A/N: I am thankful to everyone who reviews but please understand that the ideas written about in this fic are mine and I do not appreciate them being shopped to other authors for consideration. This is my headcanon and I'd like it to remain as such. Thank you!

Timeline: 3x01. Morning of Mary's wedding.

Song: Not With Haste - Mumford and Sons

A knock sounded at the door. Sybil sat back on the chair of her vanity, staring at the wood separating her from the outside world. Her and Tom had awoken early to share a breakfast in bed. They discussed the wedding they were about to attend, with Tom relaying to Sybil how her own grandmother had forced him into a morning suit. Sybil could only laugh, kissing his lips as if to tell him a secret she couldn't keep: that she was rather excited to see him so dressed up.

"Yes?" Sybil called out, hoping it was Anna or Edith and not her father or mother. She was wearing undergarments Tom had carefully helped her to get into after they both got out of the shower. Atop such elegant pieces she wore her soft silk robe, draped lazily to reveal her swollen stomach if she sat a certain way.

"Sybil, darling, may I come in?"

Sybil stood up and walked to the door to invite her sister in. She hoped that Tom had heard the exchange from his place shaving in the bathroom. He often walked around their flat in Dublin in nothing but underwear, sometimes in just a towel, and sometimes naked. The latter made Sybil blush, despite being her favorite view of him. There was a comfort between the two of them, no matter how uneven.

"Mary, is everything alright?"

Mary could only smile. "I was up early and I still have an hour before I have to get ready. I brought us some tea. I figured we could chat...if you weren't busy," she added.

Sybil smiled. She opened the door, smiling as she saw Mary with tea and milk. A part of her wanted to laugh, thinking this was quite possibly the first time she had ever seen her sister carrying a tray. "Of course."

The girls walked into the room. Sybil shut the door behind them, suddenly wondering where Edith was. Sometimes Sybil felt bad for the relationship her and Mary shared that Edith seemed to lack with her two sisters. Then, as her sister often was there to comfort her, even on the day of her wedding, Sybil felt more guilty for ever doubting such a bond.

Sybil poured them both a cup of tea, resolving to finish it quickly so she could begin to powder her face. All thoughts of getting ready were soon lost though, as the two sisters made small talk about the wedding, Mary's conversation with Matthew last night and then finally how Sybil's pregnancy was going.

"Papa wasn't too thrilled, as you can imagine. I mean, the rest of us were but I think for him it was like the final nail in coffin."

"I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner..." Sybil began. She smirked as her sister gave her the exact reaction she had expected.

"Sybil!"

"What? I'm a married woman. I have no shame in what I just said."

"Well it seems married life has done you well," Mary said, smirking before allowing her pursed lips to disappear in her tea cup.

"So well."

"Sybil, darling, honestly!" Mary's voice objected.

"Stop being a prude, Mary! You mean to tell me you and Matthew haven't been fooling around this entire time? Hell, you two were fooling around when Lavinia was still here..."

"Sybil Crawley! That is inappropriate!"

Sybil finished her tea, setting the porcelain cup down on the small dish it was handed to her on. "You're laughing! You know it's true. And it's Sybil Branson now. I haven't been a Crawley for a very long time."

Mary sat forward on the love seat. "I suppose you haven't." She paused. Something in her urged her to ask a question she already knew the answer to. It was written all over Sybil's face, and in the scattered clothing thrown about the room. Mary couldn't contain the smile she felt, no matter how bold, as she saw the evidence of her sister's marriage around the room her and her husband inhabited. She remembered hearing how Sybil and Tom had rejected the help of the staff when first arriving, something that earned them an eye roll as Mary wondered how in the world Sybil was going to change into one of her old gowns. She stopped wondering now, realizing she had far more help than Mary could ever imagine. The same help was evident with Mary knowing all too well that no gown could be unzipped by the same lady wearing it. "You're happy then? I mean really and truly happy?"

