Two

It was exceptionally harder than she thought it would be to pretend to be sad and grieving. Only a few days had passed and she was starting to feel restless. She was not used to doing nothing and she was not used to the emotions she was having to portray. It was tiring .

None of that however compared to the fact that she had not seen her child in four days. Her newborn daughter was safely tucked away in a townhouse on the opposite side of London with her father but Marisa longed to have her child in her arms. Her heart still ached at her child being so far away but she knew it was for a good reason. As Asriel had reminded her before he'd left four days ago, they were doing this to keep Lyra safe.

Her body ached, in the most uncomfortable of ways and she felt utterly unlike herself. The after effects of labor and pregnancy were not something she had been prepared for; it seemed women failed to explain all that happened to their bodies during and after a pregnancy. She supposed if women were honest about what happened to a woman's body, other young girls and women would never aspire to be mothers. The whole experience was dreadful.

She felt exhausted and on edge and it didn't help that she had to pretend so much. Her irritability spiked, snapping at Edward much harsher then she ever would have before. Most of the time it was calculated, other times it was because she was in a mood. He simply put it down to the loss of their child and all the other things that happened after pregnancy but it didn't mean that he wasn't hesitant when he strolled through their home to find her in their sitting room.

"Marisa, my sweet," Edward started, eyes watching her carefully and curiously. She had, after all, been unpredictable since the loss of their child. He found the behaviour distasteful; but he'd keep that opinion to himself unless she carried on too far.

"Yes?" Marisa asked, eyes flitting up from the page of the book she was reading, to meet his own.

She watched as her husband stepped forward and settled himself down on the couch beside her, looking politely grim. It was clear by his actions that this would be a serious talk, so she slipped a bookmark into the pages and closed the book deftly. She focused her attention on Edward, gaze drifting to his daemon that moved solemnly to the edge of the couch.

"I've made all the arrangements, as I said I would. The funeral shall be tomorrow," he informed her and Marisa took in a shaky breath.

The funeral. She had let him plan it, the only thing he seemed to be able to do was take charge and organise. Edward had always been best at taking control and making things happen; it was why he was held in such high regard in the political sphere. His well known need for control would also, ultimately, be his downfall once Marisa had her way.

She pressed her lips together, looking away from her husband for a moment, feigning sadness. Her fingers worried the corner of the book she had been reading as she nodded. "Of course. Thank you," she breathed, glancing up at him through her eyelashes, contorting her face into a sad and pitiable expression.

"There's no need to thank me. He was our child. It had to be done," Edward replied firmly, a hand coming up to cup her chin. He leant close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I didn't want you to worry about it, considering all you've been through," he told her as he pulled away.

"Yes, with all I went through on my own," she murmured darkly in reply, glancing away from him once again.

Edward sighed. "Marisa...I am sorry that I wasn't there," he started, trying not to let her hear his frustration.

Marisa pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. "Yes, well, sorry doesn't change anything," Marisa told him quietly, voice cold as ice. "I was all alone and our child was dead," she insisted, voice catching as she spoke, full of fake emotion.

She shook her head, slamming the book down on the end table and standing quickly. The moment she'd read that a child's death could cause a rift between parents and misplaced blame, she'd known exactly what she was going to do. She almost felt sorry for what she was planning to do to Edward.

"Marisa," Edward exclaimed, voice sounding rougher then he'd intended she knew. His hand latched around her wrist and pulled her to a stop. The touch surprised her and her mouth dropped open in a silent gasp. It wasn't rough or hard, simply firm; enough for Marisa to know he only meant to stop her, not hurt her.

However, his intentions didn't matter much to Marisa. Slowly she looked up at him, her eyes meeting his. "Let me go," she snapped, tugging her hand away harshly from his grasp.

Marisa simply glared at him for a moment before turning on her heel and exiting the room. She could hear Edward sigh as she left. Beside her, her Monkey was walking agitated, growling that Visalia had attempted to latch onto him with her claws.

I could snap her neck, with ease , her Monkey hissed about Visalia as soon as they were out of earshot. Marisa had no cause to disagree, she'd thought of killing Edward herself.

The next evening had passed with an almost unbearable tension. By the morning, Marisa could see that Edward was agitated and unsettled; something she found a surprising mix in the man. She watched him keenly as they dressed, moving around each other with the ease of a married couple. At her vanity, she fixed her hair into sedate curls, letting them settle on her shoulders before fixing a veiled beret on top of her head. Her Monkey sat beside her on the velvet stool, eyes watching Edward and his daemon warily.

