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North to South (GoT, Jon Snow)


Dusty15

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North to South
by Dusty15
Game of Throne fic

*SPOILER WARNINGS FOR ALL CURRENT EPISODES THROUGH THE END OF SEASON 7*

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If you're not planning on watching the show or just want some backstory for what is going on here without knowing anything about the show, here's some fast facts so you can still read and enjoy the story:

-Jon Snow is a man from the North who recently fell through the ice on a mission and barely made it back to safety. When he was found, he was unconscious and mostly frozen. He was taken on board a ship belong to Daenerys Targaryen, "Mother of Dragons" and candidate for the throne. They've expressed some subtle feelings for each other up to this point, but nothing major. Daenerys "Dany" has recently had one of her three dragons die during the mission where Jon was wounded/frozen. Davos is Jon's squire of sorts (he's a knight) and Missandei is Dany's head handmaiden and advisor. 

 

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When he wakes, he feels a hundred shooting pains across his body where the frostbite has nipped at his toes and where his skin prickles as it slowly returns to a normal temperature. Everything is stiff and achy and generally uncomfortable. But when he opens his eyes and sees her, it all fades away against the rush of sadness.

“I'm sorry,” he says. His voice sounds far away and barely a whisper to his own ears. He swallows and tries again. “I'm so sorry.”

He knows what needs to be done, even with the cold addling his thoughts. When she slips her warm hand out of his, he's no longer the King in the North; he's a subject of Daenerys Targaryen.

She leaves him lying alone in bed, his mind racing. In spite of his injuries, there's a warmth of desire pulsing through him and he closes his eyes, settling down under the furs and letting the heat spread through his limbs. But he's still weak and even the short visit has tired him enough to send him back to sleep quickly as the need for rest outweighs his want.

--

The next time he wakes, he's drowning again. The icy water's grip tightens around his throat as his furs and armour drag him further and further below the surface. Dead hands grab and twist at his ankles, pulling him deeper, but as he fights back and kicks upward.

And then he surfaces with a gasp, trembling from the cold. But he isn't back on the ice, north of the Wall; he's on a ship headed south and someone is trying desperately to help him.

“There's a good lad,” Davos says, holding onto Jon's shoulders and pushing him back into the mound of lumpy pillows. “You're okay.”

Jon falls back, coughing violently.

Under the thick pile of furs, he's shivering convulsively, unable to control his limbs. And the coughing won't rest, spasming and gripping his lungs in a fight to breathe. Davos shoves another pillow under his head, forcing his chest more upright, and claps a hand to Jon's upper back, giving him several sharp blows. Jon coughs hard once more and then regains his breath, going boneless and weak despite the chills vibrating his muscles.

“We have to keep you warm,” Davos urges, pulling up the furs so they're almost around Jon's neck. He tucks another small pelt around Jon's head like a hood. Jon doesn't protest. The ship is draughty and without the facilities for a fire, so he's grateful for any warmth he can get.

Davos rubs his hands up and down the outline of Jon's torso under the furs, trying to create more warmth. Slowly, Jon's quaking chills start to subside and he can mostly keep his teeth from chattering.

“You okay?” Davos asks. His worried face betrays the confident sound of his voice.

Jon nods weakly.

“Better,” he says, voice raspy. With sleep has come a deep-seated congestion in his lungs and nose that have left him breathing with a distinct rattle. Davos frowns and tucks the furs closer.

“I'm going to see if Missandei or one of the guards has some herbs to help your breathing,” he says to Jon.

“I just need rest,” Jon protests, his words followed by a snort and sniffle as he fights the congestion. He untangles a hand from under the furs and presses it to his nose. It does little except to encourage a sneeze that Jon muffles with his fist.

Hhh-gchfff!

“Health to you,” Davos replies. “You need medicines if they have them. I'll be right back. In the meanwhile...”

He reaches into the pocket on his belt and retrieves a rough linen square.

“It's not particularly soft, but it's clean,” he says, handing it over.

Jon takes it and presses it to his nose, stifling a second, more irritated sneeze.

Nhh-NXGHT!

Davos leaves the room and Jon lies still, feeling the gentle lull of the boat rocking his aching body. Where the magically-healed scars on his chest are marked, there are sharp pains as each cough and sneeze stretches the damaged skin along the stab wounds. He rubs the one over his heart absentmindedly, soothing the irritated scab.

He tries to relax, mentally willing his muscles to quit shivering, but every time he feels himself begin to slip back into sleep, he's startled by the reflex of a cough or the overwhelming itch in his nose as it demands to be cleared again and again.

