One of Sybil's first memories was of her sisters in the nursery. Nanny had left, and, in her absence, Mary and Edith had devolved to childish screaming.

"I'm the eldest!" Mary shouted, black ringlets bouncing and cheeks flushed from the exertion of pulling on Sybil's left arm. "I get to say what we play!"

"Sybil doesn't want to!" Edith cried back. Her hold remained tight on Sybil's right arm, and her stance firm as she refused to let Mary take her baby sister away. "We all get a say in what to play."

Sybil's head felt like bursting at their screams. This argument had been going on for what felt like hours. Starting with Mary's pleasant demand as she skipped into the nursery, it had since morphed into a game of tug of war with her little body as the rope. Sybil's arms ached and her shoulders were beginning to hurt. She felt the indents where her sister's nails dug into her skin. She just wanted to go play.

"She's a baby! She doesn't know what she wants to play! We should go pet the ponies!"

"Bil is too young to be anywhere near horses!"

"You're just a scaredy cat!" Mary snapped, pulling harder on Sybil's arm. Edith refused to budge. "You don't like the ponies!"

"I don't! But that doesn't mean-"

"Ow!!!" Sybil began to wail. It was too much. The noise, the pain, she just wanted it all to stop. Both sisters let go immediately.

"Oh no!" Edith instantly kneeled down to where Sybil had slump to the floor to cry. She sounded desperate and guilty. "I'm so sorry, Sybil! I should have known better. Let me see. I'm so sorry. Let me fix it."

As Edith began gently rubbing and kissing her arms better, just like Mama would, Mary stood frozen. Her eyes were shocked and guilty too. After a moment she took a step backwards, then quickly turned and raced out the room yelling, "I'll get nanny!"

When nanny arrived, she was quick to set about order. Edith was scolded, Mary was told to run off to the stables, and Sybil was sent to bed for a nap after a glass of milk and a sweet. Before she slept, she demanded Edie read to her, and, like always, Edie did.

It became a familiar pattern of their childhood. Mary and Edith always fought. Sybil would always be caught in the middle. Edie would apologize, do what she could to fix it, and blame herself for the whole affair. Mary would get help, never actually apologize, but for the next week would demand they eat Sybil's favorite dessert or play her favorite game or read her favorite book. Sybil knew from a young age that both her older sisters loved her, in different ways, and she knew they would never get along.

Sybil had tried for years to get the two to reconcile and put aside their differences. She still did, to an extent, but the childish optimism she once had that they all would be the best of friends was long gone. They were both too stubborn, too opinionated, too opposite for friendship to be easy, and what chance they did have was squashed by the rest of the house.

Mary and Edith were usually the focus of the house. Sybil was never neglected. In fact, she was rather coddled and adored by most of the house as the beautiful baby of the family. But the same pressure and critical attention that was on her sisters was never on her. Sybil was always glad for that. It meant she could be who she was, and could quietly observe the rest of the people in her life without the same pressure and bias most of the household held. The two people she watched most closely were her sisters.

Mary was coddled like Sybil herself was. Beautiful and refined, she shone like the center jewel in Downton's crown. She was adored and spoiled by all. Praised and pushed to be elegant and aloof, the perfect English lady. Mary was all that the family wanted her to be, all the servants expected her to be. She reveled in that love and the assurance she was the ideal, and, as the ideal, she would be guaranteed the ideal life. That didn't happen.

Mary had played her part, been "worthy" of her happy ending, but it didn't come. Her perfection came with the cost of high walls, a cold veneer, and barbs that implied more bite than she was actually capable of. She was an immaculate doll, angry at a life on a shelf that didn't live up to its promises. She wanted more, but had no idea what that meant. She was a songbird, comfortable in her cage, too scared to leave, and yet unable to sing.

Then there was Edith. Edie hadn't been coddled like they had been. Sybil hadn't understood it as a child. Why were they different? Edie was smart and sweet and amazing. She always wore the most wonderful clothes and told the most interesting stories. She was the best at drawing, singing, manners, and school. Sure, she didn't like horses and her sewing and dancing weren't great, but what did that matter? Mary couldn't sew or draw or tell good stories, and she was still coddled. It wasn't until later that Sybil realized the truth. Edith wasn't pretty enough to be coddled.

Edith was pretty, to Sybil at least, but she wasn't beautiful, wasn't the ideal. Not by societal standards, and not when compared with her sisters. So, at once, Edith was pushed to be better in other areas to compensate for her lacking appearance, but was also vastly neglected so her other more promising sisters could get the attention.

