A/N: This is the first part of the prologue that will compose a much longer story, which will look at Downton Abbey from Bertie Pelham's POV and will hopefully flesh out his character in such a way as to make him consistent with the show, but giving him an added spice (rather than him being just Edith's way to happiness). The whole idea of writing this came to me with the lack of Bertie/Edith works (for despite Edith's absence in this prologue, that is where we're headed) that exist out there and my frustration of not finding what I wanted when I looked. That is not to say that my own work satisfied that gap, but it did help me feel like I was doing something at least.

I started this work eons ago and it's been finished for ages (betaed and all by the splendid BoxyP, who accepted to go through this even though she hadn't even seen Season 6 of Downton Abbey). It was certainly finished long before the film came out and it does in no way draw upon it (and if ever I should feel inspired to write a sequel it'd probably have to be non-canonical with the film).

The prologue will be divided in 3 parts and so will each subsequent part of the story (eight after the prologue). Updates should come once a week (over the weekend) if I can manage it (my work-life balance is atrocious, but this should give me an excuse to actually think about my life and something that is not work).

I've done a bit of research (for my own pleasure more than anything else), so even though I do not claim perfect historical accuracy, this should make the history buffs (I'm one of you) out there happy (hopefully). In as much as it pertains any other mistakes, they should all be attributed to myself and to the fact that I lost the masterfile where all the relevant changes had been made, along with my most precious pen drive (one of the reasons why I've delayed publication was because I hoped to find my pen drive again, but alas it hasn't come to be). Everything that is not a mistake is probably thanks to my aforementioned beta, BoxyP, whose work on this has been truly thorough. Thanks ;)

The first time Bertie went to Brancaster, he was little more than a babe. His mother having been taken ill, his father had taken Bertie with him to the castle, spurred on by Lord Hexham, who had reassured his father that Bertie could stay in the nursery with Peter while they discussed whatever it was that adults discussed when children were away. Bertie remembered quite well the admonishments given to him by his father to behave properly and to refer to Peter as Master Peter rather than Cousin Peter. A fourth degree of relation and a first meeting required as much, according to Mr Pelham. Bertie had been schooled since a very young age on the ways in which he and his father were related to the current and future Marquess of Hexham, and upon entering Brancaster castle for the first time, he had enough composure to understand that he was not to stare and not to embarrass his father, who was a close friend of the Marquess. At three years of age, that had not been an easy task to accomplish, but nevertheless his mother had taught him well enough to help him succeed for as long as he was walking towards the nursery, where his cousin Peter, one year his senior on the cards, but already five years of age, was being entertained by the nanny.

Bertie had never thought of his family as unfortunate, and even though nobility had mostly washed away from their shoulders, with his father's job and his mother's character, he knew he was a fortunate child. Peter, however, had appeared to him much like a king, ensconced in a big room, surrounded by wooden toys and a fretting nanny at his beck and call, eager to fulfil his every wish. Nevertheless, Peter had been kind to him, a virtual stranger, and in the broken vocabulary of two young children, they had communicated for the first time with kind words and begun to form a rapport that Bertie would cherish for the rest of his life.

Bertie's father, Charles Pelham, had not been a clerk by trade, but rather had become one after having sustained an injury during the Sikkim expedition, when Bertie had been only a few months old, forcing Mr Pelham to renounce his military career and return home with an injury that left him in poor health throughout his remaining life. The 5th Marquess of Hexham, William Henry Peter Pelham, had taken his second cousin's situation to heart and had decided to recommend him for an administrative job at the Brandy Bank in West Woodburn, which ensured that Bertie's family was well looked after, and incidentally gained Charles important expertise on finance that could be used to serve Lord Hexham. After all, until the birth of Peter, Charles had been the heir of the title and fortune of the Marquess, and had been treated as such, so it had stood to reason that Charles should have done his bit. The Pelhams had lacked a strong male line after the birth of the 4th Marquess and his brother, Bertie's great grandfather, leaving the title frustratingly connected to a single, direct male heir ever since. Strong health had ensured that none of them had perished before their time, however, and thus had rendered Bertie's own family line quite redundant as safeguard for the title. In spite of Peter's birth, however, Mr Pelham had shown himself to be a capable administrator, and had slowly but surely overtaken the role as closest advisor to the Marquess, which had belonged to the estate agent, Mr Stokes.

Despite the close connection between the two families, however, Bertie himself had not been to the house prior to that visit. The situation might have been different had he been a girl or even had he had a sister, who could have been proposed as a prospective wife for Peter. Instead, the Marquess' sister would provide that particular service to her brother by producing only two daughters, the oldest of which, Adele, was soon selected to be Peter's betrothed since the cradle, when Peter himself was only eight years of age.

