Lemonish chapter, but with soft lemon because, you know, ✨tenderness✨ … So, enjoy I guess ?

"Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

And Eternity in an hour "

William Blake

When living on a boat, everyone knows that closeness is the norm, even on a vessel like the Havets Perle. Therefore, Will wasn't surprised to be awakened in the middle of the night by heavy footsteps resonating on the deck and drunken sailors' songs coming from the port. Lyra, lying beside him, was deeply asleep. He observed her for a moment without moving, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. She was there, right there, and he could hardly believe it. Pantalaimon approached and rubbed against Will's forehead who stroked the dæmon's brown fur. In her sleep, Lyra smiled.

"You've traveled a long way to get here..." Will whispered.

"It wasn't easy, but I'm glad we're finally here."

"Me too... thank you."

Then he got up with the utmost caution and groped his way to the door, with Kirjava walking silently at his side.

"Where are you going?!" Pantalaimon called out.

Will widened his eyes at the pine marten, urging him to be quieter.

"Pee," he replied in a low voice. "We'll be back, don't worry."

The dæmon looked offended as Will gently closed the door. They walked as quietly as possible down the corridor to reach the restroom. Through the open portholes, he could hear the dissonant songs and alcohol-laden laughter of the sailors. On the way back, a thick hand slapped his back and encircled his shoulders. A strong smell of rum tickled his nostrils.

"Wiillll Paarrrry", rasped the voice, accuenting the "r" more than usual.

Will returned Morten's embrace as the drunken sailor slumped onto him.

"You're a good guy, Doc," he continued. "And that girrrl, Lyrrra, she's a little treasurrrrre."

He hiccuped, becoming heavier on Will's shoulders as he accompanied him to the common room to settle him on the couch. The man's dæmon stumbled by his side and rested his head on Morten's lap.

"No, but I m-mean," Morten added, "Keep her really, really, really c-close to you."

"I will," replied Will, friendly patting the sailor's cheeks. "I will."

And he retraced his steps, leaving Morten singing in his native language, a guttural chant punctuated by wet hiccups. He entered the room with a silly grin, but his smile vanished when he saw Lyra sitting on the bed, her fists clenched on her knees, her gaze serious. He rushed to her side.

"What's wrong?"

She didn't anwser; biting her lower lip.

"She thought you had left again," Pantalaimon explained for her. "I assured her that you would be back soon enough!"

Will placed his hand against Lyra's chin to gaze into her navy eyes. Her's eyebrows remained furrowed.

"You won't mind if I have some issues about abandonment," she muttered.

Will brought his face closer to hers.

"I'm here," he whispered, "I won't leave."

"Promise me, Will Parry," Lyra added, a piercing gleam in her eyes.

"I swear it..."

The intensity of Lyra's gaze troubled him even more, and he seized her lips, ardently, feverishly, as she slid her hands under his tunic to pull him towards her. With a quick gesture, she removed his shirt and began kissing his collarbones and neck. Though he shivered with desire, he paused for a moment, leaning over her, passing his thumb onher trembling lower lip.

"Are you sure this is what you want, right now?" he asked. "Because we can wait..."

Will. Always so serious and considerate. He searched her gaze, intense and concerned. She knew he asked this because of what she had endured during her journey, and for that, she loved and desired him even more fiercely.

"I've never been more sure in my life," she replied, resuming her kisses. "Hold me tight."

He didn't hesitate, lifting her clothes to bring their bare skins together and immersing himself in her embrace. They kissed breathlessly, intertwining and turning around. Lyra felt a hunger growing in the pit of her stomach, and she had the feeling that she would never be satisfied. She faltered under his kisses as he gradually descended along her neck, breast, and then brushed against her lower abdomen. He set about relieving her of her clothes to plunge his hand between her thighs. She gasped in surprise.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a soft voice. "I can stop if you prefer..."

She trembled slightly, yet she felt deep within herself the shadows slowly fading away under Will's touch.

"I'm okay," she whispered, panting. "Don't stop."

