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

A/N: Hi, all! I'm so sorry for the delay, but I'd had this started and wanted to share what I have. I'm still working on how Part Two will shape up, but here is the first little installment. Thanks for reading and sticking with this story, if you've made it this far. It has been QUITE the journey... I hope to update more regularly now that the holidays are finished. I just love these characters too much to ever stop, I feel like :)

Luxurious Lies

PART TWO: After the North

45.

Brisk Beginnings

The small town of Lavia was charming.

Mrs. Coulter was sitting on a bench near the water, gazing out at the ocean several miles away. The air was light and breezy and the summer sun mild. Even the golden monkey sat back and let the wind graze through his silky fur, eyes closed in pure relaxation. The locals say the weather never truly warms in Lavia, although the snow does melt and the scene isn't quite as frigid as further North in Finland. Lavia was an in-between town, a fly-over place. There were but a few hundred inhabitants total with some coming and some going for work, for schooling, for research.

It was thus the perfect location for the Magisterium's next round of experiments and the perfect imprisonment for Mrs. Coulter after all that she'd done to completely abandon her project and her duties.

"Mrs. Clemsen?" A little boy came up to her, his lower lip trembling and his eyes widening.

She smiled down at him as her eyes found their way to the torn patch on his knee. Little beads of blood were starting to pool. "Oh, goodness me. What happened?"

"Trevor pushed me," he began, color flushing back into his face as he explained a playful rouse gone terribly wrong. "And now it hurts."

The golden monkey moved a paw to stroke the head of the boy's fox daemon, and Mrs. Coulter reached out to gently brush the boy's cheek. "You're such a tough boy, though, aren't you, Henry? How about you go back and play while I have a talk with Trevor. Go on now."

And so it went, as it had the past several months. Mrs. Coulter taught a group of young children at the school. They were all between the ages of 6 and 8. She taught them how to count, how to read, how to conduct small science experiments. She read to them, sang to them, wiped their running noses, hugged them goodbye in the afternoon and then waved hello when they saw each other the next morning. They were so trusting, so loving, so open. Especially in a small town like this, with probably no history of there ever being anything run afoul.

That guilt came back every so often, piercing through her. The golden monkey had grown accustomed to it even though he didn't agree with it. Enough of this, he'd tell her. You tried to put this in the past, but we have more to do. And they won't let us be done with them yet. You know that.

It's not fair, she'd counter. I don't want this anymore.

She really didn't. There'd been a time where Mrs. Coulter saw her work at the Magisterium as her life's calling. As a woman trained in experimental theology, Mrs. Coulter had an incredible amount of knowledge to offer yet limited means to do so. Women weren't respected in the academy. They weren't taken seriously as researchers and as scientists. They were seldom more than someone's wife, someone's mother. Someone's plaything. But in the Church, they valued piety and power above all else. If Mrs. Coulter could get them that, then they would let her do so, woman or man; adulterer or entirely faithful wife.

They were hypocrites in that way, really, but it'd worked out well enough for her. Until recently, when being with Lyra showed her something all the Church's money, power, intimidation, and resources could never provide to her: an unconditional love for her child.

The golden monkey hissed, and Mrs. Coulter sighed. It didn't matter what she wanted anymore. After Lyra left and Wyatt convinced the Magisterium that Mrs. Coulter wasn't undermining them, things changed. Lyra ran away and Mrs. Coulter didn't even have time to look for her. The Magisterium had sent her away and put her back on track to continue her research, this time even more in secret than before in an unknown town. She had no choice but to continue, for the Magisterium would be entirely unforgiving in future indiscretions.

She was trapped, and everyone knew it.

"It's time to go back inside, children," she called out to them, clapping her hands and leading the way back to the small building where they held lessons every day. The children followed, lined up one-by-one. They smiled at her as she approached them, counting heads to make sure they were all there. Their daemons rushed forward to play with the golden monkey, chasing his tail and nipping at his dexterous little fingers.

