Disclaimer: I do not own the His Dark Materials series or any correlating elements.
Bonjour, tout le monde! Here's a little section of the story. I'm currently writing the part after this, so I will try and have that up sooner than later. I thought it'd be interesting to try out the POV of someone other than Mrs. Coulter, though for only a short while. :) Enjoy!
o4.
Wondrous Weasel
Five burly men slammed into him, pinning him to the ground. "Don't move. You are under arrest."
Wincing, Lord Asriel glanced to his side to see the officers snatch his traveling sack and rummage through its contents. Stelmaria growled and made an attempt to grab it, but she was silenced by a stout Irish Setter daemon. She dug her teeth into Stelmaria's scruff, and the snow leopard let out a menacing snarl as she fumbled to her belly. As much as it killed her to admit it, she had been overpowered, and she and Lord Asriel felt that burning sense of shame and acceptance as the men surrounded them and motioned for them to rise.
Glancing from man-to-man and dog-to-dog, Lord Asriel knew that he was trapped. But as he slowly straightened out and rose to his feet, his hands high in the air, he knew that it wasn't over. As commendable as they were, these men were merely peons in the greater scheme of the Magisterial Armed Force. They all looked barely twenty years of age, and as the leading officer pointed his gun at him, Lord Asriel noticed the slightest bit of a tremor in the shining silver.
"Gentlemen," Lord Asriel greeted, dipping his head in their general direction. "I must congratulate you on an attack well-executed. But may I inquire as to why you are here?"
"We received the alarm, sir," stammered the smallest officer, his eyes growing round. "Someone pulled it, and Mrs. Coulter told us to come get you. You are under arrest."
"But for what, may I ask?"
This had them. The men's eyes swiveled to each other's, and Lord Asriel suppressed a laugh as the head officer noticeably swallowed a lump in his throat. Stelmaria purred, and the two exchanged a knowing glance. If anything was to save them, it would be their wits.
In all of their forty-four years of life, they've never been unable to weasel out of an unfavorable situation. At the ripe age of five, Lord Asriel had convinced his mother that his father had taken the large sum of money hidden in the wardrobe and that his new astrology kit had been a gift from his school for being so bright. Ten years later at fifteen, he had persuaded Jordan College to admit him while still in secondary school, and after a few years of acing exams and winning over the scholars, he had successfully received all of his payments back with the promise to pursue research in the college's name.
Even as he traveled and explored the Western and Northern worlds, nothing had ever been able to stand in his way. He had a bigger build, though he wasn't thick or overweight. He was a bit thin with his ragged furs and under-nourished arctic diet, but nonetheless, Lord Asriel knew what kind of impression he left on people.
But also, perhaps more importantly, he recognized the influence of his only worthy competitor. With her soft, caressing touches, brilliant, mesmerizing eyes, sweet, musical voice, and gentle, powerful aura, Marisa Coulter had captivated these men into defending her with their lives.
And as Lord Asriel stood there amongst these confused, heart-pounding men, he knew that his only chance would be to unravel Marisa's tie and replace it with his own, though he admitted that it might prove to be impossible.