something. Again with the doubt, perhaps Mrs. Coulter could have made some different choices. Perhaps things could have been different.

"To a certain extent," Mrs. Coulter continued, watching Lyra. The girl's shoulders had slumped down, and she was still staring fixedly at the floor. "Things happen, and we must live with the consequences." Mrs. Coulter's stomach gave an uncomfortable jolt, and she ignored the rays of loathing she received from the golden monkey. "But the only important matter at hand, Lyra, is that I'm here now."

At this, Lyra's head snapped up.

"I've done a lot of bad things, but there's at least one thing I can change." Very carefully, Mrs. Coulter bent forward again to brush away a stray strand of Lyra's dark golden hair. "I tried to save you once, and I've luckily just saved you again. There's no denying that you are mine, and there's no denying that I still want you to be with me."

Mrs. Coulter's eyes stared back into its smaller counterparts, and the girl before her tilted her head again, looking as if she were lost in deep thought.

What are you doing? thought the monkey with a hiss. He climbed on the back of Mrs. Coulter's chair, and he leered over at Pan. Do you really think this can work? Do you really think she'll ever listen to us?

Mrs. Coulter didn't know, but for some reason, she didn't care.

It was obvious that Lyra was in no position to make any choices, but nonetheless, Mrs. Coulter had grudgingly learned from her mistakes. Though the child is hers and belongs to her in every right, she must think that she has a choice; she must choose to consider all options and alternatives. Mrs. Coulter was taking her either way, but in this slight moment of time, she had used her charms of manipulation to their fullest potential.

She had scared the girl away once, but with a second, redemptive opportunity, she was not to do so again. She was to win her over and claim her child, and she was to finally receive the natural, automatic obedience and reverence that she deserved from this particular child. She was to actually be the girl's mother.

Frowning slightly, Lyra opened her mouth to speak.

But at that moment, the door burst open, and there stood a man with thick, ragged furs and a sleek, powerful snow leopard.