Time for more lessons, more interaction, more tests. More lies. Nothing but luxurious little lies.

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

Lyra smiled as a Norwegian Scholar corrected her essay and told her she'd very scarcely and only passably captured the essence of Dust. She turned to Pan, who was currently in his favorite shape of an ermine, and shot him a thumbs up. Her daemon let out an excited squeak and Lyra kicked her legs with delight as the Scholar rambled on about how far she had to go and how she needed to focus more on her technique and writing as well as on the content itself.

After their meeting was finished, Lyra headed down to the Great Hall for lunch. She was 13 years old already, which felt incredibly mature and enlightened. Her birthday had come in a flash. Pan hadn't yet settled, but he was close, she could tell, as they had changed incredibly. Six months had passed since she returned to Jordan College. It was both delightful and sad, as she'd returned to the one place she truly felt was home while abandoning her parents and everything they had done for her.

Lord Asriel was easier to think about. Since Lyra had last seen him, he'd made great progress on working to reverse the child separation procedure the Oblation Board had discovered. He also disappeared for periods of time where no one could get in contact with him. The Master said he was just further North than communication was able to sustain, but there were whispers among the Scholars of what he was truly up to. Parallel worlds were mentioned more than once, though only in hushed tones and behind closed doors.

Lyra's father, then, was fine—working and away as usual. It was her mother she had a harder time thinking about.

Lyra had seen a different side of Mrs. Coulter during the time they'd spent together. The woman had taken care of her, after all, and had rescued her from Bolvangar and kept her safe as best as she could ever since. But she was always entangled with the Church. She'd met with them once—bringing Lyra there, even—and returned to them soon after Lyra ran back to Jordan. Her whereabouts at the moment were very hush-hush. Lyra knew that she could always consult the alethiometer, but for some reason, she never did. That was too easy and too tempting. If Mrs. Coulter wanted to see Lyra again, then she could come find her.

That wasn't too much to ask, was it? Isn't that what a mother should do?

Don't worry yourself about that, Pan interrupted her, moving ahead as a white owl. I heard the cooks say they've made Shepherd's pie for lunch today!

Lyra shook off her feelings and followed her daemon into the dining hall, sitting beside one of the old Scholars and politely listening to their conversations of particle metaphysics and tropical atmospheric latency. She'd worry about her mother another day, for later that afternoon she had lessons with the Librarian on reading the alethiometer. That was the one thing she was good at and could look forward to day in and day out. It was her passion, her gift, her calling, and it was something even the Scholars recognized as remarkable.

Later that week, Lyra was called into the Master's study. It was early in the morning and she was ushered inside quickly, secretly. The sun didn't even fill the sky. This had happened exactly one time before, and Lyra felt her stomach knot as she sensed some kind of change stirring in the air. Pan shook, too, perched stolidly on her shoulder.

"Unfortunately, Lyra, I'm sure you know what this means," the Master began, and Lyra nodded.

She was to be sent away again, as it was no longer safe. Lyra had been living on borrowed time at Jordan. She knew that the moment she showed up, getting caught in the hallway after sneaking through the dam. The Magisterium mustn't know she was there and she was to be ready to leave at a moment's notice. That had been the agreement, and Lyra had accepted it willingly, knowing all too well this day would inevitably come.

For the second time, she would leave Jordan behind, though this time heading North again to a location neither she nor the Master knew. "Somewhere safe," he had told her. "Somewhere verified. Somewhere they will never look to find you."

And so Lyra packed her single suitcase and waited in the Entrance Hall, Pan by her side pressed gently against her legs as they waited for the Porter to send them along on their next adventure.

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

In a faraway realm, a shimmering creature was growing impatient.

"This isn't how it was meant to be," it voiced, words scattered in the winds of the sky. "Time is of the essence."

"It must be soon," another voice sounded, out of sight yet incredibly close. "We shall make it so. Or else all will be lost, and time be nothing of any matter."