She arched under the waves of pleasure that amplified within her, and Will never took his eyes off her. She loved feeling the weight of his body on hers, exploring every part of him with her agile hands, savoring every patch of his skin. She stripped him of the rest of his clothes, and they found themselves naked, two burning, impatient beings in the cool night. With the tips of his fingers and lips, Will discovered every centimeter of the woman he desired so strongly. And with each movement, they sighed, laughed, and moaned together, tenderly clumsy, surely happy. Will had the dizzying and delightful sensation of drowning in her when she kissed him. Under the soft light of the anbaric lantern, she revealed herself to him, naked, free, perfect. He repeated those words to her endlessly, that he loved her, that she was beautiful there, in his hands. She plunged her fingers into his hair, against his neck, deepening their kisses a little more, eager, allowing their tongues to explore each other at will, and whispering, breathless:

"Come, now."

Will stopped, panting, his forehead against hers. He had a moment of hesitation, brief but enough to panic Lyra.

"What? What's wrong?" she asked urgently. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, no," Will stuttered, "It's just that..."

He sat up and perched on the edge of the bed, scratching his neck.

"Don't you want to?" Lyra worriedly inquired.

He turned to her, there she was, lying on his small sailor's bed, dressed as Eve, alert. Of course, he wanted to, so badly. He leaned in to kiss the curve of her hip, tracing up along her chest, her throat and her lips. She shivered.

"Yes, yes, of course I do, but…"

He stood up and started rummaging through his belongings, opening small boxes and pouches. He could feel Lyra's gaze on him, and he had never felt so stupid. He bit his cheek. Finally, he found what he was looking for and returned to sit on the bed, fiddling with the condom wrapper between his fingers. There was nothing to suggest that contraceptives like this existed in this world. There was nothing to suggest that contraception existed at all here. At the time, he had felt pretty clever for bringing it with him. He mentally slapped himself; it really wasn't the time to be pondering such questions. He turned to Lyra, who was watching him with a mix of curiosity and eagerness. His heart resumed its rapid pace.

"What's that?" she asked.

"We use this in my world to avoid unwanted pregnancies, among other things..."

Once again, she smiled at his thoughtfulness and seriousness.

"It's just that..." he continued awkwardly taking the condom out of its wrapper and fumbling to put it on "I love you, but... it's better to be cautious, right?"

The smile that had settled on Lyra's face didn't fade; quite the opposite. She was consumed with desire and love and, pulling him closer, kissed him passionately. He slid between her legs, never breaking his gaze from her, awaiting her final approval. He had been waiting for her for so long. She gave him a nod of consent, and he entered into her gently, his eyes locked onto hers and let out a sigh of pleasure. She opened her mouth slightly, then closed her eyes as her breathing intensified with each of his movements. She wrapped her arms around his neck, encircling his hips with her firm legs to further accentuate the rhythm of their entwined bodies. Will kept up the cadence, sighing with ecstasy, gripping her thighs to move up along her waist and take hold of her hands. The way he moved within her made Lyra feel as if she were teetering on the edge of a deep ocean of unexpected sensations. With a vigorous gesture, she reversed their positions, straddling him, leaning over his face, giving him fiery kisses on his cheeks and lips. She straightened up, pressing her healthy hand on his chest. Will put his hands on her thighs, sliding them along her hips and waist while she undulated above him. He wanted her whole, closer to him, always closer. He lifted himself to embrace her and buried his face in her neck. Lyra quickened the pace, gripping Will's back with all her strength, while he embrace her, as if he feared she might fly away. But no, not this time, never again. She was here, right here, real and so alive. That's when every muscles in Lyra's body tensed. She dug her nails into Will's skin, arched her back even more, her breath taken away by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her. Everything she had endured in the past few weeks, the pain, the anxiety, absolutely everything, faded away, leaving only boundless love and excessive pleasure in its wake. She let out a deep moan and whispered tender words into Will's ear, as if to ensure he was truly there with her, inside her. She kissed him as he, too, succumbed to orgasm, holding her tighter against him.

"Oh Lyra!" he sighed, burying his face against her burning skin.

They remained intertwined for a long while, like tightly tangled vines, dizzy and trembling under the ecstasy of their embrace.

Outside, on the deck, the gathered sailors watched in wonder as vibrant auroras illuminated the ephemeral night sky.