When Davos returns, Jon is stuck in the cycle of a painful sneezing fit, curled up under the furs with the handkerchief held to his nose.

Eh-TSGH! Nhh-heh—eh-TGSGHH!

He pauses, looking up through watery eyes as the door opens. Davos has his hands full and Missandei is not far behind. Beyond them, he sees Dany watching silently. Their eyes meet for a moment before Jon is forced to blink with the onslaught of another sneeze.

Eh-TSCHITTT!

When he looks up again, the door is closed.

“Alright, lad,” Davos says, setting down a pile of accrued bowls and herbs and other odds and ends. “Let's see if we can get you settled a bit.”

He starts by tucking a wine skin under the blankets against Jon's chest. They've emptied it of its intended libation and instead filled it with hot water.

A metal bowl is set on the table by Jon's beside and Davos shuttles three burning coals from a bucket into the bowl. Overtop, he sets another metal vessel into which Missandei pours a jug of water and adds a handful of herbs. The liquid begins to simmer and steam, releasing a strong scent. Jon cannot yet smell it, but he can feel the hot moist air slowly begin to work at the congestion.

While the water begins to boil, the pair work to heat another metal vessel and brew a pungent tea that is offered to Jon in a ceramic cup.

“Can you sit up a bit?” Missandei asks, kneeling at the bedside. Jon pushes his hands down and sits up a little, sliding out from under the mound of furs. Even the slight effort results in a small fit of coughs. Missandei adjusts the hot water wine skin and then guides the cup into his hands, encouraging him to drink.

He sips at the broth tea, letting the hot liquid slide soothingly down his irritated throat. Between the tea and the steaming bowl, his nose is starting to dribble a little and he sniffs, trying to stem the flow.

“Sounds like it's working,” Davos remarks as Jon pauses to blow his nose before finishing off the tea.

“Aye,” Jon rasps, grateful. The warm broth has made him drowsy again.

Davos adjusts the furs and pillows, helping him to get comfortable. When Jon is finally asleep once more, they leave him alone to rest.

--

He wakes to a smoking basin at the bedside as the last of the coals burn out. The pungent steam has stopped and the room smells only vaguely of the medicinal vapour. Jon rolls over in bed and stretches, checking his body for pain. The warm wine skin has slid off sometime during his rest and is now sitting cooled on the mattress at his side.

Though his head still feels stuffed with cotton, he does feel an overall improvement. After two days in bed, however, he's beginning to feel restless. He sits up slowly, testing himself with careful movements. He manages to get himself to the edge of the bed and he stands on legs that wobble like a baby deer. Carefully, he stumbles his way over to his pile of thawed clothing and layers on the heavy cloak over his trousers and shirt. When he's dressed, he's panting and wheezing with exertion, and he takes a moment to sit down and wipe his running nose. Then, he tucks Davos' handkerchief into his pocket and mounts the stairs outside his room to the main deck.

The sea air is crisp and biting compared to his airless room and his lungs seize up for a moment, making him cough. He grasps at the ship's rail and bends over, chest convulsing. With a gasp, he recovers and leans heavily against the rolling side of the ship, looking out at the choppy waters.

“Jon!” a voice says, alarmed.

He looks up to see Dany approaching. He offers a wan smile.

“Your grace,” he croaks. His voice is barely a raspy whisper, so he clears his throat with a sputter and tries again. “Your grace.”

“You shouldn't be up here,” she says.

“I needed some air,” he offers in explanation.

“There are windows in your chamber we could open,” she says, looking at him with an expression of great concern. “You're not well enough to be up here. It's too cold.”

“I am a man of the North,” Jon says, though he's loathe to admit that he is quite cold and that the sea air is starting to bite at his still-sensitive skin. He disguises a shiver by moving to sit on a crate.

Dany remains standing over him, silent.

Eh-TSGXHTT!

Jon bends forward, sneezing into his hands. Embarrassed, he digs in his pocket for the handkerchief.

“Seven blessings.”

Nh-GHTT!

“And again,” Daenerys repeats. She sits at his side and extends a hand out tentatively. It rests on Jon's cheek and she can feel his teeth chattering.

He cannot help but lean into her touch. Her hand is unnaturally warm and when she removes it, his cheek still seems to radiate heat from her.

“Come back to bed,” she says, holding him by the shoulders and helping him to stand. He stumbles but she steadies him, leading the way back down the stairs to the ship chambers.

He stands shivering before her as she gently unlaces his cloak and heaves it onto a chair.

“Sit,” she instructs and he lets himself collapse onto the edge of the bed. She tugs off his boots and swings his legs onto the downy mattress, pulling the furs up over his shaking body.

