Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: I needed some dirty Edith/Anthony (Andith) and decided to bring the Sentinel/Guide trope in with me. In this story, the idea is that a Sir Anthony is a Sentinel: (person with enhanced senses) And Edith is his Guide: (a person that helps a Sentinel control their gifts and keep them from 'zoning' or hyper-focusing on one sense and thus vulnerable.) The connection or bond between a Sentinel and Guide is a soul deep and almost spiritual thing that is generally considered pre-destined. Much like the soul-bond/one-love trope. *In this version Sentinels don't come online until they meet their Guide, the person best suited to help them balance these abilities – essentially the other half of their soul. Neither Sentinel nor Guide can come online until they are at least twenty years of age. So, essentially, when Sir Anthony visits Downton in 1x5, this is the first time an encounter would have resulted in them being matched as Edith is at least twenty years old in 1912.

Warnings: *Contains: porn with some actual plot – but not much, dub-con due to trope, period appropriate behavior/language/thoughts/actions/etc, use of restraints, animal traits/behaviors, sexual content, oral sex, nudity.

Preconceptions (preconceived, prejudice or just plain puzzled)

Chapter One

The papers by week's end would read cheery and boastful of the happy announcement. That Sir Anthony Strallan had found his Guide in one Lady Edith of Downton Abbey. The first Sentinel and Guide pair in the county for over five generations. Detailing how they'd been bonded and happily married in a quiet, tasteful arrangement after meeting unexpectedly during a dinner party hosted by her father and mother, Lord and Lady Grantham.

However, like with most matters of truth and fiction, it was the former that was far more interesting. Teasing like the tendrils of newborn green in one's rose garden. Shuddering for a steady, experienced hand to help them bloom to their fullest potential.

For in truth, they never made it to dinner.

She heard him before she saw him. Nattering animatedly to papa about some farming term she was unfamiliar with. But with an enthusiasm that made her smile small. Thinking it refreshingly honest after days of squabbling with Mary and braving the dreary appointments expected of her as the daughter of a Lord.

The conversation paused when they entered the room. Keeping her usual place between her sisters as papa, Cousin Matthew and their other guests came to greet mother. Enveloping her smoothly in their conversation as they interspersed their gratitude for their invitation to dine. It was the usual ceremony of masculine peacocking. Doggedly keeping with the old traditions as Grandmother swept in from the wings. Settling into a chair in the center of things with her usual flare. Demanding everyone's attention as she began discussing something she'd read in the papers that morning.

All but one man's, at least.

Because Sir Anthony had stopped dead the moment she'd stepped through the threshold. Blue eyes flaring frightfully dark, almost piercing as they fixed on her. She startled, white gloves ghosting down the sides of her pale rose dress, fighting the girlish urge to hide behind them. Feeling a queer trembling in her limbs as he inhaled audibly, sharp like the precursor to a growl as his glass of brandy slipped from his fingers. Flooding across the carpet in a wave of sluggish, burnt-amber.

"Sir Anthony? Are you quite alright man?!"

She cocked her head, unconsciously taking his measure as the distant ringing of her father's voice echoed dully. Unimportant. The man was handsome, to be sure. But in a mature and wan sort of way she was uncertain she found pleasing until that very moment. Only pulling herself out of the observation when Thomas blurred past. Daubing distractedly at the carpet as he looked between them curiously. Making her realize that somewhere along the line she must have stepped forward. Answering the sudden need to be closer as Sir Anthony tugged at his collar. Beads of sweat hushing down from his temples as Cousin Matthew gripped him by the shoulder, passing a hand in front of his face as if he could somehow rouse him.

"Edith?"

Her tongue peeked out on its own accord, tracing the seam of her lower lip like a silent challenge. Feeling her lips pull back – a smile, or maybe a snarl – when he hissed at her. Shocking the room like a blow as he shrugged off Matthew's arm and wrenched himself forward. Calling to her without words as a rush of heat flooded through her – sending her reeling – skin prickling. No, burning! Like a banked fire being brought back to life just underneath her skin.

"Edith, darling, are you alright?"

He took a step forward.

Then another.

Her hand flailed out, curling fast around one of the footman's steady arms. Gripping him madly, like he was only thing keeping her grounded as papa and Matthew got in front of Sir Anthony before she could go to him. Blocking him from view as a whimper rose up in her throat.

"William! Hold her!"

She went rigid when she realized she could no longer see him. Feeling the wrongness of it immediately. Making to pull away only to realize William was holding her now as well, hemmed in by mama and Cousin Isobel as Mary let go of a wordless sound beside them. Looking from her then back to Sir Anthony with an expression she didn't quite recognize.

In fact, she didn't care.

He needed her.

She knew that.

Felt it.

She had to go to him!

She had to make them understand!

