You think my life is such a precious thing to me, that I would trade my honor for a few more years, of what?

The line contrasts mere survival with the moral core that gives a life its value. The speaker rejects the assumption that self-preservation is the highest good, insisting that living longer is meaningless if it requires surrendering honor—i.e., the principles and reputation that define one’s identity. The clipped ending (“…a few more years, of what?”) sharpens the point: years gained through dishonor would be years emptied of purpose, dignity, and self-respect. In Martin’s fiction, such a sentiment typically functions as a critique of cynical realpolitik, elevating personal integrity as a form of resistance even when it carries lethal risk.