"We must go soon," Edward told her gently, moving to stand behind her as she sat, his hands settling firmly on her shoulders. He gave a soft squeeze. "Are you okay?" he asks her, looking genuinely concerned for her.

"We are burying our baby, Edward. Do you really think I'm okay?" Marisa sighed, voice high and nearing on hysterical. It was a put on voice, of course. She'd never felt as calm as she was now.

"No, no. Of course not," Edward replied with a sigh, shaking his head. His hands stayed on her shoulders though. "I just want to help you, sweetheart. To make sure you'll be okay," he insisted, leaning down a little so their eyes met in the mirror's reflection.

Marisa scoffed, shaking her head as she pulled out of his grasp and standing up. She heard Edward sigh as she smoothed out the skirt of her dress and plucked her handbag up off the vanity. Her Monkey growled at Visalia as they made their way out of her shared bedroom.

"A letter arrived for you," Edward announced as she reached the door. Her brows furrowed and she turned her head back to look at him for a moment, noticing his slightly slumped shoulders and look of consternation. "It's on the sideboard," he informed her, straightening his suit and tie.

She said nothing as she continued on her way out of the room, brows furrowing curiously. She spotted the letter as she moved down the hall, picking it up and turning it over eagerly. The handwriting on the front caught her eye and she knew who it was from. Carefully, Marisa opened the letter, making sure her Monkey served as lookout as she pulled the single slip of paper out of it's envelope.

Her smile grew wide at Asriel's loping, scrawl asking her to meet that very afternoon. He would have Lyra with him and the thought of finally seeing her child once again made her heart race. Being parted from her newborn daughter had been agony and she wanted to go to them that very moment. Unfortunately, Edward was making his way down the hall, eyeing her steadily.

She slipped the letter back into it's envelope and then the envelope into her handbag. "Condolences," Marisa stated before Edward could even begin to ask. "From an old school friend," she continued, giving him a terse smile.

Edward simply nodded, making his way over to her and settling his hand on the small of her back, kissing her cheek. It was a bold move, considering she'd been nothing but sharp with him since the day before but Marisa leant into it anyway. She had to create a delicate balance between them and there was no use being needlessly standoffish with him.

However, she did pull away quickly, giving him a tight smile. Her hand clasped around the delicate white handkerchief she fit into her bag, pulling it out as she dabbed at the corner of her eye, feigning an onslaught of tears. "It's time, isn't it?" She murmured, looking up at her husband, her expression full of vulnerability.

"Yes, it is," Edward replied, sadly and stoically. He'd spent the past few days being the strong one, not letting the emotion shine through as he took care of her and the funeral arrangements.

It had only been after his visit to the undertakers, that Marisa had seen him lose his composure. He'd held her close that night, a whiskey attached to his hand, as he sought her comfort after seeing the body of their supposed infant son. Marisa didn't know where Asriel had managed to find a dead body of a newborn infant and she wouldn't ask; she was just grateful he'd made it all happen. They'd be burying a baby today, it just wouldn't be hers or Edward's.

The funeral had been sad and short and she'd let Edward name the child. Alexander Coulter adorned the headstone and Marisa realised it was the first time she'd heard the name. Edward had never mentioned it and even while pregnant, he'd not suggested the name Alexander. She grimaced a little, trying not to huff at the fact Edward had not consulted her. It shouldn't've mattered; Alexander Coulter wasn't real . But Edward thought he was and he hadn't even asked her opinion on the name.

Marisa however, despite her annoyance, was in her element playing the grieving mother.

Edward had kept the service small, something Marisa was glad for. Only their closest of friends and associates had attended and all their attention had been on Marisa. She revelled in it, the sad smiles, the tight hugs, the whispered words of condolence. She drew their attention like moths to a flame and held them in a watery, tear-filled court. Edward was grieving too, but a mother not having the chance to be a mother, seemed like the greatest tragedy to their social circle. A few of the wives of Edward's friends had even told her so.

"Thank you, Mrs. Sharpton," Marisa murmured, giving the other wife a sad, tired smile and clasping her hand in thanks. "But, I think I might rest. Today has been...so overwhelming," Marisa told her, worrying the handkerchief between her hands.

"Of course, dear. Of course. You go rest. I'll let Edward know where you're off too," Mrs. Sharpton replied sympathetically, jumping at the chance to help in any way. Mrs. Sharpton was the wife of a prominent politician, the former King's Advisor; a position Marisa had helped Edward steal away from the man. Though they were friendly, there had been an underlying tension between the men ever since.

