Notes : Updated the first chapters a bit to make them fit properly with Pullman's world. Nothing big but just the locations that are corrected. I hope you'd like this chapter as I truly enjoyed writing it :)
The two days leading up to their departure were similar. Will was busy in his office, went to the town's shops to restock his supplies, while Lyra returned to the kitchen. The most difficult part for them, which would remain challenging throughout the journey, was to abide by the rules imposed by Mette Rasmussen and not to rush into each other's arms when they saw each other. So they kept themselves busy, working to make the hours pass faster in longing to be released and be together in the intimacy of their room, to love each other even more.
It was a necessary evil. They knew all too well that the most important thing was to know that the other was nearby. All they had to do was reach out to touch, and that was what mattered. When they were neither working nor kissing, they studied the maps diligently. They quickly deduced that the window must be in Montroyal, the capital of New France, where the ship was supposed to dock for its delivery. They only had to find the garden. As the name of this city resembled that of Montreal in his world, Will thought that if the window was indeed there, they would probably end up in Canada, which delighted him as he had always wanted to discover that city.
On the day of departure, Lyra awoke at dawn. Morten had asked her to be in the kitchen early to do the inventory with him for the third time. She was strangely nervous, probably also excited about setting sail.
"Lyra?"
She turned to Will, sitting on the bed, half covered by the sheet, rubbing his eyes.
"When the boat starts, meet me on the roof of the central building."
"Is it a date?" she asked with a mischievous smile, leaning towards him to kiss him.
"Maybe…"
The work in the kitchen involved not only preparing meals but also managing a travel inventory and anticipating any supply shortages. Therefore, Lyra accompanied Morten to markets and merchants to negotiate provisions and have them delivered to the ship. When they returned to the kitchen, the sailor would teach her technical skills, assign her minor tasks, and together they would prepare jars to preserve perishable items so they could use them sparingly throughout the journey. He tirelessly explained that what sailors needed to survive at sea was "a clean bunk, companions to share a song and a good meal." Their mission was essential. To her surprise, Lyra began to find a certain interest and even pleasure in trying to cook. However, despite all her efforts, she couldn't avoid cutting or burning herself several times in these few days. On one hand, it suited her because Will rushed to take care of her every time, but on the other hand, it bruised her pride in wanting to succeed in this mission.
So, the day of departure had arrived, and not surprisingly, the kitchen inventory was perfect, with everything in its place. All the sailors had returned to their posts, including Joshua, the severely injured one, and the ship was bustling with activity. The cargo had been stored in the ship's holds and the Havets Perle was finally ready to leave the port of Bodø. Morten was scaling fresh salmon while Lyra was busy peeling vegetables, a task she now mastered perfectly, when the floor of the boat began to tremble. She stopped in her activity and, standing up, stammered to the cook:
"I just need to... do something urgent. I'll be back quickly."
Morten raised an disgruntled eyebrow, but it seemed to Lyra that he understood what was going on. He let the young woman and her dæmon leave the kitchen, a knowing smile hidden beneath his thick mustache. Lyra and Pan swiftly climbed the three floors of the central building with long strides. They passed by the wheelhouse, where Mette and Hassan were busy, before climbing a ladder that led to the roof. There, they found Kirjava and Will leaning against the railing, turning towards them. The young man reached out his arm to welcome Lyra into his embrace.
"I wanted you to see this", he said, gesturing towards outer side.
It was then that she discovered the city of Bodø from a new perspective. As the ship advanced through the channel, the city receded. Bathed in the golden rays of the sun, it shimmered with a thousand lights, nestled against the tall walls of the mountains, giants of stone, ice and forests, that dipped their grassy feet into the clear waters of the fjord. Lyra could make out the perpetually bustling market, the red houses lining the water, and the port teeming with vehicles and boats. Before her eyes, the landscape slowly faded into a collection of blue shadows dotted with colorful spots.
"Now, look here," Will added, inviting her to turn around. "This is my favorite moment."
Beneath their feet, the dull rumbling of the machinery ceased, and, with a loud snap, the large sails were unfurled, instantly billowing with the powerful northern wind. Lyra surrendered herself to contemplation, gently leaning against Will's encompassing body. She felt like she was in the right place.
