#his dark materials fic

[flowerpotmage]

mist & rue

It is night in a new world, and you've lost a dear friend.

notes & etc: reader, lee scoresby, and john parry. oneshot. HDM series. canon compliant with events of book 2. ambiguous relationships. angst!! more writer commentary at the end. 584 words. on Ao3 here

It’s unreasonable to have expected your choices to take you down any other path than this. You were always going to find yourself here.

Mist touches your skin, permeating through the relatively thin layers of your clothing and down through to your bones. You’d like to say that the cold air numbs your distress, shocks you enough to calm down and jolt out of it, but… truthfully, it has little effect on why you’re here, crying and swallowing shaky gulps of air with your arms around yourself and a silver turquoise ring in your fist. You don’t notice the osprey dæmon that soars overhead.

The soft sound of familiar footsteps draws another shuddering breath into your lungs, your hand wiping shaky and surreptitiously—you hope—at your cooling tears. You want to greet him, as you normally would, but you know your voice would betray you. Although, if he’s here right now, he already knows, and you’re taking much too long to say anything anyhow, and he’d be an idiot not to know anyway—

He comes to a stop near your shoulder.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he says in that smooth, enigmatically charming voice of his. “Sayan saw you, and I thought you might appreciate an ear.”

Your dry chuckle is exceptionally soggy, and you take a deep breath to steady yourself, breathing it out through your lips with closed eyes.

“Jopari,” you greet, looking out at the foreign stars. “It has been an exceptionally trying time. I don’t think I was ready.”

“Ah,” he says, and you can hear the rueful smile in the sound. “I don’t think most of us are.”

You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “John.”

You’ve come to know him well over these last years. Sayan can journey far, that’s true, but even a shaman with a witches dæmon is reluctant to part too far with their own very self, and shamans and witches alike need unassuming individuals to be their knowing eyes and hands in far off lands. None of you would never have gotten this far otherwise. So you understand immediately.

“You knew Lee would…” your throat closes up on the words.

“I did. I'm sorry.”

The tears come fresh, the heat of the saltwater on your face due to more than mere thermodynamics. It’s as if the anger at the man by your side is finding the only escape it can, through the water of your eyes, leaving room for growing dismay.

“Come back to the camp,” he says, nothing but gentle. “You’ll catch cold and we’ve a ways to go yet.”

You turn away again, looking down at the small furry body of your dæmon by your boot.

“Ah, so I will be continuing on further?” You regret the spiteful comment as soon as it leaves your mouth.

“This is not the world you’ll stop in,” John Parry says, cryptic as ever.

You turn to face him, the stones making their small sounds underfoot. He looks at you, sharp eyes apologetic. “I know you were close with Mr. Scoresby,” he says. “If there had been another way—”

“Then we wouldn’t win, in the end, would we?”

One side of his mouth lifts, once again rueful.

You sigh, and nod. The two of you walk back to your small, humble camp, and John, Jopari, Stanislaus Grumman and all his names, sits with you in silence by the fire. Before you know it, he will be dead, and you will be left behind to tell his son about him.

---------------------------------

i have sooo much fun facts about this reader in my head all of a sudden. in my mind they were a little bit in love with lee (a longtime friend) and john (platonically? romantically? we'll never know about either of these for either fella and neither will they bc theyre kinda messed up about it all!!) and they work with john and the witches towards asriel's big plan to Kill God. yippee!!

[not-so-mundane-after-all]

Fandom: His Dark Materials

Title: You're On My Heart Just Like a Tattoo

Pairings/Relationships: Will Parry/Lyra Silvertongue

Summary:

On his eighteenth birthday, Will gets his one true love's name tattooed over his heart.

Hello, loves! This idea wouldn't leave me alone, so there you have it. Title taken from the song "Tattoo" by Jordin Sparks, this fic actually came to me while listening to it. Enjoy!

@nooowestayandgetcaught @jillcfan @therepublicofeden @kirjavasblade @ambeauty

[fern-stone]

More Will & Lyra art~ Originally was just a sketch but I coloured it to make it into a badge for myself hehe

[freuleinanna]

the lost heartbeats

golden ones so fiercely burning hearts regretting, falling, yearning Pairing: Marisa Coulter x Asriel Belacqua Short summary: A heartbeat tells a story, but when it skips, it writes a novel. Just a little something to recount the moments two people with the steadiest heartbeats felt their hearts fall (aka me sobbing over every parent moment ever). Pre-canon and canon Masriel. Word count: ~ 1600 I am not sorry, this is for my feral heretical parents & lovers 💔

~ 1 ~

It happens in the most unfascinating way possible, over dinner, when they find themselves sat across each other at the table. A young man hurries to his place, and something in the way he carries himself, pressing the all-too-new jacket to his chest while listening on the go, tells her he's used to being late to everything. He sits. He looks at her.

Her husband is by her right side and she feels the need to tug at his arm, and tug again, and quietly say 'Edward, take me away, please', then add 'I'll do something terrible if you don't'. In her mind, she does that. She goes to their room and doesn't give another thought to the young man with blue eyes so fierce as though he'd just stepped in from the cruel blizzard. In reality, her heart stops - at the faint, yet painful loss this prospect sets in her. She's somewhere between intrigued and instantly infatuated. She doesn't know his name. What foolishness.

He sits, and he forgets to listen. Someone very important is speaking about something very important, and he vaguely remembers that he'd put a lot of efforts into getting here. He wanted to listen. He forgets how to. The young woman in front of him is staring in a way people give you a side-glance just before taking their eyes off of you, yet she doesn't. Nor does he want her to. His chest is like a stone wrapped tightly in his ridiculous suit. Just for a moment, he can't breathe. Then it comes again, the familiar steady beats against the rib cage. He suddenly chokes at the free-fall emptiness preceeding them.

He doesn't fully realize where that skipped heartbeat went. It's lost somewhere between 'Edward Coulter's wife' and 'Marisa, my love', and he later finds that he had never truly reclaimed it. She stole it. He gave it away gladly. And then, again, later - when he tells a stupid joke to her husband and sees laughter in her eyes, and her dark hair shine with soft golden gleams like the fur of her monkey daemon.

He comes too late, as always, and she's already a Mrs. Neither of them stops at the obstacle.

~ 2 ~

Lyra is born, and she is everything like her father, and nothing like her mother's husband. Marisa will never admit that, but when she's holding her daughter in her sinful arms, prepared to reject her, she suddenly shudders at the thought. She falls, with a heart bursting out of the chest. It forgets to beat properly. Her daemon, exhausted just like her, looks at the child in helpless admiration.

 Asriel once told her that, should she want it, he'd fight for that child. He would rise and fight anything, anyone, with all his ferocity. There's always so much fight in him. She almost regrets refusing his offer.

Lyra is sleeping, while her mother, despite all her best efforts, is falling in love with her. It's like being plunged into a bottomless pit. Marisa thinks that, if that little bundle opened her eyes now and sweetly asked her to jump in an abyss, she would. She would jump in them all.

'Pantalaimon,' she whispers to the tiny mouse, clutching at her daughter's chest. Means, merciful. She's going to need all mercy after what she's about to do.

~ 3 ~

Giving Lyra away strains at her heart the same as being separated from her daemon. The same as with her daemon, Marisa doesn't show pain. Doesn't mean it's not there, in the glassy calm eyes and a thin arhythmic beating of her heart.

Asriel is furious with her, she knows, and yet he doesn't have time for their daughter either. He forbids the Master of the Jordan College to let Marisa in. She pretends she doesn't care, he pretends he doesn't give a damn about her not caring. They both hurt. Neither of them hurts enough to get them off their magnificent ambitious paths.

~ 4 ~ 

It's the worst in Bolvangar. Her dark, truly northern heart, cold through and through, simply stops at the sound of Lyra's voice.

A mother couldn't bear it. Marisa Coulter can, because she was late for motherhood just like Asriel was late for that dinner, but still, between the realization and the frantic salvation of her own child, there is nothing in her chest. Heartbeat - lost. Maybe it leapt out to Lyra. Maybe it left her actual, physical body for just a moment. She wouldn't be surprised. That girl was greedy. She loved that girl with everything she had.

That missed hearbeat feels like falling towards a sure, inevitable break.

~ 5 ~

Asriel loses his heartbeats, too. When she refuses to join him, his chest explodes inwards. He wanted her to say yes. When she paused before the answer, he already knew.

He hoped Marisa would see through him when he threatened her, and his giant, steady heart, that kept him going through snowstorms and the wilderness, stumbled helplessly when he realized that she had seen through him, indeed, but chose to stay. He felt untethered. She stood there with his heartbeat bleeding off her fingertips and looked at him like she had always done, with her constant, unbending 'Asriel, no...' dried silently on her lips. Strange how he didnt recognize the taste.

He wanted to ask for this heartbeat back. This one, she stole.

Though if he was being honest with himself, he still gave it to her gladly.

~ 6 ~

Bolvangar was not, in fact, the worst. The worst is when Marisa looks at her daughter, feeling Lyra's primal fear of her, and can't find another way to protect her except by hurting her even worse.

'Let us go,' Lyra whispers, half-asleep, because that's the thought that comes to her first when she regains consciousness. That's where they are at. Her own daughter hates her enough to beg for her freedom.

But I remember the day you were born, Marisa wants to say, blinking the raging tears away, as if it would change anything. I remember holding you, I remember loving you, I'm not as awful as you think. I'm not a monster. I love you. It's my way of loving you. She bites it right at her lips, crushing bitter words before they ever leave her mouth. Her maternal love is like barbed wire. Cuts both of them. She doesn't know how to stop.

Her heart falls silent for a fraction of a second every time Lyra looks at her with suffering, pleading eyes.

~ 7 ~

'We should have married, and brought her up ourselves.'

He blinks at the thought. She says something else, continues talking, and eventually, he manages to reply, but his mind is still caught. They should have. The should have, a relentless echo. There's a lot they should have done. They should have done everything. Her hair catch a billion tiny fires from the light, and she looks so tired, so pale and tired. He remembers the night they met, and how he thought, hungrily, joyfully: this is it. She's the one. He looks at Marisa now and still thinks the same, only with sudden doom. He wants to break something. He wants to touch her hair.

His beastly heart misses a beat, and it's like Stelmaria's claws. He looks at Marisa. He doesn't know how to say that she's right. Should-haves and what-ifs hang heavily in the air. Thorns everywhere. They can't untangle them.

~ 8 ~

Every second beat now, sometimes even every first. He thinks, he'll die. Crushing blows keep pouring down on his head and shoulders. No one can be that desperate and still alive.

Too many at once now. Heartbeats flooding out of him, and when Asriel gains enough consciouseness to understand that, he doesn't want them to go in vain. If anything, they should go to her.

'Marisa! Marisa!'

I loved you. I love you still. I'm scared. I was wrong. He doesn't care about his war anymore, nor about the angel trying to shake him down to rise and kill his daughter. Their daughter. He's just crying out her name. There's no more powerful an authority for him, than her name. He should have known that earlier.

Another beat lost. Young Mrs. Coulter laughs at his joke with her eyes, arm at her husband's elbow, beautiful hair he wants to dishevel gleam in the soft light, and he knows he's won. He knows he won't let go. He mustn't.

And for her, he doesn't.

~ 9 ~

She jumps. And it is all worth it, because, as a very wise man once told her, her life is, too, worth a mere one-tenth of her daughter's. Even less. Much less, if she's honest. Her heart falters.

One beat. She knew that abyss would find her from the day she held Lyra in her arms. She has no regrets.

Two beats. Forever falling, next to Asriel. Almost comforting. His hands are bloody and spasmed with effort. She touches them briefly as they fall.

Three beats. Young Asriel Belacqua sits across from her, and his eyes are piercing blue like she's never seen before. They will fight, she knows it even then. And she wants it anyway. In a way, they have been falling together ever since.

Four beats. Lyra's face. Her daemon holding out his paw. It allows one painful, shattering thrust into her heart. She wants to call Asriel's name to tell him that it's alright, that they did well, or just to feel his name on her tongue; but can't.

And, after that, no count is needed, because all heartbeats are lost and fall eternally around them.

[i-was-bored-so-this-happened]

Rae Writes!

Indeed she does! She writes on Tumblr, she writes on AO3, she takes requests on occasion! And here she'll link you to all of the fics she's done, with accompanying hashtags and playlists where applicable!

This will be updated as time goes on, but for now I'll be starting with my bigger fics <3

Banner by @late2000shistoricalreenactment i love youuuu

Fandoms

Primeval

The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

His Dark Materials

Baldur's Gate 3

Key

👤Original Character Fic

📄One Shot

📑One Shot Compilation

📚 Multi-Chapter

🪐Alternate Universe

🔀Crossover

Primeval

Alexandra's Evolution 👤📚

Alex Hart just wants to pass her exams. That's all she wants. To pass her exams and [eventually] get her doctorate. And she should have some advantage in that, given that her uncle is her professor’s partner. But then Connor Temple turns up with a suspicious newspaper and convinces Nick Cutter and Stephen Hart to follow him to the Forest of Dean, where a government official called Oliver Leek is waiting for them. Him, a dinosaur, and a portal to the past.

- Tumblr Links (1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-?) - AO3 Link - #alex hart - General Playlist - Linear Playlist

The Anomaly Detection Device 📑

Collection of short works written with the help of a random generator I made!

- AO3 Link - Random Generator Link

His Dark Materials

Sanchez & Scoresby 👤📚

A hot-air balloon is on its way North, to Trollesund. Far below them, on the sea, a Gyptian boat sails in the same direction. On the boat is a girl who will change the world and in the sky are two adults who will guide her to her destiny. Their paths haven’t crossed yet, but they soon will, and once they have they’ll never diverge.