They were there, lying down, at peace, nestled against each other. Will was playing with the khamsa pendant shining on Lyra's chest, while she, her eyes closed, gently caressed his shoulder with her fingertips.

"How do you manage without... contraception?" he questioned.

"It exists." Lyra replied, her eyes still closed, enjoying the soft touch of Will's fingers between her breasts. "It depends on where you are in the world, I suppose... I know that in Babylon, there are objects like yours. What do you call it?"

"Condom."

"Exactly. But in Brytain, with the Magisterium, it's difficult, even if it has lost some power, it remains deeply rooted in people's minds and customs. Births and bodies are controled. If you're a woman, sexual intercourses are supposed to be reserved for conceiving a child and being married."

"Only women?"

"Technically, it applies to everyone, but nobody is fooled. If you're a woman, it's you who you're the one who will have to bear an unwanted pregnancy if things go...astray. It's up to you to face the consequences. However, there are more or less legal techniques. For example, the gypsies women have herbal preparations to be taken regularly or after intercourse."

"But does it work?"

"Well, it works for me, at least."

Sensing that Will turned his face toward her, Lyra opened her eyes.

"What?" she exclaimed, surprised by his gaze. "Oh, Will, come on! I remind you that we were never supposed to see each other again! Did you really think I would wait for you my whole life?"

"No, I didn't mean that," Will retorted, resting his head against her shoulder. "I'm sorry, it was an inappropriate reaction."

"It's okay," she replied, wrapping her legs with his. "I suppose you didn't wait for me either."

He nodded, passing a dreamy hand over her hips.

"Many?" Lyra asked.

Once again, he sat up, perplexed.

"Do you really want to know that?"

"I think so. I want to know everything about you and these past years. Unless it bothers you."

He lay on his back, and she nestled against him, her arm wrapped around his chest.

"Well, I'm not sure it's very exciting," he said. "There have been a few people, but nothing serious, mostly casual flings. I think I've caused disappointments. I've never..."

His sentence trailed off. Lyra looked up at him, and he lowered his gaze to her, his eyes shimmering. How could he express in words what he had felt just a few minutes before? It went beyond love and passion, it almost defied comprehension. He wanted to tell her that, during those seven years, he had never stopped searching for her in the corners of his own world, in the trees, amidst the faces in a crowd, in the sunbeams that light the buildings, in the raindrops that fell on the sidewalks. That he couldn't help but expect to see her emerge behind a door or around a corner. Tell her that at this very moment, he had never felt more alive. The words got stuck in his throat.

"I love you," Lyra whispered.

Two words that echoed as if she had read his thoughts and shared it all. He kissed her soft forehead and embraced her, closing his eyes to savor the gentle warmth emanating from her body against his own.

"Will?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you bring several... condoms from your world?"

Will gave her an impish smile and tightened his embrace as she eagerly pressed her lips against his.

"You're so considerate," she retorted, laughing as he kissed her again, more deeply.

She mumbled something between their lips. He pulled back to hear her better.

"Glasses. Can you put on your glasses?"

Will looked at her, taken aback, uncertain of what he had heard as she blushed at the audacity of her own request. He let out a crystalline laughter, reached out to the small bedside table where his glasses were placed before resumed their embrace where they had left off.

Although it was still early, the sun spread its golden rays into the bedroom where Will and Lyra were soundly asleep, nestled against each other. Their two dæmons, who had vanished during the night, were curled up on the small comfortable couch. Whispers could be heard from the other side of the door. It slowly opened, and Will turned around with difficulty to catch a glimpse of a thick mane of fiery hair appearing in the crack.

"Will?" Mette whispered, "Will, wake up!"

"What's happening?" he asked, still groggy.

"I'm sorry to wake you up," said the captain, "but Joshua's condition has worsened. I think we need you, quickly."

Will sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"I'm coming." he replied, "Give me a minute."

"No problem, Doc."

She paused briefly.

"However, do get dressed," she added with a knowing smile.

Will suddenly realized his complete nudity, as well as Lyra's sleeping behind him. He cleared his throat, feeling embarrassed, and Mette closed the door. He hastily put on some clothes and sat on the edge of the bed, covering Lyra with the sheet before gently kissing her cool shoulder. She smelled of almonds and night time. He sighed. He would have preferred to slip back against her, to feel her over and over again.

