When a man of the Night's Watch stands before the Black Gate he is asked a question,
The door opened its eyes.
They were white too, and blind. “Who are you?” the door asked, and the well whispered, “Whowho-who-who-who-who-who.”
“I am the sword in the darkness,” Samwell Tarly said. “I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers. I am the shield that guards the realms of men.”
“Then pass,” the door said.
"Who are you?" The Black Gate asks when a man of the Night's Watch wishes to pass beyond the wall.
At the House of Black and White, Arya is often asked the same question,
"Who are you?" plague face asked when they were alone.
"No one."
The answer to this question may be different for A servant of the Many Faced God and A brother of the Night's Watch but in essence they are the same.
When Jon Snow asks to serve in the Night's Watch, he is told that he doesn't know the cost,
"I forget nothing," Jon boasted. The wine was making him bold. He tried to sit very straight, to make himself seem taller. "I want to serve in the Night's Watch, Uncle."
He had thought on it long and hard, lying abed at night while his brothers slept around him. Robb would someday inherit Winterfell, would command great armies as the Warden of the North. Bran and Rickon would be Robb's bannermen and rule holdfasts in his name. His sisters Arya and Sansa would marry the heirs of other great houses and go south as mistress of castles of their own. But what place could a bastard hope to earn?
“You don’t know what you’re asking, Jon. The Night’s Watch is a sworn brotherhood. We have no families. None of us will ever father sons. Our wife is duty. Our mistress is honor.”
“A bastard can have honor too,” Jon said. “I am ready to swear your oath.”
“You are a boy of fourteen,” Benjen said. “Not a man, not yet. Until you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up.”
“I don’t care about that!” Jon said hotly.
“You might, if you knew what it meant,” Benjen said. “If you knew what the oath would cost
you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son.” AGOT Jon I
When Arya wishes to serve in the House of Black and White she is told of the price,
“Valar dohaeris.” All men must serve.
“You know the words, but you are too proud to serve. A servant must be humble and
obedient.”
“I obey. I can be humbler than anyone.”
That made him chuckle. “You will be the very goddess of humility, I am sure. But can
you pay the price?” ADWD The Ugly Little Girl
The price of service in both the Night's Watch and the House of Black and White are very similar.
To serve, both orders require giving up everything you once were.
"At evenfall, as the sun sets and we face the gathering night, you shall take your vows. From that moment, you will be a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch. Your crimes will be washed away, your debts forgiven. So too you must wash away your former loyalties, put aside your grudges, forget old wrongs and old loves alike. Here you begin anew. A Game of Thrones - Jon VI
and become no one,
“You need to rid yourself of all this,” he said of her treasures.
Arya felt stricken. “They’re mine.”
“And who are you?”
“No one.”
He picked up her silver fork. “This belongs to Arya of House Stark. All these things belong to her. There is no place for them here. There is no place for her. Hers is too proud a name, and we have no room for pride. We are servants here.” AFFC Arya II
Everything you hoped to achieve in life is given up in service to the order you serve,
. "They will garb your brother Robb in silks, satins, and velvets of a hundred different colors, while you live and die in black ringmail. He will wed some beautiful princess and father sons on her. You'll have no wife, nor will you ever hold a child of your own blood in your arms. Robb will rule, you will serve. Men will call you a crow. Him they'll call Your Grace. Singers will praise every little thing he does, while your greatest deeds all go unsung. Tell me that none of this troubles you, Jon . . . and I'll name you a liar, and know I have the truth of it." ACOK Jon I
All the potential of your life is theirs,
The waif showed ten fingers. Then ten again, and yet again. Then six. Her face remained as smooth as still water. She can't be six-and-thirty, Arya thought. She's a little girl. "You're lying," she said. The waif shook her head and showed her once again: ten and ten and ten and six. She said the words for six-and-thirty, and made Arya say them too.
The next day she told the kindly man what the waif had claimed. "She did not lie," the priest said, chuckling. "The one you call waif is a woman grown who has spent her life serving Him of Many Faces. She gave Him all she was, all she ever might have been, all the lives that were within her." AFFC Arya II
Jon says he can pay that price,
Jon drew himself up, taut as a bowstring. "And if it did trouble me, what might I do, bastard as I am?"