“I'm sorry we have no facilities for a fire here,” she says, lowering herself to sit on the edge of the bed. She reaches her warm hands to touch his brow and Jon practically melts under her touch. “I wish I had some way to help warm you.”

“Your hands,” he says, eyes closed and face relaxed as she smooths the hair off his brow. “They're very warm.”

She smiles.

“I've been told,” she says. “A mother of dragons runs hot.”

The mention of her children opens the still-healing wound of her loss. Jon shifts under the covers, reaching his hand up to hers.

It's only for a moment that they touch before Jon suddenly withdraws his hand and turns his head away.

Hrhh-TSCHHT!

“Seven blessings,” Daenerys repeats.

“I'm going to be the most blessed man in Westeros,” Jon quips softly and he feels his heart swell at her resulting smile.

“Let me see if I can help any with that. If not, we'll have to get a second round of Missandei's broth tea.”

She reaches out both hands and gently presses her fingers along his sinuses, sliding downward with a gentle pressure. He winces but does not pull away.

“Does it hurt?” she asks.

“A little, but it's helping,” he says.

She guides her hands over his face, smoothing over his eyes and the worried crease in his forehead and up into his tangle of curly hair. The hair is oily and matted from days in bed but she combs through it, taming some of the mess back off his face.

“You need a wash, Lord Snow,” she tells him.

“I know it,” he says with a grimace. “Not much chance I'll be dunking my head in a bucket of seawater anytime soon though.”

“I'll see if we can heat up enough for a basin, then,” she replies, standing to go.

“Davos can see to getting me washed,” Jon says, feeling himself blush. The heat in his face is a strange sensation.

Dany smiles at him and lets a small laugh escape.

“Rest,” she commands. “I'll send one back with him.”

She leaves Jon in search of the ship's cook. When she returns with Davos and a steaming basin of water with clean cloths, Jon is asleep again, snoring softly.

“I'll tend to him, your grace,” Davos offers. “I'll wake him before it cools.”

“No,” Dany says, looking down at the sleeping man. “Leave it there. I'll sit while he sleeps.”

Davos sets the basin down on the bedside table and follows the command to leave. Daenerys picks up the cloth and dunks it into the warm water, wringing it out before bringing it to Jon's face.

She smooths it along his brow and across each cheek, then up to his hair and behind his ears. Jon sighs in his sleep but does not wake. She tucks the cloth around behind his neck, gently scrubbing at the nape and down to his shoulders.

Carefully, she folds back the furs and wipes the bit of chest above his shirt. Jon mutters something inaudibly and his head lolls to one side as he snores louder, struggling to breathe.

“Jon,” Daenerys whispers, gently trying to move his head back onto the pillow. “C'mon.”

He groans and rolls over, coughing fiercely. Each inhalation between coughs is a deep and wheezy rattle. Dany reaches under the blankets, finding the shivering curve of his back and she rubs her hand along his spine.

Jon's coughing doesn't settle and he wakes up, red-faced and covered in a cold sweat. He tries to sit up and is guided by Daenerys, who kneels on the bed at his side and mounds pillows behind his back for support.

He coughs and coughs, mouth desperately sucking for air between each violent spasm. His nose runs freely down his lip, mixing with damp sweat. Daneyres wipes his face with a clean cloth and tries to help him regain his breath.

Finally, he goes limp, breath coming in and out in an exhausted whistle. When he needs to sneeze, he barely has the strength to turn his head away.

Urhh-TSXCHHH!

“Please go,” he mumbles, wiping at his nose with the back of his wrist.

“Not when you're this unwell,” she says, reaching out to wipe his face off again. He allows it, but keeps his eyes downcast. “I need you recovered by the time we reach King's Landing.”

“I hear it's warm there,” he replies, eyes drooping with sleep.

“Warmer than the North, that's certain,” Dany says.

Heh—eh-nhGHT!

Jon sneezes again, shielding his nose with his hand.

“You're not having a very good time of it, are you?” says Dany sympathetically.

“It's hard to rest when you can't really breathe,” Jon admits, and then gives his nose a sharp blow.

Daenerys stands and circles to the other side of the bed. She settles herself tentatively next to Jon and gathers a pillow into her lap.

“Here,” she says, patting the pillow. She helps to guide his head to the elevated position on her lap and puts her hands soothingly over his sinuses, letting the heat of her fingertips radiate across his skin.

Jon sighs in relief and closes his eyes. Her hands work their way along his face and down to his upper chest where he fingers pause briefly as they skim the top of one of his scars.

He reaches up and takes one of her hands in his.

Raising it to his lips, he kisses her knuckles and Daenerys suddenly draws back, pulling her hand away.