- Tumblr Links (1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-?) - AO3 Link - #kit sanchez - Playlist

Opus Number One 📄

Just. Soft, chill times with Will and Lyra. Also me being a music nerd and a big fan of Will knowing how to play the piano

- AO3 Link

The Mandalorian

Second Star 👤📚

The Mandalorian finds himself in need of help. Shortly after finding the Child, he realises he isn't exactly cut out for care-taking, but he needs to keep the Child alive until he can deliver him. Luckily for him, he's found an ally in Kuiil the Ugnaught, who knows someone that might be able to help.

- Tumblr Links (1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-14-15-?) - AO3 Link - #okan the unknown - Playlist

Baldur's Gate 3

Greensleeves 👤📚

Xaph has come crashing to earth with a mind flayer tadpole embedded in her skull. She must find allies, forge friendships and brave the wilds to find a cure for the parasite, a journey which will prove even more perilous than initially expected

- Tumblr Links (1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-14-15-16-17-18-19-20-21-?) - AO3 Link - #xaph [tav] - Playlist

The Yawning Grave 👤📄

On the sixth anniversary of the defeat of the Absolute, the party - minus one - gathers in Baldur's Gate to celebrate. Xaph [Tav] introduces her firstborn child to Karlach

- AO3 Link

Necromancin' Dancin' 👤📄

Dana can't sleep, and finds Wyll dancing by the campfire. He invites her to join him and inadvertently sparks memories of Dana's love-life pre-tadpole

- AO3 Link

It Will Come Back 👤📚

Gortash has a safehouse in the Outer City where he conducted most of his business before he began to slide up the scale of Baldurian aristocracy. A window on the second floor can no longer be locked because acid had melted the latch away to nothing years ago. He refuses to fix it. It's how Dana likes to let herself in

- Tumblr Links (1-2-3-4-5) - AO3 Link - #dana [durge] - Playlist

[singstar234]

SPOILERS 3x06

Summary: Ready to leave this world and step back into his own, Lee decides to leave Lyra a piece of himself for her to remember him by.

Who else cried in this episode? I hope you enjoy this little short. I needed this after what I witnessed.

[zomeszone]

This is a random His Dark Materials fic I quickly wrote. I have written fanfiction in the past but this is my first His Dark Materials fic. It's a small moment where Lyra's and Will's futures are connected

This is on AO3 with a few edits

As they entered the theatre, Lyra made sure Pan had his seat. It was in contrast with everyone else in the theatre. They had their daemons touching them, some even curled into their sides. Lyra was more dressed up for the occasion, in a white blouse with a light tan skirt which had a small petticoat built-in with ankle boots, her favourite bag over her shoulder.

Films were invented a year before but it was the first time a cinema had opened and was open to the public. Lyra was eager to see the first film they showed to see how similar it was to that one time, years before with Will. Looking around, people were more dressed up than she was. Lyra knew that moving pictures could happen and it was common to go in Will's world. To everyone else in her world, it was a brand-new thing and they were known as 'moving photograms' but Lyra chose to always call them 'films'

The only other seemingly open seat was on Lyra's right side. She wished Will was occupying that seat and sat with snacks she would steal. Pan and Kirjava on the other side of them, watching the film like their owners, and their tails entwined.

As it started, Lyra expectantly looked to her right, hoping that Will had somehow figured out a way to get there. Instead, there was a llama daemon sitting there. If Will was in the land of the daemons, they would've been buzzing that they could watch movies in Lyra's world!

In his world, Will had sat down on a first date with a girl named Imogen. They met when the guy Will had briefly dated had introduced them on a night out. They'd agreed to it after Will had broken up with James. Will and Imogen had a horrendous Pizza Express dinner, in which they didn't seem to get along. He hoped that "Back to Black" would distract him from her.

Imogen was the polar opposite of Will in every way. She wanted to be in the middle of everything when he was more comfortable blending in. He knew that opposites could complement each other, but he and Imogen just clashed. She was a bit on the taller side with short ginger hair, wearing a black dress with a yellow overshirt and yellow high tops. He was in his go-too random t-shirt with dark jeans and fleece combo with his old faithful trainers.

He sat in his seat with Imogen on his right and an empty seat on his left. As the sound of Amy Winehouse's voice filled the theatre, he looked at the empty seat, thinking to himself, "Lyra, look at this!"

A lesbian couple was sitting on the other side of that seat. One of them had bleach-blonde hair and was sitting where he envisioned Pan and Kirjava being. He liked the idea of their tails being tangled together.

[plainlo-inthemorning]

AMAZING!! ♥️♥️♥️

What a fantastic read, GREAT narrative structure with the rewinding flashbacks that in turn broke my heart and had me squealing with joy (seriously, so damn sexy), and such a satisfying ending. I was worried for a second you would re-traumatize me after what the show did. December 2020 was ROUGH lol 😂

I adore how you wrote Lee - everything was so spot on, from his movements to his speech pattern. He was completely 100 percent alive on the page, and his interactions with Hester were delightful. As were the ones between the main character and her daemon! You really nailed the intimate relationships between the respective duos, AND you answered one of my most burning questions - what do the daemons get up to while their humans get down? So thank you for that, also😅

Which leads me to: Beautiful smut. Just beautiful. Hot. Hot. Hot. Standing ovation. For their meet-cute in the bar, too. Fuck that was such a funny, ridiculously charming scene.

As I mentioned in a previous comment, I was on the edge of my seat several times during the battles, and I literally gasped when Jem vanished 😢 Thrilling pacing and believable, high stakes. And ofc the tension… Ooooh the tension! I wanted to shake both of them in turn. He’s infuriating and yet SO very marriageable 😂

Thank you ❤️‍🔥 🙏🙏🙏 This was everything and more.

Pass Back Through the Heart, Chapter Twelve

Pairing: Lee Scoresby/reader Rating: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY) Warnings for this chapter: sex Words: 3.8K Summary: You and Lee make decisions about the future

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also on AO3

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During the next week you keep helping out around the village during the day while your nights are spent in bed with Lee. You also carve out some time to examine the books again, determined to find something in them to make all your sacrifices worthwhile.

You’re absent-mindedly flipping through the books while Kalluk removes Lee’s stitches. When she stands to wipe her hands, she notices your choice of reading material.

“Where did you find those?”

You don’t look up. “Got them from a friend who wanted to see if I could translate them.”

“So that’s why the Magisterium were after the two of you.”

Your head snaps up. “How…?”

“Let me finish up here and we can talk.” She goes back to attending to Lee, but her daemon climbs up onto the table by you.

The woodrat sniffs at the books. “Pretty old. Been stored properly. These the only ones?”

“Yes, there were only three.”

He sniffs them again, then looks back to his human. Kalluk is helping Lee put his shirt back on.

Lee asks, “So you’ve seen books like those before?”

She nods. “We seem to attract a lot of travelers here. From all places.”

You lean towards her. “What kinds of places?”

She approaches the table and sits across from you, picking up the top book. “I think it’s because the air is thinner this far north. It’s easier for them to cross through. Though we haven’t seen one in a long time.”

Your mouth is hanging open as you stare at the older woman. In a moment you manage to blurt out, “You’ve met them?”

“When I was younger. They came through, did some trading, moved on. Left some books, too.”

“Can I see them?”

Her daemon’s fur bristles and she places a hand on him. “They’re kept safe from outsiders. We don’t talk about them.”

“But you’re telling us about them…”

“Because you have books of your own.” Her eyes narrow slightly. “What are you going to do with them?”

“I was sent here by the Geological Society to retrieve them. I’m bringing them back to New Denmark.”

She sighs. “Dear, if you do that the Magisterium will follow them.”

Your chest feels like a rock is pressing on it. Lee shifts in the bed. “She’s right,” he says.

Standing, you practically shout, “So we just forget about them? And Orla… she died for nothing?”

Lee swings his legs over the side of the bed and starts to stand, but both you and Kalluk yell, “Stay in that bed!” He grumbles but sits back down.

You turn back to Kalluk. “Please… tell me what these are. My friend died because of them. Lee almost died. I… I killed for them. And I don’t even know what’s in them!” You slump back into your chair, your daemon coming to your lap to comfort you.

Kalluk reaches out for your hand, which you reluctantly give to her. She traces the lines on your palm. “This world is one of many. Our people have always known that. Some worlds are close to ours.” She puts her palm out to you. “Similar, but different.” She presses her palm against yours. “Some worlds are barely separated from ours. We can see them at certain times, but only glimpses.”

“The aurora.”

She nods. “Sometimes they touch ours, sometimes they’re further away.” She pulls her palm slightly away from yours; you can still feel the residual heat from her. “But they’re always there, just as we are.”

“How did people from the other world come here?”

“They had an instrument that would let them through.”

“What sort of instrument?”

“Not sure; they kept it secret.”

Lee chimes in, “But the books… they seem like instructions?”

“Instructions, memories, scrapbooks. They liked to record their visits.”

You shake your head. “But how could you communicate with them? Their language seems so different than any I’ve studied.”

Kalluk laughs. “They spoke the same as us. They fooled you, too.”

“What do you mean?”

She whispers, “They’re written in code.”

You almost hit yourself on the forehead. It was a possibility you hadn’t considered while examining them. You simply took them for face value, assuming it was a foreign language based on the mythos you’d heard about them. “They gave you a key to the code?”

Kalluk considers this. “I believe so. But I don’t know it.”

“But then who—”

“That’s not for you to know, dear.”

You start to protest, then close your mouth. After another moment, you say, “So I failed. It was for nothing.”

Kalluk stands and puts her hands on your slumped shoulders. “You kept them from the Magisterium. They want to dominate this and every other world. Keeping these books out of their hands thwarts that. So no—I do not think you failed at all.”

You look up at her and see her gentle smile. Then you look over at Lee, whose face mirrors hers. “You want me to leave them here.”

“I’ve grown fond of the both of you and I’d like you to stay safe. Your employers would be targeted if the faintest whisper got back to the Magisterium about them having the books. No outsiders know what we have here. Until you.”

Her trust cuts through your sense of defeat. Again you look at Lee. “What do you think?”

“I think Kalluk’s solution keeps us all alive and I’m for that.”

“What do I tell the Society?”

He thinks a moment. ­“Tell them the books were destroyed. Word will travel back and the Magisterium will give up on them. And hopefully on punishing us.”

You look at the man you love, still recovering from your last encounter with the Magisterium. All you want is to keep him safe. So you sigh and stack the three books together. After you stand you hold them out to Kalluk, who gently takes them from your hands.

She gives you a motherly smile. “The two of you can stay as long as you’d like, but he should be okay to travel in a day or two. Just don’t get too vigorous in your nightly activities just yet.” She winks at you and then laughs as your eyes widen.

After she leaves, you sit on the bed with Lee. He kisses your temple and squeezes your hand. “Are you feeling all right with all this?”

Slowly you nod. “It’s the best thing, even though I would have liked to somehow use those books against the Magisterium. I suppose simply keeping the books from them still helps to foil their plans.”

“Small actions can add up.”

You lean into him, soaking in the feel of his body heat against you. “So what do we do now?”

“Eat dinner?”

“I mean… we can leave soon.”

The thought hangs in the air between you; neither of you want to broach the subject just now. Because once you do, everything changes. Lee leans over to kiss you instead of replying, for which you’re grateful.

As you sipped your beer in the corner, your eye caught on the man with the wide brimmed hat. He wasn’t out of place in the tavern, but he still pulled your attention in towards him for some unknown reason. You took another sip and watched the small flick of his wrist as he pinched the wallet off the large man waiting at the bar. You raised an eyebrow, but took no further action, wanting to see this play out.

The dark haired man with the mustache crossed the room to take a seat at a table with a drink. In that same moment the large man tried to pay for his drink but came up empty. As the man patted his pockets and looked at the floor, your eyes darted back to the thief. He was talking to his daemon, a large hare who had hopped in his lap.

When your attention went back to the now wallet-less man, he was stalking across the room. “Here we go, “ you said to your daemon, who nodded. You leaned forward, waiting for the show to start.

The large man knocked the hat off the other man from behind and then pulled him up by his coat so that the dark haired man was barely standing on his tiptoes. From across the room you could catch snatches of accusations and denials and you admired how calm the thief seemed to stay. Things were looking dicey for him, though.

“He’s cute.”

Your daemon gave you a sideways glance.

“What do you think—should we help him out?”

He considered this for a moment. “Nothing else going on and this could be interesting.”

“I’m so glad you enable my bad decisions.” You finished your beer in one big gulp and stood up.

The thief had his hands in the air as you strode across the room and shouted, “Darling! There you are!”

The larger man dropped the thief, who only had time to turn his head to you before you launched yourself into his arms and planted a kiss on his lips. You could feel him slightly stiffen in surprise, but he brought his arms around you. Your daemon bumped foreheads with his and whispered to her, “Follow our lead.”

You nuzzled the man’s nose and smiled. “I’ve been waiting for you—you know we have dinner scheduled tonight.” You turn to the other man. “Oh, hello! Is my fiancée troubling you with anything, sir?”

The man’s mouth was hanging open and his eyes flicked between the two of you. “He fits the description of a pickpocket been going ‘round here.”

You gave a throaty laugh. “Oh yes, my fiancée the master thief—that’ll be the day! Isn’t that just a riot, dear?”

The thief smiled with you. “I was just explaining to the gentleman that he had the wrong man.”

The big man glared. “Then you won’t mind if I search you.”

“Oh, of course not!” You turned the thief around to face you as the big man shoved his hands in the pockets of the leather coat. The thief looked scared, but you winked at him and he seemed to relax a little.