"What will you do?" Mormont asked. "Bastard as you are?"
"Be troubled," said Jon, "and keep my vows." ACOK Jon I
and so does Arya,
“What price?”
“The price is you. The price is all you have and all you ever hope to have. We took your
eyes and gave them back. Next we will take your ears, and you will walk in silence. You
will give us your legs and crawl. You will be no one’s daughter, no one’s wife, no one’s
mother. Your name will be a lie, and the very face you wear will not be your own.”
She almost bit her lip again, but this time she caught herself and stopped. My face is a
dark pool, hiding everything, showing nothing. She thought of all the names that she had worn: Arry, Weasel, Squab, Cat of the Canals. She thought of that stupid girl from Winterfell
called Arya Horseface. Names did not matter. “I can pay the price. Give me a face.” ADWD The Ugly Little Girl
Jon wants to become a Ranger,
Three days after their arrival, Jon had heard that Benjen Stark was to lead a half-dozen men on a ranging into the haunted forest. That night he sought out his uncle in the great timbered common hall and pleaded to go with him. Benjen refused him curtly. "This is not Winterfell," he told him as he cut his meat with fork and dagger. "On the Wall, a man gets only what he earns. You're no ranger, Jon, only a green boy with the smell of summer still on you." A Game of Thrones - Jon III
Arya wants a face,
She almost bit her lip again, but this time she caught herself and stopped. My face is a dark pool, hiding everything, showing nothing. She thought of all the names that she had worn: Arry, Weasel, Squab, Cat of the Canals. She thought of that stupid girl from Winterfell called Arya Horseface. Names did not matter. "I can pay the price. Give me a face."
"Faces must be earned." ADWD The Ugly Little Girl
Both have to be earned
Jon and Arya are pledged to their Orders. Both of them SAY they are faithful servants, but...
"... It's like Mance said. Deeds is truer than words." ASOS Jon II
The "Deeds" in which both Jon and Arya prove the truth of their words are very similar. If you look closely.
Both start with a gathering,
Jon's begins on the Fist of the First men with the arrival of Qhorin Halfhand and the men from the Shadow Tower in A Clash of Kings Jon V
At the ringwall, he found the guards sliding spikes from the half-frozen earth to make an opening. It was not long until the first of the brothers from the Shadow Tower began wending their way up the slope. All in leather and fur they were, with here and there a bit of steel or bronze; heavy beards covered hard lean faces, and made them look as shaggy as their garrons. Jon was surprised to see some of them were riding two to a horse. When he looked more closely, it was plain that many of them were wounded. There has been trouble on the way.
Jon knew Qhorin Halfhand the instant he saw him, though they had never met. The big ranger was half a legend in the Watch; a man of slow words and swift action, tall and straight as a spear, long-limbed and solemn. Unlike his men, he was clean-shaven. His hair fell from beneath his helm in a heavy braid touched with hoarfrost, and the blacks he wore were so faded they might have been greys. Only thumb and forefinger remained on the hand that held the reins; the other fingers had been sheared off catching a wildling's axe that would otherwise have split his skull. It was told that he had thrust his maimed fist into the face of the axeman so the blood spurted into his eyes, and slew him while he was blind. Since that day, the wildlings beyond the Wall had known no foe more implacable.
Arya's begins in the temple beneath the House of Black and White in A Dance With Dragons The Ugly Little Girl,
Eleven servants of the Many-Faced God gathered that night beneath the temple, more than she had ever seen together at one time. Only the lordling and the fat fellow arrived by the front door; the rest came by secret ways, through tunnels and hidden passages. They wore their robes of black and white, but as they took their seats each man pulled his cowl down to show the face he had chosen to wear that day.
Both are serving as stewards/cupbearers at these meetings and both hear what is being discussed.
Jon,
“Best talk of this inside. Jon will fetch you a horn of ale. Or would you prefer hot spiced
wine?”
