A/N: Happy Valentine's Day, Lovelies! This story has gotten slightly out of hand, so it has been sectioned into a multi-chapter fic and one chapter will be posted each day until Valentine's Day. My prompt will be revealed at the end of the story.

May 1902

The war was nearly over and Robert Crawley had been released. On its last legs, the battles had become a formality more than necessity, and there was talk that a peace treaty was about to be signed. A month earlier he had been called into his commander's barracks and received the news: for him, the war was in fact over. Released with thanks for his service, Robert was finally free to leave the horrid place behind him and get back to where he truly belonged.

Robert had been so excited to return home to his wife and daughters that he packed his bags with the speed of a thief, throwing things in carelessly and with a reckless abandon of a man desperate to be close to his family.

And so he had taken his poorly packed luggage and set off for Downton early one May morning.

It took him nearly two weeks to settle back into life at Downton before realizing that not all was as he had left it, many months before. He had taken leaves sporadically, spending frenzied weekends with Cora in London or a few weeks at home with the family when he could, but the last month of war had been trying, and he had not seen his family in rather a long time.

The girls had seemingly grown into different people—Mary with her sharp tongue and steely gaze, Edith with her silent resolve, and Sybil with her utterly endless chatter. They were no longer babies, but rather, young women of ten, eight and six.

And then there was Cora; Cora who, well, looked utterly exhausted.

He saw it in her eyes just as soon as the car brought him up the drive upon his return. They were all standing outside waiting for him, his family and staff, but he could in the hunch of her shoulders and the strain of her smile that something was not quite right.

The girls had run to him, squealing with delight and throwing their small arms around him, as if they were afraid that he would disappear right before their eyes if they weren't careful. Even Mary, who at first seemed content to watch from afar, hugged him tightly and murmured how much she had missed him.

When his fascination had worn off a few moments later and the girls ran into the house to raid the library for tea biscuits, he had finally been allowed a moment with his wife. Wrapping his arm around hers, he led her inside and away from the prying eyes of the servants. Kissing her soundly as soon as they entered the main hall, he felt his body finally relax, and his heart stitch back together; the missing pieces were finally back within his grasp. He had his girls and life could return to normal. But when Cora pulled out of his grasp seconds later, taking his hand and explaining that she had tea waiting in the library, he couldn't help but be slightly perplexed.

It was Cora, but somehow it wasn't. Her kiss was quick and almost an afterthought. Her grasp was firm, rather as though she was leading a child, and her voice was strained from its usual gentle quality. Her gaze was soft and happy, but when he held her close he could feel tension returned in her embrace.

He watched her flinch upon entering the library to find the girls covered in crumbs, all the delicate tea sandwiches resting in their laps as they ate. Only Sybil looked up at them as they entered, grinning widely and revealing a mouth full of food.

Cora looked like she might cry.

Instead, she mumbled something about having to discuss dinner with Mrs. Hughes and wandered out of the library, leaving him with his three messy girls. Mary scolded them, saying something about ruining Mama's special tea, but they seemed utterly absorbed in the task of eating, so Robert hadn't bothered to inquire any further.

He was simply glad to be home.

Hours later, after a successful dinner with his mother, sister and brother-in-law all in attendance, Robert found his wife in front of her vanity, inspecting the pins as she removed them from her hair. Her maid was nowhere in sight and she looked to be dressed for bed—her dressing gown wrapped securely around her. He was unable to contain his grin of delight as he approached her from behind, leaning down to kiss her neck and relishing in the familiar scent of her lavender perfume. Finally, she smiled like his Cora, and turned to lean into his touch. She stood to meet him and wrapped her arms around his neck, whispering in his ear how glad she was that he was home. And then, just as she leaned in to kiss him, a mischievous sparkle in her eye, a sharp knock at the door interrupted them.

"Mama. Mamaaaa?" Edith's little voice pierced right through the door and he felt Cora slink out of his grasp seconds later, trudging over to the door and opening it to reveal their second daughter standing in her nightdress with a most inconvenient frown on her face.

"Mama, I cannot get to sleep. Will you read to me?" Edith looked pitifully at her mother before looking beyond her and noticing his presence. She eyed her papa suspiciously before looking back to Cora once more. "Perhaps I can stay in here tonight?" She entreated.

Robert quickly took hold of the situation, not wanting anything to get in the way of his and Cora's reunion. "I will read to Edith," he offered, shuffling out of the room and murmuring for Cora to wait for him as he led Edith out of the doorway and back down the hall.

When he returned an hour later, he expected Cora to be sitting up in the pale blue and cream-colored lace confection he had purchased her from Paris right before he left for the war. In one of her letters she had promised to wear it for him upon his return. He nearly blushed, thinking of the other thing she had promised. Opening the door with tingling anticipation, he had to stop himself from groaning with disappointment when he was met with a dimly lit room; Cora was already fast asleep and bundled up in some God awful tartan dressing gown, sleeping at the very edge of the bed. He supposed it would be no good to wake her—though he desperately wanted to—and so instead he settled into bed and tried to wrap his arms around her.

Even in her sleep, she wanted no part of his advances. She swatted him away before rolling over once more and muttering something about needing some damn peace and quiet.

And this odd new life continued on as Robert adjusted to being back at Downton.

The girls were full of boundless energy, constantly bouncing around the house and squabbling at every turn. Mary was often found in the sitting room with Edith, explaining to her sister the qualities of a proper lady and yelling them at her to make sure Edith was fully grasping the lessons. Their shouts would only intensify when Cora intervened, and would usually end with both of them being sent off to the nursery—Cora red-faced and throwing her hands up in exasperation.

Sybil, on the other hand, seemed attached to Cora's hip. She followed her mother around for hours on end, asking countless questions about the most bizarre and outlandish things. She would hang on Cora's skirts and tug on them until she received some sort of answer. Then she would come up with another ridiculous question and start the whole process over again.

Cora looked to be grinding her teeth most times, or staring out the window daydreaming about something else entirely. And on the rare occasions that the girls were not present, she looked to be absorbed in paperwork from housekeeper or sorting through piles of correspondences on her desk.

They had finally had their proper reunion two nights after his return home.

Cora had been awake and in bed reading when he approached tentatively, kissing her lips and touching her body as if silently asking for permission. She said nothing but rolled over, leaned back, and wrapped her legs around his body, closing her eyes and grasping at her pillow as he pushed into her.

He hovered only slightly above her, wanting to feel her soft skin against his own and remember how wonderful it felt when she pushed up against him, enjoying their intimacies as much as he did. He thrust into her slowly, not wanting it to end, and waited for her to wrap her arms around him or groan his name with a heavy, pleasure coated voice as she always did.

She was nearly silent, though, until the very end, only murmuring his name once and kissing his cheek before mimicking her routine of the nights before wrapping her awful dressing gown back on and rolling over to the edge of the bed.

Bewildered, Robert pulled his nightclothes back on and rolled to the opposite side of the bed, clutching his pillow and wondering what on earth had happened to his wife.

They repeated this distant lovemaking several times over the next few weeks.

Robert began to hate the tartan dressing gown and even had a fairly violent dream about setting fire to it. But before he could act out his imaginings it was time to pack up and head down to London for the season.

A/N: Fear not, we have just begun!