The ship's speakers, scattered here and there on the boat, crackled, and the captain's voice emerged:
"Off we go, kids, heading to Iceland. We estimate a three-day journey. We'll dock in Reykjavík for 24 hours before setting off for New France. Safe travels to all, and thank you."
The journey went smoothly. Everyone was at their posts, the sea was calm, and everything was going well. Lyra found herself getting more involved in the kitchen, adapting to Morten's rythm as he helped her perfect the techniques he taught her, always remaining calm in the face of her unbridled impatience. They had dropped the formalities and now called each other by their first names. And then, there was Will. Daytime Will, who dedicated himself to his role as a doctor, who made a habit of coming to the kitchen for a mid-morning coffee "just to chat", always serious and committed. Nighttime Will, a devouring lover, enamored, unable to be without her, just as she couldn't be without him. It was dizzying, and Lyra felt good, incredibly good.
On the morning of the third day, she opened her eyes feeling Will stirring and stretching beside her. Noticing that she was awake, he lowered his gaze and saw that her eyes were shining a little brighter than usual.
"Good morning", he said softly.
Lyra snuggled against him and, never breaking eye contact, said:
"Happy summer solstice, Will."
June 21st had arrived, and the sun would not set for the entire day. He held her tightly and whispered in return:
"Happy summer solstice, Lyra."
It was a special day, it had always been a special day for the past seven years.
"Did you keep up with the ritual?" he asked quietly.
"Of course! I never missed a summer. Actually, I would often go sit on our bench. When I needed calm, comfort, you... And you?"
"Same..." he replied, tenderly stroking her arm. "At first, I went there every day. Then it faded as life resumed its course, and I had to go with the flow. But yes, I would go back whenever I could." He chuckled and had "I even carved a small "L+W" on the left armrest."
"Me too!" exclaimed Lyra. "But on the right, not the left."
They laughed at this happy coincidence that wasn't really one.
"I never thought I would be able to experience this again one day..." Lyra whispered, moved by obvious emotion.
"Neither did I. If you only knew... I searched for you wherever I could."
They embraced, their two rapidly beating hearts joining together to start this very special day in the right way.
The Havets Perle docked a few hours later at the port of Reykjavík, and Mette's voice echoed through the speakers in the kitchen where Lyra and Morten were tidying up the remains of breakfast.
"We've arrived safely, well done. We'll stay here for 24 hours, enjoy the festivities."
"What festivities?" Lyra asked.
"Midsommerdag, of course!" the sailor replied , taking off his apron. "Have you ever experienced the summer solstice celebrations in the North?"
"No. I've been there several times, but never during the summer."
"It's a unique moment, and the Icelanders know how to celebrate it properly! You should go and enjoy it."
Just then, Will stuck his head through the doorway, carrying Lyra's bag and jacket.
"Are you ready?" he asked. "Shall we go?"
Lyra jumped to her feet, threw her apron onto the countertop, and she and Pan joined the young man and Kirjava, bidding farewell to Morten.
The city of Reykjavík was indeed adorned with vibrant colors for the celebration. Between its white houses with colorful roofs, hundreds of fabric garlands in bright hues were stretched, swaying in the wind. The streets were bustling with people dressed in vibrant and elegant attire, happily strolling on the charcoal-colored cobblestones. Children chased each other, waving colored banners in their hands. Men and women in traditional costumes danced hand in hand, singing and laughing as they roamed the streets to the cheerful rhythms played by the musicians. A group of women approached Lyra, placing a crown of wildflowers on her head, similar to the ones they were all wearing. The locals popped bottles of aquavit and foamy beers, set up stalls, hung bouquets, and served steaming fish balls and slices of dark bread topped with fresh cheeses and vegetables. The mood was gentle and joyful, the sky a brilliant blue, and our two lovers joyfully embraced the festive atmosphere.
A hand emerged from the crowd, grabbing Lyra's arm, causing her to nearly choke on the fish skewer she was earnestly devouring. Surprised, she turned to find herself face to face with...
"Louise?!"
The French woman was indeed there, her arm in a sling, her dense ebony hair perpetually held back by a vibrant scarf, and Adolias, her dæmon, perched on her shoulder, gleefully chirping. They fell into each other's arms, laughing, followed by Tomas, who hugged Lyra tightly. Will, standing behind them, was taken aback by these unexpected displays of affection. Lyra turned to him to introduce her two friends.