"You are too kind, Mrs. Sharpton," Marisa whispered to her, nodding gratefully. The older woman beamed at the words, patting her shoulder in what she must've thought was a friendly gesture, before guiding Marisa away.

Usually, Marisa would not allow such familiarity unless she initiated it first. But, Mrs. Sharpton was a kind, older woman that simply wanted to help. She was not someone Marisa wanted to alienate.

With one last grateful smile, Marisa exited the room and made her way down the hallway, glad that the small gathering was contained to the living room only. She plucked her purse from the sideboard and her coat, pulling it on as she headed for the back door. Asriel had asked to meet her and she silently cursed as she realised she was going to be late. Hopefully, her lover wouldn't see that as a sign that she didn't want to be with them. He was, after all, famously temperamental.

She snuck around the townhouse, careful not to be seen and down the block quickly before hailing a taxi cab. She gave the driver Asriel's address, already knowing he'd be at the small home he'd purchased himself years ago, for when he had to be in London. He hated staying in hotels and thought it was the only sensible option. Marisa smiled to herself, heart pounding with excitement at finally being able to see her lover and their child.

It felt like only moments hand passed before the taxi was pulling up outside of Asriel's townhouse home. She paid the driver with ease, giving him a beatific smile as she exited the cab. Smoothing out her coat and dress, she made her way to the front door, glancing around herself cautiously as she knocked. She would never normally be so bold, they were both well known in London society circles, but she couldn't contain her eagerness.

The door was pulled open and she half expected it to be Asriel. She shook her head at the thought, smiling at Thorold instead as he let her inside. She moved through the house like she belonged there, which in her mind she did, finding Asriel in his parlour, just where she expected him to be.

Marisa stopped for a moment in the threshold, watching her lover as he read, Stelmaria lounging contentedly by the fire, slipping her coat off and tossing it on the back of an armchair. The beret she hadn't bothered to take off was next, dropped onto the side table without care as her eyes remained steady on the man. An unusual warmth filled her, made her heart beat faster as she simply watched him for a moment, leaning against the doorjamb casually.

Her Monkey made his way slowly into the room, beady dark eyes glancing around as if looking for something. She knew it was Lyra he was looking for and he seemed disappointed when he couldn't find the child. He slunk over towards Stelmaria, curling up around her with ease.

"Did you simply come to stare, Marisa?" Asriel's gruff voice asked her, eyes not looking up from the book in his hands. She could see the smirk on his lips however.

Marisa let out a light laugh, finally moving further forward into the room. She took her time getting to him, stopping only a few feet away. "If I wanted that, I'd be looking at our child. Where is she? Where is Lyra?" she asked then, a note of longing apparent in her voice.

Asriel huffed, finally closing the book, deep blue eyes gazing up at her. "She is upstairs, sleeping. The wet-nurse is with her," Asriel replied, setting the book down beside him, gaze flicking over her with curiosity and amusement. "Is that all you came here for? To see the child?" Asriel asked, the closest hint of a whine in his voice she'd ever heard.

"Of course," Marisa quipped back, her smile growing wide and sly. She tilted her head towards the door. "Now go fetch her for me," she drawled haughtily, eyes glittering teasingly at the man.

He simply scoffed, reaching a hand out to wrap around her delicate wrist and tug her almost roughly down onto his lap. Marisa laughed, settling comfortably on his lap and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "I am not your man-servant ," he growled, eyes meeting hers as his hand came up to cup her jaw, pulling her into a kiss.

Marisa moaned happily into the kiss; teeth and tongue tangling with his playfully. She felt his hands move over her body slowly, gripping at her hip and thigh as he deepened the kiss. A groan left her as she pulled away, forehead resting against his, breath heavy as her eyes fluttered open to find his gaze. It had been too long and she wanted him badly, but they couldn't.

"It's still too soon, my love," she whispered between kisses, lips forming an almost childish pout as she finally pulled away. She was not at all pleased with the after effects of pregnancy.

Asriel sighed, but said nothing. Leaning back in his chair, he kept her situated on his lap, hands smoothing over the fabric of her dress. His brows furrowed for a moment before his face lit up in amusement; his hand tracing the curve of her hip down to her thigh.

"Is this the dress you wore to the funeral?" He asked lightly, amusement clear in his tone as he played with the fabric. His gaze flickered across the room to the veiled beret she had been wearing and couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Coming to see me in your funeral attire? How bold. I'm sure Edward found you positively, grief-strickenly beautiful," Asriel teased, a finger tracing the hemline of her cleavage.

