A/N Starting the stories as most of our seasons start…with Daisy.

Dasher [Daisy]

"Is that fire still lit?"

"Yes, Mrs. Patmore."

"And the kettles are on?"

"Yes, Mrs. Patmore."

"Then start upstairs, girl."

"Yes, Mrs. Patmore."

The germ of a cold had been passed amongst the downstairs staff and Mrs. Patmore had banished Ivy and the other two kitchen maids to their rooms for fear of contamination. Several of the chamber maids were also ill. Dr. Clarkson had even been called to look at Madge, who had an elevated fever.

This left Daisy dashing around, doing the work of four people. Circumstances had demoted her back to scullery maid for the time being. Part of her did not mind her change of status. The simple act of preparing the fires was one part of her old job that Daisy remembered fondly. She would move purposefully from room to room; silent and efficient. In those dawning hours of the day, Daisy had enjoyed the relative freedom of working unobserved.

Sometimes, when Mrs. Patmore was in a fine fit over breakfast preparations, Daisy longed for a time when her main morning duties consisted of making sure the fires were built properly. Climbing the stairs now, with the bulky ash bucket, Daisy's nostalgia disappeared. She just hoped the hall boys had brought up the wood she needed.

The fires were extra important today of all days. The family would be waking early to gather in the drawing room to open gifts for baby Sybbie. Everything had to be perfect for the child's first Christmas.

Despite the heavy bucket and fireplace tools, Daisy made quick work of building the ground floor fires. She did linger briefly in the festively decorated drawing room, seeing all the fine toys as they waited silently for little Sybbie. The child was barely old enough to turn over, let alone play with toys, but that had not stopped her grandma and aunts from purchasing a gaggle of dolls and stuffed toys.

Creeping upstairs to light the fires in the family rooms, Daisy remembered a poem that Mr. Carson would read to them on the odd Christmas. "Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse." Daisy smiled to think what Mr. Carson or Mrs. Hughes would do if a mouse were actually discovered in any of the upstairs rooms, stirring or not.

Mr. Carson only read the poem on the occasions when the staff had performed their jobs especially well and he had indulged in an extra glass of mulled wine as a reward. He never got drunk, but sometimes, Daisy noticed, he smiled more easily. On those occasions, it was a simple thing for Mrs. Hughes to gently convince him to read the poem in that hypnotic voice.

He had read it during Daisy's first Christmas at Downton. She counted that day amongst one of her first happy memories. It had been the first time that she had received a gift of any kind. Lord and Lady Grantham had bought each of the kitchen staff clean linen to make aprons or caps for the coming year. But the best gifts had been the peppermint sticks and oranges she had found on Christmas morning in the stocking Mrs. Patmore had made her hang.

This gift, combined with the poem had ensured that Daisy believed in Santa for many years to come. If she were truly honest with herself, she still did believe in Santa. But now, Daisy knew that Santa was not a round bellied, red clad elf with rosy cheeks. Her Santa was a round bellied, red-haired cook with rosy cheeks.

With the fires lit and the family beginning to wake, Daisy dashed down the stairs to help Santa with the breakfast trays. The next few hours were a blur of activity until it was finally time for the staff to have their Christmas. Exhausted, Daisy finally collapsed in her chair beside Mrs. Patmore. The hall boys had been asked to serve in the absence of the kitchen maids, who were all sharing a small feast, quarantined in one of their attic rooms.

"Daisy." Mrs. Hughes voice called from the other end of the table. "I believe you've a visitor for Christmas luncheon."

Mr. Mason stood in the servant's hall doorway holding his hat in his hand shyly. Daisy's weariness disappeared as she jumped up to greet him. Quickly, she ushered the diminutive man to the empty seat beside her. "Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Hughes were kind enough to invite me. A body should be with family on Christmas."

Daisy could only nod numbly and smile at Mr. Mason. As the first of the food was passed their way, Daisy smiled at Mrs. Patmore and whispered, "Thank you."

"Happy Christmas." Mrs. Patmore winked at her, her eyes all a twinkle.

I've roughed out which reindeer are which staff, but I am open to suggestions...We're all really busy this time of year, so reviewing is not necessary, but always appreciated.