“Boiled water will suffice. An egg and a bite of bacon.”
“As you wish.” Mormont lifted the flap of the tent and Qhorin Halfhand stooped and stepped
through.
Arya,
One of the other acolytes stood across the room with a flagon of dark red wine. She had
the water.
They both have a little trouble hearing some of the conversation
A noisy raven and quiet tones hinder Jon,
Restless, Jon squatted by the fire and poked at it with a stick. He could hear the Old Bear ’s
voice inside the tent, punctuated by the raven’s squawks and Qhorin Halfhand’s quieter tones, but he could not make out the words. Alfyn Crowkiller dead, that’s good . He was one of the bloodiest of the wildling raiders, taking his name from the black brothers he’d slain. So why does Qhorin sound so grave, after such a victory?
Arya is hindered by soft voices,
The priests used the language of Braavos, though once for several minutes three spoke
heatedly in High Valyrian. The girl understood the words, mostly, but they spoke in soft
voices, and she could not always hear. “I know this man,” she did hear a priest with the
face of a plague victim say. “I know this man,” the fat fellow echoed, as she was pouring
for him. But the handsome man said, “I will give this man the gift, I know him not.” Later
the squinter said the same thing, of someone else.
When agreement has been reached, Jon is asked to serve,
“Belike we shall all die, then. Our dying will buy time for our brothers on the Wall. Time to
garrison the empty castles and freeze shut the gates, time to summon lords and kings to their aid, time to hone their axes and repair their catapults. Our lives will be coin well spent.”
“Die,” the raven muttered, pacing along Mormont’s shoulders. “Die, die, die, die.” The old Bear sat slumped and silent, as if the burden of speech had grown too heavy for him to bear. But at last he said, “May the gods forgive me. Choose your men.”
Qhorin Halfhand turned his head. His eyes met Jon’s, and held them for a long moment. “Very well. I choose Jon Snow.”
and so is Arya,
“Our brother would have words with you, child,” the kindly man told her. “Sit, if you wish.” She seated herself in a weirwood chair with a face of ebony. Bloody sores held no terror for her. She had been too long in the House of Black and White to be afraid of a false face.
“Valar dohaeris.” All men must serve.
“You know the words, but you are too proud to serve. A servant must be humble and
obedient.”
“I obey. I can be humbler than anyone.”
That made him chuckle. “You will be the very goddess of humility, I am sure. But can
you pay the price?”
“What price?”
“The price is you. The price is all you have and all you ever hope to have. We took your
eyes and gave them back. Next we will take your ears, and you will walk in silence. You
will give us your legs and crawl. You will be no one’s daughter, no one’s wife, no one’s
mother. Your name will be a lie, and the very face you wear will not be your own.”
She almost bit her lip again, but this time she caught herself and stopped. My face is a
dark pool, hiding everything, showing nothing. She thought of all the names that she had worn: Arry, Weasel, Squab, Cat of the Canals. She thought of that stupid girl from Winterfell
called Arya Horseface. Names did not matter. “I can pay the price. Give me a face.”
“Faces must be earned.”
“Tell me how.”
“Give a certain man a certain gift. Can you do that?”
Jon agrees,
Mormont blinked. “He is hardly more than a boy. And my steward besides. Not even a ranger.” “Tollett can care for you as well, my lord.” Qhorin lifted his maimed, two-fingered hand. “The old gods are still strong beyond the Wall. The gods of the First Men… and the Starks.”
Mormont looked at Jon. “What is your will in this?”
“To go,” he said at once.
The old man smiled sadly. “I thought it might be.”
so does Arya
“What man?”
“No one that you know.”
“I don’t know a lot of people.”
“He is one of them. A stranger. No one you love, no one you hate, no one you have ever
known. Will you kill him?”
“Yes.”
The following morning both set out to serve their Orders,
Jon sets out with Qhorin to find out what Mance is up to,
Dawn had broken when Jon stepped from the tent beside Qhorin Halfhand. The wind swirled around them, stirring their black cloaks and sending a scatter of red cinders flying from the fire.