When the other man’s hands went into his pants pockets, the thief exclaimed, “Little close for comfort there, eh, pal?”

Coming up empty, the large man grunted. “My mistake, I guess.”

“Oh, no trouble at all.” You picked up the hat from the ground and gave it to the thief. “I’m famished, darling—let’s go.”

He took the hat and placed it on the table as he sat again. “Of course, my love—I just need to finish my drink.”

“Well, be quick about it.”

You moved to take a seat but he grabbed your arm and pulled you onto his lap. Your arms flew around his neck to keep yourself balanced and he quickly drew you in for another kiss. The other man walked away and the thief called after him, “Good luck catching that thief!”

You giggled and kissed him again. He tasted like whiskey and smelled like leather and fire. When he deepened the kiss, you opened your mouth and let his tongue flit into yours. Well, he was certainly a good kisser.

His lips left yours and he beamed at you. “So where did you come from, my guardian angel?”

You smirked. “You owe me half of what’s in this wallet.” You patted your pocket, where the large man’s wallet now sat.

“Angels don’t usually desire compensation for their good deeds.”

“And I wasn’t kidding about dinner—I’m starving and you’re buying.”

“I see—more of a fallen angel?”

“The Magisterium is going to come after you for your blasphemy.”

He pushed the tip of his nose against yours. “Let ‘em.” You smiled and he crashed his lips against yours again.

After a few moments of kissing, your stomach growled loudly. The man chuckled and helped you off his lap. “All right, I’ll spring for grub tonight since you helped me out of that tight spot.”

“Somewhere with actual, decent food.”

“So demanding, angel.” He slid his hat over his dark hair. “I know a place close by; shall we?” He extended his elbow and you wrapped your arm around it.

You exited the tavern, your daemons right behind the both of you. The man leaned in and said, “I’m Lee, by the way. Lee Scoresby.” He waited, but you just looked ahead.

When he stopped, you moved your arm around his waist. “Get me dessert, too, and you’ll get a name.”

He laughed loudly and started walking again. “Oh, this will be a fun night.”

You reached down and squeezed his ass. Lee’s eyebrows sprung up in surprise.

“And we’re just getting started.”

In the morning you tell Lee, “I want to bring Orla’s things back to the Geological Society. I know she has family and they deserve to know what happened to her.”

Lee nods. “We can leave tomorrow, if you’d like.”

Sitting up in the bed so you can look at him, you say, “You don’t have to take me the entire way—the Society will foot the bill for my travel back.”

He closes his eyes a moment and takes a deep breath. “Okay… so it’s time for that conversation, isn’t it?” Pushing the covers down, he sits up. “I’m not letting you go, angel.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Putting your hand on his cheek, you ask, “You think I’d let you go?”

With urgency, he grabs your face and kisses you, but pulls away quickly. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it. I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth and back.”

You shake your head and gently remove his hands, holding them tightly. “I don’t want that, Lee. You need to be free and so do I.”

“But you’re tied to where the Society tells you to go.”

“That’s true, but I also get to pick my assignments and choose my own research. I have a lot of freedom but also a steady paycheck.”

“And you won’t give that up.”

“No, I won’t.”

He groans and lets his head fall backwards until it bumps the wall. “Then what the fuck do we do?”

Your chest feels hollow and you wrap your arms around him. “I don’t know.”

“We have an idea.”

You look over at your daemon, who is sitting with Hester at the end of the bed. They both move towards you. Exchanging a look with each other, Hester says, “What if we are all together, but not together physically all the time?”

Lee furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”

Your daemon takes over. “We keep doing what we’ve been doing. Except instead of meeting unintentionally, we make plans to be in the same places.”

Hester nods. “Neither of you gives up anything.”

Lee frowns. “Except seeing each other all the time.”

“But you didn’t have that before.”

“Hester’s right,” you say. “We’d be gaining time together.”

“But would it be enough time?” Lee rubs his thumb against your palm.

“I think we would have to figure that out and see how much time we can spend with each other.”

“But what, a day here and there?”

“No, we could arrange to be together for weeks, maybe even months. Depending on what I’m working on and what you’re working on.” An idea pops into your head and you sit up straight. “Lee, I could even get you work with the Society! They always need things and people transported. It could be pretty steady, but you could go off to other places whenever you’d like as well.”

He scratches his neck. “I mean… I can pick up work anywhere. And having some steady work lined up would be nice…”

The hollowness inside you starts to dissipate. “Lee, this could work—we can make it work.”

Leaning forward, he cups your face. “And what if I miss you too much?”

You press your forehead against his. “Then we can renegotiate and reconfigure—nothing needs to be set in stone.”

He looks down at the daemons. “And both of you are on board with this?”

Your daemon leans against Hester. “We think it’s the best solution for now.”

Lee clears his throat. “What if we haven’t seen each other for a while and are… really missing each other.” He pulls you close. “You gonna find someone else to scratch that itch?”

“I love you,” you kiss him. “Whether we’re in the same spot or not, I love you and am always yours.” He kisses you again, deeper now. “Besides, I asked you already: how could I ever want someone else once I’ve had you?”

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “So… you didn’t…?”

When you laugh in his face, he just frowns at you. “Sorry! No, Lee—I was not celibate for five years. I’m not a fucking nun.”

He grunts. “I would have been surprised.”

“What I mean is… after you, I felt like I was always missing something.” You pull yourself onto his lap, your arms around his neck. “No one ever measured up to you, cowboy.”

He finally gives you a smile again. “I tried to forget you, you know.” Kissing your neck, he makes his way to your collarbone. “But every time, all I could think about was you. All I imagined was you.”

Trapping his lips with your own, you want to possess every inch of him. He belongs to you and you alone. And you knew it from the first time he was inside you—you will always be his.

Frantically you pull away from his mouth and roll onto your back, taking him with you. He hovers over you for a second, pushing away the blankets from around both your legs. As soon as you’re free of the entanglement, you open your thighs for him, already slick and ready for him. When you look down, you see his tip weeping right before he pushes it inside of you. There is little resistance, but still he goes slow, letting you feel every aching inch of him. When he reaches his base, he thrusts into you once, then takes his time pulling back until only his tip remains within you.

He repeats this several times while you whimper and claw at his shoulders. You want him to both continue this and to just fuck you senseless.

“What do you want, my angel?” he whispers.

“Faster,” your constricted throat rasps out.

Obliging, his movements do speed up, but only just a little. He’s still using his full, delicious length on you as you try to grip him with your inner muscles. Every time you clench, he groans.

You can feel yourself coming apart underneath him as he keeps a steady pace. A sound of desperation crawls out of you and you cling to any part of Lee you can hold onto for even a moment. Without stopping the rocking of his hips, he puts a hand on your cheek. “Look at me,” he purrs. When you do, your franticness dissipates. The stillness in his face belies the fact that he’s still moving in you.

Drawn into his gaze, you feel completely open to him— like he can see everything you feel. In the past, with anyone else, this would have terrified you. But it’s Lee and you find yourself wanting to let him see every dark crevice inside of you.

Even though your muscles relax now, your back laying against the mattress, your core is tightening every time he moves within you. With his eyes still fixed on you, he changes his rhythm. You shift your hips a little, which makes him falter for a second, taking in the sensations of the new angle. Oh, he hits that luscious spot buried deep inside you over and over.

His strokes become erratic as he whimpers, “I love you,” and grips the bedding. The look on his face and the feeling of him gushing hot inside you breaks you open and you come undone with him.

When he collapses on top of you, you answer, “I love you, too.”

The next day after filling the balloon and packing your things, you say your goodbyes to everyone who aided you in the town. Kalluk envelops you in an embrace and holds you longer than you would have expected. “Be safe out there,” she says.

“We will.” As you pass a bag to Lee, your hand inadvertently brushes against Hester’s side. Lee just smiles at you and continues to put the bag away. When you turn to say a final farewell to Kalluk, her head is tipped to one side.

“How interesting,” her daemon says.

You simply give them a sly smile and board the balloon.

Once the balloon is stable in the air, Lee wraps his arms around you. With your head against his chest, you can hear his heart beating through the layers of leather.

He kisses the top of your head. “Ready to go home, my love?”

You pull away just a little and put a hand to his chest. “My home is right here.”

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EPILOGUE

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Weeks later, while you’re sleeping, Lee is awake, sitting on the edge of the bed and trying to decide where to go next.

“Back to colder skies, Hester?”

“I’m built for them and so are you.” She burrows into his side as he scratches her ears.

“Tomorrow is going to be hard, saying goodbye. But… I’m not dreading letting her go as much as I thought I would.”

She cocks her head at him. “You’re concerned rather than pleased about that.”

He sighs. “Does it mean… that I don’t… or not enough?”

“Not on your life, Lee.” She looks at you, your face relaxed in sleep with your daemon under your arm. Every time she looks at either of you, warmth spreads through her chest. “We couldn’t love them any more. Or any less.”

He strokes your hair. “You’re right as usual, rabbit.”

“It will be hard, Lee.” Hester hops onto his lap. “But not like before. We’ll see them again soon.”

He hugs her to his chest. “I guess you’ll only have me now to put up with.”

“Someone needs to look after you.”

You groan and shift in your sleep. When you reach out your hand and find his side of the bed empty, you softly call out, “Lee… come back to bed.”

“Yes, angel.” He takes your hand and kisses it before climbing under the covers with you again. Wrapping his body around yours, he lets out a contented sigh.

As you both fall back asleep, Hester curls up with your daemon. “She had the same thoughts earlier,” he says.

Hester clucks her tongue. “Our humans— definitely made for each other.”

Your daemon licks her face. “As are we.”

That night you will all dream of new adventures, both together and apart.

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Tagging: @sunflowersturn @phoenixofthevalley @serpentstyles

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THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! That's it-- it's done!

I'd love to know what your favorite part or favorite chapter was. Drop me a note here or on AO3.

💜💜💜

[torvagatai]

If anyone needs a new reason to cry over these two today, just remember that the modern-era Will of the TV adaptation took this photo of the Tower of the Angels on the day he and Lyra first met. Meaning that he’s got a photo of Lyra that he probably doesn’t even remember taking, and on some uneventful, monotonous day when he’s back home and absently flicking through his phone he’ll find it. He was in a rush to catch up with her, he remembers, so it’s not a very good photo - a little blurred, taken at an odd angle. Lyra’s not even the focus of the picture; she’s turned away from him, her face completely hidden, Pan almost cut out of the frame entirely. But it’s unmistakably her.

The first time he stumbles across it, Will can hardly bear to look at it. But he keeps the photo always, makes multiple digital and physical copies just in case. Sometimes it hurts to look at. Sometimes it brings him comfort. He takes a copy to Mary Malone and she tacks it up on her laboratory wall. On one of the less painful days he shows it to his mother and laughs as he tells her the story of how she attacked him when they first met.

And on more than one Midsummer’s Day he takes it with him to the Botanic Garden.

[idkaguyorsomething]

The Problem of Susan Fic Recs

For many reasons, The Last Battle is probably the most contentious addition to the Narnia canon. The standout, though, has to be the infamous Problem of Susan, wherein the Pevensie children are all killed in a train crash and brought to Narnia 2 Electric Boogaloo aka heaven, then declare that Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia because of her interest in “lipsticks and nylons”. Hardly any time is spent on this, but the implications have been the ground for a lot of argument and discussion. What exactly would happen to Susan, and should it have happened? Over the years, dozens of fic writers have thrown their hats in the ring and weighed in on the subject, making the Problem of Susan almost a prism for the fandom: everyone shines through it a bit differently, resulting in a wide spectrum. Here’s some of the highlights under the cut.

http://shedletsky.com/blog/the-god-who-loves-you

Starting with the fic that coined the term, written by Neil Gaiman himself, this fic is a reflection and deconstruction of the idea that Susan would be able to find Narnia again by delving into the trauma that the experience of losing all her family at once as well as the social injustices that a young woman of her time would’ve faced, something that the narrative of The Last Battle never really addresses. It took off for a reason, as it presents a lot of good food for thought, but it’s also got some pretty weird shit that can feel like it’s conflating adulthood with edginess. Well worth a read for all the points it raises, but if you’re fond of canon you probably won’t like the way it takes a hammer to it.

Now this one is exactly what you’d want to read if you wanted some feel-good time. This story is probably the closest to how C S Lewis would’ve written Susan’s return to Narnia, detailing her rediscovering all the things she put away as well as what led up to her rejecting Narnia in the first place. It falls more to the end of being almost uncritical of canon, with the focus on Susan basically having the same sort of religious rediscovery that C S Lewis himself had in his life. Because of how she was treated in canon, that can be pretty frustrating, but the ending feels nothing short of joyous.

Swinging back to the other end of the spectrum, this fic is very critical of the idea of The Last Battle being a pretty happy ending for everyone, unambiguously stating that life is always worth living for all the Pevensie kids. It explores what their lives could’ve been like if they didn’t die, being a rebuttal of C S Lewis’ themes rather than a continuation of them while feeling equally as happy as the fic directly above.

And this story feels like a midway point between the above two. It dives really deep into the emotional damage that Susan would’ve suffered before and after the train crash in some absolutely gorgeous prose, showing both her and Aslan with great sympathy while maintaining that what happened to her is not a punishment in any way. Bittersweet and very, very good.

