Epilogue

Edward didn't know how it had happened or how she had done it, but within two months of their child dying, Marisa had ensured that he lost his position as King's Advisor and that they'd be granted a divorce. Divorce was a rare occurrence in society and the Magisterium took it very seriously. He'd tried to defend himself against the accusations that he had been violent with Marisa, that he controlled her but he could never deny that he had, in fact, struck her the night of their child's funeral. All sorts of accusations had swirled around him then, about what kind of man he was and whether he was fit for his position; his reputation had been effectively torn to shreds.

The Magisterium had taken that one fact and used it to paint a rather horrid but undeniable picture of his marriage to Marisa. He knew she was behind it, that she was feeding them lies and mistruths, all to get what she wanted. Despite knowing it was Marisa's doing, Edward Coulter still didn't quite understand the why of what she had done. He had never touched her in anger before that night and had thought they had a good marriage and that she had been happy; it had started to feel as if he'd never known Marisa at all.

It had been three, almost four, long and lonely years since their divorce and though Edward had been a man of good standing before, he'd had to rise through the ranks once again. Not many people in London Society wanted to be associated with a man that had apparently used to strike his young wife. He wasn't the first to do it, he knew that, but Marisa had made sure it'd turned into a newsworthy scandal. Former friends and colleagues were hesitant to be associated with him, even still.

To keep his sanity, he'd steadfastly refused to hear any news of his young ex-wife. Though he couldn't prove it, Marisa had orchestrated his ruin; he could feel it in his very bones. It had been easy to ignore her presence as he'd ventured out of London and even out of Brytain for several years. But he was back now and had been for almost 6 months, working for the Magisterium.

As it was, it was a beautiful Saturday; the sun out and shining down creating a pleasant warmth, as he settled himself on a bench in the park. His social engagements, even after working his way back into the Magisterium were scarce and so he took to spending his time in various parks or visiting museums. It was a mostly lonely life, broken up by the occasional visits of his family but they were few and far between.

He was distracted from his newspaper by the shouts of a child. He frowned, glancing up for a moment before his eyes found the source of the noise. A young girl, dark haired and about four years old was attempting to climb up upon the brick fence that surrounded the park, her daemon in the form of a dull, rust coloured monkey. The sight of the monkey daemon made him cringe.

"Mama, Papa! Watch!" the child called out again, her face bright and mischievous, full of wild youthful exuberance that none of the other children in the park seemed to have. He shook his head in disdain at the little ragamuffin, glancing around for her clearly absent or uncaring parents. Though the child was dressed in fine clothes, he couldn't believe anyone of class would allow their child to run wild as this one was.

"Lyra!" The woman's voice sent a shock through him. His eyes narrowed as the woman came into view, a frown on her still young and beautiful face, heading straight for the climbing child. "Get down from there," she hissed and Edward was stunned for a moment.

Marisa, his former wife, was there in the flesh, only a few metres in front of him. It was the first time he'd seen her in almost four years and Edward wasn't sure how to feel. He didn't catch what the little girl said but he couldn't help keeping his eyes on Marisa and the child in curiosity.

His brows furrowed as he watched them; the girl was surely no older than four. She couldn't truly be Marisa's child, she would've had to have fallen pregnant almost immediately after they'd lost their child. It made no sense and then a figure appeared beside them.

Edward startled as he recognised the man that was now standing next to Marisa, his snow leopard daemon prowling around beneath the child. Lord Asriel Belacqua looked out of place in the sunny London park, even with Marisa and the child beside him. He watched as the younger man's hand settled on Marisa's back for a moment, as the pair murmured to each other.

Curious eyes watched then, as Lord Asriel advanced on the child, who was kicking her legs against the brick from the top of the fence, her daemon now a wildcat. He held his breath for a moment, worried about what was to happen as Lord Asriel's hands clasped around the girl. His brows furrowed deeper as he heard the delighted laugh that came from the little girl.

"Papa! Put me down!" the girl squealed, wriggling and squirming and kicking her legs playfully in the air until Lord Asriel did indeed plant her firmly on the ground.

He watched as Marisa huffed, though he could see amusement on her features and knelt down to the child's level. "Lyra, you can't just run off and climb things," Marisa insisted, her hands moving over the child to wipe away the dirt and debris off the girl from climbing. "You could've hurt yourself."

"She's my little monkey," he heard Lord Asriel tease, surprised at the smirk he could see on the younger man's face. "Just like her Mama."

He watched then, surprised as Marisa turned to glare up at him, almost playfully. The little girl followed her lead, mirroring her action and facial expression. If Edward didn't know any better, he'd have thought the girl really was Marisa's flesh and blood.

Marisa just shook her head, standing up and taking hold of the girl's hand. "We'll miss the airship," he heard her say, turning them towards the entrance of the park. "We better go." With that, Marisa lead them away, barely glancing in his direction which Edward realised he was thankful for.

As Edward watched the family depart the park, the thing that had been bugging him, finally fell into place. The girl was almost a miniature version of Marisa; her hair, her cheeks, her eyes. And on closer inspection of Lord Asriel, he could see his features mixed perfectly with Marisa's in the child.

It felt almost like a holy revelation as it all came together.

The baby had never died. The baby hadn't been a boy. The child was never his.