The room was dimly lit, the late evening sun casting long shadows across the stone walls. The air felt still, heavy with a quiet tension that hung between them like an unspoken truth. Marisa lay back against the pillows, her body weak and trembling from exhaustion, but her eyes were wide, locked on the small, fragile figure in her arms.
Lyra had just been born. A tiny, perfect life now bound them together in a way neither could deny. Marisa's heart raced with a confusing mix of emotions—fear, joy, sadness, and a creeping sense of inevitability. She looked down at her daughter, her mind spinning with thoughts of what the future held, of what dangers lay ahead.
The faintest cry escaped from Lyra, soft and delicate, as Marisa traced her features. But with each second, as the reality of the situation settled deeper into her chest, she couldn't escape the nagging thought that Edward would know. He would see it as clearly as she did now. The resemblance to Asriel was undeniable.
Asriel stood nearby, silent, watching. His imposing presence filled the room, though his expression remained unreadable. He hadn't said much since Lyra's arrival, but the weight of his thoughts was evident. The moment was supposed to be one of joy, but instead, it was thick with the fear of what was to come.
Marisa swallowed hard, knowing she had to say the words that had been on her mind since the moment Lyra was born.
Barely above a whisper, Marisa spoke to Asreil her voice tired yet sharp with worry "Edward will know… he'll know she's yours."
Asriel stands beside her, his expression unreadable, his gaze fixed on the newborn. There's a long pause, the weight of her words hanging in the air.
Quietly, Asriel replied, "Does it matter? He already suspects."
Marisa turned her head slightly, her eyes heavy with exhaustion but burning with concern.
With a shaky breath, Marisa said what they both feared, "It does matter. You know what he'll do, what they'll all do."
Asriel's jaw tightened, the gravity of the situation clear in his silence. He knew the risk, but there was also something unspoken in the way he looked at Lyra—a hint of pride mixed with the cold reality of their world.
Marisa's voice faltered for a moment, barely holding back her emotion. "She'll never be safe… not with the world knowing I'm her mother, and you her father."
Asriel stepped closer, his presence both reassuring and distant, as he placed a hand gently on Marisa's arm instead.
Asriel spoke firmly, almost detached. "We'll protect her. But you need to be careful, Marisa."
Marisa stared down at Lyra, her expression softening with a mix of love and fear as she held her daughter close.
"She's so much like you," Marisa whispered, mostly to herself.
Asriel remained silent, knowing there was nothing more to say. The danger was real, and they both understood what was at stake.
The silence in the room was suffocating, the weight of their shared predicament pressing down on them. Asriel, still standing close to Marisa and Lyra, finally spoke.
"I have estates. We could go—disappear. I could hide both of you somewhere safe, away from all this. No one would ever have to know."
Marisa turned her head slowly, her gaze narrowing as his words sank in. The offer, though tempting in a way, felt impossible.
"You think we could just vanish? Disappear into one of your estates?" she asked, shaking her head, her voice firm but weary.
Asriel met her gaze, his face unreadable. He was trying to calculate, to fix things the only way he knew how.
"It's safer than staying here. Safer than you taking her home. Edward… the Magisterium, they'd never find you."
Marisa let out a bitter, hollow laugh, the sound catching in her throat.
"You don't know them like I do. Edward wouldn't stop. The Magisterium wouldn't stop."
Her voice grew quieter but filled with conviction.
"They would hunt me down. You know they would." Marisa said as a tear fell down her cheek.
Asriel took a step toward her, his brow furrowed. He wanted to argue, but he knew there was truth in her words. Disappearing was never an option for someone like Marisa. Too many eyes were watching, too many had vested interests in keeping her under control.
Asriels voice strained, frustrated by the impossible situation. "So what then? What do we do?"
Marisa's gaze dropped to the tiny, sleeping form of Lyra in her arms, her voice barely a whisper.