Heading back towards the more critical end of the spectrum, this fic presents a Susan who is not interested in finding Narnia again, only her family. She is very much a character straight out of an ancient myth rather than a teen trying to make sense of a senseless situation here, filled with determination as much as desperation. It’s probably the closest fic on here to having something close to a plot as well as a character study, with the exception of The Queen’s Return and one other:

Being a crossover with what’s pretty much the antithesis of the Chronicles of Narnia, His Dark Materials, it’s probably easy for you to guess which side of the spectrum this story falls on. It’s more of a HDM story than a Narnia one, but the two worlds blend together surprisingly well, and it gives us a rare look into a Susan who’s lived decades of her life when the story picks up. She’s pretty much the Professor and it is fascinating, as is everything left to interpretation by this gem of a fic that is ambiguous yet deeply satisfying.

¡And here’s Susan as a Doctor Who companion! This isn’t directly a Narnia story so much as it is one about two people much older than they look mourning the loss of their worlds, with a Susan who is a queen wise beyond her years. Reading it is like taking an ice shower. It doesn’t hold back on the grief, and as a result it manages to feel honest as it reaches a warm ending.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/24311

Despite also being a crossover, this is in some ways the opposite of touch the sky with two arms. Susan is more of an everyday young woman than a queen, and [SLIGHT SPOILERS] Narnia itself does feature directly. But y’know, that’s part of what makes fandom so interesting. Not everyone is going to have the same take on everything, and the ending of this leans more happy than melancholy.

¿A shipping fic that’s also a crossover with Peter Pan that features neither Neverland or Narnia? Yes, this one probably has the least to do with Narnia or Aslan, but it tells a very compelling story about living life and growing up, something that isn’t perfect but can be good if you find someone you want to spend your life with. Susan Pevensie and Wendy Darling are a really good couple, pinky promise.

Technically more a series of ensemble oneshots, but Susan features very prominently in a lot of them, and they will make you feel every feeling that everything else on this list might’ve given you. Satisfaction, devastation, simple joy, just go give it a shot.

[thedemonofcat]

In the final trial to become a witcher, their dæmons are severed from them. Geralt recalls his dæmon, Dandelion, looking at him and promising to return one day. Elsewhere in Lettenhove, a baby named Julian was born.

Julian Pankratz, better known as Jaskier, had always been different. He was born without a dæmon, a rarity that marked him as unique. Perhaps this peculiarity drew him to Geralt, the witcher who found the bard's lack of a dæmon intriguing.

Unknown to either of them, Jaskier is actually Dandelion, keeping his promise.

[everythingbutresolved]

Yessss new chapter! Adventures! Plot! Errr...smut!

The Lion, the Witch and the Leather Waistcoat pt. 5

His Dark Materials (show) Rating: Explicit 18+ only Pairing: Lee Scoresby x OFC Words: 8k Chapter: 5/8 (pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4)

Warnings: Aeronaut sex, angst, mentions of blood

Also on AO3

Summary: Sophia and Byron reunite with Lee and Hester, but the aeronaut's run-in with the Magisterium soldiers has taken its toll...

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Sophia and Byron moved quietly and quickly through the narrow alleys and backstreets of the town to get to the docks, Sophia’s clothes becoming steadily more soaked with the intensifying rainfall.

She would take the crisp, sub-zero temperatures of the north over this inescapable wet chill and soggy mud any day.

They met few people, and the ones they passed, did not afford them any more than the usual curious glances. If the Magisterium soldiers were looking for them, they did not seem to have broadcast it to the entire town.

Yet.

Perhaps they were in luck: Perhaps Marisa Coulter never did hear about how the aeronaut spent the night with a female traveller with a lion daemon.

Or perhaps she simply did not care, seeing as they already had Lee.

Sophia hoped for one of the two, but more than that, she hoped that her gut instinct to hold onto Lee was as right as it felt.

Her and Byron had never been hunted game, nor had they had serious run-ins with the law, preferring to keep their affairs in order and uphold their professional reputation as both diligent and trustworthy to a fault.

That was how you made sure to never run out of well-paid assignments or beneficial alliances.

In this case, though, the importance of being of little interest to the likes of Mrs. Coulter far exceeded the value of merely securing future employment.

These were different stakes entirely.

As it turned out, Sophia and Byron were in luck. At least when it came to hiring a boat big enough to carry a motley party of four of varying sizes.

Once they reached the river, they not only found the docks and the small, surrounding industrial area so quiet that it seemed unlikely that Lee was being held in any of the buildings there, but the old fishermen were also sat in the exact same spot as when Sophia had accosted them in the morning asking about Grumman: In a poorly kept workshop playing cards.

When she popped her head through the open door, their weather-beaten faces lit up. Talking to young female travellers, getting to help one out, even, was an exceedingly rare occurrence in their everyday lives, Sophia guessed. She would not be surprised if they had been largely forgotten by society the minute they stopped being of practical use to the town.

She also guessed that, more often than not, they were well inebriated before lunch.

After reminding them of her business with Grumman and her need to travel up the river – for a fee, of course – one of the men readily offered to show her his old boat, not about to turn down the chance to pocket some extra income.

Any income.

He swayed a little as he got to his feet and pulled on his tattered jacket, but he was in high spirits when he walked Sophia and Byron down a wobbly, wooden pier, his seagull daemon perched on his shoulder.

Here, he proudly presented them with a mid-sized boat of highly dubious safety standards that was gently rocking on the water. It had an old, seemingly homemade motor attached at the stern and the paint was largely scaled off. 

It appeared to be at least as old as the retiree himself.

»She’s not much to look at, I know«, he said, »but I can promise ya, she’ll get ya up the river to where ya want to go, no problem«.  

A large, crumbled tarpaulin lay at the bottom of the boat, and Sophia tried to keep her elation under wraps as she thanked the fisherman, offering him a handsome, yet not suspiciously grateful payment for the hire and promising that they would return the boat within long.

Of course, she had no idea if they would, and considering the generosity of the man this white lie did not sit well with her.

That boat, however unsightly it was, was likely the only thing of value he had. But there was nothing to do about that.

They needed it.

She pressed an extra note into the man’s hand after all, ignoring his vague protests.

Sophia hoped that the money would make up for his loss if they never returned. If he did not immediately head to the bar of the Samirsky with his friends, as she had a feeling he would.

»And are ya sure ya can navigate in this weather? Dusk comes early at this time of year…«.

»Oh, yes, I have years of experience on the water. It won’t be an issue at all«, Sophia lied smoothly while giving the man her most enchanting smile and watching him become all flustered with delight at her attention.

Before her and Byron turned to head back up town, she tucked her bag under the tarpaulin in the boat and explained to the man that she had a last bit of business to attend to. He did not have to wait around for her to see her off, she said. She would take the boat out herself.

Sophia resisted the temptation to ask him and his friends to avoid mentioning her to any officials, should they drop in. It was too much to request – and too risky in terms of inviting suspicion – and the old man had been more than helpful already.

Sophia and Byron just had to get back with Lee and Hester and hit the water as soon as they possibly could.

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»So far, so good«, Byron said when they set course for the sheriff’s building. »Now to the fun part«.

The daemon almost managed to suppress the gloom in his voice, but not quite. Still, Sophia appreciated the effort.

Her own heart was already beating fast.

As they traversed the streets expected to lead to the sheriff’s building, she felt again for the crossbow and quiver, making sure everything was in place, before also checking the knife holster in her belt.

It had been a good while since she had used any of her weapons in actual combat (a warm spring evening, when her and Byron had been attacked by a pair of roadside thieves), but Sophia was confident in her abilities with both.

In the heat of the moment, opponents tended to focus on the lion before anything else. A mistake only made once.

»This is it, isn’t it?«, Byron asked.

»Has to be«, Sophia nodded.

They had turned a corner and found themselves in the alley running parallel to the sheriff’s building. With the weather being what it was, very little daylight found its way down between the structures, making it difficult for anyone up on the main street to spot Sophia and Byron moving in the shadows.

Soon, an even narrower passage on their right led them to what Sophia hoped was a back entrance.

There were no windows in the brick wall. Just a wooden door. Sophia tried the handle. It was locked from the inside, but the door seemed to give when she put more weight behind her push.

»I think one kick would do it«.

»Wait«. Byron walked up next to her and put an ear to the wood.

He waited.

»Okay, I can’t hear anything«.

»I know we said to sneak in, but I think I have to-«

The lion stepped back. »Just do it«.

Sophia grabbed her bow, readying the weapon.

»Here we go«.

Holding the bow in a firm grip and aiming at the door, Sophia blinked raindrops out of her lashes, steadied her core, and with her boot gave the wood planks a precise kick.

The noise stripped them of their desired element of surprise, should anyone be standing right on the other side, but by now Lee could well have been in the soldiers’ custody for hours and not having a pleasant chat over coffee, that was for damn certain.

If it turned out the aeronaut was not in the building, Sophia and Byron had to move on to the next possible holding spot, and fast.

Wherever that could be.

Splinters of wood fell to the ground as the lock broke and the door swung open, and then human and daemon were staring into an empty, dimly lit corridor. On one side was a row of metal doors that might be cells, although the industrial look of it reminded Sophia of a slaughterhouse, too.

She pushed the association right out of her mind.

They waited for a few seconds, but no sounds came from within.

It’s not here, Sophia thought. It’s too quiet. Fuck.

Her wet hair stuck to the sides of her face.

Bow still raised, she stepped through the door, and Byron followed her.

The pair started down the corridor, carefully pushing open the doors as they passed them. They were cells, alright, but none of them were locked, and it did not look like anyone had occupied them in a long time.

Suddenly, Byron stopped, eyes and ears fixed straight ahead. »Somebody’s here«, he whispered. »I can smell them«.

Sophia stood completely still. She could neither smell nor hear a thing. Other than the drips from a leaky pipe somewhere. The air was cold and clammy.

Of course, her daemon’s senses were far superior to hers – a fact that had saved their lives more than once before.

»How many?« she whispered as quietly as she could.

»I’m not sure. Something’s wrong…«

»No shit«.

»Shh«.

The lion crept forward with soundless steps, eyes unblinking, head low, and Sophia followed next to him, breathing as calmly as she could to keep her aim. If she had to shoot, it would probably be up close. A firearm would have been more practical, albeit much noisier.

The end of the corridor turned a corner.

Sophia peeked around it. Yet more metal doors, and then-

»What the…«

A few feet from where she stood, a man in a Magisterium uniform lay unmoving on the floor. In front of an open cell door. His snake daemon lay equally limp further down the corridor.

It looked as if someone had tossed it there like a piece of garbage.

There was no one else.

»Sophia, I can smell blood…«

Sophia tiptoed over to the man and crouched down. »That’s weird, he’s out cold, but it doesn’t look like there’s-«

She did not get to finish the sentence before Byron suddenly snarled and jumped past her, at the same time a figure appeared in the door to the cell, pointing his pistol at them, arm shaking.

»Sophia?«

The lion, about to lash out, sat back on his hind legs in surprise. Just as Sophia’s hand that had flown over her shoulder to grab the bow, froze.

Lee was staring down at her, a wild look of confusion on his face.

His handsome face, caked in blood.

Sophia gasped and staggered to her feet, almost tripping over the unconscious solider.

»You’re…soaked«, Lee said, dumbfounded.

»It’s, um, raining«.

The aeronaut lowered his pistol and leaned heavily against the doorframe, and Sophia reached out to steady him. Only one of his eyes opened, the other was swollen shut, and Sophia did not miss the way he favoured his side with the hand not holstering the weapon.

There were angry red marks on his wrists from handcuffs.

It looked like just staying upright took all the strength he had.

Hester hobbled up next to him on shaky legs, and Byron stepped forward to softly sniff the hare’s little nose. She closed her eyes and with a sigh leaned her forehead against the lion’s muzzle in a rare gesture of intimacy that went unnoticed by the two humans next to them.

»How are you…when did you-«, Sophia looked over Lee’s face, instinctively raising her hand to touch him, but stopping herself before she did. She could not tell if there were multiple gashes. One of his eyebrows, the one above the shut eye, looked broken, and the blood on his hairline suggested he had taken at least one blow to the head, as well.

She was at once dizzy with relief to have found him so quickly, and horrified by the condition he was in.

They had clearly gone hard on him, like she feared they would.

On one cheek, a single tear streak had painted its own trail through the blood.

But he was alive.

»Are there any more guards?« Sophia wanted to know, while Byron took a look inside the cell. But Lee did not seem to hear her. He was just staring at her with his one good eye filled with wonder.

»You came for us«, he said, slowly shaking his head like he could not believe it. »You actually came to bust us out?«

»Well, yeah, of course«. Sophia blushed. She did not want to look down at Byron, who was quite possibly avoiding Hester’s shiny, grateful gaze. The lion had more reason to, after all.

»Your face…What did they-«.

»Hey, it’s not as bad as it looks«, Lee said, trying to smile but ending up wincing instead. »You should see the other guys«.

»Unless they’re dead, I’m not sure-«

Sophia bit her tongue as darkness fell over Lee’s features. He looked away from her.

»I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant«. Sophia put a palm on his chest. »I’m sure you didn’t have a choice, up at the observatory«, she said softly. »Byron and I, we were warned about the man up there-«

»How did you know that I- Wait, You were warned about him?« Lee looked back at her.

»More or less, yes. By the town’s doctor. I’m guessing you weren’t by whoever told you about him…«

»No, I wasn’t« Lee said bitterly, though it was not directed at Sophia. »That would have been most helpful though«.

»Byron and I were going to find you guys so we could head up there together, but when we got to our hotel, it was swarming with Magisterium types, and then – well, we overheard the barmaid saying that something had happened to you«.

Sophia took a deep breath.

»She was talking to Marisa Coulter«.

Lee nodded.