"Carson, fetch Doctor Clarkson! Don't-"

A cold burst of air felt like heaven against her burning skin as Cousin Isobel fanned her frantically. Only backing away when William lifted her bodily, trying to lay her down on the chaise as she struggled fiercely. Managing to get back to her feet and free of them as her hands curled into fists, quite overcome. Seeming to mirror him as Sir Anthony cursed. Hair mussed and tumbling free of its neat part as they found each other again through the fray. Extending a desperate hand towards her that she returned as papa and Matthew tried to wrestle him back. Reaching for him instinctively despite the yards that still existed between them.

It was almost too much. This sudden connection. Belonging. Need. She felt well used - useful. She had purpose now – blinding and intense as it was. Suddenly part of something just as he was. Something predestined and clean. Righteous.

She opened her mouth to say as much, but lost track of the words. Ignoring the others concerned chirps as she tried to push past them. Yearning to escape the barrier of flesh as Mary and Sybil joined in, keeping her well back as Carson and Thomas managed to seize Sir Anthony by the arms. Finding a preening sort of thrill when she realized it was taking all four of them to keep him from her.

My Sentinel. Part of her purred. Knowing it instinctively. The realization satisfying on a primal level she wasn't sure she rightly understood as the man growled and thrashed. Hearing her harsh, breathy pants echo strangely – overloud as the room swayed alarmingly.

The last thing she was aware of was a particular roaring in her ears and the singular sight of Sir Anthony trying to reach her before she fell. Snarling and almost animal as he struggled with the other men as the world faded into nothing and William scooped her up before she hit the ground.

"This is all very irregular," Mama remarked, worried, muslin rustling as she adjusted her dress compulsively. "Quite scandalous even."

"But manageable," Grandmother pointed out, cane thumping firmly. "If anything, it can be worked with. That is a blessing, my dear. Treat it as such. After all, it could be worse. Sir Anthony is from good stock and clear noble blood. This is a boon, perhaps from heaven itself. Let us not squander it. I am sure Edith will not."

She winced, regaining herself in pieces as the familiar sounds of the two woman bickering washed over her. Choosing not to open her eyes, if only for a moment, as she took stock. Struggling to remember what had happened before the memories returned in a rush and suddenly she was sitting up, head pounding – half-blinded by the well-lit electric.

"Where is he?" she asked immediately, brought up short by how fractured her voice sounded as mama gripped her shoulders and tried to make her lay down again. Realizing she'd must have been carried up to her rooms, as the familiar sight of her bedroom – now crowded with family - greeted her.

"Edith! Darling! Don't strain yourself! Anna, send for Doctor Clarkson at once, he should be down with Sir Anthony and Cousin Matthew, hurry!" Grandmother ordered, not a hair out of place as she patted her arm consolingly. Only catching a flash of uniformed-blonde as Anna slipped quickly from the room.

She accepted the glass of water Cousin Isobel thrust on her. Counting her pulse and testing the heat of her forehead before wiping a cool cloth across her brow.

"Is he alright?"

"He's alright, my dear," Mama answered, "he is with Mathew and your father – Carson, Thomas and Mr. Bates are with them. This has been quite the shock, for both of you, please take it slowly my dear, you've been unconscious for almost two hours."

But she shook her head, feeling his need and hers flare bright in her chest. Clutching harshly at the coverlet as a mournful, desperate sound echoed through the wing. Making her want to thrash and scream. Feeling the burn in every inch of her as she looked around wildly.

"I want to see him. Mama, I must!"

They were cut off before she could answer by a knock on the door, with Doctor Clarkson, Anna and papa wading in. Making her feel marginally claustrophobic as she tried to stand, annoyed when Mary and Sybil refused the action.

"There now Lady Edith, your color is certainly better. How are you feeling?" Doctor Clarkson asked with a smile, looking quite animated despite the late hour as he unbuckled his kit and listened to her heart. Adding another layer of frustration to the moment as papa paced back and forth by the window.

"Fine, thank you," she replied, dutiful, mindful of who was watching as the Doctor handed her a colorful mixture, clearing his throat pointedly until she tossed it back without even so much as asking what it was. Not keen on being denied answers. "Sir Anthony- is he- I must see him."

"He is fine, my lady, I assure you," Doctor Clarkson remarked, slightly guarded as he watched her process through an almost visceral frisson of relief. "Though I am afraid he had to be restrained. It's lucky I had an appropriate Sentinel harness in stock, otherwise-"

"Restrained!" she exclaimed, muting a gasp as she tried to imagine it. Oh the poor man!

"He gave us little choice," Papa explained hesitantly, looking very much like he'd rather not share what he knew at all as she stared at him wide-eyed and pleading. "He gave Cousin Matthew a solid black eye trying to get to you and nearly got me as well before Mr. Bates and Thomas got him pinned against the wall."

"Hit his head something awful against the frame, but as it turned out we were lucky it managed to stun him long enough for the other's to carry him off. He went into a proper rage when you fainted, I can tell you that. Didn't know the ol' boy had it in him. Absolutely nothing like him. But my dear, are you sure you're alright? We were all terribly worried."