"We don't disappear. I can't run from them, Asriel. But I can't stay with her either. Not like this. Not with Edward breathing down my neck."
Asriel's face darkened, knowing the truth of it but hating every word. He stood silent, torn between wanting to fight for his daughter and knowing that Marisa's reasoning was sound.
Marisa, her voice breaking with emotion "We'll have to give her up… you'll have to make it look like she's nothing. Just another child."
The finality of her words settled between them, both knowing that they had no other choice. They couldn't run, they couldn't hide. And so, the decision was made.
Asriel his tone sharp, anger rising. "I would never give her up Marisa. She is ours. And you what, you just won't be in her life? You won't be a mother?"
Marisa flinched slightly at his words, but her arms instinctively tightened around Lyra, holding her close. Her face remained distant, her emotions locked away. She couldn't afford to feel—not now, not when the decision was being made.
Marisa replied, her voice cold, detached. "I'm not equipped."
Asriel's eyes widened in disbelief, his voice sharp as he watched her cradle their child.
"Not equipped? You're holding her right now, Marisa. She's yours—our daughter!"
Marisa glanced down at Lyra, her fingers gently tracing her daughter's soft features. But her expression remained unchanged, her voice devoid of emotion.
Marisa: "I know what and who she is."
"Then how can you just sit there, holding her, and say you can't be her mother?" Asriel snapped back, frustration boiling over.
Marisa's grip tightened around Lyra, but her gaze remained distant. It was easier to shut everything out.
"I can't be what she needs. Not with everything else. You know that."
Asriel stared at her, his chest heaving with the weight of his anger. He took a step back, running a hand through his hair in frustration, his voice quieter but filled with disappointment.
"So you're just going to walk away?"
Marisa looked down at Lyra again, her arms still wrapped around the tiny, sleeping child. But there was no softness in her gaze now, just the cold, hard truth she had accepted or rather, forced herself to accept.
"And what exactly are you going to tell Edward? He thinks she's his, doesn't he?"
Marisa's grip on Lyra tightened as the weight of her decision pressed harder on her chest. She had anticipated this moment, rehearsed the lie she would tell in her mind again and again. It was the only way to protect Lyra—and herself.
Marisa, quiet but firm, told Asriel, "I'm going to tell him the baby didn't make it."
Asriel blinked, his face hardening as the reality of her words sank in. His voice grew sharper, incredulous.
"You're going to tell him she's dead?"
Marisa nodded, her expression resolute. "She looks just like you, Asriel. There is no hiding it. Edward's been away for more than half of the pregnancy, handling Magisterium business. He won't question it."
Asriel's gaze flicked to the tiny form of Lyra in Marisa's arms, his jaw clenched. The idea of pretending his daughter was dead didn't sit well with him. There was a bitter taste in his mouth, but he knew better than anyone how far Marisa was willing to go to protect herself.
"And he'll believe that?" Asriel's voice was low, filled with disbelief
Marisa's eyes locked with Asriel's, her voice steady as she spoke. "He won't have a choice. He wasn't here. He'll believe what I tell him because he has to."
Asriel shook his head slightly, his frustration clear, but there was also a strange kind of respect in his gaze. Marisa was doing what she always did—surviving, no matter the cost. But the thought of burying the truth like this, of letting Edward think his child was gone, twisted something inside him.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Marisa."
Marisa's voice softened slightly, but the steel remained beneath her words. "I know but… It's the only way, Asriel. Edward can never know."
The tension between them was palpable, each word carrying the weight of the impossible choices they had to make. Marisa's gaze flickered from Lyra to Asriel, her voice steady but laced with the cold reality of what needed to happen. "I have to be back in London within the week."
Asriel's eyes darkened, the brief moment of disbelief giving way to something harder, more resolute. He stepped closer, his voice calm but cutting. "No. You've got 48 hours, Marisa. Forty-eight hours with her."
Marisa's body stiffened, her arms tightening around Lyra, but she didn't speak. Asriel's next words fell like a hammer, cold and final.
