Disclaimer: I do not own the His Dark Materials Series.

A/N: Hey all! First, SO SORRY for my delay (yet again)—I'm still a busy student, after all these years of writing this story (only difference is now I'm a doctoral student!). In the wake of the HDM HBO premiere and NaNoWriMo, I was inspired to take a look back at this story and come back to it.

This story is very near and dear to my heart, as I started writing the seeds of it when I was a child and had first read the series. I'd always wondered what would happen if Lyra had stayed with Mrs. Coulter, and what other complications would happen if Mrs. Coulter split from the Church sooner, and so on and so forth. And thus, this story was born, back in December 2012.

In some ways, I know this story takes a lot of twists and turns and has a lot going on and is perhaps too much. But, I think a lot of us love and enjoy these characters so much that we don't mind at all and actually appreciate seeing these characters act in new situations. That's how I feel, anyway, and that's what my approach has been writing this story here and there when I have pockets of time and inspiration.

I may end up doing a radical revise on this series one day, as I've started doing at the beginning already a couple years ago. As I grow as a writer and as a professional, I see new ways to connect ideas, elaborate on plot, detail characters, etc. I will keep writing this story, then, whenever I am able and in whatever capacity I am able—adding (short) chapters, revising previous chapters, working on spinoffs/other HDM stories (like Affluent Affairs, my other HDM story).

Thank you for reading (if you are reading), and I'd love to hear your thoughts on this story, the series, these characters—whatever!

Luxurious Lies

41.

No Good at Goodbyes

Today was the day Lyra decided to sneak back to Jordan College—much to Mrs. Coulter's cold surprise and dismay.

Lyra and Pan had planned this trip for weeks. They were staying with Mrs. Coulter and her associate Wyatt at the nearby Wordsworth College, which was located to the northwest of Jordan at the very edge of the Oxford Lyra knew and missed so very much. Neither Lyra nor Mrs. Coulter were allowed to leave Wyatt's quarters, Lyra had been told. They arrived at Wordsworth after escaping the frigid realms of the North, where the Magisterium was frantically searching for Lyra (the girl with the alethiometer, as was rumored) and Mrs. Coulter, the head of the Oblation Board gone rogue with said girl. They were essentially there to hide, then, from the Magisterium, from Serafina Pekkala, and from everyone out there who was out to get them and question them about how they abandoned everyone in the North.

Lyra wasn't supposed to leave, but at the same time, part of her deep down just knew that she had to. She'd consulted the alethiometer about it, actually, which solidified her gut feelings on the matter. It was a complicated question and it took Lyra almost their entire time traveling back to Brytain to form and pose. The answer itself was equally as complicated, finalizing itself just that very morning after days of tinkering and ticking about.

The message, however, was quite clear: go back to Jordan. Mrs. Coulter's fight is not Lyra's fight. Things will sort themselves out. Tell no one.

What a strange reading. For the past several months, Lyra and Mrs. Coulter's lives had been intertwined at the core. What Mrs. Coulter did, Lyra did. Mrs. Coulter had helped her escape from the Magisterium time and time again, and now from the very north itself. It all felt so natural and so right, for Mrs. Coulter had shown a true change of heart after almost seeing Lyra ripped apart from Pan on that evil, wicked table in that cursed, awful place. The alethiometer confirmed this change, and so Lyra went with it, until the moment she didn't have to anymore.

They'd helped all the Gyptian children escape from Bolvangar. Lyra had seen them go off on the boats with Farder Coram and the rest of the gang. She knew they were safe. She knew that things could go back to normal, if only she could see them and speak to the Master at Jordan.

And now she finally had her chance.

Lyra had to do this in secret, though. Even as she knew it were the right thing for her to do, she also felt a fresh stab of guilt tear at her. She and Pan snuck out very early in the morning, when Mrs. Coulter was still fast asleep in their shared bed. Even the golden monkey was out cold, his normally invasive and wandering eyes shut tight as he curled against Mrs. Coulter's breast, his body falling and rising in sync with her breathing.

Lyra stared at Mrs. Coulter a long while before finally moving forward, gripping her little handbag—the same one Mrs. Coulter had admonished on that fateful day of the cocktail party—and holding her winter furs close to her chest. This didn't have to be goodbye forever, she told herself, but somehow, it still felt like it.