Nevertheless, after his first successful visit, Bertie was called to Brancaster again, and not because of particular necessities presented by his parents, but rather because Cousin Peter had requested his presence. The visits, quite sparse in the very beginning of their childhood, became more frequent as time went by. Peter quickly became a friend to Bertie, even though the time they spent together was not nearly as much as that which Bertie spent with other children. Both of them had unusual characters that often set them aside from their peers, but were ultimately the reason that drove them together. Bertie had always held a deep fascination with anything related to warfare and the discipline instilled in the Army – stories from his father and his mother's unrelenting education had ensured his predilection for the military. Peter, on the other hand, was very much more interested in reading and anything that related to art in any way, the lack of a mother to raise him during his adolescence years not translating into his growing without maternal affection. Indeed, the fact that his mother had died of tuberculosis had only meant that his father had had less time to spend with Peter, having to ensure that his social appearances covered the ones his deceased wife would have taken upon herself had she been alive, as well as those that were purely his own to sustain. No matter how different their personalities appeared to be, Bertie's sensible soul and Peter's generosity met half-way and were able to bring the two together.

Bertie's mother often insisted that Bertie cultivate his relationship with Peter in an effort to bring the family back into the ranks of nobility she believed her son to be deserving of. However, Bertie had soon grown to like Peter for who his cousin was rather than the social opportunities he could give to Bertie. Association with aristocrats and their children had not painted too positive a picture of what being a peer meant; starting with Adele Graham, whom Bertie had ample opportunity to spend time with, and the role she and Peter had been cast into since her birth, Bertie had immediately remarked that holding a role in society would come at the expenses of one's own desires and ambitions – he could never be forced into marrying someone simply to appease his family. The ghastly prospects presented by Peter's role as future Marquess of Hexham became even more starkly obvious to Bertie when the two boys approached adulthood. By the age of fifteen, it was undeniable that Peter was not like other boys, and for Bertie, who frequented him every so often, but was his cousin's faithful correspondent, it became obvious that his artistic and literary inclinations had flourished into something more, something tremendously dangerous for the Marquess of Hexham to contend with.

Nevertheless, as soon as he was allowed, Bertie left Northumberland and all its problematics behind to head to the Royal Military College, Sandhurst. His mother, though not entirely surprised by Bertie's decision, had still looked at him with eyes filled with fear. Bertie had known that fear would be the all-pervading sentiment in his mother long before he had officially announced his decision to his parents, but all the years he had lived had contributed to convincing him that he had no other clear interest beyond warfare. A part of him he struggled to bury was disgusted by the concept of fighting, of taking people's lives, erasing their future with a piece of led, but the biggest part of his soul had grown believing in the cause of protecting those whom he loved.

The College would be very expensive, and so were the following years, where Bertie struggled constantly with the notion of having to pay all of his income and some of his father's to be able to even maintain his status, let alone advance in rank. His first assignment was with the 3rd Battalion of the Northumberland Fusiliers, with whom he went to Antigua to guard the Boer prisoners, but the battalion was soon brought back on Home soil and shortly thereafter decommissioned early on in Bertie's career, following the Northumberland Fusiliers' reorganization, and he joined the 1st Battalion as a Second lieutenant in April of 1907.

Bertie had been keeping a heavy correspondence with his cousin, and had thus learnt of Peter's clear reluctance to marry. Peter showered Bertie with questions about the places he was in, and the people he met, but resolutely refused to allow any talk of his marriage prospects with Adele to become in any way serious. There was, beneath all the elaborated excuses and recounts of rebellious acts, a streak of resignation to Peter's words, that Bertie could never forget as crystalized in a letter he received soon before he was to leave for Peshawar, in 1908: I will do it when it will become necessary; I will not disappoint Father so, but I shall also endeavour to remain as free and true to myself as I can for as long as I can. Adele is young still, she will wait more than a decade still.

A part of Bertie had wanted to reproach Peter for his treatment of Adele, even though he knew her to not be particularly pleasant, but the truth was that Adele would be waiting for Peter for as long as his cousin would require, because Peter was the future Marquess, and Adele – as much as her parents – wished to become the future Marchioness. Bertie could not be happier than he was at that moment for the freedom he found in the Army, and his lower station, but soon he realised that even he was becoming entrenched in the family dynamics – much more than he had ever anticipated when he had asked to share a toy with a five years old Peter in the boy's nursery. The open though cryptic nature of his cousin's letters was increasingly striking Bertie as the words he had imagined he would exchange with his brother, had he ever had one.

When, in 1913, Bertie properly set foot on Homeland soil again, with his Battalion's station in Portsmouth, the few words exchanged between himself and his cousin became more frequent and resulted in a meeting between the two, during Bertie's downtime.

Peter arranged for a meeting in a restaurant Bertie could have never afforded on his salary, even though he had recently been promoted to the rank of Captain. Bertie had chosen to dress in his formal uniform for the occasion, knowing it was the best item of clothing he owed in his wardrobe at the moment. Peter, his twenty-seven years not registering fully on his fresh, clean shaven features, had instead dressed in a less conspicuous white tie. Even as he entered the restaurant, however, Bertie had to indisputably remark that Peter would be conspicuous whenever he went. He had been graced with height and the better looks of his mother rather than the average looks of the Pelhams Bertie himself bore so clearly. His cousin's black hair was fashionable and spotless, framing his face in such a way that its roundness was elongated enough that it looked quite like a perfect oval rather than the face of a chubby man. Peter's best feature, his green eyes, were as distinctive as Bertie remembered them, but didn't capture Bertie's attention nearly as much as his cousin's wide smile when their eyes met for the first time that evening.

