One

"The child," Marisa starts, her voice low and deliberately despondent, "he was born still," she tells Edward, eyes lowered to her hands and voice sounding as slow moving as treacle.

It is a lie, of course. One that she expertly plays her part in telling as she looks up at her husband, bright blue eyes dull with fake sadness. There are tear tracks on her pale cheeks and her eyes are rimmed red. She is playing numb, disbelieving. As if the reality that she has lost her child has not set in yet.

But she knows soon, she will have to be the picture model of a distraught childless mother.

The plan had sounded grotesque, even as she'd come up with it. Asriel had thought only as a man, wanting to whisk her away and escape to somewhere abroad before the child was born. Marisa however knew that only carefully crafted lies and deceit would get them away clean and favourably.

Even though she knew the plan, had concocted it herself and convinced Asriel; the reality of it had not been what she expected. As soon as she'd held her child, a squirming squalling little thing, still red in the cheek, she had fallen in love in a way she had never felt. Her arms had tightened around her child and she found she suddenly never wanted to let the babe go. Her Monkey had reached out to touch and for once, she had let him, too wrapped up in her own emotions to push him away.

"Lyra," she had whispered before handing over her child to her father. "Her name is Lyra," she'd insisted and she knew Asriel would not fight her on it. Time had, after all, been of the essence.

Parting from Lyra had been physically painful. The kind of pain she imagined others must feel when separated too far from their daemons. A physical ache had overtaken her and though Asriel had promised that she and the baby would be reunited soon, Marisa almost begged him not to take the child. The Golden Monkey had cried as they'd departed. But it had to be done, the child's resemblance to Asriel too obvious; so she let Asriel spirit away their daughter under the cover of twilight, just as they'd planned.

The tears had come, as real as any, on and off in the hours that followed. She'd slept, but only in small increments and by the time her husband had made his way back to London and their home, she had built up her carefully constructed facade once again. The Golden Monkey had fussed and shrieked until she'd wrapped her hand in his fur, nails digging until she could feel the pain on her own flesh.

It was a small price to pay to keep him in line and to not give away their secrets.

Her eyes met her husband's and she watched as the Monkey moved slowly over the bed, towards Edward's daemon. The Monkey slowly reached out to pet Visalia, smoothing over her ruffled feathers, her beak nuzzling against the Monkey's head. Edward watched the exchange curiously, brows furrowed; and so Marisa held out a hand to him, letting the tears pool in her eyes deliberately.

"Oh, Edward," Marisa murmured, her voice trembling as his hand clasped hers and he sat beside her on the edge of the bed. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, shaking her head a little as the words spilled forth, hand trembling in his own. She blinked a few tears away, keeping her eyes closed, she had to be convincing.

She heard her husband sigh, felt his large hand give hers a squeeze, the other coming up to cup her cheek and wipe away a few spilled tears. She leant into the touch, fluttering her eyes open to look up at him.

"Where is it?"

"Pardon?" she replied quickly, brows furrowing for a moment.

"The baby-"

Her lips wobbled then, tears free to spill forth over her pale cheeks. She shook her head, looking up at her husband as if he'd whispered words of heresy. "He-he was so still ," she cried, her voice deliberately and carefully upset. She didn't want to sound hysterical, not just yet. "And so blue… Oh, Edward!" she wept then, throwing her arms around Edward and burying her face into his chest.

It was a much more emotional display than Marisa ever truly let herself give but she thought, it was only right given her supposed circumstance. Marisa hoped her Monkey was giving a similarly accurate performance. She was surprised by the firm but tight hug he enveloped her in. She cried against him for another moment more, breath stuttering almost pathetically if it were any other situation, as she pulled back to look at him.

"The midwife...she took him away. I couldn't bear it Edward, not when you weren't here," Marisa stuttered out, voice laced with despair and her hands clutching his crisp three-piece suit tightly.

Marisa could see the hurt and guilt shining brightly in Edward's eyes and had to consciously keep a sharp grin from appearing on her face. "I'm sorry, my sweet," he whispered, voice thick as a hand came up to cup her cheek, a thumb wiping away stray tears. "You must need your rest," Edward intoned, looking her over pitifully. "Lay down. Sleep," he insisted, hands guiding her gently but firmly into a supine position. His hand swept over her cheek and hair, touching lightly and tenderly as if he was afraid she might break. It irritated her that he thought her so weak but she let him do it anyway. Now was not the time to argue with him.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead then stood up from the bed, glancing down at her sadly. "I shall take care of everything," Edward told her with an astute nod.

Marisa wiped at her wet eyes, taking in a shaky breath and nodding in acceptance. She turned on her side, watching him leave their room and breathed a sigh of relief. As far as she could tell, Edward had believed her story and though acting bedridden and destitute was not her preferred actions, she could deal with it at least until tomorrow.

Her eyes met her Golden Monkey's and she could see he was about to say something. She glared until he cowered, she already knew what he was going to say. She'd wondered if letting Edward mourn and make arrangements for a dead child that didn't exist was cruel; let alone the fact the child she had borne wasn't his. She'd decided however, that the means justified the ends.

It had to be done.