"Goodbye, Mother," she whispered softly. She knew Mrs. Coulter couldn't hear her, and she knew that she couldn't risk getting closer to touch her hair or hold her hand. All she could do was stare at her, taking in the soft curve of her body and the carefully-coiled curls of her hair. She'd spent every single day of the past several months with her, and now all of a sudden Lyra felt… Empty, almost. Like something was missing.

Pan the ermine chittered impatiently against her leg, and with that Lyra was off, closing the door noiselessly behind her and moving ahead like she knew had to be done.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Lord Asriel grunted as his body thrust against the steel door of Bolvangar, the lock almost coming undone. It was late—well past 2 o'clock in the morning. It didn't matter much anyway, though. The place was abandoned after Marisa and Lyra escaped, the witches revolted, the Magisterium struck, and everything spun out of control.

He couldn't believe it sometimes. So much had happened. One minute he was up to Svalvard with a swelling pocket full of money to continue his research on Dust, then the next he was chasing after Lyra at Bolvangar, then over to Trollesund, and at the doorstep of the Magisterium itself. His life had taken a complete 180 and he was nowhere near where he thought he'd be when he first started this journey half a year ago.

The Coulter woman. Lord Asriel felt Stelmaria's growl before he could hear it, still pounding away at the heavy door. Stelmaria pushed her shoulders against it, too, her weight doubling their impact. She had a fair point. Marisa was the wrench in all of his plans, the dark horse to pull up and shift gears completely. If she hadn't dragged Lyra into all of this, things would be different. Lord Asriel wouldn't have had to stop what he was doing. He could have made his discoveries at record pace. Perhaps he'd be out of this world by now…

Would that have helped things, though? Lord Asriel wasn't a stupid man. He was quite self-aware and knew that his own selfish needs and desires sometimes blinded him of what was happening around him. Or at least prevented him from caring. He'd known about the Gyptian children disappearing in Oxford before he left. He'd heard grumblings of the Oblation Board long before most others. But it didn't directly benefit his research to get involved; it didn't directly benefit everything he had been so carefully working toward his entire forty years of life. So he didn't bother.

Yet, perhaps that wasn't a good thing. Panting now, Lord Asriel gave one more shove before the doorway gave in, cracking open enough for him to slip a furred hand in and yank it open. Stelmaria swatted at it with her paw and nosed her way inside, crouching low and stealthing forward to be sure they were alone. He followed her inside and shut the door behind them, leaning against it for a moment.

For as much as he criticized the church, Lord Asriel himself was no saint. He'd taken advantage of people to get what he wanted. He'd eliminated threats that stood in his way. He'd liked and cheated and manipulated and postured. He did it all without a second glance or any regret, all for the sake of what he believed in and what he held to be just and true.

It's not the same thing and you know that.

Stelmaria was right, Lord Asriel supposed, moving to the inside parlor and taking a seat on a wooden chair, tugging off his boots. Ice shards crashed to the floor and Stelmaria shifted her paws to get out of the way. He couldn't compare himself to them, even if he too wasn't completely innocent. But sometimes, he wondered what he was really doing with this line of work, and who, exactly, he was helping….as well as hurting.

And that, at least, was a promising start.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was just as bad as Lyra had feared, although she wasn't around to experience it.

That morning, Mrs. Coulter woke up in a panic, with Lyra gone and no note to indicate where she had gone or where she would be. Wyatt didn't know where she was, either. They searched the entire wing of the college and found no trace of her. She wasn't hanging from a tree in the courtyard or hiding behind a grandfather clock in the parlor, hoping for Mrs. Coulter or Wyatt to walk by and frighten. She wasn't anywhere. Mrs. Coulter could feel it as well as see it.

She's gone, Mrs. Coulter thought, feeling her breathing start to pick up. She reached out for the golden monkey, who rushed over to her and clutched her hand. This time she's really and truly gone.

We'll find her, he tried to assure her, but as the other part of his soul, Mrs. Coulter could feel the doubt nestled behind his thoughts. She could also feel the annoyance, for she knew well by now that he didn't share her devotion to her child and the sacrifices she had made to keep her safe and out of harm's way.

This really might be it, she realized, attempting to calm her breaths and compose her face to go see Wyatt and enact the next part of her plan, which had to continue—now more than ever. And I didn't even get to say goodbye.