“Jon,” she says. “I can't.”

He opens his eyes, looking up at her.

“I can't,” she repeats. “This meeting at King's Landing. It can be my only focus. Do you understand?”

He feels his stomach drop. He's taken advantage of her kindness and mistaken it for passion.

“I'm sorry,” he says.

She smiles gently.

“I should go. You should rest more.”

He nods, lifting his head from her lap and settling back into the pile of down pillows. She leaves him alone to sleep and when he next wakes, he's alone but with a fresh steam vapour rising from the nightstand and a cup of hot broth close at hand.

When they dock in King's Landing in a day's time, he's mostly recovered though he still wears his fur cloak despite the warm air, keeping himself wrapped tight against the coastal breeze. When he steps on land, he notices the scent of jasmine flowers from a nearby tree. He inhales deeply, grateful for his clear, strong lungs and the fragrant smell that reminds him of the scent of Daenerys' skin close to his.

He thinks of it again later as he raises his fist to knock on her chamber door.

 

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This was so... beautiful :o

I've always wondered why we don't have more Jon Snow fanfics! I'm usually more interested in original F illness stories, but Jon is... well... it's hard not to have a crush on him :blush: I'm not usually one to crush on characters/actors at all, but he's such a complex, amazing character. And obviously he's pretty hot :lol: (at least for my tastes).

But yeah, Jon Snow being sick with a cold is just so fitting, and you've done it SO WELL. I love that you've included the budding relationship between him and Daenerys, and you've nailed the complexity of it, too. I also love how Daenerys and Davos are so caring and concerned :wub: And the idea that Daenerys runs hotter than normal and can use her hands to do a soothing sinus massage... I mean... that killed me. Such a wonderful idea and so well executed!

Incredible job, really! :clapping2:

 

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Oh. OH. WOW.

Honestly I've been coming here so frequently for the sole reason of wishing someone would write this and was expecting to be disappointed again! But I'm pretty sure you just made my day/year/life for even writing it at all, let alone writing it so well! (not that I'm surprised)

I LOVE that you made it seem like such a normal progression from hypothermia to illness. I know it's KIND OF an old wives' tale that getting cold means you get a cold, but that doesn't even matter in this story; it's incredibly realistic that he's feeling so poorly and achy and cold and his immune system is probably weak and it all makes sense! And he's still so shivery and weak and the coughing and sniffling and sneezing is killing me.

 Your sneeze spellings fit him perfectly, and his actions are SO realistic. You could just see all of it happening, especially the restlessness and the embarrassment and the rising romantic tension plus Daenerys' concern and gentle caretaking. And it's not like he probably even misread her actions too much--even their eye contact is sexy, and she's stroking his hair and massaging his face and chest. I have so many mixed feelings about this relationship, and this fic is NOT helping and I don't even mind.

1 hour ago, Dusty15 said:

Eh-TSGH! Nhh-heh—eh-TGSGHH!

He pauses, looking up through watery eyes as the door opens. Davos has his hands full and Missandei is not far behind. Beyond them, he sees Dany watching silently. Their eyes meet for a moment before Jon is forced to blink with the onslaught of another sneeze.

Eh-TSCHITTT!

This part is so hot to me for some reason... I'm just picturing the desperate expression in his eyes as their gaze meets for a second and then he has to turn away to sneeeeze, it's just too much. I think that concept is the best part of this story: you can picture it all so well and in such great detail!

 

I could definitely drop 1000 quotes as my favorites and probably praise this until the comment is 2 pages long, but I'll just leave this last one:

1 hour ago, Dusty15 said:

“I'm going to be the most blessed man in Westeros,” Jon quips softly and he feels his heart swell at her resulting smile.

Headed back to read it 8 more times...

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Oh my.... :drool:

This was absolutely perfect. I’ve had a huge thing for Jon Snow literally since the start of the show, and I’ve always thought that there was a significant lack of material for him on here, especially since he’s absolutely gorgeous and spends most  of his time in freezing temperatures which really lends him to being caught in some lovely scenarios. Specifically scenarios like this one.:heart:

By the way, Dusty your spellings are honestly magic, it’s legitimately hard to describe how much I adore them.

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You DID it, girl! :clapping: When you first mentioned to me that you were interested in writing a Jon fic I knew you wouldn't disappoint. And you honestly haven't! Everything about this was so, soooo good. The pacing, the dialogue, and the descriptions of illness were hella on point. :thumbsup:  Ughhh, Jon with a bad cold is everything I needed??? With his sad puppy eyes, and his blossoming crush on Dany. :wub:  Bless 'im. 