“We ride at noon,” the ranger told him. “Best find that wolf of yours.”
Arya returns to Brusco to begin watching the Man at the soup shop,
“Then on the morrow, you shall be Cat of the Canals again. Wear that face, watch,
obey. And we will see if you are truly worthy to serve Him of Many Faces.”
So the next day she returned to Brusco and his daughters in the house on the canal.
Brusco’s eyes widened when he saw her, and Brea gave a little gasp. “Valar morghulis,” Cat
said, by way of greeting. “Valar dohaeris,” Brusco replied.
In A Clash of Kings Jon VIII, when only Jon and Qhorin are left and are being pursued by the wildlings, it looks like the end.
The flames were burning low by then, the warmth fading. “The fire will soon go out,” Qhorin
said, “but if the Wall should ever fall, all the fires will go out.”
There was nothing Jon could say to that. He nodded.
“We may escape them yet,” the ranger said. “Or not.”
Jon is willing to die. He may be scared but he is willing to die for the Night's Watch,
“I’m not afraid to die.” It was only half a lie.
“It may not be so easy as that, Jon.”
But that isn't what is required of him.
He did not understand. “What do you mean?”
“If we are taken, you must yield.”
Arya is willing to kill anyone to get to the man in the soup shop,
“The guards go with him even when he slips out to make water,” she said, “but he
doesn’t go when they do. The tall one is the quicker. I’ll wait till he is making water, walk
into the soup shop, and stab the old man through the eye.”
“And the other guard?”
“He’s slow and stupid. I can kill him too.”
but that isn't what is required of her.
“Are you some butcher of the battlefield, hacking down every man who stands in your
way?”
“No.”
When Qhorin tells Jon what he must do Jon realizes that this is the price that must be payed to be a man of the Night's Watch. This is what the oath he has sworn means.
“Yield?” He blinked in disbelief. The wildlings did not make captives of the men they called
the crows. They killed them, except for…“They only spare oathbreakers. Those who join them,
like Mance Rayder.”
“And you.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Never. I won’t.”
“You will. I command it of you.”
“Command it? But…”
“Our honor means no more than our lives, so long as the realm is safe. Are you a man of the
Night’s Watch?”
“Yes, but—”
“There is no but, Jon Snow. You are, or you are not.”
Jon sat up straight. “I am.”
Arya also realises what it means to serve the God of Many Faces.
“I would hope not. You are a servant of the Many-Faced God, and we who serve Him of
Many Faces give his gift only to those who have been marked and chosen.”
She understood. Kill him. Kill only him.
To serve, both Jon and Arya will have to become someone they are not. Jon will have to yield and turn his cloak
“Then hear me. If we are taken, you will go over to them, as the wildling girl you captured
once urged you. They may demand that you cut your cloak to ribbons, that you swear them an oath on your father ’s grave, that you curse your brothers and your Lord Commander. You must not balk, whatever is asked of you. Do as they bid you… but in your heart, remember who and what you are. Ride with them, eat with them, fight with them, for as long as it takes. And watch.”
“For what?” Jon asked.
“Would that I knew,” said Qhorin. “Your wolf saw their diggings in the valley of the
Milkwater. What did they seek, in such a bleak and distant place? Did they find it? That is what you must learn, before you return to Lord Mormont and your brothers. That is the duty I lay on you, Jon Snow.”
“I’ll do as you say,” Jon said reluctantly, “but… you will tell them, won’t you? The Old Bear, at least? You’ll tell him that I never broke my oath.”
Arya will have to become the Ugly Little Girl,
“Him of Many Faces will be pleased.” The kindly man rose. “Cat of the Canals is known
to many. If she is seen to have done this deed, it might bring down trouble on Brusco and
his daughters. It is time you had another face.”
The "journey" to these new identities for The Crow Come Over and The Ugly Little Girl are very similar....
....if you look closely
Jon travels through the mountain....
The farther in they went, the closer the cliffs pressed to either side. They followed the moonlit ribbon of stream back toward its source. Icicles bearded its stony banks, but Jon could still hear the sound of rushing water beneath the thin hard crust.
