Underestimation (M, GoT, Jon Snow)––Secret Santa for VividBubbles!

[Watercolor Daydreams]

MERRY CHRISTMAS, VIVIDBUBBLES!

So, obviously, as you’ve guessed now, I’m your Secret Santa this year. I wrote you a fic about Jon Snow from GoT––it takes place somewhere towards the beginning of Season 1, shortly after Jon has taken his oath to the Night’s Watch. Hope you like it.

Underestimation (M, Jon Snow) –– Secret Santa for VividBubbles!

Jon Snow had experienced cold before, but nothing quite as frigid as the weather on the Wall. Having lived in Winterfell with the Starks, Jon was well aware of how chilly the North could get. Since he’d begun living there as a child, he’d had to grow accustomed to frequent snowfall, even during the long summers, and nippy northern winds.

But Jon had vastly underestimated the Wall’s climate. Riding up with Uncle Benjen, he’d assumed the weather would be the same as––if not slightly cooler than––Winterfell. But from the minute he’d arrived and seen the snow falling, he realized that his engagement at the Wall would be far from comfortable.

Even now, indoors by the fire in the dining hall, Jon couldn’t help but shiver as he scrubbed tables with his Watch partner, Sam. He sniffled, feeling a small tickle etching itself in his sinuses, before turning to the side and releasing a barely contained sneeze into his shoulder.

“Eh-tshhuh!” He sniffled again, continuing with his task.

“Gods blessings,” said Sam, almost automatically, raising his head from the table and looking concernedly at Jon. “You all right, Jon?”

“M’fine,” he mumbled, still sniffling. He wished he had a handkerchief.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” said Jon, now irritated at his friend’s preoccupation with his health. He coughed harshly, wincing at the sudden twinge of pain that resulted in his throat. He wasn’t sick––he couldn’t be sick. He was a man of the Night’s Watch now. He couldn’t go around showing signs of weakness in front of the other Watchers––not even Sam.

The dinner bell rang, announcing the end of Jon and Sam’s shift. As the other watchers began filing into the dining hall, the two boys put away their brushes and lined up to get food.

“How was your date with Piggy, Snow?” asked Rast, coming up from behind them. The surrounding boys chortled. Jon ignored them, taking his dinner and going to sit down at an empty table. Sam followed him and sat opposite him.

“Can you believe the nerve of them?” asked Sam, trying to lighten the mood. Jon grumbled in reply.

As Sam launched into a tiresome tirade––probably about something he’d read in a book somewhere––Jon felt it again. That irritating, loathsome, tickling feeling in his nasal cavity. As inconspicuously as he could, and without taking his eyes off of Sam’s, Jon raised his hand and rubbed at his nose in a futile attempt to quell the feeling. To his dismay, he found himself only aggravating the situation. As the tickling intensified, he resorted to harsher methods. Now barely paying attention to Sam, he firmly pressed his fist to his nose, trying hard to stop the sensation. As his breath hitched, he realized he’d lost the battle.

“Hngkt!” He tried stifling into his gloved hand, sniffling and keeping his fist raised as he felt another sneeze coming on.

“HGNXt!” he stifled again, this time a little more forcefully.

“Jon?” Jon heard Sam’s concerned attempt to interject.

But Jon was a little too preoccupied to answer him. He turned his head to the side and let out a third and final,

“HRUSHH!”

It was loud––loud enough to attract everyone else’s attention, as the Watchers in the dining hall all turned their heads in his direction. Jon’s face burned a brilliant scarlet––he must’ve been the color of the Lannister banner. The din soon returned, and Jon rubbed his nose, sniffling a final time to make sure the tickle was gone.

“You sure you’re all right?” asked Sam as Jon rested his now-throbbing head on his elbows, fingers pressing against his temples.