"Lyra," he whispered.

"Hmm?"

She turned towards him, still half asleep.

"I have to go upstairs to see a guy who's in bad shape," he reluctantly said. "Stay and sleep. I'll be back as soon as possible."

Lyra reached out a hand to hold him back, but she still felt too weak to put up any resistance. Will kissed her cheek, and then he left, followed by Kirjava.

She emerged a little later and stretched leisurely, her body and heart feeling light. This time, she didn't worry about Will's absence by her side, remembering his words in her sleep. She put on some clothes and slipped out of the room. The empty hallway was only filled with muffled voices coming from a nearby room. They were grumbling and bustling with intensity. With Pan, she entered the quiet and cold communal bathrooms, intending to take a shower. Through the porthole, she caught a glimpse of the blue sky and the tops of Bodø's roofs. The contact with cold water finished pulling her out of her sweet numbness. Refreshed and perfectly awake, she stepped out onto the deck where the radiant sun and a chorus of seagulls perched on the ship's mast welcomed her.

"Good morning!" a voice said next to her.

Mette gestured for Lyra to join her. She was sitting at a table on the deck, with her back to the sun, and her vibrant tawny hair shining under the bright rays. Lyra took a seat beside her. The captain was busy repairing a fishing net.

"Care for some coffee?" Mette offered. "It comes straight from the Empire of Niger, enjoy!"

Lyra delighted in the tobacco and spice aromas wafting from the cup the captain handed her. Nils, her cat dæmon, basked in the sun, sprawled out on the table, while Pan observed him with curiosity. The captain resumed her mending, and Lyra watched her precise movements, relishing in the caress of the sun on her face.

"So, what do you plan to do next?" Mette asked without looking up from her needle.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we should be leaving the port in a day or two. I'm waiting for a cargo that we'll be delivering to New France. Are you thinking of joining us here? Or waiting on the dock, like most sailors' women?"

Lyra remained silent, offended by the question. "Sailor's woman"... She and Will had just found each other. Couldn't they be given some time?

"What are your skills?" the captain added, not giving her time to respond, fixing her emerald gaze on her.

"What do you mean?"

"Can you navigate?"

"No, but..."

"Can you cook?"

Lyra shook her head.

"Perhaps you have knowledge of mechanics or anbaric? International trade, maybe? Do you speak other languages?"

Under Mette's pressing questions, Lyra stayed silent, mortified. The wind rushed across the deck, tossing the captain's fiery mane in waves of flame as she sighed.

"I'm not sure if this is the right place for you, Miss Silvertongue. You'll have to arm yourself with patience while waiting for Will to return from our expeditions."

"You know," retorted Lyra, determined not to be pushed around, "Will and I have hoped for this reunion for far too long to let anyone separate us. Do you insist on him being on your ship?"

"Of course, he's an essential member," Mette replied, holding her gaze, unwavering.

"Then you'll have to accept me as well. He won't tolerate us being apart."

"Oh, Will Parry is certainly important to my crew. But he won't have the final word here, he's not the captain!" Mette retorted with a bitterish laugh.

Lyra felt annoyance welling up inside her. She opened her mouth to retort, but a long and painful scream came from the main building. They both turned abruptly towards the windows. Mette looked deeply concerned. They waited for a few moments before Will and Kirjava emerged from the central building. They approached them, him pale with a lost look in his eyes, his tunic stained with blood and other undefined secretions, his dæmon gazing at him with concern. He passed his hand over Lyra's back before sitting next to her and pressing his palms against his eyelids, sighing deeply. The two women watched him, on high alert.

"Will," Mette began, "how is Joshua?"

But Will didn't anwser. He kept his hands on his eyes, breathing heavily. So Mette repeated her question:

"Will? How is Joshua?"

This time, he looked up at her with a harsh, dark stare that Lyra had never seen before.

"What am I supposed to say?" he hissed, "You know damn well how he's doing and you know damn well what needs to be done."

"Don't talk to me like that," the captain retorted, icy.

He lost his temper. He straightened up, stiff, his muscles tense with anger.

