Disclaimer: I do not own the His Dark Materials series.
A/N: Hi, everyone! I am SO sorry for the delay on this chapter (number 30! Wow!). I'm in my final year of college and am currently applying to several different graduate schools, so my life is kind of awful right now. However, I found the time to get this story going again, and I will have more time to work on it around mid-December when finals are done and grad school apps are in. It's kind of funny because I started writing this story as a college freshman, and here I am still working on it in my senior year. Crazy!
Thanks SO much for the support over the years and over the chapters. This story has always been near and dear to my heart, just like the Mrs. Coulter – Lyra dynamic, and I really am glad that you all enjoy the dynamic as well and that you like the story. I know this story has gone through some crazy shifts and turns, but I'm still trying to stay true to the characters, and I hope you all feel that I have.
Well, here is chapter number 30, and there will be more to come in due time! Please let me know what you think, and for all the Americans out there, have a Happy Thanksgiving!
Luxurious Lies
30.
Falling Forward
In the faint glow of the naptha lighting, Lord Asriel ran his fingers over the silver surface of his pistol, closely examining the edges. It was a bit scruffy since its last usage, and even though Lord Asriel took care to keep it polished and preserved, the feat still deemed to be impossible. That was the thing about expensive things – the nicer they are, the harder they are to maintain. Luxury always seems to have a price.
Stelmaria, meanwhile, stood stoutly at his side with her ears pricked. Her tail twitched slightly out of old habit. It was her one quirk, and Lord Asriel knew without having to be told that she was worried. Very worried.
"Relax," he muttered to her, taking out his handkerchief and wiping off a stray smudge. "No one's going to find us. We're safe for the moment."
"You can't always be so sure." The snow leopard's voice was tight, and Lord Asriel could feel waves of intense feeling spread through her body. "I don't know what to be sure of anymore."
She was right, he knew, and with that Lord Asriel sighed. He, Mrs. Coulter, and Lyra had been running from Serafina and the Gyptians for a week now, and he felt utterly at a loss. He checked over his shoulder at every turn and glared suspiciously at every shadow; everything was happening far too quick yet far too slow for him, and he knew that it would only get worse. Rejecting a witch and betraying her was one of the worst crimes a man could commit, and if he were to be completely honest with himself, Lord Asriel didn't see the entire thing ending very well for him. Indeed, he feared that this very well could be the end of him.
"Asriel?" Lord Asriel turned to see Mrs. Coulter enter the room, wearing a suave, silk nightgown covered by a shimmering shawl. The golden monkey trailed in her wake, his beady eyes trained intently on Stelmaria, and Lord Asriel felt a strange sort of swirling disturb his stomach. It felt rather juvenile, like how he had felt around women as a teenager, but for some reason, he couldn't suppress the feeling.
Her sparkling blue eyes flicked quickly to the gun, and the golden money let out a faint growl. Clearing his throat, Lord Asriel shoved it under his jacket and stuffed his handkerchief back in his pocket, wondering why his heart was racing so fast.
"Asriel, what are you –"
"Don't worry about it, Marisa." Though he turned his head away from her, he could still feel the intensity of her gaze. It made him shudder slightly. "I'm just taking certain precautions."
"You know that you can trust me, Asriel, don't you?" He heard her take a few steps closer, but he didn't move. Stelmaria mirrored his stance and echoed his thoughts, and he focused instead on the list of goals he had to accomplish for the dawning day.
If Mrs. Coulter felt any indignation over his behavior, she didn't show it. Instead, she gave him one last, searching look before turning around and heading back to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.
"You have to stop playing these games," Stelmaria murmured, tilting her head up to stare directly into Lord Asriel's eyes. "I know that you love her, Asriel. I understand that. But what you also have to understand that what we're doing is greater than her and greater than all of us. We're working to save the lives of innocent children, and that needs to be the priority."
Yet again, she was right. She was always right. But as Lord Asriel threw on his coat and put on his hat, he couldn't stop his thoughts from wandering back to the previous week's hotel encounter. It had felt so good and so right to hold Mrs. Coulter in his arms again, and as Lord Asriel exited the hotel and made his way to the town's square, he realized that moments like those were the ones that he wanted the most in life, despite the risks and the complications.
In the end, though he knew what he had to do, he realized that all he truly wanted was his family.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
"Mrs. Coulter?"
"Yes, darling?"