»Yes, she was here«, he said, clearing his throat. »As crazy as it sounds, she did that«. He gestured to the soldier on the floor. »She set us free. Gave me the keys. You two missed her by minutes«.

»What?« Sophia gaped at him.

»Yeah, her and I had an interesting…chat earlier« Lee said with a strange tone of voice Sophia had not heard before. »She’s searching for the girl. Thought she could threaten something out of me. Didn’t give her a thing, of course. Then she came back, and I was dead certain she was going to kill us…«

He shook his head again. »Instead, she told me to keep Lyra safe, if I find her first«.

Sophia was stunned. She would not have thought Coulter capable of showing mercy, but it made some sense that freeing Lee was to her advantage.

It could be a set-up, with Coulter preparing to follow the aeronaut.

At their feet, the soldier was still out, but they needed to move.

They had been supremely lucky to avoid having to resort to violence, yet, and for the sake of making a quiet escape from town, Sophia wanted to keep it that way.

Lee had spilled enough blood as it was.

»Let’s get the hell out of this place. We can go over everything once we’re on the water«.

»The water? You got a boat?« Lee straightened up. Sophia noticed that he had let his hat drop to the floor, probably when he pulled his pistol on them before.

She bent down to pick it up so he would not have to.

From his posture it looked like he had a cracked rib. Or two.

»Not as much a boat as a…floating device« Byron grunted, and Sophia could not help smiling.

»Yes, we have a boat. An actual boat«, she said to Lee who looked confused. »We have to leave the balloon for now. Sorry, but it’s too…«

»No, it’s fine«, Lee nodded. »It would attract too much attention«.

»Can you walk?« Sophia asked as he put on his hat.

»I hope so«. The aeronaut gave her a small reassuring smile, managing to avoid grimacing this time. »We’ve seen a lot worse, haven’t we, Hester?«

The daemon muttered something under her breath that sounded like »Not since back then, we haven’t«, but Sophia was not sure she heard her correctly.

»Okay, let’s go«, Byron said and turned back the way he and Sophia had come. Hester hopped after him, a little shaky on her slender legs, still, followed by Sophia and Lee.

As they were about to step out into the rain, Lee stopped next to the broken door and reached for Sophia’s hand. She turned to him.

»Hey«. His voice was low and soft. »Thank you«. He interlaced his fingers with hers. »Thank you for not leaving us. That was a brave thing to do for someone you’ve only…um…known for a day«.

»You’re welcome«. Sophia squeezed his hand. »I’m sure you would have done the same for us«.

»I would«, he said, very seriously, and Sophia believed him.

What she wanted to say back was that she would not have dreamed of leaving him. That she had felt physically ill at the thought of him being in danger.

It was the truth. But the words lodged in her throat, too big.

So instead of speaking anything, in what felt like a surreal mirror gesture of their morning in bed, she stepped closer to the aeronaut, put her hands on the shoulders of his leather jacket and craned her neck up to plant a feather-light, careful kiss on his lips.

Lee sighed with relief and leaned into her kiss.

His hands found Sophia’s waist and he pulled her closer to him. If it hurt, he ignored the pain.  

»I was so worried they’d come for you«, he whispered. »That someone at the hotel would tell them about…that I would have put you in danger«.

»It’s okay, we got out. We’re fine«. Sophia resisted the temptation to throw her arms around his neck and hug him as tightly as she could.

They really had to check those injuries.

»Ahem«. Byron cleared his throat. He and Hester were already out in the rain, waiting for them.

»Coming«, Lee said, but he did not let go of Sophia for another few seconds.

»You’re something very special, Miss Colt«, he said. »So very special«.

And warmth spread through Sophia’s veins like a wildfire.

.

.

.

.

.

The bad weather continued to work in their favour, and Sophia and Lee and their daemons managed to reach the docks unseen, spotting not a single uniformed figure.

Depending on how long the guard would be out for, Sophia hoped it would still be a while before anyone noticed that Lee had gone.

He was in pain, that was evident, but being outside again seemed to give him renewed strength. Whereas just minutes earlier Sophia had worried she would have to support his weight most of the way, he pushed forward determinedly, not complaining or slowing them down, and soon the wooden planks of the pier creaked under their boots as they made it to the fisherman’s boat.

There was no sign of the old man himself, but after Sophia had left, he had unfolded the tarpaulin and stretched it over the edges of the boat to keep rain from pooling in the hull. Sophia sent him a warm thank you in her thoughts.

Her bag was safe and dry, and Lee would be able to rest more easily.

She wished there had been time to stock up on food. She had some dried flatbread in her bag, but it was not exactly a hearty meal.

It would have to do, though, until her and Byron could go hunting for something more nourishing.

Right now, they just had to get a good way up the river.

»Are you calling captain?«, Lee asked, standing on the pier, as Sophia pulled the tarpaulin off the boat so they could get in.

»Can’t be that difficult, right?« Sophia replied breezily. If she had had to paddle, it would still have been the least stressful activity of the afternoon.

Lee eyed the old motor. »It’s not, but this one has seen better days…« He sounded sceptical.

»You just sit down here and relax, Mr. Scoresby. Maybe pull that tarpaulin over yourself, just in case. I’ll let you know if you’re needed«.

Hester jumped into the boat and Lee climbed down after her, his breathing tellingly laboured.

Still, it did not deter mood. The aeronaut grinned at Sophia as much as his beat-up features allowed him.

»Oh, I’m here for anything you might need«, he said. »Anything at all«.

»I wouldn’t make too many promises if I was in your condition«. Sophia gave him a once-over, but it was difficult to be serious when he smirked at her like that.

»You underestimate yourself, Miss Colt«. He took a seat, hand on his ribs. 

»Don’t you mean-?«

»You underestimate yourself if you think a little light scuffle is enough to keep me from you«.

Such.

A.

Flirt.

»Not sure how many people would file that«, Sophia gestured at his face, »under ‘a light scuffle’«. Still, she knew colour was creeping into her cheeks.

Again.

»Well, I’m not just anybody. And neither are you…«

»Can we please go? Now?« Hester asked loudly, not bothering to conceal her exasperation with the direction the conversation was taking.

»What the rabbit said«, Byron grumbled and jumped into the boat, his weight making it rock from side to side.

»Oh, come now«, Lee said to the lion, trying for friendly banter with the daemon. »Allow me to enjoy my good fortune for a minute, will you?«

Byron just looked at him.

»You’ve got blood on your hat, cowboy«.

»What? Where?« The playfulness drained from Lee’s voice as he took off his hat to inspect it.

He loved that hat dearly, both Sophia and Byron had noticed.

Sophia shook her head at her daemon. The lion blinked at her, feigning innocence. »What?«, his eyes asked.

With everyone now safely on board, and while Lee carefully looked over his hat, Sophia pushed them away from the pier. She got the motor running after a couple of tries, and just like that, they were on their way, putting distance between themselves and those wishing them ill, the lights of the town fading in the rain behind them.

No one shouted from the docks. No motor sounds in the distance suggested a hunt was underway.

They had either gotten away undetected, or Marisa Coulter had instructed the soldiers not to give chase.

If she had …

»What do you think the odds are that Coulter will have you followed?«, Sophia asked Lee.

The aeronaut had put on his hat again, though he still looked a mess. Sophia yearned to wash the blood of his face.

»The thought did occur to me«, he said, looking out over the river. »She doesn’t think highly of me, but I don’t think she takes me for a fool, either. She knows that I’ll be on the lookout«.

»Let’s just hope that she doesn’t have a witch ally among her acolytes«, Sophia said.

A witch’s bird daemon, with its ability to travel great distances on its own, would be a difficult spy to spot.

»Mmhn«, Lee grunted.

»Lee?«

»Yeah?«

»Will you tell me what happened at the observatory?«

He turned to her and sighed.

»It’s a simple, sorry tale. I got a tip at my hotel that Grumman had done some work with a Doctor Haley up there. It was quite a trek. When we arrived, Haley seemed friendly enough, although he got a bit evasive when I asked if he was working there all alone. Then, as soon as I brought up Grumman’s name, it was like flicking a switch. He called Grumman a heretic, implied I was one too, and by the look of him I knew we had to get out of there. Hester and I only made it out the door before he tried to shoot me in the back…«.

The aeronaut looked down at his boots. Hester got up from where she had been lying next to Byron and hopped into his line of vision. He looked to her instead and smiled sadly.

The daemon nuzzled her cheek against his shin.

»It happened so quickly«, Lee said. »I fired back and that was that. I didn’t shoot to kill…«

He looked up at Sophia again. She could tell it was important to him that she believed this, not knowing what she might have heard about the deadly encounter. But he need not have worried.

»I didn’t think you did«, she said softly.

 »Haley used up his dying breath saying that Grumman is an enemy to the Magisterium«, Lee continued. He reached down to scratch Hester behind one of her long, velvety ears.

»When we left, soldiers were already waiting for us outside. I guess I should be slightly flattered that they sent a small army…«.

He sat quietly for a few moments.

Sophia had a feeling they were thinking the same thing:

Lee had run a big risk, betting on the Magisterium soldiers not being suspicious of him enough for alarm bells to toll when he went around asking questions. And it had backfired disastrously.

There was no need to point out what his recklessness could have cost them all. He knew, and it hurt him the same as his sore ribs.

She was extremely curious about what exactly Coulter had said to him, but she figured Lee would tell her in his own time.

They sailed on in silence, Sophia pondering whether perhaps that solitary tear streak ought to worry her more than first thought.

.

.

.

.

.

.

An hour went by.

Two hours.

Dusk fell and as the air cooled and the rain kept falling, Sophia thought she might never get dry again.

Her clothes stuck to her limbs, but she had flat out rejected Lee’s offer that she take his jacket.  

He needed it, she knew, even if he looked displeased that she turned it down. It was not Sophia who had been beaten to a pulp.

The darker it got on the water, the more hazardous the journey became as making out potential cliffs became increasingly difficult. Byron had night vision, and Sophia knew from her maps that there were no waterfalls or treacherous curves ahead, but she would much prefer to have more than one set of eyes on the river.

She was just about to say this to Lee when, suddenly, the rain stopped.

From one second to the next, like the turning of a tap.

»Um«, was all Sophia got out before something else happened.

Above them, the heavy clouds disappeared as fast as if torn to shreds by the most powerful winds.

Only there was no wind.

»I’ll be damned…« Lee said as Byron and Hester both got to their feet.

»What just happened?« Sophia killed the motor. The boat glided to a stop on the miraculously placid water.

All four passengers looked to the night sky, now sprinkled with stars. Moonlight turned the river into silver and illuminated the surrounding landscape in shades of blue, from the sand beaches dotted with driftwood, to the rolling forest-clad hills beyond.

»I’ve seen all kinds of weather, but this…«, Lee pointed to the sky with a gloved hand, »this is no natural phaenomenon«.

»You’d almost think someone did that for us…« Sophia said. It did not feel like witch powers to her.

No, this was something different.

»’You can’t control the weather’«

»What?« Sophia looked at Lee.

»’You can’t control the weather’. Dr. Haley said that to me right when we met«. Lee was frowning. »Guess he was wrong. Then again, he was wrong about a lot of things…«.

Byron shook his mane and little droplets of water sprayed on all of them.

»Hey!« Hester berated him. »Could you maybe wait till we get back on land?«

»Hmpf«, Byron said.

 Lee nodded to himself, then to Sophia.

»Hester’s on to something. Let’s camp for the night«, Lee said.

Sophia hesitated. It would be so good to dry up and get warm, and Lee in particular needed sleep. But she had a strong sense that someone or something was paving the way up the river for them.

The moon was so dazzlingly bright it was like a giant’s flashlight insistently pointing down at them.

Byron nudged her boot with a paw. She met his eyes, and he gave a subtle nod towards Lee, wordlessly communicating that he, too, thought the aeronaut needed rest.

»Aw, look at you being all considerate of Lee«, Sophia thought as she cocked a knowing eyebrow at her daemon.

He huffed and looked away.

»Alright«.

Sophia got the motor going to turn the boat towards land, killing it again as soon as they were close to the beach. The silence was soothing after hours of listening to the mechanical whirr and coughs.

The shallow water under the boat was astonishingly clear, almost tropical looking. There were no rocks on this stretch of riverbed, hardly any pebble, in fact, and seeing this Sophia allowed the boat to slide easily all the way up on the beach.

The four of them got out, and Sophia and Lee hauled the boat further up on the sand before securing it. There was no way to camouflage it from anyone coming down the river. Nothing to do but hope no one would.

In front of them, the forest seemed to rise out of the sand like a wall of dense green, smelling of rain and damp earth. But instead of venturing into the wilderness, Lee and Sophia put down their stuff on the beach.

While the forest provided cover, they would dry off better out in the open air. And nothing good came from being shivering cold and wet for hours on end.

»We better not make a fire, just in case«, Sophia said. »It would have been nice, though«.

»Agree«, Lee said. He sat down heavily on the sand.

»I wouldn’t mind our weather angel sending some food to go with the view«. He gestured to the wide stream of silver that used to be a mud-green river. »Maybe some coffee, too«.

»Don’t you mean whisky?«

»I’d rather not push my luck with our mysterious guardian«. Lee smiled up at Sophia.

She kneeled down and reached into her bag for the flatbread. She tossed it to Lee who looked surprised but caught it with both hands.

»Here. You should eat«.

Lee unpacked the bread and broke it into two, but Sophia shook her head.

»No, you take it. Byron and I will go hunting tomorrow. You need it more than-«

Lee snorted.

»Give me some credit, Miss Colt. We’re sharing and that’s that«.

He reached over to hand Sophia half, and she took it.

She was hungry, after all, and she there was no use in arguing with the aeronaut.