4 hours ago, Dusty15 said:

“I'll see if we can heat up enough for a basin, then,” she replies, standing to go.

“Davos can see to getting me washed,” Jon says, feeling himself blush. The heat in his face is a strange sensation.

Dany smiles at him and lets a small laugh escape.

“Rest,” she commands. “I'll send one back with him.”

NOOOOO WHY IS HE SO CUTE :yay: 

5 hours ago, Dusty15 said:

The sea air is crisp and biting compared to his airless room and his lungs seize up for a moment, making him cough. He grasps at the ship's rail and bends over, chest convulsing. With a gasp, he recovers and leans heavily against the rolling side of the ship, looking out at the choppy waters.

My SON. Who let him out of his room??! Buhhh, the imagery here is delicious though. Another one of those things I didn't know I needed until you captured it perfectly.

 

So happy you wrote and posted it!! :D Hope this won't be the last Jon Snow fic from you~ ;) 

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Godddssss you made him sound sooo roughed up and it was beautiful. :wub: I love all these old school aides and remedies (hot water bottle!). And that brief moment between Jon and Dany, and while he's in the middle of sneezing, no less. :wub::wub: I love that she has to nudge him off to bed because he just had to get up and go wandering around.

Quote

I'm going to be the most blessed man in Westeros,” Jon quips softly and he feels his heart swell at her resulting smile.

😍!!!!

Holy shit the hot water sleep bath was the sweetest most intimate thing I've ever read?? This whole thing was pure beauty.

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You all know how to make a girl blush ;) 

Thank you all so much for your amazing comments. I'm so glad so many of you share my angst that Jon (and GoT in general) is pretty much absent from the Forum. I'm hoping to remedy that a little more soon :)

9 hours ago, Oolia said:

 And the idea that Daenerys runs hotter than normal and can use her hands to do a soothing sinus massage... I mean... that killed me. Such a wonderful idea and so well executed!

I have to give the credit to @Spoo for this, @Oolia! I was waffling a bit about where to go with the story and she was like "what if Dany has unnaturally warm hands?" and I was like YES THANK YOU.

 

9 hours ago, Zwee said:

I have so many mixed feelings about this relationship, and this fic is NOT helping and I don't even mind.

JOIN THE CLUB, @Zwee! JOIN THE CLUB. 

9 hours ago, Zwee said:

I'm just picturing the desperate expression in his eyes as their gaze meets for a second and then he has to turn away to sneeeeze, it's just too much. I think that concept is the best part of this story: you can picture it all so well and in such great detail!

@Zwee *Blush* Thanks! The part where he sees her through the door for a moment is one my my favs too!

 

6 hours ago, VividBubbles! said:

By the way, Dusty your spellings are honestly magic, it’s legitimately hard to describe how much I adore them.

@VividBubbles! Haha thanks! I feel like I use the same spellings for everything, just altered a bit, but I'm fond of them ;) 

 

5 hours ago, Spoo said:

With his sad puppy eyes, and his blossoming crush on Dan

@Spoo He's the ultimate sad puppy. I mean, he naturally looks miserable all the damn time! Thank you for all your amazing help with this one! ;)

 

1 hour ago, AnonyMouse said:

Holy shit the hot water sleep bath was the sweetest most intimate thing I've ever read??

@AnonyMouse I really wanted her to wash his hair but I just couldn't figure out how to make it work on a ship and for her character at this point, so I had to compromise :lol: 

 

 

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YES!!! This is so awesome! I adore the idea of Danny always giving off warmth because of the whole "mother of dragons" thing. Of course her skin is unnaturally warm. 

Oh, and sneezy Jon is just too good. That scene was begging for a sneeze fic and this is just too good for words :drool: 

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Okay, I... don't like Jon Snow (please don't kill me now) but that story was wonderful. Very well-written, very plausible. And the characters are so... in character. (Apart from the 2 main protagonists, I especially liked Davos' behaviour, very much like him.) The idea that Daenerys is "warmer" than everyone else is brilliant - and the scene where she massages Jon's face and sinuses... Wow, that was hot (in every sense of the word). And Jon's sneezes are too good to be true. Thank you, and if you have other ideas for GoT fics, rest assured I'll read them! (Jaime, for instance? :rolleyes:) It's strange, there is not that much GoT stuff on the forum.

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  • 2 weeks later...
  • 3 weeks later...

Thank you for writing this! It seems like most fanfic on here is Sherlock or SPN (not that those are bad by any means!) so it's nice to see some GoT, and I especially love Jon! I'd love to run my fingers through his dark curls. Gaaah! :wub: So yeah... if you've got any more, here's another fan who's following you now!

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