"Can I go play with them kids over there?"
"No. Absolutely not."
The first rays of morning sunshine sparkled on the golden rims of Mrs. Coulter's glasses, scattering the light around it. The golden monkey yawned as Mrs. Coulter bent down to stroke his head, and Lyra continued to stare at her mother, her eyes narrowed. Mrs. Coulter didn't even look at her.
"But… You're sitting there writing letters, and Uncle Asriel got to go shopping. Why can't I do something?"
"Because it's not safe, Lyra." Not safe? Was anything Lyra ever did considered safe?
"I'll be just right over there! You can still see me!"
"No. Don't make me say it again."
"But why?"
"Because I said so." Mrs. Coulter's voice was firm, and from the way her golden monkey daemon stared coldly at her, Lyra knew that she wouldn't be able to argue with her anymore. Again, Mrs. Coulter didn't even bother to look at her, so clearly she didn't even care that Lyra was bored and had nothing to do.
As much as Lyra loved Mrs. Coulter, she also hated her. That was a strong word, Lyra knew, but she didn't know what else really expressed how she felt. Mrs. Coulter was always babying Lyra and fussing over every single move she made, but while doing so, she failed to recognize that Lyra was a kid and needed to play with other kids. That's simply the natural rule of childhood! Surely it's something Mrs. Coulter could understand! Lyra knew that their situation was unusual and that everyone had to be extra careful, but she didn't feel that she should be treated like a caged pet.
Her lip twitched up in a snarl, Lyra stomped her foot and raged away from Mrs. Coulter, Pan following in her wake as a growling panther. Mrs. Coulter didn't follow her and lecture her about her poor manners (for once), and Lyra was glad. She didn't want anything to do with her at the moment.
She never lets us do anything fun, Pan! They locked themselves in the bathroom and Lyra sat on the toilet seat, her face flushed. It's been three days since we've even been outside!
I know, Lyra. Pan sat down at her feet and nudged her leg. That's why I think we need to go ahead and sneak out anyway. This is child abuse!
Child abuse. The thought was ironic, really, when Lyra thought about it. Hundreds of children had their daemons cut away for experimental research, yet here Lyra was – safe – and complaining about not being able to play with other kids. In a lot of ways, Lyra should feel grateful, but at the same time, she just couldn't help but feel trapped and contained.
"Let's do it," she said, jumping up and reaching for the door knob. "We'll tell her we're going to get lunch in the lobby or something. C'mon."
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
"Marisa, you've been doing this for hours." The golden monkey rolled his eyes as Mrs. Coulter crumbled up yet another piece of paper and threw it into the trash, which was starting to overflow.
"I'm perfectly aware of that, thank you," she snapped, grabbing another piece of paper. "If you hadn't noticed, though, I'm only trying to write what may be the most important letter of our lives to the very people who want us dead."
Even though Lord Asriel had said it would be easy, it really wasn't. The Magisterium, as Mrs. Coulter knew, was a very severe, unforgiving place. Once you crossed them, you were done – there were no second chances. Everyone knew this coming into the operations, but what Mrs. Coulter had to do was find a way to somehow regain their trust.
Trust itself was a concept Mrs. Coulter found herself understanding less and less. What even is trust, she asked herself? Knowing that someone is there for you, through thick and through thin? Knowing that someone cares about and has your best interests at heart? Knowing that you're able to depend on someone during great times of need?
"You're completely overthinking it." Jumping up onto Mrs. Coulter's shoulder, the golden monkey gave her ear a quick nip. "Stop acting like a philosopher and start acting like the Magisterium. If you were them and you received a letter from us, what would you want it to say?"
What would Mrs. Coulter want it to say? Putting her pen down, she stared out the window and watched the gently falling snow. If someone betrayed her and ran off with her greatest enemy, what would make the occasion acceptable? What would be enough to excuse any of their actions?
Suddenly, it occurred to her. How could she not have seen it? Grabbing another piece of paper and picking up her pen, Mrs. Coulter started scribbling frantically, hope blazing in her eyes.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Pan flew into the air as a snowy white owl and circled around the square, surveying everyone. Kids were bustling about playing Gobblers and Orphans, but before Lyra could run over to join them, someone tapped her on the shoulder.
"Lyra."
Turning around, Lyra saw long black hair, olive green eyes, and a thin patch of cloud pine. "You need to come with me, my child."