“I’m fine.” He sniffled harshly, the slightest bit of the tickle stuck in his nose, but not quite strong enough to trigger a sneeze. “It’s just a bit dusty in here or somethin’.” He tried smiling to reinforce his statement, but it evidently didn’t convince Sam, who looked at him dubiously.

“You should go see the Healer. Maybe he can fix somethin’ up for you.”

“Mhh.” Jon raised his cup of broth to his lips. He suddenly regretted doing so––the steam slipped up from the bowl and through his nostrils, teasing his nose even more, bringing out the last of the tickle.

“Heh...heh-GNXt!” He stifled as best he could, head bobbing downwards in a short, dry motion. The stifle had done little to alleviate the sensation, as his head bobbed down again with another,

“Heh-gtsht!” This one was harder to hold back, the tail end of it exploding with semi-restrained wetness. He sniffled rather pathetically and tried not to look at Sam.

“Bloody hells, Jon,” said Sam, almost laughing. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone sneeze that much in a few minutes.” Jon flushed, rubbing hard at his nose and getting rid of the last of the tickle.

“Sorry, Sam,” he mumbled, clearing his throat.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault you’re sick.”

Jon suddenly raised his head and said harshly, more out of embarrassment than anything else,

“I’m not sick. It’s just...just the cold weather.” He shivered again, as if to prove his point. “I’ll be better in the morning, after a good night’s rest.”

*****

But the next morning, Jon realized that he had underestimated––like many other things at the Wall––the severity of his cold.

As he dressed and walked out to the courtyard, his throat felt even worse than the day before, and there was a constant pounding in his head and his sinuses. To top it all off, his nose was somehow simultaneously stuffed up and running. At least he’d remembered to bring a handkerchief this time.

He found Sam among the other new recruits, who were standing in a circle. Jon realized with horrible embarrassment that he was late.

“Kind of you to join us, Snow,” said Allister Thorne edgily. Jon nodded as an apology, his throat too sore to utter any sound. He took his place beside Sam, who, he noticed, was looking at him worriedly.

“Hrrmpph!” The sneeze came too suddenly and strongly for Jon to try to stifle it, and he muffled the sound into his elbow as best he could, sniffling as he came back up.

“Blessings,” murmured Sam. He knew Jon was embarrassed about being sick and tried as best he could to keep his response inaudible to the other Watchers. Unfortunately, a few of them had noticed, and were looking at Jon and snickering. Jon blushed, looking away. If he could, he’d beat them all with his sword––but with Allister Thorne standing between them, and the dull aching in his bones, he knew that wasn’t a possibility.

“Snow!” called Thorne. Jon stood up as straight as he could.

“Demonstrate,” he motioned towards the center of the circle.

As the gods would have it, Jon hadn’t a clue as to what Thorne wanted him to demonstrate, having not paid attention.

“I’m sorry, Ser. I...wasn’t paying attention.” His voiced died down as he finished the sentence, sending the other boys into peels of laughter. Jon gritted his teeth, feeling another tickle creeping up on him.

“Course you weren’t,” said Thorne. “Too preoccupied, thinking about your own talent at the sword, were you?”

Jon’s breath was starting to hitch now. He closed his eyes, pressing his fist to his nose.

“Think you’re better than the rest of them, eh? Think you don’t have to listen to instructions?”

“Hh--”

His hitching was more audible, his breathing wavering ticklishly as he felt the itch weave its way through his nose. He couldn’t sneeze now––not with Thorne and the other boys watching.

“Get over here, Snow.” Thorne nodded to the center of the circle again. Jon reluctantly agreed. The tickle had somewhat placated itself now, but he wasn’t about to let his guard down.

“Rast! Get over here. You’ll be duelling Snow.” Rast, grinning, made his way to the center. Jon knew he could sense his weakness––Rast had wanted to beat him at sword fighting since Jon won his first duel with him during training. Well, he’s got a fine opportunity now, thought Jon.

“Begin!” called out Thorne.