"Will! These are Louise and Tomas, I've told you about them!"
Upon hearing the young man's name, Tomas stepped forward and vigorously shook his hand.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, "The lover from the North! Here he is!"
Will looked at him with perplexity, and Lyra shook her head, feeling embarrassed.
"Excuse him," Louise interjected, extending her hand to Will. "That's just how he is. I'm delighted to meet you!"
"Likewise! Lyra has told me a lot about you and your network. I'm impressed!"
The French woman rewarded him with a grateful smile.
"What are you doing here?" Lyra asked.
"I think you already know," her friend replied with a mysterious smile. "Come with us! There's someone you should meet."
Lyra, though eternally curious, felt a bit hesitant, but Louise was already pulling her through the crowd. She cast a worried glance at Pantalaimon; they were starting to become familiar with the woman's stubborn nature. They arrived at an inn with yellow walls, adorned with a metal sign depicting a cheerful, hat-wearing pig. Louise opened the wide door, decorated with fresh flowers, and a warm scent of hops, sweat, and grilled food wafted out of the room. The place was packed, and they barged in the midst of thunderous ovations.
"Oh, zut, he's finished," muttered Louise.
The assembly was applauding a man standing on a table in the center of the room. Carefully combed white hair crowned his round and jovial face, which was furnished with an elegant mustache with lacquered curls. His piercing eyes sparkled behind a pair of round glasses. He had evidently delivered a speech that had ignited his audience. By his side stood his proud-looking fox dæmon.
"This is the man I wanted you to meet!" Louise shouted into Lyra's ear to overcome the surrounding noise. "He's an important member of the Starling Network."
Lyra observed the man for a moment as he descended from his improvised podium. Dressed in a very stylish dark blue three-piece suit, he looked anything but the image she had of a revolutionary. Louise pulled Lyra through the crowd to meet him, leaving Will and Tomas behind. The latter invited the young man to lean against the bar with him.
"Who's that man?" Will asked, accepting the beer Tomas handed him.
"Marcel Février. He's one of the founders of the Starling Network and, therefore, Louise's mentor. I wouldn't be surprised if they're trying to convince Lyra to participate or even speak up."
"Lyra? Why is it so important she's involved?"
"Because of the prophecy, of course! Oh, don't give me that look, we're well aware of it. Lyra asked us not to say too much, so we're being very careful, no worries. But Louise is convinced that if Lyra were to actively join, it would be a huge benefit to the movement. She has things to share, even if I understand that she's uncomfortable talking about it. It's your personal story, after all."
"What prophecy?"
Tomas looked at him for a moment, confused.
"Well..." he hesitated, "the witches' prophecy, you know... the one that said Lyra is the new Eve and all that, the one that involves both of you. No?"
"What are you talking about?" Will asked, setting down his pint, astonished.
"Okay, no, nope, nein, I drank too much. Sorry, it's really not my place to tell you this."
He stood up, but Will grabbed his arm, urging him to stay seated, and stared at him closely. Tomas had both said too much and not enough.
A little further away, Pan, perched on Lyra's shoulder, witnessed the scene and urged her to pay attention to what was happening at the bar. Lyra, engrossed in the conversation with Marcel Février and Louise, glanced over at Will and was stunned to see he turned pale and looking terrified as he stared at Tomas, who was carried away in a speech she couldn't hear. Will cast a panicked look at her. Then she saw someone approach the two men and whisper something in Tomas' ears who added something to Will, whose anxious expression turned into a sense of urgency. Together, they got up and headed towards them.
"I'm sorry, Marcel," Tomas interrupted, grabbing Louise by the shoulder and pushing her towards an exit, "We have to go. You too, actually."
Without a word, Will had taken Lyra's hand, squeezing it tighter than usual, as they hurriedly followed the trio.
"What's happening?" she asked.
"Apparently, agents of the Magisterium are around and inspecting the festive areas," Will replied without looking at her. "It's risky for Louise, this Marcel Février, and... you. The rest of the participants shouldn't worry, I think."
The group moved quickly through a dark alley. Voices echoed behind them.
"You there ! Stop !"
Louise turned around and muttered a swearword in her language. They were being followed by two men in uniform accompanied by their Doberman dæmons.
