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Two.
There were two, or there would be. Somehow the world had looked at her rather quite precarious predicament and decided to make it worse.
The day Marisa found out she was having not one but two babes from that wretched affair she and Asriel had been having was the day she’d decided her life had taken a turn she couldn’t pull it back from. One child, she could almost explain. Hope it resembled her enough to pass it off as Edwards. One child could be raised here in the house with almost no questions if she was lucky. If not, well then it wouldn’t be so difficult to fake a death and send the child to live in the north with Asriel. She wasn’t attached to it and though she was loathe to admit it he might do a sight better at raising it, especially if it was a son. A student who could never leave him, someone to learn all he had to give. The other options were never spoken of and rarely thought of. Both Marisa and Asriel were too proud and conceited to let the children be raised by an orphanage never to be seen again.
To lie and say Asriel had forced himself on her wouldn’t be hard, watching him lose everything he loved wouldn’t be difficult either, no the hard part would be the possibility of her child, their child, being killed by a lie spoken to save its parents. Edward would never allow her to keep the child and there was a very good chance he wouldn’t even allow the child to continue to draw breath if he thought it the product of another man.
But two. Almost impossible to fake two deaths and she hated the odds of trying to pass off one of the babes if it looked like Asriel. The Authority would spite her before letting her have twins that would pass as her and Edwards.
Her first thought had been to send for Asriel and demand he fix the mess which he had made. Hope that he would have a better solution to this endless problem she had, but Marisa couldn’t admit to him that she was failing and so she’d decided to send both the children to Asriel as soon as they were born. They could be his problem to deal with then, she would have already done her nine months and that would be that.
The technicalities of finding a way to lie about both dying was something for the ever-nearing future as the months ticked on. By some stroke of luck, Edward was to be out of town for almost three weeks starting nine days before she was projected to have the twins. He of course was elated not to have to stand by his wife as she supposedly brought his heirs into this world and Marisa was glad for his absence because that would make this so much easier. Easier to lie, to send the babes away, to lock away a part of her heart once she was alone. Asriel of course had already been told of the plan. They’d worked out weeks ago how this whole thing could go as seamlessly as possible.
But in the quiet of a still house and her own thoughts running rampant in her mind, she was forced to acknowledge that maybe this wouldn’t work. A high pitched grunt came from a spot by the window and before she could stop herself she opened her mouth.
"Don’t you think I know that." She snapped upset that her own feelings reflected that of her golden monkey and he wasn’t making it any easier to swallow down the rising fear she had. More and more she’d been losing control over her daemons behavior and she knew it was because of the babies. He had clutched onto the one spare thought she’d had of keeping the twins and he hadn’t let it go since then. She'd never expected to feel maternal and she wasn't sure if she was even feeling that but something had changed once she wasn't able to hide her pregnancy anymore. She'd been less inclined to let people touch her ever-growing stomach or to let Edward too close to the children she was shielding inside. They were unspoiled by the world and she almost longed to keep them safe and together forever. She almost let herself wonder what it might be like to chose Asriel, to choose them. Those thoughts were few and fleeting when they came but they were enough to shake both her and Ozymandias. But they’d been over it a million and one times and Asriel was the only way this could work. Marisa knew it and so somewhere underneath the underlying resentment, Ozymandias knew it too.
"You agreed to the plan when last Stelmaria was around." She reminded him not even bothering to respond to the hiss he sent her way at mentioning the snow leopard.
————
Marisa remembers the conversation well. One of the only ones they’d ever had in private with any sort of distance between the two of them. Her stomach was already beginning to become uncomfortably large and the few flutters she’d felt until recently had evolved into a series of swift and hard kicks especially delivered just under her ribs at all hours of the day and if she was being honest the night as well. Marisa watched as Stelmaria had walked in the door and come right up to her sniffing and huffing, just letting her nose graze along the tight curve of her stomach before padding over to the chair Asriel sat in and dropping down to the ground at his feet, much to the despair of the golden monkey perched just on the edge of the couch out of reach.
Of course, both daemons were interested in her now that she was essentially carrying their children as well. Ozymandias had all but screeched at her when she’d decided the babies would be sent north with their father. She could feel the turmoil still roiling in him even now as they discussed the details of it.
Asriel couldn’t be here when the birth happened, too many questions would be asked and they’d never be able to make this work if he was. So they also thought it best if he stayed near Oxford in his own home until the twins were delivered to him shortly after the birth. Apparently, he’d been interviewing for a nurse to care for them and he’d found a Gyptian woman he was certain would do well. One who would keep her mouth shut in exchange for a large sum he was willing to pay for secrecy. She was to come down and collect the babies once Marisa let them know and then take them back north to Asriel.
"What of their names?" Stelmaria had asked from her position on the floor barely even lifting her head to look at Asriel as she spoke. They all glanced around waiting for someone to speak up about it first. It’s Ozymandias who answers her and his voice, such a deep baritone, and it never failed to send very hair on end when he finally decided to grace the world with his voice, even after all these years.