Frustratingly, most in the house were at least subconsciously aware of this, and thus believed that Edith must be, with good cause, jealous of her sisters. Who wouldn't be bitter and spiteful under such circumstances? She was expected to have a doomed rivalry with Mary as they were so close in age. Edith was always destined to fall short and be lesser in their minds. These assumptions meant that, whatever Edith did, she was often compared to Mary, and her actions were seen as competing with Mary or acting out against Mary. It was all about Mary, and Edith was expected to live in her shadow and be unhappy about it. But that wasn't Edie.

Sybil as a little girl had thought Edith was the greatest, strongest person in the world. As an adult, she still did. Mary was the cultivated rose, with a beautiful bloom and sharp thorns, while Edith was a field of wildflowers. She might have been untended too, but she was free. What might have been a life lived in bitterness, she turned to brightness. Edith was always learning, always growing, always running about on her schemes for business or the estate, and generally using her neglected state to her advantage. She was already a disappointment as a lady so why not go all the way and do what she wanted?

But Edith never did things without a reason. She was always helping people. Her family, the staff, the village, they were all affected by her generosity and concern. Sybil had heard the gossip. It had started in the village when they were both mere teenagers. The people loved the young lady who walked around and spoke to them all. She was the one who listened, their trusted connection to the big house, and they loved her for it. The house was beginning to see what they did too.

Ever since Matthew had arrived, Edith had been acting more openly in Downton. It had started with Patrick and the incident none of them liked to think about, but nobody really had known what to make of that. Now, with Matthew, the whole house was getting to see how smart and kind Edie was. How different she and Mary were, and not in a way that portrayed Edith as jealous or Mary as naturally superior.

Sybil had silently cheered when Edith befriended Matthew. He listened to her and worked with her on issues she cared about, and trusted her to be his guide through the world of the aristocracy. Sybil hadn't gotten to speak with him much alone until the season, but when she did he seemed like a good man. A good man who seemed to enjoy talking to, working with, and dancing with her sister. Sybil had found herself smiling more at them then she did any of her suitors. Always watching out of the corner of her eye as they spun and laughed and spoke. But she had underestimated Matthew's blindness and forgotten her own sisters' flaws which had managed to meld together in an atrocious combination of lifelong issues.

Sybil loved Mary. She was quick witted, brave enough to speak her mind, and frighteningly good with people when she wanted to be. She was also a devotedly loyal and a loving member to their family, and protective enough she would fight a bear for Sybil if needed.

However, Sybil hated to admit it, but Mary had seen herself as above Edith for years. A lifetime of praise and lack of consequences had turned her vain and judgmental and used to being the best or at least better than Edith in the eyes of most around her. She might not want Matthew, no more than she had wanted Patrick, but she wanted him to want her. She was the better choice, the one more worthy of attention and admiration.

Not only that, but Mary had grown up believing the rumors. Everything Edith did had to be about her, and it had to be because she was jealous. Why did Edith want to stop her marriage to Patrick? Jealousy. Edie couldn't actually care for her sister. And now, why was Edie befriending Matthew? Must have something to do with Mary. Either to force Mary into a lesser marriage or speak badly of Mary to him, depending on which story fit the situation. Sybil was just glad no one had accused Edith of trying to take Matthew herself. She didn't think Edie could handle that. Especially with how the man was acting.

Sybil still had hope for Matthew, but it wasn't easy. Matthew, like most men, was weak to Mary's charms. She was beautiful and mysterious and hard to impress, and men seemed to like that. Mary also needed the validation so, whenever Edith and Matthew were close to something, she turned on her charms and swept him away. Sybil had thought Matthew would be better than that, but clearly not. He couldn't see who really cared, too blinded by infatuation, and Edith wasn't willing to fight for herself to show him, or anyone else, the truth. Not that she should have to.

Sybil loved and admired Edith. To her shame, she could even confess to loving, or at least liking, Edith more than the rest of their family. But the truth was that, while the constant neglect had created a strength to go her own way in some matters, it also led to Edith not viewing herself as important. On some level, Edith believed what she was told too. She believed, while she intrinsically had worth outside of social norms, it wasn't anything that others would recognize or appreciate. Just as Mary accepted she was the ideal and molded herself to that notion, so too did Edith accept and bow to the idea she was the unwanted reject. She had grown accepting dismissal, disappointment, and the idea she was lesser in society. It was the way things were, the way things had been for millennia, and, for all her determination to improve the world and Downton, Edie was remarkably realistic and traditional to her own detriment.