A great jumble of fallen rock blocked their way partway up, where a section of the cliff face
had fallen, but the surefooted little garrons were able to pick their way through. Beyond, the walls pinched in sharply, and the stream led them to the foot of a tall twisting waterfall.
....Arya travels to the lower levels beneath the House of Black and White,
With every step the air seemed to grow a little colder. When her count reached thirty she knew that they were under even the canals. Three-and-thirty four-and-thirty. How deep were they going to go?
She had reached fifty-four when the steps finally ended at another iron door. This one was unlocked. The kindly man pushed it open and stepped through. She followed, with the waif on her heels. Their footsteps echoed through the darkness. The kindly man lifted his lantern and flicked its shutters wide open. Light washed over the walls around them.
A thousand faces were gazing down on her.
When Arya dons her new face, blood flows down her own face in a "red curtain",
The cut was quick, the blade sharp. By rights the metal should have been cold against her flesh, but it felt warm instead. She could feel the blood washing down her face, a rippling red curtain falling across her brow and cheeks and chin, and she understood why the priest had made her close her eyes.
John also passes through a "curtain",
“Quickly now,” the Halfhand commanded. The big man on the small horse rode over the iceslick stones, right into the curtain of water, and vanished. When he did not reappear, Jon put his heels into his horse and went after.
His garron did his best to shy away. The falling water slapped at them with frozen fists, and the shock of the cold seemed to stop Jon’s breath. Then he was through; drenched and shivering, but through.
The experience of this "curtain" causes Jon to shiver and lose his breath.
Arya has a similar experience,
When it reached her lips the taste was salt and copper. She licked at it and shivered....
....She could feel her heart fluttering beneath her breast, and for one long moment she could not catch her breath. Hands closed around her throat, hard as stone, choking her.
After donning the face of the Ugly Little Girl, Arya suffers nightmares,
Sleep did not come easily that night. Tangled in her blankets, she twisted this way and
that in the cold dark room, but whichever way she turned, she saw the faces. They have no
eyes, but they can see me. She saw her father’s face upon the wall. Beside him hung her lady mother, and below them her three brothers all in a row. No. That was some other girl. I am no one, and my only brothers wear robes of black and white. Yet there was the black singer, there the stableboy she’d killed with Needle, there the pimply squire from the crossroads inn, and over there the guard whose throat she’d slashed to get them out of Harrenhal.
The Tickler hung on the wall as well, the black holes that were his eyes swimming with
malice. The sight of him brought back the feel of the dagger in her hand as she had
plunged it into his back, again and again and again.
Jon has the same problem
Sleep came at last, and with it nightmares. He dreamed of burning castles and dead men rising unquiet from their graves. It was still dark when Qhorin woke him. While the Halfhand slept, Jon sat with his back to the cave wall, listening to the water and waiting for the dawn.
The next day Jon and Qhorin set out to make their stand,
“Here is as good a place as any to make a stand,” he declared. “The mouth of the cave shelters us from above, and they cannot get behind us without passing through the mountain. Is your sword sharp, Jon Snow?”
“Yes,” he said.
“We’ll feed the horses. They’ve served us bravely, poor beasts.”
Jon gave his garron the last of the oats and stroked his shaggy mane while Ghost prowled
restlessly amongst the rocks. He pulled his gloves on tighter and flexed his burnt fingers. I am the shield that guards the realms of men.
A hunting horn echoed through the mountains, and a moment later Jon heard the baying of
hounds. “They will be with us soon,” announced Qhorin. “Keep your wolf in hand.”
Arya settles in to watch her target,
By the time she reached the Purple Harbor, the old man was ensconced inside the soup
shop at his usual table, counting a purse of coins as he haggled with a ship’s captain. The
tall thin guard was hovering over him. The short thick one was seated near the door,
where he would have a good view of anyone who entered. That made no matter. She did
not intend to enter. Instead she perched atop a wooden piling twenty yards away as the
blustery wind tugged at her cloak with ghostly fingers.