The younger sister beamed, not needing to construct an answer. With such strong feelings, her mind was often outweighed by her heart and the space she held for Tom within herself. "The happiest. I'm in love. I love where we live and our routine and my life, really" She explained. "It's perfect."

"They'll have to come see it," Mary said, as more of an assurance than a wish.

"I won't hold my breath."

In a way that only a sister can, Mary threw her handkerchief at her sister, watching as the soft cotton hit Sybil's arm and then floated down to the floor. As it hit the carpet, Tom walked out of the bathroom, his body covered in a towel. Mary looked away, doing her best to be modest in such a situation. She had yelled at Matthew the other day for being just as bold, but a part of her grew to be warm as she realized how comfortable such an action would be tomorrow.

"Syb, where did you put that morning jacket?" Tom stopped, looking up. He too avoided Mary's gaze, appreciative of her manners as he bounded into the room and made himself busy.

"It's in my dress bag, love," Sybil said, pointing to the armoire.

"Thank you." Tom pressed a kiss to her lips. He was thankful Mary was still staring at the wall, gazing at a painting he was all too sure had hung in this room since before Sybil was born. Holding onto the knot of the towel resting low on his hips, he grabbed the entire dress bag and disappeared back into the bathroom.

Mary finally looked up, her cheeks painted a deep crimson. "Syb?" she asked, never before hearing her sister's name shortened.

"Well he hasn't called me Lady Sybil in quite some time. It's not like I call him Branson anymore. We stopped that a long time ago..." Sybil said, teasing.

"How long was all of this going on?" Mary asked, her curiosity finally presenting itself. In all honesty, it was a question she had been wanting to ask since she first saw Sybil and Tom outside the garage. When their grandmother had first mentioned Sybil possibly hiding a beau, Mary could only brush off the idea. As she saw them, the way he looked at her for her to only return his gaze, Mary knew that Tom was much more than just a beau to her baby sister. It was reassured when Sybil grew defensive, protecting a boy Mary only barely knew. She saw the same intense look as Sybil and Tom shared their vows back at their wedding in September.

"Really, Mary..." Sybil began. She stopped herself, hoping her sister's defensiveness would cut her off before she was forced to explain.

"I'm just curious!" Mary explained, granting Sybil's wish. "Honestly. I'm not judging," she reassured.

Sybil sighed. She stood up and joined her sister on the loveseat, as if to tell her a secret when in a crowded room. "After the counting of the vote I was out at the garage a few times a week. Whenever I could manage. Of course at this time I had told myself we were just friends...and I think I really truly believed that for awhile..."

"Sybil you were 17!" Mary offered, her draw dropping in shock. "And you lied to me!"

"I didn't just lie to you, Mary! I was lying to myself too. And bully for all of that age nonsense. He was only 20! It was stupid but I don't regret it. Those were some of the best nights of my life."

"Sybil! Again!"

Sybil realized what she had done by describing the time of day. Her cheeks blushed, realizing how intimate those moments of no touching and only sincere words truly were. "We only ever talked. I was pure until we went to Ireland!"

"You didn't wait? Oh lord..."

"I did wait. I found the man I wanted to marry and I waited a very long time for him. Isn't that enough?" Her words were simple and they meant just as much to Mary as they did to Sybil. Mary was right: she couldn't judge. She thought back to the Turkish gentleman and the way she had never loved anything more than the way he smiled at her. There was so much more evidence in the love Sybil and Tom shared, and it made believing such a thing much easier.

"Well I suppose it'll have to be," Mary sighed, feigning the joy she felt for Sybil.

"Are you nervous?" Sybil said, smirking as she did so. Both sisters new exactly what she was referring to.

"I am not discussing this with my baby sister."

"Well you baby sister is having a baby..."

"Ha ha," Mary joked, forcing a laugh. She swallowed, suddenly thinking seriously about the matter at hand. "I suppose I am. This didn't exactly work out last time." No matter how far in the past she pushed her mistakes, it always reared it's head. Mary believed that to share such an event with Matthew would be to abolish it completely but she never forgot the way Kemal cried out and then collapsed against her in pain and not bliss.