"If you don't change your mind by then… she'll never know you. I'll make sure of it."
Marisa's face didn't change, her expression growing colder, more distant. She had been preparing for this moment, shutting down everything that made her vulnerable. The emotions she had briefly allowed to surface were slipping away, replaced by a wall of detachment. It was easier this way—easier to let go.
Asriel watched her, frustration tightening in his chest as he saw her retreat into herself. He knew that look—the same look she had given him so many times before when things became too much. But this time, it was different. This time, it wasn't just about them. It was about Lyra.
"You'll regret this, Marisa. You know you will."
But Marisa didn't respond. She simply looked down at Lyra, her face unreadable, distant. Asriel waited for something—anything—but there was nothing left to say. Marisa had already begun to close herself off, her mind somewhere far away.
"Fine." He turned away from her, the frustration and bitterness still evident in the tension of his movements. Without another word, Asriel left the room, leaving Marisa alone with their daughter, the weight of his ultimatum hanging heavily in the air.
As Marisa lay there, holding Lyra tightly against her chest, a quiet stillness settled over the room. The soft, rhythmic breathing of her daughter, the warmth of her skin, made it harder for Marisa to keep her emotions at bay. She could feel herself retreating, shutting down, the walls slowly building up around her heart to protect her from the pain.
But then, across the room, her golden monkey stirred. His grip loosened slightly on Lyra's dæmon, and he looked up, his dark eyes locking with Marisa's.
In that single glance, everything shifted.
The connection between them, so often unspoken, was now undeniable. The golden monkey's gaze was filled with a quiet understanding, a reflection of all the feelings Marisa had tried so hard to push away. The fear, the sadness, the love—it all came rushing back, overwhelming her in a tidal wave of emotion.
Marisa's breath hitched, her chest tightening as she felt the weight of everything she had been trying to pack away. The carefully constructed walls she had built crumbled in an instant, leaving her exposed and raw. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she closed them tightly, feeling the warmth of Lyra against her heart, the one connection she wasn't ready to let go of.
For the first time since Lyra's birth, Marisa allowed herself to feel it all. The love she had for her daughter, the unbearable sadness of knowing she would have to give her up, the fear of what would come next. It was all there, crashing over her in waves, and for once, she didn't try to stop it.
The golden monkey remained still, watching her, sharing in the pain she felt. He didn't move, didn't make a sound, but the bond between them was stronger than ever. In his gaze, Marisa found the strength to hold on, if only for this brief moment.
As Marisa lay there holding Lyra, she spoke softly, her voice barely above a whisper. The room was still, her words meant only for her daughter.
"I do love you. Lyra, my darling, you are mine… You will always be mine. Edward would see you harmed. Asriel, your father, he will protect you. I know he will."
Marisa paused for a moment, her thoughts drifting back to the North, to the very beginning.
"From the first night I met your father, two and a half years ago, I fell in love with him. It was at a party at the Arctic Institute, from the moment he asked me to dance I knew he and I were supposed to be together. The North has always felt like part of our story, a place that ties us together. One day I hope the three of us could be in the North together."
Her voice grew softer, filled with emotion. "Remember this, Lyra—you were made from love, and of love. You're not just a consequence of circumstance. You are the result of something deeper, something that still connects your father and me, even now. You will be and are extraordinary."
Marisa gently kissed Lyra's forehead, her lips lingering for a moment, as though she could somehow hold onto this moment forever.
Outside the door, Asriel stood with Stelmaria by his side, having heard every word. He was frozen in place, his heart tightening with each word Marisa spoke. His anger, which had been simmering just moments before, began to ebb away, replaced by a deep, aching sadness. Hearing Marisa speak with such tenderness to their daughter made something inside him soften.
Her words echoed in his mind—"Asriel, your father, he will protect you." She trusted him, even now, to keep Lyra safe. And he would. No matter the cost, he would protect their daughter.
