The memory still haunts her. Even with the seasons that have passed since then. All the faces she'd collected since then. The vengeance she'd taken since then.
She still sees it so clearly.
Her brother's body is bound to his horse as his murders parade it around the burning camp. Grey Wind's butchered head in place of Robb's own as the mount was made to turn into the firelight pathway Array Stark was watching.
Gendry moves with her when Arya sits up in their shared bed. Blade in hand and a fresh coat of sweat that had nothing to do with their pre sleep activities clinging to her skin. "My Lady?" His husky voice whispers yet he makes no move to touch her. He's got better sense than to attempt to offer comfort the woman sharing his bed doesn't want.
Blade returned to its place under her pillow Arya turns into Gendry's braced side with the softest of sobs slipping past her trembling lips.
Her blacksmith holds her for a short while. Saying nothing while the little girl who'd witnessed that horrible event sobbed against his chest in the first rays of a new day.
The same day that ended with that bloody night years past.
The sun only serving as a reminder of those dancing flames surrounding the cheering throng of murders spilling out of the great hall where her family had been slaughtered by the Lord of the Twins.
With a slow exhaled breath Gendry quietly slips from their bed dressing quickly but modestly with only a pair of riding britches and a soot dusted over shirt baring Arya's gave of the strong muscles of her smith's back before he turns his head back toward the bed a struggle in his eyes as he contemplates something.
Rya hadn't moved from her namesake's side of the bed even when Gendry seems to make up his mind with a quick detour into the privy before washing his hands in the water basin then continuing his short cross to the door of the couple's bed chamber. The chocolate furred wolf resting her muzzle reassuringly against Arya's knee when the trembling face changer moved to sit up at the edge of the bed.
The rest of Storms End was still silent around them as Gendry watches the glazed look in Arya's eyes depend as her fingers scratch at that soft patch behind their wolf's ear.
"Come with me," he says finally breaking the quiet of the early morning. "Please, my Lady." He coaxes when unfocused eyes meet his own.
It surprised both human when before Arya could move to comply with the whispered ask Rya was on the move collecting both a fresh shirt as well as a par of birches carrying both back to the amused face changer whilst Gendry also was moving around the room mostly to dig out Arya's collection of faces from it's hiding place.
Arya doesn't ask who's mask her blacksmith pulls out before returning the rest to the bag and in turn returning the bag back to its original spot behind a loose rock in the bedroom wall.
Again, Rya makes no move to follow her master to the door choosing instead to remain loyal beside the still dressing girl who shares his bed.
"Rya will lead you." Her smith says at Arya's nervous glance when Gendry pulls the door open signaling his upcoming exit from their chamber. "I'm going to make sure everything is ready before then." He promises making a quick trip back to the bed to press a light brush of a kiss against Arya's hairline.
She nodes weakly as another wave of warm sunlight only drags her back into the shadowed memory of her past.
"A Girl should be stranger than this." Gendry hears her muttering her right hand returning to tubbing soothingly against Rya's head earning a pleased hum from the wolf.
"A girl is." The smith turned Lord assures resting his forehead against his Queen's "but my Lady needs time to grieve for those she lost, if only for the morning." He adds giving Arya another soft kiss before departing the chamber altogether.
The scent of the river fills her nose as the pair wander the pathway side by side. Arya's fingers braided in Rya's scruff as she allows the she-wolf to lead her.
She wondered if this was the same scent Robb smelled before Lord Bolton thrust the dagger into his heart.
She'd seen him time and time again. Every time she puts on the face of the Lord of the Twins.
The hiss of the forge helps steady her thoughts and keep the tears a bay a little while longer as the faceless one allows for Arya Stark's lingering emotions to cloud her mind on the anniversary of her older brother, mother, and sister in law's murder date.
"Think it's hot enough, my Lady?" her smith asks without taking his eyes from the dancing flames of the forge.
Arya was quiet for a few more seconds letting the comforting surroundings of the forge chase away the phantom pains this day never fails to drag up no matter how deeply Arya tries to bury them.
"For what?" Arya answers as she and the wolf at her side pause beside the well-muscled man.
By way of answering Gendry holds out the thing he's taken from Arya's collection of faces.
The Lord of the Twins himself. Or at least his face.
"It's time to end this, my wild wolf. Once and for all." The Lord of Storms End decides offering the thing to her.
Arya drops her eyes to the wolf pressed against her side with a whisper of a reassuring whimper falling from her throat as the animal holds her gaze.
Instead of taking the still offered mask, the girl drops to her knee to wrap her arms around the animal at her side just as she had with her own wolf all those years ago before she'd been forced to throw those stones to save her wolf from the rath of the Lannister lions.
Rya's head dops over her back in as much of a retuned hug as the animal was able to give as the smith tosses the thing in his hand into the fire of the forge before he too joined the embrace as the thing burned.