"It's the best when you're in love," Sybil assured. Both girls blushed: Mary, because her sister knew far more than she did and Sybil out of boldness and pride.

"Does it though?"

"Mary, I wouldn't lie to you. Next to reading it's my favorite pastime."

"Ireland has certainly changed you," Mary stated plainly.

Sybil sat forward, grabbing her sister's hands. "Just don't worry. Matthew loves you. He'll be loving, no doubt."

"I suppose my baby sister isn't a baby anymore...Are you coming in to my room to watch me get ready? I mean, will you please," she begged with utter kindness. "I don't know if I can handle Mama and Edith alone."

Sybil giggled. "I'll wait for Tom to leave and then I'll come. But do call if you need me sooner, alright?"

Mary smiled, kissing her sister's cheek. Sybil watched her go. When she was gone, Sybil stared at the tray left on the small table by the window and how it exemplified that perhaps Mary was still the same girl she had always been.

"Will she ever approve?"

Sybil swiveled, staring at her now fully dressed husband. He wore the tailored jacket that once belonged to Matthew. His cheeks were smooth and his hair slicked back the way it used to be when he worked in the house and wasn't just visiting. "She doesn't disapprove, I actually think she's really beginning to like you very much, she just doesn't understand it."

Tom stepped into her, pulling her close. "And did you have to tell her we made love before our wedding night? Secrets in this house are rarely secrets for long..." he reminded.

"She's my sister!" Sybil defended. "I think she was actually more upset her wedding gifts weren't as big of a surprise as she had hoped," Sybil quipped causing them both to smirk. "And besides she's almost a married woman. Plus! We kept us hidden for years. I don't think that's anything she'll want to share...you look dashing," she added, no longer wanting to discuss a secret she cherished.

Tom pulled at the stiff collar. "I hate this coat." In his hand was the top hat Matthew's mother insist he grab. When he asked Matthew about it, he was assured the hat would never be worn, but instead was meant to be held in pictures in the same way girls would hold their handbags.

"But you look so handsome in it," Sybil confirmed, placing a passionate kiss to his lips.

"I can't believe I have to sit at the head table," he murmured, staring out the window.

"Hey, I'm going to be right there, okay?" Tom looked down to her, seeing the pleading in her eyes. "Do it for me?"

He sighed. "Trust me, love, that's the only reason I'm doing it.".

~!~

As Mary and Matthew said their vows and promised things to one another that only they could understand, Sybil stared at Tom, smiling as she remembered the same things he did. Everything about today was a reminder of the wedding they had nearly a year ago. When Mary and Matthew finished and the ceremony was over, they both continued to stare, Sybil finally laughing as Tom made a silly face her way. The entire congregation would have stared if they weren't so wrapped up in Mary and her new husband walking back down the aisle and out of the church.

Sybil was thankful for the attention her sister was getting for it allowed her and Tom some peace and quiet when the town would otherwise have many questions for him. Very few people bought the story of this young man being from the same Branson family from Cambridge. His accent was just as telling as the way him and Sybil seemed to be so in love. Arranged marriages, despite the one of the Lord and Lady whose house the reception was held in, rarely held such respect and adoration between two people.

A car picked each of them up, with Tom insisting he ride with Sybil back to the house. She smiled, loving how much more protective he was becoming of her. Usually such an insistence would cause her to grow irritated in the way that her father's comments on one of her gowns from her teenage years would have made her stomach drop. Instead, she loved the feeling of him loving her, pressing his palm into her back as he kissed her cheek and led them to the waiting car.

Part of her wanted to walk, to hold his hand and have some alone time on the way back to the house, but they knew that such a thing was not possible in the currently crowded streets. The backseat of the Rolls Royce provided them a few minutes of private silence.

"The ceremony was beautiful…" Sybil began.

"You okay?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

She nodded, continuing to look out onto the street as the driver brought them closer to Downton. Her look said it all, denying his question and in doing so, affirming what he only knew to be true.