»How many times today do I have to remind you that I’m a gentleman?«. Lee winked at her with his good eye. Sophia hoped it was the swelling making the damage to the other one look more serious than it was.

Lee ate the bread in just a couple of large bites. He dusted crumbs off his gloves.

Sophia took a bit longer with hers, knowing that the slower she ate, the fuller she would feel.

When the bread was gone, she reached into her bag and pulled out her water bottle, a small tin of disinfection ointment (again, she regretted not having had time to stock up on essentials in town), a piece of clean wash cloth, and a large blanket. The latter was lightweight and could fold into the size of a scarf, but impressively warm as it was woven with a blend of rare silk and wool.

»Now, we should take a look at those injuries of yours«, she said to Lee and stood again. »If you don’t mind«.

»Oh, I don’t mind«, Lee said and looked up at her with his head titled to one side, a sly smile playing on his lips. »But you know, I could just hobble down to the river and splash some water on it. Like I said, I’ve been through much worse«.

Next to him on the sand, Hester sighed and shook her head at her human.

»And how exactly would splashing water on your face fix the way you keep holding your side?«, Sophia asked. »Also, your current reflection may hurt your pride slightly«.

»That bad, huh?«

»It’s not good…«, Hester offered.

Lee turned to Byron who was lying on the sand some metres away watching the water, his head on his front paws.

»Hey, are the ladies here just fussing?« he asked jokingly. Sophia had to admire his newfound determination to get along with her daemon.

The lion slowly lifted his head and turned to look at Lee.

»You mistake me for someone who cares about your appearance…«, he said in a bored, but not altogether serious drawl, then looked away again. »…One Eye«.

»Fine«. Lee threw up his arms – and immediately drew in a sharp breath.

Hester and Sophia exchanged glances.

»Okay, hero, you just stay there« Sophia said.

She walked down to the water’s edge to wet the washcloth and refill the water bottle.

When she returned, she kneeled in front of Lee.

»You should take off your jacket…s«.

»Sure, but don’t think I don’t know that this is all a clever ploy to see me naked again«.

Sophia rolled her eyes at him, but she could not the fight the smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

»At least they didn’t beat that sophisticated sense of humour out of you«.

Still sitting, Lee shrugged off his jackets and the waistcoat, a lot more carefully than he had last night in front of her in the hotel room. It looked like it hurt when he pulled his arms free off the sleeves.

»Good, now let’s get this off too…«, Sophia said when he was in his shirt. It was not nearly as damp as her own clothes. Clearly those confounding layers of leather had her own jacket beat.

»Maybe you could help me with that«. Lee’s good eye flashed at her, and Sophia readily gave in. She leaned in to open the buttons, one by one, her face close to his.

There was a subtle change in Lee’s breathing, and when she pulled the shirt free of his pants to get the last buttons open, he swallowed and reached for her face. Lips parted, his fingers lightly caressed her cheek.

»Damn, I wish we were still in that room…«.

Sophia smiled at him before turning her attention to his naked torso. »All things considered, I’m quite happy with where we are«.

She gently examined him in the moonlight. His chest and side were covered in large bruises whose deep shades of red, blue, and dirty yellow would no doubt look even more grisly in the daylight tomorrow.

»Purely theoretically speaking, though, what would you have done if we were still in that room...?«, she asked, attempting to distract him a bit as she felt his side.

Lee stifled a groan as her fingers moved over his ribs.

»I would have gotten you out of those wet clothes…«.

»And then?«

»And then I would not have let you get out of that bed until I figured out how to make you scream my name«.

Sophia smiled, though not looking up at him.

»I can exclusively reveal that you got very close this morning«.

Lee grinned and threaded his fingers through her hair, brushing it back as she went over his ribs.

»In that case, I know exactly where I would start…«

»I might hold you to that later«. Heat was already pooling between Sophia’s legs.

»By all means, do«.

Incredibly, it appeared his ribs had all survived the soldiers’ boots. Bruised, but not broken. The aeronaut must have been born under particularly a lucky star, Sophia thought to herself, as she moved on to clean the blood off his face and hair.

Lucky for all of them, as they likely needed Lee in fighting shape for whatever lay ahead up the river.

He sat still and looked at her while she worked, and for the second time since reuniting with him that afternoon, a sense of déjà vu flickered in Sophia’s mind. She saw her fingers run through his mussed sex hair, trying to smooth it down before he went downstairs to get them drinks from the bar. The skin of his face still smooth and flushed, his eyes big and honest and a deep warm brown in the low light of the hotel room.

It was hard to believe that they had only known each other for 24 hours.

In the moonlight, Lee looked pale as a ghost. He belonged in the sun, Sophia thought. In the sky. Not in dark places, even if the night was beautiful like now.

They would have to wait for the swelling around his eye to go down a bit before being able to tell if there was long-lasting damage to the eye itself, or the surrounding tissue.

Likewise, time would reveal if he had a concussion.

As for the rest of his face, he did have a couple of nasty cuts, but not as many as the amount of blood had first suggested, and none that would not heal. Sophia applied some of the disinfectant and Lee tried not to flinch. There would be scars, but they could have been worse.

»There. As good as new«, Sophia said when she was done. She was infinitely relieved not to have found any gaping holes in his skull, or a row of broken bones.

»I’m pretty amazed your nose endured those blows«.

Lee grunted, looking at the blood red cloth in Sophia’s hands.

»It didn’t«.

»What?«

»I reset it. In the cell, right before you showed up«.

»Oh«. Sophia was not one to feel faint at the sight of injuries, but the resetting of bones had always made her a bit nauseous. It was the sound.

She was secretly glad Lee had done it himself.

»Thank you«. The aeronaut reached for her elbow and pulled her closer. »I feel like I’ve repeated that a bunch since last night, but I mean it. I’m not quite sure what I did to deserve running into you«.

»You’re welcome«.

Sophia leaned in to meet his lips, and with his other hand Lee gently cradled her neck. Again, she wanted to wrap her arms around his. Again, she settled for placing her hands on his shoulders instead.

His kiss was at once both soft and hungry, and when he started opening her jacket, first loosening the belt around her waist, then getting to work on the buttons, she let him.

If nothing is broken, let him be the judge of how much…movement is too much. Sophia wanted his hands on her naked skin. 

Now.

She wiggled out of her jacket, then stood up and removed her shirt while looking down at Lee. She stripped out of her boots and pants, too.

Lee leaned back, supporting himself on his arms. He had that dazed look on his face again, like the world around them had fallen away.

She kneeled and gently pushed him down so that he was lying on his jacket and tugged off his boots.

He smiled but did not say anything.

Sophia paused before reaching for his belt buckle. »Do you mind if I take off your pants? We’ll both get warmer quicker under the blanket if-«

»Is this a trick question?«. Lee smirked at her.

»Right. How silly of me«.

Her heartbeat quickened as the little metallic clacks of the buckle brought back yet more very recent memories.

Once she had gotten his pants off (leaving his pistol holster next to him), she bundled all their garments into her arms and hung it on the lowest branches of the nearest tree where the forest began.

The night air was making her shiver, but it was heaven to be free of her wet clothes at last. When she returned to Lee, she reached for the large blanket, laid down next to the aeronaut on his good side, and pulled the fabric over both their bodies.

As long as they were lying close together, they both fit on Lee’s jacket.

Byron and Hester were curled up on the sand next to each other.

Sophia rolled onto her side so she could look at Lee.

»What a strange, strange day this has been«, he was saying, staring up at the billions of stars above them. »And believe me, I’ve seen some strange days over the past month or so«.

»At least it the ended well«, Sophia said, kissing his earlobe.

He smiled and the black lashes of his unhurt eye fluttered shut for a second.

»Started pretty damn amazing, too. Then of course there were a few messy bits in the middle there…«

He opened his eye and turned his head to flash his most brilliant smile at her, slightly crooked as it was in his condition.

To Sophia, it was like being hit with a blast of pure serotonin.

But her throat felt tight.

It was the same smile he had given her that morning when he left.

How deeply ironic that Marisa Coulter’s interest in Lee had saved his life. No matter the long game the woman was playing, though, for this act of calculated mercy Sophia was infinitely grateful.

Lee shifted onto his side as well so that they were facing each other. He rested his palm in the dip of her waist, his thumb softly caressing her skin.

»You know, we still barely know anything about each other«, he mused.

»What, you mean to tell me that all your tales of past adventures last night weren’t true?«, Sophia smiled cheekily.

»No, they were true«, he smiled back. »Although, if I’m being honest, some of them I’m not as proud of as it may have sounded«. The night was still light enough that Sophia could see the shadow that passed over his features, making his smile look sad.

»Oh?«

»I may…have left out a few details here and there«.

 »That’s okay. We all have baggage«.

»Some more than others. For a long time, it felt like I was better at causing trouble than much else«.

»Want to tell me about it?

»Someday, maybe«.  

Sophia reached up to carefully run her fingers through his thick hair. She would never tire of the feeling.

»No matter what happened in your past, you’re doing a great thing now. An honourable thing. For the love of an extraordinary child who may be destined to change the world, no less. There’s no detracting from that, Lee Scoresby«.

She kissed him before he could mumble anything self-deprecating.

It was a long, deep kiss, during which Sophia’s fingertips wandered lightly, very lightly down the aeronaut’s neck and chest.

»I’m usually a pretty good judge of character«, she whispered when their lips parted. »And you’ve made an excellent first impression«.

»Oh, yeah?«, Lee smiled. »You sure that wasn’t just my special aeronaut skills?« His fingers traced the waistband of her underwear.

»Well, those are very persuasive skills…«. Heat was pooling between Sophia’s legs, and she squeezed her thighs together.

How many times had he been inside her since last night?

Not nearly enough times to satiate her lust for him.

She could not help herself: Her hand travelled down further, over the front of his underwear. His breathing caught in his throat when she rubbed her palm over his cock. It did not surprise her to find him hard. His hand tensed on her waist, and as their lips met again, even hungrier than before, the way his tongue played with hers elicited sweet little moans from her.

When she pressed her body closer to his, while still rubbing his cock with her palm, he broke the kiss and groaned.

»I’m sorry, did I hurt you?« Sophia whispered.

»You’ll hurt me more if you stop«.

»I don’t want you to get worse…«. Sophia failed to make it sound very convincing, even as somewhere deep inside she did feel bad for letting her thirst overrule her concerns for the aeronaut’s wellbeing.

»Believe me, this makes me feel better«, he said.

»You sure?«

»Turn around…«. His voice was husky. It sent goosebumps up her spine.

»Now you’re just being plain reckless«, Sophia said playfully as she did what he asked. And instantly regretted her choice of words.

But Lee just hummed into her hair, and he wrapped his arm around her midriff to pull her body closer.

»I was kindly reminded today that you only live once«, he said, though not sounding too burdened by the fact. »And also«, he paused to kiss her neck, »you did just strip naked in the moonlight in front of me«.

»Not completely naked«.

»An oversight easily fixed«.

Lee unhooked Sophia’s bra behind her back and slid the strap down her shoulder. He reached around her to cup her breast, his fingertips brushing over her hard nipple, but his touch was delicate.

Teasing.

»Lie still for me«, he whispered as he pulled down her panties, too, and Sophia fought every urge to grind her ass against him.

She felt him free his erection, and then his fingers were between her thighs once more, finding her entrance as dripping wet as when he last fucked her in the morning. He slipped the tip of a digit into her, trying the slickness, then added one more.

By the time when, a minute later, he proceeded to rub the head of his cock against her opening before pushing into her, Sophia felt like her entire body was aflame with raging desire to be fucked senseless. But even though he moved slowly, so slowly as he buried his cock in her, his raspy breathing left no doubt that it hurt his side.

He could not do to her what he had done in the morning. Or last night, when he had taken her in the exact same position as this, only with increasingly crushing, thrilling force. Sophia knew this through the haze of her feralness, and still the most selfish little whimper spilled over her lips as her body trembled with the effort to stay still.

»Can’t do more than this, I’m afraid«, the aeronaut whispered, reading her mind.

His hand on her hip, he continued his measured thrusts into her and chuckled when Sophia, despite herself, reached back over her shoulder to claw at his hair for something of him to hold onto to.

»Do I have to tie your hands?«

He was teasing her, but the words alone made Sophia’s pussy clench around his cock. Oh, she very much wanted to come back to that.

Even if that particular scenario might inspire Lee to torture her to no ends…

»I just want to touch you so badly«, she panted.

»Next time«, came the hoarse reply behind her. She was not the only one practising restraint.  »For now, this is all I got…« His hand slid down her stomach and between her legs, and when his fingers found her clit, Sophia mewled as he began to tease her bundle of nerves.

It felt like more payback for when she had tested him earlier.

The incredibly hot, very welcome kind of payback.

Still moving slowly deep inside her, with two fingers he massaged her. And when he applied a bit more pressure, she knew he was going to ease another orgasm from her.

Just like that.

Had he been someone else, someone less important to her, Sophia’s pride might have been slightly bruised at how he was able to play her like a delicate instrument, his cock and fingers bringing her to what felt like the edge of her sanity with impossible speed.

He was completely in control of her body’s response to his ministrations, and it was both terrifying and the hottest thing she had ever experienced.

Don’t lose yourself…

If Lee wanted to watch her fall apart under him, he would simply make her.

She did not know precisely how aware he was of his power over her yet, but from the way he now kept working her, making her whimper and gasp and even beg for her release, she suspected he knew.

»Not just yet, gorgeous…« he whispered, kissing her shoulder, and if Sophia had not been moaning so desperately, she would have let him know that he was going to make her pass out for real this time, if he continued toying with her.