She nodded, shaken. Unable to stomach even the thought of food as Anna set a tray of broth in front of her. "I want to see him," she said again, smaller this time but no less as firm. Looking from the Doctor to papa, aching for them to see reason. Barely believing it with both nodded.

"Of course you may see him," Doctor Clarkson soothed, eying her closely now. "I know you need to, I am sure every fiber of your being is concentrated just down the hall at this very moment. But do you understand, Lady Edith? Do you know what this is?"

"Yes," she breathed quickly, barely hesitating despite the clear intimacy behind the words. "His is mine-my Sentinel."

"And you are his Guide," Cousin Isobel remarked, cutting cleanly through the ripples of shock. Bold as brass and twice as shined in that way she'd often admired. Leaning forward in the chair beside mama and Grandmother until she looked like she was about to slip clear off as she unfolded her napkin, nudging at the spoon and indicating she try to fortify herself. "I am sure this must be all very frightening, but you know what you must do, do you not?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She was calmer now. Or at least a bit less mad. Centered with the knowledge of what was happening and what she wanted also meshed up with what was expected of her. She sipped at the beef broth without interest. Tempted to leap up and join papa in his pacing until Doctor Clarkson snared her attention again.

"You must steel yourself Lady Edith, for what we must discuss might be something of a shock. This is a time when both Sentinel and Guide are at their most vulnerable. In a sense you are lucky it happened here, amongst family and like-minded people than a chance meeting elsewhere," the man started, taking out a small booklet from his kit and setting it down on the tray beside her.

"In better circumstances, you would have time to read this and prepare yourself. Much of it is instinctual, but it is always better to come into these situations informed. Sentinels and Guides are so rare after all. Unfortunately, time is the only thing we do not have in abundance, I am afraid," the doctor explained, tapping at the manual dubiously labeled: The Behaviors and Treatments of the British Sentinel and Guide Pair. 1860 edition.

"We are dealing with a number of sensitive factors that demand precedence here. His abilities have been latent all his life. For them to rise now and so shockingly has put him in a bad way. His state is...ungentlemanly, to put it mildly. He is not in his right mind but that will only get worse if you do not go to him. I must stress, he is not in any danger, not yet. But he will be and soon. Even in the best circumstances the strain of keeping a freshly discovered pair apart is considered extremely unwise. On both sides," he finished, directing the last bit to the room at large as mama and papa shared a look over the other's heads.

"I want to-" she blurted. Hands fitful in her lap and she struggled with it. "I feel-"

"It's alright dear, tell us," Mama urged, eyes kind and watering with a mixture of uncertainty and happy pride. Like she was seeing her truly for the first time and was overwhelmed by it. "This is not the time to be silent, no matter how uncomfortable discussing it might be."

"I feel him- here," she admitted, despising how shuddery her voice sounded as her hand settled on the shelf of her breast. As if to cover the cavernous hole only she could feel. "He needs me. And I quite think I-I might need him too."

"Is there really no time to send for a minister?" Grandmother broke in, cane thumping against the carpets like it had an issue of its own. "I understand we are being forced into modernity at an alarming rate, but surely some things must still be sacred?"

"No. Unfortunately not," Doctor Clarkson replied, earning him a stiff nod of solidarity from Cousin Isobel. "However, the realm of Sentinel and Guide bonding is clear. The solidification of a true bond - as they have both displayed - is beyond judgement or reproach. The only case where marriage under the eyes of God comes secondary and allowances for- well, allowances are made."

"If anything your reputation will be stronger for it," Cousin Isobel cut in. "The county hasn't seen a Sentinel and Guide pairing for almost five generations. I believe the last one was between a kitchen maid and fletcher, if I'm not mistaken."

"When has that ever stopped anything?" Grandmother bugled, lips pursed. "Think of the gossip! You'll be expected to prove all this later, you understand Edith? If only to stop the little people from blabbering. Perhaps Sir Anthony could save the day and predict a house collapse or lift a boulder with one arm. Such are the feats of Sentinel legend, or so I am told. Perhaps we should set up a committee to separate facts from fiction. Hmm?"

Cousin Isobel looked like she was about to comment before Doctor Clarkson slid neatly through the fractured pause. Ignoring the both of them politely, but with the ease of long practice.

"Holding off the bond will only cause problems. As you all know, Sentinels undergo a number of physical changes when they find their Guide – heightened senses, strength and agility. All which will develop more in the coming weeks. But I am concerned about the strain Sir Anthony is under. I have never seen a bond mature this late in life and to be quite frank, I believe he is going through enough at the moment. We simply cannot delay."

"I understand, Doctor Clarkson," she replied firmly, quite determined as she finished the rest of her broth and set the tray aside. Sending papa a nod and a tremulous smile before turning back the Doctor and straightening against the pillows. "I'm ready."

"Yes, I believe you are," he returned, mustache twitching. Tapping at the cover of the booklet like he was thinking over what came next carefully. "Now, this is what you must do."

A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – There will be three more chapters, stay tuned!