At the moment when Rattleshirt and his wildings catch up with Jon and Qhorin......
The wildlings came boiling over a ridge not half a mile away. Their hounds ran before them,
snarling grey-brown beasts with more than a little wolf in their blood. Ghost bared his teeth, his fur bristling. “Easy,” Jon murmured. “Stay.” Overhead he heard a rustle of wings. The eagle landed on an outcrop of rock and screamed in triumph.
.....and the shipowner walks past the Ugly Little Girl.....
It was almost noon before she saw the man she wanted, a prosperous shipowner she
had seen doing business with the old man three times before. Big and bald and burly, he
wore a heavy cloak of plush brown velvet trimmed with fur and a brown leather belt
ornamented with silver moons and stars. Some mishap had left one leg stiff. He walked
slowly, leaning on a cane.
....both plans are set in motion. And if you look closely, both plans are very similar.
“They would shame us into folly.” Qhorin gave Jon a long look. “Remember your orders.”
“Belike we need to flush the crows,” Rattleshirt bellowed over the clamor. “Feather them!”
“No!” The word burst from Jon’s lips before the bowmen could loose. He took two quick steps forward. “We yield!”
Both plans are executed with a sharp blade and a slash that would not be felt,
Arya with her fingerknife,
He would do as well as any and better than most, the ugly girl decided. She hopped off
the piling and fell in after him. A dozen strides put her right behind him, her finger knife
poised. His purse was on his right side, at his belt, but his cloak was in her way. Her
blade flashed out, smooth and quick, one deep slash through the velvet and he never felt
a thing. Red Roggo would have smiled to see it. She slipped her hand through the gap, slit
the purse open with the finger knife, filled her fist with gold … (notice the "red smile" of Roggo in this scene after Arya's 'slash')
Jon with Longclaw,
“I’ll do whatever you ask.” The words came hard, but Jon said them.
Rattleshirt’s bone armor clattered loudly as he laughed. “Then kill the Halfhand, bastard.”
“As if he could,” said Qhorin. “Turn, Snow, and die.”
And then Qhorin’s sword was coming at him and somehow Longclaw leapt upward to block. The force of impact almost knocked the bastard blade from Jon’s hand, and sent him staggering backward. You must not balk, whatever is asked of you. He shifted to a two-hand grip, quick enough to deliver a stroke of his own, but the big ranger brushed it aside with contemptuous ease. Back and forth they went, black cloaks swirling, the youth’s quickness against the savage strength of Qhorin’s left-hand cuts. The Halfhand’s longsword seemed to be everywhere at once, raining down from one side and then the other, driving him where he would, keeping him off balance. Already he could feel his arms growing numb.
Even when Ghost’s teeth closed savagely around the ranger ’s calf, somehow Qhorin kept his feet. But in that instant, as he twisted, the opening was there. Jon planted and pivoted. The ranger was leaning away, and for an instant it seemed that Jon’s slash had not touched him. Then a string of red tears appeared across the big man’s throat, bright as a ruby necklace, and the blood gushed out of him, and Qhorin Halfhand fell.
Ghost’s muzzle was dripping red, but only the point of the bastard blade was stained, the last half inch. Jon pulled the direwolf away and knelt with one arm around him. The light was already fading in Qhorin’s eyes. “…sharp,” he said, lifting his maimed fingers. Then his hand fell, and he was gone. (and notice after Jon's 'slash',Ghosts muzzle dripping red in this scene)
After the fight the wildlings loot Qhorin's corpse,
They burned Qhorin Halfhand where he’d fallen, on a pyre made of pine needles, brush, and
broken branches. Some of the wood was still green, and it burned slow and smoky, sending a black plume up into the bright hard blue of the sky. Afterward Rattleshirt claimed some charred bones, while the others threw dice for the ranger’s gear. Ygritte won his cloak.
They gather up their loot and their newest member and head off to join up with Mance Rayder and the Free folk.
“Will we return by the Skirling Pass?” Jon asked her. He did not know if he could face those heights again, or if his garron could survive a second crossing.