"Everyone gets one name." He said no more and turned his head slowly to his left to look at Marisa with eyes full of something she isn't quite able to put her finger on. It isn’t exactly hatred but it could very well be fury at having to voice what she won’t.
"Once they’re born I’ll name one of the babies and Ozymandias will name the other one's daemon. Then once you have them you can name the second child and Stelmaria can name the named child’s daemon." Marisa elaborates, explaining what her monkey had so cryptically left off.
It had taken them almost an hour to decide how they would choose who to name and in the end, Asriel would name the oldest baby and Stelmaria would name the youngest daemon. They also agreed that neither could be upset by the name the other had chosen and that they would wait to decide on a name until seeing the baby in question with their own eyes.
They both knew Asriel would likely pawn the children off as soon as he was able but he’d never be able to leave them completely and for them, that was enough. They’d ended their discussion much how they ended every evening they’d ever spent together, wrapped around each other hiding their hearts but not exactly able to keep their souls hidden as his leopard was curled around her golden monkey and purring deep in her chest.
———
Now with two swaddled bundles laying in front of her on the bed, she knew that the choice they’d made was the right one. The only one, for all involved. Both babes were girls and they were night and day from one another. Or maybe that was just how Marisa saw them. They looked so different from each other even though the midwife had remarked on their similarities before departing.
The youngest whom Marisa had named Lyra after the constellation she and Asriel had talked about in their first conversation was practically the spitting image of her father. If Marisa hadn’t just spent the better part of eight hours laboring to bring her into this world she might have suspected some foul play on Asriel’s part. Her eyes were a dark gray that Marisa suspected would turn into the deep brown that she had seen spark with a brilliant fire when passionate about something, and held mischief just beyond the surface, the same brown Marisa was more than familiar with and if she was an honest woman she might even say she missed those eyes. Lyra’s hair was dark brown and held just the barest hint of a wave. Her nose and forehead looked as though they’d been plucked from Asriel himself and made miniature before being deposited onto her tiny face. Her unnamed daemon was curled around her neck in the purest white form of an ermine, which had probably been what prompted the midwife to wrap her into a snow-white blanket before handing her over to Marisa once she’d been cleaned up.
The oldest resembled Marisa more. Her hair was a dark brown like her sister and while she had less than Lyra did, it had curled at the tips as it dried. Her lips were small and thin and seemed permanently pursed so far as if she’d heard some bad news. Her nose was what any other mother might call a ‘button nose’ while her chin was something she and Lyra had in common. Her eyes were just another thing that set her apart from her sister. They were lighter and already very blue. Marisa knew of course that eye color wasn’t significant in an infant but she was certain it would be her own eyes that would look back at the world. Marisa longed to know her name as she did her sisters. Her jaguar cub daemon who Ozymandias had named Quillon was wriggling trying to snuggle against her to get comfortable but was only managing to dislodge the light gray blanket wrapped around them.
Settled next to each other as they were Marisa could stare at them and really commit them to memory. She let her fingers trace over furrowed brows and tiny noses, watched as they still gravitated toward the other even in sleep, let small hands wrap around her finger, and smiled as still damp hair slid against her fingers. She did her best to remember everything about them, once they were gone that was it, for who knew how long. They wouldn't really be dead but she would still feel the loss, would still know part of her was empty forever now.
Marisa had sent word north as soon as she felt the first pang of labor pains so she knew she’d only be allowed to be alone with them for maybe another hour if she was lucky. The midwife had cleared out rather quickly and Asriel had assured her that the stout woman would keep her mouth closed and also somehow arrange the necessary documentation with the magisterium that Edward would need as ‘proof’ that the children hadn’t made it. He wouldn’t ask to see the bodies and he wouldn’t force her to hold a funeral service if she didn’t want. Which she did not want because her children were alive and well and laying in front of her. And though she was sure she could conjure up tears and act the part of a grieving mother because in a way she would be a grieving mother she was sure she wouldn’t be able to stand the pity people would throw at her. No, quickly and quietly would be the way this was wrapped up, and then she’d think no more about it and continue on with her research and her life.
With the clock on the mantle taunting her with every tick she did her best not to think of the coming minutes, hours, and days.
———
The letter she received a week after her arms had been emptied and her heart left bereft was simple. Two sentences and not signed.
'𝕀 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕕 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕄𝕒𝕚𝕒. 𝕊𝕥𝕖𝕝 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕕 𝕙𝕚𝕞 ℙ𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕞𝕠𝕟.'
Maia. The oldest of the seven sisters star cluster. She felt able to breathe now that she knew. It wasn't what she needed to be back to 'normal' just yet but it was enough. Ozymandias seemed more at ease knowing Lyras daemon was named too. She tucked the note into the box at the back of her wardrobe which held the gray and white blankets before shoving it back into place and vowing to never open it again.