A/N Still no breaks for Merlin.

And still no hugs allowed by beta LyricalSinger, even though she is such a great help, nor to Caldera32 even though this story is for her!


Merlin walked slowly down the hallway after he left the Prince's chambers. The young warlock was trying to work out what he should do first. Ordinarily, he would have been able to reason it out in seconds, but this morning his brain just did not seem to want to process his thoughts. He finally stopped and leaned against the wall, scowling with his frustration at not yet having his plan in place. The headache that seemed to be a permanent fixture, and the aching throat and heaviness in his chest that had returned now that his tea had worn off, were nothelping matters.

Giving his head a tiny shake, he finally figured out the obvious - that it was best to drop by the Steward's office first to deliver Arthur's message and find out if he had any instructions for the Marshal. He'd see the Marshall next, and since that meant Merlin would already be at the stables, he could then borrow a horse to do Gaius' rounds instead of walking like he usually did. Then, deliveries done, he would be able to devote the rest of his day to whatever the Steward asked of him.

Merlin sighed. The plan was made and the tasks so far were simple enough, so why did it feel like the effort needed to get started was akin to climbing the highest mountain in the Five Kingdoms? In the snow? During a blizzard? The young servant grimaced and forced himself forward, telling himself he was acting like whining child to even think of complaining just because he had a sniffle. Especially when there were people on their way who were now homeless.


Eventually Merlin arrived at the Steward's office, knocking hesitantly to request entry. Even after so many years as the Prince's personal manservant and though he was arguably the most powerful person in the kingdom, the young warlock still felt a certain intimidation whenever he needed to enter the room.

"Come!" boomed a voice from within.

Merlin pushed open the door to find the Steward seated at his desk, looking over the list of assignments he'd drawn up to make the Great Hall ready for the Yule feast to be held in two days. Even from where he stood near the door, the young servant could see his name next to many of the carefully written tasks.

"So, you have finally decided to make an appearance, boy," the Steward said irritably. "I certainly hope you are ready to get to work; you have a lot to do today."

Merlin narrowed his eyes in anger. Although his mind was fuzzy, he was quite sure he was not late, neither did he remember the Steward asking him to arrive early. "Actually, I…," Merlin sputtered before the man cut him off.

"If you have come to tell me you are unwell and cannot perform your duties, you had better think again," the Steward spat. "I am already down to half of my staff due to this cold that everyone had decided to catch at the same time, and this idiocy of granting time off to serving staff at a holiday time."

Merlin gulped. The Steward would definitely not like any of what the young warlock had to tell him. "No, I…" Merlin tried again, only to begin coughing."

On seeing that the boy really did seem to be ill, the Steward said more kindly, "Sit down and catch your breath, boy." Once he had Merlin safely seated with a cup of water in his hands, and was sure that the servant had stopped coughing, the man sighed and said, "Forgive me for snapping at you. I am sorry you are not feeling well, Merlin, but if you do have it in you to carry out your duties, I would be much obliged. I find myself sorely short on able hands and really cannot afford to lose any more."

"I'm fine to work," Merlin said a touch uncertainly, while trying to hide his trembling hands. "I did not come to tell you otherwise, I came to bring you a message from Arthur." At the Steward's gesture to continue, Merlin explained the situation with the refugees who would be arriving before evening.

"That does put a wrinkle in my plans," the Steward admitted, although with much less anger than Merlin had expected. "But we must do what we can. You say that Arthur will allow me to move his dinner party to the Great Hall?"

"Yes, that's what he told me," Merlin answered.

"Good," said the Steward leaning back in his chair as he thought through his strategy. "We shall move all of the tables and chairs from the Small to the Great Hall immediately," he decided. "Some dividing screens will do nicely to give the illusion of a more intimate space for Arthur's party tomorrow, and they may be easily removed for the Yule feast the next day."

Merlin nodded slowly. Normally he would have leapt to his feet, ready to start at the very first hint of a plan, but today he was content to stay in his seat a bit longer.

"So tomorrow we shall prepare the Great Hall for both feasts," the Steward explained. "The results may not be as impressive as I had intended, but it will save us quite a bit of time, especially since the tables will already be in place and there will only be the one room to decorate."

Merlin shivered, and tried to discreetly pull his jacket a little tighter around him, only half-listening as the Steward solidified his plans.

"Now… the refugees…. We had better expect that most will need to settle in the Small Hall until after Yule; it will be difficult to find boarding for everyone until after holiday visitors and such have gone."

He paused for a moment in thought. "We shall need to bring in straw mattresses and blankets, perhaps some playthings for the displaced children…. clothing…." droned the Steward before adding, "There is a store room in that hallway that we shall clear out. Our guests may use the shelves to hold their belongings, though I expect they will bring little enough."

Looking up at the young servant, the Steward said, "As for the provisions for the village, you may tell the Marshal that they can be picked up at noon in the hallway by the servant's entry near the kitchens. We should have collected enough by then to load a dozen pack horses."

Now that he had been given his instructions, Merlin had no more excuse to stay in his seat, so he rose to leave, promising to return as soon as he'd finished delivering the medicines he had in his pouch.


