SAY YOU REMEMBER ME (JONERYS AU)

SAY YOU REMEMBER ME ❆ (JONERYS AU)

Instead of stopping in the Dothraki Sea, Drogon carries an injured Dany far, far away from the chaos of the fighting pits, across the Narrow Sea and into the path of a certain, brooding Lord Commander.

Happy birthday, my dearest @mhysaofdragons!

I understand being surprised by George’s narrative bob and weave. It’s the reason this is one of my favorite fight scenes. 🗡️

Some point to it to say Jon has really grown as a fighter. But Mance beats him bloody later, so as great as it is, I don’t think that’s the point.

It’s more of a character moment, after which he wonders why he’s so angry.

I wanted it and I still want it.

Jon Snow is such a good person that he hated himself for dishonoring Robb in life and in death by coveting his birthright.

We could stand to learn something from him.

In the end Halder and Horse had to pull him away from Iron Emmett, one man on either arm. The ranger sat on the ground dazed, his shield half in splinters, the visor of his helm knocked askew, and his sword six yards away. "Jon, enough," Halder was shouting, "he's down, you disarmed him. Enough!" Jon page 1088

Jon has a flashback of a memory of growing up in Winterfell while sparring. Because of this, he has to be pulled away from his opponent.

This picture was another example of why you can't afford to scan through the quiet pits. I had originally picked the sentence right before this. Which was exclusively the flashback. I hadn't been looking forward to doing it because I'd already drawn Jon sparring in his last chapter. At the same time, because I was just doing a quick scan I caught myself mixing him thinking about Catelyn from two pages later with this scene.

I had a great idea for her to be standing in the foreground reacting to the "I'm the lord of Winterfell" line as much as Robb did. It came as quite a surprise when Mr. Martin immediately flashes back to Jon going postal on Iron Emmett.

Fortunately, this challenge is only limited to choosing the chapter so it was easy to move to that scene.

"You are he who must stand against the Other. The one whose coming was prophesied five thousand years ago. The red comet was your herald. You are the prince that was promised, and if you fail the world fails with you."

—Melisandre, to Stannis Baratheon. A Storm of Swords, Chapter 63, Davos VI.

I don't care why you're covered in blood, why the bombs go out, and why they don't come back. This isn't my city. Those aren't my people. This isn't everything! You don't get to choose for the world! You don't get to choose for me. My wife is my choice. My daughter, my life is my choice. You think I went what I went through, did what I did to let anyone choose anything for me?

RICK GRIMES The Walking Dead: The Ones Who Live — 1.01 "Years"

The largest structure ever built by the hands of man, Benjen Stark had told Jon on the kingsroad when they had first caught sight of the Wall in the distance. “And beyond a doubt the most useless,” Tyrion Lannister had added with a grin, but even the Imp grew silent as they rode closer. You could see it from miles off, a pale blue line across the northern horizon, stretching away to the east and west and vanishing in the far distance, immense and unbroken. This is the end of the world, it seemed to say.

When they finally spied Castle Black, its timbered keeps and stone towers looked like nothing more than a handful of toy blocks scattered on the snow, beneath the vast wall of ice. The ancient stronghold of the black brothers was no Winterfell, no true castle at all. Lacking walls, it could not be defended, not from the south, or east, or west; but it was only the north that concerned the Night’s Watch, and to the north loomed the Wall. Almost seven hundred feet high it stood, three times the height of the tallest tower in the stronghold it sheltered. His uncle said the top was wide enough for a dozen armored knights to ride abreast. The gaunt outlines of huge catapults and monstrous wooden cranes stood sentry up there, like the skeletons of great birds, and among them walked men in black as small as ants.

And yet I love this quiet clouded day. I love this settled stillness, and this feeling that, at any moment, down may come the rain. Should you say wasted? No, not really. Something is gathered. This quiet time brings one nearer.

Katherine Mansfield, from The Journal of Katherine Mansfield (1914-1922)