"I'm sure we can make an excuse to go up early. We can stay for dinner and then steal away-"

"Oh god no," she spit out, cutting him off. "I'm so happy for Mary," Sybil beamed. "She looked stunning and I want to see them dance and see some old friends."

"Do you want me there?"

Sybil softened, realizing that what she thought him to think was true was quite possibly not what he worried about. She touched a palm to his cheek, caressing his skin to reassure him of things she was positive he should have already known. "Tom, you are my husband. I want nothing more than to go to this wedding party and have fun with you, alright? I want to show you off to the world, m'love…"

The chauffeur stood outside the car now, waiting for the moment occurring inside to end. Though he paid little attention to the elderly man with his back to the car, Tom couldn't remember a time when he was forced to let an intimate moment finish inside the Renault. He only remembered times Sybil's questions had practically asked him to take the back roads home, giving them more time to get to know one another.

"I just don't want this to be hard for you. I know how long your family has been waiting for this and I know how close you and Mary are. I want you to have a good time."

Sybil kissed him, wanting to do so much more but knowing they could not hold up the line of cars behind them more than they already had. "I will have the best time, but I need you by my side," she stated plainly.

They stepped out of the car, walking into the house hand in hand. Sybil shifted against Tom, wrapping her arm around his bicep while her other hand rubbed at her stomach. It was a habit she had lately, one Tom loved to watch. It was almost as if she was inviting the baby into the room, reminding those even those who wanted to ignore her child, that she was more than welcome in this world.

Mary and Matthew had already walked into the room, allowing Tom and Sybil to casually stroll in and find their seats. Alfred walked over to them, offering Tom a glass of champagne. He walked away and returned, presenting Sybil a glass of milk on a silver platter. Both her and Tom laughed, Sybil quickly taking the glass from Alfred before calling him a "doll." He assured her it was her pleasure as he walked away, watching the youngest Crawley sister sip at her favorite pregnancy treat.

Dinner was served, causing Tom to thank that the plates were pre dressed. He was exhausted, allowing others to wait on him these past few nights. It was nice to get a plate and not have to worry about anything other than seconds. As they ate, him and Sybil discussed the current article he was writing for work and how she had an interview at a local hospital on the day that they got back to Dublin.

Though they were both oblivious, people did stare. Girls Sybil used to call friends, for she had no other names for the girls she talked to at her parent's parties, stared at Tom. Thankfully the war had made visits few and far between so they had no time to recognize him as a servant. They saw he was handsome, with a sly smile and a nice build. They also saw the way Sybil was so utterly infatuated with a boy they had heard very little of before hearing of their marriage.

Neither Sybil nor Tom paid attention to them, only managing to stare at one another as they swayed on the dance floor after Mary and Matthew's first dance. They seemed to move with much more enthusiasm than the other couples, with Sybil laughing into Tom's shoulder as he spun her around. "Don't get me sick," she warned, secretly loving the way he held her so close after sending her off spinning.

"Oh, never," he teased. "You look beautiful," he whispered in her ear, as the orchestra played on. "You're putting Mary to shame."

She swatted at his chest. "Oh, shush!" She laughed again, tipping her head back as they continued to dance.

"Mind if I cut in, Tom?"

Lord Grantham's voice separated the young couple, causing their feet to still as Sybil's laughter died off. Her mouth dropped as well, staring from her husband to her father, now towering above them.

"Uh, yes," Sybil managed, not wanting to be rude. Reluctantly, as if signaling she had made the wrong choice, she let go of Tom slowly, her body not yet wanting to part from his. She did though, allowing her father to grab her hand before putting his hand on her waist.

Sybil shivered, the contact sending such mixed emotions. Years ago, his touch would have calmed her, but that was Tom's job now, something her father had given up when he refused to accept the love she felt so ardently. "You look gorgeous, my darling," Robert offered into his daughter's ear. They were moving now, though Sybil refused to call it dancing. As if she was the little girl she used to be, not yet touched by the realities of the world, her father guided her around the dancefloor, pushing her where she needed to go exactly when she needed to be there.