As they were dueling, Jon found it surprisingly easier than he thought to battle Rast. Even at his worst, Jon’s swordsmanship was ten times better than Rast’s. Then Jon felt the familiar burning sensation return. With both of his hands occupied, he couldn’t rub the offending appendage. Determined not to let it overwhelm him, he fought against it, continuing to block Rast’s swings. The sensation was increasingly gaining on him, though, and he soon stopped altogether, finding that he couldn’t hold it back anymore. He dropped to his knees, panting, his sword clattering to the ground.

“Hgnxht! Heh-GXTSH! Heh... Hrngxt! HNRSHH!” Unable to stifle the last one, he let it explode, too tired to attempt to cover it up. Sniffling and still panting, he slowly rose, only to be harshly rammed in the chest by Rast’s shoulder. Rast held the tip of his sword to Jon’s face.

“All right, all right! That’s enough!” called out Thorne. Rast backed away, a look of triumphant disgust on his face.

“Snow. Infirmary, now,” said Thorne, more out of duty and a sense of obligation than genuine concern. “Can’t have you infectin’ the rest of the Night’s Watch.”

Sam rushed over to help Jon up.

“C’mon. I’ll bring you.” Under normal circumstances, Jon would’ve protested, but he was so weak that he succumbed to Sam’s help.

Jon pressed his weight against Sam as the latter carefully led him towards the Healer’s. He surely had a fever––he was sweating under his fur coat, though chills were running through the rest of his body. His chest, too, felt swollen and heavy, and he found it suddenly painful to breathe.

“Don’t worry, Jon,” said Sam gently. “You’ll be all right. ‘S no big deal to get sick every now and then. Your oath doesn’t make you swear to feel perfect all the time.”

Jon sighed, staring up at the sky as more snow began to fall. Next time, he’d have to be wary not to underestimate his immune system’s weaknesses.

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Sorry for the cheesy last line––I'm bad at endings. But that set aside, hope you liked it!! And again, happy holidays.

Edited December 24, 2015 by Watercolor Daydreams

[Grasper]

Agh this is so lovely! Gotta love some sneezy Jon Snow

[VividBubbles!]

EEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!! <The actual noise I made when I saw this.

OKAY, SO FIRST OF ALL THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!!! This was absolutely amazing and I can't express with words how grateful I am for this SS gift.

ALRIGHT, NOW LETS GET INTO ALL THE THINGS ABOUT THIS THAT I COMPLETELY ADORE.

1. I'm melting. Ohmygods, the cuteness is just overwhelming. I can't get over how adorable Jon's embarrassment is. :heart:

2. Sam is so concerned for Jon! AAAAWWWWWWWWW!!!

3. Everything is exactly how I would imagine this scenario going! You wrote the character's interactions precisely how I think they would interact in this situation. Wonderful job!

4. Your writing in general is glorious, and your descriptions are great!

Again, thank you so much for my SS gift! It's absolutely marvelous!

Edited December 24, 2015 by VividBubbles!

[Watercolor Daydreams]

So glad you liked it!

[TouchOfGrey]

I am so happy right now Been hoping for a new GoT fic!!! It's a tragedy there only seems to be like ten in existence. Thanks so much for sharing!

Edited December 28, 2015 by TouchOfGrey

[Dusty15]

Guh I love Jon Snow and he's so prime for H/C or sickfic or anything illness related! I'm surprised that he doesn't pop up on the Forum more often! Thanks for sharing

[Bruyere]

This was great! I love the combination of much colder weather than expected = getting sick.

“Heh-gtsht!” This one was harder to hold back, the tail end of it exploding with semi-restrained wetness. He sniffled rather pathetically and tried not to look at Sam.

I really liked this description.

Jon pressed his weight against Sam as the latter carefully led him towards the Healer’s. He surely had a fever––he was sweating under his fur coat, though chills were running through the rest of his body. His chest, too, felt swollen and heavy, and he found it suddenly painful to breathe.

Aww, poor Jon.