magfreak:

A Secret Santa fanfic for Mosteyn! 

Featuring Sybil, Saoirse and Michael Branson …

George and Mary Margaret Crawley …

And Marigold and Peter Pelham …

…  getting up to the things that you’d expect the children of the Crawley sisters to get up to.

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It was cold outside so other than the long embrace shared between Cora and Sybil, greetings quickly moved to the entrance hall, where there was a flurry of of them among the adults for several minutes before Mary, Matthew, Edith, Bertie all finally stood back with their combined collection of children for the footmen to take the Bransons’ hats and coats. Once done, Robert and Cora stepped forward again, the latter unable to hold back her tears as she looked at Sybbie, who couldn’t help but blush at the attention.

“Oh, my darling, you look so beautiful,” Cora said. “You seem barely younger than your mother when she first left us to become a nurse.”

“Mama, don’t exaggerate,” Sybil said. “It’s not even been ten years.”

“You look like a proper young lady, in any case,” Cora said, looking back at Sybbie.

“Thank you, grandmother Cora,” Sybbie said quietly.

“We call her granny,” a small but determined voice piped up behind Cora. “You should call her that too, since she’s your granny too, isn’t she?”

Mary put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders, like a gentle reminder not to speak out of turn, and Maisy’s shoulders sank as if this reminder was one she was subject to on a regular basis.

But before Mary could speak up to apologize for her daughter, Saoirse did. “Da’s mam is our granny. We call grandmother Cora grandmother Cora because … ” Saoirse trailed off and looked up at her mother. “Why do we call her that?”

“Because that’s who she is, silly,” Sybil answered.

“You may call me whatever you like,” Cora said with a smile, now greeting her second Branson granddaughter for the first time. “You must be Soairse.”

Saoirse smiled, proud of herself and pleased that her name had not been mispronounced.

“Surely, you remember what you called me,” Robert said, stepping behind Cora to greet Sybbie, who despite all the nerves she felt at being immersed in memories she barely recognized, felt warm inside at the sound of his voice. She smiled. “Hello, Donk.”

Before she even realized she was doing it, Sybbie stepped toward her grandfather and wrapped her arms around his midsection, closing her eyes at the familiarity of the smell of his suit, the roughness of the tweed on her cheek. Michael and Saoirse exchanged a quick glance and a shrug and—always inclined to do as their sister did—immediately followed suit.

“Hi, Donk!” they sang, throwing their arms around the grandfather they had never met, something about the silly name having rendered moot their initial impression of him as a stuffy old man.

Cora smiled at the sight, pleased, while Tom and Sybil looked at one another and laughed in surprise. Robert was downright bewildered. (But also pleased.) Sybbie opened her eyes and was about to look up to Robert’s face when her eyes caught sight of someone else, stepping forward.

“THOMAS!”

It had been many years since anyone had called Barrow by that name, and he had no time to form words in response when the trio of Branson children who had pinned Robert in their embrace ran over to do the same to him. The now longtime butler was as bewildered as his employer, though—given his relentless stoicism—much less obviously so.

“Why are they doing that to Barrow?” Maisy asked loudly and in a concerned pitch.

Tom stepped up quickly, pulling the children back toward himself. “They are rather free with their affection. Sorry about that, Thomas.”

“It’s Barrow now, sir,” Thomas said in the humorless tone that Tom remembered well.

“Of course,” Sybil said in an easy tone. “What a wonderful promotion for you. It’s so very nice to see you.”

“Thank you, Lady Sybil,” Thomas replied.

“Don’t you like to give hugs, Miss Maisy,” Sybil said turning to her niece.

The latter gave her head a skeptical shake, which made the adults around her giggle.

“I’m afraid she has her mother’s affectionate nature,” Matthew said.

Sybil laughed heartily while Mary rolled her eyes and said, “I’m as affectionate as the next English person, which is as affectionate as any person needs to be, thank you very much.”

Sybil took Sybbie’s hand and stood her in front of her cousin George. “I don’t suppose either of you remember, but you were quite close when you were young.”

George and Sybbie eyed each other rather warily, as if disinclined to believe that had ever been the case. George looked up at his father, as if asking for permission to move away.

Matthew said, “Go on, son, say hello to your cousin.”

“Hello,” he said quietly.

“Hi,” Sybbie responded.

“Do you remember Marigold?” Edith asked, pushing her own daughter, who’d been holding her younger brother’s hand, to join the tête-à-tête.

Sybbie stepped back once again and shook her head.

“Hi,” Marigold said quietly, with a nervous smile.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll all be thick as thieves again in no time,” Cora said.

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Read full fic here.