Don't own Downton Abbey or any of its characters.
We Three
Edith knew she would never be considered as beautiful or regal as Mary.
She also knew she would never possess the sweet innocence of Sybil.
Being the eldest-and her father's favourite-Mary had always been given more opportunities and attention, and Edith had resented her for it at times.
Being the youngest-and, Edith suspected, her mother's favourite-Sybil had always been given a little more leeway than her elder sisters, her kindness and compassion setting her apart from her stoic, ladylike sisters, and she always used the fact that she was the baby of the family to her advantage.
Except now Edith was the youngest, and it hurt more than she could bear.
She had always longed for something to distinguish herself with, and now she had it; she was one of the two remaining Crawley sisters.
But that was wrong, so wrong she wanted to cry and rage at thin air, the universe, even God himself.
Two was too balanced, splitting them right down the middle.
Three…three had always been just the right number, allowing shifts between them, with one sister siding with another whilst the other looked on enviously, until eventually one of them decided they didn't like the sister they had allied with and switched easily, a constant flow of sisterly love and sibling rivalry, until one of the sisters was hurt, and then the other two would protect her, shield her with their combined love and concern.
But now they were one sister down, and no amount of love could bring back their baby sister.
Edith rarely liked Mary, sometimes even believed she truly hated her, but now, standing in the room for the last time as the three Crawley sisters, Edith found herself clinging to Mary as she hadn't since childhood, their hands tightly intertwined as they bid their final farewell to their baby sister.
And this bond, this connection that had existed her entire life, had never been so pronounced, so tangible as it was as they walked away for the last time from their baby sister.
And Edith knew that even when they began to argue as they inevitable would, any anger would pass almost immediately for they were only two now, and they had to stand together or else split entirely down the middle.
Edith didn't like the number two.
She found she still preferred the number three.