"Mary looks stunning," Sybil whispered not yet meeting her father's eyes. She was only saying what she was sure he was thinking. All her life she had known how her father felt about his eldest daughter. It was something that was perhaps more clear to her than Edith or even her mother. Sybil didn't crave the attention the way that Edith did, but she was aware of the lack of such an emotion when it came to the house she was raised in. Perhaps it was what pushed her downstairs to form relationships they all disapproved of.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. It was the first time he had mentioned the growing life inside of her.

Sybil finally looked up. "Fine," she whispered, thankful she could even manage that.

"Tom's been behaving…"

Sybil shook her head, looking down to the ground. "He's always behaved, Papa. He has far more manners than any of you in this room. He just doesn't agree with your politics."

"And what about you? Are you a Republican now?"

"I want the Irish people to have a free state, yes. I want my child to know that the place she was conceived and the place she comes from is a strong country capable of self-governance. I want England to stop the violence…"

"Need I remind you that it is all doubled sided?"

"No, you needn't. I know how it is in Ireland because it is much like it was in South Africa, Papa. They respond with violence because they have no other option. Our people don't LISTEN," she emphasized.

"I'm listening now," he stated, knowing it was the only way to calm her down. "Sybil-"

"No, because it's too late."

"For you and me or for Ireland?"

"I don't know," she whispered, looking over his shoulder. Her eyes, now welling with tears, caught onto Tom's. He was talking to Matthew and one of Matthew's relatives but he saw her, and suddenly the smile he held dropped as he sipped at his crystal flute. He searched her features for a sign that she wanted to be rescued but she remained, blinking away a tear before returning her attention to her father. "It was a beautiful wedding, Papa," she whispered before running away. Her feet only felt this pull here.

As she went, Robert realized what wedding his daughter was talking about.

Tom found her, sitting at the bottom of the staircase, her head in her hands. He pulled her into him, but it was clear that he didn't need to. She sought him out, crying into his neck as she held onto him with all she had. He pushed her hair behind her ear before dropping a kiss to her mouth. She smiled, if only to comfort him. The pain she carried was his pain, and she wanted nothing more than for him to stop worrying about her. She told him something similar, causing him to smile down at her.

"I always worry about you. I knew this was all getting to you, love. You are the most kind and caring person I know. If anyone is allowed to be upset, it's you."

Sybil laughed, wiping at her cheeks. It reminded him of the day back at the Autumn fair, when a girl she barely knew made her cry similar tears. "I don't think my character is reason for my father to change his ways. Though, I wish it was."

"I hate that he wasn't there. I know it hurt you then and I am so sorry it hurt you now-" She reached up for his face, pulling him in for a fiery kiss. He deepened it, allowing the weight of her body to push them back against the stair they rested against.

"Oh, good!" A voice bounded causing the two to pull away. Sybil was not crying anymore but instead laughing at her grandmother's words.

"Hi Granny," she murmured, looking up at the elderly woman.

"Is there room for me on that step?"

"This step?" Sybil asked, unsure of what her grandmother was referring to.

"Did I falter, dear? Move aside, Sybil. Your grandmother is old and I was just spun around the dancefloor by Matthew. That boy dances like a peasant."

"A peasant?" Tom inquired.

"They're always so uninhibited, you know," she finished. "Good dancers, though, I suppose. Your people have time for things like that…"

Tom stood up and helped Violet to sit next to her granddaughter. He went to leave but Violet invited him back, leaving the young gentleman to lean against the wooden banister as the two women talked.