“No,” she said. “There’s nothing behind us.” The look she gave him was sad. “By now Mance is well down the Milkwater, marching on your Wall.”
After Arya escapes she returns to the House of Black and White...
By now the shipowner would have gathered up coins and cane
and limped on to the soup shop. He might be drinking a bowl of hot broth and
complaining to the old man about the ugly girl who had tried to rob his purse.
The kindly man was waiting for her at the House of Black and White, seated on the
edge of the temple pool. The ugly girl sat next to him and put a coin on the lip of the pool
between them.
....and like Rattleshirt and the wildlings when they "acquired" Jon, the ship owner picked up something that wasn't his to begin with,
Arya has given the 'gift' to ONLY the man at the soup shop proving she is worthy to serve Him of Many Faces.
She did this by swapping one coin for poisoned coin with the smooth slash of a sharp blade that the shipowner didn't feel.
She is given new garb, and begins her apprenticeship,
That night they gave her back the face of Arya Stark.
They brought a robe for her as well, the soft thick robe of an acolyte, black upon one
side and white upon the other.
“Wear this when you are here,” the priest said, “but know
that you shall have little need of it for the present. On the morrow you will go to Izembaro
to begin your first apprenticeship. Take what clothes you will from the vaults below. The
city watch is looking for a certain ugly girl, known to frequent the Purple Harbor, so best
you have a new face as well.” He cupped her chin, turned her head this way and that,
nodded. “A pretty one this time, I think. As pretty as your own. Who are you, child?”
“No one,” she replied.
This time when she says she is "no one" nobody calls her a liar.
When Jon reaches the wildling camp he is also given new garb,
Mance Rayder looked at Jon's face for a long moment. "I think we had best find you a new cloak," the king said, holding out his hand. ASOS Jon I
Jon wheeled and followed Tormund back toward the head of the column, his new cloak hanging heavy from his shoulders. It was made of unwashed sheepskins, worn fleece side in, as the wildlings suggested. It kept the snow off well enough, and at night it was good and warm, but he kept his black cloak as well, folded up beneath his saddle. ASOS Jon II
For Qhorin, the cost of being a Man of the Night's Watch was his life, which he gave up willingly so Jon could live and join the wildlings to find out what Mance Rayder was planning.
"We can only die. Why else do we don these black cloaks, but to die in defense of the realm? I would send fifteen men, in three parties of five. One to probe the Milkwater, one the Skirling Pass, one to climb the Giant's Stair. Jarman Buckwell, Thoren Smallwood, and myself to command. To learn what waits in those mountains." ACOK Jon V
He considers the price of his life as "coin well spent".................. I pledge my LIFE and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come."
“Belike we shall all die, then. Our dying will buy time for our brothers on the Wall. Time to
garrison the empty castles and freeze shut the gates, time to summon lords and kings to their aid, time to hone their axes and repair their catapults. Our lives will be coin well spent.” ACOK Jon V
For Jon the cost was his honor. To fulfil his oath Jon had to slay his brother and become someone he was not. A turncloak
"Our honor means no more than our lives, so long as the realm is safe. Are you a man of the Night's Watch?" ACOK Jon V
The price of his honor is the "coin" that Jon spent.................... I pledge my life and HONOR to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come."
When Qhorin ordered Jon to yield and turn his cloak
You must not balk, whatever is asked of you. Do as they bid you . . .
he knew what would happen
He knew, he thought numbly. He knew what they would ask of me.
Qhorin traded his coin(life) for Jon's coin(honor)
One coin for another.
It was gold, with a dragon on one face and a king on the other.
“The golden dragon of Westeros,” said the kindly man. “And how did you come by this?
We are no thieves.”
“It wasn’t stealing. I took one of his, but I left him one of ours.”
Davos's Thumb
Aerys, Tywin and a Bride for Rhaegar
The Trident Has Three Heads.
Who's Looking Through The Black Gate?
Male And Female In The Vale Of Arryn
Swords of Ice and Fire
Valonqar - High Valyrian or Bastard Valyrian?
Brandon's Bastards