"Asriel," Marisa warned, eyes flashing dangerously, hand tugging deliberately at the hair at the base of his neck.

"Fine, fine. No more talk of Edward," Asriel acquiesced, giving her a wide smile and pulling her into another kiss, this one sweet and soft.

A loud cry pierced through the townhouse and Marisa pulled away at once, eyes wide and curious. Asriel sighed, giving her a little grin. "Lyra is awake," he told her needlessly.

Marisa sprung up off his lap, her Golden Monkey already across the room and to the door before Asriel or Stelmaria could stand. The Monkey turned to her, eyes eager as Marisa tried to keep her calm facade in place. It wasn't working however, she wanted to see her daughter.

"I'll show you to her nursery," Asriel said, finally moving and guiding her out of the parlour and up the stairs with a secure hand on the small of her back. The touch was casual and familiar and though many men had performed the gesture on her, only Asriel ever truly guided her.

They hastened up the stairs and Marisa could hear a woman's voice, presumably the wet-nurse, coming from one of the rooms. She turned there, pushing the door open with ease, a smile blooming on her face as she finally saw her daughter. Lyra was on a changing station, the nurse fastening a new cloth nappy around her and Marisa couldn't believe how big Lyra looked compared to when she had given her over to Asriel.

Her heartbeat pounded thunderously and her Monkey jaunted through the room, swinging himself up to the changing table to gaze down at the child and her daemon in awe. The Monkey startled the nurse but she quickly recovered, redressing Lyra and picking her up to cradle in her arms. Turning, Marisa could see that the nurse was surprised by her presence and that of Asriel.

"Miss Connors," Asriel started, voice deep and authoritative. "We shall attend to Lyra, now. You may go," he told the young woman, who if Marisa had to guess, was about her own age. The nurse looked unsure, brows furrowed as she glanced down at Lyra then back up to Asriel. It became clear to Marisa then, that he had not spent much time with Lyra in the first few days of her life.

Marisa frowned at her lover for a moment before focusing her attention back on her child. Her smile grew wide and genuine as she stepped forward, reaching her arms out for the babe, almost snatching her out of the nurses' hands. She didn't even bother to look at the other woman, focused solely on her daughter. She was besotted.

"Oh, it's been torture being apart like this," Marisa murmured, the moment the nurse had left the room and Asriel had shut the door behind her.

She cradled Lyra tightly to her chest, arms and hands holding her secure and tight. Behind her, on the table, the Golden Monkey and Pantalaimon were a mirror image of Marisa and Lyra. The sight was almost too odd to gaze at.

"My darling little Lyra," Marisa started, thumb stroking over her child's baby soft cheek. "I'm sorry I can't be with you. But, it will be just the three of us before you know it. I promise," she whispered, filling with delight when Lyra's eyes opened and she saw her dark irises for the first time. Her eyes were just like her father's.

"She is a fussy little thing," Asriel spoke up, from his position leaning against the door. He was watching them curiously, almost as if he didn't understand what was happening. "Maybe she just wants her mother," he mused, chuckling a little.

Marisa looked up at him, shaking her head. She looked stricken for a moment. "Don't say that Asriel," she murmured, thinking of her plan and the time it would take for her to get away from her husband. She couldn't be sloppy about it but oh, how she wanted nothing more than to forget Edward and run away with Lyra and Asriel to some far off land. It was a dream and a delightful one; but she wasn't prepared to have her own reputation ruined, not when the power and reputation Asriel could provide her were so much more then Edward could ever have hoped.

"When shall you see her again?" He asked, stepping in beside her and settling an arm around her waist. He gazed down at their daughter in Marisa's arms, a small smile coming to his lips as Marisa rocked her. The question had been about Lyra but they both knew he was asking when he would see her again.

Marisa sighed, shaking her head and finally looking up at Asriel for the first time since entering the room. Her eyes met his and her lips pursed. "I'm afraid it shall have to be a while yet. You know that we can't risk being caught, not now that she's born," Marisa told him, voice smooth and sweet. "You should go ahead, to your estate outside Oxford. I need to be focused, Edward's ruination won't be easy," she murmured, her eyes finding his. "You and Lyra here, in London, will be much too much temptation for me."

Asriel sighed but he knew it was the truth. If Marisa was to succeed, he and Lyra needed to be out of sight and out of mind. He didn't like it, yet if it meant they could be together properly, he would do it.

"Alright," he nodded, hand tightening on her waist. "Two days and Lyra and I shall be in Oxford," Asriel told her, whispering against her ear. He brought his hand up, finger delicately caressing Lyra's nose as she looked up at them, wide eyed and curious. "She looks like you, you know," he told her, sounding oddly and uncharacteristically sentimental.