In spite of the presence of other patrons, Peter stood to embrace his cousin tightly, greeting him with as much affection as Bertie's own mother had done when last Bertie had seen her. Mirada Pelham had never been excessively open with her displays of affection, but the long periods spent apart since Bertie's first commission had further strengthened the bond that had always been there between the two.

"You look dashing, Bertie," were Peter's first words once they separated.

"Hardly," Bertie deflected the compliment as they sat at the table. "You better fit your own compliment after a long trip across the grounds than I ever will."

The conversation was mostly inconsequential in nature throughout the dinner, both men knowing that they could not trust the privacy of the establishment, but once they moved outside of the restaurant and took a walk around the city's streets, words were exchanged less shallowly.

"Papa is becoming less and less magnanimous with the freedoms I take," Peter commented as they stood still, facing the sea in front of them. "He is starting to push for the marriage – Adele has apparently asked for the engagement to be made official at the very least."

Bertie didn't need to ask why Peter wasn't giving in to the inevitable situation, the reason was clear enough as it was, without anyone needing to become too specific. "You always knew you couldn't put it off forever." It didn't bear saying that now that Adele was seventeen, the marriage could truly become a concrete prospect rather than just the work of fantasy of Peter's relations.

Even with the encroaching darkness, Bertie could clearly make out the grim smile on Peter's face. "Yes, but there's more to it than that, I'm afraid. He won't say, but I think… I think he is not quite well."

"Your father is ill?" Bertie inquired with no small amount of apprehension.

"I believe as much, yes. And we all know what that means, don't we, Bertie?"

"Are you quite certain? Have you tried to speak to my father about the situation as well? I have no qualms about sending him a letter to enquire after Cousin William, I hope you know as much. After all, he is family as well, and I should hate for anything to happen to him regardless of what that means for you." Bertie was sincere in his words, he knew as much, and sought no reward for their utterance, but still he was rewarded with a gentle squeeze of his forearm as a sign of gratefulness.

"Your father would not speak even if he knew with certainty. And as things stand now, I do not believe Cousin Charles would even be aware of the matter, my father would not want him to be."

Bertie observed the stillness of the expanse of sea in front of him, contemplating the darkness to find within it the light that ruled life. He found no answer there, only questions, but he could relish in the quiet contemplation of life, even if he was no wiser afterwards. "What are your plans?" He asked eventually.

"What they have always been. I know what my father wants of me, and I will give into his request. But I am not quite ready yet. I travelled a lot these past few years, and found a place. Do you remember, Bertie?" Bertie nodded in assent; he did remember. The mythical search for a place, the place. Neither one of them had ever felt quite at ease in their own places of origin, always restless and uneasy, cast in roles that never did quite suit them, but where Bertie had never admitted aloud to such restlessness, Peter had striven to find his own home since the beginning, a place where his soul would feel free to express itself at its fullest, without fear of judgement or consequences. Bertie had thought the search itself a goal to achieve in his life, though he had never expressed it aloud; he was glad for his cousin, but also immensely envious of his success – more than he had ever been envious in his life. "I was in Tangiers not two months ago, and I could not sleep very well. So I took up a little before dawn and decided to have a walk on the beach. There, I found it. Young fishermen were casting their nets, and as the sun broke over the horizon, their bodies became alive, like a flame stoked from burning ashes."

"It sounds marvellous," Bertie commented, mesmerised by the sentiment behind his cousin's words.

Peter smiled, and it reached far beyond his eyes. His face was illuminated by life as Bertie wasn't sure it had ever been. "I will return there," Peter declared. "And when I feel like I will have left enough of me in Tangiers, like I will have lived enough, I will succumb to the inevitability of marrying Cousin Adele and producing an heir to the Hexham title, possibly one who shall not find such difficulty in completing the same task," he added with a self-critical retort. Cousin Peter had always been good at making fun of himself. He was a lost soul and knew himself to be as much, but at the same time, where others strove to fit in, he had decided to be the individual he truly was, regardless of what other people might say. It did not matter that he was to live a life not meant for him; for as long as he could, he would escape the confines of his obligations and allow his spirit to be freed of any mundane concern.

They separated soon thereafter, though Bertie would take that conversation with him for a long while. Having overcome the first bout of jealousy, Bertie had to admit that he was happy for Peter, happy because despite the unavoidable unhappiness that awaited him, Peter had found joy in life, something Bertie could still not claim for himself. He had thought the Army would suit him, and indeed it did, but it was no cure for the ailment of his heart; a palliative maybe, but no more than that. The sense of loneliness made him seem like an anchorless boat, floating about while trying to find a shelter from an encroaching storm.

A/N: I'm crossposting this to AO3 and actually started on Tuesday there, so today you get a double chapter.