In that moment, Asriel remembered that it wasn't just Marisa's intelligence or ambition that had captivated him all those years ago. It was her ability to love, her care, and the way she made him feel understood and cherished. Even now, her words revealed a tenderness he had always admired but rarely saw. Unknown to him, the love he gave her had kept her from shutting down completely.
He stood there for a long time, listening, his heart filled with both love and sorrow. He knew that moments like this—moments of raw vulnerability—were rare, and they were slipping away faster than he could hold onto them.
Finally, with a heavy heart, he turned and walked away, leaving Marisa and Lyra to their moment of peace.
Hours passed, and the quiet stillness of the room remained undisturbed. Marisa had drifted into a light sleep, still holding Lyra close to her chest, their warmth intertwined. The golden monkey had moved onto the bed curled into the nook of Marisa's legs, his arms still wrapped protectively around Pantalaimon, who lay curled up beside him, the two dæmons sharing the same quiet peace.
Asriel returned quietly, stepping into the room with the faintest of footsteps. His gaze softened as he took in the sight before him—the love of his life, Marisa, holding their daughter so closely, both of them lost in the same fragile moment of calm. It was a rare glimpse into a life they could never have, a vision of what could have been.
Marisa's face, usually so guarded, was soft, safe and peaceful in her sleep, the cold detachment she often wore nowhere to be seen. Lyra was nestled against her, breathing softly, oblivious to the weight of the world that loomed over them.
Asriel's heart tightened at the sight. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to feel the same bittersweet mix of love and sorrow that had overtaken Marisa earlier. He knew that moments like these were fleeting—ephemeral—and that they both would have to face the harsh realities of their decisions soon enough.
Without thinking, Asriel stepped back out of the room, his footsteps hurried but quiet. Moments later, he returned, a small camera in hand. He lifted it, his hands steady as he framed the shot. The image of Marisa and Lyra, with the golden monkey cradling Pantalaimon, was one he knew he could never share.
He pressed the button, the camera clicking softly in the quiet room, capturing a moment that would remain locked away—hidden from the world.
As he lowered the camera, Asriel's expression grew thoughtful, his mind racing with the knowledge that if Marisa ever found out about the photograph, she would demand he destroy it. She would never allow such a tender moment to exist beyond this room, not with everything they were about to lose.
And yet, Asriel couldn't bring himself to destroy it. Not yet. For now, it was a small reminder of what they had, even if it was fleeting. He turned and left the room once more, the photograph tucked away as a secret he would carry alone.
As he stepped into the quiet hallway, his mind churned with thoughts he had long tried to bury. Losing Marisa wasn't just losing a lover; it was losing the one person who had truly understood him in ways no one else ever could. Their connection had been more than just intellectual, more than just passion—it had been real, and now it was slipping away.
But as he glanced down at the photograph, the one he could never share, he realized that not all was lost. Lyra. She was a piece of Marisa, a small fragment of the woman he had loved and still loved.
In Lyra's eyes, he saw Marisa's sharp intelligence; in her soft features, her mother's beauty. Asriel knew, deep down, that Lyra was the only part of Marisa he could keep. The thought of losing both of them was unbearable, and though his path forward was filled with difficult choices, one thing was clear. Lyra was all he had left of the love they once shared.
The light filtering through the window was dim, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the room. Marisa stood at the foot of the bed, carefully folding the few clothes she had brought with her. Each movement was deliberate, precise, as if she were trying to control the storm of emotions swirling just beneath the surface.
It had been 48 hours since Asriel had given her the ultimatum. And now, the time had come.
She had made her decision, though her heart felt heavy with the weight of it. Her bags were almost packed, ready for her return to London and the life she would continue to lead without Lyra. The thought of leaving her daughter behind cut deeper than she had anticipated, but she steeled herself. This was what had to be done.