Marisa simply laughed, genuine and musical. She had been thinking the exact same thing about him and Lyra.

It was dark as Marisa finally made her way inside the home she shared with her husband. The townhouse was quiet and immediately, Marisa knew she had pushed her luck that evening. She had no doubt that her husband would be questioning her whereabouts but it had just been so hard to tear herself away from Lyra.

She pulled off her coat and placed her purse down on the entry table, strolling further into her home, waiting for Edward to appear. It didn't take long but she was surprised by the anger she could see on his face. She had been expecting worry, perhaps exasperation but certainly not anger. It took a lot for Edward to become angry and she'd only seen it happen a few times in their marriage.

"Where have you been Marisa?" He asked, his dark eyes pinning hers.

Marisa sighed. "I simply needed some space and some air," she told him, not backing down from his gaze.

She swept passed him into the living room, her eyes carefully perusing the room, surprised to see an almost empty decanter of liquor. The colouring, and her husband's tastes, told her it was most probably scotch. Her brows furrowed, he didn't usually drink scotch on his own and she wondered if he'd started while they still had guests. It certainly wasn't like him to drink so heavily and with people around.

"You've been gone almost four hours, Marisa," Edward continued, Visalia creeping closer and closer to the Golden Monkey, wings fluttering agitatedly.

The Monkey sneered at Edward's daemon, tiny black fingers flexing in anticipation. He was ready to attack and so was Marisa. She spun around, eyes locking with his and head tilting upwards as she spoke.

"Have you been drinking, Edward?" Marisa asked, tone sickly sweet and smooth as honey. A note of disapproval dropped into her voice as she shook her head.

Her husband scoffed, frowning. "Marisa…" her husband started, taking a step closer to her but not reaching out to touch her.

"I wasn't gone that long, you see," Marisa continued, as if he hadn't even spoken, head tilting as she made eye contact with the man. "Maybe the drinks muddled up your memory," she suggested, nodding encouragingly.

"Enough!" Edward spat, glaring at Marisa now. "I know my mind perfectly well. Anthony's wife said you'd gone to lay down. You haven't been here for hours ," Edward insisted, lips pursed angrily. She had been gone almost four hours, surely, Edward thought, she couldn't think she could hide that. "So where were you?" he blustered, thinking he'd caught her in some kind of lie, though he didn't know of what kind.

Marisa sighed, suddenly annoyed by his lack of co-operation. For a man that had, almost certainly, drunk a whole decanter of scotch to himself, he was stubbornly seeing sense. Maybe manipulation and charm was not the way to go that night.

"I had to get out of this house," her tone turned cold, her eyes hard as she met his gaze once again. "Away from you ."

Edward's brows furrowed and he looked at her with wide, alarmed eyes. "What?"

"I asked you not to go away," Marisa started, voice pitching high and bordering on hysterical. "I told you something didn't feel right, that I was worried! You said everything would be fine. That I was just overthinking it," she hissed, lips forming into a snarl as her Monkey swiped at Visalia for getting too close. If Edward wanted a fight, she would give him one.

"Marisa...I couldn't have known! Neither of us could have known he would be stillborn," Edward snapped back, almost gasping at the sudden change in his wife. He wanted to grab her and shake some sense into her; make her see it was the grief talking, that neither of them were to blame. He had to believe neither of them were to blame.

Marisa glared, taking a step closer and meeting his eyes. "You are the reason our son is dead . It is your fault," Marisa said slowly and calmly, her tone ice cold and cruel.

The words were unnecessarily cruel and Edward felt the anger bubble up inside him. Marisa was not the only one grieving about their child and to blame him? It was too much. Before he could think about what he was doing, he'd struck Marisa with the back of his hand; Visalia's beak pecking at the Golden Monkey's face at the same time.

Marisa gasped, eyes going wide in shock; her Monkey screeching with anger. A hand covered her warm, stinging cheek and as she sneered, she felt a pinprick of pain across her lip. Frowning, she pressed her fingers to her bottom lip gently, cautiously, feeling her lip wet and tender. She pulled her hand away quickly, eyes finding the bright red spots of blood on her fingertips with surprise. Edward had struck her and his ring had left a visible mark.

And, oh - he had just given her the perfect ammunition.

The curving, shark-like smile that adorned her lips and the dark sparkle in her eyes, frightened Edward as she turned to look at him and for the first time in their marriage, he could see her true nature.