She smiled a pitying smile when Theon Greyjoy asked her if she'd ever loved a Stark and forgot to correct him on his arithmetic.
After all, what was the difference? Both had had the same biting wit, the same fire encased in beautiful shadowy visages (Both had left her). Later, in her guest chambers, she poured herself a glass of dark wine (like that hair) and let herself break (for Lyanna).
They'd never been close as girls, not even when Barbrey had been a choice for Lady Stark. No; they'd been too different. Lyanna with her wild hair and horses (one looked like the Ryswell sigil) and eyes of milky stone. Barbrey with her books and neat braid and utter annoyance at girls who weren't like her (girls who used fire to rebel instead of cold courtesy). But Barbrey had eyes, and used them to watch the Stark, waiting until the girl (barely fifteen) stumbled out one night at yet another feast, leaving Barbrey bored and unfulfilled.
She'd waited a quarter hour before making her excuses at the women's table, claiming her pains were strong this month (how Lady Stark had smiled at that!), and sweeping out of the hall into the mildly chill night.
A shirked velvet overdress, contented splashing, and a lantern on the ground before the hot springs let Barbrey know her instinct had been correct, as did the stifled maidenly gasp from one of the pools.
"W-who goes there?"
Barbrey smirked. "Only I, my lady."
The splashing started again. "And who is 'I'?"
"Come and find out, if you dare, my winter rose."
Lyanna dared.
They say it was Ned Stark's refusal to bring back her husband's bones from Dorne that turned her against her liege lord. She lets out a chuckle to the empty room. (No, it was Ned Stark's refusal to give her Lyanna's bones before she even knew she wanted them, wanted to entwine herself in that beautiful, bleeding body).
They say it was her grief for her husband that made her hate the South. She examines the empty glass and throws it against the mirror. (No, it was Rhaegar and Robert and his thrice-damned Rebellion that had made her hate it, made her want to freeze it as though she truly were the Queen of the Others her people called her behind her back).
There is power in ice, she thought, (wasn't there?). Lyanna, poor fiery girl, wasn't powerful, (my darling wolf, my love, my winter rose), but Barbrey could be. Barbrey was more than a husband, more than a silver prince (but not more than bones), and so she lived, year after year, unknowingly waiting for stupid Theon Greyjoy to ask his stupid question.
Brandon wasn't the only Stark Barbrey Ryswell (Dustin) had loved.
He was simply the first.