But he did, and she did not.

And when her orgasm started building, the sensation of the slow burn was so great she could scarcely breathe. She hardly registered the way Lee’s cock throbbed inside her as his own climax approached, that the blanket had slipped off their bodies, or that Lee gave her permission to let go in that gravelly sex growl of his.

But she did feel the way his fingers played her clit, moving in a determined circular motion until the stars fell right out of the sky as the universe exploded before her eyes.

And it just went on.

Only when Lee whispered her name as he came inside her, was she brought back on Earth, to the riverside. He was hugging her tightly, much too tightly for his own comfort, but he did not let go.

Sophia Colt was no hopeless romantic.

She did not fall for sappy tales of love at first sight, or sugary courtships.

But there it was:

Her heart flowing right out of her and into the warm palm of the aeronaut’s hand.

Caught on the beach in the bright flashlight of the moon, she was completely and utterly lost.

.

.

.

.

.

Thank you for reading!

The journey will continue shortly ...

[runawaymarbles]

handbinding project: He Says He Is An Experimental Theologian, part 1 of @bicatperson's WTNV/HDM crossover.

This is a remake of one I did three years ago (lent it to a friend, he moved, making an entirely new book seemed like less work than coordinating with the friend of a friend he left it with.) The original typeset was a 6x9 so I had to readjust it to fit 5.5x8.5, and I also changed out the symbols so they'd print more easily. The new ones are a font made by the wonderful rosed from the Renegade Bindery discord.

Fun fact: the arrangement of the hands on the cover also correlates to specific alethiometer symbols because I got that in the weeds about it all.

This cover was a motherfucker and a half because heat transfer vinyl is out to ruin my life: on the original version, I applied the spine art it to the fabric before putting it on the cover, so that I could make sure it was centered. I then tried to use the same HTV to put the symbol on the cover, which did not work no matter how many times and how much heat I tried. (I realized later I'd forgotten to heat the cover first.) So then I tried to peel it up, and it didn't come all the way, so I took that cover off (hooray for wheat paste) and tried putting the vinyl on the fabric before I made the case. despite measuring multiple times, the circle ended up waaay off center. Possibly because I was trying to do this at 11pm. Eventually I just went to Joann's and bought adhesive vinyl, and only adhesive vinyl, even though there was a sale and all vinyl was 40% off. I ended up having to replace the beehive with the night vale eye, because the beehive symbol was a bunch of little lines the adhesive did nOT like, but I think the Night Vale eye looks better anyway.

[fern-stone]

You’re Where I Belong

Read on ao3

Lyra/Will, post-canon, reunion fic

2.5k, T Rated

At age 25, Lyra finds Will again.

[tragicotps]

Young Masriel au [part 1: First meeting]: Recently returned from one of his expeditions, Asriel plans to crash one of Edward Coulter's exclusive dinner parties for networking purposes. At the door he's greeted by a mysterious and attractive young woman, who turns out to be married to the party host and coincidentally one of his biggest political rivals.

[i-was-bored-so-this-happened]

Sanchez & Scoresby Chapter Two: Ma

Fandom: His Dark Materials Wordcount: 4.5k Warnings: Canon-typical violence, funeral

The Gyptians travel across the North in search of their missing children

Read on AO3 Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m cold, Lee.” Kit bites out, her shoulders shuddering.

“Hell, Kit, I can’t control the weather.” Lee replies, and Kit pulls a hand out of a pocket to hit his arm with. She sidesteps so that she bumps into Lee and stays there as she walks, hoping to leech some of his body heat. Eli, sitting on the balloon as it’s dragged along, curls into a tighter ball as Hester shuffles closer to him.

“I’m not cold.” Lyra interjects.

“We’re from Texas, kiddo, we ain’t made for the cold.”

“Isn’t the wind cold up in the sky?”

“That’s a dry cold, the wind. Down here, it’s damp cold.”

“Why aren’t you up in the balloon now?”

“Savin’ it for when it’s needed.” Lee answers.

“Wouldn’t it be useful to have a view of what’s ahead?” Lyra asks. Pan hops up onto the folded-up balloon to nose around Eli’s head.

“We have.” Lee points upwards. Serafina Pekkela’s daemon, Kaisa, has been following them since they left Trollesund. Lee’s free fingers close around Kit’s wrist, “A witch’s daemon is a better eye in the sky than I’ll ever be. A witch would be even better.”

“Drop it, Lee.” Kit mutters.

“Mr Scoresby-” Lyra starts.

“Call me Lee.”

“We’re going to win this one, aren’t we? We’re going to get those children back?”

“Well, if I was a bettin’ man, I’d say no. And I am a bettin’ man. If I was Kit, I’d say yes because she’s stubborn. And I can tell by your face that you want me to say yes, so...yes.”

“You’re not an easy man to like, you know that, Lee?”

“So people tell me. But Hester likes me, Kit likes me. That’s something.”

“Hester don’t count, she don’t have a choice.” Eli mumbles, earning a hard stare from the hare.

“Why do you travel together, Miss Sanchez?” Lyra asks.

“Kit.” Kit corrects her.

“Kit.”

“We grew up together, kiddo. We were next-door-neighbours and our fathers were friends. Either we got on or we’d end up murdering each other, and he isn’t dead yet.”

“Hell, Kit, you’re makin’ me blush.” Lee says, in the hope it’ll make Kit smile, and it does.

“We left home together, been flyin’ ever since.”

“Why did you leave?” Lyra asks, and in a second she knows this was the wrong question to ask. They stop smiling and they break apart. Kit shoves her hands back into her pockets and Eli jumps down from the balloon’s sled.

“I’m going to go see if there’s any bread floatin’ around.” She announces before marching forward, her daemon bounding after her. Lee shakes his head.

“You ask a lotta questions, Lyra. They’re not always good ones.” It’s all he says before he takes off after Kit. She hears Lyra call an apology before Lee catches up with her.

***

Lee, of course and exactly as Kit expects, disappears the moment he’s needed to help put tents up, leaving Kit with a contraption neither she nor her daemon have ever understood. She’s trying to palm the task off to someone else, reaching Ma Costa and her elder son at the same moment Lyra does. Ma’s younger son, Billy, is one of the children taken by the Gobblers.

“Tony, look after the food.” Ma tells her son so she can turn her full attention to Lyra.

“I’ll burn it.” Tony tells her.

“I don’t care.”

“I’ll watch it.” Kit offers, crouching beside Tony and shoving the tent pack at him, “If you put up my tent. Food for shelter.” She takes cooking utensils from Ma and pokes at whatever stew is in the pot while Tony, grumbling to his daemon, marches away with the tent. Seal stew, probably, Kit thinks. Iorek had caught one earlier that day to use the blubber for armour polish and the Gyptians are not a wasteful people. Another advantage of helping Ma now is that Kit will be able to hear what Lyra’s saying to her, what she’s planning. Too many things in the world are revolving around this little girl for Kit to ignore.

“What do you think might be in this village?” Ma Costa asks the young girl.

“I’m not sure, but it might be some sort of ghost, I think. Something awful has happened there.” Lyra’s trying to explain as best she can. How she knows this, Kit has no idea...she’ll have to ask Farder Coram. He’s more likely to answer than John Faa.

“Why’s this ghost important?” Ma asks.

“I don’t know, but it might be a vital clue. It might help me find Roger and Billy.” Billy, Ma’s son. Roger, a kitchen boy from Oxford Lyra had known all her life. She’d told Kit and Lee all about Roger before she’d started asking questions.

“You’re asking me to trust you over-”

“No. No, I’m not. I’m asking you to trust this.” Lyra pulls out an odd, flat box that looks like it might be made of gold. The glint of it catches Kit’s attention, and Eli’s eyes follow it. Kit can understand what Ma Costa is saying. Lyra’s asking her to go against the person she trusts most, her leader. How this little box would sway her…

“You ask a lot. I need to think.”

***

Night falls quickly in the North. Tony, bless him, had done a good job with the tent, setting it next to where Ma and Lyra would be sleeping. Kit and Lee lean against their tent, a donated blanket around their shoulders as they pass a tin bowl of stew to each other between spoonfuls. Eli is curled up on the snow between Kit’s feet, and she can feel the chill of it on her back. Ma Costa and Lyra are lying on their stomachs in the mouth of their tent, talking to Serafina Pekkela’s daemon Kaisa.

“D’you know what an alethiometer is, Lee?” Kit speaks slowly, watching the fire crackling between the tents.

“Can’t say that I do.”

“Lyra’s got one. She talks about it, it’s what makes Coram and Faa trust her.” Kit explains. “Must be that little gold box she’s got…” Her voice trails off and her head tilts back a little.

“You’re thinkin’ too much, Kit. We’re here to get the kids, get paid and fly away.”

“I dunno, Lee. I gotta feelin’ about her. Lyra.”

“Like a premonition?”

“I don’t get premonitions, Lee.”

“Well, what kinda feeling?”

“There’s something about her. The Gyptians think she’s important. I think the witches do too.”

“The witches?” Lee asks as a weight tips onto his shoulder. Kit’s head.

“A witch wouldn’t send her daemon to tail us for days if we didn’t have something she wanted.”

“And you think that thing is Lyra?” Lee asks. He doesn’t get an answer. “Kit?” Her legs fall to the side, bumping into his. She’s fallen asleep. He lifts his hat off his head and places it over Kit’s face to prevent the light of the fire from waking her up and takes the empty tin bowl from her hand. When the aeronaut next looks at the fire, Ma Costa and Lyra have wriggled into their tent, as have many of the other Gyptians. Kaisa is still perched in the same place, his eyes fixed on the sleeping Kit.

***

The next day, as the Gyptians make their way up a snowless hill, the sky is a beautifully clear blue. Perfect flying weather. Lee and Kit are shouldering the balloon sled up the hill.

“Authority above, when are we gonna get a lunch?” Lee asks the clouds.

“You just had breakfast, Scoresby. Or did Lyra nick it again?”

“You’re a real comedian, you know that, Sanchez?”

“I’m taking that as a compliment.” Kit tells him.

“I’m just going to-”

“You’re just going to keep pushing the damn balloon, Lee Scoresby, you ain’t leavin’ me with it like you did yesterday.”

“You sound like my mother.”

“I knew your ma, that is a compliment.” Kit laughs. She watches Lyra, Lord Faa and Iorek talking as she and Lee pass with the balloon, but her gaze drifts past them to another well-respected Gyptian. “Eli, go and talk to Farder Coram, tell him I wanna speak with him when we make camp.”

“About that feeling?” Lee asks.

“Something like that.”

***

Kit takes perhaps a little too much pleasure in dropping the tent in Lee’s arms and marching towards Farder Coram. He smiles a little when he sees her, though there’s sadness in his eyes.

“What is it you wish to ask, child?”

“Lyra talks about an alethiometer. She says it’s what told her about this ghost in the fishing village. Thing is, Farder, I don’t rightly know what an alethiometer is and I’d like to find out.”

“I expected this. There were only ever six alethiometers made. The Magesterium has one, Lyra another. The whereabouts of the other four are unknown. An alethiometer is a truth-teller. There are...symbols around its circumference. You ask it a question and it answers using those symbols.”

“Then why is it so special that Lyra can understand it?”

“Alethiometers take a long time to understand, Miss Sanchez. Only a certain few can read them, and it takes years of study and isolation for the device to talk to them. Even then, hours are usually spent trying to decipher what the symbols mean. Lyra is special because she hasn’t done any of that study and she has no guide to it, but she can communicate with it perfectly.”

“I’m guessin’ no one’s ever done that before.” Kit pushes her hands into her pockets as her fingers grow icy again.

“You would be right to guess that.” Farder Coram nods.

“And that’s why y’all trust her so much.” Kit decides, “Why you’re letting her go to the village.”

“We can’t afford to turn all of the Gyptians around.”

“I understand, but she can’t go alone.”

“Iorek Byrnison is going with her.” Fard Coram is watching Kit expectantly, waiting for her judgement on this.

“Iorek’s the best protection she could have.” Kit nods, “We can hold until they return.”

“They’ll be leaving soon, I advise you say your goodbyes.” Farder Coram tells her, tapping his hat in farewell as he stamps through the snow away from her. From what Serafina Pekkela had told him the night before, Kit Sanchez was the next best thing to the armoured bear, though she hadn’t told him why.

Kit reaches Lyra and Iorek at the same time Lee does.

“What happened to the tent?” She asks, noting the ceramic mug in his hand.

“Tony’s doing it.”

“Tony did it yesterday!”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna miss this. Iorek’s first ride!” If Iorek could roll his eyes like a human, he would.

“I’m not heavy.” Lyra assures the bear.

“I’m not a horse.” Iorek counters. Lee is trying to disguise a laugh with his mug, but Iorek sees it.

“Kid, promise me this alethiometer thingy isn’t lying to you.” Lee says.

“It can’t. Tells the truth, don’t it, Lyra?” Kit cuts in, and Lyra nods.

“I trust it too.” Iorek agrees, outnumbering Lee’s doubts.

“Ghosts, I heard. You’re going to find a ghost?” He asks.

“Think so.” Lyra answers.

“Is that a sensible thing to do, look for ghosts?”

“I’ve never heard Lee Scoresby talk about being sensible before.” Iorek remarks, and this time it’s Kit that laughs. Lee laughs, but sarcastically, elbowing Kit.

“Kit?” Lyra asks, pulling the woman’s attention to her, “I’m sorry for asking questions.”