After Merlin had delivered his message to the Marshal, the man had thanked him and hurried off to arrange the transport, leaving Merlin free to get a horse for his own needs. The young servant chose the tack he wanted to use, and walked over to the stall of his favourite mare. He drew some comfort from her solid presence, enjoying the feel of her warm breath on his neck and the way she nuzzled his hair in greeting. He closed his eyes and leaned against her for a moment, eventually to convincing himself to reach up and put the saddle on her back, even though it seemed unnaturally heavy for some reason. Just as he was tightening the girth, he heard the stable doors squeak open.

"Merlin, are you there?" someone called hesitantly. Someone that sounded an awful lot like Lancelot.

Startled, Merlin moved deeper into the stall, uncertain if he wanted Lancelot to know if he was there or not. He was not exactly sure why he didn't want to talk to the knight... actually, he realized, he didn't feel like talking to anyone. He just wanted to get finished with Gaius' rounds and get back into the warmth of the castle, but since that did not seem very fair to his friend, he finally called out, "In here," though he did not move from where he stood.

The warlock heard the heavy tread and metallic clink of the lightly armoured knight approaching, until at last, Lancelot peered into the stall.

"Ah, I'm so glad I found you!" the dark haired knight said, trying to make out his friend through the shadows.

"Yes, here I am!" said Merlin, trying his best to sound cheerful. "Why were you looking?"

Lancelot shifted from one foot to the next, and finally said, "Yes. Well, it's…. actually Merlin, I was hoping you could do me a favour…"

Merlin sighed and then berated himself for thinking it seemed that everyone needed a favour these days.

"I don't suppose you could…. No, forget I asked, you've probably got a thousand things…." stammered the young knight.

Merlin's brow crinkled in confusion. "Lancelot, what are you talking about? You didn't ask me anything…" the warlock said.

"Didn't I? Oh, well it's just that….." Lancelot managed before he trailed off again.

Just then the stable doors opened again, and Gwaine stuck his head through, calling irritably, "Lancelot,you need to come now, the group is almost ready to move out!"

The dark haired knight grimaced and ran his hand through his hair nervously.

Merlin did not know what to think. Lancelot was not usually so … indecisive. Obviously there was something wrong and it was probably personal, for the man was not injured and had seemed in good spirits when Merlin had passed near the training field earlier.

"You're starting to frighten me; what is the problem? Can I help somehow?" the young warlock asked. He caught himself hoping not, and immediately felt guilty, but the truth was he was already exhausted, and he was not sure how much help he would really be able to give.

Lancelot glanced back towards Gwaine who was gesturing impatiently for him to get moving.

"Ye-es, actually there is something…, but only if you are going that way already. And if you are sure it won't make you late with your other duties…," he said looking intently at the young warlock.

Merlin could not stop the groan of exasperation when Lancelot paused again. "I need to know what it is first," he said trying to prompt the man. The young warlock's headache was getting worse and he did not feel capable of much more conversation, even with his best friend.

The dark haired knight took yet another look towards Gwaine, "I'm coming, I just need to ask Merlin something first," he called.

"Is that who you are talking to?" the usually roguish knight asked. "Hello Merlin," he directed at the warlock before saying, "You'll need to make it fast, Lancelot. We need to leave."

"Don't worry about Gwaine," said Merlin quietly when he saw Lancelot scowling. "He's still feeling guilty about being ambushed. I'm sure he'll get his good-humour back in a few days."

The knight's eyes softened in understanding. He had not had much chance to talk to his fun-loving comrade over the past week, and had not known that Gwaine had taken his failed patrol so hard.

It seemed that thinking about his friend had finally caused Lancelot to focus on his own problem. "It's my own fault really," he said, turning back to the young warlock. "I left things too late."

Merlin was still confused, so Lancelot said, "It's Gerard," referring to the squire that Arthur had recently assigned to him. The Prince wanted the young knight to practice having people serving under him, since he believed that Lancelot had the ability to become one of Camelot's best military commanders.

"Arthur asked me to send him home to have a few days with his family at Yule," the knight continued.

Merlin was not surprised to hear this. Ever since Arthur had become regent just over a year ago, he had done his best to ensure that privileges like time off at holidays were provided to everyone who could be spared for a few days, and not just reserved for the highest ranking nobles. The servant was not sure why it was a problem for his friend, but he dearly hoped that Lancelot did not want him to fill in as a squire.

"He leaves at dawn tomorrow, but I won't have a chance to collect the scabbard I had made for him before then. I was going to do it today, but now Arthur has asked me to ride out to a village that has just had a fire….," the knight trailed off.

Merlin closed his eyes briefly. It was quite obvious what help Lancelot needed, but the young warlock just didn't know if he had enough strength to do it. He opened his eyes again, and looking at the hopeful face of the young knight, knew that he would have to find a way, for he could not refuse his friend. "Sure, I will fetch it for you," he said, trying his best to hide his sigh. After all, it was the least he could do, knowing that Lancelot was going out to help a group of people who had just lost everything.

"Now, you had better catch up to Gwaine," the warlock added as brightly as he could, having noticed that Lancelot looked uncertain about whether he should have asked this favour.

The knight smiled, glad that he would able gift his squire after all. "Thank you Merlin," he called as he rushed after his waiting comrade.

Lancelot never saw the look of resignation on his friend's face as the servant wearily led his horse from its stall.


A/N Massive thanks to everyone who is taking the time to read this story and special thanks to those who have taken the time to review - I hope you enjoyed the little thank you teasers :)