"There, the crowd!" Marcel Février's dæmon exclaimed, pointing with her snout to the square they were approaching.
The Midsummer festival was a blessing. A large number of people crowded the main square of Reykjavík. In the center, a large bonfire had been erected, and the crowd was starting to gather around it. The small group merged with the swarm and disappeared from the sight of the two Magisterium agents. Everyone wore a triumphant smile on their faces, congratulating themselves for easily fooling the clumsy agents. Everyone, except for Will, who kept his jaw clenched and still hadn't looked at Lyra. She positioned herself in front of him.
"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.
"Nothing. We'll talk about it later."
Outraged by his response, Lyra took him by the arm and, cutting through the increasingly dense crowd, led him away. They stopped at the entrance of a dead-end street where the noise of the festival had subsided to a dull murmur. The door of a pub opened onto the alley, allowing snippets of voices to seep out, and several chairs and tables were piled up beside it. Lyra crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for Will to speak. He paced back and forth while Kirjava followed him, rubbing against his legs anxioussly.
"Will", pleaded the cat, "calm down."
"I'm perfectly calm," retorted the young man.
Despite his words, his tense body conveyed the opposite message. He saw his dæmon, who had approached Pan and wrapped her agile body around him, as if signaling her human to be vigilant and not get carried away. He took a long breath and then fixed his dark, and worried eyes on Lyra.
"I have to ask you something important. I need you to be completely honest with me, okay?"
She nodded, alarmed by his demeanor.
"Are you aware of a... prophecy? About you, about... us?"
Lyra suddenly realized that Will had been in the dark all along, and her blood ran cold. Faced with her silence, the young man let out a bitter laugh.
"So it's true, then? And you thought you'd tell me one day or..."
"I thought you knew too..."
"And how was I supposed to find out, tell me? I don't have witches or a resistance network in my world to reveal things to me! Besides, why do people I don't even know are more aware about things that concern me, that concern US?!"
"I thought Mary..."
"Because Mary knows?!" Will exclaimed.
"Well, she even had a role..."
"What?! Oh come on…"
A simmering anger grew within him, and his entire body trembled. He placed his hand on his stomach and took a deep breath to calm himself. He needed to know, even though deep down he wasn't ready for the truth and its consequences, and looked at Lyra intensely.
"How long have you known?"
"I'm not sure. I think I found out maybe 2 years, 2 and a half years after we parted ways. Serafina Pekkala came to see me and told me everything. She thought I would be better able to move on if I knew. She also said that some clans of witches had decided to tell this story, my story, our story and that the Magisterium would likely come after me again. She preferred that I hear it from her rather than through rumors."
"So, you didn't know before we met?"
"What?! Of course not!"
Will let out a deep sigh of relief, and his limbs instantly relaxed. He sank into the nearest chair, burying his head in his hands. Lyra, however, remained reserved.
"What would it have changed if I had always been aware?" she asked.
"It would have changed everything, Lyra..." Will replied, shaking his head sadly.
As she remained unresponsive, he took her hands to draw her closer to him.
"I have never doubted you, and I won't ever doubt you, okay?"
"I feel like you did have some doubts," she said, affected.
"No, look. I'm sorry. It's just that... I panicked. Tomas started telling me things, and I couldn't think clearly anymore. Everything became muddled in my head. I couldn't believe that you could have known everything even before we met. It would have... it would have broken my heart forever, I think, to the point of never recovering..."
There was a moment of silence, and he added:
"I need to hear it. I need you to tell me, in your own words."
Lyra recoiled slightly, alarmed by his request.
"Now?"
"I need it, Lyra. You can't leave me like this, with just what Tomas told me. I don't even know if he said everything or if what he said is correct. Please."
He stared at her intensely, and she felt a tightness in her throat. Ruminating over all of it, Serafina's words, everything she had understood and everything she didn't understand, everything she had buried within herself to allow for a normal life—it was difficult to do. Pan nudged her leg with his head to encourage her. She owed it to Will, who had left his own world to find her when all hope seemed lost. So she pulled a chair to sit beside him, placed her hands in his, and began to recount. She started by explaining what he might already know: the Authority, the Magisterium, and it desire to destroy Dust, which was considered as pure sin. Then she continued, carefully choosing her words, to explain what she had understood from the prophecy. That she, Lyra Belacqua, known as Lyra Silvertongue, had to make a choice that would change the world, that she had to bring back freedom and free will, and for that, she would fall and that's when Will would intervene. Finally, she revealed to him what he truly didn't know. That the weak, old being he had freed from its prison with the Subtle Knife was none other than the Authority itself. As she unraveled her narrative, Will kept a stern expression, his eyes fixed on her, absorbing every words, trying to organize and comprehend them.