"I wanted to be there," she said finally, causing Sybil to look up. Violet used her cane as support, still slightly embarrassed she was sitting on the floor with her granddaughter. It had been awhile since she had gone to the second floor of this house, much less sat on the carpeted steps leading upstairs. "I wanted to go but your father forbid it. It took everything in him to watch Mary go but you know how they are. And Edith only went to please your mother. Your poor mother," Violet began, changing her tune. "She was still getting over the flu but if it's between you and me she could have made the trip. I can't imagine not seeing a child get married." Violet paused. "I went to your aunt's wedding as you know," she finished. "I didn't like your uncle or his family, but I went. I even offered to pay for some of it. The flowers were ugly but...well that doesn't really matter now."

Sybil looked up to Tom. She stifled a laugh behind the tips of her fingers. "I really should have just gone, you know. But unlike you, I obey the men in my life."

"Granny, really-"

"And I guess this is me telling you I am jealous of your gumption." She went to sit up, signaling for Tom to come over and help her when her cane was not enough. "Just know, my dear," she said, standing now above where Sybil still sat. "You are lucky that you are so strong and that you have a man willing to stand by your side like this. Mary and Edith do not have the heart that you have or the backbone. You survived this just as we all knew you would. Or at least, I did, do you hear me? But they don't worry about you, Sybil. And maybe that hurts to hear, but they worry about Mary and they most certainly worry about Edith, but not you, dear. You're a strong girl, my Sybil darling. Perhaps the strongest woman this house had seen in some time. Do not let them take that away from you."

She paused, breathing in before continuing. "It takes a lot for me to say such things, Sybil, so please do not tell anyone we had this discussion." Sybil was beaming now, she laughed in response, knowing it was much less a discussion and more of her grandmother giving her opinion.

Sybil watched as her grandmother stuck out her arm for Tom to take. "Tom, do take me back to the ballroom, will you?"

Tom could only oblige, both him and Sybil sharing an eye roll and a laugh as he disappeared. When he returned, he helped his wife up, explaining to her that he had made their excuses and that the party was winding down anyway.

"They won't mind if we sneak away?"

"I know your feet hurt and you need your rest," he said, pressing a kiss to the side of her face.

Sybil smiled into it as they made their way up the stairs. "Are you to bed me, Mr. Branson?"

Tom smirked. "Shush, now. That's the last thing I need someone in this house hearing."

Sybil rubbed at the underside and top of her stomach. "Oh, do you think such a thing will surprise people? I am pregnant, Tom. They do know how such things work."

He said nothing but instead guided them off toward her room. Once inside they were happy to find the fireplace already lit and their bed already turned down. Sybil smiled, not even waiting for Tom to lock the door before ridding herself of her gown right there in the middle of the room. She stepped out of the flowing fabric, leaving her in nothing but her slip when she walked to Tom to help him undress. "Let me," she whispered, her fingers reaching up to untie his neckpiece. Tom obliged, letting her get him down to his boxers and undershirt.

He stopped her then, reaching around to hoist her up so he was carrying her in his arms. Sybil yelped but loved the way Tom was able to hold her the way no man ever had before. Slowly, he laid her down on the bed. Immediately, Sybil moved over, missing the contact of his skin burning against her own.

They made love slowly, taking their time with each nip and kiss. She lapped at the skin she marked near his collarbone and he did the same to the bundle of nerves between her legs. She cried out in ecstasy, grabbing the bedsheets she laid upon to hinder the wave of the orgasm currently ripping through her. In a way she was unable to describe she always needed his lips upon hers just moments after coming down from her high. When he accepted, as he always was more than willing to do, she allowed him to slide into her.

Languidly they moved against one another, bringing them to their climax together. It was loud but patient, causing Sybil to breath heavily into Tom's neck long after it had ceased. Her body felt like it was on fire, so naked and adored. Tom could only kiss her, to let her know that he loved her more and more each day. She replied in kind, kissing his chin as she reached down to cover them with the comforter resting at the end of the bed.

Thanks for reading my lovelies! If you're feeling generous, leave me a review! Please and thank you?

Also, I have posted my new fic Beautiful Collisions, as promised! Go read that if you have yet to do so. As I promised I won't post chapter two of that until this fic is over with but I really am absolutely in love with reading your reviews on that in the meantime.

x. Elle