The door creaked open softly behind her. Marisa didn't turn around. She didn't need to. She knew it was Asriel.
He stepped into the room, cradling Lyra in his arms. The child had just been bathed, her cheeks pink and fresh, her hair still damp. Asriel held her carefully, as though she were the most fragile thing in the world. He approached slowly, his gaze locked on Marisa, waiting for her to say something. But she remained silent, her back to him, focusing on the task at hand.
Asriel spoke quietly, his voice calm but probing. "Have you changed your mind?"
Marisa paused, her hands hovering over the last of her belongings. She knew this moment was coming. She had rehearsed what she would say, how she would hold herself together. But now, with Asriel standing there, holding their daughter, it all felt heavier than she had expected.
Marisa stood still for a moment, her back to Asriel, her hands resting on the edge of her suitcase. She knew this was it—her last chance to hold her daughter. The weight of the decision she had made pressed down on her chest, and for a fleeting moment, she almost faltered. But she had to stay strong. She had no choice.
Slowly, Marisa turned to face Asriel. Her eyes softened as they landed on Lyra, freshly bathed, wrapped in a soft blanket, cradled against Asriel's chest. The sight of them together stirred something deep within her—a mixture of love and sorrow that threatened to break through the cold composure she had worked so hard to maintain.
Marisa's voice was soft, almost a whisper, but steady. Quietly, her words filled with a longing she couldn't quite hide. "Can I hold her, please?"
Asriel's gaze shifted slightly, watching her closely. He had expected something else—an argument, maybe, or a final refusal. But not this. There was a moment of hesitation, but then, without a word, he stepped forward and gently placed Lyra into Marisa's waiting arms.
Asriel stood still, watching as Marisa held Lyra close. The silence stretched between them, heavy with everything that had been left unsaid. But Asriel wasn't finished. He stepped forward, his voice firm but quieter now, pressing her again. "Have you changed your mind, Marisa?"
Marisa didn't look up immediately. Her focus remained on Lyra, her heart aching as she cradled her daughter one last time. But she knew the answer, the decision she had already made. Her voice was steady, though there was a trace of pain in it. "Asriel, having me as her mother threatens her safety. I will not compromise that. Look how I was raised. I cannot be a mother to her."
Asriel's jaw tightened, the weight of her words settling in. He had hoped—maybe even expected—that she would change her mind. But now, he knew she wouldn't. He took a step closer, his voice low and final. "Then this is it, Marisa. This is the last time. Do not write, do not look for her. She will never know you. This will be the choice you make."
Marisa looked up at him sharply, her eyes flashing with a mix of pain and defiance. She bit back the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her, her voice cutting through the tension in the room.
"I am aware of the consequences, Asriel."
Asriel held her gaze for a moment, the tension thick between them. Then, with a resigned sigh, he bent down and picked up Marisa's suitcase and purse. "You can carry her to the front door."
They moved as one, though the distance between them felt wider than ever. Their dæmons led the way, Pantalaimon curled protectively in the golden monkey's arms, while Stelmaria walked silently beside them. As they left the room, Asriel followed closely behind, carrying Marisa's bags.
Marisa paused as they reached the doorway—the threshold of the room where she had made the most important decision of her life. Her heart pounded in her chest as she took one final, deep breath. She leaned down and gently kissed Lyra's forehead, her lips lingering for just a moment, as if imprinting the memory onto her heart.
Without a word, she straightened and stepped through the doorway, carrying Lyra down the stairs, each step heavy with the weight of the choice she had made.
As they reached the front door, Marisa stood still, cradling Lyra in her arms. The air was cool, and the quiet of the estate wrapped around them like a heavy cloak. Asriel stepped forward, taking Marisa's suitcase and purse in hand. Without a word, he walked outside to load them into the car they had shared and kept hidden for her secret visits to his estate.
Marisa stayed behind, her heart aching as she savoured these final, fleeting moments with her daughter. She looked down at Lyra, her voice barely above a whisper, soft and full of love. "I love you more than the stars in the north, Lyra."