Sybil had tried most of her life to negate the ideas others had ingrained in Edith. She made it her job to remain by Edie's side as her first supporter and best friend. She knew it made Mary jealous. She knew it made Edie question why. But Sybil had decided long ago not to be like her older sisters in that way. She wouldn't bow to the pressures of the family or do what was expected of her because it was the done thing. Just because people threw expectations at her did not mean she would accept them. Instead, she would build her own path, and she would drag Edith with her until she had shaken off those things as well. Thus, their new outfits.

"Come now, we'll be late," Edie laughed, reaching out to snatch her grey glove from Sybil's outstretched hands. "You know Granny hates to wait."

"Oh, let her!" Sybil smiled. It was good to hear Edith laugh. She didn't do it much lately, since giving Matthew the cold shoulder. "Where is Anna anyway?"

"With Mary, per usual," Edith said, pinning the last tresses of Sybil's hair up. "That's why I called Gwen."

"But I'm not a ladies maid," Gwen protested.

"And you don't have to be," Edith nodded. "I can touch up our hair. You just need to help with buttons and corsets, don't worry."

"If you say so, m'lady," Gwen said nervously. She glanced at the garments laid out on the bed with wonder. "My! Those are grand. What are they?"

"Frocks, Gwen. Frocks with pants," Sybil smiled.

"They're so strange, but lovely."

They were. Sybil had stared in awe at hers. The flowing pants and swirling pattern on the bodice were beautiful. The bright blue color with the metallic neutrals were a wonderful combination, and Edith's was equally as pretty. The peach and silver made the blonde in her hair shine and pale complexion turn rosey. The pattern on the brocade was sharp and soft at once, and Edie accented its pearlescent shine with actual necklaces of silver and pearls and a dainty headband of the same material. They would be dazzling today.

The three girls laughed and carried on as they put on the new garments, fixed their hair, and added the final touches. Sybil beamed in the mirror as Gwen affixed the wide, matching beaded headband to her hair. She felt like a princess. In pants.

"Well, don't you look marvelous," Edith smiled. Sybil spun around. She had done a lot of spinning since putting this on. No wonder it was inspired by a dancer's outfit. The freedom she felt in it made her want to move. "Like Princess Jasmine in twentieth century England."

"Isn't she the one from the story with the genie?" Sybil asked. "You told so many when we were younger."

"A good story teller never forgets," Edith nodded sagely, straightening her long necklace in the mirror. "Now, are you ready?"

"Yes," Sybil bounced. "Thank you for your help Gwen."

"It was my pleasure, m'lady," Gwen smiled. "Now go knock their socks off!"

All three laughed and Sybil and Edith quickly exited the room. Sybil felt light as a feather taking the stairs, taking them two at a time. Edith laughed and trailed after her, nodding to a bewildered William in the Saloon as they passed to the drawing room.

Sybil flung open the door and paraded inside. "Good evening, everyone," she said, posing in a way that the flowing bottom of her outfit was revealed as more than a skirt.

"I hope we didn't make you wait," Edith chimed, coming to stand by her and link their arms.

"No, not at..." Papa trailed off as he turned from the fireplace to get a good look at his youngest daughters with confusion and worry, as if questioning if they knew what they were wearing.

Mama looked shocked. Granny and Cousin Isobel had opposite looks of baffled horror and excited approval. Mary looked them over with surprise and concerned judgment. Clearly, she was not going to rush out for her own anytime soon.

The last person Sybil looked at was Matthew. He and Edith hadn't truly spoken the last few days. Edith was impeccably polite but dismissive, and Matthew didn't push past the pleasantries. He just looked at her with a conflict of expression before turning back to Mary. He wasn't doing that now.

Matthew was smiling, radiating support and amusement as he looked at them, but he wasn't really looking at Sybil. His eyes had locked on Edith and that conflicted expression had returned softened by... Admiration? Care? Matthew Crawley clearly felt something for her sister.

Sybil held her head up and grinned at the entire room. Proud and confident with her sister standing equally tall by her side, as it should be. Like always, Sybil chose to cling to hope. Just maybe, there was a way to fix what was damaged, and have things always be as good as it was in this moment. She would hope and she would try. Edie deserved a sister who would help her, and Sybil had determined long ago to be that and more.