White Ash
A/N: I am livid that we got no Bransons at Christmas, AND that we missed their wedding. But since they aren't the main couple I guess I'll just take what I can get and fill in the rest myself. THIS is my personal head-canon for Christmas in Dublin. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I'll own Allen Leech one day... one day...
It's snowing by Christmas Eve. A white blanket that finally covers the ash of industry and staunches the chaos the streets have been rife with... for a time at least.
It's all she can comfort herself with.
She sets the candle beside the window and watches as it flickers happily through the glass. Her lambent reflection washes itself in orange light, betrays the unsettling of her soul. She hears the slow steps of her husband behind her and cups her hand around the flame.
'I do admire it, you know. The way your mother keeps such strong faith when it seems there is no hope to be had.'
Her husband turns the figures of Mary and Joseph round to face the snow outside. They too are granted the same irony of watching the frost and being bathed in the luminous yellow of the candlelight.
'It's a tradition,' he says, 'even if my mam weren't the fundamentalist she is, I suppose it'd still be expected in some way.' He pronounces the word fundamentalist with such force that Sybil lifts her head to fix him with a glare.
'Don't let mama and papa know you're an atheist as well, for all our sakes! I don't believe they could handle the idea on top of everything else.' She slides her arms around his waist and he detects enough mockery in her tone to chuckle into her brow.
The mood is so still and silent. The room is void of all but the two lovers and the slow burn of the flame. She doesn't believe she's ever felt so happy, so safe, so loved and so worried all in one moment.
'I'm not exactly what an Earl dreams of for a son in law...' he says, after a moment, and she can feel the press of his smile against her skin.
'Well, bully him,' she replies in the same soft tone. 'It isn't up to the Earl. It's up to me.'
He tilts his head to kiss her and they are brought together in the same bliss that empowered them the first time.
'I don't care if he approves or not,' she whispers when they part. 'I chose you.'
He smiles again and Sybil gets the distinct impression that he is teasing her. He is forever prompting her to lay her feelings bare for his own satisfaction. It's payback, he says, for what he calls three years of torture; and he enjoys it far too much.
'I married a mastermind,' he teases with a grin. 'What better way to rebel against the ruling class than to marry your fathers chauffeur? My perfect little socialist.'
'Oh, Tom, be quiet! You know that isn't why.' She bats his stomach in protest but the grin is too wide on her face to reprimand him properly.
'Alright, alright! I'll be sensible,' he insists through his laughter. 'I'll tell you all about my mams holiday tradition shall I?' She smiles at him.
'No, not yet.'
She takes his hands and pulls him across the room. Their Christmas tree is modest so Sybil doesn't have to be too careful as she drops to the ground and crawls underneath.
'Love, what are you-'
'Just join me!' She insists. Her face is completely hidden to him so he has to assume the smile she is inevitably wearing. With a sigh he follows her and lays his cheek against the ground in imitation. There are pine needles knotted throughout her hair.
'What now, love?' He says cheekily and they both burst into laughter at the same time. With a sigh she shuffles forward until their noses are touching. The branches scratch gently at her cheeks as a breeze hovers in the room.
A door slams shut.
'Your mother's gone out.' She says quite simply.
'Looks like she has.' He leans forward to kiss her and she responds willingly. She turns suddenly away from him and lies on her back. She squints at the angel topping the tree, blocked by a dark forest.
'You know... the tree we had at Downton was so large I could walk right underneath it when I was a child.' Her eyes have taken on that glassy look they always get when she talks about her family. 'Edith, Mary and I used to hide beneath it and scare the servants when they decorated it. I remember Mary took special delight in covering Carson from head to toe in golden tinsel, and Edith was always trailing after Patrick.'
'Where were you?' Her husband whispers.
She pauses for a minute, and contracts her eyebrows as if she is walking through a memory.
'I don't know,' she says finally. 'I can't remember specifically. Even then it seems as if I never really belonged.'
He captures her hand and kisses it before holding it against her stomach.
'You belong with me,' he says intensely, his eyes burning into hers, 'even more so now.'
She looks surprised for a moment but then they lock onto the same thought. 'How did you know?' she asks with a smile, looking down at their clasped hands. 'Even I'm not completely sure yet.'
'I gave you a promise didn't I? That I would devote every waking minute to you.' He makes sure she is looking at him before he continues. 'I meant what I said, love. I'll always mean it. For both you and our baby.'
She beams and moves close enough that he can wrap his arms around her. Their legs tangle together and the limited space causes a shower of pine needles to rain down upon them. She gasps and tries to sit up suddenly but he is pulling her down with a delighted sort of laughter. 'No, no, don't move, you'll make it worse!'
She slides down beside him again and presses her lips just above his. He hungers for more but she just holds his face and speaks in a low whisper...
'This is quite honestly the best Christmas I've ever had.'
A/N: I probably could have spent a lot more time on this but since I have exams next week I had to rush it ;_; Hope you liked!