"When Serafina Pekkala came to reveal everything to me, I had never been so angry," she continued in a somber voice. "I must have been fifteen or sixteen. I was too young to know such things. It's too heavy to bear, especially at an age when everything is still being built. I resented her deeply and said very harsh words... I haven't seen her since then, and our communication is limited to Kaisa..."
"And now?" he asked.
She placed her hands around his anxious face.
"Now, I've stored that anger into a little box and buried it deep within me. And you should do the same. What's in the past belongs in the past and has no place in the present."
"It's never healthy to bury..."
"Perhaps, but I refuse to let it surface and ruin everything. Especially not now."
"Kaisa's words make more sense now," Will added thoughtfully. "Are you really that powerful? Can you change the course of things like that?"
"I don't know, I don't really care," she sighed. "I don't want to think about it... How do you feel?"
Will shrugged. He was trying to process everything he had learned, but it was overwhelming. Lyra appeared to him in a new light, and he had no idea how to handle it all. His mind was in turmoil.
"I'll need some time to deal with all of this, I think."
He pressed his forehead against hers as she placed her cool fingers against his neck. They remained like that for long minutes, in silence. The clamor of the joyful crowd and the festive music echoed in the distance, but Will heard nothing but the rapid beating of Lyra's heart resonating between them. He lifted his face and observed her. His internal storm had subsided, but for how long? He felt seized by a raw emotion that lodged itself in his stomach. Pantalaimon came to rub against him, as if trying to reassure him.
"Listen," Lyra began in a calm and serious voice, "I understand better than anyone what's going on in your head right now. I know it's difficult to comprehend and accept. Even I don't fully grasp or know everything. But we're together to overcome all of this, okay? The love I have for you isn't dictated by a prophecy. It's real and genuine, and I need you to believe me on that completely."
The features of the young man's face relaxed as she spoke. He leaned in to tenderly kiss her.
"Of course I believe you."
She smiled, her eyes filled with emotion, and took his hand.
"Shall we go back? It would be silly to miss out on all of this, wouldn't it?"
When they returned to the square, they didn't immediately find Louise and her companions. It was when they heard a whistle behind them that they noticed the trio had settled at a table in a terrace of a pub and were waiting for them.
"Is everything alright?" Louise inquired.
Lyra nodded as she sat down and cast a derogatory glance towards Tomas, who grimaced. The man called Marcel Février leaned towards Lyra. He still had the same intense sparkle in his eyes.
"Have you considered my proposal, Mademoiselle Silvertongue?" he asked in a strong french accent.
"Not yet, Monsieur Février. I still need to think it over. I'll give you my answer tomorrow morning if that suits you. We'd like to enjoy the celebration."
Février nodded in understanding and then raised his arm to hail a passing waiter.
"Garçon, your finest Tokay, please! I want to celebrate our meeting and, hopefully, a future collaboration."
When midnight struck, the grand bonfire burst into flames under the pale sun and the cries of joy. It officially marked the end of the bountiful days of eternal sunlight, giving way to the shortening days. The crowd sang and danced around the blaze, some tossing the flowers they had in their hair or hands. Tomas explained that by doing so, they thanked nature for providing them with fruitful days to prepare for the dark season. Will tried to set aside what he had learned just moments ago to enjoy the festivities. Nevertheless, when he watched Lyra dance and laugh wholeheartily, he couldn't help but feel worried. Hundreds of questions fought in his mind. Was she constantly in danger? Was there more to this prophecy? How could she live with such a burden on her shoulders? But when she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, laughing, everything seemed simpler and clearer. They would face the trials together, as they always had.
They returned to the ship in the early hours of the morning, joyful and slightly drunk. Lyra's flower crown, hung on the handle of their cabin, signaled to anyone who understood their desire for privacy and tranquility.