"For fuck's sake, Mette!" he exclaimed, "What exactly are you waiting for?!"

"Don't talk to me like that!" the captain repeated in a thunderous voice, "You know damn well I have no choice! It's about his safety!"

"His safety? But if he stays here, he's going to die! Do you understand that?! Die! I'm doing everything I can, but all that awaits him is a goddamn septicemia! He needs proper care, and if you won't accept that, you're condemning him!"

The captain, who had also stood up, clenched her fists.

"Fuck!" she cried out.

And she left them, carrying with her her anger and concern as she headed towards the central building. Will sat back down and rubbed his face for a long moment. Lyra placed her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry about that," he said, looking at her. "The captain is overly concerned about the safety of her crew, and sometimes it goes against their well-being and health..."

"What happened?"

"Joshua got hit by crates on his leg during a storm. An open fracture, really nasty, I'll spare you the details. But I can't perform miracles, and he absolutely needs proper medical care in a hospital."

"Why is the captain refusing then?"

Will thought for a moment about the words to choose.

"You'll quickly notice that some of the sailors here are singular. They have their own stories, often terrible and sad. They had to flee their homes, their countries for personal or political reasons, because who they are, what they represent is highly unacceptable in their societies, and they are no longer safe there. The captain often fears that if some of them leave the ship for medical care or anything else, they'll end up in prisons or asylums. It's complicated to explain, and I'm not the best person for that. They can tell you themselves if they want to."

Lyra frowned. What Will was telling her reminded her of The Shelter in Aleppo.

There was noise outside the boat. They saw two nurses with a stretcher enter the building and come out a few minutes later, carrying a pale-faced man, accompanied by Mette and another sailor.

"She must have come to her senses," Will muttered to himself.

He turned his attention back to Lyra. She reached out to caress his cheek with a smile.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked.

"Hm, not enough," she replied with a mischievous smile.

He kissed her palm, his gaze locked with hers. A gentle warmth radiated in her belly.

"Can I take a look?" he asked, taking her bandaged wrist.

He unwrapped the bandage slowly, removing the poultice and carefully manipulating the joint. Lyra watched as he did, remembering how his hands had applied themselves to her body for other pleasant things just a few hours ago. She felt the heat rise to her face.

"It's much better," Will analyzed. "Are you still in pain?"

"Much less," she replied in a small voice.

"Okay, don't move. I'll take a quick shower, gather a few things. Then I'll redo your bandage, and we'll go, alright?"

She nodded and smiled. He leaned in to kiss her, and once again, a fiery sweetness enveloped her body. Will got up and left. Lyra slumped against the back of her chair, tilted her head back, and pressed her hand against her eyes, whining. She never imagined that one day she could feel so many emotions for someone; it bordered on madness. Pantalaimon had settled on the table in place of Nils, basking in the sun's warmth. She stayed like that for a long moment, letting her mind wander in the shivering northern wind, her ears lulled by the whisper of the waves and the tinkling of the sails against the mast. She opened her eyes when she felt a hand on her hair. Will sat down beside her and set about redoing her bandage. He had put on clean clothes, his hair was still damp and he smelled of fresh soap.

"Okay, let's go?" he said.

"Yes, let's go."

They left the ship, Will holding a black sports bag in one hand and encircling Lyra's shoulders with his free arm. He couldn't wait to pass through the window, to bring her into his world, to show her his apartment, and to have her meet Mary. The latter had insisted heavily that as soon as he found her and passed through the window, they must come to see her as soon as possible. They made their way through Bodø, and Lyra bombarded him with questions about the city in his world. He refused to answer, laughing at her insistance because he wanted to keep the surprise fully for her. The dæmons ran ahead of them, eager as well. After crossing the bustling market, they passed by a restaurant and turned into a dead-end where iron trash bins were piled up, emitting the acrid smell of fish and a few empty crates. Simultaneously, Will and Kirjava stopped in their tracks, frozen.

"Is everything okay?" Lyra asked.

Will's complexion had turned pale, his smile vanished and he swallowed with difficulty. At his feet, Kirjava let out a plaintive meow.

"Lyra...," he began in a blank voice, "the window... it's gone."