Lyra stirred gently in her arms, her tiny form resting peacefully against her mother's chest. Marisa closed her eyes, letting the moment linger just a little longer, knowing that this was the last time she would ever hold her daughter like this.
The door opened again, and Asriel returned, his presence filling the room once more. He stepped toward Marisa, his eyes locked on her as he reached out to take Lyra from her arms. There was no anger in his gaze now, only a quiet sadness and understanding.
As he gently took Lyra into his arms, he looked at Marisa, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "I do love you, Marisa. And I always will."
For a moment, they stood there, eyes locked, the weight of everything they had been through hanging between them. Then, slowly, Asriel leaned forward, and Marisa met him halfway. Their lips brushed together in a final, lingering kiss—one filled with all the love, regret, and sorrow they could not express in words.
When they parted, the silence returned, heavy and unbreakable. Marisa bent down, reaching for her dæmon, who had been sitting quietly at her feet. She lifted the golden monkey into her arms, holding him close as she took a step closer to Asriel and Lyra.
The golden monkey reached out carefully, his small hands cradling Pantalaimon as he gently placed the tiny dæmon on Lyra's chest. Pantalaimon curled up against her, resting peacefully as if to provide a final, silent connection between mother and child.
Marisa took one last, lingering look at her daughter, committing every detail of Lyra's tiny face to memory. The warmth of Lyra's presence still clung to her, but Marisa knew she couldn't hold onto it. With a quiet sigh, she turned and walked toward the front door, each step heavier than the last.
As she reached the door, she paused, her heart catching in her chest for a brief moment. Then, with a final breath, she stepped outside and gently shut the door behind her.
Upon hearing the lock, she straightened, her back stiffening, and she began the process she knew so well—locking her feelings away. Everything she had allowed herself to feel in those final moments—the love, the sorrow, the tenderness—was quickly packed away, sealed in neat, unbreakable boxes. She couldn't afford to hold onto them. Not now.
Without looking back, Marisa walked down the steps, her dæmon by her side, moving toward the car where Asriel had placed her suitcase and purse. The cold air bit at her skin, but she didn't feel it. She couldn't feel anything anymore.
As she reached the car and slid into the driver's seat, her mind drifted to something Maggie Costa had once told her—a piece of advice that had lingered with her for years. "When you leave a place or people you love, and want to return to them one day, always look back, and you will return."
Marisa paused, her hand gripping the steering wheel tightly. The engine was running, the road ahead of her clear, but something held her back. She hadn't looked back. She had told herself she wouldn't. But Maggie's words echoed in her mind, and for just a moment, she allowed herself to waver.
Slowly, she turned her head and looked back.
The front door stood closed, the house looming quietly behind it, holding within it the pieces of a life she was leaving behind. But looking back at it now, something stirred inside her, a small flicker of hope that maybe, one day, she could return. Maybe one day, she, Asriel and Lyra would find their way back to each other.
With a deep breath, Marisa faced forward again, her expression hardening. The door had clicked shut, and so had the chapter of her life that involved her daughter. The road ahead was long, and her feelings were once again locked tightly away.
—-
Thank you for reading She Looks Like You. This one-shot explores the complexities of Marisa's choices as a mother, and the deep, unspoken emotions between her and Asriel. Writing this piece was about delving into Marisa's struggle to protect Lyra, even at the cost of her own heart, and the quiet, bittersweet moments that come with saying goodbye.
The relationship between Marisa, Asriel, and Lyra has always fascinated me—their love for each other is complicated, full of pain, but it's real. In this story, I wanted to explore how that love, even when fractured, still remains. I hope you felt the weight of Marisa's decision and Asriel's determination to protect the one piece of Marisa he has left in Lyra.
Thank you again for your support, and I hope this story gave you a glimpse into the emotional world of these characters.
Happy reading!