Asha.

                                         ^{asha was not a woman well suited to  CAPTIVITY.     she had it better than some   –   being permitted to walk as she pleased through stannis’s camp  (  though  always  with an escort,  of course  )   &  given a place out of the  BITING  winter air to lie her head at night was a  kindness  of a sort  –  but though she bore no manacles  &  was not confined to a  cage,   asha was a prisoner nonetheless.    the lack of bondage didn’t mean  FREEDOM,   it only meant that the north would keep her without bars.      &  it was true  –  with no blades  &  no shelter,   asha could no more leave the camp than she could  FLY  back to harlaw.    not with her  life,   that is.    although admittedly,  her chances of  SURVIVAL  within the king’s camp were not much better than they were in the wolfswood.    some wanted her head taken,  some wanted her  burned,   but  NONE  here looked on her with love.      wolves  &  stags  &  foxes  &  bears  –   in the greenlands,  the kraken found few friends.}

                                                                                      ^{tiring quickly of the  HATEFUL  faces  &  the ever unchanging colorless sky,   asha ducked back into her tent in hopes of a  fire  to warm her  &  a bite of bread to try  &  chase away the  ACHE  in her gut that had become almost permanent,   but she was not alone as she entered.       there was a woman seated around a fire already stoked  &  crackling in a way that was almost  sickeningly  inviting,  hair long  &  dark  &  falling wild over her shoulders.     asha moved cautiously as she stepped closer  –  here it was  DIFFICULT  to tell friend from foe,   &  the  foes  greatly outnumbered the friends.       but when the woman turned,  the ironborn recognized her at a glance  –  she ought to;  this woman’s arrival in the camp had caused even more  STIR  amongst the northmen than her own.     but what could she want with asha  ???} 

                                         ^{based on her family’s  reputation  among the starks,   she thinks it  unlikely  that this is a  FRIENDLY  visit.     for what seems like the thousandth time,   she  prays  for an axe,   but if any gods can hear,  they cannot be bothered to answer her.      so instead she shrugs out of her fur cloak   (  far too heavy for the cradle of warmth of the tent  )   &  takes a careful step closer;   one must always be on guard when conversing with  WOLVES.}

                                                       ^{‘   to what do i owe this  PLEASURE,   lady stark  ???  ‘}

  ^{@nivallis ||  PLOTTED.}

          Asha Greyjoy was not what Lyanna had expected, although, to be fair, Lyanna doubted very much that the other woman had been expecting her, either. On the one hand, most people had thought up until several months ago that she had been dead for nearly twenty years, and then there was the fact that they were sitting in a camp for an army that might have been her family’s enemy, had she not pointed events in quite another direction. But Asha was far lovelier than the men in the camp would have lead her to believe. Most of those men wanted her dead, so it made sense that this was not the portrayal she had heard, but it didn’t effect her decision to stay. 

          The fire was warm and made a pleasant sound as she sat before it, and for a moment, it was easy to forget that they had been brought to this moment by impending war. Grey eyes lifted to focus on the other woman, waiting for her to take a seat, make herself comfortable. She gave a nod to the place across the fire from her, presumably where Asha would sit to warm herself, an invitation to join the wolf. Lyanna anticipated that this might be a lengthy conversation; it wasn’t often that she had to convince enemies to be friends. But she would do it. For Jon, for Winterfell, for the North. It would be done. 

          It was unlikely that Lyanna needed to introduce herself. There were very few women around the encampment carrying swords, even fewer with a wolf’s head broach holding their cloak together. Even so, she liked to be clear, liked even more that she could safely speak her own name for the first time in two decades. “I am the Lady Lyanna Stark of Winterfell, and I am here to offer you your freedom, if you would have it. Your freedom, as well as the high throne of the Iron Islands.” She always had driven a hard bargain– it was why Doran had valued her. That, and her counsel and diplomacy. 

          She waited, gaze locked on the sailor, watching her reaction. Asha was negotiating from a difficult position, and it was very possible her response would be negative. Perhaps disbelief, or maybe she would even refuse to speak to her. But from what she knew, Asha was a keen mind, practical, realistic. Something made Lyanna think that the other woman would hear what she came to say, if not break bread with her.