Author's note -

Thank you so much to everyone who has read/followed/reviewed/favourited this collection so far! I always love to hear from you. :)

This ficlet was inspired by a prompt from magfreak for the S/T Rock the WWI AU theme on Tumblr - 'politics'. Thank you for sending it to me!

Christmas truce

Late December 1914

The air was crisp enough to bring a pinkish colour to Sybil's cheeks as she walked around the side of the house on one of the last evenings of the year. However, it wasn't only the winter weather which gave her feet extra speed towards their destination. There was someone she wanted to see, someone she had been thinking about that festive season, someone she had been missing.

She pushed through the garage door and saw Branson, who was leaning against the car and reading the paper in the light of the single bulb over his head. He looked up as she came in and she couldn't miss that his eyes gleamed for a moment when he saw her, before he hid them behind a careful, appropriate mask she'd seen him don before. While she understood why he wore it, she also wondered what might happen if, one day, he didn't.

"Good evening, Lady Sybil. Can I be of assistance with anything?"

He picked up a rag to wipe his hands as he put the paper down and she found her eyes lingering on his well muscled forearms, revealed by the shirtsleeves he had rolled up to the elbow. Her cheeks retained their rosy hue despite the warmth of the garage as she realised from the little grin that curved his lips that he had seen her looking at him.

"Hmm, hmm! ... no, not really, Branson – I was just, umm, realising that I hadn't seen you for the last few days, what with Christmas and everything... what were you reading when I came in? You seemed very engrossed."

"It's an interesting story in the evening news, milady – something that happened at the front line. Apparently, the German and English soldiers were both singing carols to each other in the trenches, and then a few of them came out into No Man's Land to wish each other a Merry Christmas, and played football together."

"My goodness, Branson! Playing football, with the enemy? Is that really the right thing for our soldiers to do?"

"I see it quite differently, milady. The average German soldier isn't that different to the average British soldier – he misses his home and family, he wants some comfort and good cheer at the Christmas season, just like our boys. I feel for Fritz as I feel for Tommy. Both of them are pawns in this great game being played by cigar chomping generals, safe at home in London and Berlin. Both of them are equally powerless, both of them are just as likely to die in a war they don't understand, because someone told them their country needs them, that it will all be some great adventure."

She thought about it. "I think that what you are really saying is that we are all human beings, and that is what made those men get out of the trenches to kick a ball around with some other men they are usually meant to kill on sight."

"That's about it. There's no just cause in this war, it's all about one group of aristocrats trying to prove they are more powerful than another group, with the enlisted men on both sides as cannon fodder."

"Well, in that case, I'm glad for our boys that they had the chance of some Christmas cheer. If I'd only thought of it sooner I could have tried to do something for them, send over a Christmas cake, or some warm blankets, or something."

"You'll have your chance to help them, milady – mark my words, the war won't be over for years yet."

"Do you really think so, Branson? Papa and his friends said it would be over by Christmas, and they were wrong about that... but years?"

"I do. I also think that before this war is over, it will be fought by men compelled by their governments to enlist. Not just people like Mr Matthew, who chose to fight, but men who don't want to go."

"Would the British Empire really do that – force its men to fight?"

"It's already done a lot worse than that, milady, if you only knew."

"Will you tell me about it, Branson? I'd like to know more about it, to understand."

He looked down for a moment, then nodded. "I'd be happy to, milady, but would your father approve?"

"I don't know. Probably not. But perhaps – my father's point of view isn't the only one I need to know, to understand this war?"

She paused, realising this was a sensitive point for him. "Whatever I want to do, it would always be up to you if you wanted to be a part of it. After the Count... well, I haven't forgotten what nearly happened to you because of me."

Branson smiled. "Don't worry about it, milady – you told me you were sorry after that day, and I know you meant it."

Drawn in by his eyes, blue velvet as the snow laden sky outside, now locked on her own, she took a step closer to him, feeling her heart racing in her chest. She longed to reach out and take his hand, to feel his fingers twined around her own once more, warm and firm as they were in her memory. Then, she forced herself to break his gaze.

"Ah, well, I should be getting back inside, I suppose – Mama will be looking for me. But I did want to say – Merry Christmas, Branson."

"Merry Christmas, milady."

Sybil nodded at him and went outside, closing the door behind her. As she walked back to the house, the warmth coursing through her veins kept her warmer than any cashmere wraps ever could.

A/N -

This story refers to a real incident in December 1914, where the British and German soldiers left their trenches along certain stretches of the front line to share Christmas greetings and play football together.

Like many of you, I suspect, I've always been fascinated to imagine what happened between Sybil and Tom during those lost years - summer 1914, where they held hands for the first time, to summer 1916, soon after which Tom proposed to Sybil. Something must have happened! So this is a little missing moment - part of a story between them that gradually built up so that, by the time Tom asked Sybil to marry him in York, and she didn't refuse him, there was at least some kind of understanding between them. An understanding on Tom's part that he was in love with her, and which Sybil had an inkling of too - because she knew what he was going to say, didn't she? Although she hadn't realised it yet (or perhaps she had but she wasn't ready to admit it), I believe Sybil was in love with Tom too by the time of his proposal. That's my headcanon, anyway! I may come back to these years in future chapters of this fic.