“Kiddo, you did nothing wrong, hear me? Ask as many questions as you like.” Kit pulls a yellow scarf from around her neck, “Now, you’re going to a fishing village. Be careful on the ice, I don’t want you fallin’ through.” Kit’s voice has hardened now. This isn’t just a suggestion. “And take this,” Kit hands her scarf to the girl, “Wrap it around your head. You’ll be able to see through it, but it’ll keep the cold and ice and stones out.”

“And don’t leave Iorek.” Lee adds, aiming a finger at Lyra, “There’s Tartars out there.”

“I will bring her back.” Iorek assures them, lifting a paw to help Lyra climb aboard. “I won’t be gentle.” He warns her.

“You two be good to each other, alright? Be careful.” Lee calls after them as Iorek pads away. Neither of them take their eyes off the bear. “You do like her, that was your favourite scarf. I got you that.”

“I’m not the only one going soft, Lee.” Kit points out quietly. Eli’s tail wraps around her ankle. Kit shakes her head. “Now, where is that sweater? I’ve been wearing it for three days but this morning it was gone…” Lee’s hand goes up to the back of his neck to try and hide the high neck of the jumper he’s wearing under his jacket, but Kit catches it, “Lee Scoresby, you-”

***

Kit pulls the sleeve of her newly-retrieved jumper over her hand to take a pot off the fire. It’s been a long, long time since she’s had eggs of any kind, and she’s rather looking forward to it.

“They’re just eggs, Kit. Boiled eggs.” Eli reminds her.

“Oh shush, you’re excited too.”

“Excited? Over eggs?”

“Yes, Eli, over eggs.” Kit tells him, pushing herself up to scoop the pair of eggs out of the pan. She drops them in the snow and rolls them around for a moment until they’re cool enough for her to pick up and chip away at. “I’m happy, I can be excited. I’m happy here. With Lee and Iorek and the Gyptians. And Lyra.” It sounds like she’s trying to justify something. There’s a niggling, familiar voice in the back of her head.

“It feels nice, don’t it? Having more than just Lee?”

“But that’s selfish…” The end of Kit’s sentence trails off. Eli lets the silence hang for a moment before he stretches out on the snow, wriggling contentedly.

“I like it here too, Kit. Ma is a good person. They’re all good people. Good pay, good food, a good cause and good people. You don’t have to feel bad for enjoying that.” Eli rolls over onto his back to stare up at the stars, but Kit has all but forgotten her boiled egg. The odd little fizzy feeling of excitement has dissipated. She feels guilty and Eli is trying to counteract that. Eli rolls back over, rubs his head into Kit’s hand. “Eat your eggs, Kit. Eggs are good too.”

Kit starts peeling at the shell of her egg again, her breath steaming in the cold air. Her nose feels like a marble of ice, and she shifts so that she sits on top of her feet. Around her, all the other Gyptians have settled down to their own dinners. She doesn’t know where Lee’s gone, and Lyra and Iorek are still gone. Kit is alone with her soul. Neither she or her daemon speak as Kit eats her hard-boiled eggs, but her eyes are burning with unshed tears.

Maybe an hour after Kit is finished eating, she’s still sitting in the same spot, her eyes still hot and stingy. Her eyes have been fixed on a distant tent for half an hour or more, but she doesn’t realise it. One of her feet has fallen asleep. The stumps where her right pinkie and left index fingers should be ache more than the rest of her, but she takes no notice. Takes no notice of anything until a new feeling washes over her. Something not unlike dread. 

“Ma!” Kit is on her feet in a moment, stumbling towards where Ma Costa and Tony are huddled around their fire.

“Kit? Kit, have you been-”

“Is Lyra back yet?” Kit blurts.

“No, no, she-”

“Where’s Lord Faa? Where’s Kaisa?”

“Kit?” Hester’s voice. Hester. Relief for a brief moment, “Kit, what’s happened?” Hester asks, hopping closer to Eli. His ears are flat, his tail bushed out.

“Something’s wrong. I need to speak to Kaisa!” Kit yells the last part into the night, knowing that wherever the witch’s daemon is, he’ll hear her.

“Kit, what the hell-” Lee’s caught up with Hester.

“Something’s wrong. I don’t know, I don’t…” She can’t form the words. She hears the flap of wings. “Kaisa, tell me-”

“I feel it too, child.”

“Feel what, for star’s sake?” Lee demands as Ma rises to her feet.

“Something’s wrong, and it’s coming this way.”

A bird call pierces through the heavy, uncomfortable silence that had fallen, and all heads turn. Iorek is back. Lyra is back. And…

“Billy? Is that my Billy!” Ma’s already crying as a little boy who can’t be more than seven is helped down from Iorek’s back. “Where’s Ratter, where’s his daemon? Is that my Billy?” The boy wobbles when he’s set onto his feet. “Billy, where’s Ratter?” The boy falls as Kit’s heart drops. Billy Costa has no daemon.

Deafening silence fills Kit’s ears as Ma lifts her younger son, carries him into a tent. Her sobs are the only sound to be heard. Everyone else has been stuck dumb by the shock of it. Everyone but Lee. Lyra had tried to go after Ma and Tony, but he’d stopped her. Kit doesn’t hear what he says, doesn’t hear anything until Lyra speaks,

“He was...he was without his daemon. Like a ghost.” Lyra’s voice is brittle, as if she’s already been crying, “The alethiometer was right. It was like...like he wasn’t there. Like he couldn’t even hear me.” Lyra. Lyra is too young for this.

“This must be what they do, this is what they take.” Lee says. His voice is level, but Hester’s ears are quivering. Eli is standing stock-still, like his human.

“It’s horrible.” Lyra croaks out.

“It’s worse than death.” Kit says the words without thinking.

“Why would they take someone’s daemon?”

“It’s about control, isn’t it? Because if you can remove someone’s soul, you can do anything.” Lee explains, still calm while Kit’s shoulders are inching their way up to her ears, her hands balling into fists. That burning feeling behind her eyes is back. She doesn’t ever register Iorek shuffling away. “Hey. You did a brave thing, kid. A good thing. I am proud of you.” Lee tells her. This is what makes Kit turn. She crouches in front of Lyra, holding onto her hands.

“You did the right thing, Lyra. You found Billy. You will find Roger. Lee’s right to be proud of you. I am too. You did good. Now we’re going to get you into the tent and get you warmed up, alright?” Kit sniffs loudly, waits for Lyra to nod before she stands again. Kit keeps her hands on Lyra’s shoulder as she guides her away.

***

Lee doesn’t want to wake either of them up. Wishes he didn’t have to. Eli lies at Lyra’s feet, curled around stoat-formed Pan. He can’t see Lyra’s face, but Kit always looks at her most peaceful asleep. He knows that there are tear tracks on both of their faces. Kit had been near tears before Lyra had come back, but when Lee had asked why, all she’d said was, “Eggs.”

“Kit. Kit. C’mon, Kit.”

“I don’t want to.” Kit replies, her face screwing up.

“You gotta.”

“Shit.”

“Yep.”

Kit has never experienced a Gyptian funeral before, and she wishes she didn’t have to experience this one. Billy Costa had been seven years old. He didn’t stand a chance out there on his own. Lee and Kit stand, watching, waiting, as Lyra steps towards the pyre Billy’s little body has been laid on. Ma Costa watches the girl as she lifts the blanket, looks at the little boy’s face. Both of them stand as John Faa and Farder Coram approach them, Lyra turning to Ma to be held. Kit is close enough to hear the words exchanged between Lord Faa and Ma Costa.

“Now we know what terrible wickedness these people are capable of. Now we can see our duty plainer than ever. We have to fight.”

“We have to kill.”

Ma lets go of Lyra, who turns and shuffles slowly away from the pyre. When she reaches Kit and Lee, Kit’s arms are already open, pulling the girl close to her. At the touch, Lyra’s face crumples and everything she’d been holding onto since she had returned spills out in tears. Kit can’t remember the last time a child had hugged her, cried in front of her. Lyra can’t remember the last time she’d turned to an adult for this kind of comfort, this kind of release. Kit pulls her closer, her head bent over Lyra’s. She can feel her own scarf beneath her fingers, knows Eli is pushing himself against Lyra’s legs to support them.

“Ma’s right. Kill the buggers. They deserve it.” Kit’s words are harsh, her tone hard as her chin wobbles and tears spill over. Lee’s head rests against hers as his own arm goes around Lyra, a familiar gesture of comfort usually shared between himself and his daemon. The Gyptians have formed a semi-circle around the pyre, a semi-circle of solemn faces most likely holding back tears. Billy wasn’t just Ma’s son. He was a son to all of them.

After several minutes, Lyra breaks the little huddle to wipe angrily at her tears, as if she’s ashamed of them. She sandwiches herself in between Lee and Kit to watch Ma light the pyre as everyone pulls their hats off, the universal symbol of respect at a funeral. Ma breaks down into sobs, has to lean on Tony as all the Gyptians around Lee, Lyra and Kit start to hum the same tune. None of them know the words, so the three of them stand in silence. This is not how funerals are done in Texas. Lyra is as stiff as the snow around them, refusing to show the weakness she sees crying to be. Unbeknownst to her, the adults either side of her are doing the same thing.

No one moves until the fire dies. Lyra is almost dropping from exhausting, but she’s fighting sleep. Eli picks up stoat-formed Pan as gently as if he were his own kitten as Lee wraps an arm around Kit, resting a hand on Lyra’s shoulder. In the tent, Lyra sits between them. Hester hops to the mouth of the tent to keep some kind of watch. Lyra’s head falls onto Lee’s shoulder, and Kit’s hand goes to the girl’s hair. There’s silence for what feels like too long.

“Once upon a time, there was a man who lived on the moon.” Kit blurts. Lee frowns at her, confused, but Lyra doesn’t move. Kit repeats herself, “Once upon a time, there was a man who lived on the moon.”

“He didn’t always live on the moon. He used to live on Earth, but on Earth he had no family, no friends. He was lonely. And every night he would look up at the moon and think to himself, If I’m lonely down here, there must be people lonely up there. The man worked and worked and built a special blimp that he could sail through the clouds and past the stars to land on the moon…”

By the time Kit is halfway through the story, Lyra has slid down onto the floor, asleep. Kit keeps going, but falters at a certain point and looks to Lee, who had been watching her since Lyra fell asleep.

“Man on the moon. Not quite how Ma used to tell it.” He says after a moment.

“I couldn’t remember all the words.”

“You didn’t give it an ending.”

“We never stayed awake long enough for an ending.”

“True.” Lee hesitates before asking, “Since when did you like kids enough to tell ‘em bedtime stories?”

“Since when did you?” Kit counters pointedly, but then she takes her hand away from Lyra’s hair. “I know. This is just another job worth far more than the gold they’re givin’ us. It’s not like I’m getting attached or anything-”

“No. No, Kit, I don’t think it is.” Lee interrupts, and Kit frowns at him. “Whatever this is...it is so much bigger than us. I know we like to tease the Magesterium, but this...this is fightin’ ‘em head-on.”

“They deserve it, Lee. What they’re doin’,” Kit doesn’t want to have to say it again, “it ain’t right.”

“That’s true too.” Is all Lee says. Words aren’t really needed beyond that point. They’re thinking with the same mind. This is a fight they’ll see through to the end.

***

Lyra wakes up at the sound of Pan’s voice. Her eyes open to see Kit’s face. For the first time since she’d met her, Kit’s brow isn’t furrowed. She looks at peace, one of her hands reaching out over Lyra’s head. Lyra turns her head to see Lee still asleep too, though he’s wriggled halfway out of his blanket.

“I heard something, Lyra.” Pan reminds her. Whatever it was, it’s got him worked up. Lyra crawls out of the tent and pulls her hat on. She wanders towards where a tin teapot still dangles over a dead fire, but she doesn’t see anything. Pulling her gloves on, Lyra turns in a circle. At least, she starts to turn. She stops when she notices a man lying on the ground, and in an instant knows he’s dead. She registers some kind of noise behind her, but she can’t move. Something heavy slams into her head, and Lyra doesn’t know anything anymore.

A few hours later, the breeze through the still-open flap of the tent gets too cold for Kit to ignore anymore. Lee had pulled off her blanket and covered his head with it a while ago, and she’s been getting colder and colder since. She registers that Lyra is no longer lying in the space between herself and her friend, and mutters.

“Gee, Lyra, thanks for closin’ door after yourself.” Kit’s words come out fluffy, not fully formed. She reaches out, pulls the flap shut and tugs her blanket off Lee, shuffling closer to him in an effort to find more warmth. She’s in that odd limbo where her eyes are too heavy to keep open but she isn’t fully asleep when Eli sticks his head out under the now-closed flap of the tent.

“Kit!”

“Wha? Eli, ‘s too early.”

“There’re bodies.”

“Bodies?!” Kit sits up as she asks the question, but Eli’s already wiggled out of the tent. Kit can feel the cold of the snow on her feet. She pokes Lee’s shoulder. Eli comes back, a red glove in his mouth. Lyra’s glove. “No. Lee. Lee!”

“‘M asleep.”

“Lyra’s gone.”

“Huh?”

“Lyra’s gone. Eli says there are bodies outside.”

“Kit, what’re you-” Kit huffs and rips the tent open, crawling out into the snow without her outerlayers. Eli’s right. Directly across from their tent is a dead Gyptian man. Some other Gyptians are awake, crowding around the body. His wife is crying. The words Tartar and Gobbler are being thrown around. Kit reaches back and pulls at Lee’s foot.

“Lee, the Tartars found us.” She tells him. He uses her shoulder to pull himself upright, his face sticking out of the tent next to hers. A Gyptian sees them then, calls out to them,

“Where’s the girl?”

Kit knows the answer. It’s a terrible answer. But if the Tartars have been here...

“Bolvanger.”