Ok, this one got away from me (obviously) but it's a moment many of you have been waiting for, and I couldn't help it, it just had to go down like this, so I hope you will forgive me for the extra length ;oP

Dedicating this chapter to the wonderful gothamgirl28! Hope you all enjoy the fireworks...

Awaken
January, 1919

It's not Christmas, and it's not outside on the front steps of Downton.

Rather, it's Twelfth Night, and in front of a roaring fire in Lord Grantham's library, when he gets down on his knee and presents her the ring.

It had been a battle to get her in there, as well. It's the annual Servant's Ball, or rather, the first Servant's Ball that Downton has seen since the War. He wanted to propose at Christmas, but there were still officers convalescing at the bloody place, and apparently Sybil and all her nurses insisted on giving them a Christmas party. But now they're all gone (thank God) and the house is back to how it should be…even if he must endure a night where the staff mingle with the family.

Sybil is far too fond of this whole thing. She's danced with practically every servant, from the butler to the hall boys, laughing gaily despite the fact that they are tripping over themselves. But she does have a beautiful smile…perhaps he will be kind and allow her this one indulgence when they are married.

It's Lord Grantham who comes to his rescue, telling Sybil she's needed in the library. He's waiting for her when she arrives, and she gasps upon seeing him, clearly surprised.

"Larry! I…I'm sorry, I thought Papa—"

She's about to leave, but he calls out to her. "Wait! Please…stay for a moment."

She looks hesitant. "Why are you in here by yourself…? And why did Papa—?"

"Sybil," he interrupts and digs his hand into his jacket pocket, the tiny box feeling like a lead weight. "Sybil…" he's practiced this over in his head so many times, and yet suddenly the words are all jumbled together.

"Larry, we should go back—"

"Be my wife!"

She whips her head around and stares at him with wide eyes, clearly shocked by his words. He's rather shocked himself at how they just…tumbled out. But now that he's said them, he can't go back, and so without further thought he falls to his knee and holds the ring out for her to see.

"Be my wife," he repeats, looking up at her imploringly. "Marry me, Sybil; marry me and be the future Lady Merton."

The diamond seems to sparkle in the firelight and cast an alluring glow around the entire room. She's still staring at him, her mouth a perfect O as her eyes flicker back and forth from the ring in his hand to his own face.

She opens her mouth to speak, but words seem to fail her. That was exactly what the jeweler had told him when he purchased the ring; "she'll be at an utter loss!"

But she's not, or she's not for long.

"Are you…" she looks at him, her brow furrowing as she speaks. "Are you in earnest?"

His own brow furrows. "Of course!" he answers quickly. "Of course, I want you to marry me!" He smiles at her, hoping she will see the genuine affection he holds—has been holding—for all this time.

"…But why?"

WHY? Did she truly just ask him that? He's momentarily stunned by the question. Doesn't she know? Isn't she aware about how he feels for her? He hasn't made it a secret with how fond he is; how could she ask him such a thing?

He opens his mouth to respond, but is stopped short.

"When we were children, you never wanted to have anything to do with me! And as I grew older, you…you made me feel ugly and wretched about myself…"

He's shocked by this revelation. How? When did he do this? He can't believe it—

"And have I…have I ever given you…" she's tripping over her words, and her eyes are looking at the ground, her hands, the fireplace, his face—anywhere it seems, but the ring that he's holding. "Oh for heaven's sake, please get up!"

He's confused, but does as she asks. "Sybil, you know I'll make you a good husband—"

"Do I?" she questions, looking at him, her cheeks turning pink, but not the sort of beautiful blush that a girl should wear when she's being proposed to. "You're so certain of that."

What an odd thing to say. "Of course."

A moment of silence passes; she's looking at him, but not in the way he's imagined. She's not weeping happy tears, she's not trembling and shaking and holding her hand out for him to slip the ring on. And she's certainly not gasping "YES!" before falling into his arms and offering her luscious lips for him to taste.

She's frowning. Good Lord, she's positively seething!

"Larry…" she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, though she's already shaking her head before the words are uttered. "I cannot accept."

Now he's the one staring in shock. "Cannot…accept…?" The words are simple and plain, yet they sound so foreign to his ears. "How…how can you say that?"

She sighs. "Larry—"

"But I've already spoken with your father; everything's settled—"

"You've spoken to my father!?" she gasps, looking horrified by this news.

"Of course! I asked him for your hand earlier this summer—"

"You asked my father before asking me!?"

Why is she so angry? This is just how things are done!

"I am my own person, Larry, I can think and speak for myself!"

"Oh come now, Sybil—"

"No! And that still remains my answer!"

"But we're perfect for each other!"

"No we're not!"

God she knows how to cut to the quick, doesn't she? Surely there's a more delicate way to say "no"?

"I am your equal!" he practically roars.

"My equal!?" she gasps, her face going pale for a moment. "Larry Grey…you are the furthest man to being my 'equal'. If we were equals, at the very least we would have some things in common!"

"But we do! Our families have known each other for years, we grew up together!"

"That's not the same! We don't share any of the same interests, you never cared for reading and have always abhorred politics—"

"Politics," he groans. "Good God, Sybil, politics nearly got you killed, or have you forgotten!?"

"You never supported feelings about women getting the vote," she continues. "Nor have you ever supported my work as a nurse!"

"That's not true! I think it's very…noble…that you wanted to get involved—"

"I didn't do it because it was 'noble'; I did it because I wanted to! And I don't want to stop!"

"But the War is over! There's no need—"

"There is always a need, and I don't want to stop!" She's breathing heavily, the passion in her voice so clear, so evident; he feels as if he's shrinking. "I love nursing, I love working! For the first time, Larry, my life has purpose!"

She's smiling at this point, beaming even.

And his heart is plummeting.

"I want so much more from this life than…than…" she doesn't finish her sentence, but he knows the unspoken words that follow. She would rather be working her fingers raw…than living in luxury and comfort as his wife.

Never mind that he would see to her every need, never mind that she would never want for anything, never mind that he could make her the toast of London Society!

No; she'd rather slave away in a sick room than be his wife.

He's never felt so humiliated or insulted. But mainly, he feels disgust, disgust at himself and this bloody ring that he's still holding like a fool.

He is a fool; a fool to give his heart to an ungrateful bitch like her.

Remember the lack of gratitude she showed after everything you did for her when that Turk was here? His throat is burning with bile.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs, though he can't help but wonder if she is.

She's moving to the door, preparing to return and no doubt pretend this never happened, and suddenly he finds himself lashing out.

"Back to your chauffeur?"

She freezes and looks at him, but he knows he's hit a mark, he can see it in her eyes.

"You've danced with every man tonight, except him," he growls. Yes, he has been watching, and he has noticed how the two of them seem to have avoided one another.

"Larry—"

"I could give you EVERYTHING! Anything you want! Anything you wish! But you would rather be with…with…with that bloody paddy—"

"I would rather be with ANYONE right now than with you!" she hisses back, before throwing open the door and leaving the library, escaping before he can grab her and pull her back.

He watches her go, his own chest rising and falling with angry breaths.

She will regret this. She regret leading him on as she has done throughout the years! He looks down at the ring in his hand and without a second thought, hurls it into the fireplace, before stalking out of the library.

He spends the night at the Grantham Arms, leaving no answer for his hosts if they should wonder why he's disappeared.

He vows for a second time in his life to never darken Downton's doors again, and swears on everything that's both holy and unholy that he means it this time.

He has heard it said that the world was in a dream before the War; so was his life before this night. Now it's time to wake up.